Chapter 25 – Epilogue

Time was an agonising thing. Spending it in merriment made it speed by, getting stuck in hospital made it crawl like a snail on hot sand. Returning from the nerve-wrecking Gate of Truth, only to have one's scarcely returned eyesight blindfolded into complete blackness was a new high of torment altogether.

"I'm going out to the shops." Riza scurried into the kitchen, opened a single cabinet, and was in the hall, slipping into her coat before Roy had so much as opened his mouth.

"Now?" He tried and failed to ban the indignance from his tone.

"We're out of bread. I'll be right back."

"We can eat something other than bread for tomorrow morning." He got up from the kitchen chair, but it was too late. The front door fell shut. Roy's shoulders fell alongside it. If that hadn't been harsh. Not the way she had said it, but the fact that she had said it. And left. Just like that.

He slumped back into the chair. Hayate's nose appeared at his ankle, but Roy had no capacity to feel consoled.

His fingers drummed on his thigh. He could hear the seconds hand of the clock tick steadily. Tauntingly. Agonisingly slowly, so it seemed.

Why couldn't she have postponed shopping? And for stupid bread! Was she tired of making him omelettes and bacon? He could make them himself now; she didn't even have to worry about the workload, because in only a few minutes, he would have regained his eyesight.

He might have already regained it for all he knew, but the blindfold was tight.

Dr Marcoh had instructed it – to make sure he wouldn't damage his eyes with the harsh contrast of light. It made sense, if only slightly and if Roy lied a little to himself. Fullmetal's arm had returned malnourished and visibly weakened but it had been fully functional. No severed nerves, no impairment, nothing but the scars his Automail had left behind. A trim of his fingernails and everything had been right as rain.

So then why had Riza left Roy behind when he was ready to take the darn blindfold off? Did she not grasp how immensely important it was to him that she would be there? That he would get to see her again – perhaps even have her be the first thing he saw? It was the romantic side of his brain telling him to wait for her. She loved that side; why hadn't she put two and two together and not gone out for dumb bread?

Cursing, Roy gripped the leg of his trousers in frustration. He felt betrayed. A small part of him was ready to dump the blindfold and just casually go back to whatever he wanted to do – not blindly. An even smaller part entertained the thought of greeting Riza back with a homemade treat, but he couldn't bring himself to conjure up happy thoughts of their reunion with how she had unreasonably dashed out. Maybe if he made that bloody omelette, rendering bread useless.

He got up again. Barefooted, he paced up and down the hallway. Hayate followed on the way to the bedroom and back, but stayed behind when Roy kept going back and forth meaninglessly.

Finally, his car's engine. She didn't even bother to park down the street, halting right in front of the door. Roy would have lied had he said how he hadn't noticed time passing by – he had counted every last excruciating minute of it.

"I'm back," Riza panted slightly, rusting with a paper bag.

"I know," Roy stilled his growl too late. If she noticed, she didn't show. He stumbled slightly out of the way when she hustled the bag into the bathroom. The door slammed shut in front of his face. Roy blinked against the fabric of the blindfold.

What…?

"Captain." This time he didn't even attempt to stifle his irritation. Why was she making it so hard to look forward to celebrating his regained sight with her? She was what he longed to see the most, but right now, she not only shut him out, but alarmingly dampened his joy.

"Just a minute," she said from behind the door. As if he could see her anyway.

He marched back down the hall. Hayate had used the open front door to sniff a lamppost, marking it. Roy waited until claws obediently scratched up the few steps again, then closed the door. His jaw was tight with vexation. About ready to strut back down the hall, throw open the door if he had to, Roy wasn't given a chance to do either. Not even contemplate how she had dragged what was supposedly toast into the bathroom. He was frozen.

There was light.

Roy stared at his feet. His feet. At least the general shadows of them anyway. There was light! Light dancing vaguely beneath the lower rim of the blindfold. He couldn't move his head – not that it would help – only drill his eyes as far downwards as he could to peer over his cheeks and onto the floor. The floor. A colour – a simple and unspectacular dark brown but a colour nonetheless.

"Captain," Roy's voice trembled. If he hadn't moved his mouth, he wouldn't have been sure he had spoken at all. "Captain," he repeated, louder. By the third time, he was close to shouting. "I can see my feet." His heart was fluttering madly in his chest. They weren't even blurry.

"Wait!" Riza called back.

He heard but he ignored it. She had kept him waiting long enough – and he could see, damnit. How could he not take it off now?

Jittery, Roy felt for the knot at the back of his head. How foolish had he been to concoct romanticised dreams when his bare feet had suddenly become the most sensational thing he could imagine. Something in the bathroom fell over but he was too busy picking at the knot.

Unable to stand it, Roy tore the entire blindfold off and over his head. He had to squeeze his eyes shut when the fabric rubbed over them. Out of habit, they reopened to slots. He forced himself to slow down, holding his breath. Blood was rushing in his ears, every artery seemingly pulsing, twitching, rocking him almost dizzyingly.

His feet came into focus. Pale against the floorboards. Never had he appreciated all the wooden veins and knotholes before. He wiggled is toes. A shiver ran down his spine.

He could see. Not blurrily, not dimly. As if nothing had ever happened.

"Captain," Roy breathed, wiggling again, "Captain, hurry, I can see my— I can see…" His gaze flashed up when the bathroom door finally opened, any anger replaced by excitement. And then something entirely else. "You…" Roy's mouth stayed open. His heart leapt into his throat, making him cough, then stagger.

She took a step to help him but he caught himself. Both remained as if paralyzed for another moment.

His eyes – unclouded and sharp, but dazzled – made her own shine up shyly. He stared back shamelessly.

White shoes. A white dress. Not necessarily a bridal one, but it didn't matter – all he saw was Riza, his bride, wearing a white dress. Long sleeves, a high, ironed collar, buttons going down the front. The skirt widening fetchingly at the height of her hips. She had even pinned a delicately laced veil into her hair.

And she looked entranced by him. It was a world gone mad.

"You took it off…" she breathed. He couldn't even swallow, his throat dried out.

The white heels clacked softly as she approached. Blushing lightly under his never-ending gaping, she took his hands. "I wanted to wait until you could see…" she explained quietly. "Does anything hurt?" She let go with one hand to trace the corner of his eye. "Is anything hazy?"

Roy only managed to shake his head. Her hands enclosing both of his felt like an ice cube on the hot mess his body had become. It wasn't so much a blush as it was an overwhelming heat due to all the sensations he was bombarded with that made Riza put the backs of her fingers to his forehead.

As if on its own accord, Roy's hand returned to life. He cupped her face.

"You're beautiful," he murmured. The shade of pink on her cheeks darkened.

"I would have put on makeup but then you took it off…" she mumbled, averting her gaze. Again, he shook his head.

"You're divine," he said. Then he frowned. "Actually," he wrapped his hands around hers, giving a short squeeze, "would you mind doing it anyway? I'll change too." He let go to hasten into the bedroom. Riza blinked twice, stunned.

His brain was catching fire, a fierce battle of senses raging on. Everything was as if nothing had happened. He knew his surroundings. He knew where they put what, even when having been blind, and he knew the distances between his furniture better than ever but still – being able to actually see, his hearing and touch still sensitive; it made the tremble return.

Riza had only just disappeared in the bathroom when the doorbell rang. Hayate barked.

Throwing a vest over his dress shirt and caution to the wind, Roy marched down the hall to open the front door.

"Hey, chief, I was just— what's going— woah!" Havoc tripped when Roy all but pulled him in instead of sending him away.

"Excellent timing – you'll be our witness. Ever been to a wedding?" Roy shooed Havoc into the living room.

"Yeah," Havoc cautiously admitted.

"Remember the registrar's words?"

"I guess…?"

"Shove the couch aside," Roy instructed, then disappeared in the bedroom again. Dumbfounded, Havoc only stood there for another moment. He did as he was told, then followed, a huge question mark as if stamped to his forehead. But Roy stormed past him again, scribbling something onto a sheet of paper, a bowtie hanging from his collar.

"What even— hey, your eyes!" Havoc exclaimed. "I knew it was today!" He dug out and presented the envelope he had brought – the photos.

He was quite proud that Madame Christmas had trusted him to deliver them. He already knew which one would be Roy's favourite: the one where they had entered the party – Riza on his arm, wearing a fetching dress. Next was the one where Armstrong had swept them both off their feet in a hug, then the one where Roy had grabbed Havoc's collar threateningly, all the while smiling charmingly into the camera. The men had of course added a few as well as the night had progressed, each of them having worn Roy's general's uniform, pretending that his drunken self had been the only one of lower rank.

Right now, Roy was neither looking at the photos, neither listening when Havoc noisily slapped them onto the table.

"Sorry for the mess," Riza apologised, exiting the bathroom. Havoc went to voice his exasperation about Roy brushing it all off, but any words got stuck when he saw her. His eyes popped a little. She blushed when he whistled lowly.

"Sweet carbine," he half blurted, half exhaled. "You look amazing," he laughed a little. "No wonder the chief's so fidgety."

"We wanted to celebrate," Riza shyly said. "It's silly, I know."

"No, it's really sweet actually." Havoc grinned. She had taken off the veil to redo her hair, but he would have been imbecile not to see what was going on.

"Havoc, the couch," Roy yelled from the kitchen.

"Yeah, you just get that ready, we'll be out in a bit," Havoc returned. Riza frowned. His grin widened. He nudged her back into the bathroom, closing the door. "I wasn't emergency stand-in bridesmaid for nothing at my cousin's wedding – let me show you a thing or two." He winked at her through the mirror, picking up the comb. She let him, staring at the ground.

By the time her hair had dried enough not to drip and she had retouched her makeup, the veil was back in place. It had much more effect now, she found. The gentle curls cascading down her shoulder highlighted the half-updo the veil was pinned into. It was more than surprising what Havoc could do with a wet towel and a few elastics.

"No peeking," Havoc called down the hallway. "Ready?" He turned back to Riza where she stamped the excess lipstick onto the back of her hand.

Fleetly washing it off, she joined him in the doorway. "Ready." She took a deep inhale. It had sounded as much ready as it had seemed the exact opposite. He had never seen her this nervous.

"Sorry to be burdening you with this too," she muttered as he led her down the hall. He offered a kind smile.

"Don't worry, I've kept this secret before I knew it was true," he chuckled. "An' I'm not burdened – I'm honoured."

He slowed down before rounding the doorway to the living room. Riza briefly closed her eyes, calming her breath. Havoc considered giving her something to hold in the place of a bouquet – a potted plant, a pair of leeks. But then her eyes met Roy's and her hands fit so perfectly in his as if having been welded together all their lives.

Havoc edged himself between them and the pushed-aside couch. He cleared his throat. When they didn't tear their gazes off one another, he commenced anyway.

"Dearly beloved," he started. Then stopped. Roy dug out the note he had been scrawling from his suit's pocket. Eyes never leaving Riza's. "We are gathered here today to join this idiot and this incredible woman in unholy matrimony," Havoc improvised off the barely readable bullet points. Roy threw Riza a winsome smirk when she tutted at his well-earned title. "Their decision to marry has not been entered into lightly, oh no," Havoc said dramatically, "though it cannot be said that it was unadvertised," he indicated himself.

Roy rolled his eyes. Riza smiled, then even more when – after he had marvelled at her attire once more – Roy's gaze found hers again. He saw so much more than what his eyesight had returned to him.

"Captain Riza Hawkeye, will you take, uh..." Havoc trailed off, noticing too late that he had to skip the next passage. He frowned when Roy let go of Riza's hands, reaching behind his neck.

"Right," she said, more to herself, and copied him.

Now with eyes the size of saucers, his brows having risen so high they would surely merge with his hairline, Havoc watched in awe as the two actually produced rings, having worn them as necklaces. For how long had they been planning this? He raked his brain for any and all instances he had seen them out of uniform, with a button open, anything – anything that might have shown him the hint of a chain on either one's neck.

Riza smiled awkwardly when Roy offered her his ring. She had already slipped on her own, noticing too late that it wasn't in accordance with tradition. It became a slight struggle to take it back off. She avoided Havoc's eyes when Roy had to use his teeth. Stamping the pad of her finger with his lips or good measure, Roy then slid the ring right back on. Her giggle returned – light, bubbly, head over heels in love.

"Don't laugh," she grumbled when he chuckled too.

She repeated the process for him, adorning his fourth finger with a simple silver ring. His eyes were so tender, so affectionate merely watching her.

"By the lack of power vested in me, I now pronounce you unofficial husband and wife." Havoc folded the note as if shutting a holy script. "You may— you must kiss, I insist." He grinned.

Riza shifted in her shoes when Roy leant down. "This is odd," she mumbled, gaze flashing to Havoc and down. Her blush darkened, thumb playing with the ring.

Roy gently took her chin. Any replacement actions were as if wiped off, her eyes wide when he was suddenly so close. She lost herself in him – the profoundness of his gaze; his seeing gaze. Their breaths mingled, one steady the other stuttering. His fingers traced along her jaw, cupping it. Her shoulders fell. Lips parted, reached, finally touched in a raptly burst of unfamiliar familiarity.

Roy released her hand to enclose her waist. Her palms landed on his chest out of habit; as if rehearsed, when all they came to do was find their way home to his heart. Havoc exhaled a breath he hadn't realised to have been holding, but it didn't matter anymore. He had vanished alongside the rest of the living room, perhaps the entire world for just a moment where Riza's lips melted into Roy's.

Their foreheads touched, smiles impregnable.

Havoc accidentally broke the spell by sniffling, excusing himself. Riza chuckled when hearing him blow his nose, the colour rising back up into her cheeks. Roy never ceased smiling fondly, undisturbed, keenly burning the image of her in his arms, in her current state, into his mind's eye.

"So that's why you went shopping so suddenly." His purposefully low timbre resonated against her chest. The hand on her nape wandered, reaching out to feel the veil between his fingers.

Riza smiled coyly. "I can't exactly wear anything but white shoes with a white dress…"

"This is so cute," Havoc sniffled, flopping down on the couch. "Honestly, I'm so glad I got to see this. I never even imagined you'd wear something like that." He nodded at Riza. Roy smiled, this time because he had seen the gesture from the corner of his eye. Subtle and nothing out of the ordinary, but impossible to perceive if not with seeing eyes. He rested them on Riza again, studying the dress.

"It's ancient, actually," she admitted. "The last time I wore this, I was—"

"Sixteen," Roy finished for her. Her eyes lit up, astonished.

"You remember it?"

"You were hanging laundry; you put the pegs here." Roy trailed down her sleeve. "And when the wind picked up, you fixed the skirt together with them." His hand on her waist stroked up and down. "But your shawl went flying."

"And got stuck in the—"
"Quince tree," they said in unison.

Riza giggled softly, leaning further into his embrace. "You tried to reach it from the window upstairs."

"And failed miserably."

"I was so afraid you'd fall." Her fingers furled around his shirt. "You'd only just come back…" she said, quieter. He tugged her closer. Apologetically, he placed a kiss between her brows.

"I'm never leaving again," he firmly said. "Not if it doesn't involve you."

"Is that a promise?" Riza asked, blushing at how hopeful she had sounded. As if her sixteen-year-old self had spoken instead of her. Her fingers tugged lightly at the lapel of his suit.

Roy tightened his embrace in response. He dropped his forehead to hers once more. Her lashes tickled his cheeks as they fluttered shut, and a peaceful bliss curved his lips into a smile while he murmured, "It's a promise."

Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed my Hospital!Royai.