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: 099. Welcome Home

Disclaimer: I do not own Full Metal Alchemist.

Angles

099. Welcome Home

When Riza was young, she had wanted to fall in love.

She thinks in her youth that there will be rose petals, there will be stars lined up all for her; but then comes the alchemy, the tattoo, the bitter taste of disappointment. She had not wanted to let Roy go at the time, because she did not know what to do without him. Then a glimmer of hope, a military card and a gun. All she had was an old leather and pleat backpack and her determination. Now she knows that love is when she answers a call from a thousand miles away just to hear a voice. She had sworn not to love an alchemist, but she found herself stumbling all over herself for one.

"What is wrong with me?"

She mumbles to Roy. He looks at her, her hair the colour he had always hoped for. Dull marigold sweeping from jaw to waist, just the right length to make her feminine. Still, with dirt and mud and grime on her she is pretty; and just for him. Even being on the run - breaking the rules she had sworn to uphold – does not seem to change her. Her cheeks are a dull red, and he finds himself thinking that then even though there is so much pain in the world there are corners of things that cannot be anything but right.

"You are beautiful. Beautiful women always love the wrong people, Hawkeye."

He tells her softly. They have to want to get better, to get over people; and even now he wants her so much and he knows she wants him too. So she cannot. Treatment would be tearing her away to stop the coin shaped bruises on her skin, stop the cut cheeks and legs and hands, stop the anxiety and constant stench of gunpowder. They want to have to stop. But even now, she is shaking and fearful. Even now she cannot accept this breach.

"I do not love you, Mustang."

She needs her father, or more accurately herself, to be the biggest source of pain in her life. He should have been out on the street, begging for anyone but her. But for now, this small cabin out in the snow on the way to Olivier is where he is. And he is her home, where she is always welcome. She despises it. He is waiting for her to remember the summers when she was naïve, when she read poetry and did not stray beyond the gardens of her home, when he was all that existed. Like now. Denial is not a pretty thing. He smiles at her placidly.

"No, no, of course not. Not yet, anyway. But I want you."

But she does, oh dear she does; and her desperate kiss means everything.

I can imagine that admitting love for Riza would be hard; and Roy would just stand there waiting, teasing her until she did.

Reviews & criticism appreciated.