"Major?"
The quiet voice outside his tent shook him from a doze. Sitting up and pulling the textbook off his face, Roy hurriedly finger-combed his hair so that it wasn't sticking out in any odd directions. "Come in!"
Even the small figure that entered had to duck. Boyishly-cut blonde hair caught the soft light of the oil lamp as Riza Hawkeye stood straight and pushed back her cloak hood. "I'm sorry for showing up unannounced, sir," she said, coming to attention. "I hope I'm not interrupting anything."
"Just the regularly scheduled boredom," he answered dryly. Tossing the textbook aside, he got to his feet and stretched. "What can I do for you?" He paused, noting her right arm still raised in salute. "At ease, by the way."
"Thank you, sir." Settling into a loose stance, she let her usual blank mask — her soldier's face — soften into something more normal. "I . . . just came by to thank you for something else, actually. For the help. The other night."
He smiled, catching her meaning. "My pleasure. It's the least I can do for my old teacher's daughter."
He needed to talk to her. If there was one other person in this whole da** army that would support him — someone other than Hughes — it was her. She was scheduled to come off guard duty on the northern perimeter any minute, and he wanted to intercept her before she got too far. Catch her off-guard to help her agree more easily . . . .
Up ahead, through the other soldiers milling about the campfires dotting the night-darkened camp, he saw those distinctive bangs, half-hidden by a cloak hood, moving toward him. "Hey! Hawkeye!"
Her head came up, brown eyes flashing as she looked for the person calling her name. Roy waved, and grinned as she caught sight of him; she didn't return the smile. Instead, her face was tense and drawn.
"I'm glad I caught you," Roy began, stopping in front of her. "Are you busy? I need to talk to you about something."
Her answer was soft, almost lost in the bustle of the camp around them. "No, but if you don't mind, sir, I'd like to be on my own for a while."
This wasn't like her . . . . Roy frowned. "Are you all right?"
"It's nothing; I'll be fine." She stepped to the side to move past him. "If you'll excuse me, Major . . . ."
"No way." Reaching out, he caught her by the arm, and towed her sideways though a gap between two tents at the side of the path. Ignoring her struggle to break free, he turned to the left, between two walls of crates that rose above head height.
Wrenching her arm out of his grasp, Hawkeye whirled on him, brown eyes blazing in fury. "What the hell do you think you're doing?"
"Good, you're angry," he said, folding his arms in satisfaction. "When you're angry, you talk more. Now tell me what's wrong."
Hawkeye gritted her teeth, still glaring at him. "It's none of your business," she growled, one hand going to the carrying strap of her rifle, slung over her shoulder. "Major, I just came off twenty hours of guard duty; all I want to do is sleep. We can discuss my problems some other time."
Roy levelled a finger at her in triumph. "Ha! So you admit there is a problem!" Grinning, he leaned forward, watching the anger still smoldering behind those eyes. "Come on . . . if you can't tell your dad's former student, who can you tell?"
He watched ire disappear, and the glare fade into a slightly glassy-eyed look. Wait . . . that wasn't good. Roy dropped his grin, feeling himself go on alert at the sudden change. ". . . Hawkeye?" This wasn't because of her father, was it? That still tended to be a touchy subject . . . .
He didn't notice that she was slowly tilting to one side until she took a staggering half-step in that direction and put a hand to the wall of crates for balance. "Hey! What's the matter with you?" Taking her arm again, he eased her down to the dirt, sitting her against the boxes.
"I'm fine," Hawkeye muttered, leaning her head back against the wall. "Just dizzy, that's all."
Roy frowned. "Dizzy? Are you sick?"
"No . . . it's been happening on and off for about six hours, since . . . ." She abruptly cut off, eyes opening and mouth clamping shut.
. . . . Please don't throw up . . . .
"Since when? Since you went on duty?" She nodded. "Is it because you're tired?"
"I don't think so."
"Then what —"
"Why are you so concerned about this?" Her anger was back, evident in the snap that had suddenly returned to her voice.
"Because I'm worried you're going to keel over on me any second, idiot!" He folded his arms firmly. "Look, you know what's wrong with you, so why won't you tell me?"
"Because six hours ago, I almost died!"
Again, she turned that glare on him, this time so forcefully that Roy jerked backward in reflex. For a moment, he stared at her, until she turned away and closed her eyes.
". . . . What happened?:
Hawkeye took a deep breath. "The northern perimeter is mostly covered in a rock field. Some of them are big enough for a man to hide behind . . . and that's exactly what happened. An Ishvalan assassin used the rocks in my peripheral vision to sneak up on me. I didn't see him until just before he could fire."
Staring, Roy found himself dreading to hear the next words out of her mouth. ". . . And then?"
He wasn't sure if her lower lip quivered, but her eyes clenched shut, and when she said "I shot him," her voice cracked. He squirmed in discomfort at seeing her trying so hard not to cry. What to do . . . da**, where was Hughes when he needed him?
Shifting closer, and turning so they sat side by side, he put one arm around her shoulders. "It's okay, Hawkeye. It's just the shock. You'll be okay."
He wasn't prepared for her to suddenly turn and bury her face in his shoulder. He wasn't prepared for the feeling of tears soaking through his uniform, or her entire body curling into a ball of tension as she cried. He wasn't prepared for the gut-wrenching, heart-breaking sound of one of his friends in serious pain. He could think of nothing to say that would calm her, or bring a smile to her face again. So he put his other arm around her, hugging her close, and waited.
Minutes ticked by, almost feeling like hours. Ten, then twenty . . . thirty had passed by the time she fell silent. His cheek resting against the top of her head, Roy felt her turn her face so that she could breathe. "Get it all out?"
". . . I think so." One hand lifted to wipe her eyes. "I'm sorry to fall apart on you like that, sir, I —"
She tensed again as she suddenly remembered that right at this moment, she was caught in an embrace from a superior officer. Roy, on the other hand, had been well aware of this fact from about ten seconds after she started crying on his shoulder. He'd long since stopped caring.
As she tried to push away, he kept his grip firm; she lifted her head to look at him. ". . . Sir, I'm sorry, I really shouldn't be —"
"You shouldn't be by yourself when you're hurting that much," he interrupted, then smiled. "Riza, we've got a few minutes away from this hellhole . . . let's just enjoy it. All right?"
She blinked once in surprise, before her gaze drifted to the side, thinking it over. "I guess you're right . . . I'm off-duty, no one's going to be looking for you unless they're starting up a new campaign . . . ."
"Besides, you're still obviously in residual shock," Roy added. "You've just been put through the wringer. Relax a little; it can't hurt."
Finally, she looked back to him with the tiniest of smiles. "I guess you would know about that, wouldn't you, sir."
Maybe it was the way the shadows of the walls contrasted with the moonlight on her face. Maybe it was that light reflected off her eyes, or how it turned her hair almost silvery. Maybe it was the fact that they'd spent the last thirty minutes in a very close, very personal way.
Maybe he didn't care why he did it, but he leaned forward and kissed her.
Her muffled half-yelp of surprise seemed almost funny; he laughed quietly to himself as she pulled away. "Major, what . . . ." She swallowed, then tried again. "Are you trying to break every fraternization law in the book?"
"I don't know. How am I doing so far?" he quipped.
She took a deep breath, eyes going skyward in a prayer for patience. "Sir, I'm perfectly willing to take a few minutes to relax and escape from reality. But what you obviously want is both fraternization and conduct unbecoming an officer." She shook her head. "We might be able to get away from the war a little, but we can't get away from who we are."
Roy smirked, lifting one eyebrow. "How philosophical of you. Very well . . . if we can't escape ourselves, then we'll just have to change those selves a little. For the next ten minutes, I'm just Roy. Not Major, not the Flame Alchemist. Just Roy."
Finally, she smiled, fully this time. "Pleased to meet you, Roy. My name is Riza."
"Pleasure's all mine."
He kissed her again, lingering longer when she didn't pull away. It was strange; some mixture of comfort and companionship and romanticism that just somehow felt right and good. There was no more war, no more blood or death or injury. No war camp, no enemy lying in wait in the night ready to kill. As far as the two of them were concerned, for ten minutes, they were the only living beings for miles.
Those ten minutes were up far too quickly. Riza breathed deep and leaned back against the wall again, her eyes closing with a peaceful expression at last.
Roy quirked an eyebrow. "You okay?"
She smiled, and opened one eye to look at him. "Still dizzy, sir. But I have a better reason this time."