'To sleep, perchance to dream.'
~William Shakespeare

Chapter One:

Sleep

Riza could not shut her eyes. No matter how hard she tried, they refused to slip shut. Perhaps it was her head; her brain seemed to contain clips of information, slides that continued to bounce past her vision like an old film reel. Her brain, much like her eyes, refused to remain silent. Perhaps it was the weapon perched silently within her fingertips. After all, guns had the ability to haunt the thoughts of soldiers at night. The sound - the high pitched wail- was like a child's scream in the night. Riza knew it well, for she had been given the unfortunate opportunity to experience it endlessly. The sound was a symbol of death, a figure of darkness in a world of light and heat.

It was certainly odd, but Riza knew why sleep had chosen to evade her body. It was a price that had to be paid. Those who killed the innocent did not deserve peace or rest. She, a simple soldier, did not deserve to slip into oblivion and dream. As a consequence for her pillaging and ruthless killing, she was forced to remain awake and become a creature of the night. She had become a monster, one that had been forced to embrace the darkness. It was impossible; she could no longer be one with the light. The daylight literally scorched her skin, further emphasizing how pathetic and evil she had become.

The war had broken her. For that reason, Riza did not have the ability to sleep. She was unable to dream. Her life, once bound with reason and hope, had become a terrible and foreboding nightmare. It was a miracle she continued to live through it.

A whisper of wind slipped through her pale blond hair. Riza looked into the distance and sighed. Ishval was a hellish place when the sun vanished from the world. Fire licked at the remnants of buildings, and the faint laughter of men could be heard dancing throughout the air. Shadows swayed along the ground; they were demons, creatures that haunted every corner and nook that remained within the damaged city. Everything was black and red. Blood and shadow. Nothing remained.

When footsteps echoed within the distance, Riza remained frozen in her position along the battered roof of an old building. It was an area within the makeshift military barracks that no one touched. It was Riza's place; her home within hell. Another sigh slipped through her lips. It merged through the wind, becoming one with the dry breeze. The footsteps came closer, but she refused to acknowledge them. She already knew who they belonged to.

A small crunch of rubble was the only indicator of the so called stranger's arrival. Riza tightened her grasp on the rifle between her fingertips. She stroked the smooth metal encasing the weapon, enjoying the chill that penetrated her skin. She liked the cold in Ishval; it contrasted the unbearable heat that slithered across the ground during the day. It was uncharacteristic, and therefore a welcome sign of life.

The footsteps, a small, insignificant sound in the night, reached for Riza. She shifted her body, moved so there would be space along the small wooden bench she sat upon. Her body immediately stilled, and she continued to stare into the night. Her eyes absorbed the darkness, becoming jet black. Her blond hair, once bright, had dimmed to a dull brown, the colour of murky pond water. Riza was a stranger to herself. That was another reason why sleep refused to capture her soul.

Her companion suddenly sat down, his feet no longer creating subtle sounds in the night. The weight of his body made the bench creek uneasily; for a moment Riza believed that her perch would break. It truly wouldn't be surprising. Wood was a fragile thing, especially in a world of fire and burning heat. Riza's grip tightened along her gun. She craved to feel the chill hidden within the metal, the ice that threatened to crawl into her veins. She wanted to feel nothing, to become nothing. She squeezed tighter, almost in desperation.

A hand brushed her own.

Riza froze. She looked at her fingertips, forgetting the desire to feel nothing, to become one with the haunting chill of her weapon. Her hands, once clenched with determination, were as limp and lifeless as a leaf falling through the wind. Her gun, a symbol of her living nightmare, now leaned against the edge of the roof. She did not place it there. He had.

Her fingers, thin, worn, and elegant, were held in the hands of another. Roy Mustang, a man who had also committed great deeds of evil, balanced her palms between his own. She starred at his calloused fingertips, the dips and dents that dominated his skin. Dirt and cuts marred his flesh, a constant reminder of the battles that occurred endlessly. He held Riza's hand gently, almost as if it would break. It was odd, that only he could see her as fragile, when so many had chosen to believe she was hard and cold as stone.

Her eyes, which simply refused to slip shut, looked towards Roy. She met his blue gaze, and did not ignore the pain that lingered there. He too, a man seen as unconquerable, suffered wounds that could not be seen with the human eye. He had been burned and scathed, washed in blood. The gunshots, the screams which filled the night, sought him out. Roy lived within hell; he had walked each path like an old friend. He was the mirror image of Riza, a man who could no longer dream.

He was broken.

Perhaps that is why he chose to take her hand. Only broken people, those who had fallen apart, could comprehend the strength it took to be pulled back together again. Only monsters could take comfort in each other.

Riza looked into the distance again, lightly squeezing Roy's hand between her fingertips. It was a thank you of sorts, a simple gesture that needed no words. It was a secret, one shared between the scathing wind. She knew sleep wouldn't come to take her. She was far from deserving. But as she starred into the rubble of Ishval, the haunted chuckles of men surrounding her from below, she accepted her predicament. Roy's presence was enough.

AN: Hello, FanFiction! This is my first short story written for Fullmetal Alchemist, an absolutely wonderful show! It is definitely one of my favourites! I plan to continue writing short little passages with a variety of themes or prompts in mind. I will focus on a variety of characters, but most likely Roy and Riza, since I have become rather attached to their relationship. It's complex, yet mysterious. There is so much that we will never know, which creates hundreds of things to write about!

If you guys have any suggestions for prompts, please let me know! I have a difficult time choosing one, as I have so many ideas in mind! This passage is based on sleep, or rather, the absolute lack of it. It's a little dark, but I suppose it is decent enough.

Thank you guys for reading! I hope I have created some enjoyment for readers out in this world! Please feel free to leave a review or prompt. It is appreciated!

~IronEclipse