At the End
Riza was standing by his desk, in uniform, when Roy came in from his first and last speech as Fuhrer. She snapped to attention when he walked in, fingers to forehead in the salute that came automatically.
“Hawkeye.”
“Sir.”
They stared at each other for a moment, neither of them giving way. Roy twitched his fingers in annoyance. She could be so stubborn at times.
“They’ll be coming to arrest me soon,” he said.
He knew before she opened her mouth what she was going to say.
“Yes, sir,” she said.
So stubborn.
“Me and anyone with me, before working their way down the list,” he continued. “If you-”
“Thank you, sir, but I’ll wait here.” With you.
She wouldn’t have been Hawkeye otherwise.
Roy sighed and walked over to his desk. It was tidy, for once, all the paperwork neat and in order, his own arrest warrant at the top of a tall, tall stack on the corner. Roy walked behind his desk, one last time, and looked out at his office. It was stark, empty, shadows giving into darkness by the doorway. It was deathly quiet, though outside he could hear faint noises - shouts, orders, standard-issue boots clomping up and down and everywhere around. Soldiers and peacekeepers, confused as hell as they tried to figure out whether they should be arresting their partners or arresting themselves.
Hawkeye waited patiently at his right. Fitting that he should finish this with the person with whom he had started it, all those years ago in her father’s house.
Outside there was the distinctive sound of boots scuffing down the hall towards his office. Slowly, deliberately, Roy took off his gloves and laid them on his desk. Riza watched him, then, just as carefully as him, took out her gun and set it next to the gloves.
“Thank you,” he said, and almost reached out with his hand to touch her cheek. “Riza. For everything.”
She nodded, and for one quick second he could have sworn she was crying. And then she glanced away, and when she turned back she was smiling. Honestly smiling.
The soldiers stopped outside the door.
“Let’s go, Roy,” she said, and her voice was as soft as he’d imagined. “Time to face the music.”
They walked out together.
“Hawkeye.”
“Sir.”
They stared at each other for a moment, neither of them giving way. Roy twitched his fingers in annoyance. She could be so stubborn at times.
“They’ll be coming to arrest me soon,” he said.
He knew before she opened her mouth what she was going to say.
“Yes, sir,” she said.
So stubborn.
“Me and anyone with me, before working their way down the list,” he continued. “If you-”
“Thank you, sir, but I’ll wait here.” With you.
She wouldn’t have been Hawkeye otherwise.
Roy sighed and walked over to his desk. It was tidy, for once, all the paperwork neat and in order, his own arrest warrant at the top of a tall, tall stack on the corner. Roy walked behind his desk, one last time, and looked out at his office. It was stark, empty, shadows giving into darkness by the doorway. It was deathly quiet, though outside he could hear faint noises - shouts, orders, standard-issue boots clomping up and down and everywhere around. Soldiers and peacekeepers, confused as hell as they tried to figure out whether they should be arresting their partners or arresting themselves.
Hawkeye waited patiently at his right. Fitting that he should finish this with the person with whom he had started it, all those years ago in her father’s house.
Outside there was the distinctive sound of boots scuffing down the hall towards his office. Slowly, deliberately, Roy took off his gloves and laid them on his desk. Riza watched him, then, just as carefully as him, took out her gun and set it next to the gloves.
“Thank you,” he said, and almost reached out with his hand to touch her cheek. “Riza. For everything.”
She nodded, and for one quick second he could have sworn she was crying. And then she glanced away, and when she turned back she was smiling. Honestly smiling.
The soldiers stopped outside the door.
“Let’s go, Roy,” she said, and her voice was as soft as he’d imagined. “Time to face the music.”
They walked out together.