Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Riza has found herself in many terrible, borderline horrific experiences in her life. Between a childhood wrought with neglect and a career facing the worst society has to offer - Riza Hawkeye is no stranger to fear. Hell, she’s grown numb to it, that creeping sensation that there are eyes on her back - the terror that those eyes may decode the secrets of Flame Alchemy emblazoned on her spine - it’s a constant companion.

So here, in the catacombs of a city destroyed by the Amestrian military, she does not fear what is coming to her. Blood matts her hair and bruises color her once pale flesh, but the pain is bearable.

It’s the other parts of this whole ordeal that allow the creeping tendrils of distress to fill her gut. The deprivation of food, the lack of sunlight in this wretched place, and the thoughts they put in her head.

“You’re nothing to the military, you know,” her interrogator keeps reminding her. 

“You’re lost to them, a useless idiot bitch who couldn’t save herself.” 

“You are a loose end now, they won’t want you, they’ll assume you’ve already told us everything.” 

“They don’t care about you, why the fuck are you keeping such a tight lip?”

“We were ready to give you a chance, ready to give you the opportunity to get out of this alive. You fucked this for yourself.”

Each statement is laced with venom and the occasional blow to the head. Then there’s the minor ploys they use to exert control over her; a cigarette put out on her cheek, a soldier spitting into her eye. All things that she can handle in spite of their brutality.

The words that make her snap come days into her captivity… or perhaps weeks she can’t be sure of how much time is passing… Regardless, she feels blood oozing down the side of her head, breathing has become difficult these past few days, she wonders if her lungs are damaged or if she’s getting sick - either option is equally bad given the circumstances.

Her interrogator, a wretched man with greasy hair and a permanent scowl leans in close until their noses are almost touching. His breath tastes like cigarettes and the look in his eye is almost feral as he grips her jaw.

“No one is coming to save you,” he says.

Something within her snaps, perhaps it’s because out of any of the wretched words lobbed at her… this sentiment feels like it is not an exaggeration. It feels like it is laced with the truth in such a distinct and unavoidable way that she cannot shy away from it. Like the truth is the sun and she is an open field; she feels barren, exposed, and something within her is resolved to this fate.

She looks into his eyes with an unhinged glint in hers. “Good.”

He snarls and slaps her with the back of his hand. It doesn’t even sting, it doesn’t even register as painful. She’s been through too much for something as simple as a slap to jar her.

“We won’t get anything from her, our time’s up.” Another guard shakes his head.

“We packing up then?” The interrogator who just assaulted her asks.

A smirk crosses his features, “Yeah, think so.”

“Alright princess, one last ride.”

The pair of them gag her once more, cover her eyes, and remove her bindings from the chair they’d strapped her to. They rebind her wrists in front of her before they march her out of the room. All the while she doesn’t fight back, there is no point; she can’t fight back because of her injuries; she can’t fight back because she’s weakened from hunger and exhaustion; and even if she could fight… dying in the ruins of Ishval seems to be an appropriate way to go out.

She is thrown down a flight of makeshift stairs, she feels the crunching of her bones and the twisting of her already injured shoulder. The dust in her mouth saps out the last bit of moisture in her body it seems. It's been hours since she was allowed a drink and at least a day since her last meal, she doubts she’ll be given anything now.

There are arms under her armpits again dragging her back into a cell. Fleetingly, she wonders what ‘packing up’ means. Are they moving locations? If so, where is she going? For what purpose? Will they continue traversing the ruins of Ishval? Will they take her to another city? Another country? Why are they leaving at all?

“Take off the blindfold, boys, I want her to see her fate before she suffers it.” A voice she vaguely recognizes speaks with clear and concise intention. Her blindfold is ripped off along with a small chunk of hair in the process. She doesn’t even flinch.

The room is poorly lit, most of this hideout is shoddily thrown together anyway but this place is especially poorly kept. There are soldiers around, throwing documents and weapons into a crate as if they really are skipping town. Why she needs to see this, she doesn’t know, and frankly she doesn’t care.

Or at least, she doesn’t until she notices that this man - one of her interrogators - is looking at her with keen interest. She is reminded of her father and the way he looked at his research. The way her father looked at Roy when he came to stay with them. The way her father looked at her when he chose to mar her forever.

“How does it feel attending your own funeral?” He asks.

She narrows her gaze and then she is hoisted off the ground. It happens in slow motion: she feels weightless, her eyes scan the room until she spots a narrow box and the realization hits her.

She screams and while the gag keeps the sound muffled, she feels it tearing her throat apart. She kicks and writhes, fighting back for the first time in days. She is too weak, too deprived of energy to do anything beyond cause their hands to tighten.

They throw her into the box and slide the lid closed, she kicks against the wood but she hears the crackle of alchemy and wonders briefly if one of the guards has changed the makeup of the box. The falling sensation says otherwise, she can’t be sure how far down she goes but it’s not a short distance.

Her spine and skull tingle when she lands, the stinging numbing pain shoots throughout her body like a complete electrical current. Like it will keep running through her unless she loses consciousness.

She can feel tears leaking into her ears as the lid of the box bows a bit. Like something has sat down on top of her casket. Her casket , the words make her squirm more, they make her panic more because she cannot deny the all consuming fear clutching her insides.

It clicks when it is too quiet, the weight on top of her is dirt, she is now four or five or six feet underground.

No one is coming to save her. Her rapid heartbeat continues as a wash of ice cold awareness washes over her.

No one is coming for her. No one is coming to help her.

How would they even know where to find her? She doesn’t even know where she is. Beyond that, how will they know she’s been buried alive? She doesn’t know… she doesn’t understand how anyone could do this to another person. She knows… she knows as a monster herself how easy it can be to explain evil away to oneself. 

For all the terrible things she’s done… she’s never done something so deliberately cruel, something so personally wicked. But who is she to count herself out of the same category as the men who did this to her? She doesn’t get to decide her fate. She doesn’t get to decide what cruelty looks like. She’s a perpetrator of evil herself.

No one is coming to save her.

Perhaps that’s a good thing, perhaps no one should come for her. Why would they? Isn’t she a monster too? Isn’t she just as vicious? Just as cruel?

She remembers Kimblee telling her to remember the faces of her victims. Now she does. In the darkness of her own casket she remembers the people whose lives she tore apart. She remembers that many of them didn’t even get buried, how their corpses were left to decay in the brutal Ishvalan sun. She is once again afforded a luxury they never received. Even in death she is treated better than she deserves.

No one is coming to save her.

She remembers her father telling her something similar once.

“No one is going to help you, girl, act like it,” he said. She doesn’t remember the context, only the odd way he’d emphasized that statement. Like it was an undisputed fact, monotonous, as if he hadn’t told her in one breath how worthless she was.

No one is coming to save her.

Her mind shifts focus from her father to Roy. Sweet little Roy who had a youthful fullness to his cheeks when he first arrived at her home in the middle of nowhere. He had been so gentle, he’d smiled so sweetly at her, surprised and enthused that one of his roommates was a girl near his age.

She remembers how terrified he looked when he first saw her father hit her. How he had barreled into the kitchen and told Berthold to stop. That he looked at her with such tenderness as he helped her ice her cheek. How sad and how sorrowful he seemed at her predicament.

No one is coming to save her - but Roy did. 

He made her see that the world would not inherently turn its back on her. That there were good people out there and some of them would turn and try to help, even if they didn’t know how.

In her mind's eye she conjures a mosaic of images over these past few years. She remembers meeting each of them, forming connections with them in a way she had never experienced before.

She remembers Havoc looking deeply offended when she suggested they were not friends ( you have to know that I’m taking that as a challenge Lieutenant ). How Breda knew her coffee order by heart and seems to have a sixth sense for her moods. Breda who would leave her little chocolates after rough meetings and Havoc who always offered to help regardless of the task.

Falman who could always be counted on to have a conversation without words. She remembers locking eyes with him over a manila folder while Roy and Havoc tried to dispute who could outlast the other at a drinking game. How they shared a look again and wordlessly plucked their respective charges off the floor and got them home  

She can perfectly see Fuery’s youthful smile when she agreed to take Hayate. How he had come to her for career advice and told her that he trusted her. Edward and Alphonse who came to her when they needed help, showing up at her door unannounced just to see her dog. Just because she made them feel safe.

No one is coming to save her.

So it is a damn good thing she can save herself. 

She braces her bound hands to the top of the casket and she jams her knee into the lid. Over and over again, she kicks at the lid and watches it jolt with the - albeit weak - pressure she’s applying. Her knees ache, she thinks one of them might be bleeding but she doesn’t care, she will get out of this, she has to.

No one is coming to save her.

She will be her own fucking hero.

Her mother wasted away in a place she hated, died in isolation, miserable and tied to a man who had gone mad. All because she didn’t think she could help herself. Because she was resigned to apathy.

Riza will not suffer that fate.

Dirt rains down over her legs, spilling into the box and coating her in filth. It’s warm and wet, dense like a sort of compacted clay. She closes her eyes and swipes at the dirt, trying to ensure the bulk of it surrounds her legs.

The splintered wood cuts her hands as she uses the broken lid as a sort of shield for her face. It won’t last long, she knows that, but if she’s going to claw her way out of the proverbial grave she has to do it.

Dirt fills her nostrils, she has to start breathing from her already dry and parched mouth. But no one is coming to save her and she thinks for the first time in her life she doesn’t want to die.

She wants to see her family again.

The dirt is so stuck under her nails it feels like it’s cutting the hypersensitive skin. She cannot see, she can barely breathe behind the cloth over her mouth, she knows that this haphazard burial is the work of alchemy. There is no other explanation, they wouldn’t have been able to do this so quickly otherwise. They buried her alive with alchemy, her father - wherever he is - must be wishing he’d thought of it first.

No one is coming to save her. But she doesn’t need them to.

It feels like forever, clawing through the dirt, her body acting on pure adrenaline. Her impetus to escape is now completely overshadowed by her intrinsic human instinct to live. She will keep going because there is no turning back, there is no other option. There is no lying in her coffin waiting for death. Now there is purpose, now there is action.

Relief rips through her as her still bound hands bursts out of the ground, the stale air of this prison might as well be a fresh spring breeze. Her fingers scrape at the ground to find purchase, to find something sturdy she can grasp onto to hoist herself up the rest of the way.

She scrabbles, more desperate than ever to free herself from the dirt. When her face breaks the surface, she nearly cries - blinking the dirt out of her eyes she pulls herself to a crawl. Literally dragging herself out of hell.

“Holy shit,” she hears a familiar breathy voice.

“Hawkeye!” Two arms are pulling her into a tight embrace. “Thank god you’re okay.”

She looks up to see the absolutely shocked face of her commander. Roy Mustang with his still round cheeks and dark adoring eyes. He looks horrified and relieved as he pulls the gag off her lips and tenderly wipes her face to clear away some of the filth.

Her bloody, dirty hands reach up and cradle his face, “Roy… you came.”

“Of course I came.”

She doesn’t know who else is here, she doesn’t really care. She pulls his face to hers and kisses him. For so long she’s wanted to, there was always a reason not to kiss him; duty, fear of repercussions, her internal belief that he would reject her. None of that matters.

No one was coming for her but Roy did. Of course he came.

Roy kisses her back, fervently, desperately, like she is the air she just fought like hell to breathe. She hears a gunshot and it tears her gaze away.

Maes Hughes is holding a smoking gun, Riza can’t remember if she’s ever seen him kill a person. But the man who told her that this was her funeral is now dead in Havoc’s arms. Havoc throws the corpse away and spits at it.

“Riza… let’s get you out of here.” Roy clutches her a bit tighter, pulling her attention back to his adoring face.

She lets out a choked sob as she hides her face into his chest. His hands feel so big as he tugs her in closer, as he lifts her whole weight into his arms.

He came for her. When no one was coming to save her, he did. He will always come for her and that’s why she will stay by his side. Why she will return his devotion a hundred times over.

That’s why she loves him.

Chapter Text

Chapter Text

Riza jumps at the sound of her phone ringing. She really shouldn't, not these days anyway, the unit calls at least three times a day to check on her, Hughes calls at the end of each day to give her an update on her case, and Roy calls throughout the day whenever he gets a spare moment.

Still, the sound jolts her out of the mindless task of washing the dishes; makes her gasp and drop the plate she'd been holding into the chasm of bubbles. She steels herself against the counter, trying to catch her breath.

It's been sixteen days since her rescue, sixteen days since she was buried alive, but it's only been ten days since she was released from the hospital. Ten days of constant phone calls, ten days of people showing up unannounced to help her with house work, ten days of making sure she eats; ten days of being smothered by the kindest most thoughtful people she knows.

Black Hayate bumps his nose at her ankle, whimpering as the phone continues to ring. She peels off her rubber gloves and scoops up the dog, his warm little body against her chest makes her feel safe, makes her feel protected.

"I know, I know, I hate it too," she whispers against his snout. She cradles his little jaw as she kisses his cheeks. He nestles into her neck as she walks to the phone.

She hesitates to answer, preparing herself for an onslaught of questions like 'have you eaten today' (yes) 'did you take your meds?' (yes) 'did you sleep last night?' (no) 'do you need anything' (yes but she won't say as much).

"Lieutenant Hawkeye," she answers stiffly.

"Ah, Lieutenant, this is Lieutenant Colonel Marcus from investigations. I'm the agent in charge of your case."

Riza spills Hayate onto the floor at that. "Good afternoon, sir."

"Good afternoon, I'm calling for two reasons. The first is to let you know that your long term disability has been approved, so you'll be able continue receiving your medical benefits from the military so long as your case is pending."

"I…" Riza swallows her comment. She didn't request long term disability, she'd been banking on returning to the office at the end of the week. She'd been relying of the idea that things would be going back to normal and she could distract herself from the plague of fear haunting her day to day.

"I also wanted to set up an appointment to go over your case. Would next Thursday work?"

Riza hesitates again, but this time she spits out. "Of course, what time?"

She sets up her appointment as dread pools in her gut. She's getting fired, at best they'll give her an honorable discharge, at worst this is an interrogation. She feels the anxiety crawl into her fingers as she replaces the receiver.

She squats down and tries to even out her breathing, Hayate squeezes between her knees and licks at her nose. She threads her fingers through her hair and squeezes her scalp.

They're going to fire me… they're going to fire me oh my god, what am I going to do?

She hears a knock at the door and a twist of a key in the lock, but she doesn't move. She stays frozen on the ground what if they take you again? her mind supplies unhelpfully as the fear freezes her in place.

The heavy footfalls sound so familiar a part of her relaxes, still, she can't help but flinch when a hand rests on her upper back.

"Slow breaths, sweetheart, slow breaths," Roy's gentle voice prompts her into sucking down air. "That's it, just like that."

She didn't know she'd been crying until she raises her gaze to look at him. Tears slip down her cheeks as she sobs.

"Roy,"

"Shh, I'm here, it's okay." He pulls her into his embrace. She finds comfort there, even if her face presses awkwardly into the buttons and folds of his uniform.

She clings to him and sobs so hard she almost heaves. He doesn't ask questions, he doesn't pry, he sits and waits for her to come off of the panic. Then he's doting on her all over again, he lightly scolds her for doing the dish when she knows he'll do them. She reminds him she can do the damn dishes, he reminds her that he wants to help.

"Do you think…" she swallows thickly. "Is Hughes home or at the office?"

Roy looks at her cautiously, "He should be home, why?"

"I'm just curious about my case," she says limply. "They told me that they were filing long term disability for me while I wait. I wondered if he heard anything."

"I'll call him in a minute."

"No, I can call him, it's my case," she says idly dialing Hughes' home phone number.

Just as she starts to think he might not pick up when his voice chimes through the receiver.

"Yellow?" He asks with a chuckle.

"Lieutenant Colonel? It's me, Hawkeye."

Hughes sobers up quick at that, "Oh, hey Hawkeye, what's up? Are you okay? Do you need anything?"

"I'm fine, thank you, I was just wondering if you heard anything about… about my case?" Riza asks tensely.

A pause followed by a sigh cuts through the static of the line. "No, I haven't heard anything. I can get on a train tomorrow morning to-"

"No, that's okay, no news is good news, right?" She asks already knowing the answer.

"Right," Hughes seems relieved to be spoonfed a comfortable response.

"Okay, well, thanks for taking my call. I didn't mean to bother you or anything."

"You're never a bother, Riza, my phone and door are always open."

Riza swallows thickly then, "Thank you… have a good night."

"You too,"

Riza puts up the phone and rubs her neck, "Nothing."

"Like you said, no news is good news," Roy reminds her.

"Yeah," she says quietly.

The knock at the door makes her gasp and she slaps a hand over her mouth as shame blooms in her throat.

"It's okay, I've got it," Roy brushes by her, pecking the back of her head as he goes.

"Special delivery!" Havoc and Fuery have brought dinner.

Riza's been eating herself sick off of take out, and gained a bit more weight than she lost at this point. Still, the gesture makes her smile as she slips onto the sofa.

Havoc sits besides her and pats her leg, "I have office drama I need to share."

She listens to each story with rapt curiosity, she eats her meal without too much push back from others about the small amount, and then she fights sleep in Roy's arms. The truth is, they know she hates sleeping alone now, they know she can't fall asleep without someone by her side.

That doesn't stop her from trying, even if Roy's body against hers is so soothing and such a deep comfort. She's vaguely aware of him carrying her to bed, and she remembers twisting her fingers up in his jacket begging him to stay in the ensuing silence. He's not with her when she wakes up in a panic, the sun splayed on her face is not helping her currently overheating body.

In the ten or so days before her appointment she wildly oscillates between convincing herself everything is fine and nothing will ever be fine again. She keeps it to herself that she even has a meeting, but her spiraling is obvious. Roy tries to get her talking but she just finds herself saying nothing substantive.

She wears her skirted uniform to the meeting, she technically doesn't have to given that she's on leave, but it centers her. She nervously fidgets with the length of the skirt and the fabric of her holster digs into her thigh in an unfamiliar pinch. It's been over a month since she's had a gun against her skin; she can't tell if it feels wrong or not.

"Ah, Lieutenant Hawkeye, thank you for being so flexible with me," Lt Colonel Marcus shakes her hand.

"Of course, sir," she ensures he voice is even as she follows him into his office.

"How have you been, Lieutenant? I hope your feeling better these days," he closes the door and holds out her chair.

"I've been well, sir, thank you."

He shuffles with his documents, "So, let's go over just a few reports I have here…"

He goes into a long string of explanations, he goes over the four separate interviews she's had making sure none of the details are missing. He hands her stacks of documents before he folds his hands a levels with her.

"Lieutenant, do you understand what I'm getting at here?"

Riza pauses, "Frankly, sir, I don't."

He sighs, "I'm saying that in light of everything you've endured and your recovery prognosis; coupled with our investigation coming to an end… it is my recommendation that you are put forward for early retirement."

The world stops turning as Riza swallows that.

"Sir, respectfully, I don't want to retire."

"I understand that, Lieutenant. You have an impeccable record, stellar recommendations from your academy instructors, your reputation very much proceeds you… but in light of everything, I can't in good conscience recommend that you return to active duty."

"I-"

"Look, the truth is Lieutenant you've been targeted once for your work and now it's known that you were in fact abducted. As a bodyguard that's not well taken by the higher ups, as someone who works with highly confidential top secret materials, that's not going to fly. Targets will think you're someone they can handle - be it getting information out of you or taking you out all together. The board looked at all of that and came to their conclusion. I could recommend you for desk duty but I think we both know that would be unsatisfactory for you and your superior, especially given your last assignment."

"Have you asked the Colonel?"

"We have, that was all a part of our internal investigation and he wants you reinstated, but that's only part of the story here." Marcus looks at her with an expression that Riza can't discern if it's honest or not. He looks sympathetic but his voice is firm. "I know this isn't the news you wanted to hear but based on my investigation I truly believe this is the best way forward for us."

"Even if I don't want to retire?"

"Frankly, Lieutenant, I was instructed to discharge you," he says with a sigh. "The investigations panel has left me with no choice. I fought for you to be offered retirement because I think your record of outstanding service warrants that much. You'll have a good pension, government benefits, and honorable discharge will make it much easier to find a new job if that's what you want to do. The choice you have is retirement or dishonorable discharge."

"What did I do?" Riza asks, affronted by the idea that any of this could possibly be true. "What did I do wrong? I didn't give them anything and-"

"The remaining faction members we have in custody have spun a story about you giving them secrets. None of their information so far has been accurate but the insinuation is enough. Beyond that, Mustang and his unit spent two weeks and a substantial amount of resources to find you. The upper brass never cleared them to do so, it was this office's job to investigate your disappearance. We are glad you were recovered, of course we are, but all of these things add up."

Riza makes eye contact with the Lieutenant Colonel and she decides that he's earnest, at least as far as his distaste for doing this goes.

Riza clutches at the hem of her skirt, "So there's nothing I can do?"

"Appeal is possible but only if they discharge you and they're rarely won. It's not my place to give you my opinion, but I would seriously consider the implications of that. You'd spend years having to relive this horrific thing that happened to you, years fighting the system to maybe get your job back. Those are years you won't get back, years you could spend healing from all of this. There's more to life than the military."

She closes her eyes and sits with that for a moment. There might be more to life than the military but she's given so much of herself to the military. Who will she be without it? And does she really want to fight to stay in the military when it has caused her so much anguish in the first place?

He pushes a folder into her view, "These are the papers for retirement, your honorable discharge certifications are included. It's just a few signatures."

Her eyes burn as she flips open the folder, she blindly scans the outline of benefits - her pension, health care, and priority hiring notes make her feel sick. She bites her lip in thought.

"Does the committee… who else knows?"

"The committee was closed, it's just me and my superiors."

So Hughes doesn't know, of course, she shouldn't be surprised. She's not surprised but the heartbreak settles uncomfortably in her chest. She really thought… she really thought that she would be okay. That her reputation would carry her through this, that she survived without giving into those horrible men.

It wasn't enough. It was never going to be enough. She never was.

She starts signing the papers before she can convince herself to fight back. This isn't a battle worth fighting, maybe it will heal her in some small way. Maybe she will get her life back… eventually.

"This is the right decision, Lieutenant, your service has been so appreciated."

His words are empty, "When can I… um… expect to…"

"Your case will be transferred to the veterans department, you'll be assigned a case worker and they'll carry you through that process and transition to civilian life."

Riza nods, "So…"

"You can go up to Mustang's office to clear out your things." He takes the files and starts to reorganize. She's just another case to him, just more paper on his desk.

"Right,"

"Good luck, ma'am."

Riza stands and swallows her tears as she exits the office. She's no longer sir or Lieutenant, she'll get to keep her rank given the 'honorable' discharge but it'll mean nothing. Her legs tremble as she carries herself up to her office for the last time.

She pushes down that thought as she opens the door.

"Hey we were- Lieutenant!" Havoc spits out his cigarette and all the men rise to salute her.

"No need for that," she says limply.

"What are you doing here, sir?" Fuery asks kindly.

"I uh-"

Roy and Hughes tumble out of his office both of them looking at her in shock.

"Lieutenant!"

"Hawkeye!"

"Sir," she nods to them.

"Why are you here?" Roy asks.

"Is everything okay?" Hughes pushes passed him.

"I'm… just here to clean out my desk."

Pin drop silence overtakes them all, they shift glances and try to figure out what that means.

Riza floats to her desk and keeps her gaze low as she pulls out her few personal items.

"I… huh?" Breda asks.

"I don't understand, what do you mean?" Roy moves closer to her.

"I had a meeting with the investigations office and… I am… retiring."

"What?" Roy's question is pointed and almost accusatory.

"You had a meeting with investigations?" Hughes butts in, "You should have sent for me! I'd have raised hell for you, I could have-"

"They were… they said the committee was closed so-"

"That's bullshit!" Hughes says harshly.

Roy nods, "We can… we'll go right now and-"

"Sir, it's probably for the best," she says wetly. Her voice cracks in a way she can't control. "I mean, I can barely function anymore and I can't sleep and there's no way I'd be able to watch Roy's back when I can't even watch my own and-"

"Hey, slow down for me," Roy puts a hand on her bicep and she crumples in his arms.

"I'm ruined now, so it's fine," she manages to spit out through her tears.

"No, no you're not ruined," Roy tells her gently. "Falman go get her some tea."

"No! No, I just want to go," she pulls herself away from him and stumbles over her chair. "I can't be here anymore, I don't belong here so… so just let me go."

It's quiet as she tearfully shoves her personal items into her bag. She almost didn't bring one, she's glad she did…

"Let me take you home, Hawkeye," Hughes says.

"You don't-"

"You walked, right?"

"Well, I… yes, but-"

"I'm going with you," he insists.

"Fine," she keeps her gaze low. She can't watch herself walk out of the office for the last time, she can't think of it like that. She can't stew in that thought or she'll start sobbing again.

The drive is a blur, Hughes keeps trying to talk to her, trying to coax details out of her… but she doesn't have the strength to explain it all. Black Hayate circles her ankles when they enter her apartment. She throws her jacket on the floor and tries not to scream.

It's all bullshit and the rage finally boils over, she chokes on her sobs and she finds herself babbling in a heap on the floor.

"None of this is okay, Hughes," she tells him as he rubs her back. "Why wasn't it enough? Why wasn't I enough?"

"You are enough," he says limply.

"I got kidnapped because I wasn't fast enough, because I wasn't strong enough. They fired me because I didn't do enough and-"

"No, they fired you because they know they fucked up. They're mad that so many people disobeyed them because we love you. That's what this is about, they're mad Mustang went rogue and that we went to find you. They're mad because we made fools of their fucking system and they're taking it out on you. I wish they wouldn't and I'm going to cause a scene, I promise."

"Don't you get it? I failed."

"You didn't fail,"

"I'm a stain on Roy's record now, the bodyguard who couldn't even keep herself safe." She weeps into her hands.

"You aren't a stain on anyone's name, don't say that about yourself," he scolds her lightly. "Who gives a fuck what the military thinks? You are so much more than them, you're Riza fucking Hawkeye, you are incredible and you have survived so much. You're my hero and you're worth so much more than the price the military put you at. You're my friend, Riza, you're my friend no matter what."

She doesn't know what to do with that, before she can try to respond the door to her apartment flies open and both of them are jumping out of their skin.

"Sorry! Sorry!" Roy's there in the doorframe, panting for breath with his jacket falling off his arm. "I just… I just had to-"

"You should be at work," Riza manages to scold him weakly. She wipes her nose with the back of her wrist as she swallows more tears. Before she can go to stand Roy is falling to his knees in front of her with a ring in his hand.

"I was… I planned… I don't have a plan but-but I just, I told you that… and… hold on," he gasps for breath for a moment as Riza stares at the ring.

A small silver band with a diamond pinched in the middle of it, there's a carving on the band; a small nearly indiscernible transmutation circle.

"Roy-"

"You remember? When we were kids and you lost your mother's ring so I made you one but it broke two days later because I didn't do a great job transmuting it?"

She nods, that ring had practically melted off her finger, the metal compound he'd tried to manipulate was brittle. It snapped when she reached into the oven, they both laughed as they tried to get the molten metal off the oven floor. It was never the same after that - between her and Roy. There was a thickness in the air that they couldn't name, that they wouldn't name because it was simply never the right time. Then she kissed him when she was freshly born from the earth and things have never been the same in much the same way. History continues to rhyme with that ever echoing past… it's a beautiful thing, isn't it?

"I made dozens of them until I found a compound that worked and-… and I always swore I'd propose with it so-"

"Propose?" Riza asks.

"Marry me, Riza, nothing's stopping us now and I want to be with you."

"But I… I'm such a disaster."

"I am too! I'd be lost without you, I was lost without you, I won't survive without you."

"I failed you,"

"I failed you first," Roy says. "I failed you hundreds of times over so let's just… let's just… just stay with me."

"You… you still love me? Even though I'm a broken mess?" Riza's eyes are wet again as she meets his gaze. "Even though I can't protect you anymore? Even though I broke our promise?"

"I will never stop loving you and-and-and I'm more of a mess than you, I always have been so-"

"I love you both so much but please never confess your feelings in front of me again. This is causing me physical pain. For the love of god, just kiss already," Hughes groans.

Riza glances at where Hughes is covering his eyes, his cheeks are a bit pink, perhaps from embarrassment at seeing something he shouldn't. Or maybe them fumbling through a love confession really is hard to watch.

Either way, Riza surges forward and knocks Roy off his feet with a kiss. He holds her so tight he might crush her, the ring rolls away and Hughes has to fish it out from under the coffee table. It is messy and imperfect, just like them.

She cries the whole time and Roy cradles her in his lap, promising to never leave her side. Promising to always be there for her, to be with her. None of it is pretty, she sobs and he rocks her through it. Black Hayate nips at her fingertips when he escapes Hughes' unsuccessful attempt to wrangle him.

She's not sure any of this feels right, the future is still uncertain, but she has him. She has him and a whole host of people who love her. She needs something to live for and when she was at her lowest point that something was Roy.

He came for her when she was convinced she was rotting in her grave. He came for her when no one else would. He stood by her side every day she was in the hospital and he hasn't left her alone since.

She remembers then, that she pulled herself out of hell for this; for the people who love her. She wanted to live so badly for them didn't she? She wanted to make it back to Roy and Hughes and Ed and Al and Havoc and Breda and Falman and Fuery.

This is what she survived for, this and them and to keep having moments of being surrounded by love she may or may not deserve. She fought for this, for him.

There's more to life than the military, and right now that life is staring at her like she is a sun born from nothing. Like he has never seen light before and now he can bask in the warmth and the glow.

She fought to live, and maybe now, she really can.