Summary: At the right angle, in a line of sight, one might wonder why he never stopped staring at her for so much as a second.

Theme: 091. Kiss

Disclaimer: I do not own Full Metal Alchemist.

Angles

091. Kiss

At first, he lingers early just to see her arrive.

He has not seen her since they parted from the war. And still she arrives every day at the same time, fifteen minutes early to the dot. Like clockwork. His own fault is that for all this time, he stumbles over his tongue; not saying a word, afraid to acknowledge her existence. Yet all day she sits in his office, silent, going through the mountain of paperwork and picking out the really important bits for him to sign.

"You will have to talk to me eventually. All the women do, Hawkeye."

She nods, but makes no comment. In fact, barely anything passes her lips. During lunch, she sits alone in the office and continues working; indifferent to everyone, even him. In her breaks, she shoots; and the officers down there remark to him that she has the sharpest shots they have ever seen. He smiles vaguely at this, knowing that she has not changed. Perhaps this is her way of coping with him leaving her behind. But he had brought her back to him, just as he promised. It had taken years, but she was his right hand woman again; and yet, she would not so much as accept his existence. Except perhaps for Maes and Havoc, she speaks to nobody at all. She will not make him any different.

"You look sad. You should smile more."

He remarks on the second week, a Tuesday. She has still been ignoring him, polite enough and answering requests and important questions; but she shows him no companionship. He has become just another face in a sea of faces, and unlike the other women around him, she has shown not the slightest bit of interest in him. They have been friends a long time ago, but now he wants her to see him as more. As someone worthy of her affection, worthy of anything; because everyone else acknowledges him. Why would she not do the same? It was irking him to no end.

"Of course, sir."

But nobody smiles when they are not happy. People seek attention and say their smile is false, that they are putting it on for everyone else to make the world carry on; but those people do not know what sadness is. All the world is a stage, but Riza will not be an actress, not for him at least. He stands, and makes his way over to her desk. He stands in front of her, and yet she still does not look at him until he slams his hand on the papers in front of her, sending them billowing to the floor. She frowns.

"Do you find me distasteful, Hawkeye?"

She looks at the man in front of her, a shadow of his former self. She stoops down to pick up the colour coded papers, rearranges them, and purses her lips. She had said she would always be there, watching his back, but he had not bothered with her for years. She was almost an afterthought to all the women here, the one he left behind. The only one he never wanted. It hurt her pride, but at the same time she was closer than any of them would ever get. Simply putting it, Mustang had irritated her by his ignorance.

"Unfortunately sir, yes, I do."

So prim, so proper. Of course. He laughs a little, and leans forward to put a soft kiss on her forehead. Small Elizabeth who used to steal his shoes is the same as always. She dislikes the way he acts, and so for her, he inwardly vows to tune it down. She is worth more than a thousand of the women who have shared his bed in the past few years. He knows this will break the silence, it always has with her.

She could never know he had been right there waiting.

I imagine Riza would not enjoy being left behind. Small imaginings.

Reviews & criticism appreciated.