Chapter 3

"An investigation?" Riza asked the officer standing in their room. With wounds such as theirs, it was unusual for the military to be recruiting their expertise, even after nearly three weeks. Hers at least.

"Yes, for the integrity of our files, we need to write a detailed report on the event," the man explained in a deep voice. "We haven't been able to track down any of the soldiers who had accompanied you to that chamber where Fuhrer Bradley's body was found, and the other participants are said to have returned to Xing," he went on. Of course, they hadn't found anyone. The 'soldiers' had been military refugees and chimeras on top of that.

Roy's arms tightened where he crossed them, sitting upright in his bed. He understood their intentions, but he didn't like the idea of the Lieutenant going down there again one bit. She was already plagued mercilessly with nightmares. Wandering down to that chamber – that chamber where she had nearly bled to death…

"General Grumman has ordered witness accounts to be the sole source of information for the report, however he did insist you only accompany us if your condition allows it," the man went on.

"It's alright," Riza said, "I'm sure there won't be any trouble with half a day's outing," she calmly agreed.

The sheets rustled. Roy imagined her blanket being tossed aside when the next thing he heard was the sound of her feet finding her slippers. Her scent arrived at his side before he registered her to have come to stand next to his bed. "Let's get ready, Colonel." She offered her assistance.

The officer looked at them, confused. It had been very clear how he had addressed her and only her. Roy wasn't thought to be of any help with his disability, his rank apparently doing nothing in the face of being unable to see the scene in question. Not that it wasn't permanently replaying through the blackness of his vision.

The soldier opened his mouth to protest, not exactly knowing how to phrase it politely enough as not to upset the already irritable superior. But Riza went on as if bringing Roy wasn't only the most natural thing, but the primary intention to begin with. He could only guess the much-saying glares she gave the man when he tried to unsuspiciously shake his head. A rather accurate guess, but Roy kept the suspicion to himself.

Having ignored the glances as well as the fact that she was supposed to be using a wheelchair as not to strain herself, Riza was soon guiding the Colonel with her arm hooked onto his. They followed the newly constructed path for reaching the lower levels of a largely destroyed Central Headquarters. He stuck to her, surrendering the rail to her for purchase.

"I think Major Armstrong might have helped with this," she quietly told him halfway down. He assumed that the rail was elegantly curved, somewhat hoping not to meet its creator any time soon at the same time. He already hated the way his sensible hearing picked up on the soldiers' whispering, merely fractions of words understandable. Most of them concerned his or his Lieutenant's condition. The word blind fell more than once.

His inner agitation settled ever so slightly when they arrived. Not because they had arrived – it was the worst contribution to his unease – but the way she walked. The way she stopped. The way he knew when she was about to stop, somehow telling him through body language that was completely unnoticeable to anyone but him that she was going to halt. Saving his face by not having him stumble but move in tandem with her.

They didn't need to speak; they were in sync.

"We're here," she said. "This is the chamber where we came after fighting Envy in the tunnels; we're facing that entrance," she narrated, allowing him to form a picture in his mind. "Not three metres northwest is the blood stain of Bradley – they put up signs for numbering evidence. His is the number two. Number one is right in front of the shape of his body – more blood is sprayed in a half circle," she drew him a picture. "There is a spike coming from the ground above his head – number three."

He could hear the scribbling behind them, someone opening their mouth for questions, but she unsuspiciously tugged on Roy's arm to move them along. As if the sole person she cared to report to was him.

"We're nearing the transmutation circle now, to our left," she stated. When they halted, she gave him an exacter location, but never went any nearer. "My blood has the number five, the circle four," she informed. Her tone was plain, unaffected, and he knew she was doing so on purpose to calm his nerves. He tightened his arm around hers.

She left out the holes of Bradley's swords where Roy had been pinned down. The country still believed their Fuhrer to have died the death of a hero.

"The archway we entered through is up ahead. The one of that gold-toothed doctor is now hidden behind the Major's path in our backs. The hole you returned through from below is still there. And the pillars of Alphonse, the Major and the Elric's teacher." She tilted her head back, glancing at the sky to where the pillars ended. He fought the urge to copy her. "The room below us is where I waited for your return – where we met up with Major General Armstrong and the others."

The soldier noting down her testimony asked a few questions. She refused none, answering only what she had seen with her own eyes and still retelling with a surplus of descriptions Roy knew were meant for him. He was glad that it was at least not her job to write the report.

She didn't drop a word about the transmutation circle that had swallowed him to the gate of truth, but he noted an increased stiffness of her body, her silence tense.

Not saying a word unless specifically asked, Roy let himself be towed around. When it came to the investigation of the lower levels, and he revealed to have been blinded then already, not a soul demanded his account anymore. They would simply question the Elric brothers or their teacher later, they said among themselves. It made him feel almost more useless than when he had stumbled around down below.

Incapable of seeing however made Roy focus on his other senses. His listening in particular. The closest and most important thing was his Lieutenant's breathing – he analysed it constantly, comparing it to what he knew it sounded like when she was calm, stressed or in pain. When it bordered a rasp, even if just for a second, he declared their excursion to be over.

They didn't speak on the way back, neither to the soldiers nor to one another. Back at the hospital, Roy stayed mute until the nurses had ascertained themselves about Riza's well-being. They changed her bandage like every day. The only thing his ears picked up was the beginning of a question of a nurse, cut off by what had to have been Hawkeye's premature answer in the form of a refusing gesture. A gesture, not words – something she didn't want him to know. Seeing as she never hid anything from him, it made him worry all the more.

Finally, they were left in peace. He heard her eat on her bed. He didn't touch his own late lunch. Arms crossed, sightless gaze hard, he stared ahead.

Moments of silence passed before he spoke up.

"You didn't have to bring me, you know." Roy had to bridle his tone as not to snap at her.

"They asked for witness reports," she steadfastly replied. She must have seen it coming. He exhaled sharply. He was well aware of her efforts to make him feel better – at least to make him feel less useless. Something he now inevitably felt. Not left out, but unwanted.

He couldn't decide whether having sat around, tense with concern for her while he was doing nothing to help, would have felt worse than the way he felt now. He couldn't decide whether to grudge or approve of her approach either. Having been able to watch over her – if only to a wee extent – was by far better than dreading anything happening to her while she was out, yet the whole thing implanted a deep feeling within him that the military didn't need him anymore. That they didn't want him. Had disposed of him, and after everything.

The feeling that being blind really could mean the end of not only his career and his dream, but his life as a respected man altogether.

"You know as well as I that they didn't want me there," he addressed the elephant in the room. He couldn't help himself – he needed to get it out somehow. The fear of disgruntling her and the bitter hope of her turning away from him and living her life freely fought a fierce battle within him.

"I wasn't going to just leave you here," she dared abandoning all excuses. His heart throbbed. He couldn't have asked for anyone better than her – confronting him, not eluding any of his moods – while at the same time feeling the painful sting of having to argue with her. How he wanted to love without any laws in the way. Without himself in the way.

"You should have – it was evident they asked for you."

"I didn't hear any protests against your coming," she quietly. She hadn't raised her voice once during the day, not for any soldier to hear better and not even now. Reluctant to defend herself against him; as reluctant to fight as he was.

"Because you didn't let them pronounce any," he accused. She had to know how she had made a fool of him; there was no denying that.

"I don't know what you mean." She let her cutlery rattle purposefully. She was an excellent liar if she had to be, but she had never been able to lie to him, not without him noticing. The way she concealed the tone of her voice with additional noise answered his assumption plenty.

"It made me look stupid," he huffed. He still felt stupid. He still heard the gossiping whispers where they circled through his head. "They all knew I wasn't supposed to be there. I heard them. You taking me there showed them just how useless I am now."

"Well, maybe I didn't want to—" She swallowed the rest of her sentence. His eyes widened at how she and nearly yelled at him. Listening intently, he supposed the clinking, followed by a thud on her nightstand, to be her ridding herself of her lunch tray. It clanked, colliding with his untouched one, a piece of cutlery noisily clattering on the ground. Riza gave a frustrated growl.

She surprised him when not getting up to tidy up the mess. Her sheets rustled, a forceful creak of the mattress being the last thing he heard. It took him a moment until he perceived any breathing. Flat, suppressed breathing. Almost as if she was…

He sighed sadly. Feeling even more stupid now, Roy laid down too. He must have been the last person she wanted to be comforted by just then, so he held his tongue. And stayed in bed. Crossed arms hardly relaxing, he remained on his back, blindly staring up towards the ceiling.

It proved hard to ban the thought, even though he really didn't want to believe it, but the way she acted, it was becoming more and more likely that she hadn't dragged him below Central Headquarters solely for his own self-confidence. Maybe, just maybe, he pondered, she simply hadn't wanted to go alone.

Roy slept more soundly than the nights before. His dreams were strange, uncomfortable for sure yet seemed like nothing in comparison to what had his Lieutenant screaming the other night. Exhausted after the trip during the day, he startled when awaking from a movement, rather than a sound.

He winced when his own sheets rustled without him having moved. His eyes flew open, granting him nothing but darkness. Suddenly, he heard her unsuccessfully stifle a hiccupping sob. His eyes widened. A sob? His mind started to race. Was she—

He couldn't finish the thought when weight shifted above him. The mattress sank at two spots, one of her knees to either side of his pelvis. Her scent wafted around him all at once, cold sweat mixed with the lovely smell of her hair as it fell to veil their faces. He hadn't yet managed a single inhale, least of all formed a sole word in his head when her lips were already on his.

And she all but smothered him.

Her breathing was all over the place. Wheezing, panting in a staccato frenzy, she swallowed any more sobbing than what had already escaped her. Somewhat violently, she nearly kissed him senseless, inhaling his lips as much as she crushed them.

Roy capitulated completely. His insides were coiling and twirling and burning madly. His mind was blank. As if controlled by strings, his hands raised to hold her, the back of his subconscious desperate to console her. Accidentally landing too low, he felt the softness of her rear, just below her hips, through the fabric of her hospital clothing.

His senses bolted awake when she quivered at that, sinking down to properly sit on him. His heart's accelerated beating skyrocketed when she mindlessly reacted on what he hadn't intended at all, a grind against his crotch awaking him in more ways than one.

Pulling away as far as he could while being trapped beneath her, his attempts were futile. She pursued, kissing him, suckling on his lips, soon suffocating herself. So he dug his fingers – having been on their way up to embrace her back – into her thighs. Riza moaned. His strategy worked when she had to shortly throw her head back. Her chest was frantically rising and falling. He feared she was going to faint due to hyperventilation.

"Lieutenant," he whispered. But her lips were back on his. Her hands desperately gripped his shoulders, his shirt, his face. Anything they were able to get a hold of, pinching his biceps, clinging to him as if her life depended on it. As if he vanished the second she would let go.

Her body quivered when he gently kneaded her thighs. Her breathing rasped in his ear. Her head had dropped to his neck, forehead smearing sweat along his shoulder. His own chest heaved. He knew that getting her even more worked up was not the right thing to do, but it was the only thing that got her to release him. At least his mouth.

"Lieutenant," he tried anew, "it's alright, I'm fine," he lowly soothed. "We're both okay, nothing happened." He attempted to guess her thoughts. There were probably none at that moment, he realised. She must have had a nightmare again. Their dispute from before returned at that, her sudden assault now evidence of his conjecture – she hadn't just wanted him not to feel cast out, she had needed him there as not to freak out herself.

It had caught up to her anyway.

She shook again, as if a shiver bolted down the length of her spine. In response to his ministrations, she once again shocked him when she scrambled to tear the blanket away from between them. He involuntarily groaned, hips bucking up by themselves as hers rubbed down on them. He opened his mouth to protest, if mildly, knowing she wasn't quite sane as anxiety reigned her actions with acrimonious claws. Not having brought out a word, he was rendered speechless once more by the way she tore at his hospital trousers. Her hands, arms and shoulders were trembling.

Distantly realising how there was no way around her fervent distress, the small part of him that wasn't trapped within her spell conducted a gentler pace. He guided her hands, steadied her whenever sobs caused a vehement tremor, and held her fast after she collapsed. His cheeks burned with hot, sticky tears she had spilled on them. His own eyes were itching ceaselessly.

Never would he let her go beneath Central Headquarters again.

"I can't believe this…" Riza gave an exasperated breath. "Just how stupid—" she mumbled, more to herself. She paced back and forth, then returned. Her steps were uneven, only making his boyish grin broaden. She prodded it with a washcloth. She was cutest when flustered.

"Relax, no one will notice." He ran the soaked and duped cloth over his arms, taken aback yet not opposed when she overtook his neck and shoulders with another. She had been much faster with herself, seeing as he had no idea where the fresh towels were and hardly ever found his way to the sink without stubbing a toe or two. Despite the last night's by far more incriminating circumstances, it had been thrilling to listen to her change and wash herself earlier.

"You should've stopped me – I clearly wasn't thinking straight." The ferocious scrubbing became a gentler dabbing when she continued with his face. Not that he found to have sweated there in particular, but the attention was nice anyway.

"Lieutenant, if a gorgeous woman climbs into my bed – the single most gorgeous woman – straddles my hips and kisses me into oblivion before ridin—"

"Don't spell it out," Riza hissed. It almost made him wince, not least because she had pinched his cheek to underline her point. Still, his smile wouldn't be erased. In a way, it felt like that moment he had started to joke about her crying over him, followed by her sharp dismissal in the face of an undead, very deadly army of murderous soldiers. A smug comment at a time that least needed it, yet feeling right.

They had already been traumatised before – which, of course, didn't mean that this new near-death experience had been any less horrifying – and he felt as if, amongst the two of them, they were ready for a dumb remark or jest. They needed one to cope with it all. Something to belittle their consternation.

"I'm just saying that telling a man—"

"Don't," she cut in. "Don't ever talk about this again and to no one – not even to me, not even to yourself," she faded into a hopelessly helpless sigh. She was more embarrassed than panicked to cover their traces. Embarrassed about having gone completely mad with the fear of having lost him; of having needed proof of him still being there in any form possible. Most of all, she was embarrassed about the form she had chosen.

Hurrying back to their beds once done, they had only just pulled up their blankets when the door opened. No time to pretend to be asleep. Not that it was necessary. Roy spooked when the nurse gasped, hasting to Riza's bedside.

"Your wound!"

"I'm sorry, it must have happened while I was asleep," Riza apologised. Purposefully circumventing what the issue was. Ears perked, Roy had a pretty good idea what this was about. It explained why she had been so keen on washing his face and neck. He gave her a strict, somewhat disappointed look once the nurse had left to gather supplies for an early bandage change.

So then it hadn't only been tears that had dappled down on him.