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On A Cold, Lonely Night

~P~

It was one of the coldest winters Amestris had ever experienced, and that night was particularly bad. A light snow was falling over Central City and its outskirts, which while not bad itself, was paired with a harsh, nippy wind. The residents of the country, though, were tucked away, safe and warm, in their homes, awaiting the joy that the next day would bring them. But unlike nearly everyone he knew, one man was not at home, not cuddled up beside the person he loved, not beaming about the festivities of the holidays, and certainly not enjoying what tomorrow held.

The intense breeze swept down and bit at General Roy Mustang's face as he stepped out of his car, but he paid it no mind, instead shielding the flowers in his arms from it. Though they were more than likely to get ripped apart and die after he was done at the place, for now, he needed to protect them.

Despite all the courage he had forced himself into believing he had while sitting in his vehicle, one look towards the graveyard before him sucked it up and left him without a drop. He stood on the sidewalk, frozen physically and emotionally, unprepared for what he was about to face. His eyes were wide as he blinked at one specific spot in the silent space, and he swallowed before taking a heavy step forward. He needed to do this; he needed to get all of it off of his chest and out in the open, even though it would continue to wound him each day until he finally parted.

Shaking his head and pulling a hand through his messy black hair, he trudged closer to the entrance of the cemetery and slowly walked in. His pants and shoes soaked through and his feet went numb as he kicked through the snow to create a path, but he didn't notice, didn't care. He nearly lost his scarf a couple of times, but when it came to the fourth incidence of it almost blowing off, he angrily tied it in a knot at the base of his neck and shoved in it his jacket, before stopping to compose himself. He had promised himself he would not get worked up at the little things; that he needed to be clear-minded as possible for that moment that was coming seemingly too quickly. He was getting better at keeping his temper in general, but he knew it would be a long while before he was anywhere near emotionally stable. The incident still shook him to his core every moment he closed his eyes, and with it came the shattering of his composure, usually. But not right then, not right now.

A shaky puff of breath leaving his mouth, he carried on until he finally arrived at the two painfully familiar headstones. He stared down at them, unblinking, feeling his eyes sting at the sight of the names engraved above the epitaphs – Riza Hawkeye and Maes Hughes. It took all he had not to throw the flowers into the snow in a fit of rage, of sadness and stomp away, his fingers instead curling and clenching around the stems of them. It took him a long while to find his voice, trapped in the same dark place his heart and thoughts had receded to in the months previous. When he did speak, his voice broke and he had to close his eyes and compose himself again so that it wouldn't happen a second time. The longer he stood there, though, the harder it became for him to justify doing so, to find the bravery to stand there and subject himself to something still so raw, still so sensitive to him. Biting his tongue, he forced a single word out of his mouth, the simplest of phrases.

"H-hi, you two."

Casting his eyes to his shoes, he kicked some snow loose from beneath them and shifted it around nervously. His heart was thumping loudly in his ears and the pressure of holding back the tears was becoming too much. Roy Mustang rarely cried – the only person he had ever done so in front of was Riza – but in that moment, all by his lonesome, he couldn't prevent it any longer, months' worth of pent up sorrow and distress pouring out of him in the form of warm tears falling down his cheeks. Wiping a gloved finger under his eyes to catch one, he looked away from the gravestones and laughed bitterly at himself. "I'm so pathetic," he thought aloud, "here I am, trying to get my feelings out in the open, to try to understand them, and all I can do is cry. I'm a terrible excuse for a General – hell, for a man. Neither of you would ever want to see me this way. No, no, in fact, what's even worse is I promised Riza I wouldn't feel like this – that I wouldn't be so goddamned disappointed and angry at myself for what happened. B-but—"

His voice shook and broke again, and he dug the heel of his boot into the snow angrily, "Dammit! I-I can't, Riza! I'm sorry, I'm so damn sorry for what happened and for feeling that way even though you told me not to, but how can I not? Hell, even with you, Maes, how can I not feel responsible for what happened? How can I be expected not to blame myself!?" His voice had risen into a yell and he nearly pounded a fist into the delicate flowers, and when he realized this, he quieted down again, his words a mere whisper as he continued to sob quietly. "It was all my fault – that fact that both of you are dead is my fault, something I caused. You both could still be here if I had just... done something, anything differently!"

The past had a habit of crawling up on Roy and haunting him, refusing to leave him be. But even if he wanted it to, it wouldn't happen because there wasn't a moment he wasn't thinking about what had happened six months beforehand and how he could have possibly prevented it, which only made for him to dig himself deeper and deeper into the hole of heartache and loss he was suffering from. As he closed his eyes to quell a new flow of tears, his mind easily slipped into the traumatizing memory of the day he had lost her, of the moment he lost Riza Hawkeye forever.

A simple border skirmish turned into a near war was not what the newly-appointed General had been expecting when they had called him down to the boundaries between Aerugo and Amestris. The Aerugonians' had upped the amount of troops they were sending over the border into Amestris – for what reason, still no one had a sure clue – and the situation had escalated and before Roy Mustang or Colonel Riza Hawkeye knew it, they themselves were reliving the dark past of Ishval as she donned a long-distance rifle and he his destructive alchemy gloves.

What the Aerugonians lacked in skill, they made up for in sheer number, soldier after soldier flooding the brigades that Amestris had set up. As was expected of someone as high as his rank, Roy Mustang was in the front lines, and despite her superior officers trying to hold her back, Riza Hawkeye was right by his side, landing many a well-placed shot on the enemies approaching. It was their fifth day there, though, when her life ended unexpectedly, that the light of Roy's life was forcefully taken from him.

All it had taken was her hawk's eye catching the sniper aiming at Roy – too preoccupied with shouting orders - and without a split second of hesitation or consideration, was she blocking his target and was shot down instead .The instant his adjutant had hopped in front of him, the Flame Alchemist became hyperaware of what was happening, but before he could process it, before he could somehow throw her to the ground so she wouldn't be the victim, the deed was done, and Riza was falling to the ground, an expertly-shot bullet through her lung and heart, her eyes wide and her uniform going red. Instantaneously, he was at her side, his mind going haywire and a panic so severe filling him he was rendered immobile, simply clutching her hand.

"Riza!" his voice was frantic as he propped her up slightly. She blinked at him blearily, barely registering as his fingers brushed her cheekbone and as he called for medical attention, paying mind to the trauma her organs had suffered. The pain was excruciating and debilitating, but she tried not to let it show on her face. "Oh my God, Riza. I-I—" Roy barely kept himself from hyperventilating as he moved her hand from where the bullet had penetrated her chest – just slightly under her left breast, the area soaked with a sickening blood. Immediately his own hand was covering it instead of hers, applying a light pressure while he waited impatiently, anxiously for the medical staff he had sent a recruit after. His left hand brushed back her fringe and watched helplessly as her amber eyes dimmed, draining of the life they originally held. "R-Riza, look at me. You're going to be all right – t-they're coming right now for you, and they're going to take you away and make sure you're okay. You're going to live through this, I swear – I will not let anything happen to you on my watch. I—" He watched her eyelids droop lower, and he became that much more hysterical, "—I won't let you die on me!"

He paused when she lifted her hand slowly and placed it on his, ceasing his babbling. "Sir," she smiled despite her worsening condition, "I-I'm sorry that I won't be able to serve under you for much longer. I regret to say that you'll have to find a new bodyguard, though I'm proud that I've done my duty to you." Even as she was slipping into imminent death, Riza Hawkeye was the perfect picture of devoted soldier, though her mind was brimming with further thoughts she wished – no, had – to express to him, that she desperately needed him to know, for that would be her last chance.

"Don't talk like that," he forced out, hopelessness and realization settling low within him and making him shake violently. Cupping her face, the skin cool against the warmth of his own, he moved closer to her, "You're going to be fine. I've promised you that I would never let a thing happen to you, Riza, and now is no different."

Riza shook her head a bit at him, tears forming in eyes and falling uninhibitedly down her cheeks. "Don't be foolish, Roy," she told him softly, "don't try to see this situation as any differently t-than it is, please. I'm just glad that I was able to protect you." A pain shot through her she finished speaking, her organs shutting down and more blood escaping the wound, causing for her eyes to flash and her body to shift, uncomfortable, momentarily before she relaxed into the feeling of dying again. No part of Riza Hawkeye wanted to die, but if this was how she had to go – having done her job to protect that man she loved – then she was content with that.

Roy, however, was clearly not, but her words had finally gotten to him and the reality of the situation crashed around him. Leaning down, he pressed his forehead against hers, the background noises of war going completely unnoticed by the man, too caught up in the woman dying in his arms to care about anything else. "I'm so sorry," he whispered to her, "h-how could I let this happen? H-how?"

"It's not your fault," she coughed, and the sounds of the medics could finally be heard. "I did it by my own volition – I don't want you thinking that this is because of you. It's not, and it never will be. Promise me that you will never believe that you're the reason I'm not here? Promise me that even though I won't be by your side any longer, that you won't give up – that you will still go on to be the Fuhrer this country deserves, Roy." Roy's breaths were coming out in short bursts of air, but he nodded, barely registering her words as he looked around frantically for anyone that could help them. But even the Flame Alchemist knew at that point that the situation was too far-gone, that his adjutant was due for death any moment.

"I promise," he voiced a few seconds later, "I'll promise you anything, just please, please, Riza, don't go. Don't leave, please." Roy's biggest fear was losing Riza – and it was currently happening, and there wasn't a thing he could do to prevent it. "Please, please, please!"

The General had resorted to senseless pleading, unable to do anything more as she lulled deeper and deeper into eternal sleep. She simply smiled at him and squeezed his hand with what little strength she had left, and Roy was no longer frantic or in denial – instead, his tears bubbled over and onto her face. "Y-you can't! Who's going to be here with me, Riza?" He knew his words were selfish, but he was no longer thinking of anyone but the two. "Who am I going to spend the rest of my life with? Who else am I ever going to be able to trust and l-love but you?" He felt her grip on his hand begin to loosen, and he was suddenly rasping out, "You can't go because I love you. I love you, I love you, I love you a-and to be without you is unimaginable, so please, stay with me." Riza's eyes were alight for a brief second when the confession slipped through his lips, before a gasp, desperate for the air her injured lung couldn't hold, escaped her lips.

"I can't promise you that," her words reflected the opposite of what he had just agreed to a few seconds later. "But know," she blinked away the tears flooding her vision, trying to restore the clear image of Roy above her – he would be the last thing she saw –, "that I l-love—" Her own admittance could barely be spoken as he leaned closer, their noses touching, and the medical team arrived around them, pulling out various, now unneeded types of equipment. Riza took a sharp intake of breath for the last time, determined to finish telling him how she had always felt, "—you back, Roy Mustang. I love... you. A-and I," she paused, gathering up the last of her strength, "always,a-always have, always wi—" And just like that, Riza's lifeless amber eyes fell shut, her chest stopped rising, her rosy cheeks were sickly pale, and she had died. And in that moment, Roy Mustang couldn't process a thing, couldn't breathe, couldn't do anything but exist – for Riza Hawkeye was gone from his life, never to return. Never again would they touch, or speak, or look one another. She was dead, and Roy was alone.

"No, no, no, no... wake up, please!" he chanted, as though this would bring her back to him. He held her close, eyes squeezing shut as he tried to shut out reality, his emotions laid out plain as day for the first time in years, fury, sorrow, incredulity all flowing through him. The Flame Alchemist was cast aside by the medical staff, though, which earned each of them a dangerous glare, the tears still falling consistently as he returned to Riza's side – no one but him would touch her – and slowly pulled her to his chest and into his shaky arms. His hands were soaked with her blood as he held her crumpled body, so small, so unmoving, so devoid of the life that he needed in his own.

He regarded the medical team coldly, turning and stepping away from them as they began to collect their supplies and instead prepared the small, collapsible stretcher for her corpse. He could see the hesitance flash in one of the staff member's eyes, eyeing the area beneath Roy's hand that the bullet was buried in and wanting nothing more to tend to it, but looked away immediately, the General's gaze intense and scrutinizing. Roy's eyes returned to Riza, half-expecting, half-hoping that she might blink back into existence again, his heart sinking into his feet when she didn't. A part of him found it unfathomable that the woman he had been kissing heatedly only an hour beforehand, the woman he had spent the majority of his life with, the woman with whom he had survived every tragedy to fly his way was now gone, had joined his late best friend and that he was never to be with her again. But another part, a bigger one, knew better – that this was war, that Riza Hawkeye was dead, and there was nothing he could do about it. His eyes stung again but he resisted tears again, a silent sob instead leaving his throat as he pressed his forehead against hers and kissed her nose before turning again and reluctantly placing her on the stretcher to be taken away, trailing behind the medical staff and her body as they did so.

Her funeral had been a small affair, instead of a grand military one. It was nearly impossible for the Flame Alchemist to compose himself during it, and more than once did he have to leave in order to regain his emotional stability and not weep openly, the reality of the loss suffocating his heart the longer he stayed. He put on a mask of silence each time he returned, his expression broken but not a tear dripping from his eye – though his coworkers, his friends knew better than to believe his facade. Roy Mustang was not okay, and he never would be again.

After he had arrived back at his townhouse, the flood of emotions he had been holding back since the moment it occurred hit him full force, and in a tantrum of unexpressed, pent up anguish and anger towards himself, did he break a variety of his possessions and throw about his alchemical notes like a child – and emotionally, that was what he was in that moment. He was a psychologically tormented man who couldn't communicate how he felt because the one person he trusted to tell anything was gone and who else could hope to understand him like she did?

It had been difficult to keep his promise to her – and still until that day, that very moment, he had only kept half of it. He knew how disappointed she would be in him if he just shut down completely and abandoned their dream – besides, he couldn't bring himself to do so, anyway – and so he carried on with his duties as a General as best as he could. But one aspect of their promise he couldn't keep – Roy Mustang couldn't help but blame himself, and nothing anyone said to him could change his mind, let alone her reassuring words that replayed through his mind each and every night. She didn't want to part from the world leaving him with a guilt burdened on his shoulders, and though he desired nothing more than to honour her wish, he couldn't – because her death was his doing and if he had acted more swiftly, if he had taken the shot, then maybe, she might still be there with him. But instead, she was buried six feet under in front of him, forever to sleep, never again within his grasp.

"Again," he choked out, "I'm sorry. I've been unable to keep my promise to you – I'm a selfish man, but I will never be able to look back and feel as though I couldn't have done something to protect you. I should have taken that bullet, but you wouldn't let me! A-and I... I understand that you don't want me to hurt any more than necessary, but this will never sting any less than it has since the moment it happened, Riza. And I think it's only fair that you, too, understand that – you can't expect me to just go on without you. I love you, and that's never going to change, and neither is... is how lost I feel because you're not here." He exhaled heavily at this and shivered, eyes cast to the ground as he sniffled and tried to calm down in the slightest bit. A short, silent moment passed, before he laughed again, this time noticeably lighter, though sadness still tinged it. He began to speak as though she was standing right there in front of him, as if she was still there.

"You remember how Catalina and Havoc were expecting? Well... the baby was born last week," Roy recalled with a slight smile, "and guess what? You were right, as to be expected – it's a girl, healthy as can be. She looks a lot like Jean, but you can definitely see the Rebecca in her, too." His heart plummeted and his voice dropped several octaves as he continued to talk. "And... they... you know what they did? T-they named her after you. Little Riza Havoc – named after the strongest and kindest person they have ever known." His knees began to feel weak then, the all too-familiar feeling of grief washing over him in waves and weighing his heart down even further. "They took one look at her and just knew immediately knew that they wanted to honour you."

"Roy."

Havoc's voice was softer than he had heard in months, and Roy knew it was because of the teeny infant that rested in his shaking arms. He was ninety nine percent sure that he was holding the baby incorrectly, but the little nameless blonde girl didn't seem to mind, for she was in a deep, calm slumber.

"She likes you," he heard his friend speak again, reaching over to brush what little hair his daughter had out of her eyes. Roy cracked something akin to a smile at this, before shifting his hand minutely so it was better positioned beneath the child's little head. He was terrified that he might drop her, but when he looked up and saw the warm looks that both Rebecca and Jean were giving him, his trust in himself increased a bit and so did his uncertainty about being in baby's presence.

"I suppose," he nodded a few seconds later. The birth of Captain Rebecca Catalina and Major Jean Havoc's baby was a highlight for everyone in the Mustang unit, the entire lot of them in the same depressed state as their commanding officer. But the three day old infant brought along a much-needed positive change among them all – for seemingly the first time since Riza's death, Rebecca was smiling again, and Havoc didn't look so heartbroken, either.

A comfortable silence set between them, in which Havoc turned towards his girlfriend and took her hand it his larger one and squeezed – it was time to inform their General of their intention. "R-Roy," Havoc started again, though this time his voice was hoarser and his sea foam eyes hard, sad. The Flame Alchemist blinked up at his subordinate, surprised by the rawness of the blond's eyes.

"Hm?"

"We... we have something to tell you," he looked back to Rebecca, who urged him on with a small, sorrowful smile. Turning back to Mustang, he swallowed and offered him the same expression Rebecca was wearing. "We wanted you to know that we're going to name her after Riza." Roy's heart skipped a beat in his chest, and he looked between the Havoc and his daughter. The new parents watched the disbelief, the lack of understanding pass through his pupils, and Rebecca elaborated.

"We only think it's appropriate," she closed her eyes as she thought about her late best friend, feeling tears prick at their corners. "Riza was the bravest person we've ever known, Roy; you know that. And we wanted to honour her in the way she deserves to be – so we thought that we would name our daughter after her, that our love for her be transferred into yet another being we love. We wanted you to know before we told anyone else."

Roy's eyes flashed to the newly-dubbed baby – Riza Havoc. Named after the most courageous woman any of them had ever had the pleasure to know, someone each of them had loved greatly and missed terribly. The baby's name was a reminder of both their loss and the precious memories they had shared with Colonel Hawkeye, and the violent clashing of emotions in him caused for him to feel the welling of tears in his eyes even as his lips quirked up a bit in the closest thing to a smile he had given anyone in months. "That's... it's..." But the General knew he had no words to describe how he felt, so instead he held his mouth shut and simply cradled the baby, her parents watching the scene with aching chests.

Roy's teeth gritted, and he chuckled a bit to ward off the darkness threatening to close in on him as it always did. "She's nearly a month old now," he said aloud, "and she kind of looks like you, I'm not going to lie. Well, she's a blonde – courtesy of Havoc, like I said." Turning away, he brushed the snow from his shoulders and his eyelids lowered slightly. "I... I've promised myself that I'm going to protect her with everything I have. I'm going to do everything in my power to make sure that she stays safe – so that nothing happens to her like... like what happened to you because of me. I don't want to be that person again – I don't want anyone else to lose the most important person in their life because I can't do my job properly." At this, he was reminded of Maes' daughter, six years old and growing up with the same curiosity and fervour her father always used to display. He remembered with a pang in his chest how utterly torn apart she had been at Maes' death – to the same degree as him with Riza – and how difficult it was to listen to her cry so loudly, so uninhibitedly and not burst into tears himself. He had sworn to protect the rest of the Hughes family for the sake of his best friend the moment he learned of his death, and three years later his resolve had only strengthened. No one would suffer like he had. "The same goes for Elicia, Hughes." He turned to the Brigadier General's grave, "I'll continue to make sure that your wife and daughter are safe – y-you deserve that much from me, too. I haven't been able to see her as much as I used to but... she's growing up well, rest assured. She's so much like you sometimes I swear that... well... b-basically, she's a great kid."

Elicia was a smart as her father and a lively as him, too. Every time Roy would visit her and her mother, she would excitedly present to him artwork or tell him of her new favourite book. She was one of the few constant sources of happiness in the General's dull life, but at the same time, every time he looked at her, he couldn't help the twisting in his chest at the reminder of Maes she would forever carry with her. But for the little girl's sake, the Flame Alchemist never expressed his distress, instead presenting her with the same enthusiasm she always showed him.

"Uncle Roy! Uncle Roy!"

The young General blinked up from where he was sitting reading an alchemy book, mind wandering rather than absorbing the information, and looked down at the source of the voice. Elicia was standing a few feet away from him, a grin on her rosy cheeks and a piece of paper held behind her back. Just moments beforehand, she had been intensely focussed on a picture she had been drawing at for hours at that point. "Hm? What can I do for you?"

"I wanna show you my picture, of course!" she told him, closing the short space in between them and taking a seat beside him and revealing the colorful image she had drawn from where she had been hiding it.

Roy quirked an eyebrow at her before smiling and putting aside his book, making sure to give her his undivided attention. "Okay – I'd love to see it, and I'm sure your mother will to when she's back from the marketplace." At this, Elicia passed him the paper and beamed up at him as she waited eagerly for what she hoped were his positive comments. The Flame Alchemist's expression matched that of the little girl's at first – she brought out the little happiness he still contained – but his grin fell as he further studied the picture. It was a crayon drawing that consisted of herself, Gracia, her father, himself, and Riza. The Hughes family were all holding hands, while Riza and Roy were slightly off to the side, doing the same thing with a small heart floating above their heads. He felt as though he had been robbed of breath in that moment, staring down at it.

Elicia was too wrapped up in her excitement to immediately notice his change of emotion, and began to point out and explain what she had drawn. "It's my – our - family!" she spoke loudly, "see, there's me, and there's my mommy, and... there's even daddy and you and Auntie Riza!" The pause in her speech, her slight change of tone would have been recognizable to Roy if had been paying attention, but he was too consumed in his own thoughts and feelings to acknowledge hers. "I worked really hard on this because I wanted it to be well done... that's why I took so long! Don't you like it?" When she looked back up at Roy, she finally realized just how the picture had affected him, brought back such memories - his eyes were empty and his face blank, though his hand was curling into a shaky fist beside him. "Uncle Roy?" she tugged on his hand a bit, breaking him out of his dark thoughts.

"O-oh! I... I love it, Elicia, it's lovely," he told her truthfully, forcing a smile – he did love it, but it also made his chest ache and his heart throb painfully. His face fell as he looked down at the picture again, though, and Elicia's followed.

"Why aren't you smiling if you like it, then?" she asked him simply, and he blinked and pull a hand through his hair, turning away slightly and sighing.

"I... uh... it's difficult to explain. You see—" He was surprised when he was cut off by the little girl, whose eyes were cast to the ground.

"I miss them," she said lowly, and the Flame Alchemist froze and stared down at her. "I miss my dad and Auntie Riza." She leaned against Roy's arm then, the mood of the situation now having turned completely. The scene was quiet for a few seconds before she spoke again, her voice still a whisper. "Do you miss them, too?"

"I miss her, I miss him. I miss both of them more than anything," he forced the words out, before feeling her little fingers curl around one of his and hold on tightly. Silence once again overcame them, Roy stuck in his own little crumbling world. Elicia was the one to break it.

"But e-even though I still miss them... I don't like to think about that. I like to think about the fun times... like my birthdays when we were all together or when we would go on picnics or you and Auntie Riza would look after me... I like to remember those instead. I-I don't think my daddy or Auntie Riza would want either of us to be sad, so I try really hard not to be and only think about the positive things." By the time Elicia had finished talking, Roy was blinking incredulously at her and she was smiling up at him sadly. The truth behind her words portrayed a sense of maturity that most children wouldn't have for years afterwards – but then again, most kids hadn't experienced the severe loss Elicia had.

And it was then that he realized that a six year old was handling the entire situation better than he – a man of thirty three years – had. While he refused to let go of the grief and guilt that came with their deaths, never focussing on any other aspect, here was his best friend's daughter, just as torn apart as him but allowing herself to move on and look at the positive memories she had about those who had passed. Despite it all, Elicia found something joyous out of the tragedies she had faced and held on to them when she began to feel as if she was drowning again. The Flame Alchemist knew that he could learn a thing or two from the example the little girl set – he knew that he should at least try to honour the promise he had made to Riza.

"E-Elicia." It wasn't eloquent, it's wasn't wordy, but it was all he could say in that moment as he gazed down at her.

The little girl wiped at her eyes a bit before squeezing his finger. "P-Please, Uncle Roy, tell me that you won't leave either," she whispered brokenly, "don't go like my dad and Auntie... please, promise me you won't." She began to sniffle from beside him, and before long, it was full-on sobbing, and Roy knew that while she tried her best to be as strong as possible for the both of them, that she was still as lost as he was about the situation and that even more than that, when you got down to it, she was still just a little girl who had lost two people she cared about immensely and nothing would change that.

Setting her picture beside his book, he gathered her in his arms and held her against his chest, feeling his own eyes well up as he listened to her weeping. Smoothing back her hair, he allowed her to bury his face in her shoulder while he murmured, "I'm not going anywhere, I promise." And he would be damned if he didn't try his best to keep this promise – he couldn't let another person down, not if he could help it.

"Your little girl, Maes, is so much stronger than I am," he whispered, tears forming in the corners of his eyes again and falling without his intervention, fingers wrapping around the stems of the flowers and breaking a few off as his fist shook. "I'm just an irresponsible man who can't look after his subordinates – the most important people in my life - properly.

"... I've tried so damn hard to be a little happier, but... every time I think of a pleasant memory, I-I... just remember how I'm never going to get the chance to create any new ones with either of you and that just brings all of the positivity to the ground – the realization just makes me break again, that much more than before. And I know that's not what either of you would want and I hate that... but I can't just move on and think of this situation in a different light. I-I can't. I can't let go as easily as both of you would have wanted me to."

It was difficult for the Flame Alchemist to look back and think of a moment when he had been completely content and happy with how things were going in his life. The few times he could even begin to consider utterly enjoyable were not so coincidentally in the years when both of his best friends had still been alive and by his side. Even though he was annoyed by Maes' habit of cooing a bit too much about his daughter and Riza's constant reminding him to do his paperwork, he loved both people to bits and would do anything to regain those that he had lost.

If the General tried his damndest to think of a point in time where he was at his happiest – which had been the topic of many a sleepless night of his – then the first remembrance he could recall was a few months before Maes had been murdered; three years exactly on that very date. The Hughes and he and Riza had all been together for a small Christmas gathering, and if he was being truthful, he couldn't readily think of a better night in his life – everything had just been so peaceful and simple back then, and he had been with the people that he loved.

"Sir, you really shouldn't drink too much. You don't want to be in a foul mood for tomorrow morning, now do you?" Riza's eyebrows were furrowed disapprovingly, but her eyes were flashing with concern and a small smile was on her rosy face.

"No 'sir' here! These are the holidays! Relax! Call me by name, if you'd please, Riza," he grinned at her, before taking another swig of his alcohol. "And I trust you'll stop me before I go too overboard."

Riza sighed heavily before rolling her eyes – leave it to her Colonel to rely on her even outside of the office. Then again, when hadn't he? When she looked over at him again, she found him talking animatedly to Maes, a genuine grin on his features for the first time in months, and that's when Riza decided that maybe it wouldn't be so bad if she let go for just one night.

By the time a few hours passed, Hawkeye herself was significantly relaxed and enjoying herself. It was only when she came across her commanding officer that her mood for the night changed significantly. "Sir—Roy, I—" The raven-haired man turned to her, blinked, smirked, and before she knew what was happening, he taking her hands in his and was pressing his lips to hers and she wasn't doing anything to prevent the action from escalating – the only thing that did was the fact that Hughes was watching both of them.

When they parted, a grin grew on the Lieutenant Colonel's face. "Don't forget to send us a wedding invitation now," he winked at them before walking off to tend to Elicia, who had been asking for juice for the past five minutes from anyone that would listen to her. Riza's face flushed hotly – something that hadn't happened since she was a teenager – but did nothing but watch dumbly as Maes left the pair alone, Roy's hand still gripping hers. When she noticed the contact, her blush intensified and she tried to make sense of what had just occurred. Looking over at Roy, she found him smiling fondly at her, his eyes gentle, instead of the drunken beaming she had expected to go hand in hand with such a rash action. He didn't smell heavily of liquor and from the looks of it, wasn't at all inebriated. So why had he kissed her so out of the blue?

"Sorry about that," he said quickly, pulling a hand through his hair nervously, a heat building in his cheeks, too. "Hughes kept going off about finding a girlfriend or a wife to spend the holidays with and I... well, why not you? You're my best friend and we already spend all of our time together!" He chuckled a bit at his own joke, an awkward thing, but Riza could only manage a forced laugh. "I kind of just... needed to shut him up." It was a simple excuse to cover up the actions he wanted to perform again – but when he looked at his adjutant, she looked uneasy and he wasn't about to force anything upon her.

Riza ignored, with much difficulty, the way her heart sunk in that moment, but with a strained smile did she nod at him in response. "R-Right."

Both were silent for a few seconds, with Roy stealing sheepish glances at her, before he touched her hand lightly again and motioned his head towards the door. "Do you want to... I don't know... head out early or something? We could take a walk, if you like – for once, it's not too cold out tonight that it would be unpleasant."

While Riza was in fact enjoying herself at the little get-together, the chance to also escape from the scene was tempting – social gatherings weren't really her sort of thing, and they had already been there for quite awhile. So it didn't take much deliberation for her to come up with an answer. "I'd like that." The Flame Alchemist offered her a warm smile at this, and she hid her blush by evading his dark eyes and walking across the room to retrieve their jackets while Roy informed the Hughes of their departing.

When the Colonel made his way over to her and she handed him his jacket, the family followed behind him. Roy took his garment with the same soft look he had given her moments before, making her heartbeat quicken and her eyes shift to Gracia, who had Elicia snoozing away on her shoulder. "I had a lovely time," she told her truthfully, her lips quirking up, "thank you for inviting me."

"It was our pleasure," she smiled up at her husband who returned it enthusiastically before turning back to Riza. "We'd love to have you over more often – Elicia adores you, and both of us do, too. It's quite nice, I will say, to have another woman to talk to!" She giggled, and the Lieutenant couldn't help but do the same. Maes' wife was quite the friendly person, and Riza enjoyed their time spent together, too.

Maes chattered endlessly at them as they pulled on their coats, bidding them farewell along with his wife and already expressing making plans for them all to get together again. Riza simply smiled and took his incessant talking in stride, but Roy made clear his usual annoyed attitude that came about when Hughes spoke a little too much. When the Lieutenant Colonel's talking died down a bit, Riza took this as their cue to leave and turned to twist the doorknob of the townhouse. As she did, though, Roy's gloved hand found her other and his fingers intertwined with hers. Maes' eyebrows raised at the action, before the same devilish grin from earlier curled on his lips. As the door creaked open and the cold of the outside swept into the conflicting warmth of the house, the glasses-wearing man said a final sentence: "You two lovebirds have a Merry Christmas, now."

Before Riza could respond, Roy shot Maes a look and then led them outside. The pair walked down the sidewalk in a comfortable silence for a long while, the Flame Alchemist never once releasing his grip on his Lieutenant's hand. And Hawkeye didn't mind one bit – the warmth of their figures huddled together was helping ward off the chill of the night, and if she was being completely honest with herself, she didn't mind her superior officer being so affectionate and close towards her.

"I had fun tonight," he said eventually, giving her a lopsided grin. "We should really go out more often, just the two of us – I've nearly forgotten what it's like to just let go, what with work and everything happening around us... and besides." He stopped and turned to face her suddenly then, his arms falling to wrap around her waist and his eyes gentle as he peered down at her, cheeks flushed from either the cold or their proximity, she didn't quite know. "I... I like spending time with you, Riza... and I don't think we get enough chances to do that." He looked away as he finished speaking, eyes landing and lingering on her lips momentarily, his blush's cause clear to her now, and rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly, making his scarf ride up slightly. The action revealed the skin of his jaw and Riza was surprised by the sudden urge she got to kiss the exposed area.

As she blinked up at him, the want to close the gap between them growing, she lightly weighed her options. Technically, she shouldn't even be letting him hold her like he was, for the fraternization laws of their job prohibited having such a relationship or displaying such feelings, but at the same time, the mindless joy of the holidays and having him so near for the first time in months was affecting her, overpowering her need to stay loyal to their occupation. In that moment, as they stood there in the snow-covered streets embracing one another, they were not Lieutenant Riza Hawkeye and Colonel Roy Mustang – no, they were just two regular civilians who were free of the suffocating responsibilities of reality for once in their lives. And so without any further thoughts, Riza stretched up and pressed her lips to his gently.

The Flame Alchemist was taken aback by the suddenness of the action, but it didn't take him long to react and to kiss her, mind melting into a bliss he hadn't experienced with her since they were teenagers. His grip on her hips tightened, pulling their bodies closer together. Riza parted from him only so she could readjust her mouth against his, her hands rising to rest on his broad shoulders before kissing him more firmly than the last. When the time came that they pulled apart for much-needed air, Roy's head was spinning and it took everything in him not to grin goofily and gather her up and kiss her again.

Riza closed the distance between them again, this time her kiss much more demanding and deep than the last, making for Roy to slowly trip backwards until he was pressed against the wall of a random building. Her hands found their way into his hair and tugged slightly at the raven locks, causing him to groan. Riza smiled at his response before pressing her lips his again, him wholly participating and enjoying the lip lock. The Lieutenant was out of breath the next time she broke away, and as she tried to regain it, she looked up at the man, who was gazing down at her with half-lidded eyes. Raising a hand, he brushed her fringe out of her face and whispered, "R-Riza." As much as he was loving being able to kiss her and touch her like she deserved, like how he always wanted to, and even though she had initiated the kiss, he wasn't about to continue if it wasn't truly what she wanted, if she felt that they should stop and forget it.

All it took was saying her name and she knew what he was asking her, and she responded with a light peck on his lips and her fingers toying with the ends of his hair. "It's the holidays," she told him lowly, "relax." Just as Roy recognized where her words were from, she kissed him again, and he forgot his train of thought and wrapped his arms around her, deepening the kiss. When his hand found its way under her jacket to skim across the flesh of her abdomen, Riza pulled away and her eyes flashed at him, her own desire apparent in her amber pupils. "Why don't we go and have some hot chocolate at my apartment?" she asked then, playing with and straightening out his scarf.

Roy blinked at the sudden request, but smiling softly, nodded. "Of course." At this, his hand dropped to her waist and a few seconds later, they were walking along the pathway again, stealing chaste kisses every few seconds. When his adjutant laid her head on his shoulder, he nuzzled her forehead and whispered, "Merry Christmas, Riza."

Her response was heard a few seconds later, accompanied by a squeeze of his hand. "Merry Christmas, Roy."

The night had ended amazingly for the pair, and from that point on, they had somehow juggled a relationship without the higher ups learning about it. It'd been difficult, and it had been trying, but still, they had found a way to make it work so that they were both finally able to be happy together again. But on that fateful day six months before, one half of their relationship was torn apart and it had fallen from there, never to be repaired.

The pain in Roy's chest was too debilitating to ignore, and he knew that he wouldn't be able to tolerate it much longer. Stepping forward, he separated the bouquet of flowers – a mix of roses and tulips, respectively Maes' and Riza's favourites – and slowly placed them in front of the headstones, warm tears falling and mixing with the snow. "I... I guess I've said all I came to," he finally spoke, his voice raw and thick with repressed sobs. Peering down at his arm, he eyes caught the little hand of his watch, and he waited a few agonizingly long seconds until the clock struck twelve before bitterly, sadly choking out, "Merry Christmas, you two."

At this, he looked at the two graves, a deep, miserable frown making its way on his lips. A long while passed before he finally turned around, trudging down the hill and back to his car, furiously away the liquid rolling down his cheeks. When he was at the bottom of the knoll, he cast their resting place one final glance and sighed heavily before continuing on. Arriving at his car, he entered it with a newly blank expression and steeled emotions as he stifled the last of his sniffles and checked his appearance in the mirror. As he drove, he took on his usual demeanor – the cold, emotionally-distance General of Central City, broken but hiding away. But as the lights of the city grew nearer and nearer, Roy Mustang knew that there was thing he couldn't conceal from himself – the fact that his heart felt no lighter than when he had arrived at the cemetery, and that the anguish that filled it only seemed worse than before.

~P~

Was for a secret santa thing on tumblr. 3