Author's Note: I've tried to fill in some of Riza's blanks in the Brotherhood/manga timeline. The most interesting part of the Royai dynamic, to me, is how she is outwardly Roy's bodyguard, but I think it's pretty clear that behind closed doors he holds her together. He's the only one who knows about her tattoo, difficult childhood, and what her time in Ishval cost her. Plus I'm sure he feels super guilty about literally EVERYTHING.

The FMA wiki states that it's unclear whether the tattoo on her back was done with/without Riza's consent. Here's my two cents: there's no way that could ever be consensual. She was afraid of her father and their relationship was strained, at best. How could she have ever said no? Berthold Hawkeye was a known madman and recluse. And even if she "agreed" it wouldn't have been because she wanted it, but most likely because abuse victims usually choose the path of least resistance when confronted by their abuser. When that abuser is a parent, the horror of it is amplified and choices become less and less real.

I can't really get behind a "young Royai" ship because I just don't see it, and the age difference kind of creeps me out. Berthold would have never allowed such a thing, and would have sent Roy packing if he'd even gotten a whiff of it. The body language in the anime scene (FMA:B) where Riza reveals her back to him, and the funeral shortly before did not indicate a previous romantic relationship. Or really any kind of deep friendship. I actually doubt Riza spent much time at home at all as a child and would have looked for any excuse to make herself scarce. Her father having an apprentice (distraction) must have been such a relief. Just my opinion.

At this point I can't say how many chapters will be included. This isn't a heavy plot fic. More of a character exploration. Just the good bits ;)

Disclaimer: I do not own Fullmetal Alchemist in any of it's incarnations.

Thank you so much to xserpx on tumblr for giving me a much needed canon check on this. Without her, I think this fic wouldn't have made it past the "ideas I'll never finish because I have no friends in this fandom" stage.

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Relief overwhelmed her. It was finally over. After all the years of wondering what sort of madness would come next, it was over. Her father was dead, and Riza felt lighter. For the rest of her life she'd carry the heavy secrets of his research, but at least it was her life. She had a future. She had choices.

At the modest funeral she was startled by how much Roy had grown up. Of course, Riza knew she'd grown, as well, but Roy appeared all at once a dashing young soldier, and the studious boy who'd spent years hunched over her father's books as his apprentice. With idealistic fervor, he spoke of a world made better by alchemy and the military; she couldn't help but be swept away.

She'd miscalculated his reaction to the tattoo. Riza'd had a year to come to terms with the markings, and manner in which they'd been made. After the scabs had healed and the bandages removed, she'd put the whole experience in a box, and not touched it since. Her father slipped into a frightening passivity after its completion, and Riza had spent the following two semesters at school without a holiday.

When she slid her blouse from her shoulders and revealed the array, Riza could feel the anger emanating from Roy. He pulsed with it.

"I always knew the old man was cruel, Riza, but gods," he breathed. "This… this is… I'm so sorry." The guilty sorrow in his voice stung her. She didn't want his pity. She wanted his promise that he'd make it all worth something.

"What's done is done, Roy. He's dead." She kept her eyes on the wall in front of her. "Can you decipher the array? Please tell me you meant everything you said before."

His fingers were cool on her back as they traced the lines, and arcs of the tattoo. She felt his breath on her skin, and stood in silence as he inspected the last works of Berthold Hawkeye. The yellow glow of the lamp was the only light left in the room when Riza felt Roy gently drape her blouse back over her shoulders. Quickly buttoning it closed, she turned to him.

Roy stared at the wood planked floor; his expression reminiscent of the one she remembered when he'd been learning a particularly difficult alchemic subject. "The lettering is very small, and some of these symbols I've never seen before. The things he held back from me…" He stuffed his hands in his pockets, and finally leveled his gaze. "I'll need to make a copy-"

She cut him off, "No."

Their eyes locked, and a wordless back and forth ensued. After a long moment, Roy sighed and nodded. No copies. Not ever.

"I'll… Riza this is not going to be something I can pick up in an afternoon. I need to study the array. There're so many notes, and it'll take some time. Are you comfortable with that?"

She nodded. This was her choice. She could not control the tattoo's existence, but she had to make it all mean something. Otherwise, her entire childhood was… what? The madness had to be the means to a better end. It had to.

For the first time, and certainly not the last, Riza Hawkeye trusted Roy Mustang completely.

1 9 0 8

When the city shuddered, and exploded in flame, Riza knew. In her heart, she knew without a doubt it was Roy, or Major Mustang as they called him now. She wanted to be angry with him, to feel betrayed. He was using the secrets etched in her back to commit genocide. The very secrets he'd promised to use only to help people.

She couldn't hate him, though. Not any more than she could hate herself. Wasn't she using her honed skills to murder innocents, as well? Riza made no excuses; she knew every time she focused her eyes down the scope of her rifle, someone would die. Someone who'd done nothing more criminal than being born Ishvalan.

Worst of all, was that her father had been right. The military had done exactly as Master Hawkeye predicted when presented with a weapon like Roy. He was nothing more than a gun in a holster. At least, Riza thought bitterly, he didn't have to see the faces of everyone he killed. That was her penance.

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Riza trembled. Memories of the night her father entered her room holding a nearly burned down candle clouded her mind. The wild resolve on his face had struck her with a helpless terror she'd hoped to never feel again.

When Roy touched her, finally, she flinched. He didn't ask her if she was sure, he'd understood the hardness in her gaze. The ferocity in her demand hadn't left him room to say no. Even if she didn't blame him for what he'd done with his flames, she couldn't- wouldn't allow anyone else to wield such a power. And damn it he would make sure of it.

"Here," he whispered as his finger grazed the markings on her shoulder blade, "and here." His touch dipped lower and traced the skin of her lower back. "I can destroy these sections, and the rest will be indecipherable. I'll have to go deep to be sure it's covered with scar tissue."

She didn't open her eyes until he stepped around her. His face was even more terrible in the dim light of the tent, but the concerned intensity she found there was unexpected. Riza's experience with determined men had left her valuing her own logic and level-headedness more than any other survival tool, but Roy was different. He wanted nothing from her she wasn't willing to give. Even now she still couldn't regret showing him her secrets. He was a good man, and it had been her choice.

His hands cupped her shoulders, and he didn't disguise his sadness as he brought her into a tight embrace. She turned her face into his neck, it was a small indulgence but she would take it. When he pulled away, and their eyes met she foolishly wanted to kiss him. Perhaps any other man, and any other woman would be allowed such things.

His thumbs caressed her cheeks, and he touched his forehead to hers. "Riza," Roy whispered hoarsely, his lips hovering dangerously close.

Tears stung her eyes, and, "Please," was all she could choke out. He had to burn her now. If he didn't, they'd both lose their nerve. Roy hadn't let her go, but instead threaded his fingers through her hair, and pressed his lips to her cheek. They lingered, and Riza felt a thousand unspoken words in a single breath.

It was the memory of Roy's kiss that kept her from screaming.