The night of Hughes' funeral, she took him home with her. At times like this, she feared to leave him alone. She knew he had considered suicide several times in the past, and she wasn't about to give him opportunity to start down that path again. He was too important; to the military, to the State…and to her.

There was no awkwardness about it. The only problem with him staying at her house was that it could start rumors if anyone saw them go in together and not come back out. Still, she didn't think it likely that anyone would be paying much attention. Most of the nearby military personnel were also mourning Hughes, and her neighbors had never been nosy.

He was quiet and dejected, hands buried deep in his coat pockets, shoulders slumped, hat drawn over his eyes. She hated seeing him like this. Hughes had been her friend too, but Roy had lost his best friend; nearly a brother. He hung up his coat and hat mechanically, dark eyes not really seeing her small home. She almost smiled at the way he automatically took his favorite corner of her rather battered couch, resting his elbows on his knees and propping his face in his hands, staring at the opposite wall as if her faded rose pattern wallpaper was infinitely fascinating.

She padded up to her bedroom and got out of her uniform top, laying it out over the back of a chair, ready for the next day. She had two guns on her, even for the funeral; she removed them and laid the holsters over the desk. Then she hung her long mourning skirt away in the closet. She undid her hair and pulled on a light blue tank top and matching baggy flannel pajama bottoms. Finally, she jogged back down the stairs, leaping over the banister at the bottom. Roy looked up, one brow rising, and the tiniest bit of a reluctant smile touched his lips. Good. He'd always been amused by how different she was off duty than on, and at this point, she was willing to be especially humorous if it could wring a smile from him.

He seemed to relax somewhat now, reaching to pull off his boots and tossing his military jacket across the room. Black Hayate, who had thus far been on best behavior, sensing the tension in the air, took this as a signal to loosen up. He launched himself at Roy, leaping onto the colonel's chest and slobbering all over his face. Riza smiled. Roy liked dogs, and the sound of his laughter was a welcome relief.

Finally, when the dog calmed down, Roy stretched out along the couch and crossed his hands behind his head, staring at the ceiling. Riza closed her eyes as she sat down in the chair across from him. She hated it when he did that, when he lay down on her couch with his feet hanging off the end and stared at her ceiling and smirked. He did it on purpose, she just knew it. He loved making her remember…

One night, that was all it had been. They'd been a little tipsy after the big Military New Year's Eve party that was held each year in Central; but not drunk enough for it to truly be an excuse. The memories were too clear for it to be passed off as a drunken encounter. Fortunately, everyone else had been too drunk to notice them leave together. One night, and there wasn't a room in the house that she could sit in without the memories coming back, attached to some part of the room. The front door, the kitchen counter, the couch, the desk in the study, her bed, the shower…Years of tension had been released in that night…but to him, she knew, it was just another one night stand. An utterly spectacular one, perhaps, but still, just another in a long list. For her, it was so much more; it was her first and only night with the man she loved.

"So," She started slightly at his voice and glanced up, relieved to see that he wasn't giving her that infuriatingly hot knowing smirk anymore. "why'd you drag me here? Afraid I'd blow my brains out?"

She winced at the very thought, but dodged the question.

"No one should have to grieve alone."

"Even if they want to?"

She looked up, her red-brown eyes meeting his almost black ones.

"Do you want to be alone?"

For a long moment, he was silent, but then he slowly shook his head.

"No."

There was such a sad, lonely look in his eyes. She wanted to wrap her arms around him and hold him like he was a child, to lie to him, say that everything would be alright. But she couldn't, because he was a man, not a child, and he knew just as well as she did that the world would never be alright.