Chapter 17: Riza Hawkeye III

If she had to smile for any more pictures, Riza Hawkeye was going to shoot someone.

Getting the Ishvalan Accords passed in Parliament required good publicity, but that didn't mean she had to enjoy it.

The only person who looked more uncomfortable than Riza was Grand Cleric Heridas, though he had a better excuse than just a sheer distaste for politicians and publicity. The official story of the Accords would not include the minor detail that a key member of the Ishvalan delegation was the alchemist killer, Scar (for obvious reasons), so Heridas remained hidden in the back of the photographs with enough shadows to keep his x-shaped discoloration undetected by the camera. It was risky, but he'd done more to ensure the reconstruction of Ishval than the random assortment of Amestrian officials that the Fuhrer had brought in, who were tasked with the extremely laborious job of pretending they'd done something of value.

(Riza really didn't like politicians.)

Of course, they didn't know the real truth about Scar either. They'd been fed the tale that "Scar" had never been guilty at all; rather, he was an undercover Amestrian agent, working as a ploy to lure out the "real" killer. Although it sounded far-fetched to Riza's ears, Miles had been sure that they'd accept it easily.

"It's the story they want to hear," Miles had said. "They won't ask any questions, because they'll be so pleased that they were important enough to be trusted with the 'truth.'"

But, not surprisingly, Heridas hadn't been pleased by this development.

"I'm not a liar," he'd hissed at Miles.

"I'm not saying you are, but-"

"I'm not some dancing puppet on the Amestrian government's strings!"

The only person who'd been able to talk him down was Elder Shan, who'd been smart enough to wait until Heridas had finished ranting to speak.

"The truth always prevails," she'd said, "but this world is not ready for such shades of gray. One day, maybe when we're all long dead, someone will put the pieces together. That Grand Cleric Heridas, a man instrumental in the Ishvalan Accords, is the same man as the alchemist killer, Scar. And on that day, the world will realize that the story is much more complicated than it seemed. That, as much as we want to divide the world into good and evil, the world defies simplicity. Humanity defies simplicity. This is important to remember, but our world of today, a world still raw with the recent pain of the War, cannot understand that complexity. Not yet."

Heridas had grumbled but complied.

Between Claudia Summers trying to poke her nose into every story she could sniff out and the Amestrian officials grumbling that the military had been given too much leeway in the Accords, Riza was relieved that the ordeal was nearly finished. She was looking forward to receiving an excited greeting from Black Hayate, sleeping in her own bed, and falling back into her old routines.

"It's really over," Havoc said, stretching out his knees with an ominous cracking noise, as Mustang's unit assembled for the last time in Mustang's room. With the final treaty signed that morning, they would have one free day before the train left first thing on Friday.

"Not really," Mustang said. "The treaty still has to pass through the Parliament. And then it has to be accepted by the Amestrian and Ishvalan publics."

"And then the real work begins," Hawkeye said, tilting her head. "Don't forget that all of these plans we're making have to be carried out. The Ishvalan councils have to be formed and the communication network has to be assembled and-"

"Argh! Don't make me think about it yet, sir!" Havoc said, covering his ears with his hands.

"Things aren't all bad though," Breda said, glancing back at Mustang. "You're out of your wheelchair, boss. Isn't that something?"

"Compared with the Ishvalan Accords, my own injury-" Mustang began, but Breda rolled his eyes and Hawkeye ignored him, because Mustang's tentative clean bill of health had been something of a miracle and listening to him discount it made Riza want to pistol-whip him. He still wore bandages beneath his clothing, and he'd need to be examined upon their return to Central, but the doctor was optimistic that Mustang would be completely recovered over the next few months.

A miracle, it certainly was. Regardless of whatever nonsense Mustang spouted.

For the first time since the Amestrians had arrived, there weren't meetings or photo sessions to attend, so given the nature of their free day, they'd switched to non-military dress, and even Riza could admit that it was liberating to be free of her uniform's symbolic confines, if only for their quiet day in Kedesh.

But a quiet day they wouldn't get, because while they nibbled on breakfast, Mustang didn't take a bite. Considering he usually had the appetite of a small country, Riza knew that something was wrong.

And she found out a few minutes later, when Mustang turned towards the Elrics, took a deep breath, and asked, "Would you allow me to visit the Zikkaron? And pay my respects to your family." Edward choked on his breakfast, but Mustang pressed forward. "I understand why this would be highly disrespectful and unlawful and a horrible idea-"

"Sure," Alphonse said, and Edward kicked him under the table. "What?"

"If you don't want us to go, I completely understand," Mustang said.

"No," Edward said with a grimace, as though his words even surprised himself. "You just surprised me, that's all. You do know that our mikdash, our family's monument, is gone though, right? There's nothing but dirt and sand left."

"I know," Mustang said. "But if you'll allow me, I'd like to… pay my respects."

"I think all of us would," Hawkeye said, gesturing around to Havoc and Breda, who both nodded vigorously.

Heridas, in typical fashion, was eavesdropping, and as soon as the Elric brothers acquiesced, he insisted on accompanying them. Major Miles nodded, and suddenly that meant that he was joining as well.

Elder Vikram, who'd spluttered on and on about how horribly rude it was, got roped into joining too, thanks to Elder Shan.

And as soon as Abra overheard their plans, she leaned over the countertop, "I know you were planning on inviting me, weren't you?"

What had been an intimate group just a few minutes before had ballooned into the majority of the Ishvalan Accords delegation.

And before they left, Edward bolted upstairs, promising he'd be right back. Which he was, but he'd returned with the last member of the delegation, Ariyn Fitzgerald.

She'd been asleep when Riza had left their room an hour ago, and from her groggy gait and unkempt hair, she'd apparently awoken only a few minutes prior. She rubbed her eyes and stifled a yawn, before grabbing a pastry from the side table.

The delegation gawked at Ariyn's presence, but no one said anything. Alphonse just furrowed his brows towards his brother, and Edward just shrugged.

"What are we waiting for?" Ariyn asked, seemingly unaware of the mass scrutiny.

"No one," Elder Shan said, hobbling towards the door. "Let's go."

"We'll be going to the market first to get flowers," Abra informed the Amestrians.

"Is that traditional?" Hawkeye asked.

"Extremely," Abra said. "Ishvalans never memorialize the dead without flowers. It's just not done."

"It's also frowned upon to allow other Ishvalans inside the Zikkaron, never mind Amestrians," Elder Vikram said, scurrying alongside the group. "It's disrespectful."

"If you don't want to come inside, you don't have to," Elder Shan said. "But if you must know, I think it's absurd that we shouldn't visit an Ishvalan memorial just because we are not members of an ancient line. In my eyes, forgetting the dead is more disrespectful."

"It's not the way things are done!"

"Who is left to remember these families, Vikram? Their numbers are dwindling and unless you want all of those teachings to be lost, we have to be willing to make a few changes. Would you rather cling to the old ways and die out, or progress and endure?"

Elder Vikram muttered to himself but kept pace.

"I couldn't agree more," Edward said, leaning slightly into Winry as he spoke. "The Zikkaron is a historical landmark, not some forbidden shrine. Especially 'cause I haven't heard of any other ancient families since I got here. Do you know if there are others left?"

"I've heard nothing more than rumors," Elder Shan said. When Edward sighed, she patted him on the back. "Don't be impatient. It's just the beginning of this next chapter of Ishval. You never know what's in store."

As they pressed further into Kedesh and into the market, it became too difficult to have any conversation, their whole focus dedicated to ducking and avoiding and squeezing between people. Elder Shan avoided the crowds easily, even with her hunched back and cane.

"Over here!" Edward shouted, and they were able to follow his voice towards a crooked flower stand, cobbled together from mismatching wooden segments. Manning the booth was a grinning Madam Jayanti, her wide smile showcasing her missing teeth.

"The most beautiful flowers in all of Kedesh," Edward said, and Jayanti leaned over the stall to sweep him, Alphonse, and Winry into a tight embrace.

And then Edward and Madam Jayanti began haggling on the price of their exchange. Well, that was what Hawkeye had first assumed. The dialogue was entirely in Ishvalan, so it was impossible to tell. Though Riza began suspecting that they weren't exactly haggling when Madam Jayanti refused to accept the money Edward was pressing into her hands.

Eventually, Edward gave in and pocketed the money, and Madam Jayanti pointed at the farthest basket. Unlike the multi-colored bouquets surrounding them, that basket only held flowers as white as the wispy clouds above them.

"You can each take one," Edward said.

"We can pay-" Mustang began.

"Trust me," Edward said, shaking his head. "Do NOT get her started again."

"These are Kemeli flowers," Elder Shan supplied as she plucked the topmost one from the basket. "They represent mourning."

The Kemeli flower felt heavy in Riza's hand, and yet she feared that its delicate petals would fly away in the faintest wind. All chatter among the group had silenced, and as they arrived at the gates of the Zikkaron, Edward spun back towards them.

"You can cover your head if you want," he said. He and the other Ishvalans had already done so, and Winry and Alphonse immediately followed. Major Miles paused, and then slid a cap over his hair.

"Why?" Breda asked, though he was already making effort to cover his head as well.

"It's about respect for the dead," Heridas said. "That's the short answer. Do you want to hear the longer one?"

Breda nodded, and while Heridas explained the symbolic relationship between the top of someone's head, piety, and everyone's eventual mortality, Riza loosened the scarf around her neck and threw it atop her hair, fastening it behind her neck.

Heridas's answer was extremely detailed, so he continued lecturing as they entered through the gates and strode through the Zikkaron itself. Hawkeye felt more nervous than she expected, though she didn't quite know what she feared. It wasn't as though apparitions of Edward's family would appear and condemn the murderers among them, but as she passed each monument, she wondered if she'd killed anyone from those families. And given Mustang's grimace beside her, he felt the weight of his sins too.

When Edward stopped, the rest of the group fell in line behind him, gathering around a patch of sand, smooth and empty. The rubble had been cleared, as had Gustav's graffiti.

No one said anything.

Edward carefully placed his flower onto the ground, his shoulders trembling. Alphonse and Winry stepped beside Edward and together they led the group through the traditional greeting.

"First, three steps forward," Edward said slowly, and everyone obeyed his instructions. Although the Ishvalans were surely familiar with the remembrances for the dead, they completed it in sync with the Amestrians. "Two steps back."

Riza had trouble imagining the brothers in a large family setting. For as long as she'd known them, they'd isolated themselves, choosing to rely only on each other, and yet, Edward and Alphonse had once just been another set of Vaidya siblings.

"One step forward."

Riza pictured the Vaidya family as loud and boisterous, so different from the solemn household where she'd been raised. She imagined that they'd constantly interfere with everyone else's business, but if any of them were threatened, they'd protect their own with fierce loyalty. A few probably had Edward's temper, but didn't Al's sweet demeanor have to come from somewhere too?

"Bow."

Riza had no right to be here, to pray for lives she would have taken had she been given the chance.

"Now the same in reverse, so three steps backward."

She followed his words in a haze, and when he concluded with a small explanation about how the movements symbolized infinity, she barely heard it. Edward and Alphonse's family would never know the brave, kind, compassionate, loyal, thoughtful men that they'd become. How they'd saved the world and risked everything for the good of Amestris. It was an obscene cruelty that Riza would come to know the Elrics better than their own family.

Edward and Alphonse kneeled before the empty plot and then rose together.

"We'll be outside," Alphonse said. "Take your time."

And then they were gone.

Winry kneeled first, placing her flower atop the Elrics' and bowing her head. This would be the family that she'd marry into, whenever that day came. Riza wondered whether they would have approved of her. Although it felt wrong to project her own opinions, Riza couldn't imagine anyone not liking Winry.

Winry didn't stay long, and the Ishvalans followed after. The Elders first, though they couldn't properly kneel, so they just bowed their heads and dropped their Kemeli flowers onto the ground, already creating a small mound of white against the sand.

Of the Ishvalans, Heridas spent the longest time in front of the plot, his neck pointed downward, his lips moving without sound.

And then only the Amestrians remained.

Ariyn stepped forward first, laying her flower down, pausing for a moment's reflection, and then slipping away.

Then Havoc, and then Breda, and finally, it was just Mustang and Riza left. They kneeled in front of the empty patch of sand together, their knees sinking into the hole left by the others' weight.

"I could do this for decades and still not make a dent in the families I killed, the children I killed," Mustang said, his voice monotone. "I have no right to be here- I could have killed them."

"Maybe Edward is right," Hawkeye said. "Maybe there are questions you don't want the answers to."

"There's a difference between wanting and needing," Mustang said, before shaking his head. "But maybe he's right, maybe it doesn't matter. I killed people like them, and if I'd have crossed paths with them, I would have killed them."

"We were allowed inside the Zikkaron out of Edward and Alphonse's generosity," Hawkeye said firmly. "Please don't make it all about you, sir."

It was a hypocritical thing to say, and they both knew it.

"It's not raining today," he said.

"We're in Ishval, sir. Of course it's not raining."

"When I stood in front of Maes' grave, it rained, but there's no rain today. What does that say about me?"

"You don't know them," she said, despite her own insecurities over the same question. "They're faceless to you. Kill one man and hold his face forever. Kill countless and they disappear." She draped her hand over his shoulder. "It's okay that you mourned for Hughes."

Riza rose and helped Mustang do the same. (He needed the assistance due to his bullet wound, though he wouldn't have asked for it.) They shared one last moment in front of the Vaidya plot, before dropping their flowers onto the heap. Even if they were just flowers, it felt good to leave the empty sand full of life somehow.

They meandered back through the Zikkaron, passing gaudy displays of longevity, and yet all Riza could think of was the inevitability of finality, the inevitability of mortality.

"Roy, if you could do it all again, would you join the military? Because… if we feel all of this regret, does it mean anything if we'd do it all over again?"

Mustang stopped walking, his dark eyes steely, "You know that I hate dealing in 'what ifs,' but do you know why?"

Riza shook her head.

"Because if I could go back and do it all again, I would change everything. When I look back, I know why I made the decisions I did, and they always felt like the right ones at the time: join the military to help people, serve in Ishval because it was my duty, kill because the alternative was be killed, rise up the ranks of the military to protect the people I cared about. But nothing turned out like how I'd planned. I was a naïve fool."

Mustang hesitated, and Riza stepped towards him.

"Your father was right," he said. "When I look back, the moment everything fell apart was the second that I left you and joined the military."

"Sir-"

"Maybe that's wrong of me to say," he said, diverting his eyes towards the sky. "We did save all of Amestris from Fuhrer Bradley and the homunculi, and after everything we've accomplished, I'm now a general- just a stone's throw from becoming Fuhrer. But if I could do it again, I'd leave Amestris to its own devices and… run away with you. Before I ever joined the military academy. If… um… if you would have had me, that is."

"Sir… Roy…"

Roy lowered his head and began strolling towards the main gate, walking for a few paces before realizing that Riza was still frozen.

"Riza?"

"You can't just say something like that and act nonchalant," she said, her voice level only from her many years of practiced self-control.

"I know," Mustang said, turning back to her. "But it's all hypothetical, which means I can be as selfish as I want to be. Because it's too late now, and that world… it's a world that can never be. You know that as well as I do, Riza."

"I do," she said. "But that's not what I meant and you know it. If you could do it all over again, would you really-"

"I'd choose you," he said, wringing his hands. "I know that it makes me weak, I know. I am weak. With a second chance I could save so many lives and-"

"Roy…"

"Please, don't give me that look, Riza. We both know that you've always been the stronger one."

He began marching towards the exit again with long strides, but as Riza ran to catch up, he slowed.

"For what it's worth, Roy, I've always chosen you."

"And do you regret that?" he asked, his shoulders visibly tensing.

"Roy…"

"I mean it, Riza. I want to know if you regret it. Following me all this time. Following me into the military, into Ishval."

The wind brushed the sand beneath their feet and echoed through the stone monuments, but it was a warm breeze, bringing no relief from the sweltering heat.

"That's not a yes or no question, Roy," she said. "I made the best choice I could have at the time. I didn't know anything of the world except for you. I didn't know what I was getting into, and once I got to Ishval, I just thought that if I got up each morning and did my duty, I'd go home and the horrors would finally be over. But I was a fool, and the horrors never leave you."

She didn't want to look at Mustang's reaction, and though their steps remained in time with each other, they'd both slowed.

"If I had to do it again," she said, "I wouldn't have followed you to war."

Mustang gulped.

"If you'd asked me that same question five years ago, I don't know if I would have said the same," she continued, her eyes finally finding his. "But now I know."

"So you do regret it."

"It's not that simple."

"Isn't it?" he asked, unable to hide the bite from his words.

"Roy, when I agreed to shoot you if you ever strayed from the right path, I meant it. I still mean it. But I strayed too. I did things…" She shook her head. "I destroyed lives, and… I destroyed myself to follow you and the ideals you promised me. If I could fix my mistakes, I wouldn't have ever strayed… ideally, we would never have strayed."

She didn't know why the honesty poured from her lips on that day. The Zikkaron was a holy place, and perhaps, this was her prayer. Roy had always been her salvation more than any deity, but it was just as deceitful to forget that he was as imperfect as she was.

"And, Roy, for what it's worth," she said, as the gate loomed ahead. An easy escape once she let the final truth fall into the empty air between them. "Even knowing everything I know now, if you had asked, I would have run away with you too."

Riza slipped through the gate before he could respond, and she immersed herself into the waiting crowd of Amestrians and Ishvalans. She felt heavy and guilty, after defiling that sacred place with her sins.

As they returned back to the inn, everyone separated, but Riza needed something to do with her hands to keep her errant thoughts away, so she fled to her room and packed up her meager belongings. But packing didn't take much time, so that distraction was fleeting.

She couldn't imagine being alone with her thoughts yet, so she decided to seek out Abra for some menial task. But that plan was abandoned when she found Mustang sitting in the lounge alone, nursing a glass of water.

"Hey Riza," he said.

"General," she said pointedly. "We're in public."

"There's no one around," he said with a soft smile. "Don't worry."

"You know I can't help it," she said, easing into the seat next to him.

For a moment, Riza feared that it would be awkward. After all, hadn't they just admitted that they'd have chosen to be lovers in another life? But as they'd always done, they fell into a natural conversation, reviewing a few of the newest developments from Central.

"Where are Havoc and Breda?" she asked when their discussion had lulled.

"They're at the market, buying odds and ends as gifts," he said with a shrug. "They're gonna be extorted out of their minds. You know…" He paused for dramatic effect. "I think Havoc's getting something for Rebecca Catalina."

"That's nice."

"Really? That's all I get," Mustang said, a shadow of a pout hovering on his lips. "But I thought that was the latest gossip."

"You're not a girl, Roy," she said, rolling her eyes. "I've had an inkling for months. And they've been making googly eyes at each other for even longer than that."

"She's a First Lieutenant now, isn't she?" Mustang asked, and Riza nodded.

"They fit well together."

"Yeah."

Havoc and Breda chose this moment to burst into the inn, armed with brightly colored packages. They fought for Riza and Mustang's attention, interrogating them over which one had bought the better gifts, probably for some stupid bet that they'd made. During the chaos, Riza and Mustang shared bemused smiles, but they played along.

At some point, they realized how late it was getting and the boys left to go pack, which left Riza alone.

But not for long. Not thirty seconds later, Abra skidded through the lounge, jumping over furniture and yelling over her shoulder, "Stir the big pot in the corner! I'll be right back!"

Riza didn't know what was going on, though she imagined it had something to do with Abra's young helper getting into mischief. So she followed her instructions until Abra returned red-faced.

"That boy will be the death of me," she said, throwing her hands on her hips. "So… you must be looking forward to going home then, aren't you?"

"I am," Riza said, before immediately backtracking, "not that you haven't been a wonderful host, of course."

"Don't worry," Abra said. "I understand. Home is… special."

"I live in an apartment complex," Riza said. "Nothing too exciting."

"I'm sure, dear," Abra said, handing Riza a tomato to dice. Hawkeye sliced through it with even strokes, the simple task a perfect distraction.

"It's a pity though," Abra said, "I got to see Edward and Winry uncover their true feelings for each other, but I never got to see you and your general get together."

Riza's hand slipped, and she nearly cut herself.

"Easy there," Abra said. "No need for that. I was just observing."

"General Mustang and I are just…" Hawkeye trailed off. They were just what? What could she say? Mustang had just confessed that if he could do it all again, he would have chosen her over his career. It was meaningless now, obviously. They'd committed too many atrocities and had gone too far on their path to righting them. The only reason he could confess something like that was because it was so impossible.

And yet, it was almost crueler to know what could have been. It was too easy to imagine a life waking up beside him every morning, their children still sleeping down the hall.

It was more painful to realize how close that reality could have been.

As much as she loved Rebecca, she couldn't talk to her about this. Rebecca had never understood Riza's complex relationship with Mustang, preferring to take Mustang's skirt-chasing idiot persona as face value.

Which was why Riza found herself spilling her thoughts to Abra. And when Riza finally finished, Abra put her spoon down, covered her pot with a misshapen lid, and gave Riza the biggest hug she could ever remember receiving.

"You poor thing," Abra said, rubbing circles into her back. Riza froze, before easing into the embrace and breathing in the spices deposited in Abra's hair.

By the time they separated, Abra's pot bubbled dangerously over its lid, but Abra didn't tend to it.

"Regret is the worst feeling in the world," Abra said. "You look back and wish you could have done things differently. You pour over your decisions and hope that something will change, but it never does. Regret is the present loathing of your past self, but it doesn't help you now."

Abra returned to her stew and ladled out a portion into a wooden bowl, before handing it to Riza.

"Eat it. You'll feel better."

Even though food was the last thing on her mind, Riza took a sip. The warmth spread from her throat to her toes instantly, and the spice lit up her mouth.

"Good, right?" Abra asked, and Riza nodded.

"Just listen to an old woman's words, all right? The horrible thing about regret is that it makes you feel like you ruined your chance. Something that was possible once is impossible now, because your thoughts are tinged with the way things could have been. But-"

"I think I know where you're going with this, and I don't really-"

"Just listen, okay?" Abra said, and Riza nodded, taking another spoonful of the stew. "I would give anything for more time with my late husband. He was… everything to me. He made me laugh, and even though I talked for hours, he'd always listen to everything." Abra leaned forward, and in the close proximity, Riza could see the glassy sheen clouding her red eyes. "He's been dead for many, many years, but I think of him often. He loved my cooking, you know. Would always say that food was the best medicine. So much of what I do, of who I am, was influenced by him."

Abra blinked rapidly, so Riza offered her a napkin to dry her eyes. But Abra just laughed it off.

"It's that time of year again, I'm afraid," she said, wiping an errant tear away with her finger. "My point is that I would give anything to have more time with him. To hear his laughter again or to hold his hand. Every moment that you spend with the people you love is precious. It's truly a gift. We are all better for having loved, and the world is better for having more love in it."

"I understand what you're saying, Madam, but we're not in a position-"

"All of those regrets you and your general spoke about, all of those regrets you just shared with me, in twenty years you'll look back and have those same regrets. You'll realize that there was nothing holding you back except for your own fears. You'll look back and wish you could have had more time together, but even then, you still won't do anything to translate your regret into action because by then it'll be 'too late.' Just like what you're saying now. There is no such thing as too late, Riza."

It was far more complicated than that. They had obligations now. To Ishval, to the Amestrian military, to their subordinates, to each other. Maybe they could have run off with each other once, but they couldn't anymore.

"I know you mean well, but you know that I can't- we can't-"

"I know nothing," Abra said, her signature smirk returning to her lips. "The only thing I know is the human heart. I was a matchmaker after all. Instead of looking back, just twist your perspective. Look forward: if you died tomorrow, what would your biggest regret be?" Abra returned to the stew, giving it a final few stirs. "I've said my piece. Do with it what you will."

And that was that.

All of the Amestrians were leaving tomorrow, except for Alphonse, Edward, and Winry, who weren't taking their train for a few more days. (Claudia Summers' article would likely create quite a stir in both Amestris and Ishval, so it would be best to have them lay low in the countryside for the next few weeks.)

The Fuhrer had agreed to officially pardon Edward for his "crime" of serving as an Ishvalan State Alchemist, so at least they didn't have to worry about a criminal investigation. Their last night passed quickly in their good spirits, and it was with little recollection of the food and festivities that they awoke, thanks mostly due to the extensive selection of alcohol Abra had provided.

So it was with little fanfare that the Amestrians carried their belongings to the waiting train. They were accompanied to the station by the remaining members of the delegation, and as Riza took her last glance towards the low Kedeshian skyline, she found herself looking forward to her next visit. (Even though she'd probably be digging sand out of her belongings for the next six months.)

"Will you remain in Kedesh?" Hawkeye asked Scar, as she slung her luggage over her shoulder.

"For the moment," he said. "But as Kedesh develops, I'd like to assist other Ishvalan cities, if I can."

"Take care of yourself, Cleric Heridas" she said.

Out of the corner of her eye she noticed Mustang whispering into Major Miles' ear.

"Calm down, Mustang!" Miles shouted, jumping back. "I was telling you the truth! General Armstrong doesn't want to become Fuhrer. Ignore everything she tells you." Miles squirmed. "Er, don't tell her I said any of this."

"My lips are sealed."

After a round of goodbyes, they boarded the train and much as they had on the way down, Riza, Mustang, Breda, and Havoc all sat together. The train was mostly empty so they could have each had their own compartment, but it was homier when it was the four of them.

"Damn, Fuery is gonna wish he'd come when he hears all of the stories," Havoc said, conspiratorially rubbing his hands together.

"You mean nearly getting killed by an ex-military man and bickering non-stop over the wording of a treaty?" Breda said, rolling his eyes. "I'm sure he'll be really jealous."

"That's 'cause you're not selling it well," Havoc said, waggling his eyebrows. "It's all about how you spin the story."

Claudia Summers dropped in a few minutes later, carrying a few questions about Edward, but they were all simple enough that Riza suspected that she only visited their cabin to flirt with Mustang. But her coy smiles and flagrant abuse of endearments didn't bother Riza.

Because it wasn't any of her business.

Riza decided that even if Abra was right about them, it didn't matter. She was too much of a coward to bring it up again with Mustang, and it wasn't worth risking their current relationship. She'd been fine for this many years; she was sure that after she put the Ishvalan Accords far enough behind her, even her fluttering heart would calm again.

The endless desert gave way to rolling grass, and finally to clustered buildings as they arrived in Central, but it didn't feel like it was really over until she returned to her apartment. She unlocked her front door and found a layer of dust, but underneath it, was her old life. Much like when she'd returned to Central after the Promised Day, she felt different, like she'd outgrown her old place, but she knew that discomfort would go away with time.

And it did.

Hawkeye fell back into her normal routine with practiced ease. The only memorable day was when Claudia's article about Edward was released, and their office was inundated with soldiers asking about its veracity.

"The Fullmetal Alchemist? Ishvalan? Couldn't be!"

"But this is in the Central Times. It's not a piece of trash like the Southern Courant."

"Ishvalan? But he's an alchemist?"

"He doesn't look very Ishvalan-"

"EVERYBODY OUT!" Hawkeye yelled, cocking her gun. The gossiping soldiers didn't need to be told twice and retreated with the small scraps of their dignity left.

"Nicely done!" Havoc said and fist pumped behind his desk.

Past the initial surprise of the article, she saw that Claudia's piece was doing what they'd wanted: opening the minds of Amestrians and putting a familiar, friendly face on the public image of Ishval. Hawkeye had read the article, of course, and she wasn't surprised to find it compelling, evocative, and well-written.

Mustang was sure to send Claudia the biggest bouquet he could find, though she'd been given an incredible story to start off with. Alongside the article was a black and white picture of Edward in his Ishvalan attire, and it made her feel old. Proud, obviously. But he looked so grown-up in the picture.

And soon, without her realizing it, the days turned into months.

Edward Elric had become an even bigger celebrity than he'd been as the Fullmetal Alchemist, and he'd done two follow-up interviews with Claudia Summers, both editions of the Central Times completely selling out. Edward and Winry were officially engaged now, though Riza didn't hear from Winry as often as she used to because they were still in Ishval. Winry had begun touring the northern Ishvalan countryside to provide automail assistance, and Alphonse had recently departed for Xing, vowing to return with an advanced knowledge of alkahestry. She didn't know much about the art of alkahestry, but when he'd visited Central before he'd left, he'd seemed really excited, saying that it could revolutionize Amestrian medicine.

On some days, Abra's words would echo in her mind, that there was no such thing as too late, and on those days, Riza's gaze would linger on Mustang, and she'd imagine the life that they'd never have. But luckily, she didn't have the time to dwell on it.

After they'd arrived back from Ishval, long nights at Central Command were typical for weeks, whittling through the piles of paperwork accrued over their long absence. So on one such night, after everyone in the office had gone home but Roy and Riza, they carried their respective paperwork to a common table, at least to come out from behind their desks.

They sat down next to each other and worked silently.

At least she was. Roy had dozed off again and was drooling onto his hand. Lovely. But she didn't have the heart to wake him up. He'd been working so tirelessly since they'd returned to Central that even she couldn't complain.

Sometime after midnight, he jumped up, his hands automatically reaching out for his gloves (which were back on his desk). His eyes darted around the room, his breathing heavy, but after a moment, he processed where he was and returned to his chair with a sigh.

"Bad dream, sir?" she said, not looking up from her paperwork.

"Don't need to call me sir- no one's here," he muttered, probably more out of habit than cognizance. His eyes were still unfocussed, lost in his dream.

"Bad dream, Roy?"

He nodded and poured himself a cup of coffee. She didn't ask about the dream, but when she'd nearly finished her workload for the night, she noticed that he hadn't made a dent in his. He sat unmoving, gripping his now cold cup of coffee.

"Roy?"

"I was in Ishval, and then Edward was there," he said, his voice shaking. "And I killed him. Burned him alive. I didn't even hesitate. I just followed orders and snapped my fingers."

"Roy…"

"And then Alphonse was there," Mustang said, suddenly swirling his coffee into a mini frenzy inside his cup. "And he tried to cradle the body but it just turned to ash, and then I killed him too. I can still smell it. I can still smell the charring of his flesh."

"It was just a dream, Roy," she said.

"But it's not! If they hadn't left Netanya, it would be reality!" His eyes flashed, and he slammed his fists onto the table, shaking the contents in his cup. "The man who did all of those horrible things in Ishval… is me. That's still who I am inside.

"There's no difference between General Mustang and the mass murderer in Ishval," Mustang whispered, bowing his head low. "I… I could do it again."

There was something about the nighttime that loosened lips, and it was only the late hour that could coax such a confession out of him.

"There's at least one difference I can think of," she said, and his eyes darted to hers. "You have me."

Mustang didn't say anything, but Riza didn't elaborate, returning to her work, knowing that he'd interrupt her if he wanted to continue.

Which he did only a few minutes later.

"Do I really have you?"

"If you go off the right path, I will shoot you." she said matter-of-factly. "You didn't have that before. I won't ever let you become that person again."

"That's not what I asked," he said, his voice small, and as he hunched over, he bore little resemblance to the façade that General Mustang always projected to the world. But it had never fooled her; she'd known him before he'd created that persona.

"Then, what are you asking?" she said. "You know I'd follow you into hell, Roy."

He'd never needed prompting before, so she knew that if he wanted to talk, he would. But he said nothing, and they returned to their work. Riza finished her stack quickly and grabbed about half of the remaining papers from Mustang's pile.

They finished around the same time, bleary-eyed and exhausted, but glad to be done. Filing all of it could wait until tomorrow, so they packed up and walked through the hallways of Central Command side by side. No one was around to see them break military protocol, though it didn't stop her from worrying.

"The Ishvalan Accords is getting put up to a vote in Parliament today," Mustang said, all evidence of his earlier nightmare hidden.

"I know, sir," she said. "It seems Representative Fitzgerald has gotten the necessary votes."

"Another step forward," Mustang said. "We did it. We actually did it."

Their shoes clicked on the tile floors, and a glimmer of sunrise peaked through the nearest window. This was hardly the first time she'd seen the sunrise begin at Central Command, but it meant that she'd only get a few hours of sleep before she'd have to return.

"Sir?"

"Yeah?"

"If you died tomorrow, what would you regret not doing?" she asked.

"Huh?"

Out of context, it didn't make much sense, so Riza explained how Abra had brought it up on their last day in Ishval and since then, it had been rattling around inside her brain.

"Hm," Mustang said. "That's a good question. What's yours, Riza?"

In an uncharacteristic move of poor planning, she hadn't expected to have the question turned around on her.

"Well, Abra told me about how much she loved her husband," Riza began, completely side-stepping the question, "and that she'd give anything to have more time with him. She said that every moment you spend with the people you love is precious and that there's no such thing as too late."

They stepped outside of Central Command, the brewing light too weak to pierce the darkness that still hung over Central.

"Abra urged me to spend time with the man I loved, because you can't take tomorrow for granted. It was amazing to me, because she looked at my life and didn't see all of the wasted yesterdays; she chose to see the possible tomorrows."

They were nearly upon the stoplight where they'd have to part ways to their respective apartments, but once they stepped onto the curb, neither moved. They both seemed to sense that the moment wasn't over yet.

"Riza? Did you meet someone? Are you quitting?" Mustang asked.

"What? No! I'm… I'm…" she trailed off and gathered her courage. "I'm confessing, dammit!"

She peaked a look at Mustang's face and was pleased to find him shell-shocked.

"C-c-confessing?" he asked.

"Look, I know," Riza said, letting her eyes wander his face freely, taking in every detail in case he threw her out after this. "I know. There's Ishval. And the military. And getting you to the top. Those are the most important things to both of us. I'm not forgetting about them, but Abra was right." Riza sighed. "If I died tomorrow and I never told you how I felt, I'd regret that forever. Maybe you already knew. Maybe we've always just ignored it because we thought it was impossible and wrong and that we shouldn't ever be happy. But… some things need to be said aloud, Roy."

Roy's eyes widened, but he didn't say anything.

"I know all of the reasons that we can't be together," Riza continued, "and they make sense logically. I know. What we've been accomplishing is far more important than the lives of two people who don't deserve happiness, but… from the moment I stood by your side and we watched the sun rise from my neighbor's hill underneath that aging oak tree, you've had my heart."

"Riza? Do you mean that?" he asked softly, taking a step towards her.

"I wouldn't lie to you," she said. "And I know it doesn't change anything, but-"

"But?" He closed the gap between them.

"But I had to say it," she said. "I can't stop thinking about it."

"I've been thinking too," he said. "I keep thinking back to the Zikkaron. The what ifs. When I look back-"

"Shut up, Roy," Riza said breathlessly. "We're looking forward now. Like the Ishvalan Accords." They were close enough that she could feel his chest rising and falling beneath his uniform.

"We don't deserve happiness, Riza," he said, his eyes glancing down to her lips. "But I think I've realized that it's not something you can choose."

"Choosing to be miserable isn't penance."

"We don't deserve this," he murmured.

"We don't."

But that didn't stop their lips from meeting.

The Ishvalan Accords passed the very next day in Parliament.

It wasn't over. They knew that the hardest work was still to come. Ishval was decimated by war, and its culture, land, and people all carried the battle scars. The ramifications would echo for generations, but somehow, it felt like a new chapter was beginning.

Ishval was being rebuilt one stone at a time. Winry and Edward were getting married. Alphonse was travelling through Xing. Havoc was getting ready to pop the question to Rebecca. And Riza…

There wasn't any more room in Riza's heart for regret. The things she'd done… the things that the military had done…

She'd always taken full responsibility for her part in the atrocities.

But there was no righteousness in self-hatred and no justice in self-flagellation. Her misery was no gift to the lives she'd destroyed. And the loathing that she'd cloaked herself in had done nothing but embitter her mind to the suffering of her fellow man.

Edward was right, not that she or Roy would admit it to his face. They had been pushing for a democracy for the wrong reasons, just because they needed to create a government that would grant them the punishment that they'd craved. Leading Ishval to its salvation had been nothing more than an accomplishment to check off on their march to "justice."

But Ishval was so much more.

When soldiers returned home from the Ishvalan War (herself included), they'd returned changed.

Ishval changes you, they'd said, and she'd ignored their words, because Ishval hadn't changed them; war had.

But she'd been wrong. Ishval, no matter why you went, did change you. It stripped away your barriers, revealing the lies you perpetuated to live with yourself.

Ishval was no longer just a stepping stone to fixing her mistakes but a diverse land of possibility and hope. Hope, even among the most downtrodden, was the most inspiring thing she could imagine.

Edward had it, Alphonse had it, Abra had it, and even Ishval itself seemed to ooze of it.

And maybe some of it had even rubbed off on Riza. She didn't know what lay in her future: with Roy or with Ishval, but she had the ability to hope that the next chapter of all of their lives would be better than what had come before.

A/N: Thank you so much to everyone who has followed, favorited, and reviewed this story!

So… will there be a sequel?

I'm going to say that I'm about 75% sure that I'll be writing a sequel. It won't be released for a while. I prefer to write the whole story before I post it, and I do want to focus on my own original content right now.

But I can give you a few sequel details: it'll be shorter than The Ishvalan Accords. I'm thinking 30-40k right now (though that was the original plan for this story, and you can see how that ended up). It'll also take place around 1-2 years after this story. I have a tentative outline in mind, but if there were any unanswered questions you had while reading this story, I'd love to hear them and see if maybe they could be incorporated into the sequel. I make no promises, but you never know!

And a super special thank you to those of you who my regular reviewers- you know who you are, and you're amazing!

Thanks to the reviewers of the last chapter: rebel100 (Here you are!), EndlessLivesandWorlds-Books (Here! Here is your Royai dream! Hehehe. And thanks for the review. I loved to see it), ScarletRoofs, Birchcrest, Shiloh Moon (I'm exactly the same in terms of romance stuff. All the lead up is great. The first kiss is aww, and then after that… where's the drama? The excitement? But I was lucky because both of my main couples were stubborn enough to not confess their feelings for a long time! And it's so true that the Ishvalan focus of the story all culminated in the last chapter. It was one of the first things I thought of for this story, and it doesn't all come out til the second to last chapter! That's a lot of faith that people will keep reading that long!), lilaclily00 (Thanks! I usually hate when authors just lift a scene right out of canon, but there was no way I would be able to do it any better. And I got to put my own little twists on it. Besides, that was like the ultimate test for OOC, you know? Did the canon lines fit in with the rest of the story? I mean, I though yes, but I guess it's a matter of opinion!), fanficlove2014, and MajorZeldaGeek (I'm glad I got to brighten up your Tuesdays, even if only for a few months!)

And so for the last time, if you enjoyed this chapter or the story, I'd love to hear it. I'll be sure to respond to each of you individually!