This is my first FMA story so please be kind. It is RoyxEd with slight onesided RisaxRoy. This takes place after the show ends and there will be some spoilers. I don't own FMA (if i did would i be on i mean really...) Anyway, enjoy and remember to Review!

Silence…it was the bane of the Major General's existence. Silence meant the lack of productivity. The lack of productivity meant that she would have move from her desk and personally see to it that work was resumed. 'Sometimes it truly astonishes me that that man manages to function on a day-to-day basis' she thoughtWith a groan and scrape of wood on wood, Major General Risa Hawkeye stood up at her desk and stretched before moving to cross the room in a few long, graceful strides. Tall black boots clicked on hardwood floors, her gaze cool as she stared straight ahead at the mahogany door in he wake. Risa halted just before the door, a lengthy sigh falling gracefully off her lips as she gazed at her distorted reflection in the brass doorknob. Tired red-brown eyes stared back at her; lines that she shouldn't be getting for another five years already distinct on the once perfect face. Ah, stress is such a cruel thing. Her gloved hand wrapped around that doorknob and slowly twisted it counterclockwise, allowing the subtle squeak to be her introduction.

"Fuhrer sir, permission to enter," Risa said, her emotionless voice reverberating off of the office's interior walls. Silence…well not quite. The Major General could faintly detect soft rustling, the subtle grating sound of gloves on paper. Hawkeye waited, but no affirmative or negative answer came. There was simply no response from the office's occupant. "Sir…"

"Permission granted, you may enter Hawkeye," came the response at last. A soft smile, hardly detectable except in the very core of her eyes, graced Risa's face. She fully pulled open the door and walked inside, saluting. Her hand fell as she looked on at room in front of her. Seated at a large desk flanked by two open windows on either side was Roy Mustang, feet propped up on the table, his hand preoccupied with a small piece of colorful paper. Sheets of blue and green, red and gold, those with intricate designs and those merely with solid shades were strewn all across the floors. The late afternoon light shown through the windows, glancing off the occasional metallic laced paper, making the walls shine like gold and silver. A chain of origami cranes stretched from Mustang's hands down to the floor on the other side of his desk. The sight, to say the least, surprised Risa, and momentarily she lost her composure. Paper cranes had been turning up all around the larger offices in Central's Head Quarters lately, many on her desk or scattered around lamps or tables, but the Major General remained clueless as to why the Fuhrer was acting so strangely.

Risa bent down to grab a black and navy crane, turning it in her hands as she did so. It was odd how a simple piece of folded paper could fascinate the General like this. The head was bent slightly downwards; the tail at an angle that somehow seemed slightly off. Risa stared down at the miniscule bird, slight warmth spreading through her usually frigid eyes. When she looked up she saw that her superior had not moved, though it seemed he had finished the crane he was working on for he now had piece of dark yellow paper with streaks of red in his hands. "I never reckoned that you would be one for origami, sir," Risa stated, not needing a response. She strolled forward to place her crane on the desk.

Mustang smirked slightly. "Say it is a girly pastime and I'll kick you out of the room, Hawkeye," he said with a chuckle. At last he looked up at his subordinate, black eyes locking with red. A chill ran down the Major General's spine as she desperately fought down the warmth that was currently clawing at her face, demanding to make its presence known. But there was another origin of the ice-cold chill that ran down her spine, another reason she felt like frigid water had been dumped on her skin. The Flame Alchemist, that was Roy's alias. It had always been such a fitting name for him, alive and fiery in all his glory. But as she stared into his eye she knew, she knew only too well, that the fires had gone out. His eyes were like obsidian, black as the dark cracks in the earth where no light ever touches. Obsidian is spawned from fire, on dragon's breath and phoenix's wings, but once the fire goes out, all that is left behind is a sharp, cold shell of its former self. That shell sat in front of her, a sin against the name of the once sarcastic, foul-mouthed colonel. When he moved up in rank he left all the things that once mattered to him behind. Here was the result: the powerful and admired ruler of the country, respected for his cool head and calm hand, a bitter title to accompany a shattered soul. And that result nearly broke Risa's heart. She breathed in deeply, letting the new burst of oxygen revitalize her and stall her trembling. Reaching forward, Risa yanked the slip of folded paper out of the Fuhrer's hands.

"Pardon my rudeness sir, and I'm sure you have your reasons, but you really should be doing you paper work and not fiddling around with…these thing," Risa said quietly, trying not to incite Mustang's anger. Roy growled softly and snatched the paper back from his subordinate. He rolled his eyes and raised his free hand to pat a stack of papers on the edge of his desk.

"Rudeness pardoned and all, but I'm done. So if that is all Major General…"

"Why cranes sir?" Risa butted in. Under normal circumstances, this would be seen as extreme disrespect, but things were different when it came to Roy Mustang and his closest followers. Risa didn't know how to describe it beyond the word 'trust'. It was so simple and yet…Risa picked the black and blue crane up again before she continued, "We all have hobbies but this is slightly obsessive. You must have a reason and if not then make these things on your own time…please sir," she added. There was a pause…a sigh…a smirk…a smile…

"Somebody once told me that if you make a chain of one thousand paper cranes, you get a wish answered by the gods," he said calmly, not once looking up from the colorful sheet in his hands.

"But you don't believe in god Sir."

"No, I don't," Roy replied. "But does that mean I can't hope, Hawkeye? I don't care if it's childish as long as it keeps me sane."

"You aren't childish, Sir," Hawkeye calmly said. "At least children admit when times are tough. Children know how to cry." And with that final statement still fresh in the air, Hawkeye saluted and left the room without a dismissal.

Roy stared after the Major General, flinching as the door slammed behind her. He propped his chair to the side, two legs resting on the floor while the other two hovered precariously in the air. Chuckling dryly to himself, he stared out of the windows down at the gardens on the side of Central's investigations building. The afternoon sun washed over him as a soft breeze cooled the room. Roy, did you know… As he stared out at the grounds, Roy could almost remember. Roy, did you know… It had been a day like today, so beautiful, so bittersweet. Roy did you know…