A/N: Hello everyone! I should be finalizing tomorrow's chapter of Winter's Bane, but this story hasn't been able to leave me alone. Thankfully, it broke my writer's block (benefitting all my in-progress work) so I can't complain. This is almost fully written, but mostly unedited, so updates should be relatively consistent. Please let me know what you think! I took a chance and went with a different writing style for this one.
"Careful, Lieutenant!"
Roy's voice sounds out across the empty warehouse. She cannot see him, the smoke from his flames filling the air, but she heeds his warning.
They had chased a group of human traffickers to their headquarters in the southern warehouse district. The fight had been nasty and violent and Roy was forced to resort to alchemy stronger than he preferred to use within the city limits.
"Hawkeye! Behind you!"
She turns just in time to see three men swarming her, weapons ready and aimed at her chest. Before she can fire her own, one of them trips her, kicking the gun out of her hands and pinning her to the ground before she can reach into her holster for another.
"You're coming with us, missy," he says menacingly. "Do you realize the price we can get on a woman like you?"
Riza tries to fight, but he is too strong. She kicks her legs desperately before one of his accomplices pins them down, effectively rendering her immobile. She tries to scream, but a rag has been shoved down her throat during their struggle.
"I'm giving you three seconds to let her go," Roy's voice yells out. Riza shudders at the sound. She has rarely heard him so angry and she's in awe at the raw power behind his warning. "Three.. Two.. one.."
Simultaneously, a loud 'crack' rings out in perfect synchrony with a gunshot. The enemy pinning her legs releases her as he lets out an agonizing scream. From her limited viewpoint, it is obvious that he has caught fire. She should have sympathy- burning alive is one of the worst ways to go- but all she can focus on is her immediate survival.
With the loss of his weight, she is able to resume thrashing underneath her remaining captor. Roy's flames begin to surround them and Riza can feel sweat grace her brow. Despite the flame's proximity, she trusts him completely that he will burn everything around her, but leave her unscathed.
Another crack sounds through the air and, finally, her remaining captor flinches as he is licked with flames. Riza uses the small break in his grip to throw him off her, spitting out the rag in her mouth and choking for air before standing up and pulling out the remaining weapon in her holster. She shoots him straight through the eyes. His body drops instantly.
She only has a moment of reprieve before the third and final assailant reveals himself from the shadows and lunges at her. Riza struggles to remain upright as his bodyweight slams into her. She stumbles, falling back, only registering that she is immediately next to a window a moment too late. The glass crashes around her and her stomach flips as she falls from the second story straight to the ground, the assailant's arms still around her waist. They land with a hard thud and the wind is knocked straight out of her chest. Another gunshot rings and she knows without looking that Havoc, hidden from sight above, has shot the man lying on her. The metallic smell of blood begins to overwhelm her senses as she fights to push his dead weight off of her. A sharp pain invades her right arm and she cries out shortly after freeing herself.
"Lieutenant!" Roy yells as he runs towards her, eyes wide with panic. "Are you okay?" He kneels beside her as he sits up.
"Yeah, I'm fine." She winces and knows he noticed. "Are you okay? I heard a gunshot."
"My flames startled him. Missed me by a mile," Roy says reassuringly. "You're wincing. Are you sure you're alright?"
"On second thought, I might have broken my arm during the fall. And the targets?"
"All dead." His voice has no remorse. "One burned alive, one shot by yourself and the last by Havoc."
Riza moves to stand but Mustang places a firm hand on her shoulder. "No. Sit and rest. The medics will be here shortly. I want you to see a doctor to find out if your arm is broken. That was quite a fall, Hawkeye."
Riza nods, her pain overwhelming her ability to protest his order.
"Fucking bastards… who are they to think they can touch you like that?" Havoc says as he walks over to join his commanding officers, gun slung over his shoulder. "You okay, Hawkeye?"
"Yeah," she grimaces. The pain in her arm is only intensifying. "That's for that, Havoc."
"Anytime," he says seriously. He looks over the freshly deceased body to the group's right. "So much for capturing them for information."
"Grumman will understand," Roy says with certainty. "Ah, look. The medics are here. Let's get you cleaned up, Lieutenant. Havoc, I need you to stay here and supervise clean up." He helped Riza stand, one arm underneath her armpit for support as he led her away.
/-/-/
"The good news is the break is clean. Once it's healed you should have no issues with mobility or function," the doctor says to Riza as he examines her x-ray.
"And the bad news?" She asks, bracing herself for the worst.
"The bad news is we will need to completely immobilize the arm to ensure it does heal properly. That means a cast from wrist to bicep for at least six weeks. You will need to use a sling as well."
She exhales, cursing internally. This will mean desk duty for sure. Without use of her right arm, she'd be a sitting target in the field.
"I'd like to start applying the plaster now, Lieutenant. Do you mind removing your jacket?"
Riza nods and takes off her military jacket, cringing as her broken arm shifts to remove her right sleeve. She holds her breath, hoping that her black turtleneck has short enough sleeves that they don't insist she remove it as well.
There are things she wants to remain hidden.
She's in the clear as the doctor instructs her to keep her arm still at a 90-degree angle. Ten minutes later, the limb is fully wrapped and she is being fitted with a sling.
"You will need some assistance in the bath," the doctor says as he fills out the paperwork on his clipboard. "Before you shower or bathe, it will need to be fully wrapped in plastic to eliminate the chance of any moisture. And don't try to workout while you have the cast either. You soldiers are a stubborn breed. Going on a run is only going to rattle your joints. The easier you take the next six weeks, the better. Now, do you have someone to drive you home?"
Riza nods. "My commanding officer is in the waiting room."
"Good. You are free to go, Lieutenant. I want to see you again in three weeks so I can make sure that your arm is healing properly. If you have any questions, or if it seems like your pain is unmanageable, please call us right away."
The doctor hands her an appointment card with his contact information and the time of her next visit. Riza takes it with her left hand and sighs. "Thank you, doctor. I will see you in three weeks."
She leaves the room and heads towards the waiting area. It is empty minus one man, pacing up and down the back row of chairs. He looks up at the sound of her footsteps and makes eye contact- worry clear in his eyes- before looking over her cast and pursing his lips.
"Before you say anything sir," Riza begins, reading his mind. "This was not your fault."
Roy walks over to her and places a gentle hand on the elbow of her encased arm. His touch is so light that she cannot feel it through the plaster. "How long?"
"Six weeks."
He lets out a deep breath. "How much are you going to fight me if I insist you take medical leave?"
Riza shoots him a menacing look.
"I can make it an order, if it helps."
"There's no need, sir. I was not advised against desk duty."
"Please tell, Lieutenant. How do you plan on filling out paperwork? Will your handwriting even be legible using your left hand?"
Riza had not considered this and pauses for a moment. She needs to convince Mustang that she is still useful in the office. Six weeks of medical leave would drive her crazy. "I may not be able to write, sir, but I can still assist you with reading through your own paperwork, sorting and delivering it as necessary as well as keeping the office generally on task."
"Always the work horse, Hawkeye," Roy says, his eyes twinkling with amusement. "I will permit you to keep coming to work, but the instant I think you are inhibiting your recovery, I will place you on medical leave with or without your approval. Understood?"
She snorts, but agrees.
"Now, let's go. We need to stop by your apartment and collect your things."
"What?"
"Surely you didn't think that I would just drop you off at your place to fend for yourself? Oh, no. You will be staying with me until you have use of both arms."
Riza swallows audibly at his words. Her nerves threaten to overpower her at the mere suggestion of spending six weeks in close quarters with her boss. Distance is their friend. Their carefully constructed barrier relies on keeping their personal and professional lives separate and then pretending that the personal side no longer exists. She curses her broken arm and the vulnerability that accompanies it.
"Really, Lieutenant," Roy says. Now he is the one reading her mind. "You fell out of a second story window. Only a broken arm is a blessing."
"It may be," Riza says, frowning. "Regardless, I am perfectly capable of taking care of myself while I recover. Dominant arm or not."
"Oh really," Roy leans forward and holds out one of Riza's guns. He holds it out to her unbroken hand. "Then reload the gun. If you can't, you're staying with me until your cast is off."
"Sir, this is ridiculous."
"Load the gun, Hawkeye and I will drop this conversation. Go on," he motioned to the weapon in his hands.
Riza gulps, staring at the gun in his outstretched palm. Weapons expert or not, she's not confident in her ability. Admitting defeat, she sighs. It was going to be a long six weeks.
Roy, while triumphant, is not immune to the stress radiating off of his Second-Lieutenant. He furrowed his brow, contemplating their options. "Hawkeye, if the idea truly makes you so uncomfortable, stay with me until Catalina returns from leave at the end of the week. You shouldn't be alone, but she is more than capable of helping you recover."
For a moment, Riza is relieved at the provided escape. She opens her mouth, eager to accept his compromise, before she stops abruptly as her mind shutters with reality.
Her tattoo.
In the almost nine months since she asked Roy to deface her back, the burns have healed well. Her mobility has fully returned and aside from occasional soreness, typically prompted by an unusually restless night of sleep, she now goes days at a time without thinking about the array.
Despite this, Riza has yet to even entertain the idea of someone seeing her tattoo. Theoretically, she knows the array is useless, but her desire to protect it remains, although her motives are now transformed.
Before, she was determined to keep her secrets out of the wrong hands. Midnight showers, away from hungry, prying eyes, became standard in Ishval. Even with the unforgivable heat of the desert, she was never seen donning less than her full uniform.
Now, it was different. She knew the implications her back gave. How would anyone, let alone Rebecca, overlook the fact that she was covered in burns all while conveniently working for the Flame Alchemist? Burns that were conveniently absent from her comprehensive medical report.
Rebecca was never one to take Riza's runarounds at face value. She would ask questions- questions Riza was confident she would be unwilling to answer.
"No," she says finally.
Roy raises an eyebrow at her, clearly surprised.
"I… I don't know if I'm ready to show anyone else my back yet, sir," Riza says with a finality that informs Roy she has no intentions of discussing her decision further. "Rebecca is unaware and I'm not ready for her questions. The last thing I'd like is for her to accidentally see it when helping me dress."
Riza notices Roy's ears flush pink at the thought of helping her put on clothes, but she is kind enough to not say anything.
"I have the car parked outside. This way, Lieutenant."
They arrive at her apartment just before dinner. Roy calls the local cafe down the block, ordering dinner for two to be delivered, leaving Riza to rummage through her things.
Riza opens her meager closet and grabs three sets of her uniform and a few pairs of her most modest pajamas. She hesitates in front of her casual clothes, uncertain if she wants to bring them, before deciding that they would be a more comfortable option than lounging around in her uniform all day.
The entire situation is still far too casual for her comfort.
She has the hindsight to pack only her dresses- long, flowy, conservative things in various shades, picked exclusively for their lack of pesky little buttons. The less she needs Roy's assistance to get dressed, the better for both of their sanity.
She lays her selection out on her bed before grabbing a large canvas bag. The process of packing is slow, she realizes. Her left hand fumbles with the simplest tasks, but she is grateful Roy remains out of sight on her couch while she struggles alone.
When all of her chosen belongings are finally tucked away in her bag, she slings it over her shoulder and carries it out into the living room.
"Perfect timing, Hawkeye," Roy says to her from the kitchen table. "Dinner just got here. I ordered sandwiches- thought it might be easier to eat them with one hand."
Her stomach rumbles, exposing the true depths of her hunger. It had been a long exhausting day and food had barely crossed her mind before now. She sits down beside him and eagerly begins to eat.
"Thanks for dinner," she says after she has eaten her fill.
"Of course," Roy answers as he gives her a warm smile. "How are you feeling? Have the pain pills worn off yet?'
Riza shakes her head. "Not yet."
"You really frightened me back there, Lieutenant."
"I had faith in you, sir," she answers honestly. Not once did she think the men would harm her if Roy had any say in the matter. "You pulled through, as always."
Roy doesn't answer her immediately, choosing to center his full focus on his half-eaten dinner. When he finishes, he looks up at Riza, eyes solemn. "That may have been the first time I've been happy to watch a man burn to death."
The gravity of his confession is not lost on Riza; she reaches out and eagerly squeezes his hand. "I'm safe now. Because of you. Thank you."
He nods and swallows audibly. "You're worth it."
The two sit in silence until Riza clumsily finishes her own dinner. She struggles to use her napkin and Roy innocently wipes the fingers on her good hand clean. They then grab her things and leave without a word.
They arrive at Roy's rent house just before nine. They are exhausted from a full day and it is apparent that the only thing consuming their mind is sleep.
"You can have the bed," Roy says as he gestures toward his bedroom. "I'll take the couch."
"I can't displace you like that," Riza immediately argues.
"Hawkeye-" Roy growls, the smallest hint of frustration lacing his words. "Don't make me-"
"We can share," Riza blurts out before Roy can finish. "It's a king bed. Plenty of space. We are both exhausted, my arm is broken, and I trust you to keep your hands to yourself. Besides, it's not like we've never shared a bed before."
With the elephant in the room exposed, Roy sighs, contemplating her suggestion. Yes, it is far from the first time he has had Riza in his bed, but that was back when things were different, before she had pledged to follow him to hell. Back when it didn't matter if he kept his hands to himself or not. Back before they were covered in blood.
"You're right," he says, weak to his exhaustion. "I sleep terribly on this couch anyway."
The two head to the bedroom and Riza begins to rummage through her bag, searching for pajamas.
"In the morning, I'll clear out a drawer or two in my dresser for your use," Roy says with a smile "I would now, but I'm far too tired."
"It can wait until tomorrow. I found what I'm looking for," Riza says with a small smile. She lifts up her long sleeved, cotton pajamas. A few seconds pass before Riza gives Roy a defeated look. "Lieutenant-Colonel?"
"Yes?" Roy asks as he changes into a cotton shirt and lounge pants behind the closet door.
"I need help getting dressed." Roy has never seen Riza blush so deep in his life. "Please?"
He nods and walks over to her, unbuttoning the strap to her sling, freeing the fabric draped around her shoulder. "Okay, put your hands above your head. I'm going to pull your shirt up and off. It may get stuck in the elbow of your casted arm, but I will do my best to be gentle."
This should be awkward, Riza thinks as Roy helps her out of her shirt with the utmost care, but it isn't. He tends to her now in a similar fashion as he did when her burns were still blistering and raw. His touch is careful, meticulous and focused on nurturing, healing and helping.
After a quiet warning, he unclips her bra and pulls her pajama shirt over her head. Not once does his gaze roam to where it shouldn't.
"There," he says once she is fully dressed. "Comfy?"
Riza nods as she gets into bed. The mattress groans as Roy climbs in on the other side and she feels the soft wool of his blanket as it's pulled up and over the both of them.
"It's going to take me forever to fall asleep," Riza says with a groan. "This cast is far too bulky for how I normally sleep." She rolls over onto her back and stares at the ceiling.
"Here's an extra pillow. Maybe you can prop your arm up to help," Roy says as he hands her a soft throw pillow.
Riza happily accepts it and after a few moments of fumbling, begins to think she found a tolerable position.
"Better?"
"Yes, thank you," Riza says, sleep thick on her tongue. Roy's soft, gentle snore answers her in place of words and Riza allows herself to focus on the ebbs and flows of his breathing, eventually drifting into a deep, restorative sleep herself.