Each step he takes is like dragging his feet through ankle deep snow. There is nothing that needs to be done more, nor is there anything he would like to be doing less, than what he is about to do. He knows this for a fact, as he has spent the entire walk to her house trying to come up with worse things, and each new revelation falls short to the fact that in a few moments he will have to break the heart of the love of his life.
When he reaches the door he pauses with his hand midair, ready to knock. He can hear the low harmony of her favorite song playing on the radio and the sizzle of something cooking. Briefly he considers taking the coward's way out and just letting her find out when she arrives at Central Headquarters in the morning and sees that her desk has been cleared. He pauses one moment too long and Black Hayate – the little snitch, he thinks bitterly – decides for him, scrambling for the door with a string of harsh barks.
The sounds inside cease one by one and then she is standing in the doorway, hand at her side. Recognition and surprise flashes across and she slowly peels her fingers away from her firearm.
"Colonel," she utters, the confusion apparent in her eyes. "Is something wrong?"
Roy opens his mouth to speak and is appalled at the dry noise that escapes his lips. He clears his throat and tries again. "Riza." With one word he sets the whole tone of their forthcoming conversation. It will be personal, she gleans, and not pleasant. She gathers the latter from his eyes. "May I come in?"
She nods and steps aside, observing him as he passes. He knows her home as well as he does his own but he moves slowly and with the unfamiliarity of someone in a room they have never seen before. He eyes her couch warily for a moment before turning to her. "Can we sit in the kitchen?"
"My table is covered in paperwork." She gives him a pointed look but he is distracted and misses it altogether. "Just sit here. Do you want some tea?"
Roy shakes his head no but remains standing stiffly, his eyes traveling the room with too much interest. The black orbs study every painting on the wall, the few pictures on the coffee table, each little spot on her carpet. Riza sits on the couch, shifting when Black Hayate bounds into her lap. They stare at the Colonel as he purposefully avoids both gazes, finally taking a seat. For the first time she can remember, he angles away from her.
"Roy…did you need to tell me something?" She is catching on to his demeanor and begins to shift uncomfortably, causing the pup in her lap to wiggle at the disturbance.
He clears his throat again and finally moves his eyes to her face but they continue past it, falling on a point just above her left ear. It's a vase of flowers he had given her years ago. They are going out of season and the tips are dry and brown; the stems bend at odd angles and cross and tangle with one another. In their death they fall towards each other in a heap of twisted stems and baby soft petals that collect in the bottom of the vase. As he watches another petal falls. At least, he thinks briefly, they will come back to life. In the spring she will have them to remember me by.
"You would have found this out tomorrow morning but I didn't want it to be a surprise. You're being reassigned to East City for an indeterminable amount of time."
Even with his eyes firmly watching the wall behind her head he can pick up her shock. The sharp breath she draws in does not go past him either. He knows her too well. Without averting his eyes Roy knows that she brushes her bangs in a futile attempt to move them from her face and that there are three lines in her furrowed brow and that she grips the arm of the couch in frustration. The dog whimpers at the sudden change in her composure.
"What? Why? Can't you talk to them? I won't be able to do my job from the east, Roy. I'm sure there's -"
"I put in the request, Riza. I don't need you here anymore." His voice is firm and final and he meets her eyes just in time to see the storm. In the seconds before her hand makes contact with his cheek he sees in her golden eyes an impossible rush of emotions – confusion, despair, love, rage. The slap stings but the pain is nothing compared to what the look in her eyes does to his heart.
"Are you insane?"
"It's for the best."
"Do you have any idea what you've done?"
"I'm sure it won't be so bad."
"If you could fucking hear yourself right now."
"There's really no need for all of that Riza."
"The hell there isn't! Roy, do you understand what you've done?"
They are a flurry of black and blonde and screams and wild gestures. Neither notices that they have gotten progressively louder or that they have risen from the sofa and are mere inches from each other. For a moment Roy forgets his plan to distance himself from her and his eyes fall to her lips as they tear him apart, spewing his deepest emotions at him without a care in the world. He can feel her start to follow his gaze and he swiftly attempts to regain control of the situation, slamming his fist onto her coffee table.
"Dammit Riza will you just shut up and let me keep you safe."
The next insult she has poised on her lips, ready to hurl at him, slides down her tongue and sticks in her throat. They are both sweating, chests heaving in sync. Riza hiccups lightly, her resolve crumbling as her knees give out beneath her and she reclaims her seat on the couch amidst a squeal of springs. The silence that follows their outburst is suffocating and Roy folds under it as well, sinking to the sofa and collecting her in his arms as she leans into him.
"I don't need you to protect me," she mumbles into his shoulder.
His grip tightens and he dips his head so his lips can brush her cheek. "I promised that I would. It's just too dangerous here right now. If anything happened to you..."
She pulls back and tilts her head up to look him in the eyes. The stony face he had plastered on when he first arrived has melted away and she can finally see the apprehension in his expression. She wants to kiss the concern from his face and take him in her arms and reassure him that it will be alright. She wants him to understand that no matter what she will always be with him, because he needs her and she can't stand the thought of not seeing him every day. She wants to run away with him and spend her days lying naked in his arms watching the sun rise, away from the chaos of Central and whatever is unfolding there but she knows they can't do that. Instead she pulls away from him.
"Don't you get it, Roy? Don't you understand yet? I don't care about danger; I care about keeping you alive and able to do your job. That was my promise. And if something happened to you and I wasn't there to stop it-"
The strangled cry that tries to tear through her stops short of her lips and she clamps a shaking hand over her mouth. He watches her intensely as she struggles to compose herself and fight off visions of him mangled and mutilated and helpless, the same visions that haunt her dreams at night. The moment passes quickly and she is back to being the impassive Second Lieutenant he needs by his side and not the woman that he wants. When she speaks again, her voice is a growl.
"Call it off, Roy. Whatever you've done, undo it. You and I are in this together until the very end. And then, and only then, if you still want me gone, I'll go."
Riza is pleased at the pained look that crosses his face because now they have both hurt each other. She waits silently, expectantly, while he studies her and slowly places a light hand on her cheek.
"Never."
In his voice is such conviction, such passion that she cannot help the tears that spring to her eyes or the kiss she plants on his lips. He stiffens at the initial contact but melts into it gradually, pulling her close as they explore each other with lips and hands. Roy breaks the kiss and gives her a questioning look.
"Please," she breathes desperately and this time he does not hesitate before drawing her back to him before lifting her from the couch and making a destructive journey to her bedroom, running into walls and tipping tables and tugging at clothes.
They are rushed and urgent and thoughtless until the very last moment when he intertwines his fingers with hers and lifts them above her head before taking the first plunge. They move in sync and breathe in sync and moan in sync and their eyes never diverge when they finish in sync. As they lay in the afterglow, breathless and sated and intertwined, her head rests on his chest as he tries to commit every minute detail of her body to memory. The clock ticks noisily on the wall and smiles menacingly down at them. It is almost three a.m.
It is she who admits they must part finally and they reluctantly untangle themselves from the sheets and avoid looking at one another as they adjust themselves. They move downstairs in silence and he stops her in the hall before he leaves, away from the windows, and gives her another light kiss, effectively conveying his thoughts to her through the contact. He wants her to know that he loves her and he won't part from her and that they will finish what they started. And then they will run away together. Then and only then.