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Riza has never wanted to kill. Not once in her entire life.
Not as a child, when her father’s abuse tread from the ominous, shallow waters of ignorant neglect to the tidal wave of searing betrayal under the punch of a dull needle.
Not in the military academy, where she was the butt of bullying, and her fellow cadets would shove and trip her during training, guffaw and tease her cruelly for her short hair and deep, serious voice.
Not in Ishval, where her orders to fire on sight were clear as the impregnable, cloudless blue skies above.
No, not once has she wanted to kill. Not until now, staring down the barrel of her pistol at this woman - this thing with claws and a cruel, bloody grin, her teeth shining as she gloats. Practically purrs in Riza’s face as she reveals what’s happened to her Colonel.
She says she’s killed him. A homunculus has killed her Colonel.
Riza wants to kill her.
It feels as though she’s floating above her own body, her control relinquished to the feral, dangerous side within that thirsts for blood, the side she wasn’t well-acquainted with. She feels no sympathy for this humanoid thing, this murderer, as she fires bullet after bullet into her chest, her head, her neck. She doesn’t have the wherewithal to think of Alphonse, who even in his blank suit of armor manages to look stunned and scared all at once. Scared of her.
She can’t stop herself. She doesn’t want to. She fires round after round after round at this personified sin; every time Riza thinks she’s ended her, she gets back up. She regenerates. Laughs at her. Asks if she’s ready to join her precious superior. Mocks her.
Revenge. Riza clings to it; it’s hot and bone-chilling all at once, but it’s better than rational thought. If she allows room for much else, she knows well the path into her own personal hell, and she’s afraid of it. So she keeps shooting, keeps fighting, keeps living. Because stopping to think of the consequences - what it means for her Colonel, her Roy, the man she loves, to be dead and cold in the underbelly of this godforsaken laboratory - can only end one way. She’ll follow him down soon enough. To live without him isn't an option.
Her gun jams. Her fucking gun jams. Lust is wavering, and Riza is sobbing. Sobbing so hard her entire body is shaking, mourning her loss. Her throat already feels hoarse; she’s never screamed so much in her life. And as Lust rises and her body knits itself back together and her claws curl into five jagged spears, Riza falls.
Death will be swift. She hopes he is waiting for her on the other side. Her Colonel, her best friend, her dearest one. She never got to tell him how much he meant to her. How he was a spark of light in a dark room, a sip of cold water in the desert, a warm blanket on a bleak midwinter night. How in her worst moments, he saw the best in her.
How ashamed he would be to see her now. For a moment, she is relieved he can’t.
Alphonse's terrified, tinny little voice is begging her to get up. He is a wall of refuge, a monolith, impaled many times through. Protecting her, even now, and giving her a chance. But she can’t take it. She can’t run anymore, can’t fight any longer. She doesn’t want to. Even now she feels the life draining out of her, her will to live slipping away and leaving her cold, useless shell behind.
“Listen, Alphonse,” she mutters. “Leave me behind and save yourself.”
He won’t hear anything of it, and she feels sorry for him. Sorry that he doesn’t understand exactly why this is the end of the road for her.
She tells him to run and she tells him to go. He can save himself; he can live through this. He has a body to recover, a brother to go back to. A little makeshift family with bonds thick as blood and strong as steel. He has something to fight for.
Without her Colonel, without their shared goal, their dreams, what does she have to cling to?
Her legs wouldn’t work even if she wanted them to. They’re numb and boneless, bearing the brunt of her weight as she plants her hands on the ground and wails and heaves.
Wait for me, she thinks desperately. I’ll be there soon.
But then a voice rings out, and Riza’s heart seizes. A voice so familiar and beloved, even as acid drips from it. There he stands, like Ares back from war. Hades, back from the underworld. A wound on his side is cauterized shut, crude and messy but good enough, and an obscene pattern is carved into his hand, a lighter clutched between his fingers. She’s never heard him so livid when he growls, “Well spoken. I couldn’t agree more.”
Riza wants to cry again. She wants to run to him, throw her arms around him and bury her face in his bare chest and beg him to never leave her side again - fraternization rhetoric be damned. She catches his eye, black as coal, dead and unforgiving, and she feels heat bloom in her chest when he snaps his fingers as does what she couldn’t.
And oh, he’s alive. Spirits above, he’s alive. Blessedly standing and breathing before them, dripping with sweat and soot. Alphonse covers her and they huddle behind his alchemical barrier, but it doesn’t stop the sickening stench of burning flesh - or whatever it is Lust is made of - from soaking through. The smoke is thickening, the fire growing, the snaps increasing. Then there are the screams, the inhuman shrieking like that of a tortured animal, and the realization of what he’s doing bursts in Riza’s chest.
He’s ravenous for revenge like she had been, but she sees now with a sick feeling in her gut that he’s taking it too far - that this quest didn’t start with Lust, and will only grow stronger after she’s dead. Riza wrenches herself out of Alphonse’s tight grip to scream for her Colonel over his shoulder.
Please stop, she begs him. We’re alive. Just let her go.
But he doesn’t stop. Perhaps he can’t. Perhaps he’s lost his grip on himself too; those cold, focused eyes don’t blink as he snaps again. Lust explodes in a burst of flame; it swirls upwards like a tornadic funnel. And still, she isn’t down, and Riza stifles a scream as Lust lunges for him yet again. He doesn’t hesitate as a spindly spear of a claw reaches for him. But it never does. Riza slumps in Alphonse’s arms as Lust begins to dissolve, bit by bit until she’s nothing but a sooty scorch mark at his feet.
The Colonel pitches, gripping his seared abdomen as he collapses. Riza is on her feet in an instant, her body weak and wobbly but determined to go to him. He grunts when he hits the ground. She slides to her knees next to him and pulls him into her arms, clutching him to her chest as a child would a beloved toy. She grabs at his open uniform to pull him closer, sinks her hand into his hair, and chokes on his name.
His palm is hot against the back of her neck. She’s nestled her nose into the crook of his collarbone and breathes him. His scent is a subconscious salve to her trembling; she is calming at his touch. She knows she should be gentler so as not to aggravate his wound, but she’s beyond logic. All she can cling to is this: he’s alive and in her arms. She repeats it like a prayer.
He winces.
“Colonel,” she whimpers. She moves to wrap her arms around his shoulders and gently lowers him to the ground, and it takes every instinct not to gasp when she sees how he’s staring up at her like this, gazing at her like she’s the most precious thing he’s ever seen amidst the waves of pain rolling through him. He reaches up to cup her cheek and she sinks into the motion, pressing one palm over his and sliding the other down to grip his forearm.
“Lieutenant,” he murmurs. “Are you alright?”
“Forget about me - we need to get you some help.”
She doesn’t realize she’s still crying until his thumb swipes aside a stray tear. The motion is so tender that it only makes her throat constrict more.
Alphonse kneels down next to them and the Colonel thanks him for protecting her, his subordinate. But he flinches through it, and it’s clear that he is in dire need of a doctor. And Jean Havoc is still out there somewhere, unconscious and wounded, in the bowels of this ugly, evil place. Alphonse scrambles into action and goes off to find help and locate their comrade. And Riza - Riza isn’t going anywhere.
They’re alone together, and her composure crumbles, tears streaming in rivulets down her cheeks, her breath staccato and sharp. The Colonel reaches up to stroke her hair, shushing her and whispering soothing little things to her, things of comfort and warmth and encouragement like he hadn’t burned someone to a crisp just minutes ago. But Riza can’t focus on the dichotomy with his soft touch upon her cheek and sweet words on his lips.
“Don’t cry,” he whispers. “Don’t cry, Lieutenant. We’re okay. Everything is alright.”
“It almost wasn’t,” she heaves. “S-she told me she’d killed you.”
He cracks a strained grin. He must be in so much pain. “That explains all the gunshots. The noise led me here.”
Then, the smile drops from his face, becoming suddenly serious. He grips her knee tightly and she meets his eyes.
“You can’t give up,” he says, his voice hard and stern. “Ever, Lieutenant. If something happens to me, I need to know that you’ll be able to carry on. If I’m gone--”
“Don’t say it,” she commands.
“It almost happened today. It could happen tomorrow or the next day. Lieutenant, you have to be ready--”
“If you go, I go!” she snaps harshly and squeezes his hand. There’s a wild, untenable look to her. They stare at each other, surprised at her outburst, and she slumps in on herself. Sighing deeply, she tries again. “It is my job to protect you. Where you go, I follow, sir.”
“Not into death,” he argues.
“ Especially into death. Without you--”
“Without me, there is a life to be lived--”
“I don’t want to--”
“You have to. There are bigger things--”
“Don’t you understand?” Riza cries, and there’s no warning for the way her entire body crumbles. She wraps her arms around herself and bows her head. Roy reaches up and brushes her bangs aside. Once, twice, thrice. He tucks the strands behind her ears.
“I think I might, now,” he says softly. “Lieutenant?”
“You’re everything to me,” she whispers.
With a deep groan, Roy pushes himself upright and pulls her into his arms, encircling her waist while she curls into him. Her arms wind around his neck as shudders roll through her; he strokes her back and presses his nose to her hair while she cries.
“I’m sorry,” she moans. She pushes her tears away with the heel of her hand. Roy chuckles and presses the softest kiss to her temple.
“Why’s that?”
“We’re not supposed to - this,” she says with a hiccup.
He sighs; it’s an affirmation if she’s ever heard one. His fingers card through her hair; it’s loosened from its clip, sheaths of it hanging down her back.
“And yet, here we are,” he hums into her ear. With a deep breath, she pulls back just so in order to see his face. She traces the outline of his jaw purposefully like she’s memorizing him with touch alone.
“I wanted you to know,” she says. “Before it was too late.”
His smile is sad and full of longing as he leans into her, and she allows herself to meet him halfway in a kiss so saccharine and so dear. It’s as delicate and soft as it is mournful; she can taste the heartbreak on his tongue, and at that moment she knows what he doesn’t have to say - that their love story might not have a happy ending.
But at least it has a beginning; in fact, its first chapter had been written long ago. And if they have as little time as they fear, Riza doesn’t want to keep herself at arm’s length any longer. She thinks of the ruins of Xerxes and the worn names on the tombstones in her hometown cemetery. One hundred years from now, no one would know their names, let alone their stories. If they’re so insignificant in the end, then she wants to love him while she can, in any way she can.
They trade slow, quiet kisses and whisper promises to each other, promises to protect one another, promises of unending devotion. He tells her that he’s been hers since the day they met, and her heart is soaring. She’ll be the light in his darkness, the hope in his hopelessness, the angel to chase away his demons.
Footsteps echo down the corridor and they aren’t alone anymore. Riza pulls herself out of his embrace and helps him to his feet in time for the medic team to emerge. They have Havoc on a stretcher, unconscious and bleeding, while Alphonse trots in after them. The team goes to tend to the Colonel while Riza hangs back.
She’ll meet them at the hospital. She rests a hand on Alphonse’s arm as they say goodbye outside on the sidewalk, and he embraces her as best as he can. The night breeze tousels Riza’s hair and she tips her head up to the sky and smiles.
A war is coming for them. Their future is unknown. But she knows this - forevermore, she’ll be by his side.