Riza fumbles in her bag for her keys, jostling the gun case slung over her shoulder. She fishes them out and opens the door of her apartment just as the phone begins to ring. She sighs.
Hot and sweaty after spending a couple of hours at the range, she doesn't particularly feel like talking, but she sets down her rifle and grabs the receiver anyways.
"Hello, Sergeant Hawkeye speaking."
"Riza." The sound of her first name sends a thrill down her spine. Strangely, the still-painful burns on her shoulder and back tingle, as though they recognize the voice- the voice of the man who'd caused them.
"Mr. Mustang." Her voice catches on his name.
"Um, yes. Hello."
"What? Um." Why is he calling her now, after all this time?
She's only just started to pick up the shattered pieces of the life she'd hoped to build before the war. She hasn't heard from him since he left her at the hospital in Rhiannh.
Technically, that isn't true. There had been a form letter, thanking her for her service under his command during the war (though she had not been under his command), offering condolences for her injury (the letter made no mention of the fact that he had given her that injury at her own request), and expressing a hope that they would cross paths again in the future. Riza doubts he even signed the letter by his own hand. She crumpled the thin paper in her hand and threw wit away without a second thought. He obviously harbors no feelings for her.
That isn't true, either. She's thought of that letter so often. She's thought of him every day, every time her back aches, and she's remembered the feel of his hands on her skin.
Why would he call her now, after all this time? His status as a war hero has made him famous. The "Hero of Ishval", people call him. Her stomach roils at the thought. What he's done, (what she's done) is anything but heroic. She remembers him telling her, just before he burned her, that he has plans, that he is going to do all in his power to make things right, and she'd known it was an impossible dream, even then. Somehow, she still catches herself, now, wanting to be a part of it. If there is any chance, any hope at all of redeeming even a small portion of what she's done…
Riza's attention snaps back to the conversation at hand.
"What can I do for you, Sir?" she says. Professional, she thinks. He is an officer who outranks her, despite his use of her name, and she can't let it get personal.
"I'd like you to come to Central."
"I'm sorry?" Wildly, she wonders why he would want to see her. Does he need to take another look at the burnt remains of the array on her back?
"There's things I can't say," he mutters. "Not over the phone."
Why?
"I checked your file, and I know you have some leave saved up. You should have taken more time after your…injury." He clears his throat again. "I also noticed your enlistment comes to an end next month. I'd like you to come to Central, to consider moving here."
"I don't plan to leave the military, sir," she says, surprised.
"I think you might want to reconsider that, Sergeant. I can't say more until we have the chance to speak in person."
"I-." She hesitates. This is Roy. Her first love, her childhood sweetheart, the man who would always have a piece of her heart.
She can't even entertain the idea that he might be interested in having a relationship with her now. It's too much to hope for. Besides, his reputation in the year since Ishbal has spread far and wide. He is a typical playboy, the type of man who has a different woman on his arm every other week, and the newspapers have eaten it up. If the rumors are to be believed, he's had most of them in his bed, too. Women talk.
Riza was the first notch in his bedpost, nothing more.
Again, she remembers his plans, and she wonders if he still wants her help. Maybe there is something she can finally do that might start to feel like she is making a difference. Maybe even make her feel like she is starting to live again.
She says, "Yes."
For some reason that she can't qualify, she still trusts Roy Mustang.
She tries, at first, to rationalize the decision to herself, swinging back and forth in her own mind. He's the man who abandoned her, the Flame Alchemist who betrayed her. He's also the sweet teenage boy who tried to defend and protect her, the person who brought light and laughter into her lonely world. He's the only person she's heard speak about the atrocities committed in Ishbal with any plan or hope to actually do something.
Despite her anxieties, she has a foreign sense of hope as she applies for her leave of absence, packs up her meager possessions and her guns, and boards a train for Central.
—-
During her first week in Central, Riza doesn't see Mustang at all, although he's set up an apartment for her. He calls to confirm her safe arrival, but he seems...distracted on the phone. He spends long hours at the office, and she spends her time setting up the tiny apartment and cautiously exploring the city. It's different than anything she's known before to live in such a big place, but she thinks she likes it. There's museums, parks, and the most incredible library she's ever seen.
By the time Thursday rolls around, she starts to feel ... .unmoored, sitting alone in her new apartment, trying to read the new mystery novel she's checked out from the library. She reads the first chapter three times, unable to absorb the details. She keeps asking herself the same questions, but the answer is simple. He called, she came. She trusts Roy Mustang.
He's hinted that he has a plan for her here in Central, that she will play a role in his ascent to power, but what could that role be, and why does he want her to leave the military?
When the phone rings she answers at the first tone.
"Hawkeye," she says tersely.
"Sergeant. Hello. It's Major Mustang." Her heartbeat stutters. His voice is different than it was in Ishbal. There, he sounded constantly hoarse, a deep rattling rumble, but now his voice is smooth and rich. It's the voice of the young man she fell in love with at Hawkeye Estate. She's not here for his voice or him, she reminds herself firmly. He has a plan and a mission that she wants to be a part of. She pinches the bridge of her nose, trying to focus.
"Hello, Sir." Her paperwork hasn't been processed so technically he is still a superior officer.
"I have a question for you."
"Okay."
"May I have the honor of your company for dinner tomorrow evening?" he asks.
Riza hesitates. The way he's asking makes it sound almost like…a date? She wonders about his "playboy" reputation. Surely he doesn't expect her to be another link in the chain again? Or is he sincerely still interested in her? Is this just a cover, a reason for them to meet in public to discuss his plans? She supposes she'll never find out if she doesn't accept his invitation.
"Yes."
—-
Riza is not usually the type of woman to obsess over a date. Then again, she's never actually been on a date before so perhaps she can allow herself a bit of leeway.
Or, at least that's what Riza tells herself as she stands in her apartment on Friday evening, fresh from the shower and still wearing a towel. Roy is due to pick her up in fifteen minutes, and she has yet to choose an outfit. Riza hasn't worn civilian clothes very often in her adult life, and the pieces she has are mostly casual. She doesn't own anything elegant enough for a fancy restaurant or a play with the upper class society- things she's seen pictures of him doing with other women.
She hopes that Mustang won't try to impress her with that kind of soiree, if by some minor miracle this is actually a date. But it can't be…can it?
Riza shakes her head. Her anxious musings don't solve her wardrobe problem. She doesn't have a large wardrobe of clothing to begin with, and many of her things are still being shipped from Western. This leaves her with two possible options. She wants to look nice, and she chews her lower lip as she contemplates the two ensembles laid out on her bed.
The one on the right is a comfortable, familiar option for her. It consists of a plain cotton ankle-length skirt in dark blue, which Rebecca told her compliments the cream-colored sweater she's paired with it.
The outfit on the left is out of Riza's comfort zone. The dress originally belonged to her mother, but Riza has never worn it. She isn't sure why she took it from the house when she left, but it feels special. Now she isn't even sure if it fits. Riza sighs and pulls the garment over her head.
The dress is made of a rich, forest green silk, which flows around her womanly curves. It is trimmed in satin of a slightly darker shade of green. The square, scooped neckline falls just slightly lower than Riza is accustomed to- though still well within the realms of propriety- and the hem hits her right at the knee.
Riza quickly grabs her gold and emerald necklace- another hand-me-down from her mother that she managed to hide away once Father started selling things to make ends' meet. It matches the gold pendant on the belt of the dress as though they were made for one another. Riza slips into a pair of brown leather flats and studies her appearance, arching a brow.
There is nothing she can really do with her hair. She crinkles her nose.
She doesn't wear any makeup, because it isn't her custom. She thinks that she looks fine the way she is, so she simply never learned, even when Rebecca insisted on teaching her how to apply.
Riza turns around in front of her mirror, straining to see if her tattoo is covered by the dress. It barely covers the red lines of the burn marks, which makes her nervous. She's unused to feeling a breeze about her lower legs after so long spent in military fatigues. The dress hugs the curves of her body, emphasizing a shape her uniform is meant to hide. The girl in the mirror is…pretty, attractive even. She barely recognizes herself.
Suddenly it's too short, too tight, too…utterly alien.
Just as she decides to wear her other outfit, a knock sounds at the door.
"Damn," she mutters.
Not wanting to keep him waiting, she walks through to her living room and opens the front door.
Riza can't help but to smile. Roy stands before her, wearing a white button-down shirt and tan slacks- no tie, collar open- with his sleeves rolled up to just below his elbows. She can almost swear she's fallen back in time, and he's driven up the dirt road to pick her up from the front stoop of Hawkeye Manor. A single red rose is clutched in his hand.
"Good evening," he smiles, leaning forward to kiss her cheek.
Riza's heart flutters at the small show of affection before stepping aside to allow him into the apartment.
"Good evening, Sir," she says.
"Don't call me 'Sir,'" Roy requests with a slight frown. "You don't work for me."
"Alright," Riza replies, nodding, annoyed by her nerves.
"This is for you," he smiles again, holding out the red rose to her.
"Thank you," Riza says softly, lifting it to her nose to sniff the flower's fragrance. She tugs absently at the hem of her dress. "You're a bit early," she says. "I was just about to change. Do you mind waiting?"
"Don't change," Roy says, catching her hand. "You're stunning as you are."
Riza blushes.
"You've turned into a charmer," she accuses, trying to keep her tone light. She knows she can't take his flirting seriously, but she can't ignore the way it makes her feel, either. The soldier she's been for the past four years fades to the background, and the girl she was at Hawkeye Manor steps forward.
He grins and offers her his arm.
"Shall we?"
—-
Riza needn't have worried about Roy's attempts to impress her that evening. They have a lovely dinner at a simple neighborhood restaurant and take a long walk under the moonlight in the park afterwards. She needn't have worried, either, about things having changed between them. She finds that they can carry on a conversation now as easily as when they were teenagers.
She waits all evening for him to broach the topic of whatever kind of apparently clandestine work he wants her to do, but he never does, and she doesn't know how to bring it up.
It's late when they finally arrive back at Riza's apartment. Roy walks her to her door, and she unlocks it and turns back to him, wondering what he'll do next.
If she invites him in, will he tell her, finally, what he wants from her? Is it all about his plan to change Amestris, or is…? A tingle sweeps through Riza's body as hope flares. "I had a lovely time with you tonight," she says, smiling and looking up into his dark eyes.
"I'm glad that you agreed to come," Roy replies, also smiling. He looks down at her hand, then gently takes it in his own, lacing their fingers together. She steps closer to him, prepared to ask if he wants to come inside, but Roy speaks first.
"Riza." Her name, spoken softly, sighs over her like a gentle lullaby. "May I kiss you goodnight?"
She's bizarrely touched at the sentiment. After everything they have been through together, after taking her virginity, after the heat and passion of the Ishballan Desert, he still asks her permission to kiss her…on their first date?
"Of course," she says softly, closing her eyes and leaning forward.
Roy touches his lips to hers. The kiss ends too quickly, and Roy can't seem to resist placing his hand on the small of her back and pulling her closer for another tender kiss.
This time Riza deepens the kiss, lifting her hand to cup his cheek. Roy leans his forehead against hers as the kiss breaks. He smiles and looks down into her eyes.
"Goodnight, Ria," he says, finally pulling away.
Riza can't help the words that tumble from her mouth.
"You don't have to leave. I know I'm not the kind of woman you've been with, in the last year, and I don't know what this is, what we're doing, but I-." She breaks off, swallowing hard. "I want… what we had before." She gives a dry chuckle. "Maybe I'm not so good in bed, but I'm willing to learn."
Roy splutters, seeming shocked by her statement, and he instantly pulls her back into his arms, pressing her to his chest.
"First of all, the only reason I'm not coming in tonight is because I'm trying to be a gentleman, even though it's killing me. Second, I want to know what exactly you've heard and from whom, because I need to know who to fire. Third." He pauses, tightening his arms around her, and the bands of tension weaving through Riza begin to ease. "You are the best I've ever had. No contest."
Riza rests her head against his chest, surprised. She feels foolish, but finally the words come, and she looks up at him, smiling softly.
"First of all," she begins, and she sees his lips twist in a slight smirk as she mirrors his words. "It means a lot to me that you want to make tonight special, and I really appreciate it. Second, I'm starting to get the feeling you wouldn't believe half the rumors that circulate about you. Third, as much as I appreciate you trying to be a gentleman for me, I gave myself to you when I was eighteen, and the way I feel about you hasn't changed since then."
She pauses, hesitating.
His arms around her feel so good. His demeanor all night has been so natural and comfortable. The familiar ache of desire she has felt for this man in every tender thought and every fantasy opens up inside her once more, and she plunges recklessly forward.
"I'm…still yours if you still want me."
Roy's lips collide with hers in answer, making her groan aloud into his mouth. Riza gropes for the door handle and wrenches it open, stumbling backwards. Roy catches her up in his arms, kissing her again and grinning.
"Which way is the bedroom?"
Riza laughs, then shakes her head, groaning with frustration.
"God, Roy, what are we doing?"
"Don't think. Just feel," he says, kissing her again. She leads him towards her bedroom. She quickly sweeps the clothes she didn't wear to the floor and begins to undress.
"Slow down," Roy murmurs, pacing closer and reaching for her. "Let me."
It strikes her then that Roy has never really undressed her, and she flushes.
His hands slide from her shoulders down to her waist, leaving goosebumps in their wake. He reaches behind her and slowly drags down the zipper of her dress. His fingers brush against the tender burn on her shoulder, and Riza shudders. Roy freezes.
"It's okay. You didn't hurt me," Riza says quietly, reaching to cup his cheek in her hand.
"Yeah, I did," he mumbles.
"Well, not just now you didn't. It… felt sort of good." She chews her bottom lip, admitting this.
Roy kisses her again, letting the dress fall between them and reaching to unclasp her bra. With aching gentleness, his hands sweep over her bare back, eliciting more shivers and a quiet whine of pleasure.
"How is it?" Roy asks quietly, still touching her. She gives a little shrug.
"It still hurts sometimes. There's…nerve damage, tingling sensations. It's basically healed, possibly as good as it's going to get."
Roy gulps, his hands falling to his sides, his gaze to the floor.
"I'm so sor-."
She cuts him off.
"Don't. Don't apologize for it, please. Let's not talk about it. I don't want to talk about it." She grabs at his shoulders and leans into him. She feels him take in a ragged breath, then press a kiss to the top of her head, his arms returning to hold her tightly.
"Okay," he says. "Just- do you want me not to-to touch it or look or…?" She shakes her head.
"It, um, it actually felt good, when you touched it just now," she admits. "And I don't want to hide from you." She turns, stepping out of the pool of her green dress at her feet.
Roy traces the marks with his fingers. She tingles from head to toe, white waves of sensation criss-crossing over her body. She pulls in a rasping breath, the weight of the moment heavy between them. When Roy presses his lips gently to the larger scar at her left shoulder, Riza moans. She continues to shiver as he trails kisses all across her back and shoulders
Then he pulls her into his arms and lays back with her in her bed. Riza lays folded in his arms, sated and comfortable for a long while before Roy speaks.
"So, what exactly did you hear about me before coming here?" he asks. Riza turns to look at him.
"Mostly that you are a terrible lecher who enjoys getting women into your bed and then leaving them cold and alone in the morning. That and that the title "Hero of Ishbal" has gone to your head and given you an ego that makes you insufferable." Roy's face falls, and she quickly continues. "Don't worry, though," she grins, "I always knew the ego part was a lie, because you've been insufferably arrogant since you were twelve."
Roy tickles her lightly in revenge for a moment, eliciting a laugh from Riza as she wriggles out of his arms. Still grinning, she lays down on her stomach hugging one of her pillows, her head turned to face him.
"Now, you tell me. Why did you bring me to Central? What are we doing, Roy?"
Roy seems lost in thought for a moment, then answers slowly.
"I wish I could tell you that all of what you heard was lies," he says, looking back at Riza. Suddenly, a veil between them lifts, and she can see pain in his eyes. The arrogance of the flashy young man splashed across the newspapers is a front to hide what's deep and raw inside him. Roy is human- human and broken- just as she is.
"Roy," she says softly. He bows his head.
"I have slept around," Roy says bluntly. "I wish I could take it back, now that you're here in my life again, but I can't do that. I'm not a cheat, though, Riza, and now that I have you, I intend for you to be my only partner. If you'll have me?" It feels to her almost an afterthought that he asks at all.
"Of course I will," Riza smiles, leaning in to kiss him.
"I should go, though," Roy says softly as they break apart.
"What? Why?" Riza asks, her brows scrunching together.
Roy pulls back the sheet, stands, and starts to dress.
"It's the optics," he admits. "I didn't notice any press tonight, and that's why I was careful about where we chose to go. But I don't want to be seen leaving your apartment in the morning. For now, until we've had a chance to get you in the public eye, it's better if they get wind of anything if it seems like another one-night stand." He shrugs. "It's the politics."
"I've never known you to be interested in politics," Riza says, surprised. "Roy, what's going on?" He still hasn't told her what she's doing in Central.
"Yeah, well, there's a lot about me that's changed for the better in the last year. Hell, I think I lost a button." He frowns at his shirt, and Riza can't help but laugh.
He shrugs, then leans down to kiss her softly again.
"Will you have dinner with me again tomorrow? My friends Maes and Gracia wanted me to invite you if things went well tonight."
"Major Hughes?" Roy nods. "I'd love to, but what-" Roy kisses her one more time, and Riza starts to get up.
"Don't worry, I'll lock up behind me," Roy insists, placing a hand on her shoulder.
"Roy, wait."
"I have to go, Riza. I'm sorry. We'll talk more tomorrow. I'll pick you up." He leaves, but a moment later he's back, poking his head around the bedroom door.
"Riza?"
She hums.
"I love you."
Her soft smile suffuses the night.
"I love you, too."