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: 095. Now
Disclaimer: I do not own Full Metal Alchemist.
Angles
095. Now
Roy is not Führer.
But this, he thinks he can live with. Tonight is the night after the end of the revolution, and they must celebrate. And though he cannot see her, he knows that Riza spins through his barely furnished apartment shining brighter than a thousand diamonds, his beautiful Queen dancing only for him. The only thing in the living room is a sofa and some leftover food that had been dropped off the day before, and her, filling the air with permanence and expensive perfume he did not care for but found himself not so much minding on her.
"Come here."
It is no longer a command, but a request; though she had never listened to his commands anyway. For a woman strung up on rules and order, she sure knew how to ignore him as her superior. Temporarily, she complies, and sits placidly cross legged like a child between his thighs on the sofa. After sixty six plasters he can still feel the marks across her skin, and when she twitches slightly he knows he has felt a bruise. At least now her hair is not dripping blood from her neck, although he thinks it will scar. A permanent reminder of how his ineptitude could have killed her. She had said she did not mind, because she always wore roll necks. But that was an obvious excuse, something failingly said to dissipate his guilt.
"You would be a terrible medic, sir."
She comments. He sighs; she is in her twenties going on sixties. She even had the acidic black humour of the elderly. Still, he finds the salve in his pocket and rubs it on to her sore arms, and eventually she rolls up her shirt so he can rub it into her back. She had swatted his hands away from her legs and hips, so he knew his had to be only the half of it. In a sudden pang, he thinks briefly how he has marked her just like her father and a strong wave of revulsion at his actions courses through him. He had not been the one to cut her neck, but he had not stopped it from happening.
"That is ok. I am happy as I am. Plus, I still have a beautiful woman with me."
He acts cheerful enough, but he knows she is saddened. A tremor runs through her body, and he knows she is feeling the same guilt as he is. She had not done her job of protecting him; his loss of sight was a testament to that fact. And though she will be scarred, that changes nothing; his loss of sight is a whole new challenge to overcome for him; and his anger at is may threaten his goals. She turns and presses her forehead against his, a cold moment of clarity for him. Her skin is still warm beneath his touch.
"Can we just be normal, Mustang. Please."
Always so formal with him, even now. It is a plea he chooses to ignore. There is no more normal, not anymore. Instead, he leans slightly more forward and presses his lips to hers as gently as he can. He has never called her beautiful, but she is. And this breaks every rule in the book, he knows, and she would hate not to be the model soldier; but tonight, in the moment, she does not refuse him. Too much has happened.
For now, she is his.
I cannot imagine things just carrying on as before after the end of the manga. It seems like such a long time ago now, but it has barely been a year. Still, here is to hoping.
Reviews & criticism appreciated.