Chapter 2

The following night at the hospital, Roy didn't wince awake for once. Consciousness gradually flooded his senses – all but that bloody visual one – when the air was still cool and quiet with night.

Although quiet was relative.

His ears perked at the sound of rasped breathing. There were no steps outside, no nurses hustling patients along. Only Hawkeye. Hawkeye struggling, panting almost where he guessed her to be in pain. He listened for a moment longer. A croaking gasp almost broke his heart. She wasn't even awake, he assumed, knowing she controlled herself with an unparalleled discipline during the day.

Tossing the blanket aside, he got up. At least he got his feet on the ground – that disgusting hospital ground. He groped for the nightstand, making the fatal mistake of hasting; trying to stand at the same time. A jerk of panic rushed through his veins like an electric shock when his balance tipped. His fingers scraped the wood, bending unhealthily. His wrist collided the surface before he lost his grip entirely.

Riza startled awake when his knees hit the ground. Groaning, Roy cursed under his breath.

"Colonel?" she wheezed. The sheets rustled above him.

"No," he brought out between gritted teeth. She wasn't supposed to take care of him, damnit. Opting against finding the bed, Roy focused on simply getting up. He heard her bare feet touch the cold floor, another rustle telling him how she had crouched down. He found her hand almost on first try.

"Did you hurt yourself?" Riza hoarsely asked. An arm came to wind around his, up to his shoulder, the other supporting his weight where she let him push himself up. He didn't let go as she anticipated, neither stepping back towards his bed or giving any hint of needing to round hers in order to get to the bathroom. "Colonel?" she whispered to hide the tightness of her voice.

He opened his mouth for a question, then reconsidered. Allowing her to gently shove him backwards, he found his bed. She waited for him to adjust, not complaining once where he kept hold of her hand. That changed when he gave it a pull, causing her to stumble and collapse halfway atop him.

"Colonel!" Riza gasped, breath hitching unnaturally. Not letting go, he wrapped his arms around her torso, squishing it further onto his. Lucky him she wasn't connected to the I.V. pole that night. (A curious fact, that.)

"Stay," he whispered. A sigh was her answer, an edge of exasperation covering what he liked to believe was gladness. It took him another heartbeat to loosen his grip. She must have thrown him irritated looks right and left, but he decided to make use of his blindness for once. He was only relieved Hayate hadn't picked up on his mommy's mood, and that he liked Roy enough not to attack him whenever he upset her.

Having to let go either way, Roy waited for her to settle in. Scrambling to all fours, Riza pulled her legs up onto the mattress. She retreated dangerously far from him, something that made his hands twitch with the urge to draw her in again. Restraining himself, he waited. He knew that if she actually did leave, her bed was merely a good metre away. The possibility of her asking to transfer to a different room didn't even cross his mind.

All available senses snapped to attention when the blanket was lifted. His skin prickled in anticipation, something he making him blush embarrassingly noticeably. Her lovely scent was the first thing that greeted him, followed by warmth, then her hip against his. The blanket lowered, enclosing them; granting him all of those wonderful things to stay – to stay his.

Roy didn't hesitate to wind his arm around her shoulders, but Riza took his hand off. The protests bubbling on his tongue melted into sizzling heat along his every muscle when she tugged on him to indicate lying down. It was nothing new, and it was nothing unusual for them. Still, it felt like ages since they had been this close – this physically close – seeing as their transfer to Central had graced both with a cruelly increased level of surveillance.

The atrocities of the Promised Day lingered day and night with a bitter sting in the guts, but it had all come and gone in a rush. Holding her now; having her close again sent his heart soaring.

If only it hadn't been for that croaking breathing, and the jerking of her chest once resting her head on his pillow.

"Does it hurt a lot?" he asked in a low voice. His arm took on a life of its own, wreathing around her once more, hand eagerly coming to rest on her waist. He couldn't help it.

"It's fine," Riza returned courtly. She really had been asleep, he concluded, the way she now actively suppressed any stutter of her breath detectable with his ear so close to her face. Turning onto his side, Roy desperately tried to direct his sightless eyes at hers. He could feel her estimating gaze. She must have guessed that he had noticed despite her efforts.

"Lieutenant," he assumed a serious tone, "have you been taking painkillers?"

"I told you I'm fine," she tried anew but he had none of it. Coiling his other arm around her, he secured the blanket over them. Her neck was hot, radiating more warmth than even her breath did. Nothing uncommon for a wound this severe, but alarming all the same. The missing I.V. stand still bothered him.

"That's not what I asked. Answer my question – that is an order," he added strictly. It took her a heartbeat to come up with a reply.

"We're not on duty."

He pursed his lips. Knowing her, he was sure she was doing the same. Never would he have admitted it to anyone, least of all himself, but she really was even more stubborn than him, if merely by a tad.

"Then I'm asking you as a friend," he returned. Riza heaved a sigh, one of annoyance as much as of defeat.

"No," she finally admitted.

"No, you didn't accept painkillers?"

"No, I'm not taking any," she stuck to his original question.

"You refused them," he insisted. No answer was an answer in itself, he figured. "Why? Are you afraid they'll make you drowsy and unfocused?" he speculated. Hitting the bull's eye. Deciding against any more scolding, he tightened his embrace. Her silence spoke volumes, so it surprised him when she spoke up after another minute.

"I just…" Her words were so quiet, so faint, he had to hold his breath for a second. The way her sentence broke; how it wasn't planned and structured and firm as it always was – as it should've been – it almost scared him as much as the scratching of her breathing. "I have to keep watch." Her hands found his shirt. "I have to protect you." Her fists grasped the fabric over his chest. Her forehead followed, pressing against him.

With a sigh of his own, a sad one, Roy wrapped his arms more tightly around her. An involuntary whimper escaped her throat, face burying in his chest as a result. Sightlessly staring ahead, he held her. A minute ticked by, the clock on the wall telling him as much.

Gradually, her breathing calmed, the skipping of her heart starting to adapt to his own, transferring from her chest to his.

He waited for another minute. Her shoulders sank. He grimaced when they tensed up the second his slowly travelling hand reached her nape.

"Colonel," Riza whispered, "don't." The thumping of his own heart picked up alongside hers, if for a different reason. Feeling her pronounce right into him sent a shiver down his spine. He had missed her terribly, somehow still missing her despite their current position.

Even so, she didn't detach herself from him. Taking it as encouragement, Roy continued. The end of the bandage was easily loosened, careful tugging enough to free the fragile injury. With but the tips of his fingers, Roy lightly traced her nape. Wandering further, lower, around and towards her collarbone, his hair stood on end upon brushing the alchemically treated wound. Raw and hot, it pulsed.

Only noticing the forcefully held breathing when she gulped laboriously, Roy retracted his hand slightly. With the other, he began rubbing her back, soothingly animating her to relax. She did once his lips descended upon the crown of her head.

Even more cautiously than before, Roy wisped a finger around the scar. He knew it must have been large, but its actual size shocked him nonetheless. It felt bigger than it looked after all. The tiny hairs on the back of her neck rose. Caressing the tingling skin around the cut, he stimulated the itch, distracting off it. It didn't take long until her grip slackened, breathing evening out. He had to smile softly.

And he savoured the first calm night they had, inhaling her scent and not letting go for a second as he drifted off himself.

The first night since months without worrying for the other's safety.

Roy gave a sigh of relief when her flank rose and fell regularly. Morning had come and gone with both of them waking and drifting off repeatedly. The same could be said for the night – still the most restful in weeks, he reckoned. Riza had returned to her own bed for her check-up, the nurses wheeling her back in with Fuery in tow. Only through him had Roy come to know who 'they' were as Breda had indicated the day before. Because they were staying in the same hospital, not two wings further.

And boy was Roy glad one of them had met Riza on her way down the corridor – the last thing his everchanging mood needed was Fullmetal so much as greeting him.

Still, he couldn't deny – at least to himself; to anyone else, he very well could deny – that he was relieved about both Elrics faring fine. Fragile, yet fine.

The sun shone warmly through the window now, streaking Roy's face from the side. Lunch was nearing, though far away enough to enjoy a moment of peace. He was more than glad that Riza had thought the same thing, his heart still swelling with love at how she had stolen herself back into his bed right after Fuery's departure.

Hardly listening to the radio the Master Sergeant had brought, letting it buzz in the background, Roy had his eyes closed. Sunken with his back into the pillows against the headboard, he relished each undisturbed minute – the serenity of the room, the unagitated reports on the radio where they blocked out the few steps down the hallways, and most of all the steady rising and falling of his Lieutenant's flank beneath his arm. Not even Hayate was demanding attention from his curled-up mommy, Fuery having offered to take care of him for the coming days.

When the door opened unexpectedly – it was too early for lunch anyway – Roy was glad he hadn't startled and awoken Riza. Listening intently, he could easily guess who was visiting by the squeaking of what were undoubtedly wheels.

"If this isn't a sight for sore eyes." Havoc didn't stay undercover for long, unable not to tease. "And it only took the entire country dying to get this far." He grinned audibly. "What's a kid gonna take? The human race's extinction?"

Roy only glared at what he hoped was his subordinate's face. Well, ex‑subordinate, but hopefully, that was going to change soon.

When he didn't greet back, Havoc tsked, still amused.

"I don't think you'll wake her by speaking up; she tolerates the radio too," Havoc argued. Roy didn't respond – as much due to feeling found out as due to not wanting to disturb Riza's much-deserved sleep. It was rare for her to sleep this deeply, worrying him almost more than her not being able to sleep. "I'll keep it simple then – yes or no questions it is."

Turning the radio down further, Roy listened when the wheelchair squeaked again. Trying to turn, Havoc was edging closer to the window.

"Can I open this for a smoke?" he asked, leaving Roy to assume the window. People really weren't used to spelling things out for him yet, though in this case, it was rather obvious what was meant. "Alright, that face speaks for itself," Havoc snickered at Roy's scowl. "Guess I can switch to more complex questions then." His grin returned. "How are ya doin' so far?" He leaned back in his chair. He sounded serious now; honestly concerned.

When merely receiving another disgruntled glare, though secretly able to read the hidden discontent, he sighed.

"I see," Havoc nodded. There was a familiar rustling, one that Roy had heard many times. Had it not been for Havoc being its origin, he might have wondered for forever what it had been, but now the image of a cigarette package being fumbled quickly formed in his mind.

Sticking the unlit cigarette between his lips, Havoc regarded the two.

"And how is she?" he went on with his half-monologue. This time, sadness was by far more evident on Roy's face before he had the time to iron out his expression. "Man, I can't decide if she looks really comfortable or really uncomfortable," Havoc frankly commented. She was snuggled into Roy's side, a hand on his chest that made his pulse keep up a speedy rhythm. Yet her brows creased into a frown, speaking of pain or unsettling dreams. Or both. "You definitely look like you could use a shave."

"Says the man trying to look like the goat he milks for a living," Roy couldn't hold back anymore, puffing in annoyance.

"Hey, we're a convenience store, not a dairy farm!" Havoc complained. It lured out a grin on Roy's lips, tugging him out of his shell. "And I thought you really were blind…" Havoc accused, a susurration telling of his arms crossing defiantly. The smirk was unmistakably there though, both equally unsuccessfully pretending not to be cheered up.

"I am," Roy scoffed. "A friend told her about that scrubber on your face." He kept from gesturing with his arm as not to rouse Riza. Stirring nonetheless, she gave a small moan at the sound of his voice, the difference in movement when he spoke disturbing her. Both men held their breaths. Her own remained even, eyes not opening.

For a minute, the only thing to be heard was the faint babbling of the radio – about the lovely weather they were to expect for the weekend, how it was perfect for a hike or to marvel at the clear starry sky and other things neither Havoc nor Roy could look forward to. Perhaps not ever again.

They waited another, almost mocking moment, but Riza didn't give any more signs of waking up.

"What friend?" Havoc eagerly picked up where Roy had apparently left him intrigued. He was clearly hoping for it to be a girl friend.

"Her cadet friend from the East," Roy frowned, his voice lowered prudently, "the one with the truck – Catalina is her name. Something with an R… Renée?"

"Rebecca." Havoc lightened up. "She noticed my facial hair?" he purred, more to himself, sounding somewhat proud. Roy rolled his sightless eyes, if only for the effect. "Oh, I got you something." Havoc wheeled over, nudging something to Roy's unoccupied shoulder.

Grumbling about having to be more careful – even if the object hadn't been near his bandaged hand or Riza – Roy took it.

It was a board or sheet of wood of some sort, like a flat tray. Leaving it on his lap, he felt over it with the tips of his fingers, perceiving filigree bumps, and many of them, arranged randomly from what he could tell, separated into squares by shallow furrows.

"It's braille; an embossed alphabet," Havoc explained. Frowning, almost angrily – about the same way he had responded to the walking aid – Roy snorted. "Will give you something to do," Havoc reasoned, either oblivious or skilfully ignoring his former superior's irritation. "And you can even use it as code back in the office once you can see again," he laughed.

"What makes you so sure that's ever going to happen?" Roy carelessly dropped the board on the nightstand, almost missing, but guided by the radio's quiet buzzing. Havoc chose to overlook the dismissal.

"You lost it through alchemy, right?"

"In a way," Roy grunted.

"Then why wouldn't alchemy be able to fix it?" Havoc asked. It was almost naïve, perhaps merely gullible, perhaps truly out of belief. As if it were that simple. "Alphonse got his entire body back; I'm sure if you ask Dr Marcoh to use his alchemy, you'll get your sight back," he argued. He pressed, apparently informed about the Colonel's current refusal.

"Sure, I'll ask him to add wings and a tail and make my scars disappear while he's at it," Roy huffed.

"Fine, fine," Havoc raised his hands in mock-defence, "be grumpy, you ol' sourpuss."

"All I'm saying is—" Roy's growl was interrupted when Riza stirred, unsettled by his leaning forward. He lowered his voice then. "All I'm saying is that alchemy doesn't just work like that. Even if he did offer to treat me, who says he'll still do it if he thinks it won't work and our deal about Ishval will be over then," he argued. He was entirely too caught up in his pessimism to remember how Dr Marcoh had known very well while offering the treatment. "Who says I'll be accepted into the military again, least of all with a higher rank should I somehow ever be able to regain my sight?" he somewhat snapped.

"Pff, don't make me laugh," Havoc brushed it off. "If anything, they'll promote you, and that'll piss the senior staff off with you rising so quickly," he argued.

"That's nothing new to me…" Roy muttered.

He suspected Havoc to have become annoyed with his negativity and foul mood when silence fell. he couldn't see the pensive look on the former Second Lieutenant's face. The only he thing he heard besides the radio was the slight scrubbing of what had to be Havoc's fingers on his chin. Roy turned down radio some more, narrowing his eyes.

"She didn't say I looked like a goat, right?" Havoc surprised with his complete lack of indignation.

"What?" Roy's frown changed, one of puzzlement replacing the previous bother.

"Rebecca."

"Oh." He kept from rolling his eyes again. He should have known that Havoc's thoughts would return there. It made him smile, something he hid the second it flashed across his lips, unsolicited. He eased back into the pillows. One hand absently caressed Riza's flank. "Nah, but she's looking for someone who isn't such a chicken," he taunted. "I think I remember her to have been on the lookout though," he mused. Havoc inhaled sharply, prematurely celebrating his luck with a hiss.

"Nuff said. I'm off." He grinned broadly. His wheelchair squeaked as he turned. "Man, I hope she's still in Central… Imma go look for her now. Don't forget the braille," he called over his shoulder. Roy grunted his disapproval, huffing to himself when the door's lock clicked open. "I'll leave you two alone then." Havoc most definitely winked, careful not to open the door just yet and have others overhear. "Tell her I said 'hi'," he added.

The door fell shut behind him after a brief struggle, the squeaking of his wheelchair audible where he turned to speed down the hallway.

Finally at peace, Roy sighed deeply. His shoulders sank, head thudding against the headboard above his pillows. The radio now silently played a symphony, blending into the background noise of the hospital's returning hustle and bustle.

His fingers found the board on the nightstand. Mumbling something degrading to himself, he shoved it between the nightstand and bed where he wouldn't find it again on accident.

"I like the idea," Riza piped up.

"You could've said 'hi' yourself," he returned. He had known her to have been awake, having felt as well as heard it when their conversation had deprived her of her slumber. Of course, he had hoped her to fall back asleep and miss the awkward conversation – most of all his outburst – but when it had been undeniable that she hadn't, restraint from stroking her side had dwindled drastically. Visitors or not, it was almost a physical impossibility not to make the most of their closeness.

"And share the embarrassment instead of having you shoulder it all? No, thank you." Riza grinned mildly, tiredly. Grousing lowly in complaint, though playfully, he found his heart swelling at something so trivial, then bleeding just as suddenly with the desperate want of seeing her smile; of indulging in the entirety of her rare joke.

Having to retort to different means, he tugged on her instead of the teasing nudge – the last thing he wanted was her to move away, if merely by a centimetre.

"It's unlike you not to take on a challenge," she remarked. He turned his head away, not keen on a continuation of the topic.

"I don't need it." He was almost glad not to be able to see the braille board he felt was a threat to his defiance – an acceptance of his disability. He wanted to avoid it, to never touch it again, since he knew she had a point. His fingers would become eager to actually find out how the patterns were not random at all, itching his brain to discover the system behind them – he caught himself mid-frown. She knew him too well.

She sat up then. He already missed the contact. Still, he knew she would have to return to her own bed for lunch which was nearing by the minute. Not something he ever looked forward to.

His breathing stilled for a second when her hand appeared on his head. It brushed through his hair, pushing his bangs away from his face before wandering further. The light scraping of her nails on his scalp enticed a sigh of pleasure. She shuffled to kneel next to him.

He closed his eyes, sharp senses focusing on her every movement. They followed as she traced downwards, tingling when the softness of her thumb tenderly stroked along his cheek. It remained there, palm cupping his jaw.

"Would you like a shave?" she asked, feeling the stubbles. Leaning into her touch, Roy couldn't help another sigh through his nose. He really, really wanted to see her. The desire was never gone, but it flamed up more strongly from time to time.

When he gave a vague hum in response, she knew to interpret it as agreement. He wouldn't have asked for one yet, and he would have declined with certainty had anyone but her asked to do it. Only now, the need to see blazed fiercely, achingly in his chest.

Whenever the rare occasion of her shaving his face had arisen, he had had his eyes closed. So now he was left to wonder and to yearn, his imagination everything he had to see the way she would focus on not cutting his skin, on not missing a single hair. He lamented his loss more than ever.

"You have to eat more," Riza pulled him out of his thoughts. Her hand still rested on his cheek, gently caressing it, then dropping. Softly, it landed on his chest. Her knee was still touching his hip where she had folded her leg beneath her, the other dangling down the bed.

"The stuff here tastes like cardboard," Roy protested.

"Then order something."

"I'll be broke by the time they take off these bandages." He held up his hands. Using his chance where he still felt hers on his chest, he enclosed it in his own, returning the favour by running his thumb up and down her dorsum. Unbeknownst to him, she watched the ministration, mesmerised.

A moment passed, a comfortable silence having settled.

"I'll cook for you," Riza spoke up softly, "every meal of every day if you want me to," she promised. A small smile tugged at the corners of her mouth. "But only if you eat well until then," she chided mildly. 'Then' – the hospitalisation ending – was something he knew wouldn't happen all too soon.

The notion of her cooking for him was undoubtedly something to look forward to though. It meant they would have to live together, at least close enough for her to spend most hours of the day with him.

He didn't answer, but he could feel her gaze from the side, warmly regarding him when their tasteless food arrived and he ate it without complaint, forcing down every bite. He pretended not to notice her knowing smile.