I know, I know. I said it would be a oneshot, but now it obviously is going to be much longer. I'm supposed to have stopped writing fanfiction by now. But yes. I'm going to continue writing ANYWAY, even though I have to study (sob) and IB exams are next year (sobsob). So this will be a reasonably long fic, BUT MY LAST. Sort of. ARGH. I'm doomed.
Kitsune Blue, Anonymous, : Thanks for reviewing! You're both great :D
BlackShadowKat, Antigone Rex, wifi: Thanks for liking the description! I was worried I wouldn't be able to write good description and fight scenes like I do for my D. Gray-Man fics, but if you like that sort of stuff, and you want to know what I think Roy's fire is like, you should probably read the first chapter of my fic A Charade of Flames.
lotusmelody17: Thank you as ever! Your review made me laugh. A lot. And it's one of the major reasons I'm continuing it :D So thank you, and enjoy. Fluff scenes, dear. Lots of them. Muahahahaha!
And to those who alerted and favourited, thank you very much for the encouragement.
I don't own Fullmetal Alchemist or any of its characters. I've assumed one or two promotions to higher ranks for all the military characters in this.
Roy's office is silent, save for the rustle of parchment and the smooth scratching of a pen. Being a general has allowed Roy many luxuries, including a sumptuously decorated office with sofas and tables in a separate area from his desk. At first sight of this temporary office in Central, Roy had blanched at the frills and velvet and golden chandeliers, and ordered one quaking corporal to "go do something about it". Roy had returned the next day to find his office in impeccable order, decorated in dark colours with almost perfectly restrained, elegant taste. This had surprised him, as when he had given the orders, the corporal had been shaking in his boots, looking completely lost.
Roy suspects his top aide had something to do with it. Riza had wordlessly shown out the corporal with what had appeared to be a bland expression, but what Roy had immediately seen to be her scheming grin.
And everywhere in this chamber he can see signs of her touch…
The grave cluster of flowers in an alcove, dark-vased, cerulean against a background of sable…Roy remembers how once he had chanced upon Riza shopping, and before moving on, noticed how she always chose the simplest, darkest materials and somehow combined them to be within acceptable military standards, and yet far more elegant than what he had seen other women wearing in the military… The carpet is navy blue and mutedly quiet, so he can hear the soft ticking of the simple, yet exquisitely carved wooden clock in a corner now striking four in the afternoon…
It is Riza's birthday today. He should ask everyone to dinner to celebrate. Must remember to do so before she leaves work, he thinks blearily. The events in the park a few days ago weigh heavily on his mind. He wonders what he should do next…
Roy shakes his head. He should be working on his Alchemy notes, not thinking about his office, or the one who made it perfect...He gazes up at the ceiling from the sofa, his long legs stretched out before him, and then lowers his head again to the Alchemy notes in his gloved hands. The sofa is far too comfortable, really. Just the right length for his head to rest on the cushioned armrest, his booted feet crossed on the other end. His hand wavers on his Alchemy notes, over the varied names of women that code his research, and he becomes aware that he has no idea what name his hand is writing. No matter…just a little rest…
When Havoc finds Roy several hours later, he takes a moment to remove the cigarette in his mouth and grin at the General, stretched out on the sofa, one had still gripping a pen while the other holds a sheaf of coded papers. The grin turns into spasms of laughter when Roy gives a very ungentlemanly snore.
Roy straightens up like a zombie when Havoc's maniacal laughter reaches his ears, wincing at the bright light. "Major Havoc," he growls between clenched teeth, "May I ask what is so amusing?" His pen slips out of his hand onto the crumpled Alchemy notes on the floor. The top sheet is rather unintelligible, as Roy had been dozing when he wrote it.
"Nothing," Havoc snorts between chuckles. "I don't usually equate the word 'amusing' with you, sir." He crosses over to help Roy pick up his Alchemy sheets, moving fluidly, all traces of his old wounds gone. Roy lets him do so, as no one can interpret the named code except for himself. Roy runs a hand through his crumpled hair and tries to regain a modicum of dignity, and glances down to find Havoc staring at the sheet he has just lifted off the floor.
"What is it?" Roy snaps, rubbing his face.
Havoc's voice is wry. "This is a new change to your code, sir. Allow me to read out a few of the names you have used." Already, Havoc's shoulders are shaking with suppressed mirth.
Before Roy can do anything except frown in confusion, Havoc reads out a list of names in chronological order. "Stacy, Victoria, Elizabeth, Rose, and Gwendolyn are names you use in the first half of the page, sir. But then, your handwriting becomes rather…messy, and what do we have here?" Havoc raises an eyebrow at Roy, flashing a cocky grin as he reads on. "Riza…Riza…Riza…Riza again… Riza…Riza," Havoc glances at Roy, whose face is rapidly draining white. "Sir, why have you written Colonel Riza's name twenty times in a row?" Havoc grins, one eye blinking in a wink. "Something you want to tell the rest of us?"
"SHUT UP!" Roy snarls at him, grabbing the sheet of parchment and flicking his fingers at it. A huge fireball envelops not just that sheet, but all the other papers as well. "I was...half-asleep!" he blathers quickly, acutely aware of his reddening cheeks. "And I don't like what you're implying, Havoc." To top it all, now he appears distinctly singed.
"Apologies, sir," Havoc replies easily, standing to attention and glancing lazily at the pile of ash beside him. "I just came to tell you it's past seven-thirty."
Roy freezes for a moment as the news sinks in. Then he snaps his ruffled head to the clock, swears loudly, and runs for his coat, pulling the sable fabric onto his shoulders. "Havoc! Has Ri…everybody left yet?" he shouts, trying desperately to maintain a casual tone. Please don't have left for home yet, he pleads silently.
Havoc motions behind him with a finger. "I wouldn't know, sir. She," – Roy notices the emphasis – "hasn't left work yet. Perhaps the firing range, sir?" he suggests in a barely restrained chuckle.
Roy straightens, takes a deep breath to calm himself, and says sternly, "Thank you, Major Havoc." Havoc salutes smartly, but with a cocky flourish only he can accomplish. With difficulty, Roy stops himself from rolling his eyes and leaves the room with stuttering steps. Havoc collapses in a silent fit of laughter as he hears Roy break into a sprint behind the closed door.
(:~:)
Roy strides quickly across the courtyard, a master in the art of hurrying without appearing to do so. As the cool air bites into his skin, he tries unsuccessfully to dispel his foul mood. When he reaches the firing range, he gently slides open the door, his steps turning velvety-quiet as he paces silently to the darkened firing range. His shadow is long and sharp behind him, cut by the lights of the only lit booth. Calmly assembling a small-calibre handgun in the half-light is a girl in military uniform, her blonde hair standing out prominently from the shadows around her and the inky-black of her shirt.
Halting thirty feet behind her so as not to alert her of his presence, Roy watches as Riza deftly thumbs back the hammer and fires six shots in quick succession at a piece of white paper already riddled with holes. Her expression is one of intense concentration. Roy stops to fix the image in his mind, and cranes his neck to see the shape on the paper, but is too far away to make it out. Riza calmly puts down her gun and goes to collect the paper. When she returns, Roy has to jam a finger in his mouth to stop himself from uttering a shout of surprise.
Riza's serious face breaks into a sweet smile as she examines the sheet of paper, extending her hand to stroke its surface warmly. In almost exquisite neatness, small bullet-holes outline an image of on the white. Roy makes out a chin, a sharp nose, and spikes of hair…he nearly chokes. It is an outline of his head. Riza continues to trace the bullet-pocks with her finger, smiling as she does so.
Roy finally manages to unfreeze his lungs and gasp in a breath.
As if alerted by some infinitesimal sound, Riza swivels and calls sharply, "Who's there?" Her hand hovers above the holster at her side. Wincing inwardly, Roy emerges out of the shadows, blinking as the garish white light of the booth washes over him. Riza snaps to attention, startled at the sight of him, and thrusts the image she has made behind her, a blush rapidly creeping up her cheeks. "General!" she says. "I'm sorry…I didn't hear you coming."
Roy, for once, is glad the half-light obscures his equally crimson face. "Um…I was…that is, would you consider…?" Aware that he is blundering, Roy steels himself and asks, "Would you like to have dinner out…with the rest of us? It's your birthday, after all." He cringes inwardly at how it sounds.
Riza's face, which had held a slightly hopeful air at the first half of his words, turns unreadable once more. "Ah…thank you for asking, General, but I intended to stay home tonight," she says with forced clarity. Flicking off the light, she gathers her coat and bag and walks by him in the pitch darkness. He feels her brush past, and opens his mouth, but no sound comes out.
At the door to the courtyard, Riza turns and calls, "Goodnight, General." Something in her voice belies regret.
"Goodnight," Roy returns. Riza smiles gently at him and slips out, leaving him alone in the dark. In the heavy silence afterwards, Roy slowly walks over to the wall and methodically bangs his head against it. With each impact, a word appears in his thoughts. You…stupid…idiot…Roy…Mustang… Growling, he rubs the newly-formed bruise on his forehead and stalks out, slamming the door behind him.
He is halfway across the courtyard before revelation strikes him. With new energy in his feet, he races back up to his chambers, changes into civilian dress, and grabs his hat and a wrapped package. He tears off his glove and tries desperately to slick back his hair with water into something resembling neatness. He fails miserably. Ignoring this, Roy rushes out, saying to a passing Havoc as he leaves, "I've got something to do. Goodnight."
Havoc pauses as he watches Roy walk into the wind, his sable coat flapping about him. Lighting a new cigarette, Havoc heads up to other levels in Headquarters. It is fortunate that all our colleagues are here for the annual report, he muses. They'll be interested in this.
(:~:)
Twenty minutes later, a group of highly trained military personnel hover in an alley, watching Roy step out of a shop, now holding two packages in his arms. Havoc, Fuery, Falman, Breda, Maria Ross, Brosh, and Armstrong all narrow their eyes as they try to discern what Roy has bought.
"What's that?" Fuery hisses to Havoc.
Havoc frowns. "A…vase, I think."
Falman rolls his eyes. "So you dragged us all out here to watch the General shopping? What if he finds us?"
"Don't worry, I have a backup plan." Havoc replies breezily. "And if the backup plan doesn't work, just grovel and hope he doesn't fry our brains."
"Shut up." The men look to their left to find Maria grinning with a girlish sort of glee. "If he's doing what I think he's doing, he's a far better man than many of his girlfriends think."
"So…what is he doing?" Armstrong hazards.
"Wait and see," Maria whispers. "Come on." Silently, the group slips out, following Roy at a discrete distance. The large crowds on the boulevard conveniently obscure them.
The next shop Roy enters sends Havoc digging his elbows into many of his colleagues' ribs. "What did I tell you?" he chuckles. "The General's gone into a flower shop."
When Roy emerges from the shop, laden down with the wrapped vase, package in one hand, and a dozen red roses in the other, Maria breaks into a wide smile. "Yes…!" she laughs. "I knew it!"
By now, the group of soldiers are attracting much attention from the residents of the alley, watching from their windows at the giggling bunch of men and the single chuckling woman, seemingly drunkenly pointing at a man doing his shopping.
Roy's boots crunch on freshly fallen leaves as he marches briskly down the streets, listening the piping tunes of the wind in his ears, the gentle whispering song of the dancing leaves about him, a strange mixture of fear and exhilaration coursing through his veins. Autumn is shivering with the coming of winter, the flutesong turning into the silvered chimes of bells, frosty and warm in mellow tones, and Winter slowly shakes off its covering of snow and feels Roy's soft tread on the cobbles, a tapping rhythm both familiar and hopeful. The colours stand out sharper from each facet of reality; the deep navy blue of the darkening skies, warm yellowed lamplight in grey wrought-iron lamp posts falling on the creamy white yarn of Roy's scarf, clean and bright against his ebony coat.
Roy wonders whether his drink had been spiked. Whatever. He's enjoying the high right now.
All too soon, his long stride takes him to Riza's apartment block door. There, his confidence evaporates, leaving his mind stabbed with knives of incapability. So he wonders back and forth on the stone steps, his face one of serious contemplation, while in the alley opposite, barely stifled laughter echoes off the walls.
Finally Roy bites his lip, pinches himself hard on the arm, and enters the building, nodding courteously to the doorman, who nods back blandly and resumes watching the street, whereupon he raises his eyebrows at the small crowd of snorting soldiers that rush into the side alley next to the building he guards. One of them tosses a gold coin at the doorman, simultaneously showing a military badge. The doorman bites the coin and pretends he sees nothing.
Undaunted, Havoc motions with a hand and his companions flow up the fire escape, coming to a halt outside Riza's half-open window. And with bated breath, they wait.
(:~:)
In the flickering crackles of a warm fire, Riza lays the table with a single plate and cutlery, placing a pot of stew by it. She reflects that she has made more than enough for herself today; a wry smile touches her lips. Who could I possibly have to share it with? As if in answer, a soft nose touches her ankle, and Riza bends to scratch Hayate's ears affectionately, murmuring, "Thank you, Hayate. I love you too." Unbidden, a soft wrench grows in her heart. Riza laughs again. Why, lonely on your birthday? she muses. When Roy had asked her to join the others for dinner, a small, deeply buried part of her had wanted to say yes. But something had stopped her.
Riza refuses to allow any regret to surface, but Roy's crestfallen expression when she had refused swims before her closed eyes. "Handsome adorable idiot," she murmurs to herself, warmth stirring in her heart despite herself.
Then two discreet knocks sound on the wooden front door, as if the knocker is one of confidence, yet strangely hesitant. Riza stands still for a moment, a bizarre hope springing up within her, only to be quashed by her sharply focussed mind. Steeling herself, she puts on a bland expression and calmly opens the door.
And her cheeks turn scarlet.
Roy blinks down at her, looking like a sable-topped beetroot. But a very adorable little vegetable, Riza wonders, then slaps herself mentally for the idiotic thought. Roy's hair is ruffled by the wind, a dry leaf caught here and there in the ebony strands, his white scarf wrapped securely around his neck. He gives her a hesitant smile, proffering (she thought) an enormous bouquet of roses. Riza detects just the minutest tremble in his white-gloved hands, and finds that the uncertainty in his dark eyes twinkles sweetly at her.
Riza is unaware of how she appears to Roy. To Roy, her golden hair is shining about her shoulders, and he finds the depths of her dark brown eyes, as always, unreadable. He tries not to hyperventilate and lose what face he still has left. Roy opens his mouth. He had rehearsed a speech on the way over, but now he finds his mind blissfully, echoingly blank. "Riza…I got these for you," he stammers, cursing inwardly as he lifts the flowers.
Riza sighs, and accepts the roses with a raised eyebrow. Best take them before he collapses from nerves, she thinks. "Come in, Gen…Roy," she corrects herself. "I thought I refused the offer of dinner," she says plainly.
Appearing relieved that the initial awkwardness, at least, is over, Roy steps in, closing the door behind him, and answers airily, "You said you wanted to stay home. Didn't mean you wouldn't get lonely." He absently ruffles Hayate's neck as the dog bounds over to lick his shoes. "Well, do you?"
"Do I what?" Riza returns, gripping the back of her chair to stop her hands shaking. She hopes Roy doesn't notice.
"Do you need company?" Roy swallows nervously. "Because if you don't, I can go." He runs his hand through his hair absentmindedly, but the leaves remain in the tangle of black. He looks like he doesn't know whether to stand still or to run for his life. He dithers for a moment, and half-turns to go.
Riza's emotional and sensible sides clash within her, and finally, emotion wins out. "Wait." Riza manages to make her tone one of calm. "Thank you for coming, Roy. If you could stay, stay. I made more than enough dinner for the two of us."
Roy lets out a slow breath and hangs his hat, coat and scarf on the wall, placing the two packages on the table. His face regains some of its original colour. Outside the window, Havoc pumps his fist in the air, nudging his companions.
Riza smiles at the roses. "It's nice of you to get me flowers, but I don't have a va-" she stops, amused, when Roy unwraps the first package to reveal an elegant vase. "You remembered," Riza murmurs.
"Naturally," Roy answers, bringing the vase over to the sink. Over the sound of running water, he continues, "I also remembered that the past two times I asked you out, you rejected me. So I decided to take matters into my own hands." He hesitates before continuing, "And after what happened in the park two weeks ago…"
Riza joins him, neatly arranging the roses in the water, and reaches up, deftly flicking the dry leaves out of Roy's hair. "Of course," she answers. Roy's heartbeat doubles at her touch, and he turns away to hide his flushing face.
On the shivering metal of the fire escape, Maria grins, even as the men around her whistle slowly. "For once in your life, you were right. The park? Are they serious?" Armstrong nudges Havoc teasingly. Havoc mock-punches him and turns back to the window, straining to hear the conversation within.
"Thank you," Roy says, as he helps Riza set another place at the table.
"For what?" Riza asks lightly.
"For knowing me well. You decorated my office, didn't you?"
"Of course I did," Riza returns, raising an eyebrow "You should have seen that poor Corporal's face. He must have nearly wet his pants."
Roy laughs, a light, free chuckle that is so unlike him, those outside the window are surprised. "You are amazing. It was like you knew exactly what I wanted the place to look like."
"I didn't," Riza says, lowering herself into the chair Roy has pulled out for her. "I decorated your office according to what I wanted it to look like."
"We must be telepathic," Roy murmurs with a smile as he sits opposite her.
"Don't be ridiculous, Roy," Riza says emotionlessly. "Telepathy doesn't exist." Roy's smile turns wan.
Riza watches as Roy's eyes light up the moment he tastes her stew. She hides a smile as she sees him visibly restrain himself from cramming the entire thing in his mouth. "Good?" she asks carelessly.
"Are you kidding?" Roy mumbles through a mouthful of stew. "This is like ambrosia! You must get tired of eating lunch at the mess hall if you can make this."
Riza secretly glows within, but what comes from her lips are the words, "Roy, please try to eat discreetly."
Roy doesn't answer, having just stuffed another forkful of stew in his mouth. He flails about with his other hand, making grandiose motions at the food. Riza laughs, for real this time.
In the chilling wind on the fire escape, the men rub their stomachs as the delicious smell of Riza's stew reaches their noses. Marie hands a few mints around, and Havoc mumbles something about being able to live on smokes.
The next bit of conversation rewards their wait.
"Are you happy, Roy?" Riza asks suddenly.
"Why the question?" Roy mutters lazily, sitting back with a sigh, having scraped clean the bowl before him.
"Because you said to me once before that if you could be one of the stepping stones to a great Amestris, you would be content." Riza tilts her head at him. "Are you now?"
Roy taps a finger by his fork. "I think the answer, if asked at any other time besides the present, would be 'no', but presently, the answer is an overwhelming 'yes'." He grins sleazily at her. "Not very coherent, was it?"
"You never need to be coherent for me to understand you," Riza says easily, standing to clear the plates and empty wine glasses. Roy scrambles to help, and after a pause, Riza lets him. Gathering her courage, she says to nothing in particular, "May I ask the reason why you would be so happy right now?"
"Because you're here with me," Roy says simply. His twinkling gaze dares her to challenge this.
At this, Maria hisses to her companions outside the window, "I'm not intruding on this any further," and promptly climbs down a level. The men, being giggling idiots, remain listening with glee. "Why not?" Havoc murmurs down to her. "This is great stuff. I'm using it for my future dates." Maria glares back up at him, growling in an undertone, "I think it's rude to eavesdrop on a private conversation!" Finding that her glare is useless on Havoc, Maria turns instead to Brosh, whose shoulders slump. Brosh reluctantly joins her below the others, who snigger at his crestfallen expression.
Riza supresses the roiling emotions within her and manages to reply to Roy's words evenly. "I'm always with you. I'm your top aide, after all."
When she turns back, she finds her hand captured by his. "You know what I mean," he says gently.
"General, what are you doing?" Riza snaps, a momentary return to her usual self. She tries to withdraw her hand, unsuccessfully.
"Giving you a birthday present," Roy answers cockily, reaching for the last package. "Here." He places it in her free hand.
Riza feels the warm, heavy weight of it and places it on the coffee table to unwrap. The gleam of polished wood runs under her slim fingers. As she lifts the checkered object carefully out of the paper, Riza murmurs uncomprehendingly, "Your favourite chess set?"
Roy grins sheepishly, rubbing his ear. "I thought about what to get you. This was the most treasured thing I had." He finds his brain a bit fuddled from the wine.
Riza unclasps the latch on the oiled wood surface and unfolds the board, running a finger over the chess pieces nestled in velvet. "It's beautiful, but…this must have been in your family for generations."
"Well, yes," Roy admits, crashing into the sofa beside her. He scratches his head absentmindedly. "Doesn't mean that by giving it to you, I'll break the tradition." He freezes, his face flushing crimson, as he realises what he just said. "I…uh…" he stammers, looking everywhere, anywhere but Riza's expression.
Watching through the crack in the window, Havoc's cigarette drops out of his gaping mouth. "Did he just ask what I think he did?" Breda hisses in his ear. Havoc nods mutely. He didn't expect this. All the men around him have expressions of somewhat fluffy shock.
Riza takes a calming breath. "Roy…shall we forget what you just said?" she asks carefully.
"Yes!" Roy answers, far too quickly. "Sorry, I was being an idiot, I…" Aware that he is babbling, he hides the spasm in his hand by reaching for the chess set. "A quick game?"
"You'll win," Riza sighs.
"Not necessarily."
As the chess pieces move with velvety silence across the polished board, Roy stumbles out a question. "Riza, which do you think is the most important piece on the board?"
"Why, the king, of course," Riza answers. "All the pieces on the board exist to protect the king." Her soft gaze, holding his, shows she understands the conversation beyond what their words seemingly mean.
"Ah, but he king himself is essentially powerless without those around him," Roy grins, pushing forward a pawn. His moves are not nearly as clean as usual. His mind is elsewhere, in a separate world created by metaphors. "Guess again."
Riza shrugs. They play on for a while. Their hidden colleagues outside shiver on.
But then Riza murmurs contemplatively, "The knight, then. He who strikes without warning." Her knight jumps forward and to the left, knocking away one of Roy's pawns. "Champion of the king."
Roy grins down at the board. "Yes, the knight is powerful." His fingers hover over his own knight. "But far more deadly is the queen." His queen, carved exquisitely out of white wood, darts diagonally to swallow Riza's knight.
"Why would that be?" Riza speaks past the lump in her throat.
Roy strokes the wood with a finger. Neither of them is moving the pieces anymore. Instead, Riza listens with rapture, both elbows on the table, supporting her chin. Her eyes hold an intelligent light. Roy dry-swallows. "The queen," he begins hoarsely, fingering the piece, "is the one who protects the king. Should the king lose his queen" – here, he meets Riza's gaze intensely – "he would usually lose the game."
"Ah, but the queen would be useless should the king perish," Riza motions gently at her own queen, standing sentinel by the king. She leans forward, challenging him to deny it. "I still believe the queen should treasure the king the most."
"Yes, but the king is as good as dead should the queen leave him," Roy's voice rings out in determination. He half-rises. "The king cannot survive without the queen, and neither can the queen live without him."
"They depend on each other for survival," Riza murmurs, gazing unblinkingly at Roy. She is somewhat surprised to see their hands are linked on the table. Roy reaches dazedly for her chin.
"Yes, we do," Roy whispers back. Their heads are but a foot away from each other by now. Already, alarm bells are ringing in both their minds, but in Roy's case, his brain has turned to mush, and Riza finds herself happily frozen, her eyes half-closed. As if in a dream, Roy leans closer…
…and his gaze falls on a wisp of smoke curling through the cool air outside the window.
Riza turns with his stare and sees the same thing, immediately understanding. When they swivel back to each other, they both jump at how close their faces are. Roy hurriedly drops Riza's hand and makes a random motion with his own self-consciously. Riza clears her throat and turns away. In that moment when her gaze leaves his, Roy drops his head and facepalms dejectedly.
Avoiding each other's gazes, but with the same mission in mind, they rise from the table and turn toward the window. At Riza's whispered word, Hayate darts forward and noses the window completely open.
Under the window ledge, Havoc and the others are still reeling from what they have just heard and seen. Hyperventilation, apparently, is the new trend. Havoc's frenzied inhalations and exhalations send the smoke from his newly-lit cigarette curling spectacularly through the air.
The group of hardened military men shrink back in fear as they hear footsteps approach the window, now fully open. "Come, Hayate," they hear Riza call lightly. A scrabbling sound can be heard as Hayate returns to his master. Havoc heaves a sigh of relief, rising slightly from his crouch so his ash-blond hair pokes above the level of the windowsill–
PHWOAR.
Fire. Twisting, roaring, laughing insanely with power, the flames dance out of the window in a concentrated burst of pure energy, crisping the air above the men with an almost unbearable heat. Yellowed fingers feel for their faces, withdrawing just before the men are burnt, yet drawing the moisture from their lips and blinding them with incandescence. This is true fire, the ancient element that dances to its own melody, and if uncontrolled, rules supreme with macabre power, sucking the colour out of the world around them, bleaching reality until all one can see are the beautiful, waltzing tongues of fire. And these iridescent flames serve Roy Mustang.
The flames cease with a strangely hollow pop.
Jean Havoc stops trembling, and blinks rapidly, trying to draw breath into his scorched lungs. His cigarette has already burned to crisp. Unbidden, tears flood his eyes and pour down his cheeks, and he bends over, hacking. Dimly, he registers that the others around him are doing the same. When he has somewhat recovered, he raises his head to find something even more terrifying.
Roy Mustang stares impassively back at Havoc, dark eyes narrowing into slits, one white-gloved hand still raised, the fingers prepared to click. Behind him, Riza has one hand to her mouth, as if struggling between screaming at him and laughing. Her shoulders shake.
One moment, that could be Havoc's last, or one of many to come.
"Major. All of you." Roy's voice is dangerously cool, like champagne edged with poison. "Explain yourselves."
Behind Havoc, the rest of the group scramble to their feet, nursing singed noses or watering eyes. They stand to attention smartly, and Armstrong bashes his head against the next level of the fire escape. Maria and Brosh, the only two unscathed, climb up next to them. They all have the unmistakable look of cornered prey in their eyes.
Roy puts his arms behind his back and draws himself up impressively, frying them with a glare that could rival even his deadliest strikes of flame alchemy.
Seven people quail. One man produces a huge box at least three feet wide from nowhere with a magician's flourish. "We brought cake! Happy Birthday!" Havoc declares sheepishly. Maria stares at him from behind, as if wondering where in the world he could have hidden it all this time.
Silence. Then Roy growls with a tremor-inducing snarl, "What on earth were you–" he is cut off by a warm hand on his arm. He looks down at the dainty fingers made rough by many battles, and follows the smooth arm up to Riza's grin. That smile is a masterpiece. It conveys gratitude, it conveys humour, but most of all, it holds a thinly veiled threat.
General Roy Mustang, do not punish them, or I will make your life a living Hell, Riza's soft brown eyes tell him.
Roy feels his knees weaken.
Moving past him and pushing him behind her with a casual motion, Riza smiles graciously at the eight shivering people outside the casement, and says, "Do come in. It must be freezing out there."
"Thank you," Havoc mumbles through dry lips, half-climbing, half-falling into the room.
"Could you please take the cake, General?" Riza calls over her shoulder, extending a hand to help the others in. Maria dips her head apologetically at Riza, but Riza shakes her head in dismissal of it.
Moving in a strange daze, Roy takes the cake off Havoc's shaking hands and places it on the table. Then he turns and watches Riza close the window behind Brosh, completely unaware of Havoc's rapid hisses to his friends, "See? I told you I had a backup plan!"
Riza turns from rearranging the curtains to give Roy a pointed look. Roy understands and moves to the side as she faces the others. "Thank you," Riza says, "for this lovely surprise." She tilts her head at Havoc, before smiling a crocodile smile. "Havoc. Your hair is on fire."
Havoc's shrieks and flailings are drowned out by the general laughter.
Roy doesn't say anything as the others bustle about, finding plates for cake and candles, but when nobody is watching, Riza slips her hand in his and murmurs quickly in his ear, "Let them be. They mean well."
Roy nods and tries to hold on to her hand, but she darts away to the others. He smiles one of his rare smiles at them, though something in his heart stirs. Regret? No, it couldn't be. But as the group of nakama revel long into the night, and Riza's enchanting laughter rings out again and again, Roy knows he would give anything to have seen the smoke outside the window a minute later than he had.
I don't know, was that good enough? I'm worried I don't do Royai justice. Eeep. Am I evil to leave you there for the week? Sorry, I tend to revel in these things. I'll develop the story further next week. See you all, and please review.