Chapter Text
Disclaimer: I do not own Fullmetal Alchemist
That "war" was over yet Riza Hawkeye couldn't stop the conflict in her heart.
Of course she thought of killing him. But what would that accomplish? Sending a bullet cleanly through Major Mustang's head would make about as much sense as bashing her rifle to pieces against the wall of her hideout – there'd be mess to clean up and a reprimand for sure, but ultimately another weapon would be ordered, primed and ready to end lives the next day. And that's looking at matters surgically; throwing her heart into the mix made shooting him chaotically, impossibly difficult. Take that into account with the fact that she was the one who made him so desirable to the military, so dangerous… it was complicated to say the least.
She gave him the secrets in good faith. Flame alchemy would decidedly set him apart from his peers, springing him through the ranks and giving him more opportunities, and she understood just as well as he did how good this would be for him. And since he was so genuinely good, the young and innocent Riza had reasoned, the country would benefit from having him in a position to make decisions. But she couldn't have predicted that the power above him in the chain of command would be hell-bent on orchestrating genocide under the guise of a war to protect the good people of Amestris. Riza read the orders herself… as well as the punishment that would come should one not follow them. She'd always wondered if the frequently quoted "kill or be killed" mentality was referring to the right party.
Riza Hawkeye spent many a sleepless night in her tent analyzing her purpose in the world: the morality of her service in the war, the reason for having to bear the key to flame alchemy on her back, the pros and cons of empowering someone with that knowledge. No one ever said life was fair and her father had made it clear that nothing would come easily for her. The very act of preserving his life's work into her skin imposed upon her identity a dehumanizing quality, and it sickened her to think of her body as being the means through which a good person could be warped into a weapon of mass destruction.
Yes, deep in her heart she couldn't blame Roy for this evil anymore than she could blame herself for entrusting him with it. Her conscience reminded her that it could've been a horrendous lapse in judgment, but the torture she saw in his eyes confirmed that each lethal snap of his fingers tore away at his soul, just as each awful, perfect shot did to hers. She refused to accept that her life would be forever anchored to the wretched array on her back and she needed Roy Mustang, her own personal monster, to understand… to destroy the possibility of another person committing the same atrocities, however inadvertently, that they had.
Roy sat on his cot, arms loosely stretched out on the makeshift desk before him, empty eyes staring into nothingness as he tried to get a grip on everything around him. The sand, the blood, the fire, the red… so much red. Why is everything red. Eyes, flames, lifeblood flooding the sands. That blasted color. Not a night went by that Roy's subconscious wasn't drenched in crimson, drowning him in his sleep as he recounted the murderous hours of his days. The reddish glow of his lamp was practically laughing at him as he tortured himself as his nightly routine demanded. Even though the war was declared over a few weeks ago, his unit wasn't due to ship out until later this week. Which was just fine for him – he deserved to suffer in his solitude, in those haunting red shadows of his tent.
She entered the tent silently, unnoticeably, as expected of a sniper of her caliber. But her aura is something he would always be able to sense. Her presence never failed to send waves right through him, assuring him that his other half was gravitating nearby just as his entire being wants (but definitely doesn't deserve) her to. After all, there was no Roy Mustang without Riza Hawkeye.
The cot announced her arrival, squeaking under her weight as she sat down on her knees, head coming to rest on his shoulder, her cheek warm against his own and arms wrapping around him. Suddenly the world stopped spinning and Roy took a shuddering breath before cradling his face in his hands, feeling so terribly safe and so incredibly shattered all at once. She had bestowed upon him a precious gift and he fucked everything up. Everything. And now she has a scar forming on her back with his name on it and even though she swears up and down that his burning of the tattoo allowed for the salvation of her identity, he can't help but feel a wave of nausea rush over him every time he remembers that night. The way the smell of her burning flesh permeated the air, how her body jerked as she braced herself against the flames. The way he tasted blood from her lips when she tried to assure him, with a heart-wrenching smile on her face, that it hadn't hurt that bad at all. She was a hell of a liar, but he could always see right through her mendacity.
Knowing him perhaps better than he knew himself, Riza took his hands in her own, further enveloping him in that confident security she couldn't always have for herself but would never fail to give to him.
She slid her hand down the length of his arm and picked up his pen, angling it towards a single blank sheet of paper, most likely intended to carry a letter home to his aunt. He felt her turn her head towards his, lips pressed to his cheek, noses barely touching. Melting. He was melting. And then she started to write.
I don't hate you.
But I do. I hate me so fucking much. Roy tried to bring a hand up to cover his eyes but she quickly regained her clasp, intertwining their fingers and holding his hand firmly against his chest. Her hand, small but strong against his, warmed him with a gentle squeeze. After giving him another light kiss on his cheek, she continued.
Sometimes I wonder if I should have given you the secrets.
She paused, as if wanting to make sure he sincerely considered each word before she moved on to the next sentence.
I do not doubt your heart.
Another pause.
I am so sor
Before she could finish, Roy had her pinned against his cot, hands gripping her wrists. They both seemed to be holding their breath as something burning within his eyes threatened to smother her.
"No," the harsh whisper shattered through the quiet calm that had cloaked the tent. "I will not accept that. Not from you." An apology from Riza for giving him the key to flame alchemy was the equivalent of putting all of his sins upon her shoulders. Giving her credit for all of his actions as if she was the criminal mastermind behind the massacre done by the hands of the infamous Flame Alchemist. Clearly she was striving to shift his guilt onto herself, but doing so would not only be ridiculously unfair for her but completely false: Roy was responsible for his actions as much as she was for hers. She gave him an option, not a command.
It felt nice to have his body so close especially as the world was falling apart. She was having difficulty rationalizing everything. The unjustified murder for the past several months contrasted with the celebrating soldiers just beyond his tent weighed heavily on her nerves, but the light in his eyes, however flickering as it was in this godforsaken desert, grounded her. And, on top of everything, he freed her from that demon in the back of her conscience, the one that constantly reminded her that her body could destroy a nation.
When Roy finally lowered his lips to hers, her body – her perfectly harmless body – went electric and she pulled him in closer, drinking him in. He began unbuttoning her uniform, his mouth following his fingers as he scattered kisses along her jaw line and down her neck. After undoing a couple buttons he came upon the necklace he had transmuted for her a few years ago. On the same day, actually, that her father divested her of her independence that she claims he had allowed her to reclaim less than two weeks ago. The small emerald dangling at the end of the silver chain shimmered splendidly on her collarbone and his heart beat at a quicker tempo thinking about how she faithfully wore it beneath her uniform. Her fingers raking through his hair ripped him from his reverie and he continued his attention to her skin, earning a moan from her that traveled from the vibrations in her throat down to the heat gathering below his belt. Within minutes their clothes were strewn across the floor, his mouth was on hers, and their bodies locked together without an inch of space between them as they ravenously took all of each other in as if their lives depended on it.
This wasn't the first time he'd been with her like this, but every time he hears her gasp as his body joins hers he could kill himself for not making a move sooner. He must have loved her long before it registered in his head and it frustrated him to no end to think that he could have been expressing his affection for her years ago. But, on the other hand, her loving him was still so much more than he deserved so he would gratefully accept any blissful moment she was willing to share with him. Roy knew without a doubt that he would always crave her, especially as their bodies moved together, her nails clutching at his back and his teeth teasing at her neck. He pulled back to look into her eyes but her hand gripping the hair on his head forces him back into a deep kiss, eliciting a groan from him that nearly sets them both off. Ultimately, it all starts and ends too quickly for both of them, but they don't regret a second of it.
Once they caught their breath, Riza situated herself over him, flinging one of her legs over his and resting her head on the hands she had folded on his chest, looking him in the eyes as she read his expression. The faint glow from the lamp revealed his furrowed brow and slight frown, shadows powerless to conceal his brooding countenance even while one of his hands absentmindedly massaged the dip of her lower back. His eyes were vacant, and for a moment it seemed as if he was looking right through her, as if she wasn't even there. Slightly uncomfortable, she started to speak but he cut her off.
"I didn't even think to ask if I was hurting you."
Her back was still a little tender, but nothing at all for him to worry about. Especially in light of the fact that she felt so incredibly relieved to have the bit of healing skin there in place of a lethal code. Riza had accepted that her body would be irreversibly marred long ago, but now it was on her own terms and she was content for the first time in a while. To quell his concern, she leaned up and kissed him.
"I'm naked and in your arms. Can you stop being so morbid?" she chided, a smart glint in her eyes and a heart-warming smile dancing on her lips that dispelled Roy's darkened features and restored the focus in his eyes. Her head settled back atop her hands as she once again considered him. "You did a good job with the bandages."
"Yes but-" she caught the rest of his sentence in her mouth as she kissed him languidly, her hands in his hair and her body moving to straddle his. He groaned into her lips as he brought his hands up to her hips, again losing himself in the divinity that is Riza Hawkeye.
"Enough, Roy," she breathed, "There's no point in dwelling on what we can't change. It's time to move forward." Her eyes pierced his, keeping him silent. "What we should be discussing," she whispered into his ear, the heat of it causing his breath to hitch, "is how you're going to get me stationed to Central with you."