Disclaimer: I don't own FMA. I do own Addy, Bianca, and all the random side characters you haven't met before.

Notes: Guess what! It's only been about a week and I've finished this chapter already! How on-time am I (for once)? This chapter just came so easily that it was like it had a life of its own. I've spent weeks - no - months (because it was started before the Sylvia chapter) planning out some parts of this one, and finally I'm able to put it out of my head and say "It's been written - now I can work on the next thing." I've got an idea I'm working on for the next chapter, so we'll see how that goes, now I'm finished with the flashback section.

Chapter Ten: In Which Justice Is Served

The case was a nightmare, in Roy's opinion. The judge had agreed to bar the press from the courtroom, but every time he and Riza arrived or left, cameras were flashing and questions were being shouted at them. Their lawyer – a quick-talking man named Harvey – led them through the mob with the accuracy and purpose of a seeing-eye dog. Harvey would sit them down in the morning each time they had to be at court, telling them what today was going to be like, and afterwards he'd tell them how it went, and why this reaction wasn't a terrible thing after all, and why that one was, but he could still fix things.

Roy was one hundred percent certain that the case would have proceeded much further in only a short amount of time if it hadn't been for the opposition's main argument.

"How can you be sure," Emlyn's lawyer asked, "that the sex was not consensual? Mrs. Mustang has admitted that she and her husband were arguing. She herself stated that my client invited her to dinner, and that she accepted. She made the decision, once in his apartment, not to call for a taxi straight away, but to stay longer. Who, but the two present, can tell you what really happened? There are no witnesses to the contrary; as far as we who weren't there know, this could merely be a case of buyer's remorse that Mrs. Mustang is trying to pass off as rape to disprove her infidelity."

The woman was a calculating harpy – not that Roy was biased, by any chance. Ms. Samson was tall, and used that to look down her nose at people as she spoke, giving him the impression of a school-teacher telling off her pupils for misbehaving. If her manner was cowing the jury at all, Roy was sure that Harvey's assuring banter and well-timed medical witnesses put them at rest.

Nevertheless, Roy tried to block out the explanations of Riza's bruised inner-thighs, dislocated wrist, and the almost-perfect handprint bruising on her hip accompanied by gouges from nails. Instead he glowered at the back of the head belonging to the man who had done that to her. Thank goodness all the hospital's tests had come back negative. Riza avoided Emlyn Greed's eye the whole time, but Roy saw the man's eyes flicker in her direction more than once, in a bored sort of contemplation.

It had been quite a while between the interview with the police and the arraignment, and even longer between the arraignment and the trial. Roy had been told that it was because Greed had been such a slippery character. He seemed always just out of reach, and even when he was arrested, he managed to stall everything a few more weeks with his doubletalk. Harvey said that it was good for Riza's case – it gave him longer to prepare. Normally the defence tried to work fast, so that any slips in the victim's story could be used against them, but Greed seemed unconcerned.

Roy had recognised the man when he saw him. He was that one from the soccer match, when Riza had sent Edward in to get Roy. Just as when Roy had met him then, when Roy and Riza first entered the courtroom Emlyn Greed gave an interested smile. Roy had glared at the man. Riza didn't even look up.

When Ms. Samson introduced the consensual sex idea – Harvey had actually warned them that she'd take that angle – Roy's blood boiled. He had heard of women pretending to have been molested to cover up for their own mistakes before, but Riza was not one of those women. She was strong, and responsible, and – despite his faults – loyal. She would not stoop to something as immature as blaming someone else for a slip like this. Not when it could land an innocent man in prison. Whatever else his wife was, she was not unjust.

Roy came home from court that day, for the first time honestly not knowing whether Greed would be sent to prison or not.

As he lay in bed that night, trying to sleep, Riza stirred beside him. He opened an eye curiously when she shimmied closer to him. For a moment, she hovered by his side, watching him in the moonlight with those sharp eyes of hers. He gave a questioning mumble to show he was awake if she needed to say anything.

A hand landed softly on his chest, and both of his eyes had opened by the time she lunged forwards to place her lips on his. He responded bemusedly as her hand fisted in his singlet, but when she started creeping over him, he scooted back and sat up. Riza rocked back, sitting half on the bed and half on his knee, a haunted expression on her face.

"Ri, what are you doing? . . . Are you alright?" he asked, reaching out to stroke her hair. "What's happening?" He was almost as surprised by his action as he was by the fact that she didn't move away from it.

Instead, she took a hold of his wrist and pulled herself towards him with it. "Please, Roy?" she asked, watery eyes silently pleading with him. "I can't stand it – I really can't."

He frowned, not understanding what she was talking about.

"Just . . . knowing he's the last one to have touched me. Roy, please. I don't want to let him keep that part of me." She eased forward, watching for his reaction.

Eventually, it was him who reached up to pull her the rest of the way forwards. He understood what she was saying. It disgusted him too, knowing that man had touched his wife in a way that Roy himself hadn't dared for years. It felt strange, like re-exploring a place he used to know where he wasn't sure if he was still welcome, but if Riza said that this was going to help her, he wasn't going to tell her to back off.

Every day that they returned to the court, wondering what proof was going to be offered next, Roy was sure that this would be the day everyone came to their senses. He was just waiting for someone to stand up and say to all of the people "Hey, everyone, that man is a rapist!" When it did happen, it wasn't quite as he expected.

Greed was winning. Harvey didn't tell them, but from the smug look on Ms. Samson's face, and the thoughtful nods her speech and questions got from the jury, Roy could tell. Harvey seemed to be doing fine, but . . . the concrete evidence just "wasn't good enough".

Then, for no reason that Roy could perceive, Greed stood up and announced that he wanted to change his plea of Not Guilty.

Harvey stopped talking mid-sentence. Riza's eyes widened and her jaw clenched. Roy gaped at the man.

Ms. Samson's head whipped around, and from the expression on her face, she was as shocked as everyone else was. "Ahh, Your Honour – could I have a moment with my client?" she finally asked in clipped tones.

The judge paused, looking at Greed for a moment, and announced a short recess.

Harvey spent the time telling the Mustangs that there was still a chance Ms. Samson would talk Greed out of it. They were not to get too excited about this, because in the case that she convinced him, there was still a lot of work to be done. If, however, he maintained this change of plea, there would be nothing else to worry about.

As court came back in session Ms. Samson entered stone-faced, a perfectly amenable Greed following behind her.

The judge addressed her, and Ms. Samson stood, one fist knuckles-down on the table, to say in a stiff voice, "My client would like to change his plea from 'Not Guilty' to 'Guilty'."

Roy didn't know whether to feel jubilant or cheated. He was glad that the man was going to be put away for what he'd done, but his surrender was almost a let-down when he could have been caught, and a decisive victory would have been many times sweeter.

While Roy was sitting in ambivalence, Riza quietly thanked Harvey for all his work. Even from where he sat, Roy could hear the uncertainty in her voice.

Outside the courthouse reporters swamped them. Roy took Riza's hand, and Harvey put one of his hands on her shoulder so that they wouldn't be separated by the crowd. They stopped this time, so that Harvey could give a brief comment on how justice had been served. Roy heard Riza's name, and his own from many voices, and questions being directed towards them. He kept quiet, and Harvey managed to expand his comment to include Riza – "My client is just happy to see this man behind bars."

Then they escaped the throng, leaving behind all that had happened there.

Roy discovered the business card in the trash. He wasn't rummaging through the bin – the card was just lying there on top of everything when he went to put some of his own rubbish in there.

'Dr. Sara Chapman', it said. 'Clinical Psychologist; 23 Dorian Street, Maryland; Ph.: 0247 601 159; Open Weekdays 9am-7pm, Saturdays 10am-3pm'.

Roy flipped the card over in his hand to see if anything was written on the back, but the other side was blank. Turning it back to the front again, he frowned at the card for a beat before curiously wandering out to search through the house.

After checking both the gym – although it had been in less use since the trial finished – and the living room, Roy found Riza in the lounge room, her feet curled up beneath her on the lounge, and totally absorbed with one of her latest books. One hand tugged absently at her ponytail as she read through.

When Roy called her name to get her attention, she turned her head towards the doorway he stood in, while her eyes continued to move over the page. "Mmm?"

"Riza, what was this doing in the trash?"

She blinked and looked up at him, eyes focussing on the card he waved. A dark cloud came over Riza's face. "I don't need it, and I'm not in the habit of keeping rubbish," she said in matter-of-fact tones. She turned back to her book, sliding her feet out from underneath her.

Rubbish, was it?

"Do you remember the nurse saying that you should at least go and get checked out?" Roy asked. He walked out of the doorway to hover over her.

Riza scowled up at him. "I kept the card just in case I needed it, like you said. The whole thing is over now, and I haven't needed professional help this whole time. I still don't."

"Look, you might not need it now, but who knows how much time could pass before you decide you should talk to someone about this," Roy reasoned. "It'd be better to have the card of someone you can trust at hand."

"Fine." Riza shrugged uncomfortably. "Keep the card if you want."

"We'll see how this goes. Ri . . ." Roy paused, putting a hand on her arm. "I'm not trying to be argumentative. I just want to know that there'll be someone to help you out if you need it."

Her gaze softened and she put the hand not holding her book on top of his. "I know. I just don't like involving other people in our business. You know what they can be like, sometimes."

"Yeah, I do." He bent down to kiss her, and she patted him on the cheek, giving a small smile before looking back at her book.

True to his word, when Roy returned from training the next day, he brought the subject up again.

"I think that now's the time to start seeing a professional, Riza," he told her after showering.

She was sitting on the rug in the nursery, playing with a wide-eyed Bianca. The little girl was laying back against some cushions, kicking her legs softly and reaching out for the various toys her mother showed her. A pudgy hand grabbed at the soft giraffe that stopped wiggling in the air when Riza turned around.

"I told you, we've spoken about this before," she said, relinquishing the animal.

"Yes, we put it off because at the time you were doing well. Now, you're having nightmares most weeks, and you're still not comfortable waiting for more than five minutes after my games."

He was quite aware of the reasons for her new-found quirks, and although he didn't want to push her to becoming 'well', he thought that her way of trying that was altogether less beneficial in a long-term manner than his way was. A counsellor would be able to uncover what had happened and help her deal with those things properly, rather than just bury them under a happy surface-layer.

Riza didn't reply to him, so Roy joined her on the floor, tickling at Bianca's foot. The girl gave him a gummy smile before chomping down onto the poor giraffe's head.

"Look, I know you think that everything you say to this doctor will get out into the papers somehow, but we spoke to the police about it, and it was brought up in court, too, so everyone in that room heard, but the closest we've had to reporters bothering us is Addy wanting to know what really happened. The only reason a psychologist is allowed to let anyone know about what their patient has told them is if they believe their patient is about to commit a crime, and then the only people they tell that to are the police."

She still didn't speak, instead giving a soft sigh.

"Why won't you talk to someone about this?" he asked, trying to catch her eye.

"Because," she said, finally breaking her silence, "then I'll have to admit it really happened."

Okay, now I'm assuming you're wondering why on earth Emlyn changed his plea. Well, my idea of Greed . . . He wants things, but he's not discriminating as to where he'll get them from. If he becomes curious about something, he'll pursue it until he knows everything about it he can, or (more importantly) until he gets what he wants from it. Also, I don't think Greed holds grudges. Maybe against the Homunculi for imprisoning him, but I think that's warranted. Anyway, I can see Greed becoming bored with a trial that takes too long, and wondering how the charges would affect him. I think if the charges didn't intimidate him, he'd accept them just to get past whatever's happening.

Emlyn's view of Riza is much the same as it was before he raped her, except without the greedy drive behind it. So he thinks of her fondly, and, I suppose, he acquiesces to the charge against him to humour her.

I have a better idea of it in my mind, but I'm finding it hard to put into words. Tell me if that doesn't answer the idea properly.

-Dai