Title: Normalcy
Day/Theme: Sept. 1 / don't think your life didn't matter
Character/Pairing: Roy, Riza
A/N: This was supposed to be about Riza and how she more-or-less gave up on life when she thought Roy had died. Instead, this came out. Hmph.
Warning: Set a little after the last chapter, but before the snapshots on the last three pages of the manga.
Summary: It's a miracle, really, that they are both here, staring up at that blue sky.
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They walk, down the street, past the rebuilt walls and scattered rubble. She leads, like always, back straight and eyes forward. He follows, his hand on her shoulder, his eyes moving slowly from side to side.

It is something they're slowly becoming accustomed too, this strange ritual. Roy's eyes have slowly started to work as they should, moving when he wants, seeing what he can. First it was monochrome, layers upon layers of black and white and grey.

So much grey, it seemed like the world was covered in a layer of ash.

(What he missed the most: her sharp eyes, her bright hair, the quirk of her lips and the barrel of her gun.)

Then colours filtered in, blue, green, red, and it splashed on.

It might have only been a few hours of darkness. It felt like years.

The first thing he saw was his hand, the white gloves covering it like a second skin. The second was his steaming cup of coffee.

The third was her smile, radiant like the sun, and then only the blue of her uniform.

"It's all being fixed, sir," Riza mentions as they move around yet another pile of charcoal debris. She doesn't mention how he can see now and doesn't need the help anymore. "Within the month the street should be returned to how it was."

"And my favourite restaurant should open then," Roy sighs, grinning happily.

"By then, sir, you might be moved out to another location," she replies, her words clipped and short and to the point.

She's like the bullets she shoots.

And he's too flamboyant, like his fire, and sometimes it amazes him how she sticks around.

"What?" He gives her a teary look, which she steadfastly ignores, and they continue to the bronze front gates of their temporary headquarters.

"This is it, sir," she points out, standing still while he takes it in. It's a simple brownish red building, three stories high and probably fifteen feet across.

Probably not comfortable at all and there won't be any chess matches, at least not for a while.

"Typical. They're too cheap to pick a nice hotel with five star services."

"Do you want to go in, sir?"

He sighs, looking up at the bright blue sky (the one he didn't think he'd see again), and then back at her.

"It's nice to be back."

At that she looks at him, a small smile on her face. "Yes it is, sir." In a rare moment of weakness, she adds, "I'm glad you're alive, Roy."

He doesn't call her on it, instead merely smiles back. "Me too."

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