"Lieutenant Colonel?"
"Yes, what is it?"
"The General needs to see you in his office right away."
"Thank you, Corporal. Tell him I'll be right in."
Lieutenant Colonel Riza Hawkeye smiled as she set down the phone. She got at least ten calls a day from Roy, insisting that he needed her in his office immediately. They were still adjusting to being down the hall from each other instead of in the same office. Two years had passed since The Promised Day, and Riza's promotion to Lieutenant Colonel meant she had a team of subordinates to work under her, and her own private office. She still ended up spending more time in Roy's office than her own, though, as his bodyguard and head of security.
Riza stood and stretched slightly before making her way down the hall to see what it was that Roy needed. He's probably having trouble finding his paperclips again, she thought with a sigh. He really was hopeless without her.
Things had been going well for them. It wasn't as if the romance was new. Their ability to fully engage in it, however, was another matter entirely. Technically, she was still Roy's subordinate, but with Grumman willingly looking the other way, surrounded by trusted colleagues, they'd agreed that they could keep things discreet. Riza doubted anyone would question two of the most visible heroes of The Promised Day even if news did break, but they were discreet.
They'd been stationed in the East up until six months ago, working on rebuilding relations with the newly formed independent nation of Ishbal. Grumman was getting ready to retire, and as he'd promised when he'd taken office, he'd established a council of advisors, of which Mustang was a founding member.
Politically, they'd had several important successes. The council had approved the use of democratic elections. Roy's dream had been realized, and he would be running for the office of Fuehrer of Amestris. The elections were only open to citizens who owned land in Amestris, but this was still better than the totalitarian system they'd had before. Of course, Roy was one of the top candidates.
Another major political issue up for debate was that of war crimes tribunals against soldiers who fought in the Ishballan Extermination campaign.
Personally, Roy hoped that tribunals would happen. If atonement for their sins was asked of them, Roy and Riza were both willing to pay the price, whatever that might be. The country was moving swiftly towards democracy, and the people were being told the full story of Ishbal and given a choice with how they handled the information. So many of their goals had been fulfilled, and now, whether or not Mustang became Fuhrer-President, his conscience would be clear in knowing he had helped to overthrow those ultimately responsible and in restoring truth and power to the hands of the people of Amestris.
The one subject of political debate between Roy and Riza was how War Crimes Tribunals should take place. If Roy was elected as fuhrer, it would be up to his administration to see that the tribunals were carried out. Mustang had promised publicly that in this scenario he would initiate his own Tribunal at the start of his last year in office, though the term of office had yet to be set. Where they disagreed was in which other soldiers should be required to present themselves for tribunals. Roy was insistent that only high- ranking officers and alchemists be included. While Riza agreed that most soldiers should be exempt on the grounds that they were following orders, she felt strongly that snipers should stand trial for their actions.
One night their debate had taken a turn towards an argument as Riza finally voiced her darker thoughts.
"You only want to exempt snipers because you don't want to see me punished," she'd snapped, jabbing her finger at his chest.
"That's not fair," Roy had replied in cold, rising fury.
"No, it isn't! You have no right to judge my crimes, that's the whole point! That's why we started all of this, so those responsible would be brought to justice, and that kind of atrocity would never take place again. Just because we've seen the changes start before you were elected doesn't change our goal!"
Roy had regarded her silently for a long moment, then risen from the sofa.
"You were barely eighteen years old," he'd hissed quietly as he left the room. "You were following orders, just like the rest." He'd slammed the door behind him, but he'd still heard her shout.
"So were you!"
They'd let the matter drop after that, at least between themselves. They each knew they were unlikely to change the other's mind, and so the subject remained closed. That had been two weeks prior.
Riza shook her head to clear her thoughts as she pushed open the door to Roy's office.
"Good afternoon, Scheiska." She smiled at the young woman who now worked as Roy's secretary. He had a grand reception area outside his own office- the perks of being appointed to the governing council.
"Good afternoon, Lieutenant Colonel Hawkeye!" Scheiska replied, leaping to her feet. "The General is expecting you, ma'am."
"Thank you," Riza said, opening the door to his private office and walking in. "Lieutenant Colonel Riza Hawkeye repo-." Riza was cut off by Roy's mouth on hers, kissing her soundly. She hastily slammed the door shut but couldn't help returning his kiss. Roy's arms were wrapped around her, pressing her tightly against his body. Riza gave a soft sigh of pleasure into his mouth, wondering if her knees might give way. "What are you doing?" she asked when they finally parted.
"I missed you," Roy murmured, pressing a far more gentle kiss to her lips, then another.
Riza smiled into his kisses, enjoying the affection they'd been denied for so long. Their relationship was essentially an open secret. Even those who knew had never been explicitly told, and with the election looming, it remained important to keep Roy's name away from any hint of scandal. Everything hinged on the outcome of the elections.
"Come on, stop," said Riza, pulling back after several minutes had passed. "We're in the office, Roy." He acquiesced to stop kissing her, but continued to hold her tightly, burying his face in her neck.
"I don't like you being so far away," he grumbled. Riza smiled again. He'd been almost clingy since they'd moved to Central, which probably would have annoyed her if she didn't also miss working in the same office with him. They still saw each other several times each day, but there was something strange about being separated-if only by a hallway- after so many years of working alongside each other.
"I saw you an hour ago," Riza informed her General, gently running her fingers through his silky black hair. She'd woken with him in her bed, and they'd walked to work together.
"I know," Roy replied with a shrug. "It's just different."
They both closed their eyes and enjoyed the embrace for a few more minutes before Riza pulled away.
"Come on," she said with a chuckle. "We're both busy with your campaign. We need to get back to work."
"Come sit with me for a minute," Roy said, sitting on a small sofa near the window and patting the seat beside him.
Riza placed her hand on her hip.
"Did you call me in here for the sole purpose of canoodling?" she asked, her stern attitude betrayed by her grin.
Roy shrugged.
"Basically."
Riza rolled her eyes and turned to leave the office.
"Get back to work, General," she said.
"Get over here and kiss me, Lieutenant Colonel," he said, his voice low. "That's an order."
Work could always wait until later.
—-
There was a week remaining before the public elections. The council continued to meet daily to discuss ongoing issues and iron out details of the elections. Roy was the only current member of the council running for Fuhrer President. General Armstrong had surprised everyone (except Riza) by not throwing her ring in the hat, and declining Grumman's offer of a seat on the council. The other candidates were another General, Loman Huller; and a professor of politics at Central's largest University, Henriette Bridger.
For the most part, Roy agreed with Bridger's views of politics. She seemed eager for a democratic government, willing to establish a system of checks and balances between the military, judicial, and political branches of the government. She favored a small central government, with much of the power returned to regional and local seats of authority. Roy thought her plans a bit idealistic, considering that there currently were no seats of regional or local authority apart from the military. Re-establishing a parliament was something that all of the candidates agreed needed to happen. However, the biggest difference in their platforms was Ishbal.
While she had publicly agreed to conduct war crimes tribunals, it was clear they would be very limited in scope. Bridger publicly preached a policy of reconciliation, and she had stated very clearly that she would not endorse capital punishment for soldiers of any rank. Bridger insisted that this was the only way to stop the cycle of generational violence that had existed between the two countries for centuries. Ishbal was becoming their ally, and vengeance, she said, would accomplish nothing.
Roy didn't see it as vengeance, but justice. He hadn't shied away from the question that when the time came, he was willing to be investigated himself. Indeed, he would insist on it, and he wasn't against capital punishments. Even when asked point-blank by the press if he would "sign his own death warrant", Roy's conviction hadn't wavered.
General Huller's approach was different. He favored a strong central military branch, not quite the totalitarian government they'd once been, but not a true democracy either. The people would vote, but voting would be restricted to certain groups of the population, and the political and military branches would retain powers to overrule the vote. He, too, had promised to "investigate" the conduct of soldiers in Ishbal. Huller hadn't participated in the massacre personally, but he'd certainly been involved in what had happened, knowing and issuing orders to those in the field. Roy and Riza believed the man would do anything to save his own skin.
In that final week, all three candidates were called to appear before the council. Roy left his place at the council table and stood in the center of the room with his peers.
President-Fuhrer King Grumman presided over the meeting.
"Thank you all for coming today. We know you are all working hard on your campaigns, but we have important matters which remain to be discussed." He looked sharply at each of them in turn. "The primary concern of this council is and has always been the stabilization of Amestris. Our country has been through hard years, and we remain determined to ensure its survival." Grumman laced his fingers together, peering down as Bridger and Huller shifted uncomfortably. Roy remained standing at ease, his hands clasped behind his back. He barely contained a smirk as he enjoyed the feeling of knowing that which his competitors did not.
"Now," Grumman continued, "the purpose for our meeting today is to discuss potential scenarios, to establish specific procedures for each of you in the case you are in fact elected the next leader of our great nation." It escaped no one's notice that Bridger and Huller exchanged an uneasy glance.
"Of course the question of war crimes tribunals will also play a factor in this case. You have each made promises to the people. Our council will remain in force to ensure that the will of the people is heard."
"Sir," interjected Huller, "surely there is no reason to have a governing council and a sitting fuhrer president. It would undermine the very office to which one of us will be elected!" Bridger shifted but remained silent, and Roy's smile became more pronounced.
"Ah," Grumman replied, "But this is precisely the point, m'boy. The office must be undermined insofar as much as the will of the people is imposed upon it. Surely that's why you, as well as your colleagues here, have agreed to re-institute a parliament?"
"There is, we fear, a great risk that despite this democratic process of election, we could find ourselves set up with a new dictator to replace the old. We are rewriting the very laws of this nation, day by day, to make quite certain that the mistakes of our past do not fall upon us again. Surely we can all agree on that necessity, gentleman, my lady, hmm?" He narrowed his eyes as he surveyed their faces.
"Indeed," Roy said mildly. Bridger inclined her head slightly, and Huller gave a jerky nod of acquiescence, his face sour.
"Moving on then," said Grumman with a smile. "This council, as I said, shall remain in place to enforce the will of the people. We will be an advisory cabinet of sorts for the new fuhrer president. And we will have the power to overrule certain decisions undertaken by the fuhrer president. It is simply too big a job to be entirely managed by one person, I'm sure you all realize. I assume you had each planned to put your own people in an advisory council, and you'll have that opportunity. Those of us currently on the council will serve a maximum of two years, giving way to others and also allowing for civilians to take on certain of our roles.
"I realize," he continued, "that this news comes late in the game with the elections so close. In truth, we've needed this time to decide how we would proceed, and it is only now that we've come to this arrangement. As it is, I am the one in charge at the moment. And you'll find that there is," he gestured around the room at his fellow council members, "a great deal of power and influence represented here. You'd find yourselves hard pressed in any attempt to rule without our consent and guidance. This is the way things shall be run, it shall be the law of Amestris moving forward, and we shall brook no argument at this juncture."
Again, Grumman's steely gaze raked over each of them in turn. Bridger stood with her eyes slightly narrowed, but showed no outward sign of resistance. Roy remained relaxed and at ease, having been a part of the council as these decisions were hammered out among its members, the news came of course as no surprise to him.
Huller, however, had turned very red in the face, indeed. He rounded on Roy, pointing into the dark-haired man's face.
"This is your doing," he snarled. "This is your slimy attempt to wrest power from us in case you are not elected. It's foul play, Mustang! I should have expected as much!"
"Not at all," Roy replied mildly. "In fact, I'd like to take this moment to officially resign my seat in the governing council of Amestris. I understand now how it may be seen as a conflict of interest, and I wish only to run a clean and fair campaign." He turned to address the council, with a slight bow. "Sirs, I ask you now to accept my resignation." Each of the council members raised his hand in turn.
This hadn't been unexpected. Roy had had no intention of turning over his council seat before this meeting, and there had been times in the previous months when he feared it might never come to fruition. It had taken careful diplomacy and negotiation to reach these conclusions among the council members. They'd taken a final vote on this all-important matter just yesterday. Now, Roy knew, there was a backup system in place. If he lost the vote, the council would remain strong and stable enough to prevent a backwards slide towards totalitarianism, or a complete reversal into a failure to support the military and the will of the people. This, it felt, was the final move in his long game of chess. Check.
Next the election, where he was leading the polls by just a hair. There was hope. Mate.
—-
The council met with each of the candidates individually next, discussing strategy and policy in the event that they were elected. Roy waited in the reception area outside the council chamber, hands behind his head, stretched out in his chair, eyes closed.
"Well, you certainly look relaxed. I take it things went well?" Riza walked towards him, arms folded, a smile playing across her face. Roy opened his eyes and smirked.
"Things went exactly as expected," he replied, sitting up straight in his chair. Riza nodded. This meant that Bridger had continued to play her cards close, not giving away her specific plans, but Hulman had shown his hand to the council. The news, she had ensured, would be leaked to the press, and Hulman's standing in the election would drop once the people saw that he did not support the council they had come to trust.
One down, she thought, One to go.
The door to the council chamber opened, and an officer approached Roy with a salute.
"The council will see you now, General," he said.
Roy stood and approached the door, flashing a grin at Riza over his shoulder.
"Wish me luck."
As the door closed behind him, he walked towards the chair that had been placed for him in the center of the room.
"I take it things went well with the other candidates?" he asked smoothly.
"You know perfectly well we cannot discuss the outcome of those meetings with you now that you've resigned your seat on this council," Hakuro replied tersely.
Roy shrugged.
"Hey, you can't blame me for trying. Let's get down to business," he said as he took his seat. With a gesture of his hand, a desk was placed before him by two soldiers, the paperwork he needed already sorted into neat piles (of course by Riza earlier that day). "I believe agriculture would be the first item on our list."
"Actually," Grumman spoke up, "we have other concerns that take priority."
Roy frowned then, surprised for the first time that day.
"And those would be?"
"Namely," another council member leaned forward, "this business of the Ishballan war, the potential for tribunals."
Roy's frown deepened.
"I believe I've made my position on this clear in my public statements, as well as prior conversations we've had," he said. "I will conduct war crimes tribunals. Commissioned officers of any rank who served at the front will be examined, as well as higher-ups who remained involved here in Central and elsewhere. All State Alchemists, past and present, who were active during the war will also be examined." He swallowed. "I have publicly promised to convene my own trial. And you have my assurances I will follow through on that promise." He met each of their eyes slowly, one by one, his gaze never wavering. They had to understand and believe that he would mete out the justice that was so warranted.
"That's not our concern." Yet another member of the council waved Roy's words aside.
"I've worked with you long enough to know that you mean it, Mustang." Hakuro admitted.
Roy started to speak but was interrupted by Grumman.
"One concern," he said, "is the fate of the sniper units who served in Ishbal." Their eyes locked on to one another. It was not common knowledge, even within this council, that Riza was Grumman's granddaughter. But Roy knew, and he knew that the older man's motives were not political in this case.
As the Fuhrer-President, Grumman held a lot of sway in the council. Others would vote his way, even if they privately disagreed, if it came down to that. Roy struggled with his demons in the quiet seconds before a response was required.
Riza. She wants to stand trial. She begged me to order it. But Grumman will never allow it.
And what of the other snipers? Those whose kill count was half of Riza's or less? No one in any of the units came close to the Hawk's Eye. Do they deserve to stand trial also? Does she deserve it more because of the number? Less because of her age? Less because she's worked so hard to get us to this point. Because of her guilt and shame…
But so have I. Roy didn't like admitting it to himself, but most of his reasons for wanting to spare her could be applied to himself as well. He wasn't so much older, two years. He'd sacrificed so much to get them to this point, they both had.
She wants this. But…
"And why," Roy responded slowly, "is that specific of such concern to this council?"
Grumman's eyes flashed behind his glasses, and Roy knew the other man wondered if he would reveal the familial connection, but, no. It wasn't Roy's secret to share and never had been.
"Well, Hawkeye, obviously," said Hakuro. Roy was so caught off guard by this, he nearly gave himself away, eyes jumping back to Grumman. But Hakuro continued. "If you are convicted in the middle of your term, she's your obvious successor. Short of calling an emergency vote, we have to suppose she would assume command in your place."
Roy's mind raced. He'd had the thought himself, but hadn't dared to suggest as much to Riza.
"Unless," Grumman picked up the other man's train of thought, "she was unavailable due to an event such as her own trial. In that case, it's unclear to us who would be your second in command."
"Chief of staff," Roy corrected. "As I've stated, I'll be appointing a chief of staff to serve alongside me, and that person would, I believe, be the most reasonable choice. I hope it is a model that others will follow in the future." Other names flashed through his mind's eye: Havoc, Breda, Falman, Armstrong. Fuery, Brosh, Ross, Armstrong again. He'd intended it would be Riza, it had to be Riza, right?
"All the same," Grumman continued. "Share your plans, Mustang. Let's settle this."
Understanding passed between them. Protect my granddaughter, for both of us.
Grumman wanted him to appoint Riza, now, as his chief of staff and exempt sniper units from being tried. That would solve the issue of succession for the rest of the council, it would protect Riza.
She'd kill him.
She didn't want to be his chief of staff. In the early years, when the plans had been developing, Roy had always intended that Hughes would be his successor. Riza wanted to remain in charge of security, continuing to support him while staying out of the political limelight herself.
More than that, she wanted to be brought to trial for her crimes. Sometimes, Roy thought she was trying to commit suicide-by firing squad. Sometimes, he thought he was, too.
He wished he could talk to her before making this decision. He should have predicted something like this from Grumman. The man wouldn't let his granddaughter be executed for war crimes. He knew Riza's wishes as well as Roy did, and Roy had let himself believe that her grandfather would acquiesce to her wishes.
Grumman always was a good chess player.
—-
The air in the room felt dense, profuse with tension. The team were gathered in a hotel suite, the grandest in central, awaiting the election results. They crowded around the radio, but the counting was slow, and there were hours more to wait. A decision wouldn't likely be reached until near dawn.
Roy hadn't discussed the specifics of the council meeting earlier that week with Riza. Well, he'd discussed all the other specifics, but those relating to her, to the fate of all the snipers that had served in Ishbal, to the appointment of his chief of staff…those specifics he'd kept to himself.
Roy swirled the glass of whiskey in his left hand and drained it.
Riza arched an eyebrow at him as if to say Take it easy. One way or another you've got a speech to make in a few hours' time.
"Riza," Roy said softly, tired of dancing around the subject. "We've got something to talk about, before tomorrow."
Her other eyebrow rose to meet the first, but she nodded, leading the way into one of the smaller bedrooms off the main suite.
"What is it?" Riza's voice was concerned as she laid a hand on Roy's arm. He covered it with his own, brought it up to his lips, and kissed it.
"We need to run over the possible scenarios," he started, knowing he was stalling.
"Should I get a notebook?" Riza asked, shifting easily into the mode of competent subordinate.
Roy shook his head. "Just run it down with me."
"Okay," Riza said slowly. They'd run through every possible scenario hundreds of times. But they both knew that they'd been avoiding the issue of a war crimes tribunal for snipers from the Ishbal War, specifically, for the Hawk's Eye, with more than a hundred confirmed kills, the most prolific sniper in Amestrian history.
"Well," she continued,"Huller lost a lot of political capital after his falling out with the governing council. His number-"
Roy cut her off.
"That's not what I meant. I know that," he said. His palms were sweating, he realized, wiping them nervously on his slacks as he took a seat on the hotel bed. Riza sat next to him, silent, calmly waiting for him to continue. He took a deep breath, looking at Riza's calm eyes. "The tribunals," he said finally.
Silence hung in the air for a long moment, growing uncomfortable.
"Have you made a decision, then?" Riza asked. Her voice held no venom, but a quiet sort of resolve.
"Yes," Roy admitted. "I want you to understand," he began, "to tell you why." There was another long pause before he added. "I hope you can forgive me, Ria."
Riza let out a sharp breath, then met his eyes, her own flashing in barely concealed fury.
"I was going to let tribunals for the snipers proceed, if it came down to it. I was going to deeply examine every factor, public opinion, the advice of the counsel. I intended to meet with other snipers myself and try to analyze it from all sides once I got the job." He reached for her hand then, and Riza allowed it. "I intended to take your opinion into account, even if it meant a trial for you and not the other snipers in your unit or the others." Her brow furrowed at that, but she let him continue, her gaze steadily meeting his.
"When I met with the council earlier this week, things changed," he said.
Riza did interrupt him now, her eyes widening in alarm.
"Grumman?" she asked.
"No," Roy said firmly. "Not in the way you're thinking at least." This, he thought, was true. Even though he was her grandfather, Roy believed that Grumman had taken other factors into his consideration, that the older general really believed urging Roy towards this decision had been the right thing to do.
Riza let him continue, then, uninterrupted.
"The council asked me what my plan was, in the event that I was elected and then had to put myself on trial. They asked me to name my chief of staff." Roy paused for a long moment, then, willing her to understand.
Riza shook her head fiercely, unable to speak.
"Yes, Riza," Roy said firmly, squeezing her hand. "There's no one else I trust to do this right."
"Havoc," she managed to squeeze out.
"No, Riza. It has to be you."
"No!"
Roy was taken aback by her volume. Riza ripped her hand from his and leapt to her feet.
"What gives you the right," she asked, positively shaking with rage, "to decide for me?" She backed away from him, her hand reaching into her blazer where Roy knew her pistol was concealed inside an extra deep pocket.
"Ria," he started to say, but she cut him off.
"What makes you think I ever wanted that? For even a moment? I have never given the slightest indication of an interest in politics for myself. I'm in this for you. So you can accomplish these goals you set to atone for your sins."
Riza pulled out the gun then and immediately began to disassemble it, a nervous habit he knew she was only reduced to under extreme duress.
"We talked about this, and I told you no! I won't do it," she said, teeth gritted. "There's no point in keeping me out of the tribunals. I don't know if that's your angle here-"
"It's not," Roy said firmly. She looked up at him in surprise. He was telling the truth, which she hadn't expected. "Before I walked into that meeting I had all but decided to call all snipers who had a high confirmed kill total during the war, you included. I respected what you've said, I've spoken to others who feel the same way, and I wanted to honor your wishes."
"Then why?"
Roy sighed.
"Grumman orchestrated it perfectly," he said grimly. "He took me off guard when he conflated my choice of chief of staff with tribunals for the snipers." He blew out a breath. "I tried to stall, but Hakuro starting bleating on about transparency…. When they pressed me for a name there was nothing else I could say."
Riza shook her head.
"You knew how I would feel about this. You could have named any of the others, they've all worked just as hard to get us here."
"Not like you," Roy insisted. "You and Maes have always been the only ones I fully trusted, the only ones I knew for sure would never fold if the pressure became too intense. You can see this through if I can't."
"No. I can't."
Now she sat down again at the end of the bed, laying her reassembled gun on the bedspread beside her. She rested her head in her hands for a long moment, then finally looked up, eyes shining.
"I've withstood the pressure all this time for you," she said quietly. "Through all of it, there was always this tiny sliver of hope that we might come out on the other side and get to have a life together. Even though I knew we didn't deserve it, could never earn it back no matter how much good we put out into the world, I've still wanted it, always.
"I was against the whole idea of war crimes tribunals when we were first discussing it, years ago. The whole idea seemed ridiculous because I knew we could never find justice for what we'd done. We both know that."
Roy nodded slowly, letting her continue.
"Killing Bradley, defeating Father, taking back the Amestrian government, leading us into democracy, becoming fuhrer, rebuilding Ishbal, those were real things. They still wouldn't pay it back, but it was a way to put positive out into the world. I've lived my whole life for those dreams and for that little sliver of hope, for us, for you.
"So asking me to take your place, asking me to let you atone with your rank, your position, your freedom, maybe even your life while I live on in your place…I can't do it," she said simply, shrugging her shoulders. "I can't find the will to go on if I'm not moving towards you."
Roy didn't know how to respond. Never before had Riza denied him any request, questioned any order when it came to reaching their goals for Amestris. But finally it seemed…
"It's too much," Riza added quietly. "I'll be a wreck during your trial. I won't be in any fit state to command. I can't help it."
"I'm sorry," Roy said quietly. "I shouldn't have let myself get distracted from the issue when we argued about the snipers. If I had just foreseen this, been able to talk with you in advance, calmly, rationally instead of flying off half-cocked."
Riza dabbed at her eyes with her sleeve. "I lo-"
"Boss, get out here!" Breda shouted from the other room.
Roy smiled grimly.
"Back to work," he said, reaching for Riza's hand and squeezing it tight. She nodded, standing. "We'll figure it all out after tonight," Roy promised. But the dark thought loomed for both of them. If one of the others was elected, trials could be commenced immediately for war crimes. They might not figure any of it out. They might both be arrested before they had a chance.
"What's going on?" Riza asked as they rejoined their team, still huddled around the radio. "I thought the results were hours away."
"They're calling it early," Havoc said, puffing on a cigarette. "Not the race," he added, seeing their stunned faces.
Riza looked at Fury, confused.
"The polls," he said quietly.
"What polls?" Roy snapped, but the announcer was speaking again, and the others shushed him.
"As we continue to await the incoming votes from across the country, the ballots traveling by train to Central Headquarters, we are able to announce the results of some of the special opinion polls.
"These polls were created by the governing council to help determine how the country should move along, now that the corrupt government of Fuhrer-President King Bradley has fallen. As results for issues such as agriculture, sewage and sanitation, and taxes begin to arrive-"
"What's he going on about?" Roy growled, but Havoc gave him with a light elbow to the ribs. He frowned, rubbing the spot.
"Owing to the number of responses. And so, proportionally, we can now give a definite result in regards to certain of these issues, as the vast number of responses for one option over the other makes it a mathematical impossibility that the percentage could change so drastically.
"And here we are," the announcer paused. "In the special opinion poll pertaining to the following question: Owing to the hostile environment of the northern mountains, agriculturally-".
"What polls are they talking about?" Riza snapped. Her pistol was in her hand once more, and Roy had half a mind to block her path to the radio.
"On the ballot, the special opinion polls," Breda said.
"Shh," Maria Ross murmured, tapping Riza's shoulder. "Here it is."
Roy glanced down at Riza, both of them clearly lost.
"-for war crimes in the Ishballan conflict of 1901-1909. The people vote against commencement of war crimes tribunals-"
The rest of the broadcast was drowned out by the applause and cheers that broke out all around the room. Fury stood so fast he knocked over the radio, and it stopped playing altogether as he bent down trying to make sure all the pieces were still intact.
As their friends and colleagues celebrated, Roy and Riza stared at one another, the only two people in the room not cheering.
"Would someone please explain," Roy shouted to make himself heard, "what the hell is going on?"
Maria Ross spoke first.
"Sir, the council put special opinion polls on the ballot, to let the will of the people influence key political issues, so the new leader would have to face up to what the people want…," she trailed off as Riza and Roy both looked confused.
"How did you not know about this?" Brosch asked.
"Yeah, chief, didn't you vote?"
Roy and Riza, turned to look at each other, each wearing an identical expression of bewilderment.
"I…..I didn't even think of it," Riza said. "Security's been a nightmare all day, there was so much to do."
"You didn't vote for me?" Roy asked in horror. "Riza, your one vote could have been the one that decides the fate of this election!"
"Well, apparently you didn't vote for yourself, either!" She snapped back, hand twitching towards her handgun again.
Roy spluttered incoherently, as Rebecca slapped him on the back, laughing hysterically.
"Do you guys believe this?" She howled.
"It-it didn't seem honorable," Roy demurred, looking chagrined just the same.
"Ok," Riza said, holding up a hand to silence the room. "Can someone please explain to the Colonel and I what's happening?" Her use of his former rank showed exactly how flustered she was.
—-
It wasn't exactly relief, Roy would later reflect, it was more a sense of suddenly realizing that he'd been mistaken, so very wrongly mistaken in his own beliefs about what had happened and his role in the events. Atonement wasn't the point. It wasn't a possibility, never had been. This was about doing better, from here on out. Not just himself, but his nation had to do better. And he had an opportunity to play a part in that.
For Riza, the relief was instantaneous. She realized in that moment that she'd made her peace with what she'd done in Ishbal long ago. She wasn't sure when it had happened, certainly not in those early years when breathing the same air as others around her made her feel tainted by blood. But somewhere along the way, she'd come to accept that it was in the past. She couldn't change it, but she could move forward, and she'd been doing that, now, for years.
Only now, they had a chance, she and Roy. They had a real opportunity to work together, to start building a country they could be proud to serve- not as dogs, but as human beings with their own rights- rights to work, to create, to make peace, to love, to live.
The people of Amestris had a right to choose, and they'd spoken. The country wanted to heal, to re-build. Even more amazingly, the council had secretly arranged for special opinion polls to be distributed among the people of the Ishbalan nation. Overwhelmingly, over ninety percent of their population had voted against war crimes tribunals. Ishbala, it seemed, was a god of forgiveness, after all.
"It's going to be okay now," Riza said quietly, her words just for Roy as they moved into one another's embrace while their friends continued to celebrate. Not even all of their inner circle knew that there was a romantic relationship between them, but they knew that, as the only two veterans of Ishbal present, they needed a moment.
Roy held her tightly.
"Good god," he said quietly. "I never thought-"
"I know," Riza said, one hand coming to caress the back of his neck, feeling the silky strands of his hair tickle her skin. "But it's okay. It's out of our hands, now."
Roy shut his eyes tightly as he felt tears burn.
"It feels wrong," he said hoarsely, "But…" he trailed off, looking back at the radio, which Fury seemed to have successfully repaired. In the background Havoc was pouring a bottle of champagne. "I want it more now," Roy said, nodding towards the radio. "The chance to really do this."
"That's not wrong," Riza said, smiling. "I want it, too."
His eyebrows rose as he remembered their conversation only minutes before.
"I have to call Grumman," he said. "Now. He won't object, now that there's no issue with war tribunals, I can choose another chief of staff. You don't have to do it. The fucking bastard, putting me through that, it was all just an insurance policy. He had this planned all along, and he kept it from me." Roy stepped away, and started to go back into the smaller bedroom, to the phone, then stopped, and came back to Riza.
"Unless you want it?" He asked, searching her gaze. Riza considered, then shook her head.
"No," she said. "It was never about Ishbal, not wanting to be chief of staff. Politics is your dream, not mine."
Roy nodded, and started to turn away, then stopped again.
"What is?" he asked.
"What?"
"What is your dream, Ria? Without Ishbal hanging over your head, without trying to advance me in a political career, without fighting a war, what's your dream, now?"
—-
As Mustang's team exited the building the next morning, they were swarmed by press, cameras flashing all around.
"Back up, please." Riza and Maria tried to clear a path on each side, Havoc and Brosh assisting. Still the crowd pressed in around them, shouting, until Riza drew her gun and fired a single shot into the air.
"I said, 'Back. Up.'" She glowered around, and the press moved back, finally giving the team some breathing room, but still calling out questions, trying to get Roy's attention. He stopped, then, to address the crowd.
"Mr. President!"
"Fuehrer Mustang!"
"Please, gentleman, one at the time." Roy's smirk was that of the cat that ate the cream.
"Mr. President, how does it feel to be Fuehrer?"
"It feels like a life-long dream come true," he answered honestly. "I've always felt that this was my calling. I am grateful to the people of this wonderful country for giving me a chance."
"Are you disappointed about the new law which shortens your reign to fifteen years instead of a lifetime?"
Roy laughed.
"No, not at all. I think that should be plenty of time to get the country up and running. Personally, I think I'll be looking forward to retirement by then."
A few people chuckled, and Roy felt a surge of excitement. It was going well, his first official statement as fuhrer.
"What do you think about the country's decision not to pursue war crimes tribunals for the soldiers who fought in Ishbal, soldiers like yourself, sir?"
A hush fell over the crowd, then, and Roy knew this answer was perhaps the most important.
"In all honesty," he said, "I have a lot of mixed feelings. The trials were something I've pursued politically for a long time, and a part of me still feels it would be the truest way to carry out justice."
He paused, taking a deep breath.
"But I also know that no trial, no punishment can change the past. So I choose to move forward." He only just avoided glancing at Riza, who stood just to his left, surveying the perimeter for security risks, just as always. "I choose to abide by the will of my people in this matter, as I dearly hope I will be able to do in many other matters over the days to come."
Another burst of sound broke out among the journalists as they shouted out questions, drowning one another out. Then, one voice seemed to rise above the others.
"President Mustang, what is the nature of your relationship with Lieutenant Colonel Riza Hawkeye? Do you have a comment?"
Riza looked at him, then, a faint blush tainting her cheeks. That didn't take long, her gaze seemed to say. Roy reached out for her hand.
He grinned instead of smirking as he answered, his eyes remaining on Riza's as he answered:
"You can start calling her the First Lady of Amestris. I can see the news leaked out already. We were married just a few hours ago."
They kept smiling at each other as the flashbulbs of cameras went off all around them.
As the election had drawn closer and closer to a conclusion in the early hours of the morning, Roy's numbers slowly edging out the competition, Roy had come to a decision. Anti-fraternization regulations didn't necessarily need to apply to a sitting Fuhrer-president. And, if he didn't get elected, so be it. Perhaps there'd be other ways to serve outside the military, for both of them.
They'd used some of Roy's rapidly building political clout to summon a judge to the hotel suite where they were married in a simple civil union, surrounded by their friends and supporters, as well as Chris Mustang, who'd only mildly objected to being woken at such an hour by soldiers knocking on her door to escort her to the wedding. Grumman had proudly escorted his granddaughter down the short makeshift aisle, kissing her cheek as he whispered how proud he was of both of them.
Riza's dream had come true that night, too.
Roy raised his eyebrows slightly in question, then, and Riza's blush rose, but she nodded slightly. The news had been bound to break quickly, and they'd choreographed their response to the question ahead of time. Roy pulled her in for a gentle kiss, and the cameras kept flashing again and again. They broke apart quickly, laughing as the assembled crowd began to cheer.
"Well that sends the right message," Riza shouted in his ear, her voice wry. "Glad we decided to keep focused on the message of goodwill and looking to the future of the country, save our news for later."
"What do you want me to say, they already knew!"
Roy laughed again, pulling her in for another kiss, this time to even louder applause.
As they separated, he called back to her.
"At least it gives them something to talk about!"