AN- Sorry about the delay this time around, had a small issue with writer's block, and then wound up getting sick on top of it. (In my opinion, the first section of this could have come out a LOT better, but oh well. There's no way I'm rewriting the whole darn thing now.) Just to warn ya, this chapter's my second longest ever. I was considering splitting it up again, but I liked it as one big chapter.
Nightmares
"Hey, open up!"
Startled, Riza snapped out of her revere and turned to the door, but before she could move there was a series of soft thuds and Hughes walked in, carefully carrying two cups of steaming hot coffee. (The door had scuffmarks at the bottom from where he'd been kicking with his foot.) He grinned when he saw Riza.
"Figured you'd still be in here. Roy's vanished for the time being, so I decided to go see how you were holding up. It's been a pretty crazy night, huh?"
Riza nodded her thanks as he handed her one of the cups and plunked himself down in Roy's chair. Hughes spun around a few times, just for the sake of him being able to say that he'd finally had a chance to spin in Roy's chair, and then propped his feet up on the desk and took a sip of his own cup. He eyed Riza, who was stirring her coffee halfheartedly. Her expression was hidden, as per usual, but Hughes thought her eyes looked awfully sad.
"Heh, you know, I had to practically kill myself to get this coffee. The cafeteria's closed by now, of course, but I thought a nice hot cup of caffeine was just what the doctor ordered after a night like tonight. So, first I picked the kitchen door lock, and then I had to go dig up the coffee pot. And what did I find while I was looking for it but a…" His voice trailed off; Riza hadn't lifted her eyes from her cup.
"…Ah hah, alright, you caught me. I just stole this from that big meeting that let out a while ago. It's really good, too--better then the stuff they force on us lowly servants, eh? Man, those bigwigs have all the luck. This coffee's imported, even! Hope you like yours black, they were all out of sugar."
Riza nodded again. She took a small sip, but it was obvious that she wasn't exactly in the mood for small talk. Hughes sighed.
"Hey, Hawkeye…" he began after a moment, his voice a bit worried, "You sure you're ok?"
"I'm fine, sir," she said quietly. "As I've said, I was able to escape without any severe—"
"I'm not talking about what happened with Greed."
Riza's head jerked up, and she finally made eye contact with Hughes, staring at him. "Then I'm afraid I don't know what you mean…"
"Yeah, you do." Hughes's voice was uncharacteristically firm. "You know exactly what I mean. Things between you and Roy…are you sure you're ok with that?"
"I don't see," she said coolly, "exactly what you're referring to. The colonel was not directly involved in Greed's attack…obviously, I'm concerned that he has been made a target, but—"
"Riza. You know what I'm asking has nothing to do with that, either."
"Then it's hardly important enough to discuss here." The words themselves were calm enough, but they were covered in ice.
Hughes looked into his coffee cup and studied its sloshing contents. His lips curved upwards in a tired smile. "You're telling me your feelings aren't important?"
Riza clenched her fists. She could hear her heart beating, could feel it thumping inside her chest. "In this situation, no, they're not," she informed him coldly.
Hughes chuckled. "Man, I can't decide who's more stubborn, you or Roy. You both have your moments, that's for damn sure." He pinned Riza with a stern frown. "But let me tell you something, Hawkeye. I don't care what the situation is, feelings are always important. Gracia says that all the time, and it's true." He nodded adamantly, in that corny way only Maes Hughes could get away with.
Riza groaned silently. How could he know…?
But of course he did! Hughes had a knack for knowing everything he wasn't supposed to; he seemed to think his job as an Intelligence officer was to eavesdrop on everyone. It made perfect sense, really, that he magically knew how Riza felt about the colonel…
Riza wasn't sure what to make of it. She knew he wouldn't report her--he didn't give a damn about the no-fraternization rule--and it would be nice to have someone besides Black Hayate to talk to, but…he was Roy's best friend, after all. How smart would it be to bare her soul to him when he could just waltz back and tell the colonel everything she'd said—even if her logical side said loyal Hughes would never betray her like that, how smart could it be?
(How smart would it be to bare her soul at all? Generally Hawkeye considered it foolhardy and unnecessary—why give potential enemies more targets, or closer friends more grief, when a person could shoulder his or her own damn weight and keep their issues to his or herself?
Only…she knew how Roy suffered, trying to keep his true thoughts hidden. She knew how important Hughes's job as both best friend and confident was to her colonel…and she knew that Roy often needed her to help him with his burdens too, even if he didn't admit it, and certainly she never begrudged him any of it…
But she wasn't the colonel. She had no right to compare herself to someone who struggled internally as much as he did.)
"Hawkeye…? You ok?"
Her fingers tightened on the coffee cup. "Fine…I'm fine, sir. Like I said."
Hughes sighed again. "No, you're not."
"I am…and anyway," she suddenly blazed, "it doesn't matter if I am or if I'm not. I won't allow my personal feelings to interfere at work…I won't allow them to bother the colonel."
"Bother the colonel?" Hughes took a quick sip, eyebrows raised incredulously. "Listen, I think you've got it backwards. That man is losing his marbles over you."
Fresh guilt settled over Riza. "Yes, sir…I'm aware," she said softly. "The colonel has to worry now because of the trouble I've caused. It was never my intent to cause him any more stress then he already had…"
"What-?!"
Hughes choked on his coffee, and wound up coughing for a good five minutes before he could speak. He also wound up spilling about half the cup's worth of hot brown ooze all over himself in the process. "Argh…I mean…that's what you think Roy's upset about?!"
Riza flushed ever so slightly, more rattled then she wanted to admit. "Well, of course, Lieutenant Colonel. He's had a lot to deal with, and then on top of everything, I-"
"Jeeze!" Hughes cried in exasperation, "Both of you are completely and totally in denial!"
"Excuse me?"
"Riza, please don't tell me you've sitting here feeling guilty for being jumped! Like you could control what the homunculus decided to do! Besides, Roy is not angry at you for that!"
"I see." Riza obviously didn't believe a word of what Hughes was saying. "Then perhaps you could inform me as to what he is angry at me for. I don't believe I've done anything else to warrant his disgust."
Hughes, failing to find a napkin or tissue to wipe himself off with, settled for a wad of documents waiting for Roy's signature. (They'd been waiting for a few months now, so he figured it was safe to use them.) He shook his head at her sardonic words, his voice sounding both frustrated and sympathetic.
"You're right: you haven't done anything. And he's not mad at you, either." He felt rather then saw Riza's disbelieving frown, but kept his attention on cleaning his shirt. "He's too busy giving himself shit to be mad at you."
"…But, that isn't…" Riza shook her head, slowly. "That can't be correct, sir. With all due respect, Colonel Mustang would never—"
"Never what?" Hughes grinned weakly. "Roy's found a way to blame himself for every little thing that goes wrong around here…well, everything that involves you, at least. I mean, he's always been the kinda guy who hates to see people he cares about in trouble. He feels guilty, like he should have done something more to protect them. Not that I can exactly blame him—last time Elysia got a splinter and cried I wanted to cry too!
"Now, I know as well as you do that you're hardly someone who needs protection in the first place. But Roy's…well, he's Roy! He just isn't the kinda person who can sit back and not worry about people close to him. He's always got to have everything in control, everything running nice and smoothly. It doesn't matter if it's conquering-the-country-and-looking-good-doing-it or the girl he loves, he's gotta be able to reassure himself a hundred times a day that nothing's going wrong, that he planned for everything."
Riza tried to say something, but no words came out.
"It's a sickness, really," Hughes continued, and he heaved a dramatic sigh. "I keep telling him he needs to get it checked out, but for some odd reason, whenever I try to give him some friendly, well-thought-out, personal advice, he throws things at me. And they're usually sharp things, too."
(Riza remembered quite a bit of Maes Hughes's 'well-thought-out advice,' including an especially notorious incident in which he spent the entire day trying to convince people that starting a religion based around his daughter would be good for their souls. Still, under the circumstances, she decided to let that one go.)
"Well, anyway, the point is that Roy has to be in control of the situation around him. Personally, I think it comes from Ishbal. Can't really control who lives and dies in a warzone, and everything about warzones is what Mustang's trying to stop, soo."
"Colonel Mustang has always felt extremely responsible for his actions in Ishbal," Riza managed. Her head felt all swimmy; it was hard to focus clearly.
"Yuh-huh," Hughes nodded. "He couldn't control what was going on around him, or even his own behavior, and look at the end result. Worst case of survivor's guilt I've ever seen."
Riza put her cup down. "I'm afraid I don't see how any of this involves the colonel's present disappointment in me."
"He's not disappointed in you! I keep trying to tell ya…"
Riza couldn't control herself any longer. What did Hughes think he was playing at? Did he want her to start hoping again, like an idiot, blindly deceiving herself?
"If he's not disappointed, then explain to me, sir-" Her voice shook with anger, and a sort of desolate dullness she wasn't used to and didn't like. "If he's not disappointed, then tell me why he doesn't trust me!"
Hughes blinked. "Hawkeye, I don't think…"
Riza's hands clenched and unclenched at her sides. She felt so foolish…that was the second time she'd lost control in front of Hughes, in the space of two weeks. She was angry, angry at Hughes for prying, angry at herself for caring so damn much, angry at Roy for being such a stubborn jackass that he couldn't even tell her he wasn't interested in her to her face and at long last sever that final, tenacious line between them that still refused to crack…
Riza was tired of feeling exhausted the minute she opened her eyes every morning. She was tired of wondering what it was she had done to cause Roy such irritation. She was tired of hoping….
"Hmph. Why does no one but my darling family ever listen to me? I told Roy that was what would happen. You'd just think it was something you'd done and feel guilty. But, being the moron he is, he just kept insisting this was better. He really does not use his head sometimes! You're in the military, you're pretty impressive with a pistol, and I've seen you boss around officers twice your rank…and yet Roy's still so scared that something's gonna happen to you. Stupid, huh?"
The Lieutenant Colonel put his empty coffee cup down with a grimace.
"Not to mention that he's a big phony. He says he doesn't care if you get mad at him, or if you forget about him, even if you date someone else altogether…but that's a big fat lie. Obviously he does, considering he's completely miserable—I mean, have you seen the guy lately? He's dragging his ass along like someone died!"
Hughes shook his head, picked up his cup again, studied the brown stains on its inside a bit. He was smiling resignedly. "But nothing I could say'll snap him out of it. He's so stubborn…frankly, I think he's been having nightmares again. Remember the ones he used to have, right after the Ishbal Rebellion?"
Riza found herself nodding mechanically. Of course she remembered…he used to wake up every night screaming his head off. How could she possibly forget something like that? In the only nightmare she could ever remember having while in Ishbal, Roy had been the main character…and it wasn't even a made-up dream, but simply a reminder of all the times she couldn't give him a good night's sleep.
"So, fast-forward a bit," Hughes went on. "A man willingly allows himself to be driven nuts, just so that when he closes his eyes at night, he can try and convince himself that he's protecting a certain person. He tells himself that he's going crazy for a reason, that it's all for a good cause, yadda yadda yadda. All that hero stuff. And, just when he's starting to accept the fact that he's gonna have to go without, it happens. The person he was trying to keep safe gets attacked anyway!
"And, sure, she's not hurt that badly or anything, and he knows that if he asks her, she wouldn't even think of blaming him. He knows that she can protect herself easily, that she would get annoyed with him if he started treating her like some helpless damsel in distress. But…"
Hughes stood up and stretched. "And this is just my personal opinion, of course, seeing as how I can't find Roy to ask him, but, if you ask me, the man's gonna be feeling rather under the weather for a while. He went to all that trouble—even though he reaaally didn't have to—and it didn't even work. He's paranoid that something's gonna happen to you that he won't be able to stop. I know it sounds stupid, but hey, try talking sense to that guy! It just doesn't work! He's so cocky and obstinate. It'd be funny if it wasn't so mind-numbingly frustrating."
Riza glanced up at him, her face pale and her dark eyes showing strands of blatant disbelief. Sure, she knew the colonel had his demons to contend with, but that didn't mean…ok, so sometimes his actions were known to surprise even her, but still…yes, Hughes would know what he was talking about, but really, it was…it was…Riza found herself at a loss. Say she even believed his preposterous story…even if it was true…that didn't mean the colonel…it was entirely possible that Roy simply was concerned with her as a friend.
Instantly, she felt her breath coming more easily again. Yes, that was it. He was worried as a friend. It was sweet, really--she'd have to scold him later for being stubborn, for letting his personal feelings interfere with his work--but hardly anything worth getting excited about. It was nice to know he wasn't angry with her, that he still considered her useful, but to even dream after all that had happened that he could…well, that was just… just stupid, really…
She stared at Hughes as he headed for the door. "Sir…Hughes…I trust you are not suggesting—"
"You know something?" Maes said loudly over her, "It's really weird how people can resist something they actually want. For instance, Roy's too freaked out to reach out and take a chance. Kinda ironic, really, when you consider that his entire persona is focused around him and that devil-may-care attitude of his. Heh, I don't know…it just seems a little off to me. Well, speaking of that bone-head, I still have make sure he doesn't go drowning his sorrows in whisky without me, so I'd better go round him up. See you, Hawkeye."
Riza sat very still, for a very long time. For some reason, after all that had just been said, the thought kept drifting through her mind that the rebirth of Roy's nightmares couldn't be a good sign…
Roy's mood was showing no signs of improving any time soon. For one thing, his head was throbbing--it felt like he was coming down with a migraine or something. Which would be just fucking perfect.
He wandered aimlessly down the hallway, with only a vague idea of where he was headed. He knew he should probably head back to his office; no doubt everyone was wondering where the hell he'd gone off to. But…Riza was probably still in there, and in all honesty…Roy didn't think he could face her right now.
He turned down a long, dimly lit hallway, one with only a few doors on either side. This was where several important generals had their offices, secluded from the lower-ranked personnel. Every now and then, Roy would come this way to sneer at the closed doors: Just wait. Just wait until I knock you off the top, you selfish bastards.
He barely glanced at the doors today. With everything so confused and complicated, he didn't have the energy to spare.
Roy still wasn't sure where the hell he was going. His feet seemed to have been given a mind of their own, however, because they sure seemed to know. He idly contemplated ditching work early and grabbing a drink or twenty, but decided that his headache was bad enough; he didn't need a hangover on top of it.
The hallway ended in a slight curve: someone could stand at the very end and not be seen by others walking towards them until they rounded the curve themselves. Roy had always considered it a prime make-out spot, which was ironic considering any one of the persons residing in the offices around him had enough rank to send his rank crashing downwards on the spot. The Flame Alchemist always had been one for doing things rather dangerously.
Roy reached the end and turned to head back, considering his next destination in the same directionless manner—but he stopped when he heard the sound of high-heels clacking towards him. Maybe it was just his instincts that warned him to stay hidden.
He glanced around the corner, careful to keep himself out of sight. What he saw surprised him. Juliet Douglas, the president's personal secretary, was there, her heels echoing sharply against the tile. Roy furrowed his brows—what was she doing here? As the president's closest aide, she was with him at all times, and yet here she was, alone as far as Roy could tell. He assumed, of course, that there were times when she went off by herself to do whatever it was presidential secretaries did, but come on…the president's office wasn't even in this complex.
Roy waited until Juliet had turned into one of the offices, then cautiously stepped out. He noted that she was in an office that currently had no occupants…so why exactly was she in there? Roy couldn't help but be just a tad suspicious. After all, considering who she worked in close contact with, there was no way she wasn't at least aware of whatever the homunculi were planning.
Roy didn't know how deep she was in this mess personally--there was so much he didn't know!--or what role a normal human--she wasn't even an alchemist, after all!--could play in a homunculi conspiracy, but he did know she was mixed up in the whole thing somehow. And, because she was just a normal human, he also knew that when the time came down to it, she'd be the easiest person to get information out of. In Roy's humble opinion, that time had just been pushed waaay up.
He made his way quietly over to the office, glancing around every so often to make sure he was still alone in the hall. Juliet had closed the door behind her, but Roy was almost as good at eavesdropping as Hughes: by pressing his ear up against the crack between the door and the wall, he was able to make out most of the conversation. It sounded like she was on the phone.
"Yes sir…yes…I'm aware, sir. …Yes, I'm extremely disappointed as well. …Oh, rest assured, President Bradley, he met a…fitting punishment. We won't have to worry about his interrupting our plans any longer, I destroyed his stone before he even realized I'd ripped it out of him. However, that still leaves the little problem of…"
There was a pause. Roy pressed his ear even closer against the door, eagerly. She was talking to Bradley! This was his chance to glean as much information as he could! One question, especially, loomed large in his mind: who was the he they were talking about? The one who had 'met a fitting punishment'? And what did destroying a stone have to do with anything?
Could they be talking about the Philosopher's Stone?! Could they have made one? He frowned. That can't be it, why would they want to destroy something they've spent so much effort trying to hunt down?
"I will have to disagree, sir. Yes….yes…even so, if he were to find out ahead of time, before we were ready for him, the results could be devastating, as I'm sure you've long since realized. If he finds the lab before we've managed to relocate the research...Well, I still feel the original plan would work quite well; granted, it would have to involve someone more…trustworthy then Greed, but I still think that if we act quickly, everything could end up falling right back into place."
Upon hearing Greed's name, Roy had jerked his head away from the door like it was on fire. Now, he stood, clenching the doorknob in one hand, struggling against the urge to run in there and blow the room--and its occupant--to bits. He was so angry, he could feel himself shaking. If that bitch was talking about replacing Greed, then that meant she was really talking about…
"He said…he had been told to kill me because the homunculi want to hurt you…"
Riza had escaped once. The homunculi were prepared to go after her again and again, as needed. How many times could she manage to avoid these monsters? How long would it be until Roy got the dreaded phone call? When would the image of her discreet beauty be replaced with the image of her grave?
And all of this was because of him…
"Yes sir…we will simply proceed with the plan. Provided it meets with your approval, of course." Another pause; Roy could just imagine her lips curving upwards in a sneer. "Oh, don't worry, President Bradley…the girl will be dead by this time tomorrow. I can assure you of that."
"Roy's found a way to blame himself…he's gotta be able to reassure himself a hundred times a day that nothing's going wrong...it comes from Ishbal…"
Guilt does not simply come and go. It leaves a stench, a slimy residue that's ever on the lookout for more filth to latch onto…
"I think he's been having nightmares again."
The weary are allowed no rest…they must continue to drag their chains behind them long after others have discarded theirs…
"I can't be whatever it is you think I am!!"
The last lifeline is hope…once that is gone, darkness and death are never too far away…
Roy, why do you have to pay for the sins of the world?
"I will never give up on you, sir, no matter what you say. I'll always protect you. I promise."
That's right…I promised you.
"I suppose the colonel really is human, after all."
There is a rumor going around the encampment that Roy Mustang is not from this world. The newer recruits are in awe of his prowess, his grim determination, and the fact that he never, ever, shows the strain of near-constant battle. 'It's not possible to be so immune to it all,' they whisper amongst themselves, both amazed and terrified of a man who can search for female soldiers to ask out an hour after turning human beings to ash. 'He's gotta be from another planet.'
What they fail to see is that the Roy Mustang they know is only a cover, an act. The Great Major Roy Mustang, Flame Alchemist and soon-to-be Hero of Ishbal, is good at more then just warping flames and giving orders. He is also quite talented in the forming of shields, invisible walls he throws up between himself and the rest of the world. No one, not the young recruits, not the grim soldiers who have been there since the beginning, not his fellow State Alchemists--no one can break through these walls.
No one…except Riza.
And, in the beginning, she is of the same opinion as everyone else: this flirtatious major cannot be a typical human at all. She has not yet made her promise of protection and life towards him; besides that one incident by the medical tent, she has seen no sign of his inner distress. The only thing that makes this Major Mustang seem different from time to time is the way his eyes fog over when new recruits beg to hear his war stories. Scared, alone, and--usually--very young, they see Mustang as a person of decision and strength, and latch on quickly. Riza sometimes notices how forced and pained his smirk becomes when a gang of these recruits find him. He always winds up excusing himself from the conversation early, an odd maneuver for a man who loves to brag.
By the time Riza begins to suspect there may be more to this man then meets the eye, she is too preoccupied with putting up her own defenses to react.
Before long, a rumor goes around that she too is inhuman. The recruits ask each other if they have ever seen her lose her calm, and find that they have not. Whereas Roy acts as if he does not mind the carnage, Riza acts as if she cannot see it. Not even the screams of frightened children can bring more then a flicker to her eyes…and if, by some chance she is affected more intensely, she turns away and grimly fights for her control, so that no one ever notices.
(This happens far more frequently then anyone could ever guess, but that is a secret she plans on taking with her to the grave. She learned long ago that showing weaknesses in war is not acceptable.)
Being someone graced with strong willpower, she blocks the more disturbing images from her mind, concentrating only on what is happening that month, that week, that day, that hour. That second.
And so, life in Ishbal carries on, dry and dirty. And nothing ever happens to change Riza's opinion of Roy as a typical, bloodthirsty soldier.
Nothing, that is, until she is on night patrol and hears strange noises coming from her commander's tent.
At first, as she makes her round through the rows of sand-smeared tents, she thinks it is only the wind, wailing softly through the burning sky. However, she soon notices that the noises are the loudest coming from one particular tent--Mustang's tent.
She hesitates a bit, because for a lower-ranked soldier to barge into the tent of her commander while on duty is almost unheard of. Still, she makes up her mind once she hears the noises again, louder; it sounds like the major is having a nightmare, and if someone else heard, he'd be furious. It would mean a loss of pride, and that is the one thing she does not think he could stand to lose.
She pulls back the tent flap, her eyes quickly adjusting to the gloom inside. Outside, at least, there is light from the moon, as well as from the fires distantly burning over in Ishbal's streets.
(Those fires never completely go out; they smolder day in and day out, sending steel-grey waves of smoke up to the heavens…the devil's personal calling card. In a hundred years, Riza is certain the fires will still be there, burning.)
Inside the major's tent, there is no light at all, be it from the moon or from the flames.
"Major…?" she calls softly, unwilling to disturb him. "Is everything alright in here, sir?"
The only answer given to her is another low sound that can only be described as a moan. She moves a bit closer to his cot, wondering if he has fallen ill. When she gets close enough, she sees that he is thrashing around on his cot, the sheets twisted around him, and his face glistening with sweat. He mumbles something, some sort of curse or shout, and flings one arm out as if swatting something away from him. Another groan escapes his lips.
"Noo….nngh…I'm…sorree…"
Riza blinks. She has only heard the major apologize once before, and the sound of the word 'sorry' coming from him still seems very unusual.
"Don'…don' touch me…wasn' my…I din't mean to…don' kill me!" He flings out another arm, nearly hitting Riza in the process. "I din't mean to! Go aw'y…"
Riza suddenly feels very uncomfortable. This is not the Roy Mustang she is accustomed to. This is not the lecherous god famous throughout the camp, infamous in Ishbal. This is a scared, lonely soldier, a frightened kid with a cracked conscious. He looks so young, lying there fidgeting and whimpering in his sleep.
It hits Riza, suddenly, that she has no idea how old the major really is. Looking at him now, she would say early twenties…a sad and shocking fact considering the hell he is submerged in. Not that it's unusual for a person that age to be in the military; that's how old she is, after all. It's just that, during the day, he seems so much older…during the day, he is a leader of men who would follow him anywhere, and everyone, including her, either looks up to him or is afraid…
"Pleese…s-stop…ugh…"
Riza is starting to feel sick, seeing this. Roy Mustang is a person she looks up to, admires, despite his crimes….or maybe even because of his crimes, because he is one of the few who will even admit that he is a criminal. But, here, pleading with ghosts, begging for his life--something she is sure he would never do in real life--he does not seem like the same man. The same man…
She shakes her head, thinking of all the rumors, all the soldiers who call him ruthless and cold-blooded. Watching him act like this, it's all too obvious that Roy is human…extremely so. He must just be better at hiding it. But, as someone who's excelled at that 'talent' as well, Riza can see now that he's got his demons to contend with like everyone else. They might even be worse then with everyone else, because instead of letting them out as they come, the major bottles his up, until they burst out of him in a never-ending stream…until night falls and his defenses fail.
She is shocked to find herself comparing herself to him. She has never really felt anything but respect for him before, but now she feels she is beginning to understand him, this Roy Mustang of so much fame. What a strange group of creatures these State Alchemists are, she muses.
Or at least, what a strange creature this one is.
One more soft cry from the major, and she leans down, grasping him by the shoulders. "Sir," she says loudly, "wake up. You're having a bad dream. Major Mustang, sir, please wake up."
He stirs, squirms a bit more, and then finally opens his eyes. He sits up, slowly, dazed and disoriented.
"Whuh…where the heck…?" He rubs his eyes, but his hands slow as he realizes he is not alone. He glances up at Riza, and his eyes widen with surprise and confusion. "Ser…Sergeant…? What are you…?"
She turns to go, figuring the quicker she gets out of there, the less time he'll have to reprimand her. "I apologize for overstepping my boundaries, sir, but you were having a nightmare and I felt I should awaken you."
He reaches out and grabs her by the arm. "Wait."
She turns back in surprise. "Major…?"
"You…woke me up?"
She nods. "Yes sir. You sounded distressed, so I decided to wake you up. I did not mean to intrude on you." She says this calmly, hoping that he will let her go without too much ranting.
"You…you didn't intrude, Sergeant, but…it's just…" Roy still sounds confused. "Why?"
She stares at him. "…Why what, sir?"
He shakes his head, slowly. "Most people in your position would have either been too afraid to come in here, or would have gone off running to spread the gossip."
She shrugs slightly, and a startled look comes into his eyes as he realizes she did not even consider the latter, and the former for only a second. Who is this girl, that she can retain such quiet human dignity in a place like this?
"Permission to leave, sir?"
"Huh? Oh—yeah, of course…" It strikes him as very peculiar that she is the one who must ask him for such matters…it feels like it should be the other way around, like he should be taking orders from her. "And, uh, you don't have to bother asking for stuff like that any more, ok?"
She nods, "yes sir," and is gone. Roy sits and stares after her. He is not yet used to these nightmares, but he's been having them every night for a while now, and it's gotten to the point where he's afraid to close his eyes at night. Yet, somehow, that girl has chased away all his fears, at least for the time being. It just seems so weird…
Riza is still mulling over the encounter as she ends her shift and returns to her own tent. Although she does not realize it at the time, from then on she feels much more protective towards the major, who is, after all, not an inhuman god, but just a cocky young soldier trying to get by. From then on, whenever she is on patrol at night, she pauses at the entrance to his tent, just checking, although she is not sure why. And from then on, whenever she is on patrol Roy sleeps easily…he comes to look forward to those nights, because he knows that he will not have any nightmares while he sleeps, and that even if he does, his sergeant will be there to chase them away. They never speak about this; no words are passed between them, no agreement signed. Nevertheless, it remains a pact that Riza refuses to break, as solid for her as if it were set in stone.
When she hears the others talking about her and the major, about their calm in the face of battle and how there's no way they could be human, she has to smile. And sometimes the major catches her eye, and they grin knowingly at each other. Riza might not have been sure of it when she first arrived, but she knows without a doubt now:
"I suppose the colonel really is human, after all."
Unfortunately…
Unfortunately, the ending isn't quite so pristine. A few weeks later, Riza finds herself plagued by nightmares as well--or, to be more specific, a certain nightmare, the only one she can remember having in a long time. And it's not even a dream, but a memory, or at least a shard of one…
Because, in the dream, she is in the major's tent again, standing over him, watching as he twists and cries out. She always wakes up just as she is about to wake him up. The dream only lasts a few seconds, a minute at best, and yet there is something so disturbing about it…there is something so disturbing about seeing someone at their weakest, especially someone who is known for being very strong.
The nightmare lingers for a week or so, and then fades, and Riza is both glad and disappointed when it leaves. Glad, because now she can finally get a good night's sleep…and disappointed, because Roy, despite the other side he has shown her, remains tough and unreachable during the day, and she does not want to lose out on the only way she has to remind herself that Roy Mustang is, in fact, human…
"The girl will be dead by this time tomorrow. I can assure you of that."
"Like hell!"
The words exploded from Roy before he had a chance to stop himself. His hands flew up to cover his mouth, but it was too late, of course; inside the room, Juliet Douglas fell silent.
Aw, shit, he cursed to himself. Way to go!
His hand tightened on the doorknob again. Douglas was still keeping quiet, probably listening for more of Roy's dumb mistakes. He shrugged, glared at the door, finally figured, the hell with it…and yanked the door open.
He stomped into the room, expecting to see a shocked and/or angry young woman staring back at him—and instead found the room utterly and completely empty. He skidded to a stop in the middle, blinking in astonishment.
What the heck?! I saw her go in here…I was listening in on her conversation with Bradley and everything! Roy looked around the office uncertainly. There's only one doorway…maybe she's hiding somewhere…?
He took a step towards the desk sitting against the far wall. A thick layer of dust lying on its surface was broken only in a few places, with what looked like fingerprints.
She was definitely in here.
He looked down at the phone; the receiver was back on its hook, but, like the desk it sat on, there were fingerprints on the handle.
That settles it. The rat's hiding.
Roy's eyes darted over to the only real hiding place in the room: a small closet, with a closed wooden door. He moved towards it, smirking. Revenge might be bad, but it sure as fuck felt good.
"Where's the little bitch who's been threatening my lieutenant?" he growled softly, feeling adrenalin take over. "Where's the little bitch who's been causing me so much aggravation?"
He reached the door, and slowly turned the handle…with a snarl, he threw it open, and was instantly attacked by—
Dust.
"Argh! Goddamn it!" Roy jumped back, his black hair white with powder. "Don't the janitors bother cleaning any more!?" Furious, he searched the small closet up and down, but the unseemly truth remained: the only things hiding in this closet were dust bunnies.
The Flame Alchemist slammed the door shut, seething. How in hell was this possible?! The woman wasn't invisible! There was no way she'd gotten past him.
Roy turned and surveyed the room again. This time, his eyes fell on the cloudy window in front of him. He stepped up to it, and peered through the dirty glass. Was it possible she'd opened the window and jumped out? He tried opening it; the thing groaned with age and stuck slightly for a second, but then slid open more or less all the way. In any case, there was enough room for a slender person like Juliet Douglas to slip through.
Still…Roy looked out the window again. This room was on the third floor, so it wasn't impossible for someone to jump out of a window and survive…but a woman in a business suit and high-heels? It didn't seem very likely.
Roy sighed, figuring she must have somehow landed in the bushes. He slumped against the wall, but jumped a bit when he felt something cold ooze against his back.
What the hell—
But it was just water, dripping slowly down the walls and oozing into the worn carpet. There must have been a leak somewhere from all the rain.
It was then that the full realization of what'd just happened hit him. Not only was Riza still in trouble, but he'd just let one of the chief organizers of the whole damn thing slip through his fingers. His bitter disappointment was quickly swallowed by a boiling flash of anger…of frustration.
Those bastards…they're gonna go after her again! They're still trying to kill her! Those assholes…those goddamn freaks!
His fingers were digging deep into his palm; so deep, in fact, that there was a sharp little twinge of pain, and tiny droplets of blood began running down his hand. He ignored them.
"I won't let them!" he swore aloud, violently. "That's my promise…that's my mission! I'll kill them before they can even try to hurt her again! I don't care what it takes! I will stop this…all of this!"
The blood dripped from his hand and fell to the rug, mingling with the water below.
Hughes was still searching for Roy when he happened to pass by the hallway that had all the higher-ups working off it. He turned down it on a hunch, and, sure enough, the ever-so-familiar sound of Roy cursing reached his ears.
He rolled his eyes. Roy Mustang hanging out in an unused office ranting to himself was never a good sign.
Hughes stepped inside one of the rooms, wrinkling his nose as water burbled up around his feet. (Darn leaking roof!) Roy was standing by the window, head down and fingers clenched into fists. Instinctively, Hughes knew something bad was up, and proceeded with caution.
"Hey…Roy? Everything ok…?"
Roy's head darted up, and he looked at Hughes without saying anything. He didn't have to say a word.
Hughes felt a shiver crawl up his spine at the look in his friend's eyes. It was an ugly expression, a cruel expression, an expression of hate--hate so deep and so overwhelming that it almost seemed inhuman. Hate so black, so heated, so angry…
"R-Roy…? What happened?"
"They're not done, Hughes," Roy hissed at him.
"'They'?"
"The homunculi. They're not done. I just overheard that bitch Douglas planning it all out. She was deciding on what homunculus to attack Riza with next…there seems to be a never-ending supply of them to choose from!"
Hughes's head began to pound. "Are you serious?"
Roy looked at his opened hands. There was still blood welling from his palms.
"I'm going to stop them," he snarled to the air. "I'm not going to sit here and let them get away with this. No more fucking pointless research. This is it…I'm going to destroy those goddamn freaks once and for all. I don't care what happens, not one of them is escaping. Not one."
Hughes, knowing it would be pointless to argue with Roy when he was in a mood like this one, held in his unease. "Ok. Ok, as soon as we come up with a plan, we'll—"
Roy pushed past him and walked out without waiting for him to finish.
"Well, shit," Maes said dryly, to the dust. "Looks like I'll be working late for a while."
EDIT--Agusut ?, 2008: Oh, fuck. Took me half a year to get around to this fic. Kept putting it off as too demoralizing; I'm not making the story go from bad to good, I'm making it go from bad to slightly less bad. Oh, my foolish 15-year-old self who thought she could write!
(And yet, despite everything, I still have fond memories of this heap of plot-holes and bad characterization. Everyone's got to start somewhere, right?)