Fullmetal Alchemist An Empty Land

**A/N: This is what happens when I make smartass comments to my friends. Ravenrocketer said not to read Royai fics while listening to the song "Somewhere Only We Know" so I decided to write one. This is the result. I own nothing but the plot.  
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Music filled the summer evening as a string quartet began to play. Something about the song seemed familiar but for the life of her, Riza couldn't tell where she had heard it before. Perhaps she was just tired from the events of the day. She had been up since four helping coordinate security for the inauguration; by the time it had finally rolled around she had almost been relieved. And proud, too. She had certainly been proud as she stood next to Roy Mustang, close enough to give him a gentle shove when he missed his cue to step up to the microphone for his speech. Now, she was practically dead on her feet even after a brief nap in one of the mansion's bedrooms. Her bedroom now, she realized. All of her belongings had even been there when she arrived.

A slight breeze picked up, ruffling her hair and creating ripples in the lawn that seemed to glow with the light of sunset. Riza's heart felt surprisingly light, swelling with the notes the wind carried toward her. Sitting alone at the little table under the pavilion, the chatter of Amestris's notable people faded. When Roy joined her a moment later, she turned to sit properly in her chair even though it meant she could see the crowd. Rebecca and Jean had insisted she take the night to celebrate, taking their positions in the upstairs windows of the mansion to keep Roy safe so she could enjoy the party but her nerves had still gotten the better of her when he had wandered off to get drinks, insisting she stay off her feet.

"Congratulations, Sir," she said, holding up the champagne he pressed into her hand.

He tapped his own glass to hers. "Thanks, Major. I couldn't have done it without you."

"It wasn't any trouble." Riza drained her glass with a smile. They both knew her words didn't so much stretch the truth as completely obliterate it, but Roy said nothing. "It's nice to be living out in the countryside again," she said after several moments' silence.

"Just like old times," Roy agreed. He had a faraway look in his eyes as he gazed past her at the trees that surrounded the yard. "I wonder how much has changed since we left. Is your treehouse still there? And that bridge we built?"

Riza had almost forgotten about that, terrible as it was to admit after all the time it had taken and splinters they had picked out of their hands. "I sold the house to a retired couple. I don't think they were the type to go exploring. Their grandchildren, perhaps, would have gone into the woods, but I don't think children would have torn anything down."

"Someday we'll go back and see. Maybe we'll even have kids of our own by then." He met her eyes again but she couldn't tell if he was serious about that last part. They had been kids themselves the last time either of them had considered it.

Frowning into her empty glass, Riza said, "I don't know if I want to go back. After everything that's happened, if everything's the same and we're not…" She trailed off but she knew Roy would understand. They had both changed so much since then. Neither of them laughed as easily and the happier parts of their history felt more like dreams than memories. Then again, with the nightmares that had plagued the both of them since Ishval, it was nice to have good dreams to look back on.

Roy reached out to take her hand beneath the table. "We still have time. Turning this country into a democracy isn't going to be a walk in the park, you know." There it was again: that sad expression she knew too well, although he at least managed to hold her gaze this time. The pain, the regret in his dark eyes broke her heart even though she knew they were mirrored in her own expression. Tonight, at least, she would be able to stay with him and whether that meant falling asleep in his bed or talking him through the night, it was better than the uncertainty of a long night in her apartment with only Hayate for company.

"We'll plan a trip then," she promised. It was only June; maybe they could even make it before the end of the summer. They could go fishing for old times' sake. Something simple and monotonous to take their minds off of an uncertain future.

Roy leaned his elbow on the table, resting his chin on his fist. With the other, he clutched Riza's hand tighter, caressing the back of it with his thumb. She supposed that, since he was the Fuhrer now, no one could get mad at him for showing affection towards her, and he could override any action taken against her. She started to open her mouth but Roy spoke first: "Dance with me?"

"With pleasure." Riza allowed him to help her to her feet and escort her down the walkway toward the mansion. When they found a place near the string quartet with enough room for them to dance among the rapidly swelling crowd, Roy put a hand on her waist and pulled her close.

"At least I won't have to worry about this kind of thing anymore," he said, jerking his head to indicate the other dancing couples. "I'll be able to dance with you as much as I want without playing it off as a courtesy."

Riza raised an eyebrow. "Keep your friends close and your bodyguard closer?" she teased.

"Something like that." Even though he had laughed at her remark, Riza couldn't help but think there was something else on his mind. "You look lovely tonight," he said before she could ask what was troubling him.

"Thank you," she said. "And you look very handsome." He hadn't changed since the inauguration but she hadn't had a chance to compliment him all day. She'd been too busy making sure he stayed alive.

He grinned. "That dress—is it new?"

"It is. Rebecca refused to let me wear an old one on a night like this." As much as she hated being frivolous, she decided it had been worth it this time even if she would have preferred something that wasn't cut quite so low. At least Roy had the decency to keep his attention on her face, though she had seen him sneak a glance at her chest during dinner.

Pulling her closer, Roy leaned down until his lips were less than an inch from her ear. "The color suits you," he said. His warm breath made her shiver and she bit her lip. This wasn't the time or the place for her to act on the desire that swept through her. That would have to come later, after everyone else had gone home. Roy tightened his grip on her waist, which was no help at all.

"I thought you might like it, Sir," she said in an attempt to steer the conversation into safer territory. The formality caught him off guard. He missed a step in the dance, treading on Riza's foot instead of the ground.

After a few more steps, he found the rhythm again. "You really ought to wear red more often."

"Unless you have plans to change the color of my uniform, I'm afraid I won't be," she said. Whatever he might have been implying—and she wasn't sure she wanted to know what that was—she didn't want to discuss it when other couples danced within earshot.

"Somehow I don't think that'd go over well," he said. "Might be worth a shot though."

Riza laughed lightly. "Sounds like an interesting proposal for your second day, if not one I would recommend."

The song ended but they continued to hold each other while they waited for the next one to start. As the lights came on one by one in the dusk, Riza looked up at his slicked back hair and noticed something she hadn't before.

"I think you're starting to go grey," she said, reaching up to pluck the offending strand. She held it out for him to see and he blew it away.

"For luck," he explained when he noticed her confusion.

She placed her hand on his arm again. "You're thinking of eyelashes."

"Does that mean my wish won't come true?"

Laughing, Riza shook her head. Apart from the grey hair she had just found, there was little about Roy that suggested he had celebrated his fortieth birthday earlier that year. Maybe that was part of why she loved him: he kept the two of them young even though the sins of their past weighed on them more with each passing year. "What did you wish for?" she asked.

"I can't tell you," he said, eyes glinting mischievously.

Riza rested her chin on his shoulder, staring at the purple horizon; it seemed her exhaustion had finally caught up with her. A few lonely stars had appeared overhead and something about the sight made her heart ache a bit. Perhaps it was because she was lonely too. Even though she found comfort in Roy's arms, the crowd put a wedge between them—sirs and surnames and the fear that every touch would draw unwanted attention. But with one of Roy's hands in hers and the other pressed gently against her waist, his thumb gently caressing her through the fabric of her dress, she forced herself to focus on him instead of the people who could have broken them apart already.

Feeling considerably less alone, Riza lifted her head and pulled back to meet his eyes. The affection with which he returned her gaze was too much and she almost had to look away again.

"Maybe we should go inside," Roy suggested, reading her hesitance perfectly. "I know you hate crowds."

She nodded. "Thanks for understanding."

Roy slipped his arm through hers and escorted her through the doors. A few people milled about the entry hall but no one commented as they passed. They stopped in the kitchen, each taking another glass of champagne before heading for a more secluded part of the mansion. There was nobody upstairs, apart from Rebecca and Jean, but they were still at their posts and not likely to leave any time soon.

At first, Riza thought Roy was leading her to his bedroom, but the door he opened led to an impressive library. Of course. Even he knew they wouldn't have time to make themselves presentable again if their hands started to wander in the dark. And this room was more conducive to sitting and talking than the kinds of activities that could get them in trouble.

The door clicked shut behind them and Roy pulled her into a close embrace. She returned it gladly, burying her face in his neck. "We made it, Riza," he said, ruffling her hair with his breath.

It felt so, so good to hear her name and she hugged him tighter. They swayed on the spot, still wrapped in each other's arms as they said without words everything they had wanted to tell each other all day. When they broke apart, it was only so Roy could tilt Riza's chin up to give her a gentle kiss. She nearly warned him about her lipstick but most of it had probably come off on the champagne glass she had left on the hall table.

When the kiss ended, Roy looked down at her through half-open eyes. She knew that look all too well.

"Later," she said, giving him a gentle peck on the cheek. "We'll be alone soon enough."

They settled on one of the room's couches and Riza kicked off her shoes. She curled and uncurled her toes, reaching down to massage her sore feet.

"I can do that," Roy offered.

Riza shifted to lie back on the couch, resting her feet in Roy's lap. As soon as he started rubbing them, her feet started to feel better. For the first time since the beginning of the gala, she didn't regret her decision to wear heels. She closed her eyes as a sigh of pleasure escaped her. In response, Roy tickled the arch of her foot. She had never thought of herself as ticklish; leave it to Roy to find a sensitive spot and take advantage of it. When she opened her eyes in shock, he gave her a cocky grin.

"Looks like you are ticklish after all," he said.

"Not half as ticklish as you," she shot back.

"You're not really in the position to tickle me now, are you?" He tickled her foot again before running his hands up her ankle. The slit in her dress granted him easy access to her leg so he continued massaging all the way up her calf.

Damned if she didn't want him to keep going, but her sense of duty refused to let him continue past her knee. She wrapped her fingers gently around his wrist. "Stop," she said. "I already said not yet."

"I'm sorry," he said. He shifted her skirt back into place before moving his hands back to her feet.

"We should go," she said after several minutes' silence, even though she longed to stay here to enjoy peace and quiet and Roy's strong hands over the rest of her body, not just her feet.

Hand in hand, they left the library for the master bedroom. Riza caught Roy looking longingly at the bed, though she wasn't entirely sure that wasn't just an innocent desire to sleep after the day he'd had. Unlike her, he hadn't had the chance to take a nap. They opened the doors to the balcony and stepped outside. They leaned against the railing to watch the fireworks and Roy released her hand to wrap his arm around her shoulders instead. He drew her close and she cuddled against him as bursts of green and silver lit the night. He gripped her tighter, absentmindedly stroking the bare skin of her arm with his thumb. Slipping an arm around his waist, she leaned her head against his shoulder. She sighed contentedly even though she couldn't shake the pit in her stomach. Fireworks always sounded too much like gunshots for her liking. She could feel her fingers flex around an imaginary trigger with each one.

As the finale approached, Roy shifted and she turned so they faced each other instead of the fireworks. He took both of her hands and smiled. As he spoke, she heard another firework launch. "Riza, can I ask you some—"

Roy stopped in midsentence and stumbled forward into her. The world slipped into slow motion as she realized that hadn't been a firework at all. Riza caught Roy and they sank to the ground together. As she held him against her chest, her hands became sticky with his blood. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw someone dash across the roof and disappear. She screamed for help, hoping Rebecca or Jean would hear, but she was a sniper too, and even though this bastard was nowhere near her league, she could tell if a wound would be fatal or not. That was her job, after all.

"Roy, Roy, stay with me," she pleaded, even though experience told her it was futile. "Roy, please, what were you going to ask me?"

He gave a watery laugh. "It's too late," he wheezed. The blood was already starting to fill his lungs. _Oh god, Roy. _A million times, she'd thought she'd lost him but he'd always, always been there. He'd always been fine. _Oh please if there is a god out there, let him be fine tonight. It's not fair. It's not fucking fair._ Tears sprang to her eyes and he struggled to reach for something in his pocket. She pushed his hand aside and removed a small box. There was no need to open it. She already knew what was inside.

It was all clear now: his wish, his talk about their future—the tears came in earnest as she remembered her promise that they would spend the night together. _It would have been our engagement night. _

"Yes," she said. "Yes, I'll marry you, Roy, just stay with me, you hear? _Stay with me._"

"I don't think you're supposed to give orders to your commanding—" He coughed and blood pooled in his mouth but he didn't spit it out. Probably because he didn't want to ruin her dress. _Idiot._

"I'm your fiancée now," she corrected. "And you're going to listen to me. We're going home, ok? The doctors will fix you up and we'll go back and we'll fish in the river and we'll take our children to the treehouse. We're going to have the most beautiful children."

"I thought you didn't want children after what we've done," he said. His voice was almost impossible to hear now, but at least someone had had the sense to stop the fireworks. Rebecca must have heard her screaming and run for help.

"Forget what I said before. Everything you want, we'll do it. We'll have as many children as you want and they'll grow up happy in the world in the world we create together." Still supporting him with one arm, she twined her fingers through his. "But you have to stay alive until the doctors get here. I know Knox and Marcoh are here tonight they'll be upstairs in a flash. Rebecca just has to find them."

"Riza," he said. He tried to squeeze her hand but he was weak, he was so weak it felt almost like a spasm. "Riza, I love you."

"I love you, too, and I'm going to marry you, Roy Mustang. I'll be your first lady and we'll grow old together." She bent down to kiss his forehead as he started to convulse. He didn't have much time left; unless Marcoh had another philosopher's stone on him, there would be no saving Roy now and she knew it, but there was no way in hell she would admit that.

"I—" Roy tried to speak one last time, but whatever it was he had planned to say, she would never know. His hand went limp and his body was suddenly much heavier. His eyes turned glassy and she lowered him to the ground before closing them gently. Still, she couldn't leave his side. She knelt beside the body of the man she loved and fell forward onto his chest, sobbing. This couldn't be real, it just couldn't. After everything they had been through to get here, there was only one thing left to do and now he wasn't here to do it.

This wasn't fair at all. He had been so close to finishing, so close to accomplishing their shared dream and now he had drowned in his own blood while she was powerless to save him. How many times had she reminded him that water made him useless and this time—this time, she had been the useless one. If only she had noticed. She should have posted someone on the roof. _She _should have been on the roof. And goddammit, at the very least, it should have been her that had died. She should have stood on Roy's other side; she should have realized what he was going to ask and made him get down on one knee. Anything to have stopped this.

She heard someone running toward her and looked up to see Rebecca, Jean, and Maroch all standing beside her.

"Is he…gone?" Jean asked in an unsteady voice.

Riza nodded. "Whoever did this…"

"We caught him," Rebecca said, bending down to place a gentle hand on Riza's back. "He's been taken in for questioning. Riza, I'm sorry."

"It's all my fault," Jean said, kneeling on Roy's other side. He looked at Riza pleadingly and she supposed it was forgiveness he wanted. "Rebecca told me I should be on the roof, but I said I'd sweep the building to make sure no one got up there."

Riza nodded. A lump had formed in her throat from holding back her tears and it was too big for her to talk.

"Would you like us to leave you with him for a little longer?" Rebecca asked.

Riza nodded again and they left. Ten years ago, Roy had asked her what she would do once he was dead. The choice had been simple then. The court martial for murdering her commanding officer would have been a death sentence, and carrying it out herself would have been easier than waiting. And even if they had let her off, the prospect of living out the rest of her life without the hope of seeing the country become a democracy had been unbearable. And with the mark on her back, even though Roy had burned off crucial parts, she would always be a target. But now, with no named successor, the title of Fuhrer might pass back to Grumman, and if she could convince him to name her as Roy's replacement, she could fulfill their dream. It wouldn't be easy without him—god, it would be so hard without him—but at least she had Rebecca and Jean and the rest of their friends. They would help her do what needed to be done, and then, she would stand trial and she would finally be free. But until then, she would miss him with every beat of her heart. She knew that from losing her mother and the world felt even emptier now than it had then.

Taking a long, shuddering breath, she looked up at the starry sky, the same sky they had cuddled under together in another lifetime, before the war and the promised day and tonight—the worst night of her life, because he wasn't there to help her through it. And no matter what Jean said, it was her fault and hers alone. All her choices had been. She had told Roy as much when she stood in his office that first time, moments before she had promised to follow him into hell.

Riza wasn't sure she believed in hell any more than in the stories of the heroes and lovers in the sky that she had described to Roy as she pointed out constellations, but as sobs wracked her body once more, she could almost see him again, reaching out his hand to guide her home, to the creek and the apple tree, and the big house that had been so lonely until he had come along. And she didn't know how many years it would take, or even if she really would see him again, but she swore to him that she would see his dream through to the end. And maybe, just maybe, she would find herself following him to heaven instead.


End file.
