[roy/riza; pg-13] Crocus Angustifolius - 4/6 Theme: 51. Will you get your wish? (52_Flavours) Characters: Roy Mustang x Riza Hawkeye Series: Fullmetal Alchemist Rating: PG-13 Notes: Fullmetal Alchemist (Hagane no Renkinjutsushi) is copyrighted by Hiromu Arakawa/Square Enix. This is a work of fanfiction for personal entertainment only. Both concrit and comments welcome and desired. The entire anime and movie are spoiled liekwhoa. Title:Crocus Angustifolius : Chapter 4: Cold War (Part 4 of 6) Author:emilie_burns Word Count: 14,000 Summary:It was going to be bad enough, subjecting himself to the forced polite conversations of the upper crust of society, to the whispers and looks behind his back when people thought he wasn't paying attention. Original LJ Post Date: December 18, 2005 @ 52_Flavours
Crocus Angustifolius Chapter Four Cold War
"It's another silent night. It's a cold war of who's wrong or right. Nobody's winning this unspoken fight. It's another silent night." - Reba McEntire
Unfortunately, the heavy snow which had started early last night finally let up shortly before lunch, resulting in Roy Mustang spending the rest of the afternoon silently cursing anything and anyone that might have any kind of control over the weather. There went a convenient excuse to avoid attending the Solstice Ball. Impassible roads weren't even an option to him, for the city's crew had worked diligently to clear the thoroughfares and byways in anticipation of the evening's travels.
He really did not want to go. Even before, when he still held high political aspirations, and functions such as those were virtually a requirement, the pomp and circumstance was often wearying in the amount of aggravation it could yield. Now, with the goals of reaching the top having died a fiery death in an assassination attempt two, almost three years prior, attending one just because felt absurdly close to willingly submitting to cruel and unusual torture.
It was going to be bad enough, subjecting himself to the forced polite conversations of the upper crust of society, to the whispers and looks behind his back when people thought he wasn't paying attention. Before, it never bothered him. Before, it was part of the role he played, the image he worked to project. Now, though... it was a different story. Even worse than the suspicions and dark glares was the pity. Nothing turned his stomach more than that.
But Jean had made a point which he hadn't been able to logically argue. People were expecting him to attend, expecting him to engage in old routines. The Parliament and high ranks didn't trust him, in spite of their pretty words, and he couldn't entirely fault them for that. Everything aside, what his reinstatement came down to was a pardon, and it wouldn't be well-met if he didn't play the part of being glad to be back, especially during one of the biggest holidays in all of Amestris, and one of Central's highlights.
But the part he was dreading the most was that he knew she would be there. She always went to the state-sponsored Winter Solstice celebration in the cities, when they were available. A military brat, the granddaughter of a lieutenant general she idolized, it was a family tradition which he doubted she would be inclined to break.
Roy studied his reflection in the bathroom mirror, turning his head slightly to examine the scars. If just seeing the protective eyepatch was enough to make her cringe like a kicked, guilty puppy, he idly wondered with a touch of disgust how much more punishment she'd insist on doling out on herself if she saw what it concealed.
She's already seen it, remember?
Swearing under his breath, he gripped the sink and ducked his head, trying to make the thoughts go silent, with little luck. Who do you think called the medics? Who do you think sat by your bed before you regained consciousness, while the nurses changed the bandages? Who do you think changed them before you regained enough strength to do it yourself? It was worse then. Maybe that's what She sees when She sees the eyepatch. Maybe if She knew how much it had healed...
"Shut up," he growled, looking back up to the mirror. The voice silenced. It was funny how the mind worked. The harder he tried to not say or even think of what he was trying to avoid, the louder the little whisper behind the impersonal pronouns echoed. The pronouns would capitalize themselves in his thoughts, and the end result was the same as saying her name. Ever since Havoc had tried to talk to him about Her a few weeks prior, that muffled whisper behind the pronouns had grown louder.
He hadn't been in the north long enough for the climate to freeze all the way down to the center. Try as he might, if there was a secret to exorcising her, he had yet to discover it.
As he looked in the mirror, he found himself inspecting his reflection with a critical, scientific view. The zygomatic bone had been shattered; the bone fragments and lack of support from the skull and facial muscles destroyed his left eye. Although some reconstruction work had been done, the eye socket was concave, as well as a portion of his cheek where the bone had been. The entire area was covered in scar tissue, now mostly white but still prominent. The stitches used to close the wounds left scars of their own, pockmarks which dotted the jagged lines. But all in all, the vicious redness from the early days had faded, and the injury was no longer swollen.
Roy tried to visualize Her reaction to seeing the injury, and turned from the mirror in disgust. Try as he might, he couldn't picture her having any reaction other than pity and guilt. As if She had destroyed him, rather than firing a wild shot that glanced off the side of his skull in her desperation to gun down Archer before he open fire.
He hadn't even expected to come out of the fight with Pride alive, and there they both had been, against all the odds. They were both alive, with injuries which more or less could be overcome, and life went on. At least it did, until She decided that it hadn't gone well enough, and proceeded to punish them both because of her own perception of failure.
"Riza, you damned fool," he whispered.
The little voice inside was back, scratching at the door locked against it. He steadfastly ignored it and pretended he couldn't make out the muffled words, pretended that he didn't feel them lance through his very core. Instead, he looked in the mirror and reminded himself again of what She would see, how she would look at him, and stubbornly insisted on underscoring the sheer folly of trying to rebuild bridges long since burned.
Roy grabbed the pocketwatch off the shelf and checked the time, biting back an oath. He'd procrastinated long enough. Even if he hurried, the odds of Havoc pulling up out front before he was finished getting ready were high. At least the dress uniform wasn't much more complex than his regular one, and he spared a bit of time pulling the eyepatch on, adjusting his hair over it. It was stiffer than a conventional one, designed to grant protection to the damaged bone structure, and slightly convex, giving an illusion of a normal facial shape behind it.
On went the dress uniform; so similar it was to his daily wear that it barely took him but a few minutes before he was fully dressed. Then came the sash, which he adjusted properly over his shoulder when he heard a knock from the vicinity of the front. Another moment was spared to ensure the ribbons and metals he still retained lay correctly, and coat in hand, he turned off the lights and walked to the door.
***
"What do you think?"
Sheska caught a glimpse of the blonde in the mirror, and turned to face her just as Winry did a bit of a spin, showing off the gown. Sheska studied every detail, from the scarlet lace trimming the cuffs of the long white sleeves which poofed a bit at the shoulders, to the heart-shaped, v-waisted scarlet velvet bodice, and down the slightly iridescent white of the skirt which made her think of ice. By the time she looked back up at Winry's face, the younger girl was grinning broadly.
"You like it. I'll be sure to let Rosé know. She made it for me." She spun around again and smoothed her hands over the skirt, looking it over. "I wanted an all-red velvet one but Grandma said I'm still too young for something so decadent." Winry made a face.
"I think that looks better on you than an all-red dress would," Sheska admitted, then looked back to her own reflection, smothering a sigh. The black sheath dress did look nice, but there was nothing to be done about her mousy hair and glasses, a point emphasized when Winry joined her by the mirror, pinning up her blonde locks.
"Stop fussing with your hair," Winry chided as their eyes met through the mirror. "You'll make the curls fall out."
Sheska blushed and gave her a bit of a sheepish smile. "Sorry," she apologized. "I always tug my hair when..."
"When you're nervous?" Winry glanced down to grab another hairpin and grinned, looking back to her. "What are you so nervous about?"
"You," Sheska admitted. "This. It's just... you're so pretty."
Winry smiled and looked at their reflections critically for a moment before stepping closer and slipping her arm around Sheska's waist. "We both are," she said, her gaze going back and forth across the mirror. "We had fun at the Solstice last year, this one will hopefully be a repeat success. Now finish getting ready; we're running late." She let go and reached for a couple more hairpins.
Sheska picked up her earrings and clipped them on. "When are you going to tell me about your secret weapons?"
"Never?" Winry quirked a faint and somewhat apologetic grin. "I'd normally tell you in a heartbeat, Sheska, you know that. I just think the information in the weapons is better kept private since it's dirty laundry."
Sheska turned her head to glance at Winry. "Dirty laundry? You have dirty laundry on Major Mustang?"
"Unfortunately." Her expression was distant and a bit sad, prompting Sheska to stop fussing with the clasp of her necklace and put her full attention on her. "I don't want to bring it up if I don't have to, so I'm hoping neither the major nor the lieutenant will be as stupid tonight as they've been for the last couple of months."
Sheska sighed and nodded in agreement. "Well, as they say, hope springs eternal."
"Indeed." Winry grabbed her wrap and pulled it around her shoulders. "That's one thing I did learn from Ed and Al. Kind of a shame that the grown-ups didn't seem to pay attention to that."
Sheska pulled on her coat and linked arms with Winry. "Yeah. I swear, if this doesn't work, maybe we should just lock them up in a room together naked."
Winry giggled. "I'll invent a water gun to help with the major. I'm afraid you're on your own with the lieutenant though."
***
For once, Riza Hawkeye was not only breaking her record of punctuality, but was seriously debating the merits of missing her first Solstice ball since she was seven, Ishbal aside. Of course, missing the ball was just silly, and that much she knew. She could just wear her dress uniform again for the second year in a row, in spite of always having alternating between uniform and a formal dress since entering the academy.
With his return, she had forgotten about the approaching holiday until it was already upon her, and then work kept her too busy and exhausted to attempt to shop for even something just off the rack. The majority of her non-casual, non-uniform attire was professional dress, unsuitable for an evening formal. Exactly three gowns hung in her closet, and one, she realized, was rather noticeably out of fashion. The other was a thin, sleeveless black dress too lightweight for the weather, and the final one...
She had automatically pulled it out of the closet and hung it over the door while getting ready, and only in midst of rolling up her hose did she fully register what she was about to wear. For the last fifteen minutes or so, she argued herself in silent circles while studying the gown, seated on her bed and clad in nothing but her underthings and a robe.
The hallway clock chimed the half-hour, startling her out of her musings. Black Hayate whined as she briefly ceased petting him, and she looked down at him, sighing. "What am I going to do about this mess?" she asked the mutt, who lay his chin on her knee and patiently regarded her with adoring brown eyes. His tail thumped twice on the floor, then resumed swishing from side to side against the rug.
"Wearing my dress uniform sounds like the most logical solution, but I wore that last year. If he's there..." Riza sighed and trailed off, quirking a faint smile at the look of rapt attention on Hayate's face. "He knows I've always alternated, and the year before this, I wore a gown." Riza glanced over to the door and cringed. "That gown."
Hayate whined and licked her hand, cocking his head to the side as he perked an ear. Riza looked back to the dog and scratched his neck. "The last time I wore that dress, the only time I wore it, everything was different. I didn't plan to wear it again, but I forgot to make time to shop. It's going to look bad though, wearing that again. Wouldn't you think that's rubbing it in someone's face, the better times, the old times, before everything's gone all wrong, wearing something like that tonight?"
He snuffled and bumped his head against her leg before resting his chin on her knee again, and whined softly, his tail thumping faintly on the floor. "Then we have the problem with the uniform. That's operating under the idea that he's even going to be there and would notice, but what I am saying? He's Roy Mustang. Of course he'd notice." Riza sighed. "He'd know I'm altering my routine, and no matter what I do, it would just make..."
She trailed off and shut her eyes, slipping off the bed to hug Hayate. He barked once as he twisted around and tried to lick her face, whining worriedly. "No matter what I do. I'm just going to be a reminder of everything that went wrong, everything I did wrong. Why am I even debating this?" Riza sniffled and fell quiet for a few moments, mentally going over the steps to properly field strip an automatic rifle. The busywork she gave her thoughts distracted her enough that the immediate threat of wet eyes passed.
Holding Hayate's head between her hands so he couldn't lick her when she pulled back, Riza looked at the dog. "Move forward. I can't do that if I'm sitting here half-dressed and running late and worrying over clothes because of the past."
He barked once and wagged his tail, panting.
"You agree with me, don't you?" Riza kissed the top of his head lightly and got to her feet. The thin, soft velvet slid down her body and loosely molded to her form. At least the elegantly simply dark green gown was classic enough to have withstood the style shifts since it was purchased. After a white hair bow, a string of pearls, some makeup, and ten more minutes, Riza was running fifteen minutes late and out the door.