Well, I feel industrious. This will be my second post tonight. Go me! This is my take on Roy and Riza's history, and exactly how he found himself falling in love with her. Yes, it's almost certainly been done, and yes, I am doing a lot of restating of things in the manga, but I like to think of it as a comprehensive history, and mine's compact at the same time! Also, yes, I do say Riza's eyes are black. This is just the impression I always got from the manga. If you look she does seem to have dark eyes. Anyways, read the story, and tell me what you thought. Let me know what I can do to make my next story better! I do wanna improve!
Disclaimer: I own nothing of the characters, setting or plot of Fullmetal Alchemist. I am simply a fan who wishes to see what she can do with words.
I tossed back another drink, and tried not to think of her. Gold hair, jet black eyes, a quiet disposition, and a never hesitating smile. A gentle woman, and a crack shot with any type of firearm in her hand. My alchemy teacher's daughter, my best friend, my subordinate, my Riza. She and I had known each other for years, since I was a young man learning alchemy from her father, and she having just finished school, and starting a career.
I was sad to leave her when I went to take the State Alchemist's test, not only because she was the last connection to Hawkeye-sensei, but also in her own right. We had the greatest connections to my teacher, and grew closer in the weeks after he died than we had in the years I was a student. And she trusted me, even though she hardly knew me. My first years in the military were a time of idealism, of promotions, and of considering the tattoo on Riza's back. Then I thought of the array more than the girl, she was still but an acquaintance with whom I had handled a funeral of a mutual companion. The civil war was far away.
The Ishbalan annihilation campaign was a depressing time. Mow down people, sit, think, mow down people, new orders, repeat. When I learned Riza was in that hellhole with me I could feel a simultaneous happiness and sinking. Riza was here! The thought of her inherent goodness and gentleness made things seem better. Riza was here! If a woman, still a cadet was being used as a sniper what would they stop at? My party seemed to adore her, and defend the little blonde, and adopted her as their 'ward'. The campaign was terrible. I looked at anybody I knew and saw what they surely saw in me. Terrible eyes. Killer's eyes. This troubled me most in Riza, who I had known as a gentle, reserved girl, not a soldier.
Finally the war ended. I continued getting promotions, this time with a purpose in mind. Riza finished military college, and gained a place with my subordinates. We all learned how to live again, how to smile. Riza became the closest person to me, my best friend. I gave her the position as my aide, knowing that she had my back, just as I had hers. I told her to pass judgment on my actions, and she allowed me to judge what to do with the information she held secret, the information she had asked me to destroy. Somewhere here I realized I had grown to love her. Somewhere here the women went from a pleasant way to kill time, a bit of fun, to a distraction. A way to not think about the blonde, black eyed girl I couldn't keep off my mind.
I wondered that she had noticed nothing, with my near constant exceptions for her, my eternal interest in her welfare. Ordering her back behind myself, never mind the fact I was useless in the rain. Calling her before any of the girls when I found myself swamped with flowers, despite the fact that she didn't put up with frivolity. Refusing to allow her to come in harm's way when chasing homunculi, even though I knew she wouldn't listen. Of course, she tended to give me annoyingly levelheaded reasons why she ignored what I said, why she turned down my offers. I occasionally wonder what would happen if I could cause her to cool act, and let me in... The few times she's lost her cool rationality did seem to be because she thought something had happened to myself, but the best of friends do the same. Another night of musing comes to nothing, and so I finish my last drink, and totter out of the bar. Headed back home, to my empty bed, to spend another lonely night, filled with dreams of corn silk and jet, softness and steel, and all that makes up my loved lieutenant Riza Hawkeye.
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