Thisfinal chapter was very much inspired by Hola-Meg-A-Cola's fic, Troublesome Feelings. go read her fics; she's awesome. This was written for Theme 2; Jealousy. Also, all of these fics are stand-alone. They are not relatedwith one anotherat all.

Not much had changed about Brigadier General Roy Mustang; the military still dominated his life, although as he got farther into his thirties he was seeing less and less fieldwork. Most of the work he did now seemed almost irrelevant; looking into petty crimes, serving the occasional guard duty for a low-key event. War was a young man's game, and in the Amestris Army's humble opinion he was apparently getting past his prime. Eventually, he would probably end up supervising a low-key military outpost tucked into some desolate corner of the country.

It had taken him a very short while to realize he was the only one who didn't seem to be changing; Havoc moved back to the country to help his mother run the family business after his father passed away; Breda was given an ordered transfer to Dublith; Farman had been injured in a hostage situation, retired on his compensation money and was still living somewhere in Central; Fuery had been needed for his technological skills in Eastern, and had still not returned from the six-month contract that had now been running for over four years. Perhaps the most painful of these departures, however, was that of his adjutant Riza Hawkeye who had been shot in the same incident that had felled Farman. Although she had made a surprising recovery from the shot to the back, her health had never quite been the same thereon after and she had been honourably discharged. That was the way of the army, he mused; as long as the human race procreated they would easily be able to replace any pawn that they deemed useless to their cause.

So then he had been left alone, the faithful Lieutenant Hawkeye finally falling to his cause. Occasionally they had tried to see each other outside of the workplace but the entire affair had seemed awkward; now that he considered it, he had known very little of his Lieutenant past the blue uniform. How he had a new adjutant, and a new set of subordinates who radiated national pride and undying loyalty to the country. Perhaps this is why he could not feel comfortable with them; they were loyal to the Government, not to him as a person. He was the person who kept them alive, gave them signed slips for ammunition refills, handed them their paycheques at the end of every fortnight.

A soft cough brought him from his thoughts; the bartender looked at him sternly and slid the bill over the counter. Roy blinked; vision slightly blurred from alcohol but managing to hand the man the right sum of money the second time around. Not bothering to finish his half-full glass of bourbon, he stood and walked carefully out of the bar; he never stumbled when he was drunk but his gait was always marginally slower to allow for error.

As he pushes the bar door open he almost trips over a large black dog. Cursing the animal as it slinks under one of the dusty metal tables set outside the bar, he can feel another set of eyes on him; paranoia forged from the Ishbal conflict that had occurred years ago.

"You're drunk, Sir."

A soft, reminiscent sigh escapes from his lips, which quickly curve into a small smile at the familiar voice.

"It's been too long, Hawkeye."

"Three years," she asserts as she gently tugs on Black Hayate's lead to draw him out from under the tables.

Then comes the predictable silence in the conversation; neither is sure what to say, so Roy decides to go with the stereotypical pleasantries coveted by old friends.

"How is your health?"

"Fine, Colonel... a lot better than it had been," she adds to her short response.

"Good to hear... and it's Brigadier General now." She smiles for him, but the effort of keeping up the charade shows on her face. "What brings you to this part of town?"

An unsure smile, almost cautious. "Actually, an old acquaintance of mine owns this place."

"Oh really?" A pointless question. 'That'd be Mister Sunshine in there, right?' Then a question too rude to ask; he knew his First Lieutenant and he was sure she still wasn't past criticizing his every move.

"Yes, he..." their conversation (if you could even refer to it as a proper chat) was cut short by the bar's door swinging open and 'Mister Sunshine' slamming the door shut behind him. It was only now that he learned the guy's real name (Thomas, according to the amazingly fake cheery note in Hawkeye's voice).

"Coming Riza?" Thomas says, his arm making its way around her waist, and at this point Roy really doesn't know whether his thought are rushing past in a blur or whether his mind has gone utterly blank with blind suspicion.

"Yes..." Riza struggles to look back over her shoulder as she's forcibly steered away by the man's arm. "Goodbye, sir!"

And for the first time in their fifteen-year relationship, Roy knows he's the one that will be going home lonely.

Riza hated the way he could stir up all her emotions with only one encounter after so many years; he shouldn't have affected her so strongly, but once again she found herself going back to him, even after she had met up with Thomas. He had been a classmate at her high school; he had taken her on dates before their graduation but after that she had entered military college and had been whisked away to Ishbal to serve a pointless cause. He was practically the same as she remembered him from her teenage years; tall but built heavily, brunet hair now greying at the sides with age, hands still finding their way to places where they didn't belong she thought bitterly as she smacked his left hand away from her chest.

When they reach her apartment he leans in for a goodnight kiss, a gesture she swiftly ignores as she gets out of his car and releases Hayate from his position in the back seat.

"Same time tomorrow?" he shouts after her retreating form.

"Perhaps," comes her curt reply. She doesn't know anymore. How one man she's known for most of her life can cause so much inner turmoil is beyond her. Her grandfather had always told her, before he passed away, that you should be true to the ones you love, for in them you would have thine earthly joy. She had first heard this at a young age and didn't entirely understand, and suddenly she wishes she could go back to the innocence of childhood to look at herself from hereon out.

With a sudden shock she realizes that the last few years of her life had been lived as a lie; he somehow gave her purpose, gave her name meaning. When she had been with him in the army, he had been all she had dedicated herself to and more, and without him in her life she seemed incurably empty. With him, she was First Lieutenant Hawkeye, regardless of injury and retirement; to him, she had always needed to be Hawkeye, not Riza, the life that seemed almost surreal upon reflection.

Why did he make her feel this way?

She wonders if he still lives in the same apartment block she had taken him home to nearly every night of her being his subordinate, she wonders if she should call ahead, she wonders if he's even made it home yet. Either way, she knows that if she finds him she will answer the question that has been on the edge of her mind ever since they parted ways. Grabbing her coat and telling Hayate to guard the house for good measure, she sets off to find Mustang.

A bar tab of twice what you expected to pay is never quite enough, apparently, because the first thing Roy Mustang did when he got home was open a bottle of scotch that Hughes had given him years ago with trembling hands. She takes a swig and sighs deeply, trying to overcome the shock of seeing Hawkeye again. The bizarre attraction between the two of them had once unnerved him more than either of their deaths may have done, but after he came so close to watching her die he was once again proven wrong by his own logic.

He slumped on his bed, watching the few cars outside dapple light across his whitewashed roof. As the alcohol found its place in his system he let his eyes droop shut lazily, revelling in the way the liquor tended to clear his mind of all problem, at least until daybreak.

When Roy hears the knock at his door he decides to ignore it, assuming they have the wrong apartment because no one in their right mind visits at this hour unless under invitation. However, the tapping persists and every sharp thump echoes in his skull like a drumbeat. Sighing, he drags himself off the bed and walks steadily towards his front door; cautious of any trip hazards he may have left around the place when he hadn't anticipated on getting quite so inebriated. When he opens the door he lets his eyes focus for a moment, before blinking in surprise at the blonde woman standing in his doorway.


"Just Hawkeye now, actually." She resists the urge to salute, as she stands rigid in front of her old commanding officer.

"Any particular reason for your being here?"

"Actually, Sir..." she invites herself over the threshold and he sidesteps to let her through. "I was thinking about my life before I was dismissed."

He nods and falls onto his tattered couch whilst massaging his temples.

"I wanted to thank you Sir. You made me a whole person and I will always feel that I owe you everything."

Her words held the weight of emotion, and he sighed. "Sit down, Hawkeye." Slowly, cautiously and under force of old habit she sits herself down beside him. He takes her hand and murmurs, "You shouldn't have to feel indebted to me."

Their eyes meet and their lips meet somewhere in between; it doesn't really matter who initiated the kiss. Suddenly, it's just like times gone by; all that matters to her is him, and all he can grasp of reality are her chapped lips against his and all over his face and neck.

She has made her own way into his lap and as he breaks away to draw breath he slides his arm around her waist, draw her in to kiss him again; this time passionate and slow like all old loves should be.

Perhaps now, they can realize that they have kept each other all along.

That concludes my 7 Snogs Royai venture. As for the Jealousy… well, Roy was jealous of her 'boyfriend' of sorts, and the last line is also a reference because if you jealously keep someone, you keep them possessively and carefully. Thanks for reading these fics guys.