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The deep indigo sky was splashed with a vibrant display of stars, the silver crescent of the moon hanging near the shadowed horizon. Here on the second story of ‘her’ crumbled building, Riza had an uninterrupted view of the sky through the wall that was missing.
Compared to the dry heat during the day, Ishvalan nights bordered on frigid. Hunkering against the cold, Riza pulled her standard issue blanket closer, trying to stave off the chill as the wool scratched at her exposed skin.
She didn’t need to be up this late, but sleep had run from her like a phantom, barely glimpsed and impossible to catch. Troubled, she lifted her hand, rubbing the dull ache of the mending scar along her throat.
They’d returned to Ishval to begin restoration efforts only a few days ago, but since they’d arrived, any time she had alone was plagued by memories of the last time she’d been here. The nights had never been this quiet back then. Always, somewhere in the distance, there echoed gunfire or the rumble of explosives. This silence had been deadly back then, a warning of the unknown and threat of an ambush.
As if to prove her right, the distant sound of gravel crunching under a pair of boots reached her. Her ears twitched as she tensed with the honed anticipation of a soldier, her hand dropping to her hip holster as the steps drew closer.
Pushing aside her natural paranoia, she tried coming up with a reason for the late night wanderer. She doubted it was a hostile, especially where they were in Ishval with the blessing of its people. Perhaps a night guard, wandering on their rounds to make sure nothing was happening.
Much closer now, and somewhere below her, the footsteps came to a stop, the distant crickets filling the silence as Riza waited with bated breath. There was a long exhale from the stranger before a soft knock came at her own front door.
Brow furrowing, Riza quietly shifted to her stomach, leaving her blanket behind as she army-crawled her way to the edge of the knocked out wall. She peaked over the crumbled stucco down at her unexpected visitor. His hands were tucked into his pockets against the chill as he peered down both lengths of the street, waiting for her to answer.
She recognized that mop of black hair and the wide set of his shoulders. How could she not? Even from this birdseye view, she knew him, almost better than she knew herself.
And he was anxious.
She quietly pushed herself to her feet, collecting her blanket and descending the worn, sandstone stairs with as much stealth and haste as she could manage.
She hadn’t left any lights on below, having planned on staying upstairs until dawn. Now she regretted that choice, the dark setting her on edge with thoughts of watching eyes and cutting hands.
With her hastening heartbeat, she fumbled for a lamp, finding it but struggling to locate the accompanying matchbox. Behind her, he knocked again at her door, an urgency to his rap. Jumping, adrenaline spiked in her veins as her hands shook, almost knocking the lamp over. What she wouldn’t give for an electric light right about now.
Cursing under her breath, she snatched the lamp, stumbling her way to the door with it. Unlatching the bolt, she pulled it open, meeting his shadowed figure in the night. “I’m sorry, Sir. I was trying to get a light. I found a lamp, but the matchbox…”
“In,” he whispered urgently, grabbing her shoulders and pushing her back into the dark, following her with a furtive glance out the door before he quickly closed it, casting them in pitch. She heard the lock click, and her own unsteady breaths, but little else. He’d gone quiet, the umbral essence surrounding them threatening to suffocate her.
“Sir?”
“Sorry to burst in here like that. I didn’t want…” he trailed off, his voice hanging in the dark. “Is something wrong?”
“What?” she breathed, her heart thundering in her ears, the hair on the back of her neck prickling as an oppressive sense of doom lingered behind her.
“You’re breathing. You sound…”
Scared. She filled in the word for him, but knew he wouldn’t accuse her of such an emotion. Swallowing hard, she made an effort to slow her breaths, though they still writhed frantically in her throat for air.
Pride was gone. The version of Selim Bradley that remained now was an infant, nothing more.
“I’m- everything’s fine, Sir. I’ve just been…” she cut off, not prepared to admit her fears and troubled memories in the dark.
“Not sleeping well?” he asked after a prolonged pause. “I can’t sleep either,” he breathed, his voice soft.
Relief flooded her, her shoulders relaxing as she lowered the lamp. “Can I help you, Sir?”
“I- was hoping for company. I’ve noticed how tired you’ve been and guessed you’d be up too.”
She’d tried to hide it, but there was only so much she could do about the growing shadows under her eyes. She’d even inattentively lost her focus during briefings a few times throughout the day, her mind on the brink of exhaustion. A faint part of her had been aware of Roy’s own agitation and sunken features, but fighting her own demons, she hadn’t focused on his struggles as much as she usually would.
“Let’s try to get that lamp lit,” he suggested, his voice gentle.
She blinked, turning her attention to the lamp in her grip. “Right. I- couldn’t find the matchbox in the dark. Could you…?” She held out the lamp, careful to not hit him with it.
There was a rustling of fabric before his hand bumped against her arm, skin brushing skin. His fingers ghosted down her forearm, leaving tingling trails etched into her flesh. He lifted the lamp’s weight from her grasp and she let go.
It took him a moment. She could hear the lamp creak as he adjusted before his familiar snap filled the quiet, a flash of orange alchemy springing from his fingertips, igniting the wick. The steady kerosene light illuminated her sparse quarters, Roy holding the lamp as it cast shadows across his face and the haunted look in his eyes.
“Sir,” she gasped, breath taken away by the sight.
He shifted, attention turning the two windows in the room. He crossed to the closer one, tugging the drapes to make sure they fully covered the window. “Is there something wrong?” she asked as he moved to the second window, doing the same.
“Not- exactly,” he answered, glancing around furtively. “I just know- some people might not understand why I’m here. And with how many soldiers there are, I don’t want anyone getting the wrong idea.”
The wrong idea. She grew sober, taking in his attire. He wore his usual button up which was partially untucked from his uniform pants. Dressed down for the evening but not completely relaxed, just as she was, her pistol still attached to her belt.
Relaxing a bit, Roy carefully set the lamp down on her only table, the small surface cluttered with papers and gear. As he examined the mess, embarrassment creeped into Riza’s cheeks. “This is unlike you,” he commented, picking up a magazine, eyeing the bullets inside.
“I’ve- had a lot on my mind,” she offered, resisting the urge to hastily clean and organize her space. She didn’t have anything to offer him either, no tea or alcohol, or even a small snack. She didn’t even have a second chair. “Would you like to sit?” she asked, hoping to at least try at hospitality.
His attention moved to the single folding chair only half tucked under the table. “I’ll be fine, Lieutenant.”
Right. Unsure of herself, she dropped the blanket in her arms, letting it unravel before she pulled it around her shoulders, trying to stave off the cold. Only then did she realize she didn’t even have a second one to offer to him. “Sorry, Sir. I’m afraid I don’t have anything to offer as a host.”
He gave a hollow chuckle, slipping his hands into his pockets. “Don’t worry, Lieutenant. This is about what my place looks like right now.”
She gave a pained smile, eased by his humility. She crossed over to her cot, sitting on the bedroll and leaning back against the rough wall. “So you can’t sleep either?”
He shook his head, a troubled look crossing his face, his shoulders hunching as he kept his elbows close to his torso. “I- every time I manage to, I just have nightmares.”
“You and I both,” she murmured. Taking in his stance, she asked, “Are you cold?”
He quickly shook his head, beginning to pace. “I’ll be fine. Keep your blanket, Lieutenant.”
She frowned, watching as his steps carried him from the door to the table and back again. Sitting up, she unraveled herself, patting the bedroll beside her, “Come sit.”
He looked at her, his gaze difficult for even her to read. Slowly he turned his steps, crossing to her. He carefully lowered himself to sit next to her, a respectful distance still between them as the cot creaked under their combined weight.
Part of her was humored by the distance, but it mostly just made her sad. They’d been walking this fragile line for so long it had become their default, even when alone. Perhaps especially when they were alone.
Her heart skipped a beat as she scooted closer, their legs brushing as she lifted the blanket, wrapping it around him. She tried not to focus on the feel of his broad, muscular shoulders as he looked down at her, surprise written plain on his face. “Lieu...?”
“Take it, Roy,” she breathed, not looking away.
Hesitantly he pulled the blanket into place, the wool wrapping them together and mixing their bodies’ heat. She pressed against his arm, resting her cheek on his bicep. Slowly, as if unsure of himself, he wrapped his arm around her waist, pulling her close as they leaned back against the wall.
They snuggled together in silence, Riza watching the kerosene burn, banishing the dark that had her so frightened only five minutes ago. “You know how each of the homunculi had their own abilities? Envy had his shape shifting, and Lust had her razor sharp claws.”
“I recall,” he answered stiffly.
“The reason I told you about Selim through code was because he was watching me through the shadows. Constantly. Always. With the stories we heard from Briggs and the Elrics, he didn’t seem to have many limits.” Absently she lifted her fingers, brushing the cheek Pride had sliced the night he’d revealed himself. The evidence was gone now, but she could still remember the sting. “There were many nights I could only sleep when Hayate was in bed with me. I know he probably couldn’t have done anything to help, but- he could have alerted me something was wrong.
“Now-” she exhaled unevenly, a slight tremble traveling through her body as she did. “Now we’re back here. I know we’re trying to help, but I keep thinking about the War. About the people.”
Under the blanket, his hand shifted, finding hers. He entwined their fingers, squeezing gently. “I do too. I’m sorry we had to leave Hayate behind. Once we get things more settled, you can have Catalina bring him here.”
“I know. I just- can’t seem to sleep alone anymore,” she confessed, turning her face to nuzzle against his arm, slowly inhaling his scent, familiar and comforting.
They were flirting with danger, but she couldn’t make herself properly care. Under the blanket she caressed the back of his hand, the slightly jagged skin of one of his scars tugging under her thumb.
“So, the dark scares you?” Roy asked. She looked up, seeing the way his eyes had gone cold. “It haunts me too. It’s not the same as being blind, but it’s the closest thing to, and- and I don’t like thinking about it. My thoughts always turn to those horrors we faced. I faced. Seeing you bleeding out...” he faltered, his voice cracking.
She pulled her hand free, slipping both to cradle his face as she soothingly caressed his cheeks. “I’m fine,” she reassured.
They hadn’t talked about it in the hospital, it had been too raw. Then once his eyes had been healed, they only saw each other at work, and there never seemed to be enough time.
His expression softened, his eyes flickering to her lips. She hesitated, holding her breath as she waited to see- would he really?
They’d been here before, two strands tugging war between their hearts. Duty desperately trying to pull them apart as fate always tried to wind them tighter and tighter. Roy drew closer, fate’s cord stronger as duty’s thread suddenly snapped.
His lips met hers, and breath rushed back to her in a gasp against his mouth, her entire body thrumming from the aftereffects of the break. He pulled back, worry crossing his brow as her chest heaved.
“I’m sorry...” he started, guilt clouding his eyes.
She shook her head frantically, pulling him back as she pressed their lips together again, soaking in his warmth and letting it consume her. Breaking apart, she hastily gasped, “Don’t you dare...,” before she kissed him again, fervent as she held him close.
Getting the message, he coiled his strong arms around her, cradling her neck as he kissed her back, years of repressed longing throbbing between them. The cot creaked as they gently rocked, Riza pulling closer as she slipped her hands down his chest, admiring the hard feel of his solid figure.
He gave a breathy grunt, his fingers digging into her hips as he opened his mouth, his tongue heatedly running across the seam of her lips. She gasped again, giving him the opportunity to slide into her mouth as she clung to him, her body burning as she finally tasted him.
The frantic desperation that had consumed her slowly eased, and she was left to actually sit with this new development as they kissed and nipped and tasted each other, a buzz blossoming in her veins. He broke from her lips, dragging his mouth down her jaw to her throat as he reverently kissed the scar on her neck.
Closing her eyes, she sighed, relaxing in his arms as he pulled back, warm breath dusting her collar. “I’m sorry I couldn’t stop them.”
“Neither of us could,” she murmured, her voice growing husky. “We’re lucky we survived.”
He nuzzled against her neck, his arms squeezing her tighter. “I haven’t dared to ask, but does it still hurt?”
She gently pulled back, taking both of his hands into hers as she caressed the twin scars, never breaking away from his gaze. “It aches sometimes, but less and less each week. What about these?”
“When I have a lot of paperwork,” he conceded, “Or when I snap. Every time.”
She grimaced, gently rotating his hands palm up. She bent down, pressing her lips to his palms, first his left, then his right. “When you were taken, I was so worried. I had no idea where you’d gone, and you had been there before my eyes just a few moments prior.”
“I’m here now,” he reassured, moving to cup her cheeks, her hands still holding his wrists.
“I can’t breathe whenever you’re gone. All this time, all these years, you’re all I’ve wanted. And I know you’re not gone, but please, don’t ever leave me.”
He gently shushed her, caressing her cheek. “Riza. Riza,” he murmured, a warmth entering his eyes as he pulled her close, a soft smile curving his mouth. “Here I thought I had you figured out. The idea of losing you- it haunts me just as much.”
She closed her eyes, clinging to his shoulders as she pressed her nose against his neck. There, in the warmth of each other’s embrace, the fears that had been toiling inside her finally slowed.
As all the turmoil inside her calmed, her body remembered its fatigue. At the same time, Roy exhaled heavily against her shoulder, his muscles relaxing under her grip.
She gently pulled away, looking up to see the same weariness in his own eyes. “Stay,” she whispered, absently toying with his collar.
He gave a breathy chuckle. “Looks like we can’t turn back now, Lieutenant.”
“That’s a worry for another day, Sir,” she dismissed.
“Alright,” he smiled, cupping her cheek. “I’ll stay. As long as you want me.”
“Always.”