Fullmetal Alchemist Fan Fiction ❯ Words that Linger in the Silence ❯ Words that Linger in the Silence ( Chapter 1 )

[ T - Teen: Not suitable for readers under 13 ]

Words that Linger in the Silence
Author: blu_crystal_9
Rating: PG-13/T
Pairing: Roy/Riza
Warnings: Sexual implications and swearing.
Spoilers: Anything in the manga up to chapter 92.
Summary: As the promised day draws closer, the longing between Mustang and Hawkeye grows and Mustang becomes tired of the forced space between them.
Dedication: This is for my friend Amanda, who requested a fic with Roy/Riza using the prompt “Happiness is a Warm Gun” by the Beatles. I’m not sure if I did want you wanted... I tried to tie the fic in with the song somehow, but I think I kind of went off on a tangent and failed miserably. I’m sorry, I tried. :
Disclaimer: I do not own Fullmetal Alchemist or its respective characters, Arakawa Hiromu does. I am not gaining any profit from this; it is for entertainment purposes only.
Author’s Notes: This takes place throughout various parts of the manga, and then ends at the “Promised Day”. I quoted the manga like crazy… I may have gone a little overboard. :3 This fic is also posted on my account on LiveJournal and FanFiction.net.

This is another one I feel weird about… I don’t know if I like it or if I hate it. It feels like it’s just a mess of words all strung together. Blah. :



He knows that those hands of hers, with just one quick movement, could either kill him or save him.

She has saved him countless times; when he was reckless or impulsive or just plain stupid.

You’re useless when it’s raining.

Roy Mustang also knows that she is more than capable of ending his life. He wonders sometimes if she would actually be able to go through with it and put a bullet in his back if he became corrupt. But she made a promise to him and he knows that she will follow through with it until the end. If the worst happened she would shoot him. He trusts Riza Hawkeye with his life for this reason; he knows she will always keep her promises to him.

This is why he must not stray from his path.

She has followed him since the very beginning; when all she had left was an empty house, wilting flowers on a grave and hope in his foolish dream.

They were both young and naive, and too soon they were faced with the reality of Ishbal. But still he forged on and she vowed to protect his back.

He was the only thing she had left to believe in. Without him, she has nothing.

That woman doesn’t want to keep on living!

The memory of that night still haunts her. Not just because of her remembrance of the feeling of absolute cold, sickening dread when she had learned he was “dead”; it is also the fact that she had done nothing. She had simply fallen to the floor in despair and waited for the enemy to kill her. She had acted without thinking, she had given up. She had been a fool. If she had allowed the homunculus to kill her, it would have been in vain for he would still have been alive. It had been far too close.

Don’t let yourself get confused! Never stop thinking! Never give up the will to live! If you’re a soldier, if you’re my aide, be more firm than this.

His lecture to her in the hospital had caused her more pain than perhaps he realized. She had certainly deserved it, and she had felt angry at herself and ashamed for acting so stupidly. But it still hurt her to hear those words from him. You idiot! That had perhaps, been the worst. Because of her lapse in judgement, she felt like she had failed him. She had not been able to protect him, and now there were burns all down his abdomen to remind her of her incompetence. Not that she ever saw them, but she doesn’t forget.

Bleak, hopeless, numb. She does not want to feel these emotions so strongly ever again, and so she has vowed to herself to protect him even more than she has already. She would not hesitate, even at the expense of her own life. She will do anything possible to keep him safe because he is the only person that truly matters to her on this earth.

And never again will she believe he is dead unless she has seen it with her own eyes.

Diligence.

He is what anchors her to this world, he is her purpose. Without him, there is no reason, no purpose, no point.

He is the reason why she is in the military, why she holds a gun, why she shoots to kill.

For him, her aim never wavers.


It was no secret to Mustang that Hawkeye was in love with him; he had known for some time, even before the incident with Lust. Her despair at finding out he had been killed by Lust had shown her feelings for him even more vividly; it was not the shock of losing a superior officer, it was something that went much deeper.

He can’t exactly reprimand for it; she has never stated her feelings or acted in any way that suggested inappropriate for a lieutenant to act towards her commanding officer.

And he is just as guilty; he loves her so much it hurts sometimes.

He needs no confirmation to be sure how she feels about him; they have always known each other’s thoughts so intricately. They have in a way admitted their feelings to each other, but not aloud. Instead of showing their love for each other through words and touch, they have shown it through her unwavering loyalty to him and his unfailing trust in her. Subtlety, subtext. It’s what makes them who they are.

They just can’t act upon those feelings, not now.

Mustang is surprised at how calm he managed to arrange his features while in the Fuhrer’s office. Fullmetal is the complete opposite; he immediately becomes furious when he hears of Winry’s position as a hostage.

His features continue to stay carefully fixed into disgruntled calmness as the Fuhrer draws his net tighter; as his team is taken away, as he remembers that Hawkeye isn’t assigned somewhere far away like the rest of his faithful team. No she, his most precious team member, is assigned directly with the person he hates most. The one who is the most dangerous, the one she cannot fight with her bullets and sharp eyes. The Fuhrer is perceptive; he knows Mustang’s weakness, even though he tries extremely hard not to show it.

My pawn, my knight, my rook and my bishop... and my queen were taken away.

He sits in gloomy silence in his office as the paperwork on his desk and the heavy, anxious feeling in his heart grows by the hour.

Hawkeye leans her head against the cool porcelain of the sink, crumbled on her bathroom floor. All the lights in her apartment shine brightly, and she tries to force herself to stop trembling. She thought she saw the shadows move a moment ago and hasn’t been able to regain her composure from her encounter with Pride hours ago.

A child homunculus. The world is truly entering an apocalypse.

She hates how she is forced to fear the dark now. She has never feared it, even as a small child. But now it is what scares her the most.

She feels the press of her gun against her hip, but for once it does nothing to calm her. The shadows are not something she can fight. She is weak now, powerless.

For she cannot kill the shadows with bullets.

She cannot protect him anymore, she cannot watch his back. Her promise is useless; she is useless.

A broken sob escapes her throat as her eyes burn.

She is nothing but a hindrance. She is being used against him as a weakness, and what’s worst is that because of this she is keeping him from his goals.

Her knuckles tighten on the sink, turning white as she drags air into her lungs, blinking over and over again to keep herself from crying. Tears are pointless; they will not help her protect him.

She is worthless now.

He first notices the scratch on her cheek as he sits down across from her at lunch. It’s the first he’s seen of her in days and he relishes the brief contact. His blood runs cold when he sees it. Sure, it could be something she could have gotten any random way, but he knows deep down that it’s not something so simple. The guarded look in her eyes and her voice on the telephone the other night tips him off that something happened to her, something that she can’t tell him.

She is still protecting him even when he is out of reach.

Through code she then tells him that Salem Bradley is a homunculus. At first he doesn’t want to believe it, but then as it sinks in he realizes that it makes perfect sense.

And that Hawkeye is in much more danger than he initially thought.

The indifferent mask he has perfected over the past few days begins to slip. The raging anger inside him ignites, consuming.

Mustang manages to wait until he’s in the privacy of his own apartment before he roars in fury, punching the wall with his fist, unable to stop himself from showing his emotions anymore. He leaves a sizeable dent in the wall and his fingers are bruised and bleeding. He ignores the pain, falling in a chair, suddenly exhausted.

He has to get her out of there, before she is left with something worst than a shallow scratch on her cheek.


She sits in her room in the old, abandoned cottage she, Breda, Fuery and Mustang are using as a sort of safe house. They need to stay hidden from the world, especially as they plot against the Fuhrer.

As she sits there she muses on the fact that if three months ago someone had told her she was going to desert the military, she would have thought that they were insane. But it was the only thing they could do to rectify the situation, and to start bringing things back in their favour.

She doesn’t even care that in many eyes, she had shamed herself forever. She only cares about the fact that at least this way, she can still protect him somehow. The others feel the same, their faith and trust in him as strong as before.

They all know that he is the right person to be loyal to.

Now, they just need to wait for the Promised Day to come.

All too quickly the night before the Promised Day arrives.

Mustang paces across his room, trying to convince himself that everything will work in his favour and that he should get some sleep. In a few short hours they will be fighting the hardest battle of their entire lives.

A quiet knock causes his head to turn toward the door. He knows who it is before he even speaks.

“Come in.”

The door opens, and Hawkeye pokes her head in. Her calm demure would have almost fooled him if he hadn’t seen the anxiety hidden in her eyes. She knows just as well as he what the outcome could be. That lives may very well be lost in this battle.

She stands in the doorway in her loose pajama pants and t-shirt and crosses her arms, eyeing him warily. “You should be in bed sir. If you’re not careful you’re going to burn a hole through the floor with all your pacing.” Her room is below his.

“Am I keeping you awake?”

She doesn’t even blink. “The floor creaks.”

He makes an “oops” face. “Sorry. I’ll stop.”

She shrugs. “It doesn’t matter. I’m no more tired than you are.” She frowns slightly, “Although, it would be highly advisable that we get some sleep. Tomorrow is going to be... taxing.”

Mustang snorts. “To say the least.”

She makes a move to leave. “Well, I should probably-“

“Stay for a while, keep me company until you get tired.” He knows all along that she intended to do just that anyway, but didn’t want to stay without his permission.

Hawkeye nods, stepping into the room and closing the door behind her.

He sits on the floor by the bed, leaning his back against it. She does the same, sitting cross-legged next to him. A few inches of empty space separate them.

He is suddenly very tired of this forced distance between them. The air is constantly choked with unsatisfied longing between them, hidden so well that it is almost never seen by others. Mustang touches her wrist lightly, pulling her over closer to him. He sees her turn her head slightly to regard him out of the corner of her eye. She allows him to take her hand, entwining his fingers with hers. He brings her hand up slowly to his face, kissing her knuckles. This may be their last night together; he does not want it to end like this; with space and reined in emotions. He lifts his head to look at her, trying to keep his desperation hidden. They stay completely still for a few long moments, Hawkeye staring into Mustang’s eyes intently, searching.

They both know that one or both of them may die tomorrow. It is the risk they must take to free their country from the hell that will most certainly occur if the homunculus take over.

She makes the first move, leaning across the few centimetres that separate them, and kisses his cheek, her lips lingering on his skin. It is not as chaste as one might think; Mustang realizes that it is surrender.

They both know how they feel about each other. There is no need for words.

He runs his fingers through her soft, loose hair as she trails kisses along his jaw until she reaches his lips. Their lips barely touch, simply brush against each other. She is testing not only him but herself as well; to make sure they both want this and are actually fully ready for this. For this is their first time touching each other intimately, beyond a brief brush of the hand or a hand on the shoulder when in need of comfort.

This is their first time crossing the line.

Their kiss deepens. Mustang trails his hands down her sides, holding her waist and pulling her into his lap. She tangles a hand in his hair, bringing his head closer to hers. They lose themselves in the euphoric dizziness of it all, forgetting everything else except each other.

It is longing, surrender, loyalty, trust, love. It is everything that they are, and everything that they feel for each other. The passion between them bursts forth, no longer tightly encased and hidden. Just this once they can express it.

Mustang pants after Hawkeye breaks the kiss, kissing down his jaw once more. He lets her push him down on the floor, pulling her with him.

As she kisses down his neck he dazedly contemplates the fact that even though he doesn’t believe all the fanciful nonsense about fate and soul mates, Riza Hawkeye is in some way or another meant for him. She is his equal in every way possible. And God, he has wanted her for so long. Not just as his aid but as his lover, to be with him always, in his home and in his bed.

The press of her lips against the scars on his stomach is his undoing.

Much, much later they lay curled together in the tiny bed. The lamp light casts a flickering glow over the room, casting a shadowy orange over the walls. Mustang has his arm slung lazily around her waist, the fingers of one hand tracing the array tattooed on her back that has so much significance to their relationship. It is really, in a twisted sort of way, one of the main things that brought them together. He kisses the dip in her shoulder.

“You are insatiable, Roy.” Her voice is slightly lower than it usually is, soft. He is overjoyed at her use of his first name; he is so used to hearing a more formal name.

“Just with you.” He whispers slyly against her shoulder blade, reaching up to kiss her cheek.

She snorts in response, unsusceptible to his flirtatious charm. She shifts in his arms, rolling over so that she can face him. She props herself up on one elbow and regards him silently with her unique amber eyes. “You should sleep.”

“I wouldn’t be able to sleep even if I tried.” Mustang sighs.

“Well, if I am distracting you, I will most certainly take my leave.” She shifts to get out of bed.

He grabs her wrist, stopping her. “Oh hell no. You are staying right here, that’s an order.” He grins cheekily at her.

She appraises him, one eyebrow raised. “I wasn’t aware you ordered woman to stay in your bed, Colonel.”

“Just those who are stubborn and don’t listen to me.”

Hawkeye rolls her eyes. “As I said before, I am proud of my pigheadedness.”

He snorts bemusedly, pulling her closer and cradling her head against his chest.

“We really should have gotten some sleep.” Hawkeye sighs, looking out the window at the slowly lightening sky.

“Hush.” Mustang murmurs. “There’s nothing we can do about it now.” Soon, too soon, they will have to get up and face the day that will undoubtedly be the most difficult one they will ever experience. He doesn’t even care that he’s had practically no sleep. He’d rather spend the time he has left with her than worrying in the darkness alone. “Be careful today, Riza.”

He hopes they will both be alive still at the end of the day.

She tilts her head up to look at him. “I will try my hardest. You will do the same.”

He nods, pressing a kiss on her forehead.

Sometimes he feels that he is forcing her to hold her gun, to kill people. He feels responsible for the haunted look in her eyes (Even this girl has a killer’s eyes), for her mask of emotionless indifference she constantly puts up. He has to ask her every so often if she is willing to continue on with him, to assure himself that she is not doing this against her will.

Will you follow me?

But she does not feel this way; she does it because it is the only thing she can do to protect him. He is what matters, and she will do anything possible to keep him safe. She will continue to point her gun for him until the day he has achieved his goal.

If that is your wish, then even into hell.

They watch the sunlight rise together, foreboding yet beautiful at the same time.

If they go down today, they will go down together.



End.