A/N: Happy Royai Day! I don't normally agree with the pairing name, but for the sake of continuity, I'll let it slide just this once. ;P Just a little something sweet for a special, special June 11th.

I'm Still Here

He snuck a sidelong glance at the reflections passing in the window on their left, specifically at the one of the blonde young woman trailing him by a pace. Her expression was distant, brown eyes watching the sidewalk without really seeing it as she walked, lost in her own thoughts. Roy's favourite game of self-amusement was to watch her and try to figure out just what she was thinking about.

As far as he knew, he was the only one that could guess at her mood, and be consistently right. At least, in the six months he'd known her, he'd never seen anyone else demonstrate that particular ability. Riza Hawkeye was a very difficult person to figure out.

Abruptly, her head came up; apparently she'd been paying attention to her surroundings after all. "We have to cross here; the post office is on the other side of the street," she said quietly, one hand catching hold of his sleeve as she stopped. Almost off-balance, Roy took a quick step back. Righting himself, he gestured to the street.

"If you say so. Ladies first."

She stepped off the curb, looking up at the only traffic approaching; a horse-drawn cart still far enough away for them to cross safely. Roy paused for a brief second to study her from the back. It struck him as odd that even on a warm day like this, she wore a high-collared shirt. Still, the way it tapered at her waist and flared at her hips was enough to attract his attention, and away from the house, he didn't have to worry about Master Hawkeye noticing.

He stepped off the curb after her . . . and the calm summer afternoon was abruptly shattered. Further down the street, a car parked in front of the flower shop gave vent to an ear-splitting bang. The tired old horse pulling the approaching cart was suddenly on high alert; it gave a panicked whinny and threw itself forward in the shafts, barrelling forward along the street.

Directly in its path, frozen in place by shock, was Riza.

For a long, agonizing second, Roy watched his hand reaching out toward her, felt every millimetre that his eyes widened in horror as he realized what was about to happen. The cart drew closer in his peripheral vision . . . closer . . . closer . . . .

In the next instant, he grabbed the back of Riza's shirt and pulled, yanking her back from the street and turning to put himself between her and the frightened horse's path. He heard her cry out, felt two hands grip his shirtfront even as he wrapped one arm around her shoulders, his other hand protectively on the back of her head.

Wind whipped his hair around his head and he squeezed his eyes shut, half-expecting a sudden impact that would tear him away from the girl in his arms and send him skidding across the cobblestones. A deafening rattle as the cart went by . . . and suddenly, the danger was past.

Cautiously, Roy opened his eyes, lifting his head to look down the street at the receding cart. The driver was pulling on the reins, gradually slowing the horse from its hysterical outburst.

". . . What happened?"

Riza's voice was quiet; she still held on to his shirt, staring down the street at the cart. Roy was suddenly acutely aware of the small body pressed against his, and fought back a blush. "A tire on that car up there must have blown in the heat. Scared the horse so badly that it just took off." He leaned back to look at her. "Are you okay?"

She nodded, giving him a shy smile. "I'll be fine. Thanks for pulling me out of the way."

Mouth suddenly dry, he shrugged modestly. "No problem. My aunt always told me to be a gentleman; this counts, right?"

Slowly, Riza dropped her grasp on his shirt, and took a step backward from him. "Sure. It counts."

Carefully checking the street one last time, they hurried across, making it safely to the other side without incident. Riza didn't seem as inclined to be quiet as usual, not after her scare; for the first time in six months, she started a new topic of conversation.

"What does your aunt think about you becoming an alchemist?"

Roy snorted quietly, with a rueful smile. "She says I'm a dreamer, that I'm naïve for my own good. Booksmart, not streetsmart." He shoved his hands into his pockets. "She'd love to see me do just about anything else. Doctor, lawyer . . . even run a business, like her. But then again . . . ." He grinned. "It's not about what she wants, is it. It's what I want."

At first, he'd been disappointed, that Master Hawkeye didn't consider him trustworthy enough to pass on the secrets of Flame Alchemy. Roy had tried his best to convince him that he only intended good . . . but then again, Master Hawkeye had always been stubborn.

Maybe he'd just been unable to see a difference between the boy he'd taught, and the young man who'd returned in a military uniform.

He would have felt abandoned as a student if it hadn't been for Riza. He knew now why she'd always worn high-collared shirts, why she avoided her father like the plague. He also knew what it must have taken for her to decide to trust him . . . but that didn't make it any less awkward.

The papers scattered on the low table in front of him were covered in pieces of code, deciphered from Master Hawkeye's last works. Roy looked up, fighting back an uncharacteristic blush at the sight of the young woman's back across from him. Light from the fireplace danced across the ridges of her spine and shoulderblades, seeming to make the lines of the intricate tattoo shift.

"This is just weird," he muttered, looking back to the notes. "I keep feeling like your father's about to burst through the door and demand what we're doing."

"We're not children," Riza answered tonelessly. "There's no reason we can't behave like adults about this." He lifted his eyes just in time to see her shoulders move as she snugged her arms tighter across her chest, betraying her own discomfort. "This is completely academic."

He grimaced, hearing his own guilt in her voice. What kind of girl sat with no shirt in the same room with a man that had no real right to see her like that? Roy looked at the clock, then tossed his pencil down and got to his feet. He shrugged out of his jacket as he came around the end of the table and draped the rough fabric over Riza's shoulders.

"It's late," he said quietly. "We should sleep." She looked up at him, and in the room's flickering light, the dark circles under her eyes that he'd noticed earlier were suddenly more pronounced. ". . . You have been sleeping, right?"

Riza winced at his observation, turning her face away. "Not as well as I could have been. The house just feels . . . strange, knowing he's not here. Like it's empty."

Smiling, Roy helped her to stand as she held the jacket closed. "Hey, you still have me, don't you? I can stay for a while, until you're comfortable."

"You can't stay that long," Riza said softly, eyes steady on one of the buttons on his shirt. "The military only gave you three weeks' leave."

"I've still got two weeks left," he said firmly. "Two weeks to decode Master's research and find a way to employ it that will make sure I pass the State Alchemist exam.

"And if I can manage that much," he added, tone softening, "then I can at least make sure you'll be all right before I have to go."

Riza didn't answer, merely nodded. On an impulse, Roy stepped close, wrapping both arms around her shoulders. She turned her head, pressing her cheek against his chest. Neither spoke, simply taking comfort in the presence of another person. Roy rested his chin on the top of her head, staring off into the shadows at the edge of the room.

All this was going to be gone the minute he was deployed, he knew. This quiet, this sense of peace and that everything was going to be fine. But if he could gather in all that was happening right now, and keep it locked away somewhere in his memory, maybe it wouldn't be so bad.

One small hand slid out from inside the jacket to touch his chest, and he smiled. Even a week ago, getting caught in a position like this would have been a real danger, but now was a different story. Nestled against his, Riza's body was a perfect fit, one that just felt right.

At last, she shifted in his arms, shaking him out of his thoughts as she tilted her face up to look at him. "You said we should sleep," she reminded him.

"I know."

Feet remained on the spot, though she lifted slightly onto her toes to plant a kiss on his cheek. "Thanks for being here."

Dark eyes watched the brown ones just inches away. "Thanks for trusting me with your back."

Riza barely had the split-second to say 'Anytime' before his lips found hers. Her hand on his chest curled to grip his shirt as his fingers threaded themselves through the short blonde hair at the back of her head. For a brief second, Roy was acutely aware that, underneath the jacket, his hand was directly over the centre of her tattoo. He could feel her heartbeat speed up, resonating in time with his own.

They finally broke for air, breathing audible in the otherwise silent room, foreheads touching and eyes still closed. With this sort of proximity, Roy knew that when he finally had to leave, the guilt he felt in seeing Riza's bare back would turn into guilt at leaving her behind.

Her fingers snapped the last closure of his jacket together, brown eyes studying him intently. Roy stood straight and still, waiting until her inspection was finished, staring over the top of her head. Lost in his own thoughts, he almost jumped when she spoke.

"You seem nervous."

Smiling ruefully, he ran a hand back through his hair. "You picked up on that, huh?"

The ghost of a smile caused Riza's lower lip to twitch. "Of course I did. I know you well enough to know when something's bothering you."

It had taken a while, but a bond had formed. It started awkwardly, as he tried to decipher the information encoded on her back, but his success had brought them onto an even keel. The fires he started in Ishval tempered the relationship when she joined him there. To be able to lean on each other again had added to it, and now, Roy had found a way to keep her close.

He moved one shoulder in a half-shrug. "The last time I was in front of this many people, I was graduating the military academy. That was a thirty-second walk across a stage, not standing at attention for half an hour while people watch. All that time, they're just staring . . . . It's a little intimidating."

Riza's hands lifted to his jacket again, on the pretext of straightening his collar, but her fingers brushed purposefully against his cheek. "You'll be just fine," she assured him. "You survived the war; you can survive this. And I'll keep an eye on you."

He set the photograph, and its memory of that moment, aside with a shake of his head; where was she now? Practically under Bradley's lock and key. Except for that brief minute in his office, two days ago, she'd been kept so busy that all he saw of her was a flicker of blonde hair as she turned a distant corner in the halls of Central Command.

Still, he wasn't without options. Chalk from his pocket traced a transmutation circle on the building rooftop; a blue glow suffused the lines as his hands touched it, and stone flowed out over the two-metre gap between the structures.

Silent as a shadow, he crossed to the next roof over, and disappeared into the stairwell. His heart pounded as he descended to the second floor, and moved along the hallway. He still had her spare key, he only hoped that no one would notice what he'd done to the roof before he had a chance to make sure she was all right.

Unlocking the door, he slipped inside the dark apartment. Black Hayate gave a quiet yap, but settled down when he saw just who his mistress's visitor was. Roy crouched, holding a hand out to the half-grown pup. "Hey, boy, good to see you," he whispered. "Is she here?"

The little dog turned away, trotting toward the bed on the apartment's far side; his eyes adjusting to what little light there was, Roy just made out the shape under the blanket, blonde hair scattered across the pillow. He locked the door and slipped across the room.

He settled on the edge of the bed, reaching out to put a cautious hand on her shoulder. All at once, Riza exploded into motion, her hand flashing out from underneath the pillow to aim a loaded revolver at his face. Roy jerked backward, one arm lifting in reflexive self-defense.

"Whoa! Take it easy!"

Brown eyes widened, the gun dropping to her lap. ". . . . What are you doing here?"

He grinned. "What, you thought the two goons following you around could keep me away?" Movement caught his attention; her finger twitching slightly on the trigger. ". . . You can put that away. I wasn't followed."

"One of the Homonculi is a shapeshifter," she said flatly, expression distrustful. "How do I know you're not him?"

Thinking for a minute, Roy finally came up with an answer. "No Homonculus could know what the words 'dies illa, dies irae' mean, much less where they come from." He lifted one eyebrow. "But just in case, I'd like some proof of my own."

She smiled. "When I asked you to burn my back, your exact words were 'I could never do such a thing.'" Shaking her head, Riza set the gun aside. "Sneaking in here even though it could get one or both of us killed . . . I'm beginning to think you're insane."

"Then why didn't you shoot me?" Moving closer, he gathered her to him, resting his chin on her shoulder. Her arms slipped around his waist, her hair tickling his nose as he buried his face in it. "Bradley won't do anything to you; not yet. He knows that he needs you in order to keep me in line."

"I could say the same for you," she murmured. "You're all that's stopping me from walking into his office and shooting him at his desk."

"Hey, that's a really nice desk. Don't get blood on it and ruin it."

She gave a soft 'huh' of not-quite laughter. "Say that again when you're the one sitting behind it."

He left an hour later, after they'd talked, exchanging whatever information they had. Roy took his time climbing back to the roof, feeling like there was some invisible rope tied around him that was doing its level best to drag him back to that small apartment on the second floor.

Out in the night air, he stared at the little makeshift bridge he'd created earlier . . . and made his decision. Another transmutation circle, and the stone flowed toward him. It wasn't perfect, and anyone on the roof of either building would know an alchemist had been tampering around, but this temporary measure would ensure he was safe for tonight. He would fix it in the morning before he left.

Turning, Roy returned to the stairwell, barely bothering to keep his footsteps quiet. He was determined to spend whatever remained of the night holding on to the one person in this world that had the ability to make everything right. As right as it felt when her body was against his.