Title: Pride

Characters: Roy and Riza

Genre: Romance/Angst/Hurt and Comfort

Type: Possible Cannon Universe (takes place a couple hours after Maes funeral)

Words: 2,634 (without AN or Intro)

Pride:

(noun) a becoming or dignified sense of what is due to oneself or one's position or character; self-respect; self-esteem.

(noun) pleasure or satisfaction taken in something done by or belonging to oneself or believed to reflect credit upon oneself

The graveyard was empty. As he let his eyes roam the miles and miles of rolling green hills, blades of grass waved and danced in the light breeze as the sun gradually descended down into its final resting place for the day. Silently, he studied every engraved detail on the concrete tombstone before him. The funeral had ended hours ago, forever burned in the participants' memories of a little girl crying as they buried her father, pleading with her sobbing mother to make the hired diggers to stop. The family had left not long ago only because by that time Mae's daughter had been finally drained of all her energy, fast asleep in her mother's arm as she carried her down the hill, into their car and he watched as the headlights drove farther and farther away until they were completely obscured by the misty fog.

Once he was certain that he didn't have any other intruders, he lowered himself onto the freshly dug grave, embedding his fingers deep into the dirt, part of him hoping that he would be able to feel the coffin that held the lifeless body of his best friend. Gradually, he lowered his back so it was brushing against the tombstone, extending his neck in backwards angle, exposing the pale face of his neck.

For a while he sat like that, contemplating the world, alchemy, especially the man beneath him. He shouldn't have died. He wasn't even supposed to be on that mission, it wasn't his job, and it wasn't his duty. He should have let his mind wander to his warm home with his beautiful wife and adorable daughter. He should have thought about how they were eating dinner, his wife chatting with their young daughter as she babbled on about her day at school, complaining about how boys had cooties and how could she could sing the letters of the alphabet. And as each memory passed under his eyelids, temptation would grow, pressing and rising like a wave of heat until it became so unbearable that he would just have to turn around and leave, the next day forced to face the wrath of his boss. It would have at least assured him that maybe Maes would be alive and thriving with his small family instead laying in a mahogany box six feet under.

Part of him desperately wanted to lay blame on Maes for his death. That somehow he could spin the tale that it was Maes who had gotten himself killed, that he went to investigate a matter that had no relation to him based on his own curiosity rather than being a direct order from his higher up, who by coincidence was him.

However, he knew that the only person he was deluding was himself. It was entirely his fault that Maes was killed. There was no one else he could try to cleverly spin the blame on, to trick with his leering grin and mischievous orbs. It was his mistake; it was his pride that had lead to this entire incident when it could have easily been prevented. His pride had consumed his judgment which had strained his trust in his instincts. He believed Maes could do the job; he had done it what felt like a million of times with or without his order that he was practically an expert in the art of secrecy.

And this had been the result. Shot in the chest, bloody and lifeless, leaving the world with a devastated widowed wife and an emotionally scarred daughter. And it was his entire fault.

He wasn't given any more time to ponder his pitiful self revelations for he became enchanted by the sound of heavy foot prints crushing the blades of grass as the person trudge up the hill. He didn't need to angle his head sideways to see the intruder for the moment he heard the steps he knew it was Riza, fulfilling her given duty of being his guardian.

Once she had entered close distance of the grave, she halted in her descent and he could feel the heavy gaze of her watchful amber brown eyes. It didn't take a child genius to know what Riza was doing. She was studying him, swallowing the tiniest of details with her hawk eye stare. Right now in that head of hers, she was probably noting the stifling tension hat wound from his shoulders to his neck, the way his eyebrows were furrowed together; even the way he had sculpted his bangs over his shut eyelids. In that military driven mind of hers, she was probably going through all the safest and most effective ways to handle the situation in front of her.

He had predicted she would stay rooted to her spot and keep that eternal façade of tough love, letting him have a relishing hour or two of pain and suffering as he sorted and organized the mixed complicated emotions running through his head. What he had truly not expected was to hear the rustling of her sleeve as she reached out her arm, the warmth of her fingertips coming into contact with the skin of his temple, massaging the skin in utterly sensationally calming circles.

Her touch was invigorating. For someone who always wore such a cold demeanor, her fingertips were so incredibly hot that he felt if she pressed them harder into his scalp his skin would start to begin to smoke as it was scorched slowly away. It had taken all of his power to squash the moans that were vibrating his throat; however he could sense his efforts were futile for he could feel the corners of her mouth twitch in the form of a ghost of a smile.

Fueled by his purrs, Riza lifted another hand from his side, resting her fingertips gently across the curve of his temples, slowly massaging deep continuous circles into his skin. Gradually he let his sense start to fade away, slowly one by one until he was only left alone with the haunting of his memories.

X-x-X

They remained that way for an hour. Her fingers, even though the muscles began to tighten and cramp, continued in their endless circles as she leaned down next to his ear, whispering him a lullaby of sweet realities that were condemned to never come true.

Finally her efforts were awarded when he lifted his exhausted limp body off the ground and began to shuffle to the car that stood alone in a sea of concrete.

The journey to his house had been anything but a pleasant event. During the entire car ride, he had sat properly, his back parallel to the seat, his head slightly tilted to the side as he stared outside, watching as the world passed him by. If he were a child, Riza could imagine him leaning his forehead against the cool glass, his hand spread out beside him as if he were trying to capture the moving scenes, however no matter how hard he tried they always slipped through his hand like sand.

They spent forty five minutes in awkward silence and when Riza let out a gentle sigh of relief that she didn't know she was holding the surface of Roy's face fell. However, Riza didn't have the chance to see it for at that moment he had exited out of the car and started descending the parking lot to the faded, dusty balconies of the apartment building.

Riza knew that it wasn't safe to let him go alone. There was a high chance, if not a guaranteed, that he would search his house for his hidden bottles of beer in attempt to drown himself. She felt the promotion of death and without thinking any further about the consequences, her feet began to trace the path Roy had taken, a path that she had no idea would lead her to the gateways of the hell, where she would meet the devil.

She had lost him along the way but that didn't deter her resolve. She had visited his apartment enough to have memorized its location and it came to no surprise to her that as she turned the corner the glittering numbers of 453 caught her attention.

Not wanting to suddenly surprise him she slowed her fast pounding steps into gentle quiet taps and even at a much slower pace she found herself at the face of his poorly painted navy blue door faster than she would have liked.

Gradually, she began to stretch out her closed fist, ready to rap the whites of her knuckles against the hard wood door when unexpectedly it was thrown violently open. Before she could say a word, she was roughly grabbed by the wrist, pulled into the shadowed house, her back pressed against the door as it was slammed to a close.

The chill of the wood sank into the pores of her skin, completely ignoring the barrier of her clothes and she stared helplessly as she noticed she was pinned in by a pair of strong muscular arms. His hot pants ghosted over the skin of her cheeks and she found a greater appreciation for the darkness for it hid the embarrassing glow of rose that had dusted over her nose.

Even in the deep darkness his eyes were bright, boring into her amber orbs as they tried to search the depths of her soul as if she held the answers to the questions he was pondering.

His eyes continued to bore into hers, increasing the electrifying tension that was beginning to spread throughout the room. As if waves of power, they crashed into her, forming into sleek electrical bolts as they ran through her nervous system unraveling her frayed nerves.

The connection was broken once his gaze had flickered downward. She watched as they brushed over her small dainty features, flowing down the curve of her jaw before tracing the lines of her neck. His orbs, full of such intense lust, lowered downward, fascinated by the curves underneath her black attire, prickling her skin with the feeling of thousands of white hot needles.

Part of her, detached from the way the tension and his orbs wound her nerves and then unraveled them, pondered on what type of woman he saw behind those midnight galaxies. Did he see a woman who was deeply connected with herself and her pride, leaping over each hurtle that life had thrown at her? Or did he see a woman who was suffering from the sore misgivings of her father's awful ego, constantly seeking happiness only to be hindered by another brick wall?

His eyes began the trip upwards, drinking in every curve and peak of flesh as he sent her nerves unwinding and winding as if she were on a perpetual roller coaster, finally resting on her neck, specifically the crook where the muscles of her neck and shoulder connected. For a second he hovered over the spot, as if contemplating to do the action or not, before he latched his lips onto her skin, her heat beating feverishly under his satin warm lips.

With such vigor, he began to move his lips in a hypnotizing motion, her body quivering as the intense hot waves of pleasure had plagued her, spreading through her skin like a wild fire sending her senses in an acute frenzy.

His tongue, which had stayed dormant in the cavern of his mouth, had coiled out from its cave, licking her pulse as he bathed her skin in warm saliva. She felt as if she would melt into a pile of hot wax and as her body built more and more tension, she trembled, his name burning on the surface of his tongue. She was a pile of burning flesh and with each lick, each nibble, each bite, her mind slowly begun to unravel out of control and if she wasn't prepared she would find herself completely falling apart.

His hands, gaining more momentum from her lustful approval, cupped underneath her thighs, positioning her legs so they could wrap around his toned waist. Pressing her back further into the wood, she arched her back as he scrapped his teeth across her pulse, her fingers winding around his neck as she muttered in his name in a lustful moan.

The heat of passion scorched the room in pulsing warmth, bearing down on them as the electric tension continued to flow. Slowly, she felt as his hand slithered over the skin of her thighs, causing her to ache, over her rear before settling around her slim waist and locking her body against his in an iron tight grip. A moment later, he detached his perfectly scorching mouth off her neck, gulping in the air filling his lungs with the lust filled passion. For a minute, his eyes caught hers and before she knew it she was being dragged away into the room and she had avoided since she had met Roy. His bedroom.

X-x-X

Tangled in the sheets, bodies of flesh rubbed against each other after the night's wild activities. Roy was deep in the clutches of the realm of sleep while Riza was conscious studying the sleeping man who wrapped himself around her, resting his hands on her stomach.

It was the first time in many years that she had seen Roy so relaxed. Ever since the war, there had been permanent violet circles, wrinkle lines that were not there before began to crease his young face. And it seemed every moment that had passed since then, every horrible event had just made them press harder and harder into his face and the ridiculous part of her worried that they would consume his face.

Gently, so she didn't wake him, Riza lifted her fingertips to the panes of her face, letting them flow with the curve of his jaw.

It was Riza's best kept secret that she was in love with Roy. The moment she was first introduced to him, she felt her heart beat wildly in her chest, something no man had accomplished before. And as the years passed, she began to study his character, his flaws, his pride, his good qualities and she found that a part of her heart, which had always remained lock closed, opened. Somehow he had found the lost key and snuck his way in there, making himself feel as comfortable as possible.

She knew as well as he did that tonight would change nothing. He used her to comfort him, to help rid him of the deep pain that wound his way through his heart, through his soul. She was just a quick fix, like putting a band aid on a bleeding wound. And when the pain got unbearable again or his bed got colder than he preferred, he would somehow charm another woman into his grasp and do the same things he did to her.

Not that she was happy about the situation but she had something that those other woman could never have. She was his queen. She was his protector, his guardian, his angel that with the steady soft beat of wings would lead him to the correct path.

And as she struggled with his pride, the very emotion that held his mind down and tried to empty the good intentions out of his dreams, she would fight. Fight for his dreams, fight for him, and fight that horrid emotion until her very last breath because in this vast world, she was the only one he had left.

Author's Notes: I really loved writing this couple. They were a new challenge and while I am not a hundred percent content with this drabble I am at least ninety five percent. There are a few things I want to mention. I didn't want this to be some sappy, sex induced, predictable, cliche one shot about the two realizing their feelings then having sex and then one of them getting hurt and then they realize how much they need each other. I feel their relationship in the 2003 anime (can't speak for the manga or the newest remake) had a much deeper meaning and connection and I wanted to display this here. Second I know that is extremely, extremely rude for a person to sit on anther's grave however there is a reason I did. Roy is one who we can say follows the rules on the surface or outside but is constantly disobeying them inside his mind. I personally feel that if my friend had died I would lay on their grave, not to be rude but to simply seek the last emotional attachment I had to that person as a way to confirm that he or she was really gone from this world. For those who read this, thank you for taking the time and review please.