FMA Fic - Hope smiles on the threshold
Title: Hope smiles on the threshold
Fandom: Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood/Manga
Word Count: 1005
Rating: PG/ PG-13
Characters: Roy Mustang/Riza Hawkeye
Summary: They meet through the seasons.
Warnings: Spoilers up till Ishbal. Somewhat shippy?
(winter is for regret)
when the first snow falls, they are (almost) friends.
-
"What are you doing?" Riza asks, thick mittens covering up a small laugh.
"Making a snowman, obviously."
The reply is immune from embarrassment, and in fact, Roy even dares to give her a cheeky grin. She raises an eyebrow in response.
"It's... unique." Which is as diplomatic a word as any that Riza can come up with for something that looks closer to a mutilated platypus than to any snowman she has ever seen.
"Well, we don't get a lot of snow in Central, so you know," he shrugs "Still, I don't think it’s too bad for a first try."
Her eyebrow shoots up higher.
"Of course if you're going to critique, you could always show me how it’s properly done."
His grin flashes even brighter while he says that, and she swears that he almost appears sincere.
(but you shouldn't trust boys, her father mutters, especially smart ones, and her back itches and bites where vibrant ink runs, while her father coughs indoors with blood as bright as the salamander she can't see)
"Perhaps next time, Mr. Mustang."
But when she is back inside that (almost) empty house, she can't help but to sneak glances out the window towards Roy, still diligently working on the failed snowman, and to wonder if maybe it wouldn't have hurt if she had made an exception for him.
(autumn is for loss)
when the first leaves begin to fall, they are (almost) lovers
-
Riza waits with Roy at the train station, fingers nervously picking at the hem of her skirt while he bites his lips; both unsure of how to act around one another when they're so exposed to the public.
"Remember you can... well, just call me. If you ever need help or something..."
Riza smiles vaguely at Roy, and he rubs the back of his head awkwardly. Approaching them is the train, gradually slowing to its steady stop.
"Don't worry Mr. Mustang. I'll remember."
The corners of his lips turn up a little, but it’s more of a twitch than a smile and Riza suddenly realizes that they are not so different after all.
(but he can decipher the secrets she does not understand, he can yield the flame, while all she can do is burn under his touch and trust that he will not hurt her, at least not very much)
The train's whistle blows, but before Roy boards it he gives Riza a hug.
"Thank you," he whispers, his breath warm against her ear so that for a moment she feels funny and thinks that maybe she will never let him go.
But the moment passes, and Roy boards the train, leaving her alone at the station with only a fall breeze to keep her company.
Unconsciously she fingers his phone number in her pocket and tears it to pieces.
(summer is for endurance)
when the grass withers under the afternoon sun, they are (almost) enemies
-
"Is it my fault, everything you've done here in Ishbal?" Riza asks slowly, carefully weighing the question.
The glow of the fire casts shadows across Roy's face that makes him hard to read. Riza is grateful for this because she doesn't want to see his eyes, so dark and dead, that must mirror the emotions in her own.
"Stop blaming yourself for the actions that I committed. If anything blame me for dragging you with me to this hell."
His tone is not venomous or bitter, just exhausted and matter of fact. The fire crackles and a loose spark lands on Riza's shoe. It quickly dies.
(but for a moment she imagines it as a blaze, consuming her like the blood that seeps from his hands except it’s not blood but glory that burns and takes and they're both killers, which should be a chemical equality all its own)
“I did," Riza confesses, "for awhile."
For a moment the shadows leave and she can see his face in full clarity. It doesn't hurt as much as she expected.
"I only meant well," he says looking down at his hands, pristine gloves covering tainted fingers underneath.
"I know," she whispers and its neither forgiveness nor acceptance, but understanding.
A wind blows through them, and they both lean a little closer to the flames. Tomorrow will be another scorching day, but tonight it is cold and maybe they can pretend that the distance between them isn't as impenetrable as it seems.
(spring is for renewal)
when the flowers bloom, they (almost) start again
-
Roy waits for Riza the day the bandages are removed from her back.
"I figured you might need an umbrella," he says after she exits the doctor’s office (though calling it an office is generous; the treatment is rough, but she won't risk going to the big hospital in East City where Roy can't pay the doctors not to ask questions). Outside she can hear the rain patter and she can't deny her gratefulness.
Roy offers Riza his arm and for a moment she hesitates at the closeness. But then he gives her a small smile, and she finds herself looping her arm with his.
"Thank you," she says as they exit the building together.
He shakes his head, "It's the least I could do."
The rain falls down harder and Roy presses Riza a bit closer to him so that she doesn't get wet. A silence descends upon them, and then he tumbles the words out almost guiltily, "Does your back hurt much?"
"No. Not anymore."
"Good," he breathes out and finding her hand, squeezes it a bit.
(tomorrow she will come to him as an aide and she will be given a gun that will one day be pointed at his head. but today her hand feels warm in his and her back feels raw and clean and maybe it’s almost enough to pretend)
So she doesn't let go of his hand and the rain washes them anew.
Orginally posted: November 7, 2010 - November 26, 2010