Disclaimer: I don't own Fullmetal Alchemist, or the song "Everybody Hurts." The version I have on my computer is done by REM.

Author's Note: So, you guys gonna kill me? Before you do, read the chapter and then decide. Oh, btw, today is a friend's birthday. Send her happy wishes!


Chapter 25: Everybody Hurts

A tall form leaned against a brick wall, head bent low. It might have been the chill in the air he was trying to hide from. Or there was always the possibility, especially in that side of town, that he was trying to remain unseen, or at least unrecognized. To have gone unnoticed for as long as he'd been standing there would be a feat for even this man. He was, however, excellent at keeping his identity secret until he wished it known to others. He had used it to his advantage many times to excel in his career. The ability had helped him make it thus far...yet he was still reaching just a little further.

Regardless, he was waiting for someone. He'd been waiting for quite a while now, out in the cold Christmastime air. If he didn't need that person with him before he went to his next destination, the impatient man would have left his current location minutes ago. But, she insisted upon being with him each chance she managed.

It may have worried him of her intentions if he had known her any less, or a different way. But, he knew this woman very well, and was quite acquainted with her intentions and just how far she was willing to go for them. Yes, the man thought as he gingerly fingered the hat on his head, she was not shy when it came to her opinion or intentions.

After a few more minutes of standing in the cold air, leaning against her apartment building, the man pushed away and went for the intercom. None too gently, he jammed the button for her room a few times, holding the last buzz longer than needed, only for emphasis--and his own personal enjoyment. He was more or less annoyed with how long his subordinate was taking to ready herself.

"Hawkeye, are you done yet?" he said hotly into the speaker.

There was a delay in the response. "Sir, surely you, with your unfortunately expansive knowledge of women, would know how long it takes us to dress for a formal event," came Hawkeye's words. Her voice was a little tinny sounding through the intercom system, but it took away none of her annoyance at his impatience.

Captain Roy Mustang sighed loudly and jabbed the button again. "Well, could you hurry up with the process? It's freezing out here." To further his point, though it did him no good on Hawkeye's account, he shivered loudly.

He knew she was right next to the speaker, but she took a longer amount of time to reply than he would have liked. Mustang couldn't help but assume she was mentally telling him to burn some trash to keep himself warm.

"You could come up, sir; it's much warmer than outside." Though the words were suggestive, there was nothing of the like in Hawkeye's voice.

Roy mentally debated with himself. He didn't really want to go up to her apartment for no other reason than he usually felt nervous in a woman's home environment. So he had two choices at the moment: wait while he froze to death outside, or wait in Hawkeye's apartment. Once he tossed his annoying nervous thoughts away, the decision wasn't really hard to make. Being known as the Flame Alchemist, it was a given fact he'd prefer to be warm.

"I'll be up in a minute," he said on a sigh.

After Roy had already stepped into the apartment building, Hawkeye's response came out of the speaker, saying, "You make it sound like a task, Captain." There was a little humor in her voice.

A few minutes later, Roy was stepping into Hawkeye's apartment. It certainly wasn't as lavish or extravagant as his apartment, not by a long shot, but then he highly doubted that Hawkeye was prone to entertaining many guests, especially ones of the opposite sex. But that was fine. Mustang's right hand subordinate didn't need any distractions in the form of male companionship if she was as devoted to him as she swore she was.

"Would you like something to drink, sir?" Hawkeye asked as she locked her apartment door.

Mustang looked at her funnily. "Would it kill you to call me Roy, or even simply Mustang?" he asked, smirking a little.

He saw Hawkeye shrug. "I doubt it would kill me, sir," she said, walking past him.

With a shake of his head, Roy followed her towards the kitchen area of her one-room apartment. "We are friends, Hawkeye. You can at least try to address me as one." The dark haired man helped himself to a glass of water.

There was a silence between them that was neither awkward nor uncomfortable. There was not a lot of "understanding" going on, either, as Roy was wondering about the strong complex Hawkeye had formed when it came to speaking to him. Before they'd started working together, she'd called him Mustang, and occasionally Roy. What had happened?

As for what he thought she was thinking of, he had no clue what was on his only woman friend's mind as she went about her apartment.

He hadn't noticed when he first came in that she was walking about, fully dressed in a long, midnight blue gown. The split in the side went up to her mid thigh, which showed off a great deal of leg. It showed off more probably than she realized, he guessed, else she likely would not have been wearing it.

As Roy continued to watch her almost aimlessly milling about the room, he decided she did know how high that split went on her. If she moved a certain way, Roy almost thought he saw a gun holster strapped to her thigh. That made him laugh quietly. The woman was always prepared.

The slightly unexpected noise made Hawkeye look at him, if a little surprised. "What are you laughing at?" she asked, self-consciously patting herself down in case something was out of place.

Roy shook his head. He set his half-drained glass of water on the counter behind him and began to cross the room. "You," he told her simply, grinning at her. "You look like you're ready to leave, yet you're still walking around like there's something you still have to do." He paused as he folded his arms across his chest. "Something wrong?"

"It's just..." Hawkeye trailed off, looking down at the floor uneasily.

He shifted his weight to one foot and put his arms at his side. "What?" If it'd been any other time and they were at the office and she was acting this way, Roy probably would have told her to ignore whatever was bothering her. But, they weren't at the office, and it wasn't any other time. They were in her apartment, and it was before the Christmas party. They were no longer bound by the title of co-workers. They were just friends now, and friends didn't let each other be sad.

Hawkeye held her silence, and Roy sighed. Since they weren't at the office, also, he couldn't order her to speak. He had to coax the information out of the woman. And if there was anything Roy Mustang knew, it was women. He blatantly ignored that the woman before him was unlike any other he'd ever met.

So he lifted his hand and touched her arm. "Riza," he said in hopes that using her first name would push along the process of finding out whatever information that was bothering her. "You can talk to me if you need to."

She sighed and shook her head. After a moment, she brushed his hand away. Roy thought that he might have seen a blush on her cheeks. That confused him a little. He didn't think he'd ever seen Hawkeye blush. "Let's go," she said, looking up at him suddenly. She seemed to have recovered from whatever had been bothering her, or at least pushed it away.

As the woman went towards the door, Roy sighed and folded his arms over his chest again. "Riza," he said again, looking up at her while she undid the locks.

"We'll be late, sir, if we don't hurry up," she said, her voice having returned to it's usual formal, rank-respectful tone.

With a sigh, Roy nodded and went out into the hallway. He let her lock the door from the outside before he went towards the stairs. There was something bothering Hawkeye, but he just couldn't say what it was. It was a little vexing that Roy couldn't figure it out, but he supposed that he had never actually spent enough time considering a woman's feelings and thoughts. He'd only been with a woman long enough to obtain what he wanted then somewhat gracefully ended things once he was bored with her.

So, Roy guessed it was his fault that he was not doing a very good job in his attempts at figuring out what could possibly be on his friend's mind.


The Christmas party was held in a ritzy hotel ballroom. It was decorated appropriately for a police station get together, complete with a bowl of spiked eggnog in a corner of the room. Some of the officers were in street clothes; others were in slightly more dressy, but casual clothing. A select few were in formal evening wear. Roy looked down at his black slacks and deep burgundy, button-up shirt. It was a little wrinkled and messily tucked into his pants, but still thought he looked pretty appealing. As he gazed around the room and saw the amounts of female eyes set on him, single and with dates alike, Roy mused that they agreed with him, as well. If only one other woman would look at him with those eyes.

The dark haired man cast his eyes around the room once more. It was elaborately decked in Christmas decorations to the point of it almost being too much. But, Roy thought to himself, it would be more trash for him to burn once the ballroom was cleaned up. So, it wasn't all horribly bad.

"Captain Mustang!" a familiar voice shouted from the other side of the ballroom. A shorter man with black, spiky hair and thick, black glasses was rushing towards Roy. Kain Fuery. "Can you help me?" he asked.

Roy shifted his weight on his feet and looked around. There were now more female eyes on him. Usually the alchemist was the hunter, and women were his prey. But tonight, the tables had turned and he felt, very much, like the hunted. All because Fuery had shouted his name.

The lionesses began to stalk their prey. Roy looked about anxiously for an escape. His eyes landed on a vaguely illuminated sign at the other end of the room. Even though it had one word on it, "Men's," it had a completely different meaning to him. To Roy, that word meant "haven."

He looked down at Hawkeye. "Excuse me," he said politely and rushed through a handful of women that would very likely ask him to dance with them at some point that night. He almost ran straight into Fuery, who was desperately pleading with him to stop and listen.

"It will only take you a minute, sir," he was saying.

Roy shook his head, his destination, his safe house, coming closer with each hurried step. He cast a glance over his shoulder and saw that the huntresses were taking pursuit for him. With a sigh, he shook his head at his subordinate. "Sorry. Emergency," he said as he pushed open the door.

It swung shut behind him with a satisfying whoosh and thud. Roy let out a relieved sigh. Being a drop-dead gorgeous male was not an easy job, or for the faint of heart and weak of knees. He turned his face to inspect himself in the mirror. Gingerly, he reached up to adjust his tie a little as a flushing noise came to his ears. Roy's hands went immediately to his heart, his paranoia and most recent state of being pursued still in affect. But when Havoc walked into sight with his trademark cigarette clamped between his lips, Roy let out another relieved breath. "Just you," he said.

Havoc smirked a little as he washed his hands. When he finished, he reached up up to tap the ash from his cigarette into the sink. "Hey, Captain," he said, taking a drag on the stick of nicotine again, "Looking good."

A muscle under Roy's eye twitched. Havoc never dished out compliments without a reason. Whenever the blond man was overly nice, it always made people wary of his actions. A little harsh to think maybe, to immediately assume Havoc was up to something, but nine times out of eleven, he was. And it sometimes was not in the best of interest to be on the receiving end of his pranks.

So Roy looked up at Havoc expectantly. The two were long time friends and wouldn't mind if the other jumped to the punch about a suspicion. "What do you want, Havoc?" the charcoal haired man asked, still scowling a little.

Havoc shrugged innocently. "Just thought you should know, I brought a friend with me tonight," he said easily. "You might like her."

Roy turned his scowl to Havoc, directly now. "Are you trying to set me up?" he asked, annoyance in his voice. There were plenty of women out there who would have been more than willing to take that task upon their small shoulders.

In a defensive manner, the blond held up his hands. "Of course not! I just thought I'd let you know, since she's...well, she's quite an interesting person."

"How so?" Roy asked, not being able to hide his curiosity. Havoc's friends were always interesting, but sometimes, they were, well, not as interesting as others. Which was sometimes good.

Havoc seemed to stall for a few moments as he took a slow drag on his cigarette. He blew it out in a leisurely manner. Mustang blinked through the smoke. He was about to burn the rest of the cigarette for the man when Havoc finally spoke.

"She's a hypnotist," Havoc said at last.

Roy turned to walk away, but Havoc began talking again.

"I was wondering...the method she uses is a little different. Could she hypnotize you first, so everyone will see it's fine?" Havoc looked at Roy with a hopeful smile. Roy returned it with a glare.

"No," he said simply, turning to walk away again.

Before anyone else could speak, Hughes suddenly appeared in front of Roy from seemingly nowhere. Roy grabbed his heart again as though to ward off a heart attack.

"Come on, Roy," Hughes cajoled. "I'll give you a picture of my beautiful daughter to always have with you. And you can hold onto it while she hypnotizes you, so you'll think about my darling daughter!" The man reached into his jacket pocket for his inexhaustible stash of pictures.

Roy shook his head quickly. Would the attacks never cease? "No," he said again quickly, holding up his hands. there was absolutely no reason for Hughes to pull out the picture, because fifty more would follow. But Hughes and Havoc, both, seemed determined to make Roy to let the woman hypnotize him. So Roy sighed.

"I'll talk to everyone," he conceded, frowning.

Hughes and Havoc looked at one another for a moment and nodded. The small look that the two exchanged suddenly seemed threatening to Roy's health. However, the other two men both started toward the door.

"Did you see the woman in the red dress?" Havoc asked either of the men. "She looks..." He made the shape of an hourglass with his hands.

Hughes shook his head. "I have eyes only for my beautiful wife," he said dreamily.

Roy rolled his eyes. He couldn't overcome the fact that Hughes was such an excellent police officer while he was so obsessed with his family. It was almost disgusting. No one who saw him on the field, gun drawn and his grimly determined look to subdue whomever he had to plastered over his face would not believe it when they saw him gush over a photograph of his daughter. Or vice versa for some, those who only saw him on a friend-to-friend basis. However, Roy knew Hughes both ways, and still had troubles grasping the concept.

Havoc, on the other hand, was sometimes serious and usually, well, up to something. He was a good subordinate, however, and Roy was glad to have him on the force. Regardless, there were times that the younger man was rather...overly ambitious of something that Roy wanted to strangle the younger man.

And as the three men exited the bathroom, Roy realized now...was one of those times.

"Everyone! Captain Mustang has decided to test the hypnosis!" Havoc suddenly announced. The spirit of many individuals heightened.

Roy's jaw dropped. "I did not," he said almost venomously.

Hughes and Havoc turned as one to Roy. "But, back in the bathroom, you said you would." Hughes' eyes widened sadly.

Mustang scowled. "I said I'd talk to them. If they're afraid of fire, why are they working with me?" He lifted one of his suddenly gloved hands and snapped, making a small amount of fire appear at the end of Havoc's cigarette and burning it. There were chuckles around the room. Havoc casually pulled out a new stick of nicotine and lit it.

Fuery walked up to Mustang, his eyes wide and sad looking. "But...but," he pleaded as moisture welled in his eyes, "Captain--"

Havoc stepped forward. "Sir," he interrupted, "your men are looking up to you, to embrace and take away their fear. You won't just let them down like this, will you?" The blond paused dramatically. "If you don't do this, sir, they may never be able to look at you the same again, always having a fear of fire."

There was a tense silence in which Mustang felt all eyes upon him. He was waiting for someone to burst into tears, shout at him, or something. When nothing happened, he decided to scan the room for any expressions of uneasiness or extremely upset people. What he saw, in the very corner of the room, was a young woman, sitting with her head bowed. Her hair, which seemed to be two different colors, brown and pink, cascaded over her face like a curtain. She was dressed slightly strangely, out of place for the event. Even though there were people in street dress to formal wear, she just looked different.

A sudden voice, a very familiar and unexpected one intruded Roy's thoughts. He turned his head to see none other than Edward Elric, looking fit as a fiddle near the entrance. Apparently, he'd just arrived with Miss Rockbell at his side. Edward was saying, "What's the matter, Captain? The Flame isn't afraid of a little bit of fire, is he?"

Roy's eye twitched a little. "Not as afraid as you will be when I'm finished with you," he threatened with a menacing glare sent Edward's way. He sighed when he felt more insisting gazes on him. He didn't want to give in, but...there were so many people bothering him about it. "Fine," he conceded at last. Relieved sighs and expressions filled the room. Roy cast an indifferent look at Edward now, who smirked knowingly. "Where is she?"

Havoc smiled triumphantly as he gestured to a corner of the room, towards the woman Roy had looked at only a few moments earlier. Coincidence? Maybe. Roy's ability to spot a pretty girl across a large room filled with people? Quite possibly. Knowing one of Havoc's friends just from her face? Most likely.

"Fine," Roy said with a reluctant sounding tone.

The woman crossed the room when Havoc motioned for her. The woman, the blond man, Roy, and Hughes found a table in a different corner of the room. A few people followed. When Roy sat down, he saw Riza across from him. Breda looked skeptical of the whole scenario, but he stood next to Fuery. The small man had a nervous expression on his face. Falman stood behind Fuery. The light haired man looked ready to pounce with a scientific explanation for something. The man would have made a great alchemist if he'd had the genes for it.

Beside those four appeared Edward and Miss Rockbell. Roy made a mental note to interrogate the younger man concerning the case on the diva. Seeing Edward's annoyed and flustered expression would be good for Roy after this frustrating incident.

Hughes stood behind Riza's chair, itching to show pictures of his daughter.

Finally, Havoc moved next to Roy, his hypnotist friend beside him.

"Captain," he began, "this is Roze. She's from Lior, and is in town visiting the orphanage."

Roy twitched. "The...orphanage?" There was a decent orphanage in Central?

Havoc nodded. "Yeah. Since things are so bad in Lior, a bunch of the children were moved here. She wanted to visit them."

The phrase almost left his mouth, but Roy held back the slightly self-condemning words. He had been about to say, "And Central is any better?" but nodded instead. He placed his hands on the table. Everyone flinched at the action. "Well," he said, looking up at Roze, "let's get this over with."

She nodded and sat down in the seat next to him. Carefully, she moved her chair so she was facing him and gestured for him to do the same. When Roze set her gaze on him, Roy felt a little nervous. Her red eyes were so piercing. Her voice, when she spoke, was very soft and soothing.

"Tell me a color that comforts you," she said softly.

Roy thought for a moment. A comforting color? "Blue?" he tried. His apartment wasn't exactly decorated in much color. Sure, his room was blue, but he didn't spend much time staring at his walls.

He saw Roze look around and nod. When she turned her gaze back to him, she was holding a small, decorative steel lighter. There was a rose etched onto the sides, and a sun on the cap. She flicked it open ignited it.

"Look at the flame," she said, her voice taking on a different tone. Her voice was a little more melodic now, flowing more than it had been before. It almost made him sleepy. "Concentrate on the flame, and the flame only."

Roy could do nothing but comply as his mind shut out the rest of the room around him. The music the live band had been playing became a dull hum. The voices around him, some curious and some not paying any mind the what was going on, were now a quiet buzz. He forgot about the people around him. All he knew was the dancing fire before him.

It was very soothing to actually look at a fire for once, rather than to create one for a destructive use. This small light was beautiful, flickering every so often when a breath of air teased it. It was very...disturbing.

As Roy began to lose himself in the fire, a memory began to set in his mind. It took hold of his consciousness, and he was lost.


Roy could almost feel the heat from the fires on his cheeks again. Blood was caked on his hands, staining his once white gloves. The transmutation circle on the top of his hands blended in, almost impossible to see now. The sound of roaring fires increased in his ears, overcoming all other sound. As Roy's eyes shut, closing out the world around him, the flames came into sight.

The room around him was burning, burning out of control. There was no way he could make it stop, no way he could decrease the amount of flame surrounding him.

There was a cry from across the room. Roy's head whipped in that direction, searching for the source of the noise. He went carefully across the room, though it was hard to say exactly from where the cry had come.

Sweat trickled down his face and body, soaking his clothing and hair. The flames were so great, the flames he had created, they singed his dark locks and the blue of his uniform.

When Roy had run into the building, it had been an impulsive action, one he hadn't thought over for more than a second. He'd only been doing his job at first. The building was condemned, and needed to be destroyed. One way to do it was to set it to flames. The old apartment complex wouldn't hold very long against Roy Mustang's flames.

But when a few children had come to him and the other police officers, eyes wide in fear, Roy had known immediately something had been wrong. A child, a little girl, had still been in the building, they'd told him. That was when he had run into the soon to-be inferno, ignoring the yells of his subordinates.

And now Roy found himself, crossing a room that could collapse at any moment.

A burning beam fell in front of him. Roy jumped back quickly to avoid the flames spattering at him. He heard the scream from the little girl again, from the corner of the room. He wasn't too far.

"Hold on!" he shouted to her, trying to be heard over the flames. "I'm coming!" Roy stopped and coughed violently. His lungs hurt so badly; the black smoke was too much on his poor insides. But still, he pressed forward, determined. He couldn't let this little girl die.

He was almost there. The corner of the room was almost right in front of him. Just a little further, Roy told himself as he carefully stepped over a piece of burning debris.

The man quickly pulled his leg back from where he'd almost stepped. Looking down, he saw a hole, wreathed in flame. Through the hole, he saw at least two stories down. When he raised his gaze once more, he saw the little girl, face blackened in ash and tears streaking down her cheeks. She was huddled in the corner, wailing hoarsely. Her hand was stretched out to Roy, in desperate need of his help.

Roy looked at her, down at the hole, and then around him. He couldn't find an alternative way over to her. There was nothing he could use to cover the hole, and it was too wide for him to jump. He turned his gaze back to the girl, who was still screaming for help. Tears were in her big, dark eyes. She wouldn't look away. Roy couldn't look away. He stood, motionless, staring into her orbs for what felt like an eternity. Her screams filled his ears and he was unable to block them out. Each wail scratched into his memory, forever there for him to mournfully cherish for all his life.

But he couldn't give up on her yet. Roy inched as far as he dared towards the hole, moving as close to the girl as he could. Maybe...just maybe he could reach her. He braced himself with his hand on a hopefully sturdy beam and stretched his arm out to her.

"Come on, reach!" he shouted at her. "Move closer!" A strained, determined look touched Roy's face as he stretched himself more to try to reach her. The girl didn't move. She merely kept her hand out, but made no effort to go closer. Roy swore.

This wasn't working. The fire was slowly consuming the building whole. If they didn't make it out of there very, very soon, then they wouldn't make it out at all. The heat was making him dizzy, as was the amount of smoke in the air. He couldn't do this.

"I can't do this," he said to himself, and hung his head. "I'm sorry." Roy looked up at the little girl sadly. She started screaming again, but for a completely different reason.

The smell of burning hair and flesh entered Roy's nose suddenly. He'd smelled it before, but not so closely. This time, it was right in front of him, rather than yards away, or even just inside a hospital room. This time, he could see.

He saw the girl, as the fire licked at her. The only thought in Roy's mind was that the flames were his.


"Roy!"

A hand across the face brought the man out of his memory. He was startled at first, trying to remember where he was when it came back to him. The Christmas party, Hawkeye, the hypnotist. He lifted his hand to his head, but immediately pulled it away. There was sweat on his face.

"What happened?" he mumbled.

He heard someone begin to reply, most likely Roze, but he shook his head as it came back in flashes. The building, the fire, the children...the girl. Roy shuddered.

"Sir?" He heard Hawkeye's voice from across the table as she stood.

Roy didn't answer. He jumped up from his chair and ran out of the room, pushing past anyone who was in his way. The man didn't know where he was going. He was lost. The sea of thoughts, of memories plaguing his consciousness was too much for him to wade through to dry land.

He pushed through double doors, faintly registering the loud smack as they hit the walls. His mind was more set on that bench across the room in an empty corner. Roy made his way over there without hesitation.

He sat as far away from the groups of people as he could in the hotel lobby. His head was between his knees, shoulders shaking. He looked positively pitiful. But Roy Mustang felt worse than pitiful. He felt guilty; he felt tortured; he felt...he felt like a failure. A failure as a police officer and a failure as a man. He'd let her down. He'd let that little girl down. He hadn't been able to save her then from the flames he'd created. In a way, he had been the one to take her life, he'd been the one to trap her in that burning inferno of a building.

All for some selfish want.

Roy was startled when he felt a hand on his shoulder. He looked up to find Riza looking down at him with a slightly unreadable gaze. After a few moments of feeling her eyes upon him, Roy saw that they softened a little.

"What did you see, sir?" she asked, sitting on the bench beside him. Her voice was soothing, but in a way unlike Roze's had been. While the hypnotist's voice had been soft in a slightly eerie sort of way, Riza's voice was soft in a comforting sort of way.

With a sigh, Roy hung his head again, staring between his knees at the tile floor. The red and orange blocks reminded him of flames. Again, he saw the fire he couldn't extinguish, and the sound of the little girl's screams filled his mind. He shuddered, his hands unconsciously reaching for his head. He wanted to drown out the noise, drown out her screams so he wouldn't have to live with the memory of what he'd done, and what he couldn't do, forever.

"I saw her, Riza," he whispered, nails biting into his skin around his ears. "I saw the building, the flames; everything." Roy swallowed. He slowly lifted his gaze to Riza's. "I saw her eyes as she stared at me, pleading for the help I couldn't give her."

Roy looked into Riza's deep brown eyes, seeking something in the depths of color. He might have been seeking comfort, but he didn't find it. The flames found him there, somehow. The charred walls formed once again in the alchemist's mind, blazing orange licking at them and melting the paint. Roy looked away again, shivering.

He took a deep breath, attempting to calm himself, to overcome the flames again, and the horror and guilt they brought him. He'd done it once, though it had been hard; he could surely do it again. And he would.

"I can do this," he whispered to himself, trying to convince himself that he could do it. There was a little place in his mind, though, that was slowly growing. It had a little voice that increased in volume as it grew. It was whispering to him, telling him that he couldn't do it, that the memory would never go away.

It was her voice.

Roy covered his ears again, his nails making grooves in his scalp once more around his ears. He felt the pain the action caused, but it was nothing compared to the pain he felt for what he hadn't been able to do, years ago. It tore at him, trying to eat him alive. He felt like he was alone, trying to face this pain, this part of his past.

He was startled again when he felt a firm, but comforting embrace around his shoulders. Roy opened his eyes and looked around. He saw slender arms around him. The alchemist turned his gaze and saw Riza. A slightly confused look touched onto Roy's face as he looked at her. This was...strange.

"...Riza?" He looked at her inquisitively, but didn't try to pull out of her arms.

She opened her eyes and looked at him. "You aren't alone...Roy," she whispered to him.


A few hours later, Roy was stumbling up the stairs to his apartment with Riza's arm around his waist to support him. He was glad, not for the first time, that he was only on the second floor of his apartment building. But still, did he really need her help?

"I'm fine!" he insisted as they started down the hallway. He looked down at Riza and nodded, trying to convince her to nod with him.

Riza lifted her free hand and waved it in front of her face. "No, you're not," she replied for what was probably the tenth time since they'd started. Roy was tired of hearing it.

"Let me walk on my own, and I'll show you," he slurred. "I feel great." He smirked a little.

He heard Riza sigh. "Fine, walk," she said reluctantly.

Roy grinned triumphantly at her as she took her arm from around his waist. He lifted his foot to step forward, but lost his balance. He held up his hand as he swayed to the side. "I..." he trailed off as Riza shoved her shoulder against him to hold him up.

In the process of his leaning and Riza trying to hold him up, somehow they both lost their balance again. Riza fell back against the wall with Roy leaning against her, hands on either side of her head.

There was a single, silent moment between them, in which their eyes were locked. Dark, charcoal stared into warm brown. This time, there were no flames to torment Roy. Instead, he saw his own reflection, hazed in hesitance.

Slowly, Roy took one of his hands from against the wall and moved it closer to her face. Maybe...maybe her skin was as soft as it looked.

Before he could find out, Riza lifted her hand and pushed his away. "Come on, sir," she said quietly. "You're drunk. You need to sleep it off."

He shook his head at her. "I swear to drunk I'm not God," he told her, jabbing his thumb into his chest. That made him sway a little.

She shook her head and pulled away from the wall, yanking him down the hallway. With a sigh, Roy complied and continued to walk with her to his door.

When they reached the door, he reached in his pocket for his keys and fumbled for the right one. Even in his current state, he could see the annoyed look growing on Riza's face as he barely managed to shove the key into the lock. He opened the door and stumbled in.

"Almost there," he heard Riza say from beside him. She had her arm around his waist again, leading him towards his couch. When they were at the side, she gingerly helped him down onto the cushions. Roy let his hand slide from behind her back down to his chest and was ready to pass out. But after a few moments of feeling an annoying twitch at his side, he turned onto his back.

A moment later, there was a sudden weight on his chest. Roy exhaled sharply and opened his eyes. His vision was bleary, but he managed to see Riza's face, inches from his, deep red. He heard her swallow as their eyes met.

In the same manner as before in the hallway, but with a little hesitance on his part now, Roy lifted his hand to Riza's cheek. This time, he was able to touch her skin. It was soft like silk beneath his fingers, and warm from her blush.

"Sir, I don't think--"

Roy shook his head, quieting her. "Shh." He slipped his hand back into her hair carefully so he cupped the back of her head. With the same gentleness, he pulled her head close to his. Just before their lips touched, though, Roy stopped movement, in case Riza wanted to pull away. He had never forced a woman to do anything she didn't want to do. He wasn't about to start now.

Riza didn't pull away; nor did she move any closer. Through his hazy vision, Roy could see another hesitant look in her brown eyes. He, however, took it as a good sign since she wasn't trying to move. So, he pulled her head closer to his until their lips touched.

It was a very brief touch at first, a little surprising. But once the initial shock died down, Roy engaged the kiss once more, trying to be gentle in his inebriated state. And despite his drunkenness, Roy did feel he knew what he was doing. He carefully placed his other hand at her waist, fingers gently kneading at the small of her back.

The kiss was a new experience. The thrill of kissing someone new tinged the air around them. Roy had kissed plenty of women in the past, but somehow, kissing Riza was just...different. But, it was different in a good way. He actually liked the feeling.

Carefully, and still a little hesitantly, Roy parted his lips beneath hers and traced the line of her mouth with his tongue. It was only a few moments until she responded. He felt her mouth open above his almost automatically. Almost immediately after her movement, Roy touched his tongue to hers. He shivered.

But just as the alchemist could feel the passion about to increase, Riza suddenly pulled away.

She quickly jumped to her feet. Roy opened his eyes and sat up a little. He saw her straightening her dress intently, like the balance of the world depended on it.

"Riza," he mumbled. Why had she pulled away so suddenly. Roy lifted his hand to his spinning head. He could feel the hangover already.

When Riza spoke, it was quietly, as though she was afraid to increase the volume of her voice for fear of breaking something. "You're drunk. Sleep it off," she whispered.

And with that, she was gone. Roy couldn't have said how long it took her to snatch up her coat and purse and leave, but it couldn't have been more than twenty seconds before he heard his door shut. With a groan, the dark haired man fell back onto the couch.

Before he had time to fuss at himself, unconsciousness stole him away. His problems were no more.


Surprised? This chappy was sort of the equivalent of the "Phantom of Warehouse 13" epi...anyway, hope you enjoyed. Next, we should be back to our Ed/Win goodness, somewhat. Until then.