2. Gunshot

The single sound echoes through the streets, and he's running. Panting, shaking, pushing one foot in front of the other, in the direction the gunshot came from, because even though his brain has barely processed what just happened he knows the direction it came from and she's there. Not the sound of a sniper rifle, not the sound he was expecting, something far scarier. His men call his name but he ignores them. They can handle themselves for a second.

He rushes up the abandoned clock tower, promising himself she'll be okay. Behind him, the sound of Havoc's automatic goes off, and above the sound of handgun battle begins. There wasn't supposed to be a handgun battle. How did they know she would be there?

She's going to yell at him for rushing up here like this. He knows that. The gang they've been tracking has proven to be a lot smarter than anyone had anticipated, though, and they found her. While she can certainly handle herself he knows she must be surprised. Surprise is the biggest killer in the military.

His hand is already poised to snap when he flings open the door at the top. She's on the ground, a rifle pressed against her neck, brown eyes flashing at the man in black pressing her to the ground. Her hands are forcing the rifle back bit by leg, and when she works a leg free she kicks ineffectively at his shin.

Roy snaps.

The man in black screams, falling off her, flailing in shock and horror as his eyes are singed out. Riza stays where she is, her eyes hooked on Roy as he steps in, lifting his hand again.

The hairs on the man's head are systematically set on fire, and he screams as each one reaches his scalp. "Stop! Stop! You bastard! You fucking bastard!" That hardly deters Roy, who passes his fire around the man's body, searching for new places to hurt.

Riza steps in front of him, her mouth set in a firm line. Her small hand finds Roy's forearm, and she meets his eyes. "Major General," she says, quietly, "he's more useful alive. Stop."

Roy does stop, his arm hanging useless by his side. He tries to quell the panic that is still eating up his chest. Her eyes hold a mixture of emotions – warm with understanding, but flashing with irritation at the same time.

Below them, the sound of Havoc's automatic stops. "We're all set, Chief!" Havoc calls up. He knows that somewhere nearby, Fuery is recording. When they return, there will be a lot of paperwork.

The man in black has passed out. For a moment, all is quiet, save for the sound of their breathing. She doesn't step back for a long, long moment.


Roy knows it is coming. Havoc is already standing up, stretching, preparing to go. Fuery gets up a moment later. The clock chimes, and they shrug on their coats. Havoc yawns. "Long day, Chief," he murmurs.

"Yeah," Roy responds. His voice is dull. "Get some rest, both of you. We'll have to explain tomorrow."

They leave, shuffling after each other. The door shuts. She waits for only a moment; then Riza sighs, looking at him with exasperation. "How long is this going to continue?"

"I don't know," he responds. He really hates how petulant he sounds. He fully deserves her ire.

She walks around her desk and over to his. He doesn't look at her at first, but then squares his shoulders and lifts his chin. Her hands are crossed in front of her as she regards him. "You're not letting me do my job."

"I know that," he says, still petulant-sounding. He hates being told off. He hates it so much more when he knows he's in the wrong.

"How am I supposed to protect you when-"

"I just-" he interrupts, biting off the words, then pausing, searching for the right ones. "I see it in my head," he says. "Over and over, I see you lying there, blood pooling around, and I can't help it. I panic, and all I can think about is keeping you safe."

Riza sighs again, pinching her nose, and then steps forward. He leans his forehead on her stomach, breathing in the scent of her. "I know," she says. "I have my own memories. Watching you disappear, not knowing if you were safe, seeing what they'd done to you. It's a constant nightmare. But," she says, her hands on either side of his face, tilting his eyes up to meet hers, "we got out of that because we are a team. If we hadn't been, it never would have worked. And we can't be a team if you won't trust me to do my part."

He nods, still breathing her in, and feels himself calm. "I'll work on it," he says.

"Promise?"

"Promise."