The medical reports revealed nothing. Riza's body was exactly as it had been. There was nothing that Truth had visibly taken away: her limbs were intact, and her internal organs had been mercifully left untouched, but surely there must have been a toll to pay when she opened the Gate.

What else could it have taken away from her?

Roy clenched his fists in anger and guilt, nails biting painfully into his bare palms. It should have been him. It was him that the bastard Fuhrer was after, but Riza had shoved him aside and gone in his stead. By the time the circle was activated he'd been too late - too late to save her, late late late -

The memory made him want to throw up again.

Riza should never have been the one to open the wretched Gate. Hell, it was his fault she was embroiled in the whole mess down there to begin with. She wasn't the intended sacrifice, but it worked - using her as a substitute bloody worked, because he had taken it upon himself to teach her basic alchemy once upon a time when they were children. It wasn't much, just simple things like fixing everyday necessities or boiling a pot of hot water every now and then for her morning coffee whenever the electricity was out.

But it worked just fine for their dastardly plans, because she had her own Portal and had been coerced into opening it, and now she wouldn't open her eyes and had been unconscious for days since The Promised Day and - damn it, please wake up, Riza!

They'd won, but with her in this state, loss was the only palpable, discernible emotion that Roy had felt since then.

He wasn't even sure if she could hear him at this point, but he'd continued staying by her side, day and night, talking to her about anything. Anything - the weather, how much he loved her, the latest news, how much he treasured her, and all sorts of gibberish and sweet nothings that he never got to say when they were strictly Colonel and Lieutenant.

Roy wasn't the only one worried out of his mind. Everyone had been pacing around restlessly, confused and scared shitless. It took all of his willpower to not snap at them, bark at them to get the hell out and leave him alone with her in bitter, sorrowful solitude. But it would be wrong to do so - they had every right to be worried, and to deprive them of their visitation rights would've just been downright selfish.

Certainly not the appropriate response to her selflessness that had saved him, and all of them.

Swallowing the ponderous lump in his throat along with his tears, Roy continued to cling on desperately to Riza's wounded hand. She'd already been unconscious for several days, and he hadn't even left her side once. God, he couldn't even remember the last time he'd gone home…

But there was nothing anyone could do or say to convince him to leave her side or pull him out of his disconsolate state. Not even the sight of spring resting peacefully on the shoulders of the Amestrians after the Promised Day could attenuate his depressed mood in the slightest. Havoc regaining his mobility had cheered him up a little, but it only lasted for a fleeting moment before his mind and body gravitated towards Riza's unconscious being again.

He just… he had to be with her. Never mind that he hadn't even slept proper in days. How could he fall into a restful slumber, anyway, when the sight of her being forced to open the Gate plagued him every time he closed his eyes? The only meagre source of comfort he had at this point was being able to see Riza alive, even if she wasn't awake.

You can take my sight, take away everything I have. Just... please, let her be alright.

And finally, finally - after what surely must have been an eternity - on a particularly sunny and humid morning, Riza began drifting into consciousness. Slowly, but surely. Her eyelids fluttered at the fulgent rays refracting off the window panes brightly, clearly uncomfortable with encountering sunlight after days of dwelling in darkness.

Roy watched in breathless awe and relief, nearly gasping out loud when her fingers twitched slightly against his. Immediately, he leaned in closer to her, as if to reassure himself he wasn't hallucinating.

"Riza?" he called gently, titles be damned. After all they'd gone through the least he could do was do away with that sickening barricade of formality. The only titles he wanted to give her after the purgatory they'd endured were ones of endearment.

She didn't respond.

He tried again, whispering her name like a prayer, a promise. "Riza. Riza, can you hear me?"

Her eyes cracked open to take in the ghastly paleness of the hospital room, and as she roused from her unconscious state the dreadful smell of antiseptics finally hit her. Riza wrinkled her nose in disdain, coughing slightly. Her throat felt like sandpaper, and her lips were parched. Empty, cracked. The words lay forgotten on the tip of her tongue.

"Can you see me?" She turned to focus on the voice that was calling her.

Roy sighed, shoulders sagging visibly in relief.

Truth hadn't taken away her sight or hearing, then.

But there was a glint in her ochre eyes that was eerily unfamiliar, as Riza looked up to meet his gaze directly. No longer were they like warm sunlight. Instead, it was replaced with a cold, muted gold; a canvas of blankness and nothingness.

"Who are you?"

And with those three words, Roy had his answer. His face crumpled as his world crumbled before him.

Truth… Truth had taken her memory away.