A/N: This was my first fanfiction attempt in over three years. It took me forever to find the right fandom, but thankfully, Fullmetal Alchemist was the one :) If you can ever figure out what my old ffnet screenname was, I'll write you something xD It has something to do with my two favorite Harry Potter characters. And that's all you're getting :)

Lights will guide you home

And ignite your bones

And I will try to fix you

(in response to the drawings by rebelwithoutaclauseiv)

(erase the extra "/" to follow the link)

/post/136849238722/following-on-from-this

/post/132909433172/its-been-a-long-day-without-you-my-friend

The harsh stench of smoke, alcohol, and vomit assaulted Riza's nose as she gingerly eased open the tavern door. Immediately she marveled at how the place could possibly be up to Central's health code, considering the broken glass and splintered wood littering every available surface and the ooze of the rabble that usually congregated there. She barely suppressed a noise of disgust as a man, foaming at the mouth, swayed across her path, nearly knocking her down. As he hit the ground with a resounding thwack, drunken laughter echoed around him. Riza sighed quietly and stepped over the unconscious body.

Why the Colonel frequented this disgusting place, Riza would never know. The lumbering idiots that usually stumbled around the bar were not anywhere near the Colonel's standing; only the lowest of the low in the military and the shadier citizens of Central would come here. Peering through the haze of smoke and the forest of drunken denizens, Riza's eyes stung as she searched for her commanding officer.

She remembered the most recent time she'd had to come looking for him. He and Hughes had clocked out at the office after a particularly stressful day at work and immediately come to Bernard's Bar And Brawl (which certainly lived up to it's name; Riza had had to duck flying fists more than once). She had hid her disapproval of the filthy place out of thinly veiled respect for the owner, though that facade had soon dropped. With haste she had dove through the crowds of wasted men and women, searching for the Colonel, Havoc in tow.

Narrowly avoiding the cascade of shot glasses being tossed over her head, Riza shuddered. After everything in Ishval she had grown to hate the feeling of projectiles zooming over her head, regardless of whether it was friendly fire or not. Behind her, Havoc swore, dropping his well-gnawed cigarette in the process. He groaned unhappily and futilely fished in his pockets for a new pack.

"You're going to kill yourself with those, you know," Riza quipped, a headache already forming on her left temple. The unpleasant odor of smoke hanging in the air certainly didn't help.

"Yeah, yeah, gonna get a lung disease and all that jazz. Just can it, Hawkeye," Havoc grumbled. Deciding for now that Havoc was not the one to fight with, Riza overlooked his disregard of her rank. She sighed and pressed forward.

After dodging many overly drunk, flirtatious men (and women) the pair finally found themselves in an isolated corner of the bar. Two men were seated in a private booth, a plethora of shot glasses laid out haphazardly between them. They both leaned back against the wall on their respective sides of the booth, presumably drunk out of their minds. A pair of eyeglasses slid sweatily down the nose of the first man, while once-slicked-back strands of hair ran rampant across the forehead of the other. Colonel Mustang didn't usually comb back his hair, but the hectic day behind him had held one too many war councils and useless review sessions of the recent outbreak of violence in Liore, thus requiring him to take a little more time on his appearance that morning.

Maes Hughes, on the other hand, had still managed to keep his hair from being disheveled, true to his nature. Face scrunched in pain or drunkenness, he leaned into his fist. His elbow was propped precariously on the edge of the table; one wrong twitch would send his forehead smashing into the pockmarked wood. He seemed to be asleep, as did his companion across the table. The Colonel lolled carelessly against the wall, his head tilted at an uncomfortable angle, drool collecting in the corner of his sagging mouth.

Riza rolled her eyes while Havoc snorted. "Hughes. Colonel. Let's go," she ordered, keeping her voice at a smooth level. Neither man showed any sign of stirring from his slumber.

"Aw, come on, Lieutenant, let 'em sleep," Havoc laughed. "This is the perfect time to accumulate some blackmail, if you ask me." Procuring a camera seemingly out of nowhere, he grinned jauntily. With a spark of mischief in his eyes he raised the viewfinder to his eye and snapped a picture.

As the light flashed Hughes started, his hand jerking away from his face and his head falling dangerously to the table. At the last possible second he jerked his head up, narrowly avoiding a bruise to the nose with a startled cry. "Uuuggggghhhhh," he groaned as the sudden movement jarred him. He scrubbed his fist across his face, jostling his glasses. "What happened?"

"Looks like the two of you have had a pretty grand evening," Riza deadpanned. This was the second time in a week they'd decided to relieve the day's boredom by drinking themselves silly. Riza could still smell vomit on her shoes, no matter how many times she had cleaned them. She made a mental note to soak them in the tub again that night- she had a feeling they would be needing it.

Havoc, meanwhile, was busy snapping more pictures, giggling like a child. "Ohhhh, the guys at the office are gonna have a field day when they get their hands on these!" The repetitive flashes had not yet revived the Colonel, and slight annoyance dripped its way into Riza's senses. He had been the same way a few days before.

"Havoc, put that thing down and take care of Hughes, would you?" Riza snapped, the throbbing in her temple beginning to grow. She was tired, smelled like smoke, and memories of Ishval were beginning to slip into her mind unbidden. She was more desperate than anything to get home.

Pouting, Havoc pocketed the camera and began to attempt to extricate Hughes from the trashed booth. Riza, satisfied that Hughes was in good hands, turned her attention to the Colonel. He was still out cold, and surely had to be developing an ache in his neck. For now, the haze of alcohol dulled all his senses.

"Colonel, come on, let's go," Riza urged, leaning closer to him. She took his face gingerly in her hands and straightened his neck, hoping he'd wake up. A long, slurred, "unnnnnhhhhhh" grumbled its way out of his throat at her touch, and Riza let go of him, convinced he was awake enough. To her dismay, his head pitched forward, and he slumped onto the table with a solid thunk. The blonde lieutenant cringed and hurriedly pulled the drunk alchemist back up.

Getting the drunk pair home was much harder than the two young lieutenants had previously imagined. Both men unfortunately decided that the most opportune time to empty their stomachs was, in fact, within the first few minutes of getting dumped into the back of Havoc's car. Hughes had managed to open the car door (notably, while it was in motion), but the Colonel had failed to do so; he had been too drunk to move and therefore vomited all over his and Riza's shoes. Riza had pressed her face to the cool glass of the window, willing herself not to lose her dinner, keeping the Ishval memories at bay.

After what seemed like an eternity, Hughes and the Colonel were both safely washed up and in bed. Havoc (bless him, Riza had thought) had taken on the rather revolting task of washing up the men after dropping off Riza at home. In the meantime, Riza had immediately taken a cold shower to relieve her now-pounding headache and doused her shoes in the tub afterwards. While she scrubbed the Colonel's stomach acid from her now ruined shoes, she smirked. She'd been right about that mental note.

Shaking herself from her memories, Riza quickly erased the lopsided grin that had snuck its way onto her face. Despite how tired and awful she had felt back then, the unfortunate state the two men had been in never failed to make her laugh. Havoc, true to his word, had distributed photos to the entire team, and the men had amused themselves for weeks by imitating their superiors' embarrassing predicaments.

Riza wound her way through the too-familiar bar, avoiding overly passionate couples as she went along. Despite the rowdiness going on at the front door, the back of the bar seemed to be deserted, aside from a single light in a private booth.

Slowly she allowed her steely mask of indifference to fall. Worry puckered her mouth and eyes; she knew who she would find in that booth. Her commanding officer had not shown a noticeable change of character in the office since his best friend had been killed, but being his bodyguard and confidant allowed her a different view of him. He maintained his usual indifferent mask noticeably well in the office, but in the rare moments they were alone together, Riza could tell he was cracking at the seams. He would never admit it, but he wasn't doing well. Roy needed help.

Carefully stowing her worry she rounded the corner and went into the booth. To her surprise the Colonel was not slumped over onto the table. He sat with his back to her, a few empty glasses near his loosely entwined hands. To the untrained eye he was just another officer at the pub having a drink, not a care in the world, but Riza knew better. His body language was tense, self protective, withdrawn. The Colonel always had impeccable posture (when sober, at least) but tonight his resolve was slipping.

"You may as well come in." Roy's voice was flat, emotionless.

Startled, Riza asked, "How did you know it was me?"

"We've been together long enough." Roy's voice was softer now, a hint of familiarity creeping in. Riza did as he asked, taking a seat to his right, not looking at him.

Roy was silent for several minutes. The only thing to be heard was the clinking of glasses and the creaking of aging wood from the main part of the bar. Riza didn't mind the silence between them; it wasn't uncommon. What she minded was the absence of Roy's usually calming presence. In its place was a veil of carefully composed blankness, with no regard to whom he was with. The familiarity of before was gone. Riza had seen him do this before… in Ishval.

"Sir," she started softly, "are you alright?"

Knowing fully well he was not, Riza immediately regretted her question. Roy sighed, and broke his rigid form to wipe a hand wearily across his face. "Lieutenant, I think you know the answer to that question, so why would you bother taking the effort to ask?"

"Because you need help," she replied softly. "You may have everyone else at the office fooled, but you know I can see right through you. Just like you said, we've known each other long enough."

Roy didn't speak for a moment. "It's Hughes," he said finally. Riza nodded, she knew that Roy had been spending too much time thinking about his recently deceased best friend. She listened intently as he continued, still not daring to look at him.

"There was a moment in the office today where I was so busy I forgot he was gone. The phone rang and I thought it was him, calling to blabber on about his daughter and his wife, so I almost hung up, but it wasn't him, it was just Armstrong calling in about something from Internal Affairs." He paused, inhaling slowly. "He called at the same time almost every other day- 14:36 on the dot, every time. So when Armstrong called at that same time, I-" His voice broke abruptly, and he swallowed. "Riza, he's never going to bust into my office brandishing that same dumb photograph of Elicia again, or interrupt a trial, or annoy Fuery- or any of us really- with his ramblings. I'm never going to hear him gush about how much he loves his wife and dotes on her again. When he was here I found it incredibly annoying and boring but now I-" The Colonel faltered. "I-" His voice broke again, this time harsher than the first. He banged his fist angrily against the table, his jaw set.

"You miss it," Riza finished, turning her body towards him. "I do, too."

Roy could only nod. He finally looked at her, and what Riza saw scared her. His jaw wasn't set anymore, it was trembling as he pressed his lips together. Those dark eyes she knew and loved were full to the brim with grief and pain. He'd been crying. The desperation and anguish rolled off of him in waves, and she could feel him drowning. Riza didn't usually let her emotions get the better of her, but she suddenly felt her eyes stinging.

She missed Hughes and his blabbering too, how could she not? The three of them had been together ever since she'd saved Roy's life in Ishval. Maes had had an unexpected way of pressing at her sense of humor, earning him stifled laughs and startled blushes. Amidst the desolation and gore of war, Hughes had held the three of them together. Aside from Roy, Maes was the only one who knew the deeper details about Riza and Roy's past. They had even told him about burning the notes on Riza's back. Together they had risen through the ranks of Eastern Command and when Hughes had gotten transferred to Central, their triad of trust had been strained. She'd missed Maes then, but that pain paled in comparison to what she was feeling now.

Stuck in her memories, she didn't stir until she noticed Roy wiping a thumb across her cheek. Riza jumped a little at his touch; his hands were usually warm but his fingers were freezing now as they caught her tears. "Sorry," he muttered, his voice low and aching. Riza wanted to berate him for removing his spark gloves in a place like this, but the immobilizing pain that undulated from him convinced her otherwise.

Riza felt a sob rising in her chest. She pressed a hand to her mouth and felt the tears running down her cheeks. She didn't know why she was breaking; she had come here with the intention of being strong for Roy and taking care of him. Now, it seemed, they would have to support each other, like always.

Roy gathered her carefully in his arms, gripping her tight. To her surprise, he softened, the warmth he usually held in both body heat and gentility returning. She could feel him shaking, and could feel wetness against her shoulder. They hadn't cried together like this since… well, since Ishval. The thought made her heart ache. They both hid too much from each other, and these moments showed a rare vulnerability for them both. She knew that what she was feeling had to be nothing compared to the abyss of emotion he so cleverly hid all the time, but that knowledge just made her grip him tighter.

They were a long while; they always had been. The pair of them had always unhealthily held everything in until they burst. One could only hope they were together when it happened. Finally, Riza's tears stopped. All that remained was exhaustion, and the absence of a large weight from her chest. She knew it would return later, but for now, it was gone. Extricating herself carefully from Roy's shaking arms, she noticed that the waves violently rolling from him had calmed to quiet swells, and that the tiredness had set in him too. She looked into his eyes, searching for the Roy she knew. Placing a palm against his cheek, Riza rubbed her thumb gently across his face, just under his eye. Roy caught her palm and pressed his lips against it. "Thank you," he murmured.

"What for?"

"For being here."

"Always," she said quietly. "I promised I'd follow you everywhere, didn't I?"

A warm, soft laugh came from him, and he hummed in agreement. "Yes, you did." He stroked her hair, his hands burning like they used to. "Stay with me, Lieutenant." It wasn't a question, it was a request. An order, even.

But this order was one to which Riza was happy to oblige.

A/N: Leave a review! :)