Archive of Our Own ^beta

Riza had always felt at home in the rain. Perhaps that was what made her partnership with Roy Mustang so unusual—not the fact that she was his subordinate (on a technicality, anyway; they both knew she was completely his equal), but because he was fire and she was water, two elements that were supposed to be complete opposites. A calm, unflinching lake in the face of a blaze.

And “partnership” was a funny word, anyway, because it implied romantic involvement and Riza knew that would never be possible. Anti-fraternization laws aside, dating was one of those facets of the normal world she’d never quite been able to grasp. But she and the colonel were partners, if not in the colloquial sense. They relied on one another for support and strength and harsh reprimandings alike. It was their differences as much as their similarities that bound them together.

She watched careful drops of precipitation trace their paths down her window pane. It was the first evening she’d had to herself in a long time. There’d been so much work to do since the transfer to Central Command, and that escapade with Barry the Chopper on her previous so-called night off had left her swamped. It was nice to be able to sit and breathe for once.

There was a knock on her door. Riza stood, stretching, and went to answer it.

Colonel Mustang stood in her entryway.

“Sir,” she hissed, “what are you doing here?”

“I’m not allowed to drop by for a visit?” he asked innocently.

“I know perfectly well you’re fully aware of the answer to that question.” Which probably meant something was wrong.

“So are you going to let me in or not?”

Riza simply turned on her heel and stalked back into the room. He followed her, closing the door behind him. “Thanks.”

He wore his typical off-duty assemblage of a tailored suit and tie. His usually rebellious hair had been flattened in the downpour, and it dripped a small puddle on Riza’s carpet. Without a word she handed him a towel from her bathroom.

“So, colonel, please explain what could be worth losing us both our jobs.”

“Don’t be so dramatic, Hawkeye.”

“This would be the first time I’ve ever been accused of that, sir.”

Roy tentatively sat down on the edge of her couch. It was then Riza noticed he was shaking. She immediately went to his side.

“What’s wrong?”

He tried to avoid her question by brushing it off. “Why would anything be wrong, lieutenant?”

“It’s alright, sir. You can tell me.”

That was when he crumbled. He buried his head in his hands, which were shivering violently, though whether that was from cold or emotion Riza couldn’t tell. He made a noise like death and it hit her: Roy Mustang was crying.

She had only ever seen him cry once, at Hughes’ gravestone. This was nothing like that instance—this was huge, choking sobs that were painful to listen to.

“Please, colonel,” she said softly, laying a hand gently on his shoulder, “talk to me.”

“I think I’m falling apart.” He took a shuddering breath, lifted his head, and wiped his eyes, giving her a brave attempt at a smile. “Well. At least it’s raining. I have an excuse this time.”

“Is this why you came?” Riza asked in an undertone.

“I don’t have anyone else to go to. You’re the only one I trust enough to…break down like this.”

Riza’s heart rate sped up. Stupid.

“Tell me why you’re falling apart.”

“This morning I woke up and I remembered Hughes is dead.” Mustang stared straight ahead of him, but his glassy eyes didn’t seem to be registering anything he saw. “And then I…well. I nearly set fire to my apartment. I was so angry, Hawkeye. After the war I thought I knew what anger felt like, but this…it’s scaring me.”

She took his hands, not caring for the moment if it was inappropriate in the eyes of the law because he needed her and she could hardly bear to see him in such agony.

“Colonel. You can’t let that anger get the best of you.”

“I’ve been trying not to, but what with the transfer to central and investigating the conspiracy and everything else…I’m barely eating, I don’t sleep unless it’s on accident. I’ve been so consumed in my work, the same drive that’s pushing me forward is sucking all the life out of me. And on top of everything…I’m useless on rainy days.”

He started to cry again. Riza sent up a quick apology to any gods that might be in existence and slapped him.

“What was that for?” He held his cheek, stunned.

“You need to take care of yourself for once, sir. You can’t save the world if you refuse to live in it.”

“You’re one to talk,” he retorted, “you’re just as bad as I am.”

Riza straightened her shoulders. “I know, sir. That’s why the two of us are taking a sick day tomorrow.”

“What?” Roy sprang up, alarmed, “No, you can’t! Please, lieutenant, I need to—

“You don’t get a say in this,” Hawkeye told him flatly, “also, I’m making us dinner.”

“But—

“Sir. If you don’t take a break soon you’ll become a safety hazard.”

Riza began pulling out pots and pans in her apartment’s tiny kitchenette. She set some water to boil on the gas stove and turned back to Roy. “I know you have a lot of work right now. We both do. But you aren’t the only one you’re scaring.” Now her hands were shaking too. “I’ve been so worried about you, colonel. I’m afraid of what you’ll try to do if you keep going like this.”

It was his turn to go to her. He looked pale, even paler than he had been before.

“I’m…I’m so sorry, Riza.”

She gave him a wan smile. “Now I know you mean it, you haven’t called me by my first name in years.”

They were silent as she finished cooking the meal. Her small outburst must have been enough to convince him a day of leave was needed, because he didn’t protest further. She poured the soup into two bowls and clomped one in his hands. “Eat.”

He obeyed her. Once they were finished she took him by the arm and led him into her bedroom. Even in his current state he couldn’t help an eyebrow raise.

“Why Lieutenant Hawkeye, how very licentious of you,” he said in a mock-scandalized tone.

“Sir?”

“Yes?”

“Shut up.”

But Riza couldn’t quite hide her grin. She turned her back while he removed his button-down and tie, then laid him down on the bed and smoothed the blanket over him, letting her hand linger just a moment on his chest. She could feel his heartbeat, steady and quick.

“Where will you sleep?” he asked.

“I’ll take the couch.”

He sat up, letting the covers fall off him. “No way.”

“My apartment, my choice. I’m taking the couch.”

He flopped down again with a groan. “You’re too stubborn, Hawkeye.”

“Stubborn and proud,” she said.

They were quiet again.

“Sleep as long as you need to. I’ll probably be up before you are, but I have enough groceries to last us a few meals. If anyone comes to the door, hide in here. I’m not getting court marshalled for your meltdown.”

“Yes ma’am.”

“Idiot.” She smirked at him, then grew serious. “I’m glad you came to me for help, sir.”

“I’m the one who should be thanking you.”

“That’s true.”

“Do I get a goodnight kiss?”

“You’re testing your luck.”

She leaned over and kissed him on the cheek anyway. For a moment they could almost pretend they were an ordinary couple, and Hawkeye found herself longing for that sense of normalcy. Then she stood back up again, and the illusion faded.

“Good night, Colonel Mustang.”

“Good night, Lieutenant Hawkeye.”

Riza stretched out on the couch, wrapping a blanket around her.

It isn’t much, she thought, what we can allow ourselves to have. But for now it’s enough.

Outside, the rain continued to fall.