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fullmetalscullyy · 3 years

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the way it was - chapter 41

summary: what if riza never went to war? riza hawkeye has just married the man she loves. six months into their marriage, an unexpected surprise stops her from following roy to the military. a canon divergence au that explores what might have happened had riza been unable to join the military. there will be plenty of family fluff, angst, and royai.

rated: m | warnings: graphic depictions of violence (updated)

read on ao3

1915

and i’ll see you in the high and low

in the high and low i’ll find you

“Are you ready?”

“Hm?” Roy’s head turned towards her. She’d broken him out of his thoughts. His expression had been miles away as he sat on the edge of his hospital bed in quiet contemplation. Riza was curious about what had taken up so much of his attention but didn’t enquire. If he wanted to share, he would.

“I asked if you were ready to go,” she explained softly.

“Oh, yes.” Roy straightened his spine and placed both hands flat on his thighs. “I’m ready.”

Riza took his hand in hers and angled her body so they were walking side by side. Her other hand rose to grasp his elbow, cradling it within her palm.

“Thank you,” Roy smiled. He gave her hand a tiny nudge with his elbow.

“It’s no problem, Roy. You know that.”

“I know, but you’ve helped me so much and without complaint.”

Riza laughed to herself. “I’m happy to help.”

“How is your neck? And your shoulder? Let me know if you need to stop or sit down.”

“They’re fine, Roy. There’s no pain. And I will, don’t worry.”

Yesterday while they’d been on their first walk out of their room Riza had a sudden bout of light-headedness. They’d been on their way to a payphone to finally call Chris, after a few days of no contact. Breda had appointed himself their liaison and provided her with an update on their current situation, as both Roy and Riza had been on bedrest since their arrival. They were itching to speak to her, and possibly speak to Mia, but it hadn’t come to pass. On their way there Riza had clumsily fallen into a chair as her vision blurred into a solid grey colour, letting go of Roy and frightening him with her abrupt silence. The feeling had passed over her in a slow wave as she clutched at her forehead. It was painless but disorientating. While Roy had frantically called her name, a nurse found them and recognised Riza’s signs. She placated Roy with a quick explanation as Riza was unable to do it herself. All of her focus was on breathing and not passing out, so was unable to formulate any kind of sentence. They both were promptly whisked back to their room after that and it seemed Roy wouldn’t be quick to forget about that incident.

She’d lost a lot of blood, so her body was still trying to recover it, the doctor had explained. Riza started to worry she may be kept in longer than Roy. Of course, she was concerned for herself and her own wellbeing. The sooner she recovered, the sooner her children could come home to her. But, if Roy was discharged by himself… Their home wasn’t equipped for housing someone who was blind. She had to get things organised, rearrange rooms, create paths for him…

And then there was their children to think about as well. She couldn’t take care of them while being so weak. Thankfully, they were still in Xing with Chris and the girls. Riza would love for them to come home, but it wasn’t feasible or practical. If they did they’d have to stay with Chris and both parents knew Mia would be wondering where they were. She’d be constantly asking after them. To save her any worry and stress, they agreed, if it was all right with Chris, to keep them both in Xing until they left the hospital. It saved them giving an explanation to a child who was too young to understand properly what had happened to them.

Breda confirmed Chris had agreed to that plan. She’d been thinking the same thing too. Riza was grateful to have one weight lifted off her mind, but all those thoughts and worries were still threatening to give her a headache.

“What are you thinking about?” Roy’s expression was one of concentration, as if he were listening to something intently. However, she hadn’t said a word or uttered a sound.

One thing that did strike Riza was he could still pick up on a shift in her mood. It may not be the same as before, but it made her smile to know there was still some sort of connection between them.

But that smile quickly fell.

“The future,” Riza replied.

Roy patted her arm in sympathy and understanding. He kept it there too, which was a comfort. He was supporting her, as she was doing the same to him.

“I was thinking about when we’ll be discharged,” she elaborated further. “About whether or not we’ll leave at the same time, or if one of us will go first.”

“I was wondering that too,” Roy admitted. “The doctors are pleased with your progress, but you lost a lot of blood and –” He cut himself off for a moment, swallowing thickly as he stumbled over the memory of their time in the tunnels. “And you need time to recover. It’s a large wound, they tell me.” The pressure on her forearm increased. “They need to keep you in for further observation to ensure it doesn’t get infected.”

Riza knew all of this already but reasoned if it helped Roy to find some semblance of peace to go through everything aloud then she wouldn’t take that away from him.

“My hands are still pretty bad too,” he added. “The surgery went well but there was a lot of damage. I need to be kept in for them, not to mention for rehabilitation as well.”

“I just don’t want you to be sent home without me,” she admitted quietly.

“I know. I don’t particularly want to go home by myself either.” He chuckled to himself, “I would be a walking hazard without you.”

She appreciated his attempt to lighten the mood, however, the worry still weighed heavily on her mind.

“I don’t think they would let me leave without some kind of system of care in place though,” Roy mused.

“Once your hands are better you’ll need to start practicing with your cane.”

He pouted playfully. “But you’re a much preferable guide.”

Riza smirked. “Unfortunately, I can’t be with you every minute of every day.”

Roy hummed. “I don’t know, that does sound pretty wonderful to me.”

“You know what I mean,” she scolded lightly, but let out a light laugh.

“I know, love,” he reassured with a smile. “How do you feel about us potentially training Hayate to help me out around the house?”

Riza bit her lip. “That’s a lot to put on him.”

“I don’t mean full-time. It was mostly for helping me move around.”

“He’s not trained for that though,” she argued.

“It was just a thought.” He lifted a hand in surrender. “Obviously if you’re not happy with it then we won’t. My only thought was he’s such a good dog already and can listen very well. He’s so attentive. He’d probably work very well as a service dog.”

“With the correct training from the correct people, he probably would, yes.”

“I don’t think it would work out anyway,” Roy sighed heavily.

“Why the sudden change of heart?” She was confused.

“Can you imagine me trying to take Mia’s best friend away from her?”

Riza snorted lightly. “They are inseparable,” she agreed.

“No, I couldn’t tear those two apart. That wouldn’t be fair. Who knows,” Roy shrugged, “it may come naturally to us. Anyway, we’ll cross that bridge when we come to it. I can ask for an update and a time estimate from the doctors this afternoon. That may put our minds at rest a little?”

“I think that’s a good idea,” Riza nodded. “It would be nice to know some kind of timeframe, if possible, and find out what we have to work with.”

“And we won’t be without help. The team has already discussed this scenario too, apparently.”

Riza cocked her head towards him in surprise.

“If I was to be discharged first, they offered their assistance at home. Rebecca did too. Although,” Roy smirked, “I think she only wants to make sure I don’t destroy the place on your behalf,” he quipped.

“They really offered?”

Roy nodded. “They’re happy to help out.”

Riza was touched. A fond smile spread across her face as she thought of the men who’d devoted their lives to her husband. She knew they were close but hadn’t realised that would extend to outside their work lives as well. Riza didn’t know why though, she suddenly thought. They already thought of themselves as unofficial uncles to Mia, and now to Maes as well. They’d also already offered such assistance to her when Roy was in the hospital last year. After that realisation, Riza supposed it would be a natural progression. Her smile grew wider.

“They’re a good group of people.”

Roy hummed in agreement. “The best group of people.”

They continued on their walk and reached their destination, a payphone.

“We’re here.”

“Trip number two was a success,” he beamed.

“It was, thankfully,” Riza chuckled. She guided Roy over to a chair beside the phone and sat him down. Rebecca had brought her purse in from home, so Riza rummaged around within for the spare change she needed to make the call.

The phone rang four times before someone answered.

“Hello?” The gruff voice on the other side of the line made Riza smile immediately. It was a welcome sound and a voice she’d missed hearing.

“Chris? It’s Riza.”

She didn’t speak until after a short pause. “Riza?” Before she could open her mouth to confirm, Chris called Vanessa’s name, Riza assumed over her shoulder, holding the receiver away. “Good to finally hear from you, Riza.

“I know. Sorry it’s been a while.”

Chris scoffed. “No need to apologise for that. Breda has kept me up to date. How are you doing?”

We’re okay.” She glanced over at Roy who was trying to listen in to their conversation. “A little beat up, but all right.”

“Beat up?” Her question was short and sharp.

Perhaps Breda hadn’t shared some of the finer details with Chris.

“Yes. I sustained some injuries, but they’re being treated. We’re calling from the hospital.”

“And Roy? How’s he?”

Breda definitely hadn’t shared all of the details.

“Lieutenant Breda only really told me you were alive and would be all right,” Chris continued.

Riza could appreciate that. How does one stranger tell another that their son was now blind and their daughter-in-law suffered life threatening injuries?

She glanced over at Roy, noticing how his lips were pressed into a thin line. He gestured for the phone. It was time for him to break the news of his new condition.

“He wants to tell you himself,” she replied carefully.

Chris was quiet for a second. “All right.” Her words were sombre as she spoke.

“Hi, Chris,” Roy greeted.

Riza silently remained by his side. She placed a hand atop his head as he informed his mother that he was now blind and what had happened to his hands. Her fingers ran through his hair, playing with his dark tresses to try comfort and soothe him.

“Yeah… We won.”

A proud smile spread across Riza’s face as Roy broke their other news.

A chuckle left him as Chris spoke again. “I know, I know,” Roy relented. “There’s a long way to go yet, but yes, we did it. The plan succeeded.”

They spoke back and forth for a few more moments before Roy paused.

“Mia?” Roy’s head turned towards Riza’s body, facing into her stomach. Her fingers froze in his hair as she spotted his expectant look. Riza’s heart leapt into her throat. “Yes, please. If you could put her on.”

There was a sudden movement that disrupted Riza from her thoughts. Roy had felt out the chair next to him and slid over. The one he’d vacated was offered to Riza, and she took it immediately. The cord of the phone was long enough so they could sit with their heads together and place the phone in between them, letting both parents speak to their daughter.

The other line was quiet. Riza held her breath and waited. There was some shuffling then they heard Mia speak in a quiet voice, sounding far away.

“Mia?” Riza’s voice caught in her throat as she spoke her daughter’s name with so much hope and excitement. She was almost overwhelmed with how much she missed her children and couldn’t wait to hear her voice again.

“Mummy?”

Relief like no other flowed through Riza’s veins. She relaxed completely into her chair with her elation. “Mia, hi. It’s Mum. Dad’s here too.”

“Hey, Mia,” he greeted. Roy’s voice sounded thick as he spoke but there was the widest grin on his face.

“Hi!” Her reply was bright and excited, nothing like the shy, tentative tone she’d used to first greet them. “I miss you!”

“I know, sweetie. I know, we miss you too. So much.”

“It’s been a long time since we talked, but Grandma said that’s okay because it means I would have a lot more to tell you when you phoned, and we could talk for longer!”

Both parents laughed together. Riza’s eyes closed as she leaned her head against Roy’s. His arm wrapped around her shoulders tightly.

“We could talk to you forever, Mia,” Roy replied, “and we’d be more than happy to do it. How are you?”

“I’m okay! I’ve been having lots of fun.”

“That’s great,” Roy exclaimed. “I’m so happy that you have.”

“We’ve done loads since we last spoke! We’ve been to the park near the hotel almost every day. We’ve been to Xingese temples too which were so pretty! I want to go back but Grandma says we’ve got lots of other things to visit first before we can –”

Mia went on and on, regaling them of things she’d done since they last spoke. Both parents relaxed against one another, content and happy to let her speak and listen to all of her adventures. Riza had missed hearing about them.

“When will we get to come home?”

“We don’t know yet, Mia,” Riza answered after a brief pause. “You sound like you’re having too much fun to come home,” she quipped.

“I am, but I miss you! Maes does too. And I miss Hayate.”

Riza felt a pang in her chest. “I know you do. We miss you both terribly as well. But, if you hand the phone back to Grandma we can talk about when you might be able to?”

“Okay! She’s right here.”

“Goodbye, Mia Bear. I love you,” Riza added.

“Love you,” Roy chimed in, eager to say it himself.

“Love you too. Bye!”

Riza exhaled and tipped her head back. Roy gave her shoulders a quick squeeze, understanding every emotion she was currently going through, as he was experiencing the same. It was such a relief to hear Mia’s voice again after so long and to know she was happy, healthy, and okay.

“She’s a little whirlwind,” Chris remarked with a chuckle.

“Thank you for giving her the phone,” Roy replied.

“Of course, Roy Boy,” she dismissed, as if it were obvious she was going to do it in the first place. “Plus, she’s been pestering me non-stop for another chance to speak to you both,” Chris chuckled. “She’s taken it well though. There’s not been too many complaints.”

“What do you mean?” Roy was instantly alert. Riza shot him a worried look. He looked similar to how she felt. Was Mia doing okay?

“Relax,” Chris soothed in her gravelly voice. “She’s been fine. She’s a good and patient kid. Very understanding too. She’s missed you, that’s all. A typical kid thing.”

Roy exhaled in relief.

“When do you think you’ll be out of there?”

“We don’t know. I’m going to ask for an estimate this afternoon on when they think we’ll be discharged. Obviously with my blindness we’ll need to figure out the house first and then come up with some kind of plan to tell Mia…” Roy trailed off, realising that it may be even longer before they see their children.

“Don’t worry about a thing,” Chris announced firmly. “We’ve got more than enough to do over here to keep the kids occupied. You two focus on making yourselves better, all right? The more you do, the sooner they can come home. Let me know what the doctors say though, then we can take it from there.”

“Okay,” Roy exhaled. His shoulders settled and Roy nodded like all his fears had been alleviated somewhat. Chris’ support was extremely helpful and meant a lot as they tried to adjust to their lives now. “Thank you.”

“Don’t mention it, kid. We’ll get everything figured out and I’ll bring them back to you as soon as I can. Take care of yourselves.” The last part was almost a warning.

“We will. You too. And thank you, Chris.”

They shared a quick goodbye and hung up. Their walk back to the hospital room was quiet as they contemplated their conversation with Chris and Mia. It had been so lovely to hear their voices again. It had been too long, but there wasn’t much they could do about that. The important thing was it had happened, and they’d been able to speak with their daughter.

Once back in the room, Riza had finished helping Roy get settled when there was a knock at the door.

“Sir?”

“Come in, Fuery,” Roy beckoned.

His head popped around the door. He held onto it as he looked inside the room but didn’t take a step further inside. “Sir… Doctor Marcoh has just contacted us.” Fuery shifted and his expression turned hopeful for a second. “He has… a proposition for you. Regarding your eyes.”

Riza’s eyebrows lifted towards her hairline but Fuery didn’t let on anything further. Roy went still as he processed what Fuery had said.

“The stone?” His voice was low, almost reverent. Riza wasn’t sure what they were referring to, however from the way Roy spoke she could discern there was some gravity behind his words.

Fuery nodded. “Yes. He’s on his way in just now and wishes to speak to you, if that’s all right?”

“Yes, of course. Bring him in once he’s arrived.”

“Of course, sir.” Fuery left them in silence, closing the door quietly behind him.

“The stone,” Riza echoed, looking for further clarification.

Roy paused but then nodded. “Yes. It’s… Well, it may be a way for me to get my sight back.”

* * * * * * * * * * *

“Colonel? Riza?”

Riza looked up from the book on her lap as Breda’s head poked through the door.

“Oh.” Breda lowered his voice suddenly. “I didn’t realise he was asleep. Sorry,” he cringed.

She shot him a smile to placate any worry. “It’s okay,” Riza replied softly. She marked her place in the book with a finger so as not to lose it. “What’s up Breda?”

“Doctor Marcoh has arrived.”

Riza inhaled and nodded, understanding what that announcement meant. Roy would be getting his eyesight back today.

They’d spoken with Doctor Marcoh last week about using the stone. It was decided Havoc would be healed first, then Roy. They had to wait for him to arrive in Central, but Havoc’s procedure to return his ability to walk had been a success a few days ago. He was currently being monitored a few rooms down from them. Now, the Philosopher’s Stone would be used to give Roy his eyesight back.

“I understand,” she replied to Breda. “Thank you for letting us know.”

“There’s also someone else,” he interjected. “General Grumman has come for a visit. He’d like to visit as soon as possible if that’s all right with you both.”

That surprised Riza, however, it made sense if Grumman had been a mentor to Roy for years prior to their move to Central.

“Thank you, Breda. Can you give us ten minutes then send General Grumman in?”

“Will do.”

The door closed quietly behind him and Riza sighed as she stared down at her husband’s sleeping face.

In hospital Riza hadn’t needed to worry too much about Roy’s movements around the room without aid. It was mostly bare, aside from a chair and two beds, so the space was large enough to manoeuvre himself around safely. Regardless of that fact, Riza was always by his side to assist when needed. With the injuries on his hands, he’d been unable to hold a walking cane, but he was improving every day. However, she couldn’t help but run through plans in her mind for what would happen when they returned home. She’d need to reorganise and repurpose rooms. There would need to be clear pathways throughout their home which Roy could use and not hurt himself. Mia and Maes’ toys would need to be moved and placed in designated areas. They didn’t need him tripping over a stray soft bear or sliding on a forgotten pencil. Riza hadn’t had a chance to think about how they’d even begin to tell Mia that their father was blind. Now… She may not have to.

It was a bizarre concept, being able to cure the incurable so easily. She’d been made aware of what went into the Philosopher Stone and it set her on edge. It wasn’t right and Riza could never look at the stone for too long as it made her uncomfortable. However, it was Roy’s decision to use it. He didn’t like the thought of using the stone any more than she did, but it would restart him on a path they thought was lost to him. He’d still be able to remain in the military and work towards what he’d always wanted to do. And Roy was determined;. mMore than determined. As soon as the possibility had been planted inside his mind Riza could see him seriously considering it. Not much would turn him away from the prospect.

Ultimately, using the stone was on his conscience, not hers. But Roy’s was bearing the weight of so much already… However, it was his choice. He had plans, goals, ambitions… All to better this country and stop history from repeating itself. The stone would help, but was the moral cost worth it for him?

“Whatever it takes,” he’d informed her. His tone was determined, but there was a glimmer of grim acceptance in there too.

Riza reached over to gently place her hand on top of Roy’s in the bed. Her thumb swiped over the back of it as she tried to coax him awake. She’d decided sitting by Roy’s bedside in a chair rather than remaining in her own bed was easier to talk to the room and to him. In her own bed she was constantly twisting and turning her head and that was not the best course of action currently.

“Roy?”

He grunted softly in reply, stirring from his slumber.

“Roy, time to wake up.”

A feeble moan left him. His eyes opened briefly but fluttered closed as he quietly sighed and gave into the hold sleep still had on him.

“Roy.” Riza laughed quietly at his sleepy expression. She gave his fingers a gentle squeeze. “Doctor Marcoh is here to see you.”

She let that news sink in slowly and eventually he sighed. His eyes batted open groggily. “Okay, I’m up,” he grumbled.

“Did you sleep well?”

His head turned in her direction and he smiled. “I did. I didn’t even realise that I had.”

“You were pretty out of it,” Riza added.

“Your voice is so soothing and comforting to listen to, that’s why,” he grinned as Riza’s cheeks heated up slightly. “Did you keep reading ahead?”

“After you fell asleep I stopped reading aloud and continued on. It’s a good story. I like it.”

“I like it too. I like hearing you read it to me.”

“I can go back,” Riza revealed. “I marked where we finished together. I wouldn’t want you to miss the rest of the story.”

“You’re too good to me.”

Riza stood from her chair and slowly approached him. She placed a hand on his forearm, her touch feather light before increasing the pressure. A finger tapped his skin three times. Recognising her signal Roy inhaled in anticipation. Ever so softly she pressed her lips against his.

She hadn’t wanted to potentially frighten him with sudden touches after the Promised Day. Not while he was blind and not after the beating he’d received at the hands of Father while blind either. Riza had picked up on the fact he jumped whenever someone placed a hand on him without announcing themselves, so she’d come up with a code. With coded messages, they used two taps. With three taps, she announced she would be coming in for a kiss. All of her touches were soft, and she always made sure to announce herself with her voice before initiating contact.

“I love you, Roy.”

He stole another kiss with a grin. “Love you too.”

“Not only is Doctor Marcoh here, but General Grumman is as well. I’ve asked Breda to send him in shortly.”

Roy’s body stilled. “General Grumman?”

“I don’t know why,” Riza shook her head. “Breda only told me he was here to see you.”

With a sigh Roy sat up on his bed. He groaned and grimaced as the movement hit some of his aches and pains. Enough time had passed that their muscles had recovered, but there were still some bruises and stiffness.

Riza’s hand never moved from Roy’s forearm and she slid it slowly up his arm to give him some comfort. Her own injuries were much better. The strength of her painkillers had been reduced dramatically and the injuries were healing nicely. The skin around the one on her neck was pink and healthy, while the one on her shoulder was starting to heal over.

“I suppose I better make myself presentable for the General,” Roy grumbled.

Riza nodded and her hand slid away from his body.

While Roy rubbed his eyes tiredly Riza was struck with how similar he looked to Mia when she awoke in the morning. After their conversation on the phone Riza had made a point to call Chris every day. She couldn’t go that long again without speaking to Mia again. They’d even heard Maes gurgle happily through the receiver. Roy had gently but clumsily wiped away her tears after it. He’d accidentally poked her in the eye, which earned a giggle from them both, cheering Riza up a little. It wasn’t much, but it was enough.

“Colonel,” General Grumman greeted warmly as he entered the room. “Mrs. Mustang.” He bowed his head respectfully towards her.

“General, sir,” Roy welcomed.

“Good day, General,” Riza nodded.

“At ease, Mustang,” Grumman replied, waving Roy off as his hand lifted to salute while sitting up straighter in his bed.

“Understood.”

Riza watched on with interest. It was intriguing to note how much Roy’s voice changed whenever he was talking to a colleague or a superior. It was funny to think about, remembering just how goofy and dorky he could be with her and their family. It was not a bad thing he was acting differently. It was another part of him, and that part had always intrigued and fascinated Riza. She sat back in her chair to observe their conversation quietly.

“How are you doing, Mustang?”

“Well, sir. Just a few aches and pains but nothing major.”

The General lifted an eyebrow in doubt, making Riza wonder if he was already aware of his lost eyesight. She figured that at this point in time it would be common knowledge. Especially to the likes of General Grumman.

“Losing one’s eyesight would be considered major, Colonel.”

“I’m alive,” Roy replied with determination. “That’s enough for me for the moment.”

Riza kept her mouth shut about Doctor Marcoh’s visit. She already felt like she was privy to a conversation she shouldn’t be a part of so let them converse in peace.

“Mrs. Mustang?”

Her head lifted, surprised that the General had anything to say to her.

“If you wouldn’t mind, could I borrow you for a moment?”

Out the corner of her eye, Riza noted how Roy’s brow furrowed in confusion slightly at the request.

“There’s something I wish to discuss with you in private, if that’s all right?”

“Anything you have to say can be said in front of my husband, General,” Riza replied evenly.

In all honesty… She didn’t really want to be left alone with her grandfather. After her sudden phone call and his reaction to it, Riza thought he knew who she was but couldn’t be sure. The question was, did she have the energy to have that family discussion with him? Probably not. Regardless, it was true. She had no secrets to hide from Roy.

Grumman looked stumped for a second before he recovered. “Yes, of course. It’s regarding us.”

Roy tried to hide it but Riza could tell he was becoming even more confused.

“Yes?”

“Our paths have unfortunately never crossed in the past. There were various reasons for that, mostly tied with your parents.”

Roy’s head cocked to the side ever so subtly as he tried to put two and two together.

“I apologise for not coming forward to you sooner. I have my own reasons for that too, but wanted to apologise for not contacting you when I should have.” He looked and sounded sincere enough as he spoke.

“And when would that have been?” Riza was curious as to when he felt he “should” have reached out to her.

“News of your father’s passing reached me months afterwards. I thought that would’ve left you with no one, but I had no way of finding out where you were. Then Mustang breezed in and wouldn’t shut up about his wife and kid,” Grumman chuckled, gesturing towards Roy, who’d gone incredibly still. “And I overheard Lieutenant Catalina on the phone to you and say your name. I caught Mustang showing off a picture of his wife one time and finally recognised you.” He took a deep breath, meeting her gaze. “You look exactly like your mother.”

A lump suddenly formed inside Riza’s throat.

“So, I’ve been aware of you and your tie to Mustang for some time. And I’m sorry for not reaching out sooner.”

“Thank you, sir.” Her reply was even and polite. She held no grudge against this man, but she couldn’t trust him so easily. If he wanted to be a part of her life then he’d have to earn a place in it.

“I hear you have some wonderful children.” He shot her a toothy grin. “Congratulations, Riza. I’m extremely happy for you.”

At the mention of them, Riza’s stomach tightened but slowly loosened. Her expression softened and she nodded. “They are wonderful,” she agreed.

“I expect nothing in return,” Grumman reassured, lifting his hands as if surrendering. “Too much time may have passed, which I completely understand. But since I had the chance, I wanted to see you and speak to you at least once – and properly this time.”

“Thank you for that favour on the Promised Day,” Riza replied. “I really appreciated you trying to get through to Roy.”

“Of course,” he nodded. “It was the least I could do for my granddaughter.”

Finally, Roy clicked. His head had bowed to face the bed in silence but Riza knew his mind was moving a mile a minute, overflowing with questions. He wasn’t the only one, however, Riza had already dwelled on her musings about her grandfather years ago. It brought the questions back up to the surface, but she didn’t have the energy to be angry or upset at him for not contacting her. Like Grumman said, too much time had passed anyway. It was all in the past now.

“I hear Doctor Marcoh is here to see you,” Grumman announced, clearing his throat. “I’ll get going and let him get to work.”

Riza stood and approached her bed without a word. On the table beside it was her purse, which she reached for. Two pictures of their children were extracted from within and Riza turned to face her grandfather.

“Would you like to see your great grandchildren before you leave?”

He looked incredibly surprised by her offer. Riza may not have been able to trust him so easily but he’d reached out to her. He’d made an effort at least. Yes, it was late, and he may have some motive behind this meeting, but Riza would extend him the same courtesy he’d given her. She didn’t entirely trust his motives, but he’d acknowledged they were family and seemed genuine enough while discussing it. The least she could do in return was show him his great grandchildren.

Grumman nodded and Riza walked over to him. She handed the pictures over and heard him gasp. In the corner of his eyes there were tears, but they never fell.

“Mia and Maes,” Riza stated, pointing to each of them.

“They look like wonderful children,” he replied. His tone was respectful but held a hint of awe within it.

“They are,” Riza smiled fondly, gazing down at them.

“Thank you, Mrs. Mustang.” Grumman cleared his throat as he handed the pictures back to her. “I don’t expect anything in return, like I said, but I appreciate you showing these to me.”

Riza nodded and took them back from his outstretched hand.

“If you ever need anything,” he stressed, his sharp eyes meeting hers directly, “anything at all, you can give me a call. All right?”

“Thank you, sir.”

“Please, call me Grumman,” he insisted.

“Thank you, Grumman,” Riza nodded.

“I’ll be on my way. I’ll send Doctor Marcoh in. Take care of yourself, Mustang,” he called over Riza’s shoulder. Then, in a surprising move, he took her hand in his and gave it a gentle squeeze. “You too, dear.”

Once he’d left, Riza returned to the chair by Roy’s bedside.

“He’s your grandfather?”

She wondered what Roy’s reaction would be. It seemed he had no clue about it either. His exclamation was incredulous.

“Yes,” Riza confirmed.

“But… How…” Roy floundered as he tried to find the words he needed. “When did you know?”

“I didn’t know for sure. When we were in Central on our little holiday after Mia was born and the staff announced there was a General Grumman on the phone waiting to speak to you, I made the connection with his name then. I’d never seen him before though. Seeing him now, he’s still the spitting image of the picture I glanced at once when I was a child.”

“…And he never contacted you before now?” Roy’s question had an edge to it. He was mildly affronted on her behalf.

Riza shook his head. “Not to my knowledge.”

“He knew your name,” Roy muttered quietly to himself. “I told him. Not your last name, admittedly, but he’d heard your first name and seen your picture. He even pestered me to marry his granddaughter before he knew I was married to you.” His brow furrowed deeper, his expression darkening. “And he still did nothing?”

Riza shrugged. She didn’t know what to say to him. “He said he had his reasons for that. I don’t know what they could possibly be, nor am I interested to find out.”

Roy fell silent for a few moments. “You don’t trust him, do you?”

“I don’t know him, so no. I wish I could, given he’s my last remaining older family member, but I can’t. I don’t trust his motives either. Not after his actions. Despite his genuine tone, there’s something about him that I can’t put my finger on.”

His head bobbed a few times as he absorbed her statement. “I can’t believe he never contacted you.”

Riza grimaced. “My family history is… tricky. From what I remember of it, anyway. It could be to do with that, however, I never held any grudge towards him. I never really knew him and was too young. My parents cut ties when I was a baby.”

There was a sudden pressure on her hand. Roy had placed his atop hers, covering it with his warmth and comfort.

“If he’s holding onto that feud, or whatever it was, after all this time, then I’m not sure I want to waste my time trying with him. If not…” she trailed off, still unsure. “Anyway,” Riza announced, steering the conversation away from her thoughts. “Sorry to burst your bubble about him.”

Roy snorted and scoffed. “He was the one who taught and encouraged me to always work to serve my own agenda. It doesn’t surprise me he was doing it for himself. I’m more concerned about you, though.” His expression looked slightly anxious. “Are you okay about all of this?”

“Grumman acknowledging my existence doesn’t take away anything from my life, nor does it add to it. I don’t know what I will do, or what I want, regarding a relationship with my grandfather. Quite frankly I don’t really want to consider it right now either. There’s more important things due to happen,” she smiled, “like you getting your eyesight back.”

“I know, but… Well, whatever you decide, I will support you. No matter what.”

Riza smiled at him. She tapped the back of his hand with her finger three times and leaned in to kiss his cheek. “Thank you, Roy.”

“Of course,” he replied simply. “You’re welcome, Riza.”

Their conversation ended there as someone knocked on the door.

“Come in,” Riza called.

Doctor Marcoh poked his head around the door and looked at them expectantly. “Are you ready to begin the procedure, Colonel?”

#royai #royai fic #royai fanfic #royai au #the way it was #emma writes #almost at the end team!!!

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worryinglyinnocent · 3 years

Text

Fic: Forged Through Fire (1/13)

Summary: Amestris. Once democratic, now a military dictatorship. Prohibition is strict; personal freedoms curtailed. All alchemists must be state-licensed or face imprisonment. Foreigners are met with suspicion. It’s a grim place and a grim time, but there are some people able to bring a little light to the world. Behind an innocent-looking bookshop, speakeasy proprietor Chris Mustang has formed an unlikely alliance with unlicensed alchemist Van Hohenheim to provide alcohol to those who want it and medical care to those who need it. When Riza’s newly complete tattoo becomes infected, Roy brings her into this underworld, little knowing the way it will change their lives in the future – uncovering the secrets of the mythical Philosopher’s Stone and the schemes of a Fuhrer hell-bent on achieving immortality, all whilst navigating what they mean to each other.

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Rated: T

[AO3]

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Content warning for this chapter: Domestic abuse – parent on child; parental neglect; mentions of abortion.

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Forged Through Fire

One

From the moment Riza woke up, she knew that it was going to be a bad day. Her back felt like it was on fire, and she wondered if this was how the mannequins that Roy used for target practice felt like once he’d finished with them.

If she was being completely honest with herself then she wasn’t even surprised that this had happened. She’d been expecting it at some point; she was lucky to have made it this far into the process before it had happened.

Or, of course, she was extremely unlucky.

She got out of bed, looking down at the damp patch of sweat staining the sheets. Laundry could wait until she’d assessed the damage. Her nightgown was sticking to her, and she winced as she inched it up over her head, craning over her shoulder to try and see what was going on in the mirror.

As expected, the tattoo was horrifically infected. Considering her father’s penchant for getting the array down on her skin without much thought for anything else, including the cleanliness of his needles, it was only a matter of time before it happened. She reached round and touched the worst-inflamed parts of her skin, the final pieces of the array that he’d added a couple of days ago. The pain brought tears to her eyes and she clamped her jaws tight shut to avoid crying out.

Maybe she could just let the infection run its course and it would be fine. Riza shook her head. She didn’t really have much choice in the matter. It wasn’t like she could go to a doctor. The minute anyone saw the tattoo she’d be thrown in front of a firing squad.

Sometimes she wondered if her father even realised what he’d been condemning her to when he’d started to etch his life’s work onto her so indelibly. She’d known. She’d always known. She’d just never been in a position to contradict him.

Somehow, Riza didn’t think that it had ever crossed his mind. The most important thing in Berthold Hawkeye’s life had always been his research, and he’d always walked the line between the legal and the forbidden, never trusting the government with the full extent of his work.

Like all licensed alchemists, he had dutifully submitted his arrays for recording at the central library and received permission to use them and teach them to others.

The array on Riza’s back, however, had been put there and not on paper for the precise reason that he did not want anyone else to get their hands on it. Never mind that creating arrays and not submitting them for governmental approval was illegal and could carry a death sentence depending on the potency of the alchemy involved. Never mind that even though Riza wasn’t the one to mark her skin and couldn’t see the array to use it, she’d be the one to suffer.

There wasn’t really a lot she could do about it.

Still trying not to cry with the pain, Riza made her way to the bathroom, scrambling through the cabinets for antiseptic. There wasn’t any. Why wasn’t she surprised? At least there were bandages; although she wasn’t sure how much good they would do, they’d be better than nothing.

She heard the knock on the door below her, and then Roy’s voice as her father let him in. Of course this would have to happen on one of the days that Roy was due to come for a session, because her skin couldn’t have seen fit to start trying to kill her on a day when she didn’t have to worry about strangers in the house potentially finding out about the elephant in the room and on her back.

Not that Roy was really a stranger, though. Riza reflected on their strange relationship as she cleaned up and bandaged her back as best she could. They’d been practically living in each other’s pockets for the last two years ever since her father had taken Roy on as an apprentice, begrudgingly accepting that caveat of keeping his state license and finally realising that all the research into flame alchemy in the world would be for nothing if he simply took it with him to his grave.

Riza still didn’t really know what that made them to each other, though. She liked to think that they were friends, although he spent most of his time these days holed up in the study. The more secretive her father had become about the full array, the less time the three of them had spent together in a more social setting; Roy was no longer welcome to stay for dinner, as much as Riza was ever desperate for a conversation partner and someone to deflect her father’s attention onto.

Her father was yelling at her to brew some tea and get breakfast ready, and Riza sighed, trying to adopt as normal a stance as possible, not letting show that something was wrong and that she was in pain. Not that her father would care (although perhaps he would – if her back got really bad then it might ruin his array, after all), but she didn’t want Roy to worry about her.

She downed a couple of painkillers – government issue and barely better than sugar pills but she could hope for a kind of placebo effect – and made her way downstairs to start the day. She could hear Roy and her father arguing over his decision to join the military academy. It was the same argument they had every time. Riza had never questioned Roy’s decision; his life was his own and in a place like a Amestris, the rigid life of the military was ironically the best place to gain a modicum of freedom. If you can’t beat them, join them and all that.

“Riza? Are you ok?”

She jumped at the voice and immediately spun round; she’d been so caught up in her own thoughts that she hadn’t noticed Roy follow her out of the study after she’d collected the tea things.

“I’m fine.”

“Are you sure? There’s blood on your back.”

“What? Shit!” She tried to look over her shoulder, finally catching a glimpse in the shiny metal of the oven door. Sure enough, spots of blood and fluid were seeping through the bandage and onto the back of her shirt.

“Riza?”

For the first time in her life, Riza could only feel utter blind panic.

“I’m fine,” she said quickly. “It’s nothing, I’m fine.”

“Riza, you look like you’re in pain. What happened?”

“Nothing!”

“Are you…”

“MUSTANG!”

Roy rolled his eyes at the summons. “You’re not fine,” he said, with a tone of stern finality that Riza had never heard in his voice before. He turned to leave the room and return to her father, and Riza felt herself sag, leaning back against the oven. Everything had just got so much worse.

Still, at least the cold metal was nice and numbing against her back.

She wasn’t really sure how long she stayed there, back pressed against the oven door and knowing she’d leave a wet smear there when she moved away. She should probably go and hide in her room so that Roy couldn’t question her again when he left, but at the same time, there was something in the back of her mind that wanted to speak to him again.

He was concerned about her. Riza couldn’t remember the last time that someone had been concerned about her, but now that she really thought about it, Roy had always looked out for her ever since he had first come into the house. The small part of her that had not completely given up all hope was nudging her to take the potential lifeline that might have been offered and cling to it. Surely Roy, of all people, would understand. He wouldn’t shop her to the military police if she told him about the tattoo. He knew her father, after all, knew what kind of a man he was even as he continued to learn under him.

She could trust Roy.

She hoped she could trust Roy. Roy trusted her, after all. She was pretty sure her father didn’t know that he’d grown up in a speakeasy and knew more about dodging the law than any nineteen-year-old should.

Perhaps that was part of the reason why he’d chosen to join the military. It was easier to protect the people you loved if you had inside knowledge of when the raids would be going on.

Roy trusted her. Roy knew all about living in less than legal circumstances beyond your control.

She could trust Roy.

Eventually, she could hear the sounds of the day’s session coming to a close, and her father yelling for her to show Roy out. She crept out into the hallway, waiting until he’d vanished back into his study before grabbing Roy and yanking him into the kitchen, barricading the door with a chair for good measure.

“Riza? What’s going on, are you ok?”

She shushed him.

“I need help,” she admitted. “I have no idea how you can help but I’m just hoping you might be able to give me some advice.”

“OK. You’re scaring me a little. And why is the door barricaded?”

“My father.”

“Right. Enough said, sorry. So, how can I help?”

Riza took a deep breath, turned her back and took her shirt off, crossing her arms over her chest even though she knew Roy couldn’t see anything. She heard his sharp intake of breath as he looked at the stark black ink and the wet and bloody bandages.

“Oh my God, Riza… How could he have done this to you?”

“What’s done is done.”

“Riza, I’m not a doctor but this is really bad, you need to see someone.”

“How can I, Roy? It’s an unregistered array, no doctor would touch it with a bargepole, they’ll just call the cops.”

There was silence for a long time, and Riza glanced over her shoulder at him. His brow was furrowed in deep thought, looking down at his spark gloves and the simplified flame array – the legal flame array – dyed into them.

“Please don’t kick up a fuss,” she begged. “If he knows you’ve seen the full array…”

“My lips are sealed, I promise. I think I know how to help you. Can you get out of the house tonight?”

He moved past her towards the fridge and Riza scrambled to put her shirt back on, ignoring the pain as the damp fabric brushed her inflamed skin.

“Have you got anything you can use as a cold compress until then?”

“No.”

“OK, well, try putting a couple of towels in the fridge or something to try and help keep any swelling down. If you can get out tonight, meet me by the phone booth in the park at nine o’clock, I should have got something organised by then.”

Riza nodded her understanding and removed the chair from under the door handle, letting Roy out of the house. Her father would probably have passed out by then, and it wasn’t the first time she’d snuck out after dark for a breath of fresh air and freedom.

She closed her eyes, resting her forehead against the front door with a sigh. If Roy couldn’t come through for her she didn’t know what she’d do, but she trusted that he’d think of something.

She trusted that he cared enough.

“Roy, this is your aunt’s speakeasy. When they said alcohol can be used as a disinfectant, I don’t think they were talking about bathtub moonshine.”

“Madam Christmas does not serve bathtub moonshine. I’ve never pried into where she gets it, but I know it’s not out of a bathtub. Anyway, we’re not here for the alcohol.”

Riza shivered in the cool night air, looking around at the deserted street. There were never many people around after dark. There wasn’t officially a curfew in Central City, but the police presence on the streets always doubled once the sun went down, and people weren’t inclined to hang around. Not that they were inclined to hang around much in the daytime, either. Even just going to the market to get groceries, everyone walked with purpose, eyes down.

“It’s a double front. Aunt Chris rents out a couple of the back rooms to an unlicensed medical alchemist. He’s not the cheapest, but he’s the safest. And he’s kind.”

“I know what that’s code for. Great. Now everyone’s going to think I’m here because I got myself in trouble.”

“Hohenheim does a lot more than that. Actually the thing he does most is stab wounds, as you do. But I won’t deny he does do a lot of that. Is that a problem?”

“Having my illegal alchemy tattoo treated by an illegal abortionist? No, Roy, that won’t be a problem.”

They entered into the quiet bookshop that served as a front for the speakeasy. Officially it was closed, although the lights were still on in the back and there was a girl sitting behind the counter, looking bored out of her mind by the pulp fiction romance novel she was reading. She just nodded at Roy, a regular visitor enough to be trusted without getting the third degree from the doorman, and he went through to the back room, opening the door to the basement and gesturing for Riza to go through.

“After you.”

She’d been in here once, a year ago now. It had been the middle of the day at the time and the bar hadn’t been properly open, just a few die-hard regulars in the corners. It had still been an experience though. Anything that wasn’t the four walls of her house was an experience. Her father had passed out and Roy had invited her to come for a walk with him, and they’d ended up in the speakeasy. She’d just turned seventeen and her father had just started to mark her back, and she’d been feeling rebellious – if I have a tattoo that might get me killed, might as well go to a place that might get me killed too.

Despite everything, including the undercurrent of fear at being caught either by the police or by her father, Riza still felt a certain warmth towards the place. It felt like more than just an illegal bar to her. It felt like a home. Maybe because it had been Roy’s home for so long, and he had seemed so at ease and alive in there.

He wasn’t quite as easy today, but he smiled at her when she looked back over her shoulder at him as they descended the stairs and entered the bar itself. It was busier tonight, in the height of its peak time, and Riza felt extremely self-conscious as Roy guided her through the room, bypassing the bar entirely and going towards the draped off area on the back wall.

He pulled back one of the curtains to reveal a suspiciously ordinary looking door. The door itself wasn’t suspicious, it was a normal wooden door, but there was something about it that made it look out of place, as if it shouldn’t have been there – like it hadn’t been there one moment and had mysteriously appeared the next. Maybe it had. Alchemy could do all kinds of things, after all.

Roy lifted his hand to knock but stopped short and turned to her. “Do you want me to come in with you?”

Riza shook her head. “No. I’ll be ok.” Honestly, she wanted nothing more than for Roy to come in with her, because whilst she definitely trusted him, she wasn’t entirely sure she trusted anyone else in the establishment; but since she was already paranoid about people getting the wrong impression as to why she was visiting an unregistered alchemist, she didn’t want them to think that Roy was the one who had potentially got her into that non-existent state.

That said, no one in the bar seemed to be paying them any mind, all too focussed on their drinks and on each other. They were in an illegal speakeasy after all, so they didn’t have all that much room to judge her.

“Ok. Well, Trisha can always come and grab me if you need me.”

Riza didn’t ask who Trisha was, and Roy left her alone, letting the curtain drop back down behind her and cutting her off from the heavy smell of alcohol and the muffled music.

She knocked timidly.

“Come in.”

Like most average, law-abiding citizens, Riza had never been to an unlicensed doctor or alchemist before, and from the gossip she’d heard flying around about them, she’d been expecting a scene from a horror film.

She was a little taken aback when she entered a clean, well-lit room with a couch covered in crisp white sheets, no sign of bloody surgical tools anywhere. The alchemist was washing his hands in the corner and he turned as she entered.

“Hello. Riza, is it? I’m Hohenheim, pleased to meet you. Roy said something about a skin problem, but he didn’t give me any details.”

Riza nodded. “I have a tattoo on my back, it’s infected.” She paused. “It’s an illegal alchemy array. My father is licensed, but he likes to experiment.”

Hohenheim’s eyebrows shot to his hairline. “On you?”

“No. Well. Not exactly. I’m just the notebook. He needs to write it down and he figured this was more secure than putting it on paper.”

“Hmm.” Although he said nothing more on the subject, there was sympathy in his golden eyes as he gestured to the couch. “If you take your top off and lie down on your front on the couch, I’ll take a look. Are you all right on your own? My wife’s just next door in the dispensary; she’ll happily come in if you would be more comfortable having another lady with you.”

“No, it’s ok.”

He turned his back as she pulled her coat and shirt off, and she saw him twitch as she let out an involuntary hiss of pain.

“I’m ready.”

His hands were warm on her back as he removed the dressings; she’d changed the bandages twice throughout the day, but she didn’t think it had made all that much difference to the infection.

“You’re in a lot of pain.” It was a statement, not a question. “It’s not as bad as it could have been, you managed to catch it early. If you’d left it any longer it might have caused some real damage.”

He draped her coat back over her. “Sit up a moment, I’ll need to draw the array.”

Riza watched as he worked straight onto the sheets with blue tailor chalk, marking out an intricate circle.

“That doesn’t look like alchemy.”

“It’s Xingese alkahestry. Far more widely used for medical purposes than destructive ones and sadly far more illegal in Amestris.”

“You’re from Xing?”

Hohenheim laughed. “No. I just spent a lot of time there.”

He glanced sideways at her and Riza noticed the golden eyes again. He might not be from Xing, but she didn’t think that he was entirely from Amestris either. Eye colour was usually a good indicator.

“Where are you from?”

“Nowhere.” There was sadness in the eyes now. “Lie back down, this won’t take a minute. It might sting a little.”

It was more like an electric shock than a sting, the lightning crackle of alchemy dancing over her skin, but when it was over, there was just blissful, blessed relief.

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” Hohenheim went over to the door in the corner as Riza got dressed again, tapping lightly. “Is it ready, Trisha?”

“Yes, love.” The door opened to reveal a small room barely bigger than a closet, filled from floor to ceiling with shelves of jars and bottles. A young woman wearing an apron came out and pressed a small pot into Riza’s hand.

“It’s a tea-tree salve, a natural antiseptic,” she said. “Rub it in every night before bed for a couple of weeks and everything should clear right up.”

“Thank you so much. How much do I owe you?” She’d raided the housekeeping and the scant savings she kept under her bed; she knew how much medical treatment cost ordinarily, but this was very different.

Hohenheim shook his head. “Roy paid in advance; didn’t he say?”

“Oh. No. Oh. Well. Thank you.”

She left the room, fighting her way through the curtain and out into the main room again. Roy was sitting at the bar waiting for her.

“All sorted?”

Riza nodded. “Yes, thanks.”

“Great. Can I get you a drink to calm your nerves?”

“Roy, she’s only seventeen.” Behind the bar, Madam Christmas gave her nephew a pointed look, before heaving a long sigh. “I guess there’s no legal drinking age in a country where no one’s allowed to drink anyway. Pick your poison, hun, but I’m not serving you spirits.”

Riza shook her head. “If he smells it on me there’ll be hell to pay. I should probably be getting back before he realises I’m out.”

Roy nodded, and the brief flash of sorrowful sympathy in his face did not go unnoticed. He slid off his bar stool, walking through the bar with her.

“I’ll walk you home in case of patrols.”

They didn’t speak for a long time after they left the shop, both of them lost in their thoughts. It was only once they were nearing the Hawkeye home on the outskirts of the town that Riza remembered she hadn’t thanked Roy properly.

“Hohenheim said you paid for my treatment.”

“Yeah.” Roy’s smile was sheepish in the dim moonlight. “I figured it was only fair. It’s not your fault the tattoo you had no say in getting got infected. Why should you have to pay the price for it?”

“Thank you.”

“Any time.”

They stopped at the gate, and Riza knew that if this was a romance novel of the type that the bookshop front sold, now would be the point where they would kiss and declare their undying love for each other.

It wasn’t really undying love, per se, but there was definitely something there, something that Riza could not quite define yet.

Feeling emboldened now that she was no longer in pain, she darted in and pressed a peck to Roy’s cheek. Even in the darkness, she could see the beginnings of colour coming up in his face, and she could feel that hers was just the same.

“Good night, Roy.”

“Good night, Riza.”

#FMA Brotherhood #FMA Fanfiction #Royai #Riza Hawkeye #Roy Mustang #Fic: Forged Through Fire

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kingofthewilderwest · 3 years

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princesstokyomoon replied to your post ... ... ... can we see the list?

kovu was the first crush baby me ever acknowledged i had, so seeing simba on this list is very validating lol

[high fives] Disney made those lions way too hot for their own good. Kovu would probably be on my list if I had watched the second Lion King movie more recently. It’s been a while since I’ve seen it, but I remember being gripped by him when I was younger. So if he magically appears on that list later...... a rewatch happened.

writingstellar replied to your post ... ... ... can we see the list?

-is queer -has a type -that type involves dark hair and eyes ...my dude do you also like them kinda damaged? Because I think we have the same taste lmao

Bruh. Bruh. I wasn’t going to admit it in the tags, but TOTALLY. When they’re damaged is when my heart melts. I relate to their struggles and issues, I yearn to care for them, I feel for them, I love them. [high five on the same taste]

maski1 replied to your post ... ... ... can we see the list?

"Elizabeth Hawkeye" ? I think it was stated her name really is "Riza" ? When I watched ATLA when I was little I didn't like Zuko. Now he's my favorite character XD Gotta watch The Dragon Prince but before, I have to watch TLoK (and before that, read the chapters that were never adaptated). I'm curious, why Aladdin? Linguini is underrated

I started replying to you in the comments of the original post, but you always have such fun conversations, so I had to hop onto here and expand!

1. Regarding how I present the names on my list, I try to give a character’s full name, so long as there is strong evidence-based canon that gives or implies their name. In a few rare cases, like Elizabeth Hawkeye, there are fans who would dispute me on this, but I can give a very good account based deeply in canon for why I have the name listed as it is. If people want to agree or disagree with me at the end of the day, I don’t mind either way.

Regarding Riza... there are two types of scenarios she is called “Elizabeth” in Arakawa’s writing. One scenario is when everyone in Team Mustang is given code names. I imagine zero fans care about that as evidence. Havoc’s code name is Jacqueline, and that obviously isn’t his real name. Riza being called “Elizabeth” on the phone when Roy is disguising his operations by fake flirting doesn’t count for proof by itself. But the other instance is Roy calling her “Elizabeth” to Madame Christmas. I think most fans read that as Roy simply extending the code name for anonymity reasons. However, given Madame Christmas knows a ton about Roy’s emotional investment in Riza, and I’ve encountered some..... translational difficulties that the official English versions have with names... I think the latter’s a good cue.

Riza in older English translations and older merchandise was legitimately named “Liza,” and Liza is a common nickname for Elizabeth (especially for the time period Fullmetal Alchemist is roughly evoking). I talk about the translation weirdness here in much better depth. As you may know yourself, given your own language background, this would not be the first time the English translators made stupid mistakes with FMA names. Viz Media initially gave Xerxes the clusterfuck spelling ‘Cselkcess’ before they realized what the word was supposed to be. Ling Yao’s name has danced between Ling and Lin, despite Arakawa herself putting the Romanized spelling of his name in some drawn panels. I have seen Ranfun, Ranfan, and Lan Fan all within official FMA merchandise. Viz Media couldn’t even get a kid’s name “Kyle” down right in their translations... originally he was called “Khayal,” because at that point in time, they didn’t have a good grasp of the world (and ergo name base) that Arakawa was drawing from. Jean Havoc’s name should have been given a French pronunciation rather than sounding like ‘Gene,’ and if you wanted to Anglicize his name one step further, you could’ve named him John Havoc more accurately than what we got in the anime dubs.

With all that said and done, a character named Liza who is sometimes referred to as “Elizabeth” seems to me a logical enough indication she would have been born as “Elizabeth Hawkeye.” In any other circumstance, if I met someone who was called Liza but at one point got called “Elizabeth” by people who knew her in her past, I would conclude she was named Elizabeth. So yeah. Some people may disagree with my logic, but that’s the short of why I have it. XD

If other people are curious: another character whose name might disputed on my list is Rufus from Deponia. There’s some information in the obscure Deponia roleplaying book that says his father used to be named Landgull. Rufus was offended when his father changed his name from Seagull to Landgull to distance himself from Rufus (ergo, it wasn’t a first name change, which would’ve been irrelevant to disowning your blood relation to someone); Captain Seagull was always referred to by a title which usually goes with a last name; and ergo it’s likely Rufus could’ve grown up as Rufus Landgull. Even though the games never ever ever actually call him that.

2. NOW GOING ONTO THE ZUKO THING. Dude, I feel you. When I watched Season 1 of ATLA, I hated Zuko. By Season 3, I loved him and he was my favorite character. They did a magnificent job not just creating the character and giving him an arc, but allowing his personality to be increasingly revealed to us as audience members.

3. Why Aladdin? As a kid, I was obsessed with Aladdin. Now that I’m older, I still think his cheeky, adventurous, charming, but genuine yearning spirit are appealing. And he has sUCH pReTTy eYeSSS!!! So yeah.

4. Linguini is VERY underrated. What a dear.

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poppy-pelican · 4 years

Text

Strictly Taboo (fic)

Rating: Explicit

Fandom: Fullmetal Alchemist

AU: Lust has a gift that is a little more like her namesake...

And don’t take it too seriously. :P

AO3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25416481

Havoc’s new girlfriend was sex on legs—to the point Falman almost fell out of his desk chair getting a good look at her. Roy was less interested, allowing a cursory glance and nothing more. He watched as Hawkeye rolled her eyes at the men, but her lips twitched in amusement when Havoc stumbled over his introductions and accidentally called Breda, “Second Lieutenant Breast.”

Roy returned to the paperwork in front of him, pretending to work as he listened to Solaris flirt shamelessly with Havoc. Roy smiled to himself, grateful Havoc had found a new girlfriend already. He’d been unbearably sulky about having to leave his old one behind during the move to Central.

During a drawn-out reenactment of the Lieutenant Breast flub, Hawkeye stepped out of the office. For some reason, her absence felt more palpable than usual. Roy’s eyes kept flickering to the door, waiting for her to enter. When she returned, a tremor went through him as she focused warm brown eyes on him. He found himself fighting not to stare at the natural sway of her hips, his mouth watering.

He swallowed thickly when she approached his desk, an irrepressible hunger growing as his eyes dragged up her body back to her face. Her brow crinkled in concern at his expression. He hoped she couldn’t tell what he was thinking. She held out a stack of papers.

“These are the visitor records from Hughes’s office. Do you want me to go through it first, or do you want that honor, sir?” she asked.

Right. The investigation. Nothing like grief to destroy the pleasant thoughts about the way his lieutenant filled out her uniform. Disgusted with himself, he took the papers.

“I’ll go over it first,” he said. He was sure it was a dead end, but he owed it to Hughes to look at every possibility. He would put everything—even his ambitions—on hold until Hughes had justice.

Lust had never had such a hard time bending men to her will before. Jean Havoc had been so easily snared by her figure she thought the secrets of his team would come pouring out of him. But after a week, Jean had fucked her sideways—never saying a word about his job. It was infuriating.

Having already infiltrated the group as Jean’s girlfriend, it would be tricky to seduce one of the other men of Mustang’s team without raising their suspicions. If she failed again, she would lose her chance. So she’d approached it from a different angle. Mustang was focused purely on the investigation into Hughes’s murder, and like Hughes, was close to the Elric brothers. Lust knew seducing him would be challenging, if not impossible. The man had barely looked at her the first time she met him—unheard of in Lust’s experience unless the man was truly devoted to something else—a wife, a religion. In Mustang’s case, it was his obsession with finding his best friend’s killer.

Lust prepared for failure but remained optimistic Mustang’s more base instincts would overpower that drive for vengeance. If he threw himself at her, it would divide Mustang from Havoc, or if he set his eyes on any other women, he’d at least be occupied with something other than his nosy investigation. It wasn’t ideal, but it would prevent Father from losing a potential sacrifice if she succeeded.

She’d flirted with Havoc while watching, waiting for Mustang to crack under her influence. For a moment, she thought she had him when his stoic lieutenant walked toward his desk and it looked like he forgot how to speak. It was exactly the look Lust wanted from him.

Then he’d smoothly recovered, averting his eyes dutifully from his subordinate. Well, perhaps a few more days would wear him down…

Riza knew Havoc’s girlfriend had entered the office without looking up from her work. Havoc leapt out of his seat faster than he would if the fuhrer himself had appeared. Sure enough, Solaris strolled in with a liquid gait, dripping with confidence. Riza remembered what she’d overheard Havoc telling Breda and a blushing Fuery about her. Something about coming so hard he’d blacked out. Morbid curiosity had Riza wondering how she’d done it.

Riza’s gaze slid to the colonel who was on the phone, too enthralled in his conversation to acknowledge the office’s visitor. With the others all holding court with Solaris, and the colonel facing away toward the window, Riza grabbed the opportunity to study him. The colonel had been incredibly tense the past couple of days. Every time she went near him, he was either tapping his pen or grinding his teeth. Today her fingers itched to massage the tension from his broad shoulders, but that wasn’t professional. Even considering their long friendship it would be too intimate to touch him that way.

All of their touches had been accidental, or necessary for work. Even at Hughes’s funeral when she had longed to hug him, comfort him in any way she could, there had been nothing to do but stand by his side. How inappropriate it would have been to offer comfort when he hadn’t asked for it. How inappropriate it would have been for him to ask. She bit down on her lip, giving his back another once over.

It was then she realized someone was watching her. Solaris. Her piercing eyes made Riza feel exposed and reckless—like Solaris knew exactly what Riza was contemplating. Holding back a blush, she opened a new file with more gusto than necessary.

As she read through the file, the words began to blur, her eyes heavy. Solaris left, blowing a kiss to Havoc which Breda jokingly pretended to intercept and put on Fuery’s cheek. Everyone else laughed, but Riza was too groggy. A wave of heat rolled through her muscles, and when she checked her reflection in the restroom, her cheeks were rosy. She returned to her desk feeling restless, suspicious she had caught a bad cold. Terrible timing because they were busier than ever. Hopefully she wouldn’t need any sick leave.

She powered through, slogging through everything much slower than usual. Her body also seemed more attuned to the colonel’s than usual. She could admit she was always aware of him, partly because of her duty to protect him, partly because of the attraction she’d felt toward him since she was a girl. Still, this was more intense, like his body was a powerful magnet and she was helplessly resisting the pull.

A ball of pure want twisted in her belly, and she gave up and laid her head on the desk. She must have a fever. That was the only explanation.

“Hawkeye? Are you awake?” Havoc whispered.

“Yes,” she said dully. She sucked in a breath, hoping her head would clear.

“Maybe you should go home early. You look like you’re burning up,” he said, no longer whispering.

The colonel heard that. “Lieutenant.” Her eyes flickered to him through heavy eyelids. A jolt of desire ran through her as he looked her over in concern. She was immediately very wet between her legs, like she was by herself in bed, fantasizing about—

“Sir, permission to leave early? I’m not feeling well,” she blurted, staggering to her feet.

The colonel studied her quickly, and she clamped down hard on her lip, trapping a moan before it could escape as she imagined his hands where his eyes were looking. Or better yet, his tongue.

“Permission granted. Get some rest.”

Something was very wrong, but she’d rather die than explain it to him. Or anyone. Her hands trembled as she gathered her things.

“Forgive my bluntness, but you look terrible. Can I walk you home?” Havoc asked.

Riza hesitated. She hated to look weak, although it was too late for that. The sweat was gathering at her temples.

“You might need someone to walk your dog for you,” he said, providing an excuse for her to accept his assistance.

Black Hayate would need a walk. Shouldering her bag, she shuffled out of the office, disturbed by the increasing ache as she walked away from the colonel. She’d endured worse, as a memory of flames on her back scuttled briefly to the front of her thoughts. This would be a walk in the park.

Hawkeye was sicker than Jean had guessed. She’d willingly let him help her home, which had been alarming enough, but then she periodically stopped to lean against buildings for support, gasping like she was short of breath. He thought he heard her whimper.

This was bad.

“Maybe we should head to a doctor instead,” he suggested.

The look on her face was deadly. “No.”

“I could have Solaris come over and—”

“Definitely no. I’ll be fine.” Then she slumped to the ground, panting. “I’m not sure—I don’t think I’m actually sick,” she said, voice hushed.

Jean squatted beside her. “If you’re not sick, then what the hell is happening?”

“I’m not sure,” she repeated. “I just know—alchemy can do strange things, and something happened to Hughes. And now…” she trailed off. “This is different. I feel…compelled.”

Unnerved, he reached to light a cigarette. “Compelled, huh? To do what?”

Hawkeye looked away from him. “I…don’t want to say.”

He suddenly remembered a week ago when he’d felt off himself. Not to the degree Hawkeye was suffering, but he had been uncommonly insatiable. He looked at her again with a more critical eye. What he’d mistaken for a fever certainly matched his experiences in bed with a woman. He recoiled as bile rose in his throat. How was it possible to influence people this way? Even the resilient lieutenant in front of him.

“I’ve had that feeling myself, just last week,” he said lowly.

Hawkeye narrowed her eyes. “I don’t remember you having to leave the office.”

“Well, that could be because I had a willing girlfriend to take my, uh, urges out on.”

“I see,” Hawkeye muttered.

“You’re not dating anyone, are you?” he asked hopefully. “Or have any…potential partners who could…be of service?”

Her face wrinkled in disgust. “No.” She looked ready to reach for her gun. “And don’t you dare offer yourself.”

He laughed, despite everything. “Well, I could ask around the team—"

“No,” she said firmly. “I’ll take care of this myself.”

“I suppose you have to, if you aren’t going to ask for—"

He didn’t see her foot until it had knocked him on his ass.

Jean left Hawkeye at her apartment, bullying Black Hayate to come with him. The dog whined, trying to head home until Jean stopped and shared a chicken sandwich with him. When he made it back to the office, Mustang was the only one left at his desk, the others all absent for lunch.

“Black Hayate?” Mustang asked, more to Jean than the dog.

“I’m now his babysitter until further notice,” Jean said, feeling betrayed when the dog ran to sit by Mustang’s side.

Mustang reached down to scratch the dog’s head distractedly. “The lieutenant is that sick?” It was obvious he wanted to sound light, but the undercurrent of worry snuck through.

Jean debated how to approach this with Mustang. Hawkeye had very reluctantly given permission for him to explain it to the others—only because it could relate to their investigation. She’d also promised violence upon anyone who brought it up in front of her.

“About that…Hawkeye isn’t sure she’s sick in the traditional sense.”

Mustang was unamused. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I’ve taken to calling it the Plague of Frustration, sir,” he said, unable to help himself. “Sexual frustration, that is.”

Now his superior’s expression had gone flat. “What the hell does this have to do with Hawkeye taking a sick day? Are you saying she left because—she was—” He looked like he was short circuiting.

“Maybe let’s talk about it over coffee, yeah?” Jean suggested, wanting to be away from prying ears. “That café with the terrace seating—so young Mr. Hawkeye can come,” he added, gesturing to Black Hayate.

Mustang agreed, although Jean could tell the colonel was skeptical and on a short fuse.

Jean didn’t know much about Mustang and Hawkeye’s past before the military. It was understood amongst the team that it wasn’t talked about. He knew Hawkeye’s father had taught Mustang alchemy, and through him had met Hawkeye at a young age. Jean didn’t get the impression they were especially friendly back then, but he knew they were close now—protective of one another. As superior and subordinate, they were professional in every way, particularly Hawkeye. Outside the office, he knew they occasionally met up as friends, mostly with other members of the team.

Yet even with their strange, ineffable friendship, they never spoke of anything that would reveal deeper intimacy. Which was why Jean wished he had suggested a bar instead of a café while bringing up the lieutenant’s shocking display of “frustration,” as he was going to refer to it. There was no way he could say, “Hawkeye was too horny to work, sir.”

Well, he could say it. He just didn’t want to add another bruise to the one Hawkeye gave him. He couldn’t imagine Mustang taking this well.

Roy held his mug halfway to his mouth, where it hovered, unmoving. He processed what Havoc told him. On the one hand, he wasn’t sure if he should take it seriously or not. He’d never heard of such a thing, and yet three of them had already been hit with the illness, or whatever the hell he should call it. Maybe it was contagious? Could be nothing more than a bizarre prank. But what benefit would anyone get from Havoc fucking his girlfriend’s lights out? Roy’s bout with it, if that’s even what it was, had been nothing like that. Maybe he’d needed more personal time with his hand than normal—or a lot more than normal—but he’d still been able to go to work and function.

He’d seen the lieutenant that morning. Her cheeks were rosy, lips pouty and swollen. She sounded breathless as she spoke. What had seemed like an illness, now with his perspective changed…He discreetly adjusted himself. He didn’t need to see his lieutenant like that. He shouldn’t think about what she was doing back at her apartment, all alone…

Havoc coughed loudly. “Colonel?”

“What was that again?’ Roy asked, finally taking a drink of his now lukewarm coffee.

“I asked if you had any of your girlfriends help you out, if you know what I mean.”

“I got through it on my own, thank you very much. I’m not a slave to my baser needs.”

Havoc scoffed. “Oh! But me and Hawkeye are?”

Roy couldn’t wrap his head around the idea that Riza Hawkeye was dealing with—frustration—with less fortitude than Jean Havoc. “Right. Well. Hawkeye will get through it. Maybe it’s just…harder on women?” He felt absurd even saying it aloud.

“I have a theory,” Havoc said, leaning forward conspiratorially. “See, you and me—we go out and enjoy ourselves. Even when Hawkeye joins us at the bar, she never gets drunk, never gets too flirty with the bartender. When was the last time Hawkeye even had a boyfriend around?”

“Not since what’s-his-face who turned out to be afraid of guns,” Roy said thoughtfully. Maybe there was something to the theory. Of course, Roy had some inkling as to why the lieutenant was so hesitant to let loose. While he’d done his best to cover her secrets to flame alchemy with scars, he knew she was afraid it wasn’t enough. She chose her partners carefully.

“She just doesn’t give into her wilder side. And whatever this is, she seemed to be in agony. I wonder who did this?”

Roy also wanted to know, but he was caught up by the first part of Havoc’s words. Was Hawkeye really at home in agony? He looked down at her dog, curled up at his feet. To send away Black Hayate, she had to be in a bad place. Against his will, his mind began to supply ideas of what her agony might look like. He erupted with jealousy that Havoc of all people took her home, watched her so overtaken by want that he said she’d practically collapsed on the way home.

“I suppose the first thing is to ask the others if they’ve had any symptoms.” He scratched his head, at a loss. He really hoped it was nothing more than a prank. If it wasn’t…he’d have to kill whoever had brought down his closest subordinate.

For so long, Hawkeye was off limits. First as his master’s young daughter, then her father had just died. Roy wasn’t going to consider her when she was so vulnerable. Then they were both in the military and before he knew it, she was completely unattainable as his subordinate. It seemed simple to keep her in that category of unavailable women—like women in relationships. He never let himself go there. He kept Riza Hawkeye in a neat little box on the shelf: friend, confidante, his compass. Not lover.

Now that box had broken, opening up a slew of fantasies he’d been suppressing. If their enemy had wanted to distract him, they were thoroughly succeeding. This was almost worse than what he’d been feeling the past few days on his own. That had been mindless want—this had a target. A very forbidden target.

After work, he drove straight home and stormed into his shower. He set the temperature to cold. Once he felt thoroughly doused, he dried and dressed before giving into a lesser temptation than the one he had in mind. He picked up the phone and called Hawkeye. He told himself it was just to make sure she was okay—not to give her the opportunity to ask him for help. Help he shouldn’t give her.

It took several rings for her to answer. When she did, he was rewarded with a breathy, “Hello?”

“Lieutenant. Just—calling for a wellness check.” He was an idiot. An idiot who was already so aroused he was going to need to take an ice bath to get through this.

“Colonel?” Did she just whimper? His thighs flexed, fighting to relieve the tension building in his groin. “I’m surviving. Thank you for your concern, sir,” she said, as polite and distant as she could sound while panting into the phone.

“So far, it seems just you, Havoc and me have been hit with—the Plague of Frustration, as he calls it,” he said, hoping he sounded calm and teasing, and not desperately turned on.

“It happened to you?” she asked, disbelieving. Then he heard her, muffled like she had covered the mouthpiece, but it was there: a primal moan.

Keep it together, he warned himself. “Uh, yes. Though to a lesser degree than you and Havoc. We are trying to figure out why that might be.”

“Mhm, I might know why.”

He waited for her to answer, hanging onto the phone like it possessed the key to becoming fuhrer. The lieutenant said nothing for a moment, simply breathing unevenly.

“It’s just been far too long since I’ve…been with anyone.” She laughed humorlessly. “Havoc put the idea in my head, but seeing how you and him have been able to work and function…”

Roy’s free hand had finally stopped listening to his brain and stroked himself through his pants. He was a little disgusted with himself, but a bigger part of him was hoping that on the other end of the phone, his lieutenant had her hand between her legs mimicking his strokes.

“I could—” He coughed as his throat went dry. He shouldn’t ask. She would shoot him. “I mean, if you wanted—just as one friend helping out another friend. I could. Help.”

She was quiet. Either planning how to kill him, or…considering his offer.

“I hate to think of you suffering when I could do something about it,” he continued. Not to mention how much he wanted to help rather than her ask someone else.

“What about the fraternizing laws, sir?”

“Forget about them. These are extraordinary circumstances.”

“I don’t want—” His heart stopped. “It could ruin your career. And mine.”

His grin stretched painfully across his cheeks. “That’s not a no, lieutenant.”

“It’s not a yes either. We both know it would be a bad idea.”

“Or it could simply help you through this difficult time.”

“And what do you get out of it?” she countered. “I don’t want…a pity fuck.” The last part was a whisper.

“Oh, lieutenant,” he was near ready to come in his pants. “I’m not offering myself as some kind of sacrifice to you. I plan to thoroughly enjoy it.”

“I need to think about it,” she said, unceremoniously hanging up on him. Crippling disappointment flowed over him. He hoped he hadn’t screwed everything up between them. Maybe he’d pushed her too far.

Roy had barely returned the phone to the receiver when it rang.

“Hello?”

“Come over. Now,” Hawkeye said, and it ended with a wanton moan.

Roy didn’t hesitate. “I’ll be right there.”

Riza spent half the day waiting for a reprieve from the damning ache. Her own hands and fingers could satisfy her only for a moment, then the inferno was back with a vengeance. Her appetite was nonexistent, reading a book was futile. She wanted only one thing, from one man.

Now, knowing the colonel was on the way to her apartment to have sex with her…she was ravenous. She stepped into the cold shower for the third time that day, attempting to gain control of herself. As it stood, she feared she would leap on him the moment he arrived at her door.

Realizing how pointless dressing was, she slipped on a silky, floral robe—a feminine indulgence she self-consciously hoped the colonel would like. She was fretting over putting on underwear or not when she heard a firm knock on the door.

All of her nerves left her as the otherworldly desire took hold again. How many years had she wanted this man? Her legs trembled beneath her as she rushed to let him in.

Riza didn’t know what she expected—maybe the colonel posing with carefully crafted cockiness against the door frame, ready to tease her for wanting him so badly. Instead, she had hardly gotten the door ajar before he pushed it aside and gathered her in his arms, slamming the door shut with his foot.

She sighed in relief as his lips found hers, his tongue eager and seeking. He tasted like tea and what could only be him. Her knees buckled as he pressed her back against the closed door. Oh god. He was already hot and hard, and her core squeezed tight, impatient to have it inside her.

“Lieutenant, what are you wearing? I—fuck—” His hands were frantic, fluttering down to her hips, over the curves of her ass. He bunched the silk in his hands, gasping.

“There’s nothing underneath,” she hissed as his mouth trailed down to her neck.

“Fuck. Let me—I didn’t come here just to maul you,” he muttered, almost to himself. He dropped to his knees, then his dark eyes looked at her meaningfully. She knew what he was asking.

“Unnggh, please.”

She was already swollen and ready for him, and the touch of his mouth to her clit made her scream in pleasure. Her thighs clenched around him as he supported her legs with his shoulders, unable to stand up herself any longer. His tongue glided back and forth, his pace matching the sharp gasps escaping her. She should’ve known he would read her in bed as well as he did in the office. Not fair.

Her orgasm hit hard and fast, aided by whatever spell she was under, her eyes teared up from the pleasure rushing through her. She slumped back against the wall, chest heaving.

“Better?” He asked, smirking up at her. He looked so insanely sexy with her legs wrapped around him. Like he belonged there.

“Hmm,” she said thoughtfully, allowing him to put her down on her feet. “I may need one more thing from you though.”

Maybe it was the confidence of seeing how openly he was lusting after her, from his eyes raking over her to his unmistakable erection, but she felt like a powerful temptress.

She nudged him toward the wall, keeping him at arm’s length as she untied the robe and let it puddle to the ground. She delighted in his hungry stare, winking as she twirled around and sauntered to the bedroom. She didn’t worry about him seeing her back like other lovers. Her heart swelled at the thought of finally having Roy as a lover.

He was right behind her by the time she entered the bedroom. “You are going to kill me, lieutenant. And here I always thought it’d be with a gun,” he said as she turned to grab him by the tie.

Her fingers began to make quick work of him. “It’s not fair I’m standing here naked in front of my superior while he’s fully dressed.” She let her hands trace down his chest, dipping into his waistband and tugging his shirt free with more groping than was required, but she needed to feel his skin, was addicted to the ragged breaths he took with every touch of her body to his.

“We need an equivalent exchange, you say?” He fastened their mouths together for a moment. She could taste herself there. “I recall being on my knees earlier,” his voice was husky.

Wordlessly, she slithered to the floor at his feet, before letting her mouth caress his cock through the fabric of his pants. She purposefully moaned against him, letting the vibrations tease him.

His hands went into her hair, which was loose and damp against her back, gently wrapping the strands between his fingers as she nimbly undid his belt and shimmied his pants out of the way until his member was free. She watched him watching her as she ran her hand up his thigh and around to the base of his cock, holding it steady as she guided him past her lips. He throbbed against her tongue as she worked him deeper into her mouth. She couldn’t get all of him in, so she used her hands for the rest. His pupils were dilated wide, his eyes rarely blinking while she worked his erection, memorizing the grunts he tried to hold back. It was a marvel to see the colonel falling apart under her command. Her body spiraled with heat again until she had to reach her hand between her legs.

“Ah—ah—lieutenant. Maybe. Hold off. Unless you—”

She retreated slowly, making sure to drag her tongue across the head before she leaned back.

“No, I want…” she didn’t finish, challenging him with only her eyes. If she was only going to have Roy for one night, she wanted him inside her.

“You do want this, right?” he asked, adorably uncertain. She stood, wrapping her arms around his neck.

“I wouldn’t have called you back if I didn’t,” she said.

“Then why did you hang up in the first place?”

“Just because I think we shouldn’t, doesn’t mean I don’t want to. And the regret I felt not taking you up on the offer—I instantly knew I had to call you back.”

“I’m so happy you did,” he murmured, leaning to kiss her. He pulled back again. “But—I know what Havoc said about himself, but if you wouldn’t usually go down on your superior officer…”

Now she understood. Her cheeks flushed. “I’ll admit, my inhibitions are a lot lower. My tastes haven’t changed though.” She ran her hands along his broad shoulders, skimming down to his biceps. “You really haven’t caught me looking at you before?”

He groaned. “No. How long have you been looking?”

She smiled, aiming for coy and flirty to cover her nerves. “I don’t know. Always? Even when you were my father’s student, I remember being secretly pleased his apprentice was so good looking.”

Roy chuckled softly. “So you’re saying…I’m your type.”

“I’m saying, I’ve wanted to have you in my bed since I was a teenager.” She rubbed her naked body against his, relishing the feel of him. “And if I don’t have you inside me soon, I’m going to shoot you.”

It was easy from there to fall onto her neatly made bed, legs entwined. She inhaled the smell of his hair, clean and with a little hint of his natural scent. So good. She hugged him closer, letting his mouth worship her breasts while she rubbed her folds against his erection, slippery and hot. The ache was building again, much like it had been all day, an emptiness that needed filled.

“Colonel, hurry up,” she begged, struggling to bring their hips together with the way he had her pinned.

He glanced up at her, and what he saw reflected in her eyes made his burn even brighter. Rearing back, he hitched her legs around his hips and guided himself inside her, the wide head sending waves of rapture through her as he pushed past her opening and into the fluttering, swollen softness. Once connected at their most intimate parts, she closed her eyes, savoring the sensation of completeness. Did she ever think she could have the colonel like this? Even once?

Now she finally knew what it was like to have his body, to have him trembling with want as he began to thrust steady and passionately above her, what he could do with his tongue twisting with hers while she met his thrusts back with fervor. Her core clenched down, a torrent of pleasure building with each slam of his hips. She was close to the edge, watching him fight with himself to hold out—denying himself for her—

She pressed their mouths together, one hand lost in his thick, dark hair, the other encouraging him as deep inside her as he could go. Then she tipped over into blessed oblivion, moaning into his mouth.

It was easy to ignore her drowsiness when she was still so eager to take in everything she could of him. He leaned back, arms shaking. She caught his desperate, searching look—needing guidance.

Her lips curled. Oh, it would be best if he didn’t finish inside her. It was stupid.

It didn’t matter. She wanted him with every fiber in her being. She wrapped her legs around him, giving him permission.

The tortured whimper he gave her was worth all the risk as he lost himself in her at last, restraint dissolving as he pounded into her with abandon. He grabbed her hips and angled them so that when he came, she felt every inch of him pulsing inside her.

He rolled off her, leaving a warm, delicious ache behind. He stayed close, but not as close as another lover might—as if he were uncertain of where they stood. The feeling was mutual. How do you go from colleagues—friends—to one night stand?

“How do you feel?” he asked, after several minutes of comfortable silence. “Less…frustrated?”

“Yes. But I’m starving,” she said, her stomach growling quietly. “I couldn’t eat—before.” She wondered if the break would last, now that she finally felt sated.

“I see. I’m glad you took me up on my offer then.”

She turned to catch him grinning boyishly. Ridiculously charming. It almost had her telling him the truth—that she had been ready to call him. But however amazing being with him was, they could never be together officially, so what was the point in bringing it up?

“Me too,” she said, pulling the blanket up to ward away the chill.

She must have dozed off because the colonel nudged her awake, and she half-wondered if he wanted another round but instead, he was holding a plate with a sandwich and fruit.

“You should eat before you go to bed,” he said.

“Thank you,” she said, sitting up and taking the plate. It was then she noticed he was completely dressed. “Are you leaving?” She prayed she didn’t sound like a clingy girlfriend.

His cheeks reddened. “You want me to go?”

“You’re the one who looks ready to leave. And it’s getting late.”

“I just stepped out to the market on the corner because you were out of bread,” he said defensively.

Oh. Oh. She couldn’t stop the smile that crossed her face. “Well, once again I’m completely naked and you aren’t, sir.”

“I took the liberty of making myself a sandwich, too,” he said, pointing to her nightstand where another plate sat. Her heart felt light. He had planned to stay. And eat it in bed with her. “Have to keep everything equal, you agree?” he asked, loosening his tie.

“Hmm, I think that’s a good idea.”

Roy hadn’t known eating sandwiches naked in bed with Hawkeye would be more intimate than coming inside her. The mix of scars and tattoos on her back were carelessly exposed through a curtain of hair, and she had crumbs on her chin that he refused to mention. His chest felt tight, as it often did when he was alone with her. While she had always been off limits as a romantic partner, any lustful thoughts quickly shoved away, he had never censored himself to feelings of friendship…which had long, long ago turned to love. Having her as a lover, though…it might make him too greedy. He’d want to have it all.

“Mustang left that woman’s house this morning while it was still dark,” Envy reported. “He had that look humans get when they did something bad but they liked it.”

Lust felt triumphant. If this didn’t keep the colonel distracted from his investigation, she didn’t know what would. Though a small part of her felt proud of the lieutenant, woman to woman. It must have been something to bed a man like Mustang.

“Thank you, Envy. I’ll keep getting what intel I can from Havoc. He could still report any rifts between his superior and his favorite subordinate.”

“Heh, I hope it’s this simple to keep from killing a sacrifice candidate,” Envy’s words were both skeptical and hopeful. “You’d think it’d be easier to find five.”

#royai #royai au #fma #fullmetal alchemist #fanfic #ao3

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flourchildwrites · 5 years

Note

Hi, If you are still taking prompts, would you mind writing fictober "Ruins" for Havolina? :)

Witch, Please! Fictober 2019 (27/30)

A multi-fandom Fictober prompt compilation. Your wish is my command, but be careful what you ask for. You just might get it.

For @tomoehawkeye

Prompt: “Ruins” from Writetober 2019 Prompt List

Fandom: Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood & Manga, Fullmetal Alchemist - All Media Types, Fullmetal Alchemist (Anime 2003)

Relationship/Pairing: Rebecca Catalina/Jean Havoc

Genre: Alternate Universe - Practical Magic, Witches and Family Curses, High School Sweethearts

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Word Count: 1,566 words

Read on AO3

The Catalina women were blamed for everything that went wrong in their small island town, but it was, perhaps, the men they loved who suffered the most. The curse was well-known, less a legend and more a source of gossip that sprang eternal when the rumor mill ran dry. And yet, for cousins Riza and Rebecca, the plague on their household was all too real.

Too real when their fathers died sudden and mysterious deaths. Too real when their mothers took their leave, courtesy of broken hearts that refused to mend.

By the time young Rebecca arrived at the wrought iron gates of Stonybrook Cottage, Riza had already settled in. She was the spitting image of her mother, Aunt Elizabeth, with wispy blonde hair, copper eyes and a pale heart-shaped face. Though pretty, her cousin was tomboy through and through, smelling perpetually of fresh-cut grass and more than willing to beat local boys at their own games when a competitive mood stuck.

Appropriately, Rebecca quickly proved herself to be her cousin’s complement. Bold where Riza was shy but charming where her cousin was prone to confrontation, they got along as only two halves of a whole could. And while Riza was fair and lithe, Rebecca grew into the curves of her tan complexion and leaned into the power of a pair of dark bedroom eyes that stopped people in their tracks.

Under the old roof of Stonybrook Cottage, the cousins claimed their birthright courtesy of two ageless aunts who mirrored the girls’ contrast. Aunt Maria lectured long about astrology, signs and art of spellcraft while Aunt Olivier exclusively taught the subtle science of potion-making and dabbled in the occasional duel. High school existed also, and Rebecca thought the place a bore, punctuated frequently by childish whispers, taunting rhymes and hateful scribbles on the bathroom stalls.

Rebecca Catalina ❤’s Jean HavocRest in Pieces, Jean

“Who did it?” Riza bellowed, aware that their entire gym class (sans Rebecca) was in on the joke.

Unforthcoming giggles emanated from the gaggle of girls still present in the locker room, not one woman enough to own the egregious act. They hid their sneers behind ramrod straight fringes of hair and hands pressed to their mouths.

“Riza,” Rebecca warned. She grabbed her cousin’s arm as she felt the hex gathering on the tip of her tongue. “It isn’t worth it. Besides, Jean and I are just friends.”

“Friends who suck face under the bleachers,” Patricia Parkinson grumbled. “So sad that Jean has a death wish.”

Between Rebecca and Riza, it wasn’t always clear who was the witch to blame, least of all to the students and faculty of the Southaven High. But when the locker room mirrors began to tremble and the faucets popped off the pipes, spewing water over the offending girls and their belongings, Coach Sheska was forced to concede that the dry parties were the most likely culprits.

“Nice one,” Riza offered. As the two made their way to the principal’s office, she looked at her cousin with a sly pair of eyes that Rebecca refused to meet.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Rebecca maintained. “That was totally you.”

“Was not. I was going to bind their hands, not wreck the entire bathroom. Not that I don’t approve.”

Rebecca suppressed a dark grin. “Well, whoever did it, the Aunts aren’t going to like the property destruction,” she remarked, happily diverting the conversation to the inevitable consequences.

“No, but they’ll understand. They always do. Just be careful with Jean. Couldn’t have fallen for a girl or nonbinary person instead, could you?”

“No,” Rebecca admitted, “I had little choice in the matter.”

…

Rebecca often consoled herself that Jean Havoc was made of tough stuff. He reminded her of it every time they met beneath the bleachers (his choice) or in the back of his car (her preference). There was something playful about parking Jean’s crossover out by the lake on the Catalina estate, watching the sunset and seeing just how far the seats could recline.

But tonight was different. Rebecca knew it from the way he looked at her. Her stomach lurched pleasantly when she saw he’d shaved his face and pressed his collared shirt. A foreboding, ringbox-shaped bulge in Jean’s back pocket sealed the deal. Rebbeca did her best to distract him, knowing she wouldn’t have the heart to turn him down.

So, she pulled Jean into the backseat and pushed him against the leather interior, envious of the way the slick surface must have pressed against his skin. Hips rolled and mouths crashed into one another in the dwindling light of the setting sun. And suddenly, Jean wrapped his strong arms around Rebecca’s waist and maneuvered them both to a sitting position. He pulled away just in time to ask a question as she trailed warm kisses up his neck.

“I’ve always wanted to know why there’s a fireplace jutting out of the middle of the lake,” he said, glancing sideways at his girlfriend.

Rebecca sighed and took in more of Jean’s cringeworthy corner store cologne. At first, she’d disliked the smell. Now, she craved it, going as far as to keep one of his undershirts beneath her pillow. If Jean wondered where it had gone, he didn’t ask.

She straightened up and decided to tell the story as quickly as possible. “That’s all that’s left of the old Catalina Manor,” she explained. “Surely, you know that old rumor.”

She dived down for another kiss but was stopped by a pair of inquisitive eyes. “I’d like to hear it from you.”

“Fine,” Rebecca relented. She slid off his lap and smoothed her mussed hair to one side. Jean took to massaging the soles of her feet as she spoke, a sure sign of ingratiation that obliged Rebecca’s toes to curl.

“My ancestor, Prudence Catalina, lived in that house with her family, and some people thought that she was more than a healer. They thought she was a… y’ know-”

“-a witch?”

“Yes, that. Anyway, one day, the good townsfolk of Southhaven decided to charge Prudence with witchcraft and sentenced her to burn. But her husband wouldn’t let her go without a fight. So, a mob set the house on fire. Prudence cast a spell of protection on the fireplace where she and her daughter waited out the flames.”

“So, that’s why it’s still standing then? Prudence’s protection spell?” Jean probed.

“Sure,” Rebecca offered warily, “if you believe in magic.”

The unspoken question hung heavy in the air, coupled with heady eye contact that made Rebecca want to crawl back into her lover’s lap and stay there until eternity passed them by. Jean’s hands moved passed her ankles, working her calves with delicious, rolling pressure. Rebecca wasn’t entirely sure there wasn’t magic in his fingers, least of all because of how her tongue seemed to loosen.

This was the worst part of the story. Still, Rebecca continued, if only because Jean had asked her so nicely.

“But Prudence’s husband died in the fire, and she never recovered, even though the townsfolk were fearful of her power and resolved to leave her alone. She raised her daughter in the cottage my family still lives in but was often found crying by her old home’s ruins where she buried her husband. Over time, her tears formed this lake, and in a fit of despair, she cast a spell on herself. The depth of her bitterness twisted into a curse. Which is, I’m sure, what you really wanted to know about.”

Jean hummed in response. “I wonder why you care about it so much. I think about why you won’t let me kiss you in public, and you give me all these talismans to wear.”

He pulled at a long chain concealed beneath his shirt to reveal several small circle pendants adorned with geometric designs and ancient sigils. Each one sang softly with the labor of Rebecca’s love, though she wouldn’t call it that. Not yet.

Rebecca pinched the bridge of her nose. “Amulets, Jean,” she laughed. “Not talismans. There’s a difference. And you know why you wear them.”

Jean moved over her, then, slipping his hand behind her neck and kissing the burgundy lipstick from her lips.

“Loving you,” he confessed, “helps me to understand why Prudence’s husband did it. I’d do it, too, and I’d gladly tell those girls at school where to go for taunting you like they do. Curses are made to be broken, Becky, if you’ll have me.”

She knew what he meant, and wanted to say yes.

Rebecca wanted to run away with Jean and start a new life elsewhere, however pointless that would be in the end. Her mother had tried it, and so had Riza’s parents. They all ended up six feet under with their perfect lives reduced to ruin. Long ago, Riza and Rebecca had resolved to be different, but that was before Rebecca met Jean Havoc, his last name so apt for what he did to her resolve.

Instead of responding, she kissed him with her eyes shut tight, as if she was just a girl and he was her guy. As if the curse was just a tragic fairy tale told by lovers at the lake.

Somewhere near the murky banks of the water, the death-watch beetle began its ominous countdown, and across the estate, Riza startled, knowing there was much work to be done.

A/N: Thank you for the prompt, @tomoehawkeye! Sorry, this is a little late. I caught a stomach virus. I hope you like it as much as I like these sort of asks popping up in my tumblr inbox. Anyway, if you read something you like, don’t hesitate to let me know in whatever way you want. Your kudos, bookmarks, subscriptions, comments, likes and reblogs make my day!

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mythicamagic · 5 years

Text

Swimming in Silk - Chapter 18

Training in front of her, engaging her in conversation and now lending her his clothes…Kagome is starting to suspect that Sesshoumaru is trying to gain her attention.

Sesskag - Romance, Humour, Drama, Angst

Rated M - As always you can read this story on Ao3, fanfiction.net or Dokuga

Chapter One - here Previous Chapter - here Next chapter - here

Feeling Flurries ~

Upon finally setting foot in the infamous bookshop, Kagome immediately fell in love with it. Refined yet homey, the space held dark wooden shelves, walls and smooth surfaces. There were traditional things here and there, like echoes of the past, but also foreign influences. She wondered if he'd travelled and where, briefly envious.

A leather armchair was tucked away in the corner. Structures that resembled tree trucks interrupted the floor, standing like pillars with shelves carved into their wood and books piled in. So many books!

The lack of windows oddly didn't stifle the area, as warm lamps lit the way through the shop.

"It's lovely," Kagome said in awe. It had more of his personality than his own apartment, as though he spent more time there than at home. "I'm kinda glad I didn't know about this place though. Grandpa would have dragged me here every weekend."

Sesshoumaru stood by her side, drinking in her reactions. His hand rested on the dip in her spine, gently pushing to usher her further in. "I don't doubt it, especially with the section in the back dedicated to the Sengoku Jidai."

She curled her hand in his shirt suddenly. "Wait- that's right! Did you know my Grandpa? He left me your clothes after he died." She rose a brow, buzzing with questions.

Thin lips curved, flashing a dark smile. "Not telling."

Kagome gaped and tugged the fabric. "Ohh no you don't! That's not fair! You can't keep that stuff all to yourself," a small whine leaked into her voice. He's such a jerk.

His deep chuckle rang out pleasantly. The hand at her back curved to her hip, bringing her closer, easing down with his intent gaze on her lips.

The sound of something shattering broke the mood. Kagome jerked her head forward, locking eyes with a startled young man that resembled a 14-year-old. Demon, she noted. He had unruly dark hair and familiar green eyes. His hands were still frozen in the air- the remains of a teacup scattered on the floor.

"Um, hello?" Kagome smiled. He didn't answer, attention straying from Sesshoumaru's arm around her, to the waning smile on the demon lord's lips, and finally to Kagome's hand curled in his shirt.

"Yukita close your mouth, lest you catch flies," Sesshoumaru muttered flatly.

The young man's mouth clicked shut.

"Oh! I thought you kinda resembled him. Are you Shippo's son?" Kagome breathed, clasping her hands and radiating joy.

Collecting himself, Yukita nodded. "I am."

He smoothly bowed, causing her hands to flit and wave in the air. "T-there's really no need for that. I'm so happy to meet you," she eased forward.

Yukita quickly straightened. "My siblings and I grew up hearing tell of your exploits in the past. I am honoured to make your acquaintance."

Kagome paused, stopping just shy of touching him. He'd said it so stiffly, tone removed. It was like a line rehearsed for a play.

"W-well thank you, but-"

"Ohh my God, is she here!" A voice cried.

Kagome turned to her left- a hard force colliding with her chest as arms wrapped around her. She made a noise, the air knocked from her lungs. Thudding to the floor.

A nose pressed against her neck, inhaling in short quick bursts like sniffs. Bright blue eyes then swallowed Kagome's vision.

"You smell just as I remember! When Uncle said you were coming I couldn't bear to wait, so I camped here all night. I had to see you!" The young woman breathed. "I'm Riza, do you know me yet? Is it true you can decapitate three men at once with your bow and arrow?"

The gushing young woman was promptly plucked off her, lifted away. Sesshoumaru observed the wolf demon in his grasp flatly.

"Did I not explicitly state that you must approach her calmly?" Sesshoumaru uttered.

"What, you'd rather I stood there like Yukita and made her feel awkward?"

Kagome picked herself off the floor, dusting herself off as she smiled. "It's okay. No harm done," her eyes glittered. "Uncle."

Sesshoumaru reluctantly set the girl down, shooting Kagome a look.

Riza turned on her heel and gasped, clutching the miko's hand in both of hers. Kagome got a serious case of deja vu. Blinking the image of Kouga from her eyes, she tried to keep track of Riza's words. "Ohmigosh look at your hair! What happened to it?"

"I cut it because-"

Riza spun to glare at the stoic demon lord. "I can't believe you let her walk around like this! Poor thing. C'mere, I'll sort out those unruly locks post haste~"

Kagome was helpless to resist the whirlwind that was Riza.

-----

Soon enough, she was seated in a breakroom outback, facing a mirror and holding still. Riza shifted behind her, trimming her short black hair into something neater. Yukita had left them to prepare tea in the next room, while Sesshoumaru was unfortunately left to deal with customers. He sent all three of them sour looks, before leaving to attend to Mrs Megumi, a kindly old woman awaiting her latest edition. His patience and customer service was yet another thing that sent Kagome's head spinning. The Killing Perfection and customers did not sound like a natural mix.

"Thanks for doing this," Kagome hesitantly smiled in the mirror. Riza grinned back, and for a moment Kouga's features stared back at the miko. She had the same tanned skin and slightly beefy arms and build, yet there was also grace about her that was entirely demonic.

"It's no problem. You should bully Uncle into remembering these things. He's got his head in the clouds so often it's no wonder he forgot."

"Really?" Kagome blinked.

"Oh totally. Sometimes it's like he's there, but he's not there, you know?"

Kagome wasn't certain she wanted to. Feeling a tap on the side of her head, she turned it obligingly. "Were you the one who helped him out with that sleepover stuff?"

"How could you tell?"

Her lips tugged up into a fond smile. "Because he's never liked sappy stuff, let alone teen rom-coms. I could tell he was daydreaming the whole time, but it was sweet of you both."

The wolf demon gave a huff. "I told him to at least try giving them a chance! He can't see their artistic integrity!"

Giggling quietly, warmth flooded her chest. At least Riza seemed happy to meet her. Kagome wondered how best to broach the subject of Yukita, deciding to just ask. "Um so... Yukita, is he-"

"Always like that? Nah. Just around people he doesn't like." Riza said cheerily. Kagome's shoulders slumped.

"I figured. Did I piss him off already?"

"Ah don't worry. It's nothing personal. He just doesn't like that Uncle Sesshoumaru has been kind of...lonely? At least we think so. He never says. But we all know he's been waiting for you. Yukita thinks he shouldn't have done, is all."

"I-I see," Kagome said softly, guilt squeezing her heart. "I get that. If my loved one was sad because of someone specific I'd probably hate them too." She paused thoughtfully, her lips tilting into a relieved smile. "I'm glad."

"Wha?" Riza tilted her head. "Why?"

"Because. This means you guys really love him. He's got people who look out for him so much they worry. I was...concerned he'd isolate himself."

Riza smiled slowly. "You're weird. Gotta admit, I can't really remember you because I was a lil tyke, but I could always recall of your smell. All warm and nice. And smells don't lie, so I liked to believe you were as good a person as Mama and Papa said you were."

Kagome grinned. "How are they?"

Her eyes lit up. "Good! They live in Kyoto. Dad was an athlete for a while until he started gaining too much attention. Gotta be careful with the immortal looks, you know. So now he coaches them."

"And Ayame?"

"Same kinda thing. She's a fitness instructor. Don't think they're cool or anything though: Mostly they go on mountain hikes at the weekends with my Uncles, pretending they still own territory." She rolled her eyes. "They need to get with the times."

Kagome grinned, considering Riza's loose definition of the word if Sesshoumaru was included. "I'm guessing you have a lot of Uncles."

"Oh yeah! Let's see…" she paused, lifting away the scissors and counting on her fingers. "At least 15, tops!"

Bursting into laughter, Kagome tried to stifle her amusement as Sesshoumaru padded back in, raising a brow. From the way his shoulders relaxed, she could tell he was pleased.

"Ah, hey! We're all done here. You like?" Riza gestured to the back of Kagome's head while placing her things down.

Sesshoumaru took a moment to glide his attention over the locks, nodding. "It is acceptable. But I saw nothing wrong with the wild look, personally."

For some reason the way he said it made the miko's cheeks heat. Riza huffed, showing Kagome the back via a hand mirror. "You would say that."

"It looks great! You did a wonderful job," Kagome breathed, curling her fingers in the much neater ends. In all the chaos she hadn't had time to fuss over it, but now she felt truly grateful for some normalcy like hair styling.

The wolf demon blushed a little, grinning as she pulled the towel off from Kagome's shoulders.

Sesshoumaru soon lured the miko away, leading her down a dark aisle towards the back stacked with yet more books. Kagome glanced around, pulling a few volumes from the shelves.

"I like what you've done with the place," she teased. "I don't see any tween stuff though. You weren't lying about stocking them were y-"

Kagome found her back meeting the shelves, her demon looming over her. She knew that look. It was dusted over, like the small embers left behind in a once burning hearth. But the fire could be coaxed out easily. Sesshoumaru's lips were parted. The colour of his eyes flickered between gold and red, before pale lashes lowered.

He lingered close, nose brushing the crown of her head and inhaling her hair.

"Sesshoumaru?"

The steady fans of hot breath were replaced with the soft pressure of his lips. "My control falters and holds at the strangest of times."

Kagome blushed, curling her fingers in his shirt. "We can't…sleep together because of the whole life span plan thing, but we could do other things." She suggested, reddening darker at his chuckle. "We could stop before it got too far!"

"I could not."

"I-I'll keep you in line, buster. C'mon, whatever you've been holding back, I'll take it. Not like you'd go all the way right here in the shop anyway."

The Daiyoukai looked at her keenly.

"Sesshoumaru!" She gaped, swatting his arm. "You perv!"

The pads of his fingers started at her ribs, gliding down over her side to curve around her hip and ease her closer. Those inhuman eyes remained hooded, causing her to swallow. Slowly, carefully, she rose up on tip-toe to brush her lips over his.

A low sound escaped him which she mistook for anger, and she quickly backed off- only to find his mouth chasing hers. Their lips met in a heated rush that caused her to inhale sharply. The kiss felt firm and hard, palpable passion underlining it. She could feel the emotions simmering beneath the surface of his paper-thin control. Kagome knew she really shouldn't encourage it. She shouldn't coax the embers in the hearth. She shouldn't, but…

Firm fingers latched to his clothes as the miko pressed into him, stroking her other palm over his pale cheek. Her fingers slid around his curved ear, and she almost pulled away the difference startled her so much. Barely a moment later and she could feel the shell elongate into a point, and her thumb gratefully followed the path.

Sesshoumaru shuddered and braced himself unsteadily on the shelf above her. His attention strayed to her neck, pepping hot open-mouthed kisses to the feverish skin. He hit a certain spot that had her giggling as usual, and his arms tightened around her. "You still react the same way," he murmured.

Kagome stilled upon realising he was simply…hugging her. Sesshoumaru's hands slid over her, not to elicit desire, but as though confirming her existence. A sadness crept into her heart. His lips pressed to her cheek, resting there.

"When I have you for good, I won't be letting go." he muttered, with a steadfast bluntness that could only be assuring. "You should prepare yourself, miko."

The frantic want for him mellowed into warm adoration, and Kagome rested her head against his shoulder.

"Forget preparing, I'm looking forward to it," she giggled. "I'm so happy you got close with Kouga and Ayame and Shippo. You have friends."

"We are not. And this one is offended that you sound surprised."

Holding him close, she giggled, occasionally lifting her head to steal kisses. "When we first started this courtship thing your best friend was a tree."

"Hn," he kissed her harder this time as a distraction.

Their minds drifted for a moment where not even time could reach them. Kagome exhaled in contentment, swimming.

A commotion broke out at the front of the store. Shouts, snarls and familiar sounding curses assaulted her hearing. Breaking away from Sesshoumaru, Kagome gaped, hurrying forward.

Rushing down the aisle, she skidded to a stop the moment wild white hair caught her attention. Inuyasha scuffled with Yukita, grabbing the smaller boy by the scruff and shoving him off.

"I know she's here, asshole! Let me go so I can- Kagome!" His gold eyes snapped up, ears flicking atop his head. Kagome picked up his fallen cap, placing it atop his head and patting it.

"Hey there," she gave a sheepish smile.

With a snarl, he released Yukita and stood. "Don't 'hey there' me!" He barked. "I've been lookin' all over the city for you! Shippo gave some bullshit excuse, but I knew it had to have somethin' to do with that bastard. Where is he!?"

Spreading her hands out, palms flat, Kagome shook her head. "I'm the one who didn't come home right away, don't-"

A warmth passed by her side, Sesshoumaru's presence felt before she could visibly see him step in front of her. Inuyasha leapt, swiping his fist out. A hard sound of impact reached Kagome's ears, and she started, seeing his fist connect with Sesshoumaru's jaw.

The elder brother held his gaze, not moving an inch. Inuyasha exhaled, gritting his teeth and striking his fist out again, only to meet Sesshoumaru's palm.

"That's enough. I...apologise," the demon's lips thinned, but the words came just the same.

Inuyasha tore his fist free, backing up with wide eyes. "Ha? What the fuck?"

A blur zoomed by Kagome, rustling her clothes and hair. A moment later, Inuyasha's back met the floor, yelping as Riza grinned down at him. "What the FUCK!"

Kagome rested her hand on Sesshoumaru's arm and shifted forward. "Let's all calm down. Inuyasha, you came here to take me back to Mom's, right? I'll go. I need to see her anyway." She turned to the presence beside her. "Do you…want to come and meet my family?"

He stilled, quickly recovering and inclining his head, seemingly unfazed by the bruise forming under his eye and the red tinge to his cheek.

"Fine, whatever- BUT WOULD YOU GET OFF ME!" Inuyasha snarled at the wolf demon.

Riza grinned, "Uncle Inuyasha is so grumpy!"

"I'll join you for a walk," a calm voice uttered.

Kagome glanced at Yukita in surprise, giving a startled, tentative smile. "R-really? Sounds great! L-let's go team!"

Ignoring her nervous enthusiasm, he walked out the door, causing her to wilt slightly.

Riza stayed behind to mind the shop while their small group walked through the streets. She and Kagome had swapped numbers, much to the miko's delight.

Despite Sesshoumaru having calmed the yuki-onna the previous day, the snow hadn't completely disappeared. A few stray flecks still drifted down from the sky, landing in the slush that the snow had become beneath their feet.

Sesshoumaru padded ahead with Inuyasha, holding a conversation for once. Kagome wanted to be nosy, but also respected their privacy, settling on walking alongside Yukita.

They carried on in awkward silence. Kagome inwardly fussed, sneaking glances at the short boy. He certainly looked serious and grim-faced, but she could pick out certain features like his nose and chin that resembled Shippo's. Tugging her bottom lip between her teeth, Kagome opened her mouth to apologise-

"We don't have to talk. I don't have anything to say to you," he uttered cooly.

She winced, thinking to herself before choosing her response carefully. "You sound like Sesshoumaru," she murmured, soon backtracking. "I-I mean your tone. He can always pull off the intimidating thing really well."

He glanced at her, before facing forward again. Kagome noted his dark hair. Rika had mentioned that his natural colour was white, like his mothers, but instead of glamorising himself to have Shippo's signature red locks, he'd chosen to imitate...

"You admire your Uncle a lot, don't you?" She said quietly. "I get why. He's pretty amazing. One of the strongest demons I've ever met." Yukita nodded in firm agreement, which was something. "You don't like me being with him," Kagome continued. "I can also understand that. He's waited a long time for me and-"

"Precisely," Yukita cut in sternly. "You're nothing special. I told him so many times to just give up on you, to be happy with another. You kept him chained to loneliness."

Kagome felt her heart clench, pushing on. "But Sesshoumaru can't be made to do anything he doesn't want to, surely you know that." Yukita tensed at her side. "It's true if he'd forgotten about me maybe he could've been happier, but that was his decision. Not mine or yours or anyone else's."

"You're going back to the beginning of your relationship soon, correct?" He stopped, glaring at her with hard forest green eyes. "If you really cared about his suffering, you'd make it so that he never foolishly fell in love with you."

Kagome's bones locked, freezing her mid-step. "You're suggesting I just...do nothing?"

Yukita nodded. "If Uncle never falls for you, all this heartache can be avoided. He can find a real Lady of the Western lands and rule with her."

Kagome's gaze lowered, watching the faint flurries of dying snow settle into icy puddles. He had a point. She'd thought about it herself and wondered. Maybe the Western Lands would never have fallen. Continuing to walk, Kagome looked up at the backs of the two half brothers she felt like she'd been following for so long.

She could have lived out the remainder of her life in the village with Miroku, Sango and the others.

But…

For some reason what she thought of first was his bed hair. There was something so endearing about the way his white bangs would be fluffed up come morning, how those gold eyes would be almost dopey with sleep before they sharpened.

The way he'd daydream came to mind – how he presented himself as the picture of regality and poise while gazing at tree-tops. The feel of being trapped beneath him after they'd made love, how he'd kiss and bite her neck, making her squeal with delight. Even the open softness in his eyes came to mind. The trust he'd placed in her to never betray that look of quiet adoration.

"I can't," she said simply.

"What?"

Kagome shrugged. "I can't do that. If there's a chance I can be with him I'll seize it with both hands. We've come too far…everything up to now can't be a waste. Besides," Kagome raised her head, looking at him levelly. "It's what Sesshoumaru would want. If I gave up before even trying, I don't think I'd forgive myself. Even if the me right now disappeared, those feelings wouldn't die. They'd carry over. At least, that's what I think. Maybe I'm just being selfish, but hey, I still need to actually time travel back. Maybe you'll get lucky and I'll goof it up so bad the old Sesshoumaru will kill me. Who knows."

Yukito stared, giving a long extinguished sigh. Slowly, he folded his arms while giving her a thoughtful once over.

"Mn, that's good."

Kagome blinked. "Come again?"

"That's the answer I was looking for. Though your lack of self-confidence isn't so impressive, at least you won't back down."

"Y-you were testing me!?"

"Mn. We felt like we needed to," he lifted a shoulder, nonplussed. We? Oh, he must mean him and Riza.

Trying to handle all her conflicting emotions of outrage, confusion and exasperation, she blurted the first thing that came to mind. "S-so you don't hate me?"

"Not really," he slid his hands into his pockets, continuing to walk. "I would have, if you'd given up just now. And sometimes I did tell Uncle to forget you. But you've both made your choices."

Kagome stiffened at the look he shot her over his shoulder. Glittering green widening into something innocent.

He really is Shippo's son.

A quiet laugh escaped her as she marched up to his side. Wrapping an arm around his shoulders, Kagome tightened her grip until he was practically squashed under her arm. Rubbing her knuckles hard into his head, she grinned, giving him a very vicious nuggy.

"Ahahaha you joker! You really had me going there a sec. You. Funny. Guy," she laughed, tightening her grip. "Really good for my self-esteem, cutie-pie!"

Yukita wheezed and whined, batting at her arm as he struggled.

"This one is pleased to see you are getting along." A pale brow rose. Sesshoumaru observed them quietly with wry amusement one could only get if they enjoyed others discomfort. Which he did.

"Oh yeah, we're besties now," Kagome grinned darkly, ignoring Yukita's protests in a classic older sister move.

Upon noticing they'd already reached the shrine steps however, she reluctantly let go, ruffling the fox's hair some more for good measure. "I said the same thing to Rika, but I'm glad he's got people looking out for him," Kagome murmured lowly. "Just don't do that again or I'll kick your ass."

Yukito blinked, straightening and fixing his hair mutely. Sesshoumaru tilted his head as she passed, but Kagome just smiled. Beginning to walk up the stairs with Inuyasha, she glanced at him.

"What did you two talk about?" She asked, flashing a grin.

Inuyasha seemed startled out of his thoughts, glancing at her and then sharply focusing on the top of the stairs. Sliding his hands into the sleeves of his jacket, he tsked. "Nothin' much. Bastards gotten weird in his old age is all," he muttered, lapsing into silence the rest of the climb.

The moment the door opened Kagome was swallowed by a tight hug. Mrs Higurashi squeezed her tight, in a way that Kagome knew she was forgiven for leaving so quick. Releasing her, Mama turned to face their company, "Thank you for bringing her back, Inuyasha."

The Hanyou gave nod, looking mildly uncomfortable by the warmth in her tone. Sesshoumaru had the grace to appear slightly sheepish, but he met the woman's gaze unflinchingly.

"You must be Kagome's husband."

Surprisingly, Sesshoumaru bowed low, causing Kagome's eyes to widen. "Not yet. You can think of me as her fiancé." He shot the miko a sour look, as though she were to blame for the technicality. "I should have introduced myself sooner."

Mama Higurashi gave a giggle, "apparently you made your intentions crystal clear to Grandpa, so I suppose you already have. He gave you permission, right?"

Kagome's head snapped in her mother's direction. "What? Mom-Wha! Explain please!"

Her brown eyes were warm and dancing. "Your Grandpa told me not long before he died that he met a demon once. That's why he was always so insistent on their existence. Let's just say the mystery demon asked for permission to marry you- or um...more like threatened when Grandpa said no,"

Kagome shot Sesshoumaru a murderous look, who suddenly found the tops of the trees very fascinating. Mama waved it off, "it happened a long time ago. Grandpa said he couldn't be sure if it was a dream or not. I took it with a pinch of salt." She turned her warm smile on Yukita and moved forward to introduce herself, while the front door burst open and Shippo glared at them, three children glued to his sides. "It's about time you showed up! I can't hold the fort forever you know!"

Mama Higurashi forced the demons inside for dinner with a stubbornness that rivalled Kagome's. Setting the table, the miko glanced around fondly, finding Souta and Yukita playing video games. Inuyasha was discussing something with Shippo while holding one of the red-headed fox children at bay using his foot. Finding Sesshoumaru leaning against a wall, Kagome made to approach, only to see the small bundle in his arms.

Zura's arm was draped over his shoulder, chubby cheek resting against his neck as she slumbered, tucked under his chin. Sesshoumaru supported her, absentmindedly rubbing her back, sharp claws careful as he watched the television expressionlessly. It was akin to having a boxing glove ram itself into Kagome's gut. Only instead of pain, flurries of butterflies exploded in her stomach, flowing down into her toes like melted honey. She very nearly cooed.

Sesshoumaru caught her eye and paused. His lips curved into a knowing smile, and a very dangerous and stupid impulse seized Kagome.

"Dinner!"

Broken rather rudely from the pleasant spell, the miko flushed and moved to help her mother carry through the dishes, trying to ignore the quiet chuckle that spiked her pulse.

"So I should try time travelling without an item?" Kagome asked several hours later.

Zura had been shifted into Yukita's arms as the foxes said their goodbyes, starting to pad down the shrine steps.

"Hn, you will not be able to travel back to the first mating until you understand how to manipulate the power of the well." Sesshoumaru uttered, standing below the torii arch and meaning to leave. Only he hadn't quite gotten around to it yet.

Kagome folded her arms, leaning against the structure. "I guess up to now I've let it react however it wanted and been pulled along for the ride." She mused, before nodding. "Alright. I want to go back about a week after Kouga's pack found you. To see you recovering. Do you remember me appearing around that time?"

"…No. I recall the next jump happening several years after that event, but my memories around that time are strained."

She smiled, balling her hand into a fist and raising it. "That's no problem. I need to figure out how to handle it, so some slip-ups are bound to happen. I'll give it my best!"

A warm palm settled over her fist and Sesshoumaru stared at her, winter lashes lowering slightly. Kagome's optimism slipped along with her grin, glimpsing the emotion he'd rather keep hidden.

"I'll be back," she said quietly. The thought of him going back to his apartment alone made her heart clench. There certainly had been some truth to Yukita's words despite her conviction. Sesshoumaru inclined his head, sliding his hand free from hers.

"Hn…return home soon."

Home. It struck her that they really could make a life together in the present. True her friends were gone and his lands had been stolen, but they could make something together. An actual home with love and new friends around them. Even if the faces had changed, echoes of their former life were all around them.

All I want to do is get this stuff outta the way. To kick start our bond and come here to actually start living with you.

Though she intended to time-travel that very night, the Bone Eater's Well's power was being…temperamental to say the least.

"Just work, damn you! Rragh!" She huffed. "Where's a DeLorean or Tardis when you need one?"

Despite Sesshoumaru's assurance that she could time travel on her own, Kagome had slipped inside the old Well House. Having jumped and met no success a grand total of 10 times, she finally threw up her hands and stalked from the small building.

The moon hung within the sky, like a luminous reminder of who she was doing this for. Kagome stopped mid-step. Exhaling, she stood for a moment in the garden.

If she wanted to get serious about this, 10 times wasn't going to cut it. Spinning on her heel, Kagome made to march right back to the Well House, when her foot snagged on a hose pipe.

Stumbling, she let out a yelp, catching herself before falling. Glaring at the offending hose, her ire slowly simmered down.

Wait…water.

"Oi, what are you doing, idiot?" A voice close by grumbled.

Kagome glanced over at the Goshinboku, spying Inuyasha leaning against its trunk.

"I'm about to time travel. Are you coming with?"

"Feh, I don't see no item on ya."

"Not using one this time. Ready for my secret technique?" She grinned, jogging over to the tap at the side of the house. "Let there be water!" Kagome made an exaggerated flourish with her hand the moment she turned it, causing water to shoot out from the hose like a geyser.

Gold eyes cut to the sky. "Big deal."

"You're extra grumbly today. C'mon, last chance to go back with me~ we'll possibly see Lady Kimi and General Kaito?" She tried to tempt. She'd wanted to meet them in the present too, but Sesshoumaru had mentioned 'baby steps.'

When Inuyasha made no move to approach, Kagome's brows pulled together but decided to leave him be. Lifting the hose over her head, she sprayed herself with a loud squeal.

Raising reiki on her skin, she tried to remember the feeling of passing through the well. Flowing through the heavy, indescribable waters of Time.

With a gasp, she found herself dropping through the puddle at her feet. Raising her head as she disappeared into the water, Kagome's eyes widened, finding Inuyasha's face closer than expected, sinking in with her. He grabbed hold of her wrist and kicked with her when they were submerged, fighting the current.

Kagome glanced around in the deep pink waters, her lungs protesting. The space they occupied looked darker than usual, as though tainted by indecision. Trying to focus, blue eyes slid shut, despite Inuyasha's panic.

Picturing Sesshoumaru's true form and his injuries, Kagome then forced the image of Kouga into her mind, coupling the memories together.

Feeling a frantic pat on her shoulder, Kagome opened her eyes. Inuyasha glared, pointing up above them at the disk of light that had appeared.

Nodding, she grabbed hold of him as he swam up through the waters, able to swim with greater speed and power than her.

Breaking the surface of the water, Kagome gasped, sucking in grateful gulps of air. Inuyasha coughed, spitting the moisture from his mouth.

"Ach- gn…w-what the hell? Why's it taste like salt?"

Hearing the gentle crash of waves and feeling the tide lulling them, Kagome raised her head. "Looks like Sesshoumaru's at the beach this time," she murmured.

The coast lay quiet and undisturbed, but various huts beyond it caught her attention.

"And he's not alone. I wonder if Kouga is around."

"Tch I hope not," Inuyasha muttered, ears pricking. "Hey…doesn't this place look familiar to you?"

"No?"

He stared at the coast, frowning slightly. "Take another look," he muttered. "We're at Shiori's village."

#sesskag #sesshoumaru x kagome #sesskag fanfiction #kagome higurashi #inuyasha fanfiction #sesshomaru

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vannahfanfics · 5 years

Text

An Understanding Part II

Before you read, here’s Part I!

Category: Romantic Fluff

Fandom: Fullmetal Alchemist

Characters: Roy Mustang and Riza Hawkeye

“Yes. What a shame that would be,” Roy agreed as he smirked at her and grabbed the wine bottle by the neck. Riza felt her lips curl into the tiniest of smiles as she rose from the chair to walk over to one of her cabinet drawers, pulling it open to rifle through the contents in search of a cork remover. She retrieved the small device and tossed it over to the waiting man, who deftly caught it and began working away at the cork while Riza crossed the kitchen to grab two wine glasses from a nearby cabinet. She frowned when she realized she had placed them in the back of the top shelf, a consequence of not drinking wine too terribly often. She sighed under her breath and stood up on her tip-toes, pushing glasses aside as she struggled to reach the pair of glasses in the back of the cabinet. She unconsciously placed the hand of her injured arm onto the counter and out her weight on it, and immediately a spasm of pain wracked her entire side. She dropped down onto the flats of her feet, clenching her teeth as she waited for the fiery pain to subside.

“You really are determined to re-open that wound, aren’t you?” came a small sigh from behind her. She went red as she realized that Roy was standing close behind her, so close in fact that he brushed against her as he reached up above her head to easily retrieve the two wine glasses from the back of the cabinet. He seemed unperturbed at the proximity, however. “Really. You could have just asked for help,” he tutted, the wine glasses clinking in his hand as he shut the cabinet door and glanced down at her. Riza pursed her lips slightly and looked away, mostly so he could not see her blushing.

“I’m not used to having a gunshot wound, you know. I just wasn’t thinking about it,” she huffed and grabbed the wine glasses out of his hand. He raided an eyebrow at her as she pushed past him to return to the table and fill the wine glasses. She glanced over her shoulder, pausing to push her loose blonde hair behind her ear. “Well? Are you going to just stand there?” She frowned at him. He was staring at her funny, but before she could ask, he regained his normal, stoic composure and crossed the small room to join her at the table. Riza eased herself down into the chair and brought the wine glass to her lips, staring thoughtfully out the window at the night sky as she sipped at the alcohol. She couldn’t help but smile when she remembered the fact that Roy bought it especially for her, even keeping in mind what her favorite brand was.

“I wonder how the Elric brothers are doing,” he cut in suddenly, and she turned back to him to find him staring down into the contents of the wine glass, swirling the same liquid around with a slightly sad look.

“They’re tough boys,” Riza remarked as she leaned back into the chair. “I’m sure they’re doing quite well. They’re determined to get their bodies back.” She paused for a moment, cocking her head to the side slightly as a smile came to her lips. “I wonder what they would think about you sitting here worrying about them,” she mused, and he looked up at her in mild irritation.

“I’m not worried,” he snorted, but his defensiveness was a perfect indicator for otherwise. “I know they’re tough. They’re also reckless and attract trouble, so I just-"

“Worry?” She laughed and sipped playfully at the wine. She had caught him in the lie, and he just glared at her for a second before throwing up a hand in defeat and taking a long drink of the wine. She chuckled softly. As much as he hated it, she could read him like a book; he couldn’t get anything past her. Though he would never admit it, especially to Edward Elric, he cared about the young boys far more than a superior should. How could he not? They had come upon them after such a terrible, horrible incident, at their very lowest. Children should not suffer that way, she thought as she gazed thoughtfully at Roy. Though he was ready to employ them as child soldiers, he knows this.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” Roy asked gruffly as he grabbed the wine bottle to pour himself another glass. Riza flushed pink, mildly embarrassed to have been caught staring.

“I was just thinking, that’s all,” she answered evasively as she finished off her glass. Roy motioned for her to hold it out, and he poured another healthy dose of the alcohol into it. He just sniffed disdainfully at her answer before sipping at the wine again, leaning back on two legs of the chair as he glanced out of the window.

“… You know who was fun to drink with back in the day?” he smiled. “Hughes.”

“Mm. You and him would sit in the tents getting drunk on bourbon and whiskey, and the like,” she recalled with a small nod. “And Armstrong would scold you for it when he caught you, and then you would all get into a squabble and trash half the camp,” she added with a chuckle after Roy’s expression turned from nostalgic to uncomfortable.

“Were we really that rowdy?” he frowned as he scratched the back of his head. Riza looked down into the wine, swishing it a little as images of the old days in the war danced in the dark, reddish-purple depths. You'd all drink the pain away, she thought sadly. But it was never enough. Those scars won’t ever fade, no matter how much you try to drown them. She peered up at Roy through her eyelashes. It had been during the war that she had fallen in love with him, and sworn to protect him with her life. And here we are. I’m injured, and he’s here babysitting me, she thought with a slight pang of shame. She hastily downed the rest of the wine and refilled her glass, trying desperately to shut out such negative thoughts. “What are you thinking about now?” Roy asked her abruptly with a smirk, and she blinked at him in confusion. “You were staring at me again. Or this time, was it just my rugged good looks?” he joked.

“Please,” she snorted. “Don’t flatter yourself. The wine is going to your head already.” Roy laughed at that, and she couldn’t help but smile. She liked him best when he was like this, without his inhibitions and the propriety of military conversations, free to laugh and smile. He laughed for a minute or two before sighing contentedly and rocking back and forth in the chair, staring out into space as he pondered whatever was on his mind.

“I didn’t realize how much I needed this,” he admitted quietly. He ran a hair through his midnight-black hair, and Riza blinked at him as she set the wine glass down on the table. “All I think about is work. Even when I’m at home,” he frowned and tapped his temple sadly. She couldn’t blame him. In their line of work, they say the worst things, the scum of humanity- and the border between them and those kind was blurry. They saw and did the kinds of things that weighed heavily on people's shoulders. Even a proud, capable man like Roy Mustang would feel the pressure at the end of the day, when he was alone with his thoughts.

“Changing the world isn’t an easy thing,” she remarked casually, leaning forward and resting her arm on the table. She was consciously aware that their hands were separated by a few centimeters. “It's a little easier when you have good friends, though,” she added with a small smile. Perhaps the alcohol made her bold, but she reached out and gently enclosed his hand with hers, giving it a reassuring squeeze. Roy looked down at their joined hands, quiet. Thinking she may have made him uncomfortable, she attempted to retreat, but found that he tightened his grip and would not let her pull away. After a few tense seconds, he reluctantly relinquished his hold and allowed her to pull her hand back down to her lap. She regretted it slightly as she felt his warmth fade, and Roy said nothing, only downed the rest of the glass and poured himself another. Together, they had already worked their way through half of the bottle.

“Yeah. You’re right,” he smiled after a second, and she was relieved to see that he looked more at ease now. I want to help him in any way I can, she thought happily.

Suddenly, they both jumped as they heard the rapid skittering of paws on the wooden floor, and they turned toward the entryway just in time to see a very excited Black Hayate running towards then with a rapidly wagging tail and his tongue hanging out of his mouth. He bypassed Riza and bee-lined for Roy, jumping up into his lap and licking his face happily. Riza couldn’t help but snort with laughter at the comical scene of the serious man attempting to combat the dog's shower of affections.

“Black Hayate, down,” she commanded after a fit of giggles, and rose to her feet. As she did so, however, she felt the entire world lurch under her feet, and she grabbed onto the chair for support. Suddenly, she felt dizzy, and breathless. What? I can take much more alcohol than that. What’s wrong with me? She thought in slight panic.

“I think that’s enough wine for tonight,” Roy frowned, and ceased trying to be gentle with the dog. He pushed him roughly off of him and stood up quickly as Riza wobbled unsteadily over to the counter, fumbling for a glass to try and get herself some water in the hopes it would sober her up. Roy caught her groping hand, making her stop to look up at him. He has that worried look on his face again, she realized. Like when he was looking at my wound…

“I-I don’t get it,” she stammered as she turned around to lean against the counter while Roy fetched her a glass of water.

“You lost a good amount of blood,” he noted as he gently wrapped her hands securely around a cup of water. She brought it to her mouth to find that her hands were shaking violently. “The wine may have brought on a fit of something like anemia,” he hypothesized with a frown. Riza said nothing, only tried to gulp down the water without spilling it all over herself. Black Hayate whined as he paced around her feet and butted her legs with his head. As she drank the water, she felt the dizziness subside slightly, but she suddenly felt exhausted and weak.

“Ah… Thanks… Well, I ruined a fun time,” she mused with a strained smile. In truth, she was quite upset for two reasons; one, she hated to be seen as weak, especially in front of Roy, and two, she didn’t want the night to end quite yet. Her body had other plans, however, and as she tried to straighten up she wobbled precariously and grabbed onto the closest thing to her for support- which happened to be Roy.

He blinked down at her as her hand gripped the fabric of his shirt tightly, and she leaned against his broad chest. As soon as she realized what she had done, she hastily retreated to the safety of the counter, trying her best not to turn red. “Sorry,” she mumbled. Ugh. Look at me. I’m a mess. Is this how a Lieutenant should act? She thought in frustration. “I had better get to bed. You can let yourself out, right?” She told him without meeting his gaze, turning her back to him to begin shuffling across the room, leaning against the counter and eventually the kitchen wall to guide her. Black Hayate padded along beside her, offering a steadying bump whenever she stumbled.

Suddenly, her feet gave out from under her, and she found herself being held snugly in Roy's arms. “Wh-what the hell are you doing?” She cried in alarm, attempting to get down.

“Hold still, will you?” he whined down at her, seemingly completely unperturbed as he began carrying the woman across the house. Riza was forced to shut her mouth and resign herself to the awkward situation, and she groaned slightly as she settled into his arms. She was painfully aware of his muscles beneath his shirt. I am shameless, she thought guiltily. Roy said nothing as he bore her to the bedroom, pausing to flip on the light before carrying her over to the bed and gently lowering her onto the mattress. He leaned over her for a second, the sighed deeply. “You don’t have to put on a front, you know. It’s okay to rely on me sometimes,” he added after a moment, not meeting her eyes. Roy… she thought as her heart fluttered slightly. He smiled slightly up at her, that cocky little smile she loved. Does he know the things he does to me? She thought as she stared straight-faced down at him, but her heart was pounding. Their faces were close. Definitely close enough to kiss. She could, if she wanted to; unconsciously, she was leaning forward, all her will bent on him.

Then Black Hayate jumped on the bed and knocked her onto her back.

“Ow… I’m fine. I’m fine!” she groaned as she dog licked her face excessively, and after a minute of her batting lightly at his face, he settled down and curled up at the foot of the bed. Riza didn’t even bother to sit up, just laid there on her back as she regretted that the situation hadn’t come to pass and scolded herself for even attempted it. Roy cleared his throat, and she turned her head to look up at him.

“Well. I’ll let myself out,” he said tersely, and as he turned his back to her, before she could stop herself her hand shot out to grab the hem of his shirt.

“Stay,” she blurted. He looked over his shoulder at her, and expression of surprise on his face. “You said I could rely on you, right?” She continued quietly. “So stay.” I don’t want to be without you tonight. Perhaps she was needy for that, or the alcohol had gone straight to her head, but right now she wanted nothing more than his presence beside her. She tightened her grip on the hem of his shirt, and he stared down at her for a moment before turning his face to the door. He then sighed deeply and rubbed the back of his neck.

“Okay. Okay, I’ll stay,” he agreed and clapped his hands together awkwardly. She could see the tenseness in his body disappear, though, as he walked around the side of the bed to flop down on the mattress beside her. “Probably shouldn’t be walking home drunk anyway,” he chuckled as he reached down to scratch Black Hayate’s head. Roy wasn’t even close to being inebriated, she knew that, but still she was grateful for him trying to make her feel less guilty for burdening him with her own weakness. He laced his fingers together and rested them on his stomach as Riza sat up to reach above her head and pull the light switch on the overhead fan. As she laid back down, Roy threw the comforter over her, and she gratefully pulled the blanket around herself while he contented himself with the bedsheet. Black Hayate wriggled his way between them, as if proclaiming himself as a barrier; still, knowing Roy was close enough to reach out and touch made her heart race. “Hey,” he murmured, and she felt him shift onto his side and could feel him staring at her in the dark.

“What?” She asked quietly, not wanting to speak too loud in case her voice shook.

“Promise me you won’t get hurt again,” he murmured. Riza took a small breath, then smiled coyly.

“I can’t promise that, sir,” she responded with a breathy chuckle. “I can’t help it when you get yourself into trouble all the time. It’s like looking after a third Elric,” she teased, but the jokes were only to cover up her trembling hands and racing heart. Roy was silent for a second, and then he huffed and rolled onto his other side.

“Jeez. No need to insult me,” he complained loudly, but she could hear the teasing in his voice. “… Fine then. Then promise me that you'll rely on me more?” he asked her, his voice low. Riza smiled as her eyes drifted closed, and she nodded slowly.

“That I can do, sir,” she answered as his hand slipped through the blankets to hold hers.

That I can do.

Maybe they weren’t vocal about their feelings, but they knew they were there. She could feel all the words left unspoken as he held her hand in silence, and a deep understanding settled between them as they lay their side by side. Someday, I’ll tell you, and you’ll tell me. For now, there’s too much to be done, she promised him as she felt his breathing settle into a slow and steady rhythm. One day, when you set wrongs right, and finally achieve your dream.

I’ll be there, right by your side, until that day. You can rely on me.

Just like I can rely on you, Roy.

A smile formed on her face as she drifted off to sleep, lulled by the warmth of the man beside her.

Enjoy this oneshot? Feel free to peruse my Table of Contents!

#fullmetal alchemist #fma #fmab #fullmetal alchemist brotherhood #romance #fluff #cutesy #oneshot #oneshot collection #fanfic #fanfics #fanfiction #royai #royza #hawkstang #rizaxroy #royxriza #riza hawkeye #roy mustang

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scribblescrabblebabble · 5 years

Text

RoyEd Week 2k19 Day 6!

Title: Seven(?) Days

Rating: T+

Relationships: Roy Mustang/ Edward Elric; Gracia Hughes/Maes Hughes

Chapter: Day 6- Wait for me

Cross- Posted on AO3 and Fanfic.net links- AO3 fanfic.net

Best quality reading will be through the links, not on Tumblr itself because I’m too lazy to do italics and shit right now. For @royedweek2019 ‘s RoyEd Week!

This is a prompt from day 5, but lets ignore that hehehe.... Hughes lives! AU

--------------------------------------

A long time ago, Trisha Elric had told her sons that, “Good will come to those who wait,”. It was a common phrase, and she had meant this to mean more on the lines of “wait your turn” and “don’t skip in line” and that sort of thing.

Ed mused on his mother’s advice. He noted wryly that waiting hadn’t done her much good at all- it probably did her a whole world of bad, in fact. He never understood why she waited so dutifully. Never, that is, until now. As he looked upon his garden that Friday evening, the alchemist realized that he, unexpectedly, took after his mother in this way.

----~----

Ed awoke on Saturday two hours after he fell asleep; his alarm for 6:00 had yet to ring. Even in his sleep Ed had been restless, as the blankets were twisted at the bottom of the bed, and his pillow lay a few feet from his dresser across the room. In an attempt to calm his nerves, Ed took a long shower and, unable to find a second towel, called Winry with his hair dripping all over the office rug.

As he waited for his sister-in-law to answer, Ed looked out upon the back yard in the office window, dewy and colorful in the early spring sunrise. Maybe he’d pick a few of the flowers to spruce up the house a little bit- was that too cheesy?

Winry’s tired voice greeted him at last, “Hello?”

“Heya Win.” Ed replied, followed by what he guessed to be a sigh.

“Edward, the sun is barely up! What could you possibly need from me? If it’s an emergency I’m sure there are people who live closer to you to call.”

He chuckled a little guiltily, “Sorry Win, ‘M just trying to kill some time until 10:00. I’m too jittery to get anything productive done.”

Winry gasped, “Oh, is today the day?”

Ed nodded, knowing she couldn’t see, “It’s the day.”

--~--

The past two years had been a long string of going to work at the lab or in the office with Team Mustang, reading the paper, and anxiously awaiting the rare phone call from Al or Roy. To both of their credit, they called whenever possible, but Al was very busy with his teaching job and helping Winry with their young daughter, and Roy…

Roy was never around phones much, Ed guessed.

The blonde currently slouched in his office chair, doodling on a spare sheet of paper in lieu of alphabetizing the sources for his latest compilation of research. Riza looked at him reproachfully from her own desk across the room until he sighed and got back to work, balling up the spare paper and throwing it into the bin. Even then, it took him a minute to focus enough to actually comprehend the words he was trying to sort.

‘Abrams, Addison, Anderson, Amaryllis… wait no, m before n… shit this is dull, I need to get out of here.’ He pushed himself up and muttered about an early lunch break before he strode out of the large room. He looked disdainfully at the coffee machine, before deciding a quick stop by a café would do him better than the bitter crap in the office.

He hadn’t been sleeping well, even worse than he usually tended to, and it was only partially because of the workload regarding his research.

Outside, the air smelt of rain, and Ed regretted not taking an umbrella or something with him when he left (Riza would give him an earful if he came back dripping all over the freshly polished floors). The old coffee shop stood in a quaint corner, rather out of place in the midst of military office buildings, yet wholly welcomed by the lot. Ed knew the barista, Louise, well, and when he walked in she smiled, “Morning, Major! Usual?”

“Please.” Ed sighed, giving her a wad of cash, insisting she keep the change because he was too lazy to try and count it out, and sitting at a small two-person table towards the back of the building. He hadn’t brought any work with him, so while he waited, the alchemist kind of dazed out, just letting the ambiance of the little shop clam his nerves a bit.

A familiar female voice interrupted his tranquil state, “Edward?” He looked up in surprise, coming face-to-face with Rose’s friendly smile. He moved to stand and greet the young woman, but she motioned for him to remain seated, and took the chair across from him.

“Rose, what brings you to Central?” Ed asked curiously.

“Winry asked me to come drop off some parts with clients she has over here. And to check up on you, of course.” The Leorian responded, “Speaking of which, Edward, you look absolutely tragic!”

Ed was about to retort, but Louise came to the table with his usual coffee and sandwich. He thanked her, and took a large bite of his food before continuing where he was interrupted, “I do not look tragic, Rose, you’re being dramatic.”

“Did you sleep at all last night?”

“Uhh…”

Ed knew Rose wasn’t nagging just to be annoying, as the evident worry in her eyes was practically palpable. He only assumed everyone else back in Resembool would have the same expression if they saw him like this. This thought sent an arrow of guilt into his stomach, but he suppressed it quickly, changing the topic of their conversation, “Well, they say the war’s dying down a bit in the east. Some Ishvallan insurgent groups and all of the Southeastern front are still neck-in-neck, but that’s a good sign, right?”

Rose gave him a very unimpressed look, knowing full well what he was doing. She took to bait, however, to appease him, “Yeah, I heard the Fürher’s been trying to start peace negotiations, futile as it may seem. Have they begun sending soldiers home yet?”

Ed nodded with a small frown, “Hawkeye said they’re releasing some who have families and stuff to tend to at home: pregnant wives, senile grandparents, and the like. Just means the non-priority soldiers’ll have to stay out longer.”

Rose frowned as well, “Not necessarily. If there’s less conflict, then they don’t need as much workforce out there, you know?”

“I guess.” He sighed.

Rose rolled her eyes, “I know what this is about, Edward. He’ll be back soon.”

“What, did he tell you? ‘Cuz the certainly didn’t tell me.”

Rose looked cross, “He’s fighting! Not getting any response is better than a letter saying he’s dead! Do you really think digging a pity hole is going to help the situation?”

Ed looked at her angrily, then his expression dropped as he saw then emotion on her own face. He remembered the Rose of eight years previous, broken in the midst of a war, yet not fallen prey to self-pity. Sure, she had been manipulated by Dante, but everything she did was for a good greater than herself. Settling in Resembool, even, was for her son to be happy, and she took her present with such grace it was ridiculous.

Ed looked to his plate and quietly admitted, “It’s just… stressful, not knowing. God, I wish I knew how he’s doing, Rose.”

She smiled, “I know, it’s the worst. But you know what?”

“What?” Ed asked around another bite of this lunch.

“When you do find out, it’ll be worth the wait.” She stood up, “I’ve got to deliver these parts, but I’ll swing by your place tonight. We can make some dinner or something, okay?”

Ed smiled at her, “That sounds great. I’ll see ya then.”

“See ya!” She turned out the door. Ed sat at the table, alone again. Now, however, the thought of returning to his list of names wasn’t so daunting, especially with the promise of Rose’s divine cooking in his future. He took his time finishing the sandwich, and took his to-go cup of coffee back to the office with him.

Riza was the first to acknowledge Ed as he walked in, placing his cup on his desk and making as if to sit down. She held a little orange envelope out to Ed from her desk, and Ed quickly took the telegram. Seeign Riza’s small smile, he had an inkling who it could be from.

“Excuse me.” He muttered, taking the envelope into the long-closed room to his right, Roy’s private office. He pushed down the sadness at the empty desk and lack of paper heaps set out to be avoided, sitting hard on one of the large office chairs, hands shaking a bit as he opened up the folded paper. A smaller slip of paper came out, and Ed read the words greedily.

‘Coming home Oct 16, 10:00. Central West Station.

I have a surprise. Love you more than I can say.

-Roy’

--~--

After Winry hung up, stating that Trisha had awoken and needed ‘Mama time’, Ed was at a loss for what to do. He trudged back to the bedroom and changed into his day clothes (no point in pretending he may go back to nap). He threw his old clothes into the laundry basket and decided, on a whim, to change out the bedsheets and throw the old ones in with his dirty clothes. That started, Ed began obsessively cleaning the house- once the laundry was piled up, a table looked dusty, then the oven needed a wipe down, and he had to cook his own breakfast so there would be dishes, and so on, until before he knew it, the clock struck 7:00 and the phone rang.

Ed threw down the dish rag, seemingly broken from his mindless work trance, and retreated back to the office to answer it. This time, Gracia’s voice greeted him.

“Edward? How’re you doing?”

Ed sighed, but it came out as more of an exasperated laugh, “Just barely keeping it together, I guess! Trying to find something to do until I can go down to the station.”

Gracia laughed as well, sounding just as tired as he felt, “I understand the feeling. Elicia and I’ve been up for hours!”

“Have you talked to Maes?” He hoped he didn’t sound too desperate, but that hope was fairly fleeting.

“Not for about two weeks, but I haven’t heard from anyone else about him so that’s a plus, yeah?”

Ed didn’t want to tell Gracia that to him it absolutely wasn’t a plus, so he just hummed in agreement, “Roy hasn’t called or anything since the telegram. I guess we’ll see what that means today.”

“have you thought about what that surprise could be?”

“Yeah, probably too much.” Ed laughed a bit, “It’s making me even more anxious, somehow.”

Gracia laughed lightly, “Hey, so I called to ask if you wanted me to bring some lunch to the station for you. I’m already bringing some for Elicia so it’s not a big deal.”

“No thanks, I can’t eat right now.” Ed politely refused. Gracia seemed to understand, for she didn’t push the matter.

They talked lightly until Gracia hung up (something about an oven or something like that). The blonde stood in the study, anxious and with nothing to do for the next three hours.

--~--

Ed watched the tracks obsessively. He knew he’d definitely know when the train came to view, but he’d grown so anxious and excited he couldn’t do much more than sit and stare. Gracia sat beside him, reading the paper with Elicia working through a novel beside her. She seemed very composed and must make Ed look like an absolute wreck in comparison. Her day dress looked very clean and neat, whereas Ed had barely the patience to bother fully buttoning his own shirt.

Elicia noticed the train first, dropping her book and standing quickly, “Mom, Ed, I heard a whistle!” The eleven-year-old bounced excitedly as the train slowly screeched into the station. Ed felt his nerves burn deep in his abdomen, and he almost felt sick as he stood with the woman and girl, watching the train cars take far too long to slow down. Inside the train, every window was filled with blue-capped soldiers, their faces practically pressed to the glass, much like small children, in search of their loved ones. Several groups in front of Ed jumped and waved, their husbands or wives or whatever identified out of the many faces in the vehicle.

Finally, the train stopped, and the soldiers were let off one-by-one, each saluting their superiors at the doors before they were set free to find their families. Ed anxiously stood about the growing crowd of soldiers.

Hughes was the first out of the two, happily saluting his superior and running straight to Gracia, having seen her already from inside the train. HE managed to lift and spin both Gracia and Elicia at one time, an all-around bubble of joy. Seeing Ed, he shot the blonde a broad, knowing smile. After three more men, Ed finally, finally, spotted Roy. He boarded off the train, saluted, and scanned the crowd hopefully.

His eyes found Ed the moment the blonde’s feet began to move and was thusly prepared for Ed’s weight as he ran full-force into Roy’s arms. They didn’t talk for a short time, too busy trying to get each other as close as possible, as if to make up for the lost time. Then, Ed leaned back to look over the other, checking for injury.

Roy laughed, and it sounded pretty close to perfect, “I’m not hurt, Ed.”

Ed laughed too, finding his emotions burst out with his smile, “I had to make sure, you haven’t really contacted me aside from a single telegram in-“

He fell quiet, as suddenly Roy’s mouth was in the way and he was too busy kissing him back to continue his protest. “I’m sorry,” he murmured as they parted.

Ed sighed for dramatic effect, “I think I can excuse it this one time. Besides, I believe there was a surprise I was promised?”

Roy’s smile brightened, if that was possible, and he quickly looked to the superior officer at the door and back to Ed, “Of course! They should be off of the train soon; had to have a double check.”

“They?” Ed repeated, confused. Roy just smiled and took Ed’s hand, leading them to the door of the train. Looking back, Ed could spot Maes with a devilishly gleeful look, Elicia jumping around excitedly, and Gracia looking at he and Roy with a hand over her mouth. “Roy, what’s going on?” Ed asked.

They reached the doors as the superior officer helped out the last of the ensemble, two very shaken looking Ishvallan children, a boy and a girl. If Ed had to chance a guess, he’d peg them at around two or three years old. They looked around, helplessly confused, and Ed realized with a sinking feeling in his gut that their parents weren’t with them. They didn’t have anyone to meet at this station. Except…

They noticed Roy, and walked quickly in a beeline to him. As they reached the couple, the children seemed to realize that Roy had a companion and slowed shyly. The older man chuckled and squatted down to be eye-level with the two, “Molly, Gregory, this is Ed. He’s my husband.” He looked up at Ed, motioning for Ed to join him on the ground. He did, and the children seemed to look at him curiously. Roy continued, “Ed, this is Molly, and this is Gregory. Their parents asked me to… to take good care of them.” The blonde’s heart stung at the visible pain in Roy’s eye from a memory he was sure to learn of later.

He also saw a bit of uncertainty in his husband’s face. He realized that he’s been awfully non-responsive to the two so far, and Roy was essentially bringing kids into the complicated equation of their relationship. Smiling, Ed squeezed Roy’s hand affirmatively.

“Molly and Greg? Well, this is a surprise!” Roy’s grin lost it’s callous edge, seeing Ed’s positivity, and he pulled the both of them up to their original standing position.

Ed turned to the little kids, “We’ll make sure to take great care of you. I’m not very good at doing things halfway.”

Molly nodded and replied, “kay,”.

“You alk-mee too?” Gregory asked, hiding a bit behind his sister.

“A-alchemy? Yeah, I’m an alchemist.”

Roy muttered, “Greg’s blown away by alchemy. Thinks it’s the coolest thing he’s ever seen.”

Ed grinned broadly, “Well, that’s good! Cuz you’re gonna be around a lot of alchemy, right?”

The little boy’s eye sparkled, “Ya!”

Roy proffered the hand not already taken by Ed, which Molly took gladly. Greg was hand-in-hand with Molly as Roy led the little pack towards the Hughes’s, Gracia looking like she might cry, and Elicia already running to give her Uncle Roy a big welcome hug.

Ed looked back at the two kids- technically his two kids. ‘Oh, fuck I’ve got kids!’ he thought, finding himself increasingly excited about the prospect. Plus, if these kids already thought alchemy was awesome, what could possibly go wrong?

#royed #safe RoyEd #RoyEdweek2019 #royedweek #wartime romance AU #kid fic

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egoiistas · 5 years

Note

hear me out: Havoc takes Riza on a date.

@rizahawkaye made me do this, she bent my arm until i cried to write this. Biggest thanks to @lonepiper5758 for looking over this !

HavocaiWords: Rated T for very nuanced themes.

A new one joins the ranks.

At Mustang’s behest, sharpshooter Jean Havoc joins the team and changes the dynamic of their barely amicable, two person unit like the crack of the rifle. A loud one that brings out the boisterous side to Mustang they’ve both long forgotten. He sings terribly off-tune, uncaring that it is, and walks around heavy-footed with a cloud of smoke wafting in his general vicinity. He stands tall and proud, and speaks with a lilt from the countryside that, with a crinkle of her nose, reminds her of her old home. His hair looks like he grabbed a handful of hay and slapped it on right above his hairline. Secretly, this tickles Riza the most.

With his guns and his drawl, the man is a walking stereotype.

And yet, Riza indulges in his eyes. For a flutter of a second, they’d catch her off guard; somewhat mesmerized with how they reflected like the surface of still waters. Unassuming and clear. Vibrant, but they weren’t burning with life or ambitions or broken promises. They didn’t ignite her with ire or rekindle a yearning. The calming effect on her was strange, invigorating. Refreshing that she’d be able to look into a man’s eyes and not walk away with a whirlwind of emotions.

He isn’t the brightest, Jean admits openly to her on the shooting grounds. But that he makes up for it in intuition. Just knowing when things are right and when they aren’t right, he says.

Is that right, she intones, focused with restocking a clip. Riza, wholly unaware to his body language, doesn’t even look at the smug look on his face, the quirk on his lip, when he declares that she wants to go onto a date with him as his example.

Her finger slips. The bullet clatters on the wooden table and it echoes like the nerves rattling in her head, suddenly frayed. Riza slaps it down with her hand.

That she’d like a nice, simple dinner and good conversation. Nothing extravagant. With a nice coffee and dessert to top it off. Maybe a kiss on the cheek, because she looks old fashioned. Also the little twang in her voice isn’t as gone as she likes to think.

Riza frowns, because that does sound nice and because that twang is gone. No. Wait. She’s never had that twang.

He leans into the table separating them just as she props the rifle up. Those blue eyes shine just looking at her, suddenly serious. It dawns on Riza what gave her away. Earnestly, he says, he can’t promise good conversation, but he can sure make a fool of himself trying.

A chill tickles the back of her neck. She wants to smile from such a candid comment, so honest and simple. Uncomplicated. But that’d remove her from what she was trying to become, as if smiling would render her vulnerable. That’s absurd she thought. What’s even more absurd is that she agreed; his intuition had been correct. She made herself obvious and he caught her, so the answer is yes.

He celebrates like a little boy, pounding a fist on the table and saying a country phrase that is too embarrassing to commit to memory. Riza’s lips curl inward, trapping them in between her teeth. She stops herself from laughing at such a boyish display as if the joy of a simple response was contagious.

Then he tells her there are three conditions. Her eyebrow raises with suspicion.

One index finger. No talk of work. A middle finger. No mentions of superiors. A ring finger. And they both have to look darling.

She can agree to that, Riza says.

He warned her about making a fool of himself and make a fool of himself he did. An average date for an average man. In her mind, she thought about how mean-spirited it was to think about how nothing about him is represented to an exceptional degree. Had she stayed in her father’s manor, she’d marry a man just like him, give him children. Die old.

Mustang’s interest in him was well-spotted: He’s good company and a greater asset on the field. Probably follows directions well, but doesn’t give them.

The streets of East City welcome the rain during their walk back and then it pours. She eyes the makeshift rivers just outside the curb of the sidewalk. The deluge takes every stray leaf with it. Every thread of her Sunday best is drenched. Tendrils of hair stick to her face but she’s unbothered and especially relieved when he doesn’t coddle her about it. Then, something about as strange as indulging in someone eyes happens as the fabric sticks to him like second skin and his hair flattens to look like something less ludicrous.

They approach the front of her building and he tells her they’ll get the sweets next time, when it isn’t raining farm animal out here. He shrugs timidly. Maybe a kiss on the cheek then too, he says, scratching his cheek, eye darted away in embarrassment.

Riza studies him and how the water ran in rivulets off him. The rain hits her head, almost rhythmically to a tune so foreign she blinks it out of her eyes. She confesses she isn’t old fashioned enough as he’d like to think to particularly care for kisses on the cheek.

But...

She has coffee and maybe some stale pastries in her cupboards, if he’d like to join her upstairs. Maybe a cozier reprieve from the rain to delay this denouement.

He pauses and narrows his eyes until the lamplight behind him illuminates. Those are some big words, Jean says. But he can agree to that.

#havocai #jean havoc #riza hawkeye #fma #concrit welcome #honestly ty paula for giving me the.... courage #hahah is that strange to say #just feel like i havent genuinely written fanfic in a hot min #:p #*shine #dogpantry

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bleedingcoffee42 · 6 years

Text

Notorious AU- Part 2

Part 1 Guess who needs another WIP? ME.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Riza sat on the southbound train listening to the chatter of passengers, enjoying that none of the topics they were discussing had anything to do with her father. Even before the trial, the actions of her father had weighed on her and his paranoia had rubbed off on her as well. Little did she know that her observations of increased traffic on their road, more frequent deliveries and the occasional electrical oddities were legitimate. Now it all made sense and she hated to admit to herself that maybe Berthold Hawkeye was right about something: They were being watched. She felt eyes on her now, but not because someone was whispering about her. Roy Mustang was coming back with a drink and some sandwiches. “I thought you went to report in. If you told me you were going for food I would have given you an order.”

“I did.” Roy returned to his seat and gave Riza a ham sandwich and a cup of coffee. “However, we'll be at the border soon and it will take a while for them to go through passports, cargo and documents. I thought you might like a little something to tide you over until the next stop.”

She took the sandwich and toyed with the paper it was wrapped in. “Did you get a promotion for recruiting me? Perhaps hazard pay for getting in the car with a drunk driver?”

Roy tried not to smile. She was clever about how she indirectly asked for information and he appreciated it a little too much. “Actually...I got some news from home. Your father died. I'm sorry.”

Riza wasn't expecting that. All she could say was, “How?”

“According to the coroner he was a sick man.” Roy said and watched her face. “He was supposed to be on medication for that.”

“Medication that was provided for by his state health insurance.” She said softly. “He renounced all connections to the military, felt that the incentives he enjoyed were part of the reason he allowed himself to create what he did. At least that's what he told me. I just thought he was broke. I shouldn't be surprised.”

Roy watched her look away, look out the window at the changing scenery as the train traveled around a bend toward another country. “I will see to it that he has a funeral. If you need to...”

“He should be cremated.” She said matter-of-factly. “Buried in the ground of the country he betrayed, that doesn't seem right. His grave site will be desecrated and that would not be right to put my dead mother through that. No funeral. Everyone who knew him has already said goodbye.”

“I was asking what you needed, not him.” Roy said.

“I'm relieved I guess. I was so scared of him and his ideas. I never understood him. I couldn't understand his decision to betray his country, his family and his life's work the way he did. All he said was it was too dangerous and nobody should have it.” She looked back at Mustang who seemed genuine. She didn't know if that was an act, part of his job, but she just wanted someone to believe her. “He betrayed me because he dedicated himself to that work after my mother died and left me to raise myself. He chose that work over me, because it was so damned important, and then in the end...”

Roy watched her bite her lip, clearly realizing she had said too much. Then she looked out the window on the other side of the aisle as the train slowed and saw the beauty of the mountain range that was the southern border of Amestris. She leaned over the armrest to get a better view and he studied the curve of her jaw and the sheer beauty of her face and the glint in her eye as she saw the breathtaking view. He was going to have to keep reminding himself to choose work over her, because there was something about Riza Hawkeye that just took his breath away.

Xxxxxxxxxxx

“When are we going to find out what my country expects me to do for them?” Riza asked as she and Roy sat outside a busy bistro in a city called Ponte Vecchio in Aerugo. They had been here a week and she was getting anxious. Roy was the only person she knew here and she didn't know him at all. He was being very careful to stay professional, not divulge anything personal and keep an established distance.

“Unfortunately it's a waiting game.” Roy said as he looked at the morning news. “We won't know what our mission is until we see if you are contacted by the ex-state alchemists who sought refugee here.”

She watched him as he read the Aerugo newspaper, she was impressed at how fluent he was in the language when they arrived. One more thing she relied on him for. She leaned back in her chair and looked at him and shook her head. “What if you're the reason they aren't contacting me? You look like you're some kind of cop.”

Roy lifted his eyes to her, she wore that playful smile meant to break him down into a personable human. It bothered her she was at the disadvantage here, he couldn't blame her for trying to get something out of him. He wouldn't think much of her if she just accepted the situation and let some stranger put her life at risk without asking questions. “Really? The waitress seems to think we're a couple.”

“The waitress was feeling out the situation so she could hit on you.” Riza countered.

He went back to reading the paper. “I'm sure the manager at the hotel was doing the same when I asked for adjoining rooms and he tried to put you on a different floor.”

“Oh, so you aren't blind to it after all.” Riza said and leaned on the table. “What's the matter? You don't want to make that our cover story? You could be my secret lover who smuggled me out of the country.”

“That wouldn't work.” He said. They had considered it, well his partner had considered it. Maes always went for the fake married option.

“Why? Afraid you might fall in love with me?”

“That wouldn't be hard.” Roy didn't lift his eyes from the words in the paper. He wondered if she saw a weakness in him somewhere or if this was just another attempt to get the higher ground. He figured the statement wouldn't give an edge to either of them and would end the conversation. “If you're here with someone then you are less likely to be approached by this group. The whole angle of this mission is to show you as vulnerable, without a home or country. You become less likely to be turned if you have loyalties to someone, anyone, else. This group has welcomed fleeing alchemists with open arms, wooing them with security and promise of research funding. They need to see you as a victim of the government they turned against, then you'll be more inclined to see their cause as worthy enough to join.”

“So what are you then, if not my boyfriend?” Riza watched him closely.

“Your bodyguard.” He said firmly and looked up to see the amusement in her eyes.

“So...” Riza said as she played with her napkin. The truth finally came out. It always came back to her father in some way. “I have the money to hire you to protect me then? From the sale of that research?”

“That's the implication.” He said and she looked down at the table, something finally finding it's way past her armor.

“I didn't have the money to even pay for my father's cremation.” She said and looked up at him. She wondered if he asked about her wishes for her father's remains so the government could find out of there was a stash of money somewhere. They had to be plenty of people wondering where all that money went. Surely that research was worth a fortune, surely his life and loyalty had to be worth some vast amount. Surely.

“I took care of it.” Roy assured her.

Riza stared into his eyes, she had never had a problem holding a stare. “I believe you. I wish...you could believe me. I could use someone believing in me right now.”

“Do you think I would be here, in a foreign country that is aggressive towards our own, if I didn't completely believe in your abilities?”

“Believing in what someone is capable of doing, that's not believing in them.” She said and broke eye contact. “That leads to disbelief when they show you they are capable of things you never imagined they could be.”

Roy stood up and said, “Lets go back to the hotel.”

“Why?” She asked. “So you can call your contact and report you failed to extract my bank account number?”

“I think you need more details about this than I was allowed to give you.” He replied and took money out to pay the bill. He was going to catch hell for this, but he didn't care. He'd file it under 'managing the asset' or some other bullshit term. She needed a restoration of faith, he couldn't send her into this mission without the belief someone was watching her back. “So let's go back to your room where we have some privacy.”

She looked up at him and said, “Why?”

“I don't think this will work if I treat you like an asset.” Roy said and straightened his jacket as she stood and got her purse. “I think, we need to be partners.”

“Why?” She whispered.

“You ask too many questions.” He said and she narrowed her eyes at him, wondering if that was the reason or an admonishment.

#royai #fic #notorious AU

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fullmetalscullyy · 4 years

Text

the way it was - chapter 27

rated: m | warnings: no archive warning apply

read on ao3

1914

cross your heart and hope to die

promise me you'll never leave my side

“Roy –”

His eyes flashed as they jerked away from the door. His glare was intense and Riza felt taken aback by it, even though she knew it wasn’t directed at her. She couldn’t get over that burning hatred in his eyes for Bradley.

“You’re leaving.” It wasn’t even a question. Given the anger festering and rolling off Roy in waves, Riza didn’t think she’d be able to stop him even if she tried. She wanted to, just to give his body more time to recover, but the effort would be fruitless.

Roy’s hands clenched into fists by his side. They tightened their grip as he strode over to her with purpose. It looked like he was ready to walk out the door right that second. Roy against the world, blood still smeared on his abdomen and shirtless.

“How dare he –”

“Calm down.” Riza’s voice was as gentle as her touch. A hand was pressed to his cheek and the other moved to rest upon his bare chest, right above his heart. It beat furiously underneath her palm, speaking of his fury and indignation. His emotions were raging but it would do him no good to leave now, guns blazing, in a fit of rage. He would not win that battle.

Immediately, Roy stilled. Blinking, he looked down at her, as if suddenly breaking from a trance. His eyes closed for a second, giving himself a mental shake before opening them. In those dark orbs anger still festered, but it lurked behind his grim acceptance of her wish.

“Sorry.”

“It’s okay.”

“How dare he threaten you,” he seethed quietly. His hard stare was back on their door, jaw locking as he restrained himself.

“I thought it sounded like a threat too,” Riza admitted.

Her stomach turned at the thought because that meant they may be onto Roy and his mission to take Bradley down. With no way of being able to confirm if that were true or not, her unease skyrocketed. The memory of Bradley’s one eye on her, pinning her in place, made her skin crawl even more than it had before. She shuddered gently, and Roy noticed.

“I won’t let anything happen to you,” he promised vehemently. His head jerked, looking away from the door, so he could rest his determined gaze upon hers. His hands gripped her elbows securely.

Expression suddenly turning thoughtful, Roy cocked his head in thought while his posture relaxed. Riza could see the cogs working inside of his head, running a mile a minute. She could tell his thoughts were racing as he tried to come up with some kind of strategy or promise to her.

“Perhaps living with my mother for a bit –”

“Roy,” Riza snapped at him, her hands falling to her sides in indignation. He jumped, eyebrows tugging down into a frown. She wasn’t going to run away from him at a moment’s notice. If push came to shove, they’d get Mia out to Chris’, maybe, depending on how the situation evolved, but she wouldn’t abandon him. They wouldn’t abandon him. Especially not now.

“What?” His reply was curt, irritated that his train of thought had been interrupted.

“I won’t let anything happen to you either.”

Riza softened her tone and her shoulders, letting everything negative flow out of her in a breath. Although annoyed he’d jumped and taken such a large leap, it was because he was panicking. Not obviously, but she could feel the sweat on his palms and could see he was bristling with nervous energy. Roy may need action but that was not the correct course.

“I’m not going to leave you.”

“You should –”

“Oh –” Riza interrupted him but had to cut herself off before she really let her irritation show. She stepped back out of his hold and threw her hands up into the air to try to dispel her frustration. “Stop it. Maybe, Mia could go,” she relented, turning back to face him, “but that’s something we would discuss properly, and not in a fit of panic. We don’t even know what that conversation meant yet either,” she reminded him, “but I’m not going anywhere.”

He sighed in frustration. “Stubborn one, aren’t you?” He muttered it, narrowing his eyes, but Riza heard the affection in his tone.

“Of course,” she nodded, unashamed, “but so are you, remember?”

Another sigh left his body, his chest heaving as he inhaled, his exhale long and drawn out as he calmed himself.

“Together,” he confirmed. “We’ll discuss it together.”

“Of course we will.” Angling her head, Riza pecked his cheek. “Be safe going back out there,” she commanded, her tone becoming serious.

“Always.”

She raised a sardonic eyebrow at him. Recent events painted that promise as a lie.

“Listen,” he argued lightly, suddenly defensive, “I didn’t know Gluttony was going to turn himself into a black hole. None of us could have prepared for that, so technically,” he raised a finger into the air, “that wasn’t my fault.”

Riza patted the skin above his heart. “I… don’t even want to ask what that means. Just…” She sighed heavily, dropping her head. She didn’t know what to say. Every time she’d said goodbye to him today, it felt like she was saying goodbye forever and Riza hated it. Her stomach churned, almost painfully, like it did every other time, except this was worse. He would be walking into the belly of the beast, completely alone.

Before she could dwell for too long Roy’s fingers held her chin lightly, lifting her head back up to face him. Slowly, he lowered his head and pressed his lips against hers. His touch was light but Riza wanted more. As soon as she deepened the kiss, Roy responded, as if he’d been waiting on her to initiate it. His arms snaked around her back so he could pull her body as close to his as possible. It was difficult with her pregnant stomach, but Riza appreciated the gesture. Her hands gripped his shoulders tightly, nails biting into his skin in her desperation to have that closeness with him.

They parted, breathing heavily, foreheads resting together. If Riza could restrain him completely, she’d keep Roy here in this moment forever. She wouldn’t let him leave to go fight unknown by himself. It would have made her feel better if he’d take some back up, but it was late, and Roy wouldn’t call on his team at this hour for their support. Not that they would be able to do much anyway. If Bradley wanted a meeting with Roy, he would give him that, but Bradley would ensure it was private.

“I’ll always come back to you,” he promised. One arm was removed from her back and came to rest upon her stomach. “To all of you.”

“I know,” Riza nodded slowly so she didn’t jostle his head too much. Pulling back, she smiled up at him. “Do you want a ride to Command?”

Roy shook his head. “It’s late. You should get some sleep.”

“I love you.” She gave him a quick kiss before he could pull away from her completely to go and get ready to leave.

The bed was cold and empty without Roy. Riza tried to sleep, but it wouldn’t come. Her brain was whirring as she tossed and turned, unable to remove the sight of his scars from her mind’s eye. Her heart hurt for him. He must have been in so much pain after doing that to himself… A single tear rolled down her cheek as her eyelids fluttered closed.

Blearily, Riza’s eyes blinked awake at six o’clock. It arrived a lot quicker than expected. There was little light from outside, the turning of the seasons drawing out the nights to make them longer. A quiet groan left her throat as she blinked the sleep from her eyes, the lids feeling heavy and pained from lack of sleep. Her fingers found her forehead, rubbing it gently as she gave herself a few more minutes to relax before getting up.

Roy hadn’t come home through the night. Riza didn’t know what to expect when he left, but she’d hoped she’d at least see him in the morning. Her stomach twisted with worry. Rolling onto her back, Riza’s arm bumped against a pillow restricting her movements. It was Roy’s. She’d moved it in her sleep, probably to hug it against her. It wasn’t the first time she’d done so and wouldn’t be the last either. Subconsciously she’d clung to a poor substitute for her husband, but at least the smell of him was still on the fabric. It brought her a slight hint of peace.

Staring up at the ceiling, going over everything in her mind, Riza felt a flutter in her stomach. Blinking, she paused, the sensation halting her thought process. Then there was another. A smile spread across Riza’s face and a hand automatically moved to rest atop her stomach.

“Good morning to you too,” she whispered to their child, caressing her skin.

There was a tiny kick in response and Riza lay there for a few moments longer, enjoying the tiny movements. It helped calm her and soothe her worries for the moment.

She knew she needed to keep calm and level-headed for the baby, and for Roy’s sake too, but it was so hard. It was difficult not to worry when she couldn’t see him with her own eyes, protect him with her own hands, and watch his back like she’d promised she would. Increased stress and anxiety would not benefit their child in the slightest, but she also couldn’t let it go. Not when he was essentially being targeted by the head of the State Military and God knows what else.

Perhaps she should take up yoga. At least for a brief escape from her own mind.

Riza huffed at the idea. As if she had the time. With Mia at school during the day, all her time was taken up by doing coursework for her teaching degree. Now their daughter was older, Riza didn’t want to waste any time with Mia when she was home, so she made sure to try and complete everything necessary before Mia returned from school.

Pulling herself up from the bed, Riza busied herself and her mind with the preparations for the day. She could either be active or lie there and dwell on Roy’s unknown situation for hours.

“Morning Mum,” Mia greeted tiredly, joining Riza in the kitchen. A small hand rubbed at her eyes as Hayate padded to wait beside Mia, looking up at Riza expectantly. He was waiting for his own breakfast.

“Good morning, Mia,” Riza called over her shoulder, rising onto her tiptoes to reach for a glass for Mia’s water. “Head through to the dining room. I’ll bring your toast through to you.”

“Okay,” she mumbled, eyes half closed.

Riza placed a plate in front of Mia, manoeuvring around Hayate, who’d chosen to sit right beside Mia’s chair at the table. He was still looking up at Riza expectantly, waiting to be fed, but made no noise. He was patient as he watched Riza move around the room.

“Did you sleep well?” Riza bent at the waist, kissing the top of her daughter’s head.

“Uh hu,” Mia nodded tiredly. “I’m still sleepy.” Her declaration bordered on a whine, and Riza could sympathise with her.

“I know. You’ll wake up soon though. And you can have an early night tonight when you come home from school. That will make you feel better tomorrow.”

Like every child, the thought of going to bed early horrified Mia. That would limit her play time, and she would never want that. Mia’s spine straightened immediately, and her eyes were forced open wide in an effort to not appear tired in the slightest. “Oh…”

“We’ll see how you feel when you come home,” Riza added, although she knew Mia would play it off as not being tired as soon as she stepped in the door.

“Okay,” Mia nodded. She looked around the room, her head craning from side to side earnestly. “Where’s Dad?” She sounded so disappointed to not see him and, once again, Riza could sympathise.

“He left to go to work early,” Riza replied. It wasn’t a lie. Leaving the night before for work was certainly early.

Mia didn’t think too much more of it. She shrugged as Riza stooped to provide Hayate with his food bowl and fresh water. “Okay.”

After a brisk walk to school in the cool autumn wind, Riza was just sitting down to do her coursework when the phone rang. Placing down the hot mug of tea, freshly poured to warm her up, Riza walked through the house and prayed this call was Roy finally getting in touch with her.

“Hey,” Roy greeted through the phone. He sounded incredibly tired, but happy to speak to her. “Good morning.”

“Good morning to you too,” she replied, smiling to herself as she remembered saying the same greeting a few hours ago to their little one. Riza leaned her shoulder and temple against the wall beside the phone and cupped her stomach. Her own relief was palpable in her voice.

“Sorry for not calling earlier. I knew you’d be getting Mia ready for school.”

“That’s okay. You’re calling now.”

“Are you all right?”

“Perfectly fine,” she confirmed.

“Good, good.” He trailed off and Riza waited expectantly for something further, but Roy was silent.

“How are you this morning?”

“Oh, yes, fine,” Roy reassured. It certainly didn’t sound it but Riza wouldn’t ask over the phone. After Bradley’s warning the night before and Roy not coming home it was obvious something had happened. However, he was alive and talking to her. That was all she needed at the moment. She wanted to talk to him, not Colonel Mustang.

“What time will you be home tonight?”

“Normal time.” His tone was firm, determined. “It’s been a busy morning,” Roy added, “but I’ll have everything done by the end of the day. I wouldn’t want to miss coming home to you.”

Riza smiled. “Pre-warning, if you’re late, your dinner will probably end up burnt or eaten.”

“All the more reason to get home on time then, right?” She could hear his grin through the phone.

“Exactly. Either that or Mia will feed it to Hayate.”

“Don’t let that dog steal my food!”

Riza laughed at his horrified tone. “Then you better be home for six.”

“Oh, I definitely will now,” Roy vowed. “I’m not letting the mutt steal my dinner for a third time,” he muttered darkly, mostly to himself.

“It’s a hard life for you, isn’t it?”

“The hardest life,” he groaned dramatically.

“Okay,” Riza relented, “I will keep his paws off your food.”

“I would love you forever if you did.”

“You mean…” Riza smirked, twirling the cord around her fingers as a wicked idea occurred to her. “You weren’t already going to love me forever?”

Roy paused for a beat, left stumped.

“Hm,” Riza hummed, “maybe Hayate will be let up at the table tonight while we wait on you…”

“Riza Mustang, you know I will love you for all eternity,” Roy practically purred through the phone.

“Oh? Hm, I’ll have to see it to believe it,” she shrugged.

“Just wait until I get home,” he vowed.

His comment made her snort. “That’s a bit inappropriate for the work phone, isn’t it?”

“I just call it as it is,” he chuckled.

“Okay then, Mr. Love, I’ll let you get back to it. I can’t take up all the time of such a high-ranking officer.”

“You can take up all of my time any day, Riza.”

“I’m sure those in charge will love that.”

“What can I say, you’re worth it.”

The side of Riza’s mouth tugged into a smile. He was so sweet. Her love for Roy washed over her, pooling in her chest with such a warmth that she wanted him home right that second so she could see and hold him.

“What are you up to today?”

“Roy,” Riza laughed quietly, “you need to go back to work.”

“Indulge me,” he replied, but she could hear the hint of pleading in his tone. “Just this one question. I’m on a break anyway.”

Riza raised an eyebrow at his poor deflection but didn’t question it. She missed him and wanted to talk to him. “I’m supposed to be studying and doing coursework, but I’m talking to you instead. You’re making my tea cold.”

“Oh right! You have that exam coming up soon, right?”

Riza nodded. “I do. Hopefully, the little one doesn’t come before it, but to be honest, I wouldn’t mind. It would give me more time to study for it.”

“You will ace it,” Roy replied confidently. “I have every faith. Even if you didn’t study for it, you would.”

“You’re sweet.”

“And you’re smart as hell.”

“And you should be going back to work.”

“Okay,” he replied sullenly. “I’ll let you get back to your work too. Can’t have you drinking cold tea,” he quipped. “Have a good day, Riza. I love you.”

“Love you too, Roy,” she chuckled.

The phone was placed back on the wall. Letting out a breath, Riza let her relief swallow her whole. He was okay. Roy had sounded tired and strained. Something had definitely occurred through the night, but he was his regular self as they spoke. What had happened though, still remained a mystery. She was sure she’d find out when he returned home. It was enough to know that he was well.

* * *

Hayate’s ears perked up suddenly and he paused while playing with Mia. Riza lifted an eyebrow to his reaction, waiting to see what had gotten his attention. He barked once, abandoning Mia to walk towards the door of their living room.

“Hayate!” Mia called indignantly, annoyed he’d stopped playing their game.

He stopped at the threshold, barking once, at the same time there was a knock at the door.

“Hello, Edward,” Riza greeted. She was surprised to see him. He didn’t often call on them without reason, so she was already wondering what had happened for him to appear.

“Hello, Mrs. Mustang.” He cleared his throat but Riza had noticed the slight catch in his voice when he spoke.

“Would you like to come in?”

“Yes, please.”

Mia’s eyes lit up when they both walked into their living room. “Ed!” Her cry was happy and excited as she rushed over to him. “Hi!” Eyes sparkling with excitement, she looked up at their unexpected visitor.

“Hi, Mia,” Edward waved. His posture relaxed and an easy smile overtook his features, banishing the unease Riza had sensed in him upon arrival.

“It’s nice to see you again, Ed,” Riza remarked. “What can I do for you today?”

Riza caught his quick glance at Mia. Edward hesitated, pausing with his mouth open before snapping it closed again. His hands clenched into loose fists by his side and that agitation was back in his demeanor.

“Mia?” She called over to their daughter but not before giving Edward’s anxious body language another once over. “Ed and I need to discuss something privately for a little while. Would you mind going into the garden to play with Hayate so we can have some privacy?”

Edward’s eyes snapped up to Riza’s, but her attention remained on her daughter as she awaited an answer.

“Okay, Mum,” Mia replied happily, nonplussed and unaware of the tension residing in her friend. Her head cocked to the side, looking up at her mother. “Is everything okay?”

“Perfectly fine, Mia Bear,” Riza grinned. “We just have some adult things to talk about, that’s all.”

Mia shrugged and turned to look for her dog. “Come on, Hayate! Let’s go into the garden and play fetch!”

The dog’s ears perked up at the mention of the word ‘fetch’, his little tail wagging quickly as he agreed with a happy bark. They both ran for the kitchen and Riza heard their back door open and close with a slam.

“Would you like anything to drink?” Riza walked into the kitchen, reaching up to the cabinets above her head to grab a mug for herself. She sensed that whatever Edward was here to speak to her about would take a little while.

“Oh, uh…”

“Tea? Coffee? Water?”

“Coffee, please,” he replied.

“Head through to the table,” Riza directed, nodding her head towards the set of doors that led to their dining area. “Make yourself comfortable and I’ll be through in a minute.”

“Okay. Thank you, Mrs. Mustang.”

Rolling her eyes fondly, she smirked. “Just call me Riza, Ed,” she added softly.

There was a pause and he stopped walking. “Right. Sorry,” he apologised sheepishly.

“No harm done,” Riza reassured. “Mrs. Mustang is my mother-in-law, not me.” She laughed quietly to herself when she remembered the same conversation she’d had with Winry and Mia not too long ago.

“So, Edward,” Riza announced, pulling out a chair across from the young alchemist. “What can I do for you?”

Movement from Riza’s right caught her eye. She saw Mia run by the window of their kitchen. If this conversation was not for her ears, at least they’d be able to tell if she came back into the house. Anticipation had been itching at Riza as she prepared their hot drinks, desperate to know what had caused such visible discomfort and apprehension in Edward.

“Have you heard the most recent news? From Central?”

“No…” Anticipation was replaced with trepidation. “What’s happened?”

“The Colonel hasn’t told you yet?” He blinked at her, completely thrown off that Roy hadn’t shared this big news. Disapproval flooded his expression, tugging his eyebrows into a deep frown.

“He left late last night to go to Central Command,” Riza explained, stirring her tea calmly and removing the tea bag to place it on a tea plate she’d provided for herself. “He didn’t come home either.”

“Oh.” Edward’s eyes widened with what looked like realisation, then his shoulders slumped. His disapproval quickly faded.

“I’ve spoken to him since then, but something tells me this ‘big news’ probably wasn’t safe to share over a military phone that may or may not be being monitored.” Riza watched for his reaction. Edward’s shoulders stiffened at her calm but firm tone. “Am I correct?”

“Yeah, that’s actually… That was a smart move.” He looked like he’d been scolded, and his agreement was mumbled, like it was such an effort for him to agree that Roy was right on something. Riza ignored it. Whatever was going on was so much bigger than all of them and she was more interested in the sudden, apparently very big, development.

“I’m sure whatever Roy needs me to know, he’ll tell me,” Riza added. “We’ve both been through this together from the start and I don’t anticipate him keeping anything from me now. We’ve been through too much for him to stop now.” Riza forced the image of the scars on his abdomen from her mind.

“I – I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to insinuate he would –”

Riza waved off his apology. “It’s all right, Edward.”

“Wait. From the start…” His head cocked to the side and Riza watched him silently as he considered something. Taking a sip of her tea, she watched as his eyes widened. “Wait. Given Mia’s age you… You were with him when he was in Ishval?”

So, he’d given it some thought and finally put two and two together.

Riza nodded. “I fell pregnant before he left. Mia was born just before he returned.”

Edward paled as another realisation dawned on him after hearing her statement.

“Roy didn’t want to leave, but obviously he had no other choice but to go with the military.”

“He didn’t have to leave you both,” Edward interjected, appalled when there was no need to be. “He could have stayed!”

Riza took note of the way he spoke. Ed was bordering on being angry at Roy on her behalf. It was a stark reminder of just how young he was. While being hailed as a child prodigy he’d been built up to think he was incredibly intelligent and knowledgeable. And Edward Elric was, Riza didn’t doubt that and wouldn’t take it away from him, but his views on the world were so naïve. She smirked to herself sadly remembering how Roy had proposed his dream to her after her father’s death. They had all been naïve when they were that young, but that didn’t mean Edward had to follow in the footsteps of their mistakes.

“You and I both know it’s not that simple, Ed, and it never will be. Especially after enlisting in the military. They own you,” she added, nodding at him, “and they owned Roy too. Wherever they call to, he would have to follow. Same as you.”

“It’s not like that,” he protested. “Al and I get free reign of the country. We’re not stuck in headquarters.”

“Because Roy makes sure you get the freedom you need,” Riza replied. “I don’t know the exact ins and outs of it, but he fought for you to become his subordinate before you joined so that you could.”

Edward paused, sitting back in his chair in surprise. “He did?”

Riza nodded. “He knew that if your secret got out you’d probably be taken away and interviewed relentlessly about your ability to go through the gate, especially so young. Alphonse would’ve been removed from your side to be studied. A soul being bonded to a suit of armour is a very interesting and curious set of circumstances, especially for the military.”

His body jerked in surprise, looking affronted. “How do you know about Al and I?”

“I told you when we first met I’d already heard all about you. I meant it.”

“It was supposed to be a secret,” Edward scowled.

“Would you trust the person you loved with information such as this? Would you trust Winry with it?”

Edward almost choked on his coffee. He coughed and spluttered, his cheeks heating up, while Riza raised an eyebrow knowingly at his knee jerk reaction.

“I, um, me – I mean, Winry and I – It’s not –”

“Okay,” Riza relented, holding a hand up in surrender. The poor boy would probably have an aneurysm if she continued to push further, but she did hide her smile behind her mug as she took a sip of her tea. He definitely loved her.

“I mean…” He sighed, his face still beetroot red and he refused to meet her eyes. “I see your point,” Edward mumbled.

“Anyway, he couldn’t stay, no matter how much he wanted to,” Riza continued smoothly, going back to their previous conversation. “He had a duty to his country, and he was called up to war.”

“So he was definitely in Ishval,” Edward muttered to himself in grim wonder, sounding glad that piece of information had finally been confirmed for him. However, he stiffened, as if not realising he’d spoken aloud. “Sorry, never mind,” Edward added hurriedly, waving his hands in front of him. “Forget I said that if you don’t want to talk about it.”

“I don’t mind talking about it, Edward,” Riza reassured him gently. “It’s a part of our history, after all, and needs to be remembered and discussed. Roy was in Ishval,” Riza confirmed. “As a State Alchemist.”

Edward’s face said it all. It fell, and his mouth hung open. So, he knew enough about the war to have been able to figure some of it out for himself. “Wait, as a State Alchemist? Not just as a soldier?”

“He was a State Alchemist, yes.”

Edward paled further.

“Make no mistake, Edward, Ishval was an extermination campaign, not a war. When Roy returned his eyes had been opened in a painful way. But he bore that suffering, and continues to do so, ensuring people like you in the next generation would never need to. We worked through the aftermath together but it’s still hard.” Riza absentmindedly stared down at the brown liquid in her mug. “The nightmares never really go away. And I helped put him on that path,” Riza added sombrely. “I have responsibility in it too and want to see him succeed in his plans.”

“What do you mean, you have a responsibility?” His voice was incredibly quiet, a far cry from the Edward Elric she was used to. Even the skin of his face had taken on a greenish tinge. Still, he needed to know. He was military and working with Roy against those who’d caused it all. He had a right to know the extent of what he was fighting for.

But he couldn’t know about the tattoo. No one could. Riza shook her head. “It doesn’t matter. Know that I did have a part in his course of action though and I want him to see it through to the end, so the military can be removed from power and democracy can take its place.” Her fingers tightened on the mug, knowing what that course of action entailed.

“Democracy?”

“That’s the only way the nation will change. Once he becomes Fuhrer he’ll devolve all power into parliament, replacing the Fuhrer with a Prime Minister. Then, those who committed war crimes in Ishval can be punished, such as the State Alchemists.” The heat from her tea was burning the tips of her fingers, but Riza still didn’t move them.

“But… The Colonel being a State Alchemist in the war means –”

Edward hadn’t really expected to reach that conclusion from this conversation, Riza knew that much. He may have had an inkling it was coming, but it was likely he didn’t want to accept. And why should a teenager want to accept such things? But that was the way of their world and the progress that came from their past actions. Roy wanted to atone for his sins from Ishval and while the thought of losing him completely terrified and rocked Riza to her core, there was no use in fighting it. He bore that suffering so no one else could in the future. It was his decision and she’d support it. She’d never take that away from him, no matter how much her mind screamed and begged her to reconsider, or how her heart rate kicked up erratically and the thought left her gasping for air in a panic. Roy would be executed for his crimes and there was nothing Riza could do to stop that course if that’s what the people called for. It wouldn’t be fair to the Ishvalans who’d been targeted and lost their lives. She’d known this for years but was still difficult to accept when it was brought up. Not that Riza ever really thought of it, but it was a constant crushing weight that lay in the back of her mind, hidden just out of sight. However, she’d learned to live with it, somewhat. That was the price of her giving him the secrets to flame alchemy and inadvertently causing such a catastrophe as Ishval to occur.

Riza just stared at Edward, unmoving and unflinching as he came to terms with her answer. She hated to do it to him, but she wouldn’t lie. Not about this.

“He’ll – He’ll be executed!”

“I know, Ed.” It hurt even more to hear it voiced aloud.

“And… You’re okay with that?” His cry was out of denial and disbelief and Riza tried not to let it get to her too much, but anger flared inside of her like a beast.

“How can you ask me that?” Her tone was cold, but her expression was almost unchanging. She narrowed her eyes at Edward only slightly, but dangerously. She couldn’t help it.

“But – But – Mia! And… And your new baby!”

“I’m well aware, Edward,” Riza repeated, trying to remain calm. Her heart rate was gearing up again, her skin breaking out in a sweat as she tried not to let the panic consume her. “So is Roy. Ultimately, we won’t know what will happen in the end,” she swallowed, “but if that’s what the people call for due to his past actions, then that’s what he will give. Roy feels he needs to atone for his past sins and I would never take that away from him.”

Riza cleared her throat and forced her swallow past the lump in there. Thinking of their children, so innocent and unaware of what may eventually befall their father, almost killed Riza, but she and Roy would work through it together. They’d explain everything to them when they were old enough about what happened in Ishval and the possible outcome of their plan. They wouldn’t hide from it.

“But don’t think for a second we haven’t considered our children and family.” Riza’s tone changed, her voice becoming stronger. “Believe me, Edward, we’ve been discussing this for years and it never gets any easier to deal with. Especially not right now.”

Edward sat back in his chair, dumbfounded. Nothing was said for a few moments and Riza continued to mentally calm herself down as he processed this new information. A quiet sigh left her, finally letting go of the flare of anger she’d felt towards him briefly before.

He’s just young, Riza reminded herself.

“Hey,” a tired voice announced suddenly, cutting off any further conversation they may have. For a second, Riza thought it was Mia and her eyes instinctively moved to the kitchen window, however she was still playing happily with Hayate outside. “I’m home!”

Rising from her chair, Riza left Edward in their dining room to greet her husband. He was home earlier than he promised. It was just past five o’clock. As she approached, Riza watched as he shrugged out of his military jacket and tossed it carelessly onto the floor by the door. Riza felt a similar disposition towards the military in that moment after her conversation with Edward. The top two buttons of Roy’s shirt were popped open, the collar spread so she could see his chest. A tired but happy smile spread across Roy’s features as he opened his arms. Stepping into them, Riza hugged him tightly, glad he was finally home. She needed his comfort after that heavy talk, and reminder that he wasn’t gone from her side yet.

“I missed you,” he whispered quietly into her hair.

Riza gave him a tight squeeze, letting him know she felt the same way. “I’m glad you’re home.”

“I was kept in a meeting with Bradley all night so couldn’t come home before I was due in for work.”

“That’s okay,” she reassured, pulling away and pressing a hand to his cheek. “You’re home now. And we have a guest.”

His fingers tightened their grip on her protectively as his eyes shot up and looked away, down the hall. After their last surprise visitor, Riza didn’t blame him for his reaction.

“Oh?” Roy’s question was nonchalant, but his grip tightened still.

“Edward Elric came by to say hello.”

Roy’s shoulders slumped and his hands hung loose on her waist. “Oh.”

“He wanted to talk,” Riza added, shooting him a pointed look. “And we discussed our future plans.”

Roy nodded in acceptance.

“So, sorry. Dinner hasn’t even been started yet.”

Roy tutted and rolled his eyes playfully while Riza just nudged him.

“At least I can fend Hayate off from it myself tonight,” he joked, giving her a quick kiss and another tight hug.

“Good evening, Fullmetal,” Roy greeted, walking into their dining room where he was still sitting, gripping his coffee cup tightly.

“Colonel,” Edward nodded.

“Did you come to steal my thunder and share my news before me?”

Edward glowered at Roy. Riza nudged his side with her elbow.

“Don’t be such a child,” she scolded. “He came by for a chat. And it’s always nice for friends to stop by,” she smiled at Edward, trying to channel that he shouldn’t feel bad for his outburst during their future plans. They’d both gotten a little worked up. He still looked slightly nervous and regretful. “And once you’ve finished acting like a child,” she added, turning to Roy and pointing over his shoulder, “you can go outside and say hello to our own. She missed you this morning too.”

Riza went to pull away from his hold, but Roy didn’t let her move far. He bent his head down, kissing her cheek. “Okay, I’ll go and see her now.”

“We never got as far as your ‘big news’ though,” Riza added, “but you’ve both succeeded in making me incredibly curious.”

“I’ll explain everything when I come back,” Roy promised. “It’s…” He grimaced. “Well, it’s certainly something.”

“Take your time with Mia,” Riza smiled, patting his shoulder twice.

“Mia?” Roy called into their garden, stepping outside into the afternoon sun’s low rays.

A loud gasp reached Riza’s ears before the door clicked shut quietly. “Dad!”

Through the window, Riza saw Mia race by and throw herself into her father’s arms as Hayate barked happily by their sides, his tail wagging and tongue lolling in greeting.

“I should probably get going,” Edward announced. “I don’t want to take up more of your evening.”

Riza shook her head. “I’m always open to visits from a friend, Edward. Don’t worry about him,” she jerked her thumb over her shoulder. “He gets snarky when he’s tired.”

Edward coughed, trying to hide his laugh.

“Although, something tells me you’ve noticed that already,” Riza grinned.

He didn’t answer for a beat. “Maybe once or twice,” he admitted quietly.

“He respects you, Edward. Despite being sharp with you. I do too. You’re working so hard towards your goal, but please…” Riza paused for a second, thinking of a way to word her thoughts correctly. “You’re still young. Rest when you need to. And talk to someone if you feel overwhelmed by everything.”

“I will,” he promised.

“And I’m sure Winry will appreciate a call every once in a while too. She worries and cares about you a lot.” His cheeks reddened, just like they’d done before. “She would love to hear from you and know you’re safe.”

“Yeah,” Edward coughed, cheeks still red. “Yeah,” he repeated, sounding defeated, “I need to be better at that.”

“Just one phone call every now and then can go a long way. Believe me.”

“Okay.” Edward nodded, his spine straightening as he squared his shoulders. “Thank you for talking with me about everything too. I really appreciate it. I’m sorry for my outbursts,” he added sheepishly.

“Not a problem, Edward. Take some time to process everything. I know that was a lot. And whatever is going on, you and Alphonse can always call on us to help,” Riza reminded. “Winry too.”

“Thank you, Riza.”

* * *

“So…” Riza swallowed thickly, processing what Roy had announced to her. “They’re all gone?” She fell back, coming to rest on the couch cushions behind her, stunned.

Roy nodded slowly. The movement was controlled. His shoulders held a lot of tension as he leaned forward. His hands, clenched together, covered his mouth while his elbows rested on his knees.

“Falman to the north, Breda to the west, Fuery to the south,” Roy repeated. His torso expanded with a sigh, which was let out loudly around his fists. “Havoc’s moving back east to live with his family. He’s leaving the military.”

She expected this move would happen for Havoc, but to have the other three ripped from him as well… Now there was no one Roy trusted implicitly inside his office.

“I’m sorry, Roy.”

He shrugged, but she saw the helpless look in his eyes. “It is what it is.”

“It’s shit. That’s what it is.”

Roy snorted then coughed. “Yes,” he agreed with a chuckle. Straightening, Roy wrapped his arm around her back and laid his head against her shoulder. “Yes, it is.”

Lifting her hand, she ran her fingers through his dark hair. Going against the grain, she lifted the strands from the back of his head so they spilled in between her fingers, carpeting the back of her hand with a gentle softness and warmth. Roy hummed quietly underneath her, appreciative.

“We’ll get through this,” Riza whispered. “We always do.”

“I’m just worried about anything further happening,” Roy admitted. The arm around her back tightened its grip.

“Do you have any reason to?”

His body tensed. “You came up in the meeting with Bradley. He insinuated what he could do if I didn't comply.”

Her hand stilled in his hair.

“Please don’t stop,” Roy whispered with a hitch in his voice.

Recovering from another shock, her head turned and looked down at him, but Roy didn’t move. His weight grew heavier against the side of her body. Riza restarted moving her hand through his hair with what she hoped were gentle and soothing movements. He needed them right now.

“What was insinuated?” Riza swallowed. She didn’t really want to know but her morbid curiosity got the better of her.

“Well. The worst thing imaginable.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

So, she’d most likely be killed.

“I’m so sorry.” Roy’s voice was husky, and a hand lifted to press protectively over her stomach. “I didn’t intend for this to happen.”

“Roy, nothing’s happened,” she reminded him gently.

“Yes, but it could. And it was me that put you in harm’s way.”

“I signed up for this remember.” Riza pulled away from him. Grasping his shoulders, she righted his body so he was straight. Staring into his dark, shining eyes, Riza cupped his cheeks firmly in her hands. “I knew from the start it wouldn’t be plain sailing. We both did. And we’re both committed to it. Do they have any reason to harm you?”

Roy shook his head best he could in her grip. “No. I’m important to them for whatever reason.”

“Okay.” That was a big relief to her. “So, as long as you play by their rules, we have nothing to fear?”

“I did that once before.” Something flashed in his eyes as he remembered Ishval. That cut off her feeling of relief immediately. Dread took its place, clawing at her insides relentlessly. “And I don’t want to have to do it again.”

“I don’t want you to either.” She didn’t know what else to say to that. He was stuck. They’d taken his team hostage as well as her, in a way. Her discomfort returned tenfold.

Roy looked like he needed it, so Riza drew him into a tight side hug. His hands clutched at her blouse, forming fists to scrunch up the material. One of her hands gripped his shoulder tightly while the other returned to his hair, running her hands gently through it.

“At least we still have each other,” Riza reasoned, going over everything inside her head. “At least we’re still together. They haven’t moved us apart. And we have our family and our health.”

“If they tried to keep us apart then I really would tell a homunculus where to shove it,” Roy muttered into the crook of her neck.

Chuckling, Riza smoothed down his hair, giving it a pat. “That would be a stupid move.”

“Satisfying, though,” he mumbled petulantly.

“Very satisfying,” Riza agreed. “I’ll support that.”

Roy heaved a sigh, his breath heating up the skin of her neck. “Thank you.”

“For what?”

His grip on her shifted, his hands relaxing from their fists. “You’re always such a calming force for me.”

“I’m happy to help,” she smiled. “Always. Anything for you.”

“I thought I was in real trouble when I was talking to Bradley. I really did. Then after it… Everyone had received their transfer papers while I was in the meeting. Fullmetal and Alphonse were there too. I’m surprised Bradley didn’t remove them, but he didn’t seem to care about their mission of getting their bodies back.”

Riza nodded. “What happened after the meeting?”

“I wanted to call, but I knew you’d be getting Mia ready for school. It killed me not to let you know I was okay. But I just wanted to say that our phone call helped a lot.”

“Good.” That made Riza ecstatic to hear.

“You can probably expect more of them from now on,” he smiled, finally pulling away from her. “If my phone is being monitored then I want them to be bored out of their mind listening to me profess my love for you,” he winked playfully.

“You sound exactly like Maes,” Riza smiled, a pang of sadness going through her heart.

“Then I learned from the best,” Roy grinned.

The phone rang loudly and suddenly, interrupting their moment. Regrettably, she moved away from Roy’s side and walked through to the hall, picking it up to answer.

“Hello?”

“Hey, Riza!” Rebecca Catalina called cheerily down the phone. “I’m coming to town this weekend. What would you say to us having a girl’s night out?”

It was eerie how well this phone call had been timed. Riza relaxed her shoulders as her friend proposed what honestly sounded like a fantastic idea after a stressful start to the week.

“Rebecca, you read my mind.”

Roy came up behind her, wrapping his arms around her waist and pecking her cheek. He didn’t move, just remained there, holding her tightly. Riza appreciated the comfort he brought with him and leaned back into his embrace, savouring the feeling after her long night and day without him.

“Fantastic,” Rebecca cried, “because I am desperate for one. Especially after the juicy gossip I just heard, straight from Central Command!”

#royai #royai fic #royai fanfic #royai au #the way it was #emma writes

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worryinglyinnocent · 3 years

Text

Fic: Forged Through Fire (4/13)

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Rated: T

[One] [Two] [Three] [AO3]

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Content warning for this chapter: Discussion of parent-on-child domestic abuse and parental neglect.

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Forged Through Fire

Four

Roy didn’t really know what to expect when he knocked on the Hawkeye residence’s door the next day – well, later in the same day, since he hadn’t left until after midnight. Riza looked tired and withdrawn when she answered, but she gave a weak smile when she saw him.

“Hey Roy. Come in.”

He stepped inside, hanging up his coat on the hook that had always been his when he had been coming over to learn under Berthold.

“How are you today?”

“I’m ok. Still sore, and the burned skin pulls weirdly sometimes, it’s going to take some time to get used to it. But the pain’s getting better.”

“That’s good.” It wasn’t exactly what he’d asked, and he wondered if Riza was dodging the subject intentionally. “How are you feeling today?”

She shrugged. “I don’t know. I don’t know how to vocalise it. I’m not used to this.”

“What aren’t you used to?”

He followed her into the kitchen, getting cups out of the cupboard as she put the kettle on.

“This.” She gave a long sigh. “I’m not used to having people care about me and care how I’m feeling. The last person who ever cared about my feelings was my mom. And now there’s you, and Trisha, and Hohenheim, and your aunt, and you all care, and you all know about this.” She gestured to her back. “And I trust you with it, don’t get me wrong. But it’s overwhelming. I don’t know how to be vulnerable, Roy. I don’t know how to deal with people caring about me.”

“That’s ok.” Roy chanced to reach across and touch her hand where it was resting on the counter as she waited for the kettle to come to the boil. “We’ll still be here whilst you’re figuring it out.”

No more was said as the kettle boiled and tea was made, and they sat down at the kitchen table.

Presently, Riza looked through the kitchen door to the door of her father’s study opposite.

“I should go in and sort everything out. I haven’t been in there since he died. I don’t have the energy. I can’t think of anything that I want to do less than go through all his research. Part of me says I shouldn’t bother. He loved alchemy more than he ever loved me and I don’t see why I should have to have anything to do with it now. But then there’s the other part of me that says I should continue being a dutiful daughter and go through all his stuff. It caused me so much pain and it’s all still there and I have to do something with it.”

“I don’t see any reason why you should,” Roy said “Just destroy it all. Hell, just torch the entire room, you don’t even need to take anything out of it.”

Riza raised an eyebrow. “Having a burned out husk of a room in the middle of the house might make it hard to sell. Also the risk of it bringing the entire house down is just a bit too great. Not that I don’t trust you to have excellent control over your fire, but this is a very old and flammable building. Makes me wonder how it never burned down before, actually.”

“OK. Take everything out of it and dump it in the garden and have a bonfire, then. You don’t owe him anything, Riza. I think you need the catharsis. You can’t get rid of the marks he left on you, but you can get rid of all of the other traces of his legacy. I think it would be fitting for it all to go up in smoke.”

Riza nodded. “I just want it gone,” she said quietly. “The tattoo will never be gone. But everything else can be gone. Just… erase him from the world and never have to deal with him again. Never have him cause me any pain again.”

She finished her tea and stood up suddenly, the scrape of the chair legs against the kitchen floor jerking Roy into action too.

“Let’s do it.”

She threw the study door open, as if she was trying not to second-guess herself, and Roy looked around. It looked exactly the same as it had done when he had last been in there a couple of years prior – books and papers everywhere, no rhyme or reason to anything, no order that made sense to anyone except Berthold.

“I hate this room so much,” Riza said. Her tone was almost conversational, but Roy could see the anger in her eyes, now bright and fiery instead of the haunted look she’d been wearing for the past couple of days.

It took them a while to get everything out of the study into the garden and pile it up, but it was worth it to see the look of satisfaction in Riza’s face as she stood in the empty room. They’d even ripped down the curtains and pulled out the built-in bookshelves. If they were going to do it, then they would do it properly. Everything had to go. The sun was beginning to go down by the time they were finished, and Roy looked over at Riza.

“Are you ready?”

She nodded.

“Light it up.”

Roy shook his head and handed her a lighter; always paid to have one handy in case the spark cloth got wet. “No. This is your moment; you need to do this.”

Riza took the lighter and flicked it, watching the tiny flame stuttering in the breeze for a while before she threw it onto the pile of papers and furniture. It took a few moments for it to catch properly, but soon the blaze was burning high, Berthold Hawkeye’s legacy going up in smoke in the most poetic end for his research there could be.

For a long time, they just watched the blaze together in silence, and Roy looked sideways at Riza, the shadows from the bright flame dancing in front of his eyes. Her arms were wrapped tightly around herself, like she was trying to physically hold herself together, and he startled when she suddenly crumpled down onto her knees.

He crouched beside her.

“Riza?”

Riza howled, a heartrending scream of pain, anger, frustration and grief all letting rip. Roy couldn’t say he was surprised, nor could he say she didn’t need it after everything. Tears were streaming down her face, and Roy realised he hadn’t seen her cry like this at all since her father’s death. Not at the funeral and not even the previous day when she’d been in so much pain. She had wept, but nothing like this raw outpouring of emotion.

Riza had always been stoic, more stoic than Roy thought he could ever hope to be, and even though it was completely understandable, and he had been the one to say that she could not keep her stoicism forever, it was alarming to see her in so much distress. He hovered next to her, hand an inch from her shoulder, wanting to give a comforting touch but not sure whether or not it would be welcome.

In the end he chanced it, rubbing her arm gently. Riza gave no indication that she could even feel him, continuing to sob, and Roy settled down on the damp grass beside her.

Eventually, she cried herself out, falling silent again, the roaring flame from the bonfire still going strong beside them, the light sparkling on Riza’s wet cheeks as she kept staring at it.

“Can I get you anything?” Roy asked.

Riza shook her head.

“No. Just don’t leave, please.”

Roy would quite happily have stayed there for as long as she wanted, until the fire burned down to nothing. He shifted, putting an arm around Riza’s shoulders as she flopped against him, exhausted by the much needed emotional release.

After a few more minutes of silence, Roy ventured to speak again.

“How are you feeling?”

“Like I’ve been through a washing machine. I don’t know what I’m supposed to feel so I’m feeling it all at once.”

“That’s ok. Just let it all out.”

Riza didn’t respond, and Roy could see that she was crying again; silent and sorrowful.

“You’ll be ok. I promise.” He couldn’t hope to understand what she was feeling, and he was grateful that he had never been in the position where he would be able to claim he knew what she was going through, but he could understand that she was undergoing a massive upheaval, and all he could hope to do was help her through the other side.

He watched the smoke rising from the fire, sending the ashes of her childhood flying off into the night sky, away into the ether where they could never harm her again.

They stayed out in the garden until the fire began to die back - Roy would admit if asked that he had helped its intensity along at various points to keep it steady and bright - and by the time they went back inside, stiff and cold from sitting on the grass for so long, but neither of them complaining at it, Riza seemed to have found a modicum of peace again.

Of all the things that Riza thought she was going to have to worry about when she started working the front for the speakeasy, having someone come into the bookshop who actually wanted to use it as a bookshop wasn’t one of them. It was such an obscure and out of the way little place, hardly anyone ever came in looking for books, and most people who did come in saw the state of the shelves and everything packed in haphazard and turned straight back around again.

The woman who had just walked in and started browsing, however, had determination if nothing else. She’d been going through the shelves for a good fifteen minutes before she finally poked her head around the end of one of the stacks and looked at Riza with her brow furrowed.

“Do you have a history section?”

“Honestly? I have no idea. I’ve only been here three months. I think everything’s organised by what colour the cover is rather than anything else.”

The woman laughed. “Oh well. I’ll just keep looking. I don’t have anywhere else to be, after all.”

It was the middle of the afternoon and whilst the bar was open, Riza wasn’t expecting any patrons to come through the door any time soon, so there was no need to get the woman out of the shop lest she find out about the rather more illegal practices going on downstairs.

“I can help you look if you want.” She got up and came out from behind the counter. “Are you looking for something specific?”

“Not really, more just anything that I can get my hands on about local history. I mean, you know what it’s like trying to find out anything about the time before the current regime started up. I’ve got as much access to the governmental archives as they allow, which is…” The woman tailed off, and Riza knew exactly why. Even in a place as out of the way as the bookshop, there were eyes and ears everywhere.

“You get through the front door and they give you what they want you to see?” Riza suggested. She wasn’t sure how to let the woman know that the space here was safe, and at the same time there was always the risk that she herself was here for nefarious purposes, trying to scent out what was going on behind the scenes.

The woman nodded. “Yeah, pretty much.”

They continued to work through the shelves for a while but going book by book was going to take them till next Tuesday, and their conversation turned to other things – the weather, the latest news, other neutral small talk topics. Names were exchanged, and finally Riza brought the conversation back around to their current mission; subtly trying to get more information to see how much of a threat this Rebecca Catalina might be.

“So, how come you have access to the governmental archives?”

“I’m a journalist with the Central Herald.” Rebecca sighed. “At least, I attempt to be a journalist.”

“Attempt?” Riza was intrigued now; the Central Herald was known for getting on the wrong side of the government just enough to annoy them without being enough to get itself closed down. There was no free press in Amestris and there hadn’t been for a long time, but the Herald was the closest they got to it. She was steering towards thinking that Rebecca probably wasn’t a secret police informant. Either that or she was in deep undercover.

“All the newspapers have state-sponsored overseers. I think they’d all much rather that I stuck to just reporting on weddings and funerals and what colour hat Lady Bradley’s wearing on any given day, but we do our best.”

Riza had to smile at that.

“So, what’s the latest scoop?”

“Nothing concrete yet. I’ve just got a feeling. There’s some dilapidated old buildings on the far side of town, by the Narrows. They’ve been closed off as condemned for years, but they’ve never been knocked down, and there are always cars with government plates hanging around in the vicinity.”

“Well, in this country I wouldn’t put anything past anybody.”

They continued searching for a while, pulling up a few promising old books, until the bell above the shop door jangled again and Riza immediately went into secret keeper mode, going to see who had entered her domain. The bookshop was a strange liminal space in that sense, more of a portal to another world than a place in its own right.

It was only Roy.

“Hi. I just thought I’d come by to see how you were doing.”

“I’m ok.” She nodded discreetly in Rebecca’s direction to indicate that they weren’t alone and couldn’t discuss bar business. “How are you?”

“Fine. Hughes is driving me round the bend but that’s not exactly new…” He trailed off, and Riza glanced to the side to see that Rebecca was doing a very poor job of pretending that she wasn’t watching them, surreptitiously sneaking peeks over the top of the book she absolutely wasn’t reading. Looking back at Roy, she saw that he’d gone rather pink around the edges, and the sight of him so flustered made her smile.

“Well, I, erm, I’ll see you later.”

He left the shop as suddenly as he’d entered it, and Rebecca gave a giggle from behind her book.

“Boyfriend?” she asked.

“No, no. He’s just an old friend.”

Rebecca raised an eyebrow. “Are you absolutely sure about that?”

“Yes. No. I don’t know.” She really didn’t want to think about it.

Rebecca seemed to notice her consternation and immediately changed the subject. The two of them continued to talk about books for a while, and although Riza was as guarded as she ever was around strangers, there was something about Rebecca that was easy to get along with. Riza found herself wondering what the catch was. Her upbringing had made her cynical in a way, always wondering what it was that people wanted from her. After spending so long with Roy as the only person she could really consider to be a friend, finding new friendly people was somewhat daunting.

For a moment, Riza’s anger against her father flared again, knowing that he was at the root of her troubles and lamenting the ordinary childhood and teenage years that she’d never got to have. She tried to push it down and focus on what Rebecca was saying.

“Well, I have to go now, but I’d like to come back and take a look at the shelves I didn’t get to today.”

“Sure. We’re always open.” That was pretty much true. Operating as the front for the speakeasy meant that they did keep much longer hours than most ordinary second-hand bookshops would.

“Great! Well, it was nice to meet you Riza. I’ll see you soon.”

Riza found herself looking forward to it in spite of herself.

Roy came back into the shop a few minutes after Rebecca left, and Riza had to laugh.

“Were you literally just hiding around the corner until she went away?”

“No! Well. Maybe.”

Riza snorted. “There’s no need, I’m fairly sure she’s harmless. She’s a journalist for the Herald.”

“Journalists are in no way harmless, Riza.”

“You know what I mean. Harmless to you physically. She’s not going to bite you, and from our conversation, I’m sure she’s safe for this place as well.”

“The sixth sense wasn’t tingling then?”

“You know me, Roy. I’m naturally suspicious of everyone. But I think Rebecca could be a friend to us.”

“That’s good.” Roy looked at her. “Do you think she could be a friend to you?”

Riza didn’t reply straight away, mulling everything over in her mind. The idea of having friends who weren’t linked to the speakeasy or didn’t come through Roy was a nice one, despite the voice in the back of her mind that kept telling her that she didn’t deserve nice things like that.

“I… I think so. I don’t know. I would like that.”

“Go for it and see where it takes you. It’ll be good for you to get out of here once in a while and have some friends who aren’t here for the alcohol.”

“I know. I was thinking the same thing. The trouble is that I keep waiting for the other shoe to drop.”

“It’s still early days yet. Maybe there isn’t another shoe. We live in a world of mistrust and subterfuge and paranoia, but there are still decent people out there.”

“Yeah, I guess so.” Riza leaned back in her chair. “Optimism hasn’t always been the best colour on me. It feels weird.”

“I agree that sometimes optimism can be dangerous in the circumstances we’re in. But it can be exhausting to be cynical all the time, and you deserve some normality in your life.”

“Hmm.” Riza continued to ponder his words for a while, until Roy just left her alone with her thoughts, giving her an understanding pat on the shoulder as he went past her into the bar.

Maybe it wasn’t too late to start having friends and getting some semblance of normality into her life after all.

#FMA Fanfiction #FMA Brotherhood #Royai #Riza Hawkeye #Roy Mustang #Fic: Forged Through Fire

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viridashi · 6 years

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arnica

When Riza, now a woman- strong, made quiet by time- found herself in bed for any longer than her normally scheduled sleep, she couldn’t seem to sit still. - Riza heals from her burns.

Riza, when she was young, rarely was ever sick. To have been afflicted by illness would have inevitably starved her father, she being the only reminder that he did in fact have such a mundane thing as an appetite, and invariably would have caused their entire household to rot in its base. Were it not for her own distaste for the dust- never ending, constantly piling- or the vigilant eye on all that seemed to go awry with the manor, it would have surely been gone. And subsequently, Riza Hawkeye was never sick, because she couldn’t be.

So, when Riza, now a woman- strong, made quiet by time- found herself in bed for any longer than her normally scheduled sleep, she couldn’t seem to sit still.

She spends her time thinking how her back will scar over, in valleys or marks, like millions of bullets having grazed her skin, or killer’s hands scratching out the ink; She wonders, in dread, horror, and utter acceptance.

The Flame Alchemist, the one who damned her there just as she had him to her bedside, insisted on her rest. No matter how terribly Riza wanted to argue this, to verbalize her endless objections, she could only ever seem to muster measly apologies, meek agreements- hoarse whispers in the night when she knew she wouldn’t remember in the morning and he certainly would.

She was terribly, awfully enclosed in a prison of bed sheets, medications, and bloody bandages- all the more crimson with each change.

She hardly knew where he slept, he who watched her when she was and watched her when she wasn’t. She hardly knew when he slept.

Ever since the fires in the desert sand, and the screams that reverberated off the dunes, she couldn’t find remorse for the man who had once been a friend.

She remembers in a daze sometimes, the moment her gun scope had found his face. A friend’s face, too. Instead of shooting him, ending him, scuffing the fires, she shot the Ishvalan man trying to do the very same thing. She doesn’t cry about it now, in her bed, but she cried about it in her cot and her shabby, sandy tent.

When she was young, she gave Roy the secrets, those dear, dear things (so insistently embedded in her flesh) because she loved him. She saw something in those eyes, storms trapped in sockets, that were churning with passion. Hope. Something her pitiful, broken hands could never learn to bear.

She watched those hands break under her weight, watched storms turn against her. He tore away at the world with those dear, dear secrets, those god awful, damnations. She became a witness through her gun sight.

“Drink.” he interrupts her memory with an order, voice hoarse, entering the room with an exhausted stumble and shutting the door roughly behind him. She pulls her gaze away from the ascended cloud of dust shining through the window light, and looks pathetically at her untouched cup of water, avoiding his face.

The Major, soon to be promoted, surely, heaves an exasperated sigh as he opens one of the room’s cabinets and tugs out bandages. His eyes, tired and red around the edges, glare down at her, “I wish you wouldn’t be so stubborn.” His voice is angry, and she hates it. As if he has the right.

She scowls, voice just the right amount of dehydrated and affected to leave her practically mute to retort, and leans up towards the nightstand to grab ahold of the cup. She drinks reluctantly, she wouldn’t admit how much her throat did need it. She tries to ignore his approving glance as he continues to search for something in the cabinets. She pretends to not have drunk all of the cup’s contents in her thirst, and haphazardly places the cup back on the table, not once returning his looks.

He carries over the supplies he gathered, settles them on the nightstand, and she tries to push herself up from her pillow. She knew her bandages were going to need changed today, yet she still didn’t try to make last night any less difficult for him.

She still wonders why he even bothers returning to her apartment, day after day. She only shows him disdain and curt responses, hiding slights she wishes she had the heart to spit. He knows it too, the way he leaves the room quickly once making sure things are settled, waiting until she is asleep and no longer able to glare at him. Then, she hears him return in the night sullenly to keep his watch. She never stops him.

Gently, he grasps her shoulders and helps her sit up, hesitantly gauging her reaction, but Riza knows she doesn’t have the strength to lift herself on her own so she says nothing. She begins unfastening the bandage at her front, and turns herself away from him. At this point, modesty seems unnecessary, but she tries to keep this distance from him nevertheless.

He opens the new bandages behind her, and they repeat yesterday’s dance. Eyes avoiding, sometimes searching but never receiving. He touches a burn, and she hisses in pain, he murmers an apology, angry with himself, she shakes her head with eyes shut. She can’t do this on her own, she admits, everyday, reminding the enraged, restrained part of her that wants to hurt the killer behind her.

When the bandages are changed, he cleans up, and asks her if she feels okay. She nods slowly, feeling like she could easily hurl. He closes the cabinets, and leaves to wash his hands. He hurries, as if he hates the blood, her blood, coating his fingers.

They do not speak beyond this routine and in the nights at her bedside, but Riza knows that their suppressed words are bound to breach their sealed lips. Riza, who has never been one to not speak her mind, knows that her words will ignite in a wildfire, one that not even Roy could contain with his fire-bringing hands. Though, she’s not a fool to think that he doesn’t carry his own hatred for her. In the bile stuck in his throat when the bandages fall, and the weight he now has to bear because of her. When they were children, their lives always found a way to sneak into the other. She wonders how it became so different all these years later.

Roy, with his younger, steadfast heart, found something in his master’s daughter, in that time not so long ago. He would read his textbooks to her late in the night, and eventually, inevitably, the books would slide away, and only their own words would fill the stale air of the Hawkeye mansion. So much to say in the way of senseless bickering, and deep conversation, it’s hard to determine when exactly they lost it.

When he left you,

never coming back.

When he betrayed your trust,

killing by your hands.

It’s hard to say indeed. Journeys out to town that were despised then, unless they were in each other’s company, become the moments she most wants to drift back to. Gentle dreaming, hands grazing the tall, overgrowing Arnica next to the path. Roy once picked some, and designed a bouquet just on the way to the general store. Riza teased and pestered him to find out who they were for, and he was insistent on her not knowing.

Upon their return, when Roy went up to the attic to continue his classes, Riza found the short bouquet resting in a cup on her nightstand. She remembers the way her heart leapt. Out of her own embarrassment, she wouldn’t mention them to him.

Riza drifts off to a relieved sleep, now that the bandages have been changed and her throat is feeling better, and Roy will probably be leaving soon. Her pillow has become very comfortable under her head now.

He re-enters the room loudly again, always does, thinking its some kind of warning before he enters it, but he stumbles and slows when he sees her tired eyes.

“They’re expecting me back at the office. I won’t be long.”

She sighs, stiffly trying to get more under the small bed comforter, “It’s fine. You can drop by tomorrow.”

She sees through her almost closed eyes a dejected expression, but it quickly morphs into something stubborn, and he looks young, “I don’t want you moving around whatsoever. I’ll be back with something to eat,” his tone is akin to the one he uses to command orders, “I left some pain-killers on the nightstand, and the phone’s right-”

“It’s my apartment, I know where the phone is,” she snaps without meaning to.

She has closed her eyes now, but it’s quiet in her comment’s wake. She regrets it.

“I moved it closer to you, I meant,” he audibly gulps in the room’s silence. The door creaks on its hinges, “Please, Riza, call me.”

She doesn’t respond, and the door eventually shuts gently behind him. She opens her eyes, and through the door hears him grab his keys off her counter and put on his coat before leaving her apartment.

She hates how angry she is. She hates her own vulnerability when she needs him, desperately wants him, and that comfort he once brought her. When they were children exchanging bouquets of flowers, conversing behind closed doors in the expanse of their mansion.

An unforgivable war of endless fires separates them now.

She takes in a harsh breath, and the cool air hits her dry throat with a jolt of pain. Her frustration only grows as she reaches up for her cup of water, and tries to sit up to drink it.

With the combined effort to do things that she isn’t exactly supposed to be straining her back to do, the edge of the glass collides with the edge of the nightstand in cruel and excessive punishment. It falls, now finally colliding with the ground, in a clash and splatter.

She buries her face into her pillow and groans. There’s no one to hear her distress, though, as has been with Roy’s form roaming the outside of her bedroom door, always listening, always guarding. His absence seems unnatural to her, she admits.

So, Riza thinks that she couldn’t possibly allow the idea of Roy returning and saving the day. Once again, coming to her supposed rescue. She absolutely couldn’t.

In defiance of this entire idea, she pushes herself up, her back screaming and every other part of her sore, aching body having been trapped to a bed for the past week. She gasps in pain, but imagines his stupid, pity-filled face when he sees her and that damn broken cup. It fuels her just enough for her feet to touch the ground.

She hitches on a breath, as she’s new to this position for the first time in a week. The skin on her back feels so thin and brittle under the bandages. She almost regrets the effort instantly. Yet, the ever resilient Riza Hawkeye wobbles onto her feet, because she and Roy had to have assumed that it was only a matter of days you could confine the soldier to a bed.

She uses the bedpost to stable herself, and then the wall, and then the doorframe. When she reaches the knob, she realizes her hands are shaking. Is she in pain? She doesn’t know, thinking maybe the pills she took are clouding it out.

She’s suddenly very, overwhelmingly thankful that her apartment is as tiny and practical as it is. Upon successfully exiting her room, she can quickly stumble onto the kitchen counter and depend on its stability for her weak, weak legs. There she finds, strangely, a pack of cigarettes, and a newfound desire to interrogate her superior about them. Since when did he smoke? How did I not know?

Something boils under her skin in response to this, but she ignores it the best she can as she reaches for a towel and completes the other half of her journey in the return to the scene.

Luckily, the cup, in its demise, hadn’t shattered to a million pieces, but rather three large and very sharp ones, and the water certainly hadn’t been filled to the brim. She’s thanking whatever god there is watching this disaster when she suddenly notices something strange on her nightstand.

Riza isn’t sure why now, of all times, this is occurring to her because certainly in her imprisonment she would have noticed the object’s presence right next to her. But, no, she hadn’t and yes, she almost drops the towel holding the remnants of the cup.

She catches herself, though, setting the towel and glass amidst the clutter of the nightstand what with spilled pills, various medications, the phone dragged a bit too far to the edge, and towels dried with horrors that ought to be burned to cleanse.

She sits on the edge of the bed, and grabs ahold of one of the dried flowers that rests on the stand. They were so very close to her bed, had she even bothered to turn her head for more than a moment, she might have noticed them.

The petals of the Arnica are tattered and torn away, some pieces rest on a napkin as if set out for her. She instantly thinks of something else, twirling the trimmed stem between her fingers. Her own gifted flowers from a past day probably have long rotted into the lawn she threw them into.

She remembers being only sixteen when Roy, the eighteen year old apprentice, came storming into the house. Black and blue and furious as he was, he almost got away with entirely avoiding her insistent string of demands for an explanation, for a purpose. They argued all the way up the stairs, Riza having left the dinner on the stove in her haste and determination, when she finally managed to corner him near their adjacent bedrooms.

And, Riza, as much as a recluse as she admitted to being, was not ignorant in the pastimes of a young, charming Roy Mustang. She would hear her classmates, most noticeably one named Amelia, swoon in their seats about him.

Riza knew Roy loved this attention, where a small town devoured all that was new and different and interesting as the young alchemist was. On days her father’s classes weren’t scheduled, he slipped out of the house, slithered into the crevices of their town that the classmates would rumor about for days afterwards.

Riza knew this, knew how terribly second-thought she was to Roy Mustang who probably only saw her as a confidant he could come back to when there was something to complain about. Regardless, she persisted with him, because Roy was very much the opposite with her, her only significance.

Their quarrel lasted only a little bit longer, until Roy thought it pointless to continue as your father is here, this is ridiculous, he’ll hear us. In which, Riza who had no real fear of either men in the house, scoffed. She was smug, and he glowered.

Eventually, she remembers more vividly than the rest of it, they ended up sitting on her bed, and Roy admitted it all to her. A classmate of hers, one long since forgotten, said something about the big house away from town that hid a deranged man and his even more strange daughter, a common thing for that boy to say, she knew well enough.

Roy reasoned his behavior and wounds with only that, it making enough sense for him, and Riza was left silent. They sat in that quiet for a moment, Roy running his fingers across his bruised cheek, cringing. And she, in her avoidance of anything regarding him, maybe in embarrassment, gratitude, relief for something she didn’t know, found her eyes falling on the vase holding the dried, and withered Arnica he had picked her. She was overcome with a very sudden realization.

Riza leapt off the bed, startling him, and tugged out a flower from the vase, and brought it to him. He took it, but squinted up at her, asking silently. She leaned over his hands, tearing off a fragment, remembering her mother doing the very same thing for her, when she came home with bruised knees and a pitiful face.

She told him to eat it, and when he shows his obvious reluctance, she told him what her mother once told her. Arnica is medicinal when taken in small amounts, she explained, and deadly when taken in abundance. She started her usual string of reassurances, and the insistence that it was the least she can do when he abruptly took her face in his hands. And he brought her real close, so close she could smell the alcohol from his lips, and then he leaned in and kissed her nose, her cheek, and she was frozen in his palms. A frail and giddy part of her shouted you missed, but it never reached her voice. He laughed and pulled away, maybe, not completely, at all, sober, she thought. Her heart beat fast and she still stared, with those wide, wide eyes.

She also thought that she may not have been as insignificant in the young alchemist’s eyes as she might have assumed.

Those very same flowers become her solace in the months after the engravement of flame alchemy onto her spine. Her mother always dried the arnica she would pick in the sun, then grounded them to be kept in jars. Simple painkillers to get and to make without committing to the trek to town, which Riza would refuse to do in the wake of the tattoo, always feeling like they could see right through her shirt, the disgrace. She felt dirty, and found the only way to cleanse herself was to seclude her entire being from everyone and everything.

The Arnica Roy had given her saved her the struggle of leaving the house, the winter stealing all signs of any flower from the ground. She took it in remnants, hiding away in her bed until finally remembering her mother’s words. Too much of a good thing, is not so great a thing, Riza. And she remembers what she said to Roy, that an abundance of arnica is fatal. Each remembrance bringing her more solidly to the question of why?

Why take so little to stifle the pain? Why wait in constant, ceaseless anticipation for Roy’s letters, his words from the academy while she lay in her bed, her father wasting away in the basement just below her. She was nothing more than a slate, a book to someday be opened by the wrong hands, seen by the wrong eyes, and to be the cause of destruction. She twirls the final flower in her hands, and considers eating each and every part of it.

But she doesn’t. She dumps the vase out her window, and returns to her bed.

Her father dies in the spring, and Roy returns to her, dressed in blue.

Let me show you something, and she gives him her burden.

Riza, now rid of the tattoo and war-torn, twirls the new flower in her palm. She’s angry with herself, very suddenly, very righteously. She thinks of her friend, the bruised alchemist that punched someone for saying something wrong about her, and the man who would have taken all the weight from her hands if he could, if he had the power. She thinks of the arnica on her nightstand, and the phone dragged so close to the bed, and the cigarettes on the counter, and how she’s so, so, so sorry.

How awful she has been to him, from the moment she found him in that hot, hot desert, and till the train ride home. She dragged him into something she couldn’t have expected him to want, but wished oh, so horribly much that he would just suffer with her. He would heal her, and save the day, and share it with her. How is it fair?

The fires of Ishval seemed only a manifestation of her mistake. His hands were the ignition, but she was the key.

She feels like she could vomit, she hates herself, shedding her clothes, and forcing him to see, to take, take, take it from her. She hates him, killing innocent lives with a power that horrifying, awful power. She loves him, kissing her in a stupor on her nose, and keeping the phone close to her bed. She is sorry, he runs from the blood that is hers, coating his hands, and she only gives him resentment.

They’re both killers now, though.

Who’s to blame?

She thinks, both of us, as she lays her head on the pillow, the pills kicking in.

She wakes groggily, to the clanking of glass, and the movement of feet.

She jolts awake, instincts telling her to ready herself, but it’s only Roy cleaning the towel from the nightstand, looking startled by her sudden movement.

“Sorry, I uh… Did you break this?” and he’s whispering for some reason. She can smell the smoke from his jacket, and something angry fills her veins again.

She nods, embarrassed, and he gives her that look that she had been avoiding. He carries the towel out, returning quickly with a new glass of water, setting it down on the nightstand. There is a stool dragged from the kitchen to her bedside, but he dare not sit in it now, not with her eyes on him. He waits until she’s far into sleep to come near her. She wishes he didn’t.

He stands awkwardly in the dark of the room, night now looming over the city. He must have rushed out of the office as quickly as possible, she assumes, his hair misshapen from the wind still. He’s about to rush out of the room, as quickly as he came, to wait for her to go back to sleep, but she stops him with a question. A mundane thing, an easy thing, “How was work?” It’s so simple that it’s flustered, and it’s stiff, not feeling right.

He pivots on his heel, very, very confused by the interaction, and stumbles over his words for a moment, “It was good.” and then he takes a breath, slows a little. “They promoted me.” He releases a smile, a quick thing, only slipping past for a second.

She smiles in her subtle way, too, even if she saw it coming. She’s proud of him. She’ll admit it now.

He opens his mouth for a moment, but then closes it, the room is even quieter than before, though the atmosphere is heavy around them. It’s heavy with the words they’ve wanted to pour out for days. Roy hesitantly sits on the stool, maybe feeling the same way she is.

“I’m going to have to assemble a team.” he muses to her. She feels teleported back to her old, old bedroom where she and the young alchemist would lay and talk for hours, days. She feels light, laying on her side and looking up at him, the window giving light to his features. He looks weary. “I don’t think that will be so hard, I know some good soldiers.” his eyes linger on hers for a moment longer.

She nods, agreeing with him. As charismatic, and driven as she knows he is, there will be an abundance of soldiers jumping for the position. She thinks of resigning before that happens, she thinks of a lot of ways she could escape.

His small conversation morphs into something more somber, now, and his eyes droop, shoulders falling. He looks so tired, and he sighs, “Riza…I...”

She tries to beat him to it, “It’s okay.”

“No, no it’s…” and his lip does that thing, the very same thing when she first showed him her tattoo, dropped her shirt and revealed what had happened when he was so very far away. Deaf to her pleas, screams. “I’m so sorry.”

And it’s the first time he’s said it since the night of the fire scorching her back. She was too paralyzed to respond to him that night, instead burying herself in his chest, tearing at his shirt. Crying, sobbing, begging for him to stop, and he couldn’t.

His head cranes near to hers, until it falls onto her hands, his shoulders are shaking, but his hands are still at his sides. “Forgive me, Forgive me,” he whimpers, cries into her palms.

She maneuvers so that her head is closer to his, and she’s holding his, keeping him steady while her hands shake.

“I’m sorry, Roy, I’m sorry, too.” she’s chanting quietly in his ear, and he brings his arms up and around her head, cradling her cheek, stroking her hair. They’re apologizing profusely and repeatedly into each other’s shoulders, hands, necks until they’re only just saying each other’s names in the dark, dark room.

They don’t speak of it the morning, but the air seems lighter around them.

Two weeks later, he asks her to be his eyes, guard his back, watch his hands, and she accepts, thinking he looks more awake than he has ever seen him.

#royai #fmab #fma #fullmetal alchemist #roy mustang #riza hawkeye #royai fic #fullmetal alchemist brotherhood

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lightsaberss · 7 years

Text

The Meaning of Death

So I had an idea for an AU where Riza goes missing after the Promised Day and is presumed dead, and then two years later she turns up with no memories. I started writing it, and this is what I ended up with. I might continue this as there’s so much more I’d like to do with this idea, but for now, here’s a one shot.

The rain was cold and relentless, and she was running.

Her mind was blank, and she was running as if she knew the streets. Running as fast as she could, running so fast that her chest hurt and her legs ached. She didn't stop. Couldn't stop. Not until there was silence behind her, and she could still hear footsteps and shouts, so she had to keep going. Had to keep running. She'd run until she bled, until the floor was smeared with vomit, if she had to. She wasn't going back. She'd die first.

No. She wouldn't. Something nagged her, she wasn't allowed to die. She'd clung to that thought through beatings, bright lights, injections, through pain and distress. She didn't know what it meant anymore, but she knew it was something she wasn't allowed to do. So she kept running.

***

Captain Jean Havoc could think of a million things he'd rather be doing than going to pick up Brigadier General Roy 'I've fallen into a whiskey bottle and I can't get out. Again' Mustang, but somebody had to. Breda had drawn the short straw last time, and Fuery was on a date with a nerdy chick from accounts, so while he had better things to do, it was him or no one. Well, maybe Becca, but that normally lead to bitter screaming matches in the middle of the street, and Havoc wanted that even less.

He couldn't blame the man, not really. They'd gotten their bodies back in working order, they'd saved the country, and Ishval was being rebuilt back to it's former glory, but the cost had been high, and they all felt it like a bitter ache in their chests. The General though, he'd been a broken man ever since they'd been given the news. Sure, he worked hard, but Havoc couldn't remember the last time he'd seen the man crack a smile when he wasn't Acting The Part, or whatever it was she'd called it.

The she in question; Riza Hawkeye, had died two years ago, and nothing had been the same since.

Havoc was lost in thoughts, about Riza, the General, Rebecca, and their grief, when a terrified and bloodied woman run into traffic, causing him to slam on the breaks. Hard.

She stared at him. He stared back.

Long blonde hair was plastered to her face, and her clothes (they looked like surgical scrubs, Havoc thought) were soaked through to the point where they were clinging to her body. There were bruises on her face and arms, and she was splattered in blood, but there was no mistaking those impossibly wide brown eyes.

Riza Hawkeye. The woman who had died on the Promised Day, was alive, and staring at him.

"What the fuck?" He muttered, before opening the car door, and stepping out into the cold rain. How long had she been out in this? She must be freezing.

"Riza?!" He asked.

"Who?" She asked. "Please, I need help. There's… I can't explain, but please?"

There were so many things wrong with this scenario, and if it got him killed then he hoped Rebecca wouldn't hold it against him. He couldn't leave her here though, not when every sense was screaming at him that this was his friend - his sister in arms. Even if it was something else, they'd need to get to the bottom of it.

"Get in." Havoc said, and got back in behind the wheel as she jumped into the passenger seat.

"Drive." She ordered, and okay, the evidence that this was Riza just kept adding up. She used the same tone when giving orders, that's for sure. Still, he did what she asked, and he drove.

***

The tall man was silent, and for some reason it bothered her. Like he should be chatting, or at least asking her questions. It wasn't normal for women to run out into traffic like that, was it? But something kept him silent, kept his thoughts from becoming questions that she didn't even want to answer, and it was annoying. Still, she was grateful that he was driving her away, and he'd even put the heating on when she'd started to shiver.

"Thank you." She said, eventually. After the silence became too much, and looked far too relieved that she'd started to speak. This was his car, he could've started the damn conversation if he wanted to.

"No problem." He said. "So. What happened?"

Blood. Screaming. Fire. She didn't know what she'd done, not well enough to explain it to a stranger that didn't sound crazy.

"I escaped." She said, as if that was an explanation, which she knew it wasn't.

"Well. No offence, but I can see that." He said. "Fuck, Hawkeye, we thought you were dead, and then you just run out into traffic like that. What the fuck is going on?"

Hawkeye? And what had he called her before, was it Riza? It felt alien, but she mouthed the names to try to get a taste for them, to see if saying them felt familiar, but it didn't. It felt hollow and strange, like the name of a person she'd never met before.

"I don't know…" She said. She didn't know him, she didn't know who this Riza Hawkeye person was. All she knew was the bright lights, and the pain that had been her constant companion for what felt like her life. "I don't know anything."

"Right. Okay. Right." He said. "We're going to get this sorted."

"We?" She asked. "And why? And who is this Riza person? And who are you?"

"That's a lot of questions," He said. "Right. Fine, it's fair, this whole situation is fucking weird anyway-"

Well. She couldn't argue with that.

"Okay, I'm Jean Havoc. Riza Hawkeye - who looked exactly like you - was my colleague." He - Jean - said.

"Colleague?"

"Yeah." He said. "We were in the military - well, I still am - but she died a couple of years ago. Which is why you looking like her is pretty fucking weird -"

"I'm not dead." She said, quietly.

She wasn't dead. She'd clung to life, sometimes with the tips of her fingernails digging into it, holding onto it out of desperation, and she couldn't remember why she'd been so desperate to keep living, other than she didn't want to die.

"I'm not allowed to die." She said, her voice still quiet.

Jean slammed on the breaks, and stared at her in surprise. "What did you say?"

"I - why did you stop?"

"What did you just say?" He repeated.

"I'm not allowed to die." She said, her voice stronger this time and she stared at him defiantly, as if he was one of the people from the lab. One of the people that wouldn't break her - but had they broken her? Had she just forgotten?

"This is so fucked." Was all he had to say, and he started driving again.

He didn't answer anymore of her questions.

***

Rebecca Catalina was actually used to being dragged out of bed in the early hours of the morning by Jean Havoc, but those phone calls were normally a lot more What Are You Wearing? And a lot less Come To This Safe House And Bring Extra Clothes And A First Aid Kit And Don't Tell Mustang But Oh Shit Someone Needs To Pick Him Up. If this turned out to be some sort of weird sex thing, she was so going to punch him.

Grabbing the duffle bag from the back seat, she made her way to the front door and knocked. The rain still hadn't let up, and she pouted as her curly hair started to get wet. She was holding the bag over her head when Jean opened it, and whatever snarky comment was about to come out of her mouth without thinking died right there on her tongue.

"What is it?" She asked, softly. He never looked this worried, that was normally more Breda's thing. At least it had been since… but she didn't want to think about it. "Is it the General, has he done something stupid?"

"It's not Mustang." He pulled her into one of the rooms off the hallway and closed the door. Okay. Weird.

"So what is it? Did Breda get the idiot home safe?" Rebecca asked.

"Yeah." He said. "Look. This is going to sound crazy, and believe me, I know, but I was driving to pick him up from Madame Christmas's and this woman ran out in front of me and I swear it's Riza."

Rebecca felt like her mind had stopped. The duffle bag fell from her hand onto the floor with a thud and she stared at it. Was that why he needed the clothes? The first aid kit? Was that why they were here? Was Riza here?

"That's… where is she?" Rebecca asked. "I want to see her, Jean."

"Upstairs. She wanted a shower, and she was pretty bloodied up. She didn't tell me what happened but…" Jean shrugged. "Look, Becca, she doesn't remember anything. Not her name, not me, and I mentioned you and… nothing."

The amount of terrible things that could've happened to cause that would've been overwhelming if Rebecca let herself think of them, but she blocked them out and blinked back the tears that were stinging her eyes. She couldn't fall apart. She wouldn't fall apart. If it was her, Riza would keep it together.

"Is that why you called me instead of him?" She accused.

"No. Well. Partly." Jean admitted. "I just think right now she needs someone to patch her up and… be a friend. The General drunk off his ass isn't who we need right now."

Rebecca nodded in agreement, a drunk Mustang was the last thing any of them needed. She picked up the duffle bag and walked up the stairs and knocked on the bathroom door.

"You decent?"

"Um, sure."

It was Riza, sitting on the edge of the tub and wrapped in a towel. A little skinnier, a little more bruised, and some of those scars hadn't been there before, but it was Riza. Rebecca had to physically restrain herself from launching herself at her best friend. Instead she just tried to smile as warmly as possible, and hoped it wasn't coming across like a crazy maniac smile.

"Do you remember me?" Rebecca closed the door behind her with a click and got out the first aid kit.

"No. Sorry. I don't remember Jean either." Okay, Riza calling him anything other than Havoc, that was going to take some getting used to.

"I'm Rebecca, we went to the Academy together." She explained. As if that scratched the surface of their friendship together, the late nights complaining about men, the shopping trips, the bottles of wine and Xingese food they'd consumed by the bucket. "We were friends."

"Oh." Riza said.

"Hey, don't feel bad about it." Rebecca said, and she took Riza's hands in hers. Her fingers her calloused and her knuckles were bruised. Had she fought her way out of somewhere? "Do you remember anything?"

Rebecca rubbed antiseptic lotion over the grazes, and gently inspected her friend's arms, legs and feet for any other cuts. Where she found them, she cleaned them gently, and she listened as Riza started to speak.

"An old house. A man locked behind a door. A boy with black hair. A library. Needles. Sand. Fire. Guns. A dog. A storm. A metal man. And I'm not allowed to die." She listed quietly. Rebecca stared at the floor for a moment, trying to piece it together and also trying not to burst into tears.

"That's something." Rebecca said. "Or at least it's a start. We can help you put it together and get your memories back."

Riza nodded, and pulled the towel around herself tighter. "I was held in a lab." She offered. "I could probably find it again."

Rebecca stared at her, she hadn't even thought about going after the bastards that did this. She'd been thinking about getting her friend back, not sending the fuckers to hell for turning her best friend into a person that looked at her like a stranger. "Good." Rebecca said. "We'll find them, and make them pay for this. But first, let's check your back for injuries."

The fact that Riza had a tattoo on her back wasn't a surprise, Rebecca had seen hints of it over the years, and she'd stopped buying the whole 'scars from Ishval' excuse for avoiding backless dresses about six months after she came back. This, however, was not what Rebecca was expecting. The blood red ink, and burn scars, there was a story here that Riza couldn't tell her, a part of her life permanently etched onto her skin that she had forgotten.

Mustang probably knew about it. She'd seen that symbol on his gloves enough times to know what it meant.

"Do you know what it means?" Riza asked. "The tattoo. I saw it in the mirror but I don't remember. Obviously."

"You never told me about it. It was something private," Rebecca answered honestly. "But Mustang might know."

"Mustang?"

"General Whatever. He was your superior and you guys had a weird history." Rebecca said.

"Right." Riza frowned. "Can I get dressed now?"

"Oh, uh, sure." Rebecca said, and dragged her eyes away from the flame alchemy array on Riza's back. "There are clothes in the duffle bag. Come downstairs when you're ready and we'll have food."

Rebecca left the room feeling more confused than she had when she went in. It looked like Riza, sounded like her, but she never thought she'd live in a world where Riza Hawkeye didn't know who General Mustang was. She'd never been his biggest fan, but that - more than anything else - proved to her how serious this was.

Riza might be back, but without her memories who was she? And where had she been?

#Riza Haweye #Jean Havoc #Rebecca Catalina #Havolina #AU Fic #Katy writes fic #I have no idea how to tag this #I really don't #Memory loss au fic #Or something #A Tremor Took Hold

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