Disclaimer: I don't own full metal alchemist and that includes any of the characters mentioned here.

Notes: Thanks to the people who reviewed! Your comments were helpful. And the cookie was nice. It's nice to know I didn't blunder on Hawkeye. As you know, the spotlight's now on Roy. Hopefully, I didn't mess him up.

I now present the second installment.

Crack.

Roy Mustang turned his neck to the side and sighed contently when he heard the crack of his bones. He was bored. Dead bored. His date was leaning comfortably against his left shoulder. Their date was taking place at the theater. But tonight the theater was an opera house. The colonel was too dazed to realize what the tickets were for and now he regretted not looking at them.

His date was currently enraptured in the Shakespearian style of the play. No surprise since it was Macbeth, a tale of royal blood. That's all he really knew. He wasn't one for plays. Especially not ones that involved singing out of nowhere. This was the opera version of Macbeth. And he hated it. The singers were only making his headache worse.

Wasn't the performance supposed to end when the fat lady sings? Roy had seen many fat ladies sing and the performance still didn't end. He covered his mouth while he yawned. This was getting to him. The florist was still caught up in the singing. He decided to wait for her sake. He wasn't a man without manners. Besides, he only had…An hour left.

Wonderful…

He excused himself to his date, not that she was even listening, and walked out of the theater to the men's room. He turned to the mirror and stared at his reflection. Donned in his usual civilian black coat and his military uniform, he appeared quite admirable and handsome. If anyone were to look closer, they would've seen the faint flush on his cheeks. He was ill again. Actually quite prone to fevers.

Third time this month...

He turned on the faucet and let the freezing water run through his hands. He rubbed his face roughly with his wet hands and pushed back his bangs. He hardly looked any different with his bangs over his head. Anyone could mistake that flush on his face to be a blush of pleasure. He hated it. He wasn't in love. It was irritating to have people mistake an illness for something more.

"Hmm…"

Well, he was in love. In a way. There was only one problem; she was the lieutenant. His subordinate. But he was more than sure she didn't cause him to feel so hot as to make him have a full blown fever out of nowhere. He knew it himself; he was horrible when it came to his health. He'd ignore every alarm in his body and even when he ended up like this he still didn't admit anything. At least not to people.

Slam.

The restroom door opened and shut. He didn't look at the person that entered. He had his eyes closed. He could care less about that person. He heard some disturbing sounds and decided that they would interrupt his train of thought. He walked out onto the sidewalk for a more quiet air.

He never admitted things to people unless it was absolutely necessary. But he admitted a lot to himself. He had no one else to admit anything to. He admitted to being a stubborn idiot for getting sick. He admitted he didn't want to go on a date. He admitted he loved only one person but that person was too far and yet too close as well.

Che…

He scoffed inwardly. He didn't like people getting close. Someone would always get hurt. He let Hughes get too close. And look what happened to him. He told Hughes things he never said to anybody else. And while the Lieutenant Colonel was irritating at many times, he was also his best friend. Hughes even took care of his health and it was amazing he had the patience to deal with the flame alchemist.

That's why it came as a shock to find him dead. He was still haunted by that image of Hughes corpse in the telephone booth, blood everywhere and phone hanging by the wire. He had nightmares about that still. And in the beginning, he blamed himself. Blamed himself for not being more involved in things. If he had, he would've been able to punch and talk to his best friend again right now. He blamed himself for letting it happen.

The funeral was painful. His stomach constricted as they buried Hughes. His heart constricted when he heard his best friend's daughter. Her words said more than anybody else could have. Maes Hughes was a busy man. He had a lot of work to do. It hurt to hear Elysia yelling 'papa, papa!' She was too young to know death. Much too young.

Everyone left after the ceremony. But he didn't. He couldn't. Not yet. She was standing behind him. Her presence was comforting. Even as he cursed his friend, she had stayed next to him. Why, he didn't know. Perhaps she thought it was her job. She told him Hughes didn't tell him about anything that involved the Elric brothers because he wanted him to head to the to the top without any worries. He tended to worry too much when it came to those two. He couldn't take it. He pulled his hat down. Made a comment about the rain to draw her attention away. He didn't know whether or not it worked. He supposed it hadn't. Tears silently slid down his face. He didn't want to stop them.

The Lieutenant was comforting sometimes. But sometimes she was just…plain scary. Especially when he didn't do his work until the last minute. Literally. She was the most terrifying person he'd ever met. He only let her boss him around and talk back because she was just too…Horrifying.

But she was also the most beautiful person he'd ever met. She looked graceful with her hair down. But she had to tie it up in that infuriating bun. Maybe it got in the way of her work. He hadn't even realized her hair had grown until she came in with her hair down one day. That was also the same night they were rained in. He asked some unusual things but she never questioned why. He almost wished she had. He had a nagging question that he couldn't quite get out with the correct intent.

He remembered the first day they met. That day was under some questioning circumstances. But she didn't go any deeper into it. Instead, she had woken him up. They met in Ishvar.

He killed two innocent doctors in Ishvar. They did nothing but help people. And he was ordered by Brigadier General Basque Gran to kill them. After, he even planned on killing himself. The gun shook so much under his chin. He was going to pull it when Marco stopped him. Marco was leaving. Running away. He blamed himself for not helping the doctors when he could for he was also a doctor. Marco told him he was only following orders. It was nothing worth dying over.

Later in the tent, he reconsidered the idea on the top bunk. This time he held it to his temple. He hadn't pulled the trigger yet. He didn't know why. It was simple. Pull and after a few seconds of pain everything would go black. But he couldn't do it. He was trembling like mad. His grip was slipping.

And then the tent flapped open. She was standing there. A second later, she knocked the gun away and yanked him down. Not that either of those was hard to do. He was shaking too much to notice. They stared into each other's eyes for a moment and then she slapped him. He recalled the conversation perfectly. Especially the last words.

'Then do something about it.'

The words him harder than any slap could've. He could tell she had finally realized what she'd done and he stopped her with two simple words before she could start. They came out hoarse but soft. He was hoping she heard him.

'Thank you.' He forced himself to stop shaking.

He could tell she heard. She was smiling.

Her smile was beautiful. It was a shame she never smiled often enough. Her smile made him feel hot but he controlled the feeling on his face, making sure he didn't have a tinge of red. The perfect red lips curved upwards into a sweet, sincere smile. She never did it often. Only on very rare times.

Her movement was always graceful. It was like watching an angel dance to the music of a harp. But he knew he was exaggerating. Still, that was what she was to him. An angel. As corny and cliché it was, nothing could've described her better to him.

Their work kept them apart. He had a goal to achieve and she worked to bring him upwards. He wondered what her reaction would be if he ever told her his true feelings. He imagined a perfect image of rejection and then simply hearing his heart shatter to the ground. It was painful just to think about.

Why would she love an idiot like him? It didn't make sense. And he decided not to try. Not to say anything. It would be better for both of them. He would not have to go through more pain and she wouldn't have to feel obligated in any way.

But why does it hurt more now?

At this time, he'd entered the theater again. The play was almost over and he'd returned just in time to see another fat lady singing. Surely it would end now? His date turned to him.

"Where were you?"

"I was in the restroom."

"You missed a great play."

"I'm sure."

They soon left afterwards. He escorted her home as they walked. When she asked to see him again, he couldn't get the words correctly out of his mouth. So he just blurted out the truth like an idiot.

"I love someone else."

The girl stared and glared. "You had a girlfriend and you didn't tell me?"

"She's not exactly a girlfriend…"

"Oh, I get it. You love her but you haven't told her."

He nodded, feeling embarrassed. Was he that easy to read right now? The florist, Grace, would probably slap him or something. It was natural to get hurt after blabbing something like that out of nowhere on the end of a date. One of the worst ways to end a date and he had to do it.

"You should tell her."

That was not what he expected. He turned his head up and Grace was smiling. Genuinely smiling.

"You heard me. Tell her. You'll regret it if you don't."

"I expected you to slap me…"

"Why? Truthfully, you should've just told me. I used to have the same problem. And I'm telling you from experience that you'll regret it if you don't tell her."

"I'm afraid…"

"To get rejected? Don't worry. If you don't say anything, it'll be worse. At least this way, you can get the feelings off your chest. I felt better when I told the guy I used to like that I liked him. But he rejected me. It didn't matter though. At least I got it out."

His blush added to the already faint tinge on his cheeks. He was getting advice from a date. At least she didn't blame him for anything. "Thank you."

The girl shrugged. "Your welcome. By the way, could you give this to that blonde guy with the cigarette? He forgot it." She handed him a wallet which he took and bade the woman good night.

The florist was right. If he didn't say anything, he'd only make it worse for himself. At least if he told her, he would know whether or not she was the one. He swallowed. He felt dazed. Tonight was definitely not a good night to go out. And she had to dump all that work on him before his date. All that work made his head pound against his skull harder.

He didn't know when he would tell her. Preferably a time where he could think clearly. Fevers tended to fog the mind. Being the flame alchemist was probably not a good thing. It felt like his flames were trying to cook him from the inside. And yet he felt cold on the outside. He was probably going to fall flat on his face if he didn't get home quick.

Just a few more blocks…

He was about to turn the corner of third and fifth when suddenly he stopped. He was about to walk straight into someone. He was about to excuse himself when he saw whom that someone was. The two stared at each other without moving. Each as surprised as the other. They continued to stand in stunned silence.

I don't think the third will be up tomorrow. Maybe the day after tomorrow. It all depends on the time. I don't want to rush this because rushed things turn out worse than something thought out clearly.