Fullmetal Alchemist Fan Fiction ❯ I Skip the Little Ones ❯ Theme 12: Proof ( Chapter 12 )

A/N: Thank you, Ruingaraf and MoonStarDuchess, for your awesome reviews!

Also, this is the first in a fun little group I've written about `the wedding.' Please enjoy their torture.

And: A quick, somewhat selfish request for my readers: If you see any typos, errors, inconsistencies, etc., don't be afraid to shove them in my face. I would actually enjoy that. Thank you!

 

Theme 12: Proof

Arsdale

 

It had been a long time since she had last worn a dress. She frowned at herself in the mirror. The dress was white silk with a tight, plain bodice. The skirt flared out slightly just below her waist and dragged along the floor. A mint green sash had been tied - tightly! - Between the sash and the corset, she could hardly breathe! - with an elaborate knot around her waist. The dress's sleeves were white lace over even more damnable white silk. She had wanted to wear her military uniform, buy Winry, Rebecca, Sarah, and Shezka had had fits worthy of a toddler. She hadn't seen the point; it wasn't like he was going to care, and his opinion was all she really cared about, anyway… but she had relented, if only to save her friends the pain of having a seizure, or something similar. She sighed.

 

Her hair was almost as annoying as the dress. Most of it pulled up into a smooth, tight bun, with several curled strands hanging free around her face. She hated that. Hair should be up, or it should be down, and that was it. She couldn't stomach any of this sissy half-done crap.

 

And then there was the makeup. She scowled at her reflection. “Why the Hell am I doing this?”

 

“Because,” Rebecca answered, her smile slipping into a disapproving frown. “Don't make such disgusting faces at the mirror, Riza, it's very un-ladylike.”

 

“Because you love him, that's why you're doing it,” Winry said, business-like. Riza wondered whether Edward had asked her out yet. He said he would. I bet he chickened out. Again.

 

“It's so romantic!” Shezka trilled, grinning like a fool. She was the worst hopeless romantic Riza knew.

 

Riza sighed again. “You guys could've at least let me keep my gun.” If Winry looked scandalized, Shezka was absolutely shocked. Rebecca just shook her head and tapped her foot impatiently.

 

“Riza-,” she began.

 

“It was a gift from Roy,” she continued, speaking right over her friend. She was awarded is a disgruntled glare. “It's a nice gun, too, the newest model from Arsdale.” She wondered how he knew she preferred Arsdale guns above all others, even the military-issue Rochesters (which, surprisingly, weren't all that bad). It wasn't as if she had told him, and she didn't think it was noticeable - she only had one; it was an expensive rifle, but completely worth it - but somehow he knew.

 

Suddenly she laughed. That's my answer. Because he knew. “Winry, give me back my sidearm, will you?” Riza asked (well, commanded, but with a question mark… that is still asking, right?) as she hurried to her bag, cursing her needlessly long skirts.

 

“What? No, I'm not going to give it to you! It's your wedding day, you won't need it.”

 

“Actually, I think I will need it. There it is!” Riza pulled her thigh holster from her bag, and then turned triumphantly to her friends.

 

“Why do you keep that with you?” Shezka asked, sounding like she was about to faint. She may have been a tad pale, too, but it was hard to tell with all the face paint.

 

“Don't worry about it,” she told Shezka offhandedly, concentrating on Winry. “I won't shoot anyone needlessly, I promise, but I do need that gun if you want me to walk down that aisle.” In front of all those people. Crap. She fought the urge to gulp - or run out of the place screaming, whichever came first.

 

Perhaps she looked as nervous as she felt, because Winry gave her an odd look and - to Rebecca and Schezka's surprise and horror - knelt and produced a lockbox from out of God-knew-where. The key appeared as if by magic in her hand. Riza didn't know where she'd been keeping it, and she wasn't sure she wanted to find out.

Winry quickly unlocked the box, then stared, confused. “Which one is it?” she asked quietly.

 

Riza leaned over the girl's shoulder, in order to see better. There were three handguns in the lockbox: two Rochesters and her Arsdale. “That one,” she said, pointing to the one on the right.

 

“Mmm.” Winry motioned Riza closer. Curious, Riza complied. “I get it,” Winry told her quietly. “I wouldn't be able to go out there without my wrench tucked away someplace, either.” The blonde winked, then continued a bit louder. “No shooting?” she asked, picking up the gun and handing it over.

 

“Just like I said.” Riza smiled at the girl, then at the small firearm. This was her proof, her proof that Roy loved her and that she was not a fool for parading that around in front of everyone in the country… On the planet, actually, but let's not think about that. She lifted her obnoxious skirts and strapped the holster firmly to her leg, then slipped the Arsdale in place.

 

Everything would be all right.