1. Military Personnel

"I don't think I can recall," Riza muses into the silent room, "what it feels like to be human."

Roy looks up, a little startled by an interruption in the previously silent room. It's very late, and the office is otherwise empty, but for its' two occupants. He tilts his head and peers over at her desk. Riza looks down at her paperwork, bangs hiding her eyes, but a bitter smile plays at her lips.

Ah.

Everyone voices their pain in different ways. Roy, personally, is prone to bouts of self-pity, of staring at walls as memories play against his eyes like film reels, of drinking whiskey in the earliest hours of the morning in hopes of getting just a few hours of sleep.

From what he has seen, Riza locks her suffering up inside of herself, so that it is invisible to nearly everyone. She rarely lets her pain rise up, but sometimes she makes light of it, as if the validity of her own unhappiness is laughable.

"What do you mean?" He asks, forcing his voice not waver, to pretend that he doesn't understand.

She meets his eyes then, the desk light casting shadows over her face. She looks exhausted, and much older than her twenty years. Good god, she's only twenty, he thinks, tapping his pen against his lips. Though he's only older by three years, it suddenly seems like it matters, like it did when they were children.

This time last year, they had been sweating and bleeding and killing in Ishval.

Roy breaks away from her stare and looks back down at his paper work. He's been reading the same line over and over again. Something about a thwarted robbery attempt, or an attempted break-and-entry, he's not quite sure. The blue-black ink on the page blurs under his tired eyes, and he drops his pen. He looks up and she's still watching him.

Maybe she doesn't want to talk. Maybe he should go back to his work, maybe she doesn't want him to bother her. Words gather at the back of his throat and die unspoken. Staying silent is always the easiest option. If you keep quiet, your words cannot be used against you. Unfortunately, if Roy Mustang was tremendously bad at anything, it was keeping his mouth shut.

"Y-you didn't answer my question, Lieutenant," he tries, cringing at the stutter. He waits and presses his blunt fingernails into the palm of his hands to prevent them from shaking.

"I don't feel human anymore," she finally whispers, and Roy suddenly feels very cold. "I feel detached from people, like I am watching them from far away. As if I don't belong with them anymore."

Roy squeezes his eyes shut, blocking everything out for a moment. He thinks back to the previous week, when a cadet had accidentally shouldered him while walking by, how he had narrowed his eyes and looked at the younger man like he was a target. His fingers had pressed against themselves as if he were about to snap, before he remembered he was in the mess hall, not the battlefield. No one had seen his slip up, but he had spent the rest of the day with a remarkable urge to vomit.

Roy opens his eyes and rises to his feet, his legs shaking ever so slightly. Riza has slumped down in her chair, looking very small in her bulky uniform. He staggers to her chair and drops to his knees, as if in prayer. She looks down upon him, her dark eyes widening. She shoots a quick glance at the office door, but it is still firmly closed. Slowly, he reaches a hand up and she tentatively grasps it. Their arms are both shaking, but Roy cannot tell who the source is. Riza shifts her hand so that her grip is firm, and covers his knuckles with her other hand.

"How do we keep moving forward?" She breathes. He can smell coffee on her lips and see the fear that is no doubt mirrored by his own eyes.

He manages a wavering smile. "By leaning on each other." This, at least, is something he knows.

"Is that healthy?" She asks dryly, a touch of her normal self.

"Maybe not," he admits with a low chuckle. "But it's what we've got."

"Then it has to be enough," she squeezes his hand with both of hers. "I need you."

"You have me. And I need you."

"Then you have me," she vows, looking down at him with those familiar eyes. She releases him, and he rises to his feet, his legs now steady as ever.

"Perhaps we should call it a night," Roy sneaks a look at the door, and then back at her. "It's nearly midnight, and we need to be well-rested. There's a lot to be done, Lieutenant, and I'll need you with me to do it. Do you understand?"

"Yes, sir," she salutes from her chair and smiles. It's a small and tired smile, but this time it's real.

Thanks for reading! I know everyone's done the 100 prompt challenge, but I wanted to join in on the fun.