A/N: Hi there, glad you're checking this out. I am very excited because this is the first time I am actually sharing my fanfiction with the world. I hope you enjoy! Be kind, but also, please let me know what you think, I'm eager to learn.

Special thanks to Lady Proserpina for beta-ing!

Awake

Consciousness crept up on him. Suddenly aware that he was aware, he opened his eyes to the darkness surrounding him. Turning in his bed, away from the wall he was facing, he peeked through the almost drawn curtains of his room for a sliver of sunlight. There was none. He felt strangely awake, restless, but it was clearly still the middle of the night and there was no point in getting up. Turning further, he glanced at the clock on his bedside table. It indicated a quarter to three.

He turned back on his left side, shut his eyes and waited. His brain seemed unwilling to shut down again. Images formed in his mind's eye, arrays, equations, everything that had occupied him during the day and was bound to occupy him again on the next. It would be that much easier if he could simply sleep right now.

He tried focusing on his breathing. Slowly, consciously, he moved his chest up and down, again and again. How long had it been? He turned and looked at his clock again. Ten past three. It was rather stuffy in here, and he was starting to crave a sip of water. Just something cold would make the air around him more breathable.

Untangling himself from his covers, he placed his feet on the hardwood floor. He grabbed a t-shirt from a chair and opened his door to the cool hallway of the Hawkeye mansion. His room was next to his master's, directly across from the stairs to the attic. Next to that was the bathroom and besides this, the bedroom belonging to Master Hawkeye's daughter. Hers was closest to the stairs that would take him down to the kitchen. As he walked towards it, he became aware of the noise that came from her room. It was too silent to be heard from the other side of the hall but it was unmistakable as he passed her door. He could feel his insides turn to ice, his mind raced as he stopped right in front of it. His sudden halt caused the floorboards to creak and the noise ceased abruptly. Roy remained frozen in place, breath caught in his throat.

She was crying. It was such a soft noise and yet somehow, still so horrible.

Riza. Only last week had she asked him to call her Riza. She was nice, and although her kindness had initially been hidden behind a wall of politeness, she hadn't been able to hide it for long. She was quite a bit younger than him, but remarkably self sufficient. He had found that she was surprisingly funny as well. He enjoyed spending time with her. He was picking up the habit of scheduling his study breaks right around the time she came home from school, when she usually sat down and drank tea before starting her homework and chores.

And now she was crying. It was the middle of the night and she was crying, alone. There was something so wrong about that. It unnerved him more than he really understood, more so because he could imagine all too well why she'd be crying. Her relationship with her father was strained at best; he barely seemed to acknowledge her existence. In the six weeks he'd spent here he had never met a friend of hers, nor had she spent any time away from the house except for school and running errands. She seemed fine most of the time, but he could easily imagine she was lonely. Only she choose not to let it show, she choose not to let him in. Of course, he barely knew her. She choose to cry in the middle of the night where no one could hear or see her, because apparently there was no one to whom she dared open up like that. It was agony to just stand there. He was stuck between the distress it caused him to hear her suffer and every value his aunt had raised him with. He couldn't go in there because he understood she wouldn't want him there. And yet he also couldn't not go in there. He couldn't just walk past and pretend it never happened. Not only because she obviously knew he was there, but also because he just couldn't. He couldn't simply go to bed now and not think about it, and he couldn't look her in the eye tomorrow and not think about it.

Minutes passed before he finally decided. He stepped towards her door and gave a soft knock. Then, without opening it, he spoke, 'Riza?' He paused, awaiting a response he didn't really expect.

'I understand if you want to be alone, but just let me know if you need anything, okay?'

He waited again, uncertain. It was stupid, he wasn't sure she could even hear him, but he didn't dare raise his voice fearing it might wake her father. He felt like that would make it worse, as if it would expose her even further. Just as he was about to give up and return to his bedroom, his quest for a glass of water completely forgotten, the door opened to a crack. Riza Hawkeye looked up at him in a faded nightshirt. Her face was surrounded by strands of hair that had escaped the braid she had carefully put into place before going to bed.

'Thank you.'

Her face was slightly blotched and her eyes were still glistening with tears, but Roy could see something else in there, something he hadn't seen in them before. There was a light of determination, a piece of her that wasn't broken. Even in her current state, looking up at him she looked fierce. He just stood there and nodded as she closed the door again.

When he got back to his bed, he still found himself unable to sleep, but the images that occupied him now were not of arrays or anything relating to his studies. All he could think of were her eyes.