Word Count: 878
Timeline/Spoilers: post-series (slight AU); vague spoilers for entire series
Summary: From the ashes, they will rise. ; slight Royai
Notes: This has now been deemed slightly AU due to recent manga events.
Written after reading chapter 98.

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It was finally over. Father and the Homunculi were no more. The sun would soon set on the Promised Day.

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There were numerous casualties from all sides; so much blood had been shed for one cause. Survivors were left to tend to the corpses of their fallen comrades...or what was left of them. Those who had perished would, of course, be forever honored as Amestris' heroes — those who had fought in hope of a brighter future. The few still living that had opposed them would be imprisoned and tried as traitors.

Rain poured down from the heavens, as if crying for all the lost souls. Soldiers had to work quickly to retrieve the dead before they sunk into the wet earth and were lost for good.

Riza Hawkeye surveyed the scene, not quite knowing how to feel. She had again taken lives for what was supposed to be a greater purpose. She didn't doubt that it had been such, but some unknown force held her back from rejoicing in their victory.

The rain washed off her blood-stained hands.

She turned to see the men she'd worked with for all these years — Feury, Falman, Breda, and Havoc. They had all waited so long for this day to come — the day when that pipe dream became a reality. Her, more than any of them. After all, she had stood behind Roy Mustang and watched his back long before the others had come into the picture. They stood still, in awe. They had planned it all: each mission, every battle tactic, down to what explanations they would have to give if caught. Every last detail was accounted for, right up to the moment of their triumph. And now that their purpose had been served...they knew not what to do. They hadn't devised what would be done after, perhaps doubtful they would even reach that point.

Riza remained rooted to the spot long after the last soldier departed from the battlefield. All those most deeply involved did.

"Now what?" asked a voice belonging to one not quite old as the rest. It was, of course, Edward Elric, the Fullmetal Alchemist. He was asking not for himself, but for the others. He had a family waiting that he could finally come home to, after all this time away. He may have been young, but he was older than his years. He'd suffered through more tragedies and carried more burdens than any sixteen-year-old should have had to deal with. It was to be expected of a boy with metal limbs and a brother that was no more than a soul attached to a cursed suit of armor.

...But no longer. The Promised Day had provided the young alchemist with what he'd been seeking for the past four years: his brother's original body. He was overjoyed at the fact and could finally face his loved ones with a heart not weighed down by guilt. But his fellow military men, on the other hand, had no schemes past achieving this goal. He had simply voiced what all had been thinking ever since the struggle had come to an end.

"Now what?" a new voice repeated. "We move on; we pick up the pieces and rebuild. We go on from here to create the brighter future that the people of Amestris deserve." And he said it with such natural leadership and confidence that those standing couldn't help but see his words as truth. This 'he' was, naturally, none other than Roy Mustang, leader of the entire operation. His subordinates broke out into cheers and relieved laughter. Havoc even let out an excited "yea!" and pumped his fist into the air.

Only one did not join in their merrymaking. She stood apart from the rest. She'd striven for this longer than any of them, so she could not understand why she wasn't as happy as the rest. She should have been over there, celebrating and encouraging, along with him. She was, after all, his second in command. Why couldn't she be happy, relieved, or even overwhelmed at the prospect of having another mission so soon? Why couldn't she feel anything?

Suddenly, someone's arms were around her, and she was enveloped in a warm embrace. Doubtless it was the Colonel. No one else would dare approach her in such a manner... or know how to comfort her. She was caught off guard, to say the least.

"I— Sir— What are you—"

"You're crying," he responded simply. The First Lieutenant realized that she indeed was. She'd thought the wetness on her face to be from the rain, which, unbeknownst to her, had already stopped falling. The sky remained dark and rather gloomy, though.

"It's okay to cry every once in a while," he whispered gently. And with that, Riza Hawkeye let loose and shed the tears she had been holding back for ten years. Roy held onto her all the while.

When her crying ceased, she remained silent.

"...Are you alright?" Roy asked.

"I'm fine," Riza replied. "...Oh look, the Sun's out."

Roy looked up at the dark gray sky. "The sun isn't—"

"No. The Sun's out."

"...Yes. It is. You're right, Riza. Absolutely right," he conceded.

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And that brighter future began with today.

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owaranai

A/N: The conversation at the end is a parallel of an actual scene from the manga, Chapter 16, Separate Ways, after Hughes' funeral. The actual text reads:

Riza Hawkeye: ...Are you all right?

Roy Mustang: I'm fine. ...Oh, no. It's raining.

Riza Hawkeye: It isn't raini—

Roy Mustang: No. It's raining.

Riza Hawkeye: ...Yes. It is. Let's go back. It's... getting cold.

Comments and criticism of any kind are greatly appreciated.