She followed him out into the hall and into the main building of Eastern HQ, silently fuming to herself at how unusually silent the walk was.  Their walks across HQ used to be a time to decompress or prepare together, just the two of them. He never made jokes anymore. He never winked, laughed cheekily, slyly said things that he knew would make her lips quirk but her eyes roll in annoyance. He never complained about whoever he had to meet, never made fun of them after the meetings. He wasn't himself. He was just… professional, and so distant.  Sometimes she caught him looking at her from across the office - a mixture of wistfulness and uncertainty clouding his eyes, clearly afflicted, before he realized she was looking at him and smoothed his features back into an unreadable mask.  ‘We need to remain professional.’ Her own voice echoed back at her mockingly in her mind. This was not what she meant - she had wanted their bond to remain strong, unchanged. Perhaps that had been too much to hope for. There had been a bundle of pressure, heavy and painful like a rock sitting in her chest, right where her heart was, ever since she'd walked into work the next morning and he'd been like this - cold and distant and as though she hadn't known him since he was fourteen. A part of her wondered if she'd done the wrong thing that night, but she hadn't - it was her job to protect him, even from doing stupid things. Even if those things had to do with her. She'd thought if she gave him some time, let him lick his wounds and reevaluate, then he'd return to some semblance of normal, that their bond wouldn't suffer. But he hadn't, and it had been over three weeks now. Three dreadfully long weeks.  While they still worked well together, their natural cohesiveness was stilted and awkward now. She hated it, and she missed the way things were before.  It was nearly as bad as when Bradley had transferred her, except she was constantly in the same office as him, and yet a million miles were between them. 

"If someone sees, then I'd offer to burn their eyeballs out," He murmured in her ear, the corner of his lip upturned in a crooked smile. “But that'll create so much paperwork. Any other ideas?”  He was clearly joking, and trying to distract her. His words were so utterly absurd that Riza laughed weakly in surprise, which came out as nothing more than a hitching hiccup in her current state. She relaxed further in his embrace, feeling the responding, rumbling chuckle in his chest.  He was so warm, pliant but firm against her, and so comforting. His hand was stroking along the bare skin of the back of her neck, from the ends of her short hair and down her spine over her t-shirt, his touch light but soothing. She wasn't even sure if he was aware he was doing it, but fuck if it wasn't the most comforting gesture she'd ever felt in her entire life. When was the last time someone had comforted her like this? The memories were foggy, likely stemming far back from childhood when her mother was still alive.  She'd been so accustomed to self-soothing that she'd forgotten how good it felt, to be wrapped in someone else's arms, to lean on someone else. To not be in control, for once.

The train had barely been chugging along for all of ten minutes before Mustang had passed out cold, scrunched in what looked like an extremely uncomfortable position. Riza didn't bother to wake him, however - he looked like he needed the rest. Besides, the amount of time she'd found him in the archives at HQ, asleep on the floor with a book over his face, proved he could sleep comfortably in the most bizarre positions and locations. She wondered if his body would start complaining more now that he was over thirty. Her own body was sore from sleeping on the floor last night.  She took out the latest novel she'd been reading, but couldn't keep her attention focused on it. With Fuery occupied by his own reading material, she took a moment to observe Mustang closely.  His eyes had dark circles around them due to his lack of sleep - they were a deep purple, a collection of nearly sleepless nights; not just from last night, but from the last few hectic weeks of preparation for Ishval.  His face looked fuller though, healthier than this time last year - he’d clearly been eating better. He’d been so thin in the hospital following the Promised Day that Hawkeye had been rather concerned - she’d wondered if he’d eaten a square meal at all during the months she’d been under Bradley. The rare times she’d passed by him in the halls of Central HQ while she had been trapped under Bradley's thumb had worried her - he'd looked so thin and tired, frazzled beyond belief. She couldn't do anything for him at the time, and her guilt and anxiety had weighed heavily on her.  She caught sight of his hands folded in his lab, lingering on the large, pale pink, healed scars intersecting each of his palms. His hands had healed well after his surgeries to repair the damaged tendons - he'd initially had some trouble grasping things, but through repeated physical therapy exercises his hands had strengthened. Only very occasionally did she see one tremble rebelliously. He never spoke of whether they still hurt him or not.  Her eyes traveled upwards, taking in his messy, dark hair, long lashes and strong jaw, his lips parted slightly in sleep, and something inside her shivered. A part of her was aware, as she always had for years, how handsome he was. She was often able to tune those thoughts out, until it was basically static in the back of her mind. She didn't allow herself to think of it often, but there was something about the soft morning light shining in through the train window on his relaxed, sleeping face that made her pause.

She adjusted the grip he had on the knife gently with her fingers, sliding his hand further up the handle, closer to the blade. She had to get quite close to him in order to do so, and her side brushed against his.  “Like that.” She instructed quietly. His hand was warm, pliant under her touch. “It'll make your chopping easier to control.”  “Sure.” He sounded slightly dazed, for some reason.  “We also wouldn’t want you to lose a finger.” She teased. “You might need those, after all.”  “True.” He agreed, his voice dipping lower, huskier than usual. “Thanks, Hawkeye. You're always protecting me from myself.” She caught his gaze, and was drawn in like a moth to a flame, unable to pull away. His dark eyes were warm, gentle, but molten - as though he'd like nothing better than for her to be even closer.  What scared her was that she wanted to be, too. 

Riza wasn't listening, though, the conversation tuned out in the background. Mustang was still smiling slightly at her, eyes warm but tired from the week they'd had, soft around the edges.  She found it difficult to look away.  Perhaps, if she looked a little harder and a little longer into his eyes, she could still see the warm adoration he held for her, that lingered in his expression in soft moments like these.  She refused to look that hard, however. She couldn't - it was too painful.  Forcing herself to tear her gaze away, she turned her attention back to the fire and the other men’s conversation, forcing a bemused smile and shaking her head, like she'd been paying attention all along. She could still feel Mustang's eyes on her, sending a shiver of awareness down her spine.  As she sat there, dually shrouded in the comforting heat of the flickering fire and Mustang's scent, his shirt still warm from his body, her team telling jokes and laughing around her, she felt herself relax. It felt like old times a little, back in East City before Hughes had died and her Colonel had become obsessed with catching his killer. She felt a sense of belonging again, a sense of community amongst their team, now that they were all back together, working towards an important goal.   It was nice, she reflected. Her team was one of the only times where she had felt such a sense of belonging. She'd never really felt like she'd belonged anywhere - certainly not in her father’s house, or in the small town she grew up in, nor in the military academy, especially after the war. But she knew without a doubt that she belonged here, with her team.

Summary: Riza and her team are preparing to rebuild Ishval. As she grapples with her strained relationship with Mustang, she’s simultaneously struggling to ignore her impossible feelings for him, and her past traumatic memories coming back to haunt her. Riza is finding the return to Ishval even more challenging than she had expected. A post-canon, Royai slowburn, Riza-centric character study for the Royai Big Bang 2024. COMPLETE, and posted in its entirety on October 3rd. :)