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“No! I can’t do that. I won’t!” Roy took a step back, a look of shock plastered across his face.
The blonde woman blinked at him disdainfully. “Fine. I’ll do it myself,” she said, turning away sharply and heading for the kitchen.
“Riza- Riza wait, ” he said, taking a step after her. “I’ll do it.”
“Promise me,” she said, still walking.
Roy said nothing.
“Promise!” she urged again, now into the kitchen.
“I promise.” He almost couldn’t say the words louder than a whisper.
She stopped and turned again, staring at him in an intense, calm manner. “What changed your mind?” she asked at last, approaching.
He couldn’t meet her eyes, but he set a hand on her arm. “Either I burn it, or you take a knife to your back. At least this way I can be here to take care of you,” he said, slowly realizing that his hand was still on her shoulder.
Riza’s brown eyes softened for a moment. “Well, thank you, Roy.”
The dark haired man nodded mutely.
“When do you want to start?” she prompted him as his hand pulled away.
“Ah-” He thought about it for a moment and his face started to change to a bright red. It was sinking in that for at least until he could copy the image down onto a sheet of paper, he would have to be looking at her bare, unclothed back.
“I trust you,” she said. Riza looked at the floor, or her feet, or anything that wasn’t Roy.
He spluttered for a bit, trying to say something reassuring, but ultimately the two of them ended up standing quietly. Riza was still looking at the floor, Roy had turned toward the front door of the little house, arms folded, glaring awkwardly.
He didn’t expect her head to suddenly find his back. She had gently set her forehead in the hollow between his shoulder blades.
They stood like that for a while, neither of them speaking.
“I’m sorry,” she said at last, breaking the silence with a whisper.
He shook his head. “No- No, Riza, don’t do that to yourself,” he said, turning and pulling her into an embrace. “ I’m sorry.”
She pulled away after a moment, tucking her short hair behind her ear, just for it to fall forward again. She turned away and headed for her bedroom. “Knock before coming in,” she told him, closing the door behind her.
Roy sank down the wall after a moment, letting out a breath. “What the Hell have I gotten myself into?” he muttered, getting up again after a bit. He knocked gently, almost hoping she’d turn him away.
“Come in.” Her voice was steady, as always.
How is she always so collected? Roy wondered vaguely, letting himself into the room.
Riza Hawkeye was stretched out flat on her bed over the carefully arranged covers, chin on her elbows, arms on her pillow. Her shirt hung neatly nearby so that it wouldn’t wrinkle.
Mustang found himself admiring the immaculately clean room. It was mostly empty, though there was a stand of dried lilacs on a table near the window. The cleanliness of the room was a sharp contrast to the rest of the house, which was a bit of a mess, dusty and rather stuffy.
He fussed over the curtains and blinds for a moment, making sure they were completely, absolutely, doubtlessly closed, but also very straight and tidy. He turned back and closed the door, straightened an already straight paper on her desk and-
“Roy,” she said sharply, voice cutting into his thoughts. “Focus.”
He sighed, and forced himself to look at her.
Had she been laying in this same position when she got the tattoo? Had it been voluntary? She didn’t seem to have a good relationship with her father.
The thought chilled him. He took a step forward. “Look, Riza… I-”
“Other men wouldn’t hesitate,” she said, turning her head to look at him with those piercingly dark eyes of hers.
He pulled the desk chair next to the bed and sat down with something of a growl. “That doesn’t make me feel better. Other men are dogs, and I’d rather die than be like one of them.”
“I know. That’s why I trust you to be the one to-” She stopped, not quite able to say the words ‘ to look at me .’
He was silent for a long time, and removed a notebook from his bag, getting ready to start copying the mark.
“Don’t,” she admonished. “This is a dangerous alchemy. My father didn’t use paper, neither will you.”
Roy stopped dead. He couldn’t copy the mark. He would have to sit there with her like- like this and he couldn’t do anything to help her.
“Put the notebook away,” she commanded. “Take a breath. Start again.”
He shoved the notebook back into his bag and ran a hand over his face.
“It’s alright, Roy,” she said, looking straight ahead once more.
“Shouldn’t I be telling you that?” he asked with a sigh.
She made no response.
Roy found himself getting used to the routine of visiting her house. During the week, he’d walk over from his place of employment, often bringing with him dinner makings. On the nights that she had to work late, he would spend his time cleaning.
She was always exhausted.
He didn’t know where it was that she worked, and for her sake, he was disinclined to ask.
She always offered him the same smile, and something of a bashful hug, both of which were quickly becoming his favorite part of every day.
Weekends, he always showed up early. Sometimes Riza slept through his arrival and he would wake her with breakfast and coffee.
He had previously hated coffee with sugar, but now the flavor reminded him of a dear friend. Perhaps it had its merits.
The one part of these slow days that he hated with a passion was that it got easier to look at the tattoo on her back.
He didn’t want it to get easier. He didn’t want to look at it at all, except that he needed the secrets of the flame alchemy it had in its designs.
He took his frustrations out in the ignition cloth gloves he had made, snapping in rage at the old dead tree in her backyard.
It was one such day when Roy had left the beautiful girl crying in her room, leaving him with the dark suspicion that she had, in fact, been forced into carrying her father’s alchemy notes, when he was trying a slightly different approach to the exercise.
It was proving to work a little better, and then- boom . There was a small explosion right at the mid level of the tree that split the bark and lit it on fire.
Roy stood for a moment in shock. “I did it,” he said, triumph mingling with disappointment. “I did it,” he said again, and then as he realized that it meant he would have to burn his closest friend. “ Oh no .” And the tree was on fire. “ I did it.”
The door slammed open Riza came charging out of the house, a few buttons on her shirt yet to be secured and tossed a bucket full of water on the burning tree. She was barefoot, and looked to still be on the verge of tears.
They were both silent for a moment.
“You did it,” she said, but there was nothing good in her voice. She was not relieved, or happy for him, and why should she be? To her own surprise, she was deeply sorry to know that he would be leaving soon. The military had granted him extra time to wrap up his personal business and learn Flame Alchemy, but now that he had learned it, he would go away.
“Yeah.” He agreed, voice oddly husky, even for him.
“I thought you would be happier,” she said dryly, and he shot her a glare, quickly looking away again, and inadvertently reminding her that her top three buttons were still undone.
There was another long silence and she, now a few shades more pink, held the shirt closed with one hand.
He kept practicing, no longer attacking the tree, but various spots in the air above them.
“Roy,” she said as it became clear he knew what he was doing.
“ Please don’t ,” he said stopping her.
“You said you would.” Her voice grew a little bit harder.
“Riza-”
“You promised me ,” she said, gaining volume. “Don’t make me do this myself.”
“Alright,” he relented, face twisting in pain. He took her free hand and led her inside. “Wait here.” He pulled out a chair in the kitchen.
Roy stalled for as long as he could in one of the bathrooms, snapping at scraps of toilet paper in the tub, trying to make sure he absolutely would not hurt her more than necessary.
“Everything alright in there?” she called after a time.
“Fine,” he responded, voice shaking. Damnit Roy, what have you done? More to the point, what are you about to do?
“Whatever you’re doing, it’s getting cold in here,” she complained.
Roy straightened, realizing that of course she wasn’t wearing a shirt she was waiting for him to burn the better part of the skin on her back off . The realization hit home and he felt sick.
This wasn’t going to be like learning the alchemy while she lay on her front. She would certainly be upright, and more of her would be exposed.
He swore.
He stepped out of the bathroom, staying in the hallway. “Is there any way I could persuade you to let me do this in increments? A little at a time?”
“No.” She said firmly. “I want it gone. Entirely.”
He couldn’t quite sigh; his lungs had apparently forgotten how to work properly. He stepped forward out of the hallway, dark eyes sad, and sick with self-hatred.
She sat leaning forward over the back of the chair, shirt hung over her arms so that her sleeves were still on.
That at least was a relief.
Still, the sight of her like this was worse than seeing her back the first time as she stretched out on her bed.
“Get it over with.” She said, bowing her head.
He raised a hand, almost wanting to keep his eyes closed. Please don’t scream . He mentally begged her.
“I won’t,” she assured him, and he realized he had said it aloud.
She did. She screamed.
He snapped three times, hoping to get it over with quickly, but the ink went deep, and he had only really destroyed one piece of it.
She was still screaming.
He was just… standing. He couldn’t move. His fingers were frozen at the top of the snap, and the smell of burned flesh hung heavy in the air.
The silence brought him out of it and he only just caught her in time to keep her from hitting the ground, and he lay her carefully on her front, pulling the shirt back up over her head and respectfully down her back.
He sat there, frozen.
Someone was pounding on the door. “Police! Open up!”
Snatching a blanket from the couch, he wrapped her in it and carefully scooped her up, hurrying out the back.
It was getting dark, which was to his advantage, but it also meant he might have trouble seeing where he was going- which would be bad, especially carrying her.
He managed to slip past the small contingent of police into an alley, but they were already searching the house, which would mean they’d start looking in the surrounding areas.
He wasn’t even halfway to his own home -not that he even realized that was where he was heading- when it started to rain. Hard. It wasn’t rain so much as a torrential downpour.
Riza was shivering pretty badly, though she was still unconscious. Roy had to set her down to fumble with the lock on his door. It slid open with a creak and he scooped her up again, plunging inside, leaving a trail of puddles to the kitchen table.
He set her down, gently patting her cheek, begging her to open her eyes. “Riza. Hey, Riza. Come on, wake up!” He pleaded. He pulled back for a moment, and ran a hand through his sopping hair. “Come on, Roy. She’s- she’s cold. Think, idiot. She needs to get warmed up.” He muttered, vanishing into his bedroom. He emerged once more hauling the bedding out.
Sitting the woman forward, he pulled the sopping blanket out from underneath her and tossed it carelessly aside. He slid a dry banket under her and gently turned her over again, sliding her shirt off. This, he was more careful with, and hung it over the back of a chair, wincing as his eyes passed over the burn on her back.
Roy turned away again, fetching a shirt that was slightly too large for him. The alchemist pulled it down over her front, noting with relief that it covered her legs decently, so he pulled the skirt she was wearing down, hanging the clothing carefully over another chair.
He wrapped the blankets around her, and carried her to the couch, moving the whole piece of furniture closer to the unlit fireplace, snapping at it absentmindedly to light it, swearing as he realized his gloves were wet.
Tossing them angrily aside, he stumbled to his feet and started ransacking the house for his matches.
He found the box and after a few tries, had the fire lit and blazing.
Roy turned back to Riza. He needed to treat the burn on her back, but he also needed her to warm up. “I’ll have to wait for her to wake up, then,” he realized, and scooted closer.
It was warm and she was wrapped in soft things, but her back hurt, and lying on her front, it was a little hard to breathe. She pushed herself up, unable to stop herself whimpering in pain as the motion disturbed the burn on her back.
Roy was a puddle on the ground by the couch she was on, and, worryingly, it was not her couch.
“Roy?” she asked, extending a shaking hand out of the blankets to rattle his shoulder, hissing through her teeth in pain.
The man jerked awake, flailing slightly. “Riza!” he gasped, jolting upright. “Are you alright?”
She lowered herself to the couch again, watching him tiredly.
He touched her forehead with a hand, blinked a bit and pulled back. “Damn. I can’t tell.”
“You’re soaking wet. Did you fall asleep like that?”
“I’m sorry- I meant to wait for you to wake- I was worried…” he said, running a hand through his hair.
She made a sound and buried her face in the couch cushions for a moment.
“Hey! Riza-”
“I’m alright,” she said shakily, pulling her face up again.
His eyes softened with worry and he set a hesitant hand on her head. “You’re in a lot of pain. Let’s see if there’s something I can do about that.”
She shifted so that he could easily access her back under the covers.
He gently moved the blankets so they still covered her legs before he pulled the back of the shirt up.
“This isn’t my shirt…” she said coolly.
“I didn’t look,” he said, his face changing to a becoming shade of red.
“I know.”
Of all the things she could have said, that was likely the most comforting.
He vanished, after a moment into his bathroom and re-emerged with a jar of something.
“What’s that?” she asked, trying to think of anything but the burning pain that was her back.
“Burn ointment,” he said simply. He stopped cold halfway to the couch, losing what little color had crept into his cheeks since waking. “I’m sorry- I’m going to have to touch you.” He would have to touch her, the beautiful and pure woman before him. She had already been through so much, and she trusted him despite all of it. She had suffered through letting him look at her, topless, so that he could learn an alchemy she feared as much as she feared her father, and then he burned her, made her scream.
“ Roy ,” she said, pleadingly.
He knelt by her side dipping his fingers in the minty smelling gel. “Alright. I’m sorry.”
“You want to fix Amestris? Pull yourself together,” she said harshly.
“Yes. Yes, you’re right. Of course.” Of course she was right. She was always right. He steeled himself for another moment, and began to rub the gel into her back.
She stiffened at first, and then relaxed. “That’s much- much better.” She sighed. “Your hands are cold.”
“And your skin is too hot.” He countered. “Don’t start worrying about me now, alright?”
“ Roy, ” She said again and he flinched. “When you’re done here, go change. You’re still dripping.”