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Friday II

Both startled when the doorbell rang.

"…what?" Roy squinted into the darkness. It took him a moment to assess his position, or rather theirs. He could not see the alarm, only feeling warm breathing against the hallow of his neck. Unsteadying warm breathing; of course she would rouse as well.

He patted over her head to free his vision of her hair. Quarter to two. At night. What had he done to deserve this?

Groaning when the doorbell rang again – twice – Roy reluctantly peeled himself out of her embrace. He knew very well what he had done wrong, but why the same punishment was forced upon her remained a mystery. And just when they had reconciled! At least somewhat… He was just glad she had come back to cuddle, no matter how distressed.

Hayate was at the door long before Roy had gotten up. A whine in the place of a bark told him that their visitor was not a threat. Just a nuisance, Roy thought to himself.

"Who is it?" Riza croaked, blinking up at him.

"I don't know," Roy said, leaning back over, "but if it's Havoc, he can walk himself home this time," he grumbled. The safety lever of her gun clicked, alarming him. He ignored the ringing doorbell for a second, pressing a kiss to her crown. "I'll take care of it," he murmured. Her unoccupied hand darted out, grabbing his shirt. Roy's heart momentarily skipped a beat. Then the other hand came, pointing. "Right," he agreed, being released.

As reminded, he picked up the alibi blanket and pillow from the foot of the bed. Dumping them on the couch, he then flicked on the light in the hall. The bell was ringing constantly by now, Hayate scratching impatiently. With an unamused expression, Roy opened the door.

"What do—" Roy winced when arms were flung around his neck.

"Rizaaa! Thank god, I thought you were asleep!" Rebecca wailed into his ear. I was, he was about to say, but she continued. "It was horrible; he was—" she sobbed, "he was such an arse, he just talked and talked and—" another sob right next to his ear, "and let me talk, only to tell me he's got someone else!" she cried. Roy felt his shirt get rubbed into. Smeared with makeup, he was sure.

Had she not noticed…?

"Hey, Reez," Rebecca sniffled, confused, "have you been working ou—oh!" she let go when finally realising that he was not Riza. He made a mental note of his Lieutenant's nickname. "Right, this is your place," Rebecca remembered. "Where's Riza?" she drawled. Stealing a glance past him, she kept sniffling. Her voice was wobbly, but her eyes gained a curious spark.

Roy followed her gaze to the ajar bedroom door. Hayate exited just then, making him frown. He had not seen him leave, but when he reluctantly guided Rebecca towards the bedroom, he saw the reason.

He knocked on the doorframe to keep up their charade. "Lieutenant?" he announced. "We're coming in," he hastily said, seeing as Rebecca wasted no time pushing her way in.

Only just sitting up, Riza was assaulted by her best friend. More wailing disturbed their previously quiet home, Rebecca retelling in detail what she had previously screeched into Roy's throbbing eardrum. Riza held her friend reassuringly, humming along where there was no space to answer properly.

On his side of the bed, Roy caught sight of dog hair. She must have unsuspiciously called Hayate to her, pretending the warmth of the mattress to have been his. What a brilliant woman his Lieutenant was.

He felt awkward just standing there, but he did not want to leave. Not that he cared about the failed date; he wanted to offer a ride home. Be granted another few hours of sleeping in the arms of Riza – the currently occupied arms of Riza; why did people have to barge in and demand her comfort all the time? She was his guest. And what was up with ruined dates? Was there such a thing as Date Thursday?

Perhaps Rebecca and Havoc would have been more content with one another, at least when it came to lamenting their poor luck, Roy pondered.

A good five minutes passed until her breathing evened. Sniffling repeatedly, she finally detached herself from her friend's neck. Sure enough, there were black smudges on her shirt. Well, technically, it was his shirt.

"That's a nice necklace; I've never seen you wear it," she wiped her nose, touching the diamond with the other hand. She was mystifyingly observant. Yes, she had probably imprinted the stone into her forehead, but whatever the ultimate reason, Roy was glad she had noticed the necklace and not the shirt.

"You should really go to bed if that's your priority right now," Riza chuckled gently, trying to overplay. Rebecca was – as assumed – not as easily fobbed off.

"Did you go on a date without telling me?" Rebecca gasped. Her eyes narrowed, something Roy could not see. What he did see though was the way she shifted, her head about to turn and fixate him when Riza piped up.

"I… found it among my belongings when packing up," she invented. "It was my mother's," she lowered her head. Perhaps it was owed the circumstances, or perhaps Riza was that good an actress, because Rebecca only threw her arms around her friend again, this time providing consolation. Even Roy felt a small sting in his chest when hearing the word 'mother' from his Lieutenant. He knew very well how much the topic still hurt her.

Returning the hug, Riza fell quiet. Her gaze went up, meeting his in the half dark. Apology, he read without a doubt. His eyes softened. She did not have to be sorry for saving their skin, but that fact that she did, told him how much the gift meant to her.

It took another five minutes of standing around – and inevitably listening to the disaster of an evening – for Roy to retreat. Rebecca's swollen, almost aggressively bloodshot eyes on him did the trick. Grumpily, he went into the living room. Hayate followed, then returned to his mommy once having ascertained that Roy was not going to take him on a walk. Or invite any more people into the house.

Roy swore inwardly not to let anyone in anymore. Remove the doorbell. Ban alcohol and dates during the week – scratch that, all week plus weekends. Every day. He was not allowed to take his beloved out anyhow, so there would be no harm in a general prohibition.

With a huff, Roy slumped into the couch. He could hear them talk – at least Rebecca. Unintelligible chattering went on for hours; hours which he wished to spend with Riza. At least to grant her rest, he thought. She deserved it. She needed it the most too, seeing as she would play the major role of refilling the archive.

Stupid archive, stupid fire, stupid date nights, Roy cursed under his breath. He grabbed the blanket more forcefully than necessary, turning to stare at the backrest of the sofa. Havoc was right – it was awfully uncomfortable. In his irritation – squeezing his eyes shut to enforce sleep upon himself – Roy raked his brain to find any information on whether Rebecca had mentioned liking flowers. The idea of picking Havoc up again and having him take Rebecca out right then and there briefly surfaced, but he discarded it.

Any and all raging thoughts froze over when he felt a pair of soft lips on his temple. Roy all but catapulted into a sitting position. The blanket fluttered, entangling. He tore it away from his head, staring at the space next to the couch. Empty. His eyes travelled, finding Riza's where she stood in the doorway.

A finger went up to her lips, eyes shining dimly in the darkness. He could not hear whether she had shushed him or not made a single noise; his pulse was thumping wildly in his ears.

Silhouette drawn against the weak light of the table lamp in the kitchen, she turned to leave. A glass clinked, then the tap gurgled quietly with water. She turned off the light, finding her way back into the bedroom without problems.

Slowly, his hand rose up. With the tips of his fingers, he brushed the spot she had kissed.

The toilet flushed, then the door to the bedroom closed one final time that night.

She had changed into a different shirt – a pyjama to begin with, he only now recalled. She had not only apologised, she had forgiven him. How he wished to tell her just how much it meant to him.

He would, he told himself. The moment they were alone and in private again, he would tell her. Hold the mushiest of speeches if he had to. Buy her flowers, it hit him. The necklace had cost him four whole salaries and the hurry of having it custom-made even more, but he had savings. He could use the money he kept for paying petrol. He was not above walking to work for once (or a month). And anyway, he could blame it on someone else having rammed his car enough for it to need repairing.

Flowers, Roy inwardly repeated to himself. Flowers, chocolate, a bath without interruption. A massage, perhaps, a brand-new collar for Hayate. There was something about pet owners and being happier about their animals receiving gifts than themselves.

It took him quite a while to fall asleep, but he eventually drifted off. That obnoxious alarm reached him in the morning, and he cringed on his Lieutenant's behalf. Forcing himself to get up right away, he tossed the blanket aside. A shiver ran down his spine. The bedroom was so much warmer – and there was body heat to share. He knew Rebecca was no competition for him, but the fact that she had gotten to sleep with that loveliest of natural heaters instead of him sparked up jealousy.

Roy was hardly standing when Hayate bounded into the living room. The bathroom door opened and closed. Bending down, Roy petted Hayate's ears. It hurt by far more than anticipated – his neck was a stiff disaster, and he had to turn his head slowly from side to side in order not to wince in pain each time. His back was even worse. Even his legs felt sore, the couch having been too hard to let the body sink in.

Aching and tired, Roy grumbled on his way down the hall. He rubbed his eyes, finding them crusted and most likely darkly rimmed. It had been an alibi glass of water the last night, but she must have drunk it anyway. The light squelching of bare feet on tiles were without a doubt those of his Lieutenant. He knocked on the doorframe when the tap stopped running.

"Lieutenant?" he pretended not to know that it was her.

"Just a moment," Riza called. He closed his mouth – he preferred seeing her face over yelling anyway. Hayate joined him in waiting. His eyes must have shone just as much as Roy's when Riza emerged – fully dressed, but with her hair still down.

She would not don the uniform's jacket and boots until they left, though, so he had a good hour to admire her in her turtleneck. The way her waist seemed even slimmer with the uniform's trousers being baggy; the way it made her feet look smaller; how strands of hair tumbled down her shoulders.

His eyes eagerly followed her hand when she scratched the side of her thigh. "There's at least one mosquito in the bedroom," she explained herself with a sharp sigh.

"I'm sure you nourish it well," he could not help but grin. She was a magnet for the tiny pests.

Just then, the bedroom door opened, Rebecca emerging in one of Riza's pyjamas.

"At least five times tonight…" Riza grumbled, scratching her arm next. She gave it her all to ignore the gaping of her best friend – the gaping at one Roy Mustang's bare chest. He, on the other hand, had to gather every bit of will as not to grin shamelessly. Rebecca's jaw had dropped. And was she drooling?

"That reminds me of our last… training session," he quickly invented. No one but his unit was allowed to know about their secret missions. A commanding officer testing his subordinates was no uncommon occurrence however.

Still, Rebecca's brows rose to their maximum. She must have immediately thought of something perverted. Not that he minded.

"You were the only one to complain about the mosquitos," he recalled.

"I know," Riza rolled her eyes, "I told you they find me tasty – they always have," she said. A hint of nostalgia laced into her voice. He knew exactly what she referred to. They had spent many nights outside under the starry sky at her father's house – and if they had stayed inside, the parasites had found their way in, only ever bothering Riza. He had made her a net to cover her window using alchemy. "You guys were lucky I came along," she brought him back to the present.

"Speaking of lucky," Rebecca piped up, "that bed is bloody gorgeous!" she raved. "And I don't just mean comfort-wise – look at it; you'd have me in there with a single glance. How didn't I see that yesterday?" She stalked back into the bedroom, dropping energetically enough to bounce up and down. "Also, where does one even find a mattress this enormous – no gap, just a single giant mattress," she stroked over it as if caressing a passionate lover.

Hayate was quickly infected by her gleefulness, jumping up to join her. Having invited him yesterday must have undermined his restraint. Roy could not reprimand him now, and neither could Riza – not if they wanted to keep up their act.

"That easy, is it?" Roy coyly smirked. He leaned against the doorframe, fully aware of how he was showcasing himself. Rebecca might have posed a threat to their secret, but she was a lot less observant when this exhilarated. That, and him openly flirting with her would draw the attention off Riza.

"I wouldn't say easy," Rebecca sat up with as much dignity as she could after having sprawled out on a strange man's bed. She did, however, look every bit as nonchalant as he did – the same flirt playing in her tone. Being embarrassed did not appear to be something she saw necessary to begin with. "I mean, how many months did you save up for this?" She trailed a finger along the headboard.

He used the lack of boundaries to retrieve a pair of socks from his cupboard. The shirt he had chosen to wear was waiting in the bathroom, he was sure. The one that smelled of his beloved.

"Whatever it was, I should have spent at least half of that money on a proper couch," Roy lamented, rubbing his back as he straightened again.

"I'm sorry," Riza said where she now stood in the doorway.

"No, no, I told you," he came to meet her, refraining from standing too close the last moment, "you deserve the bed. The rings beneath your eyes that I spotted in the office tell me a good deal about how horrible your own bed is," he chuckled. She shook her head, the usual, neutral expression taking over.

"It's because I actually work, Sir; the bed's got nothing to do with it," she raised her chin slightly. He grinned sheepishly, charmingly, knowing well that she was teasing him.

He passed her, on his way to the bathroom. There, he blissfully retrieved the shirt. Not bothering to button all the way up, he went back around the corner. While leaning against the wall to put on his socks, he could hear Rebecca's voice over the quick strokes of Riza's hairbrush.

"Seriously, this bed is made for sex."

"Becca!" Riza hissed.

"Just look at that carved headboard – so sexy," Rebecca commented, running her hand over it once again.

"It's just wood," Riza argued between her teeth.

"Curved, hand-crafted wood," Rebecca swooned. "I bet where we slept, there was a lot of sex going—"

"Stop with the sex!" Riza scolded, flustered.

Roy exhaled deeply, trying to wipe the grin off his face. "Lieutenant," he knocked on the open door. "I'm going out to get breakfast; do you want me to take Hayate with me?" he offered. Her eyes softened, and only because her back was facing Rebecca.

"Only if it's not too much trouble."

"Of course not," Roy smiled. With a single whistle, Hayate was not only at his side, but had passed him. Panting excitedly, he wagged his tail where he waited at the front door.

Roy could hear Rebecca whisper while he went to put on his shoes and coat. Riza always shushed her or replied reluctantly. When he returned, a bag of freshly baked bread rolls in hand, the house was already clouded in a delicious scents.

"Is that bacon and scrambled eggs I smell?" His feet somewhat hovered into the kitchen on their own. Riza was cracking an eggshell on the rim of the counter. A pan sizzled with the fried egg, another one spluttering with strips of bacon.

"Not quite," she greeted.

"But could I smell it…?" he crept over, a charmingly boyish smirk on his lips.

"If you don't want the milk for your coffee," she pointed behind her at the set table. Roy grinned.

"I must've forgotten to show you," he stepped back. Three pairs of eyes followed him as he opened a cupboard, shoving a package of cereals away to reveal several cartons of milk. "The secret scrambled-eggs-plus-coffee-milk deposit," he disclosed, raising a playful brow.

"I see," Riza returned the gesture, amusement twinkling in her eyes. Taking the pan off the blue flame, she held it out to him. Generously, he added milk, then picked up a fork to stir. "Don't use that; you'll scratch it," she retracted the pan to replace it on the stove. He followed.

"It would appear that you forgot whom you're dealing with here, my dear Lieutenant," the term of endearment just slipped out, but he could make it pass as being part of the joke. Not that he did not mean precisely what he had said. Like so often, he was glad about his playboy image – people knew him to be bilingual in flirting.

"Alchemists," she muttered with a tut. Her hand reached out, surprised to find what she was looking for without hinderance. He had already opened the drawer to her right, and she blindly found the spatula he knew she had been looking for. A smirk of triumph stretched his lips, and he could see by the sparkle in her eyes that she noticed.

"Looks like the pantry of a pâtissier," Rebecca noted from the side. He had not even noticed her getting up.

"Not really," he turned. The up-and-down flashing of her eyes told him that he had yet to button up his shirt to the top. "I just stocked up and never got to use it," he took out a can of ancient coconut milk. Riza's hand appeared and retreated, taking the expired can and throwing it away. "Though I think I remember cookies being mentioned…?" he eyed a package of chocolate chips next.

Rebecca zoomed around him. "You told him that?!" she hissed by far too loudly for him not to hear.

"Just that you liked baking cookies," Riza defended herself. He judged the more rigid poking in the pan as a replacement action.

"What else did you tell him?"

"Not much, seeing as you mostly told me about your last date," Riza scowled, "in detail," she added with a growl.

"I wouldn't be opposed to hearing about that," Roy smirked meaningfully. Riza tsked, but Rebecca instantly switched into coquetting mode.

Leaning on the counter with her elbow, striking a pose with her hip angling seductively, she lowered her lids. "I'm more of a show-not-tell kinda girl," she purred. He could see Riza cringing in the background. His abdomen tensed with held-back laughter.

"That so?" he played along anyway. Leaning down slightly – his back aching terribly – he mirrored that sultry gaze of hers. She bit her lower lip, eyes straying to his lips and chest every so often. Clearly, she was not doing this for the first time. During breakfast, he even noticed the way she had tugged down her shirt to present more cleavage. If that was not right up Havoc's sleeve, Roy did not know what was.

Slightly disappointed when he did not follow her to stalk her while changing clothes, Rebecca left them in the kitchen. She had to find a way to fit into one of Riza's uniforms due to the top being too tight for her. Again, the woman practically screamed for Havoc. Only she did not know him.

Riza's cheeks were tinged with the cutest of pinks. He wanted to kiss those bashfully puffed cheeks, tell her he adored every millimetre of her body no matter the size of her breasts in comparison to her friend's. Withholding all of it, he contented himself with drying the dishes she washed.

"She recovers fast," he laughed. Riza let out a groan. Embarrassed, yes, but he could see a hint of gladness shining in her eyes. She knew he had only pretended. And she was relieved that he did – it made his heart soar.

Once ready to leave, Roy went back into the bedroom to retrieve his State Alchemist's watch.

"Here," he heard Rebecca hastily say. Something clinked; he presumed keys. "Have it. I'm moving in here, sister!" she decided. Riza drew a bewildered breath, but Rebecca was faster. "He's not directly my superior – and anyway, my landlady loves dogs! I told you about that, didn't I?" she bargained. Then she held a hand next to her mouth as if to shield the words from Roy as he came down the hall. "That bed's too gorgeous not to be used every night, if you know what I mean," she whispered, wiggling her brows.

She spun around to throw an innocent grin at Roy, only then remembering to morph it into a seductive smirk. He returned it, just for the fun of it. Riza slapped her friend's arm, dragging her outside. She did not mind sitting in the back as they drove, her ears glowing red with second-hand embarrassment.

At Headquarters, they separated. The true calamity was only just beginning.

He took it all back. The archive burning was nothing to laugh about. Short-term happiness, he berated himself, the long-term consequences only now having set in.

Riza had been working for nearly eleven hours non-stop. He had not seen her after they had collected her for recalling the records in the morning. Neither had she been at lunch. Every time he had snuck downstairs with some petty excuse, he would only find her shipped off to the next General, or the next group of equally incited secretaries and scribes. They ran them like horses, a whip the only thing missing with the amount of shouting that could be heard.

Havoc and Falman had already left for the night. Breda was packing up, while Fuery waited at the door, ready to go home. It was half to eight. Roy was circling his pen restlessly between his fingers – as he had been for a while now. He looked up when Fuery opened the door without Breda having put on his jacket.

"Lieutenant," Fuery smiled. Pity laced his voice, but he tried his best to sound upbeat. She looked like a corpse, merely returning a weak smile in greeting. Roy rose to his feet. In his haste, he made his chair scrape noisily across the floorboards, then nearly fall before he caught it. Breda raised a brow at that.

"We're off then," he announced. Fuery nodded, and the two left the office together. "You look like you could use a good 24 hours of sleep," he noted when passing Hawkeye.

"I can take care of Hayate if you like," Fuery offered. Her voice was quiet when she replied, thanking him but declining politely. She sounded hoarse from all the dictating. "Oh, right, the Colonel can do that," Fuery remembered. Breda's other brow creased.

"Why's that?" he asked as they headed down the hall.

"Eh, nothing," Fuery quickly said. He was going to crack the moment they stepped out onto the street, Roy assumed. No matter, he told himself, there were more important matters to attend to.

Crossing the office, he went to where Riza was sort of glued to the spot. Not because she was in shock – though she did look more troubled than just overworked. Her mind was not catching on yet. She had arrived. Figuring out the next step seemed to take her a good minute.

"How about we head on home," Roy brought her back from her thoughts. "I'll drive you," he added for good measure. The door was still open. He reached out to close it, and inside his head he was already concocting scenarios. A forbidden but much needed embrace was number one on his list. Office or not, they could hug behind closed doors. She certainly looked as if she could need it.

He had only just reached for the doorhandle when a new voice startled them.

"Yoo-hoo, Riza!" Rebecca skipped down the hall. Roy supressed a growl under his breath. How could he have forgotten; her clothes were still at his place. It had been fun to philander in the morning, mostly because it was not serious at all – at least from his side. Right now however, the last thing Riza needed was someone drilling her with questions and anecdotes.

With a half-hearted, though not dishonest smile, Riza was overrun by Rebecca. She hardly spoke a word on the way back, and in this case, Roy was glad about the upbeat waterfall on his passenger seat. He stole glances through the rear-vision mirror at the right moments, unable to shake the feeling that something was off.

Perhaps she was still angry about his joke concerning the archive? Or their fight that had ensued with Havoc visiting? Maybe one of the Generals had said something disrespectful, he pondered. He would not put it past them, yet he could not shake the feeling that he was at fault himself.

They arrived not much later, and Rebecca stormed past Hayate to change. In her dress with the plunging neckline, she threw herself onto the bed again with a gleeful cackle. Roy tried to imagine Riza in her place – cheerful, blithe. She was everything but that.

Waiting mutely in the entrance, she let her chin be licked by her dog, caressing his ears. Even when Rebecca threw her arms around her friend and thanked her manifold for the refuge – not to mention offered her own flat in exchange again – Riza did not say much. It was an odd balance between the two.

Rebecca came across as uncompassionate, but Roy could very well imagine that overplaying the elephant in the room was just what his Lieutenant needed at times. No one addressing her obvious apathetic mood helped for it not to boil over.

Hayate returned from a quick relief on the nearest streetlamp. Then the alabaster glass of the front door rattled when Rebecca swiped it shut behind her. He watched it for another moment. Both of them did. It had rained overnight, so the fading steps splashed lightly until disappearing completely. He ventured a glance to the side. Then a step. Edging closer, Roy had unsuspiciously redirected his gaze forward again, as if the wood of his front door piqued any particular interest.

Close enough to feel the warmth of her body yet not touching, he stopped. Her head dropped to his shoulder. His breathing stopped, and he dared side-eyeing down at her again. She was not looking. Chancing his luck, Roy wrapped his arm around her. It gave the proper feeling of a married couple, he found – or rather the warm flouncing of his stomach told him. As if sending their child off to school, watching it catch the bus.

She let out a soundless sigh. Then surprised him anew by taking his other arm. He complied, finishing her unspoken request as she drew his arm around her, her grip on his shirt concerningly tight. He had hardly enclosed her when she slackened, sagging into him. Weakly and desperately in equal shares, she clutched his shirt.

"Hey," he gently soothed. A sniffle rocked her back beneath his palms, startling him.

"I'm sorry," she rasped.

"What? What are you sorry for; there's nothing—"

"I get mad at you, only to bring people in here myself," she managed in a wobbly voice. It alarmed him, so he animatedly rubbed her back.

"You didn't—"

"I speak of risk and endanger us more than you did," she went on. A sting of hatred painted her tone. It clogged his throat, hers evidently off worse. "I tell you to be wise and can't even keep up my own act when it's most important." Her legs gave in. He sank down with her, letting her bury herself in his chest.

She shook with a forced down sob. Legs to either side, cramped between his, they did not look as if they would support her weight any time soon.

"What brought on all this?" he carefully asked. She was not usually this negative – strict yes, but not self-loathing.

"I don't want to lie," she croaked, muffled by the way she raked his shirt into her face. "It hurts me to belittle you." He switched from rubs to mellow caresses. She twitched, clamping her mouth shut, only to sniffle heftily. "I don't want this to end," she whispered. Or perhaps her voice had given up. He tightened his hold, squishing out that choking sob she had been stifling so violently. "We're such a mess…" she cried.

Letting out a breath, Roy hugged her to him as if it was the only thing keeping them alive. Hayate sat next to them, watching sadly while his mommy convulsed with hiccupping sobs.

With determined gentleness, Roy picked her up. The poor dog could later relief himself in the bathroom, on the couch or anywhere else for all he cared, but right now, he had his Lieutenant to take care of. Lowering her onto the bed, he had to catch his balance as not to crush her. She might have been quivering with sobs, but her grasp on his shirt was adamant.

"It can't take them too long to repair that wall," she brought out, trying to catch her breath.

"Hey," he kept on rubbing her back, his other hand finding hers. He enclosed it in an attempt to relax that desperately clinging fist. "It can't be that quick – you know how long they took to rebuild that shop after the terrorist explosion," he reminded.

"But that was an entire building," she argued in an unsteady voice.

"A civilian one," he returned. "The state doesn't care about anything private – not even when it's part of the infrastructure, so your wall is their lowest priority," he shushed. Fingers weaving through her hair, he tried to lure her out of hiding. "You not going there to rush them will put them at ease," he added. It took a good minute until she would let him detach her face from his shirt. He was only glad he had opened the with medals clustered uniform, though both of them changing into something more comfortable would have been preferable.

When Riza did retreat, gasping for breath, he seized his chance. Tenderly, he cupped her cheek. Her head all but collapsed into his palm, and when meeting her eyes, he knew why she had been hiding. Her skin was raw and red, eyes swollen. Her lips quaked in a miserable, tight line that tried hard to suppress any more snivelling.

"Let's forget about all that for now," he proposed. "It will come when it will come, but until then, we need to enjoy our time together," he emphasised. She swallowed laboriously. "Don't make me phrase it as an order," he mildly scolded.

Her grasp on his shirt tightened. He frowned at the way her brows creased, not yet having taken a breath to continue when she raked him down to her. Vehemently, ardently, Riza pressed her lips to his. His shoulders tensed for the split of a second. She was panting, but when the tips of his fingers found her nape, she shuddered, melting into his touch. Relaxing for the first time in over 24 hours.

He kissed her again, lips merging, dragging, suckling. Hayate had long resigned, waiting by the front door. The sun set behind the horizon, drowning them in darkness. They did not care to turn on a light.

"I actually had a necklace like this once," Riza quietly said. "It was my mother's; golden and longer," she touched the diamond dangling from her neck. The sole thing she was wearing. "I remember how my father gave it to her, how it made me dream of these fairy tale relationships – being wooed by a prince and live happily ever after.

"Then my mother died and my father practically abandoned me – emotionally," she retold, her voice frail and soft with remorse. "I didn't believe in a perfect match anymore; I lost interest," she said. Roy listened patiently, drawing small circles into the small of her back. He watched her face, occasionally glancing at the necklace. She was not looking. "Until you came."

"I must've further dragged that image of a storybook gentleman into the mud," he chuckled lowly when she drew a breath.

"You did," Riza hoarsely agreed. The smallest of smiles tugged at the corner of her mouth, just before vanishing again. "But you were there, and I was so attention starved, you filled that void without trying or intending to," she explained. "And I let you – gladly," a bitter smile replaced the grim expression on her face. "I wanted you to," her voice faded. She sniffled once, but caught herself with a deep inhale.

"You really analysed us," Roy cautiously jested.

"Yes," Riza plainly confessed. He tightened his arm around her, the one propping up his head itching to enclose her as well. "I tried to treat myself – to give myself therapy and get out. I took it all apart – me, you, us, my father and even Ishval. I wanted to find a rational explanation for my obsession so that I could snap out of it. And I found it.

"I imagined life outside of the military; without following your life goal and your orders and your recklessness," she said. It left a sting in his chest until she went on. "I worked out everything and it only drew me in closer," Riza admitted with a sigh. A sigh that was far from sharp; not yet relief but not defeat either.

Her words burned a guilty hole into Roy's heart. He was glad it had not made her distance herself, at the same time making him feel like a selfish bastard for his gladness.

"I want to escape this, but I also really don't want to," she desperately said. It was less frantic now; less of a rumbling and more of a humming in the pit of her stomach. She had come to a decision. "I don't want myself wanting this, but I do. I just really, really," love you was on the tip of her tongue. He felt it like a wisp of cold air, the hair on his arms rising to stand on end.

Fully dropping onto his side, Roy wound both arms around her. She deflated against him, but the shuddering of her breath was gone.

"I'm grateful we're naked," he said somewhat out of the blue. "I feel as if I can hug you even more," he murmured. She squeezed him in response, digging her fingers into his back.

"Me too," she whispered. His heart skipped several beats, and she hesitated for another instant, as if an unknown taste was on her tongue that she could not quite pronounce. "I'm grateful too… Roy."