Originally Published: February 18, 2021

Last Edited: September 1, 2022

A/N: Domestic Violence Trigger Warning. This story is rated M for a reason.

As always, thank you for the favorites, follows, and reviews, they mean a lot to me! Enjoy Chapter 5!

Chapter 5

Breaking Point

Sunday, December 14, 1902

Riza sat curled up on a sofa in the front room. Her pencil skirt hugged to her thighs, keeping her curvy legs covered above the knees. Her shirt was tight over her breasts, tugging as she sat over a worn book, Ulden inscribed on the spine, the gold lettering fading with use.

Quick steps on wooden flooring drew her eyes upward. Berthold slammed the front door open, cold air pouring in as he panted for breath. "RIZA! RI- good, you're here," he stopped yelling when he realized she was right there. She tensed slightly as he swiftly stepped over to her. "Riza, I- I need your help. Wait, before that I need something from the market." He seemed manic, his blues eyes flitted about with a crazed energy as he began to pace the living room.

"Do you need me to get something for you?" she asked, confused as she uncurled from the sofa and set her book on the side table. Her father never asked for help, and his energy left her feeling uncomfortable. Was he having one of his frenzies? Her arms ached just at the thought.

"No, it's something I need to get myself. Just- stay here. I need your help when I get back," and just as quickly as he arrived, he left. Riza frowned as he left the door open in his wake. Standing, she moved to the doorway, watching him half jog down the snow covered path to the road, the early morning air biting her skin.

Quietly, she closed the door, uneasy. After a moment of deliberation, she moved to the kitchen, picking up the phone. "Operator speaking."

"Please connect me to Madame Christmas's Bar in East City," Riza requested, glancing over her shoulder as she nervously twisted the cord around her finger.

"Of course. Please hold," the operator offered. After several long moments, the sound of a phone being picked up came through.

"Hello, this is Madame Christmas, how can-"

"Ms. Mustang, it's Riza Hawkeye. Is Roy there?"

"Oh, Riza! It's nice to hear your voice. Hmm, Roy just left for the day. He's applying at the Military Academy," Riza's brow furrowed at this news.

So he planned to go through with it after all.

"Do you know when he'll be back?"

"I honestly don't, dear. Is there a message I can leave for him?"

Riza's stomach sank, the skin on her neck prickling. "I don't think it'll do much to leave a message."

"Riza- are you in trouble? You know I'll come out there if you need help. The train ride is nothing to me."

"No please, don't trouble yourself," she rushed, worried she would actually do just that.

"Hmm... perhaps you should check in on a neighbor if you need help. Who was it Roy always talks so fondly of? Oh, Mr. Bishara. I'm certain he'd be willing to help you out if you need it."

Riza grimaced, her stomach plummeting with the suggestion. Mr. Bishara had been 'encouraged' by some Military Officers to return back to Ishval after that poor child had been killed last year. It had taken him a few months, but he'd eventually left after continued harassment. Without his warm smile and beautiful bouquets, Riza had stopped visiting her mother's grave weekly, leaving another void in her life. "Thank you for the suggestion, Ms. Mustang. I'll go do that."

"I'll have Roy call you back when he gets home."

"Thank you. I should get going."

"Of course, dear. Stay safe!" Riza hung up the phone, her hands trembling slightly. She took a steadying breath, calculating her options. Ms. Kent was out of town for Winter Solstice, not that Riza expected the woman would have done anything to help in the situation. And sure, a lot of the townsfolk liked Riza, but she was very aware of the fear her father instilled in the community. If she was scared of him, they would be terrified. She couldn't ask for them to risk themselves to help her.

Moving to step away from the phone, a pair of strong arms wrapped around her, pinning her arms to her side as a hand pressed a cloth against her nose and mouth.

She gave a muffled scream, struggling against her assailant, thrashing and kicking wildly. A grunt came next to her ear, the pleading voice of her father sending ice through her veins. "Calm down, Riza. I need your help," he insisted, holding her firmly.

Fear rippled through her as she tried to fight him off, her muscles growing weak. Breathing was hard with the cloth and hand he held over her mouth, a distinct almond taste hitting the back of her throat. Her heart began racing, hot and cold coursing through her. She hadn't been this physically close with her father since he'd killed her mother. What was he doing? Where was Roy? Her eyes grew heavy as she tried to scream again, energy seeping out of her as her vision grew dark.

Her back stung, skin burning uncomfortably. Groaning, she opened her eyes, realizing she was face down on her bed, her torso bare. Her head throbbed as she pushed herself up, the surface of her back protesting as she climbed out of the sheets covering up to her waist.

It was dim in her room, the dark of night leaving no light to filter in from the window. A dim, yellow glow came from the hall though, giving her enough to see by as she stumbled to her dresser mirror, confused by her pain. It reminded her of pins and needles. Had she fallen on a patch of nettles? She couldn't remember doing that. The last thing she really remembered was reading Ulden on the sofa after breakfast.

Reaching the mirror, she turned her back to it, looking over her shoulder. Her eyes widened in shock at the red lines carved on her back. From the nape of her neck to the small of her back was an alchemy array. Her knees grew weak, a few trails of blood only reinforcing her horror as a scream ripped from her throat.

Footsteps pounded on the wooden floor of the second story, her door flinging open. Her father was there, his face shadowed in the dim light. She turned to him, arm crossing her breasts as she opened her dresser and fumbled for the first piece of cloth she could find. Covering her chest, dizzy from shock, she blurted out, "What did you do to me?"

"I did it, Riza. I've perfected Flame Alchemy." He stepped into her room, a triumphant look on his face, that frenzied light to his blue eyes.

She looked back over her shoulder at the array, her eyes widening. "So you carved it into my skin!"

"It's a tattoo, sweetheart. It'll heal quickly."

"You didn't even ask for my permission! I don't want this! Give it to Mr. Mustang! Give it to the Military! Anyone but me!"

Her vision flashed red as she staggered to the ground with the force of his blow. Trembling on her knees, clutching the cloth over her chest, she flinched belatedly. "You ungrateful child!" he spat, his voice venom, "Give it to the Military? With this war starting in Ishval, think of what they'd do to the rebels. They'd burn them alive, like they burned your mother." Her cheek throbbed hotly as she was too stunned for tears. She kept her eyes down, feeling small.

She knew- he could do the same thing to her that he'd done to her mother all those years ago. And if he really had perfected it, his attack on her would be intentional, where her mother's had been an accident.

He crouched down before her, grabbing her chin roughly, forcing her to meet his eyes. "As for Roy, he's not ready for this. I don't know if he ever will be. That's for you to decide. You know the danger you carry on your back- only you have the ability to share this knowledge. I've burned all my notes. All my research. I will never speak of it to anyone. It's your responsibility to decide who is worthy of my research. Who is worthy to be a Flame Alchemist."

"That's- not fair," she gasped, horrified by his words.

"NOT FAIR?" he bellowed, Riza flinching as his spittle sprayed her face. He gripped both of her arms painfully tight, shaking her roughly. She hunched her shoulders, trying to keep her head and neck steady. "It's not fair that your mother's dead! It's not fair the Military will never pay for what they did! It's not fair I didn't have the answers back then!"

He shoved her backwards, the back of her head roughly smacking the dresser behind her. Head splitting with pain, something slammed on her arm and shoulder, a sharp crashing sound filling the air. She flinched, raising her arms to cover her head, sharp shards stabbing into her arm and side with the movement.

"Elizabeth!" Berthold gasped. The weight pressing into her shoulder was suddenly shoved off, Riza daring to open her eyes to see the mirror which had been on the top of her dresser shattered across the ground. Her father kneeled over her, panic in his eyes as he gently grabbed her arms.

"Don't touch me!" she shrieked, recoiling from his touch, pressing her neck and shoulders against the dresser, her head throbbing sharply.

He started, pulling back as if burned. He blinked, Riza recognizing the realization in his eyes, his frenzy fading as he looked over her, lips parted in horror. She stayed where she was, shaking, glass cutting into her skin with every subtle movements. Her back burned. Her cheek stung. Her head throbbed.

He swallowed hard, his Adam's apple bobbing with the effort. "Riza, I..."

"Get out," she exhaled, her throat squeaking as tears began to well up in her eyes.

"Let me help you," he begged, desperation in his eyes.

"Why should I?" The words ripped from her throat, the sound raw and unrestrained. "Why do you care? Because I look like her? Because I have your precious research on my back?"

His jaw tightened, anger flooding his frame. "How dare you talk to your father that way?"

"You're not my father!" she snapped back, "You're a monster. I wish those soldiers had taken me away, because my father died when you killed her."

The color drained from his face, his eyes widening and shoulders tensing. A fury burned behind his gaze, Riza's stomach plummeting as she shrunk away from him.

Monday, December 15, 1902

Roy stepped through the snow up to the short wooden gate, pausing as he looked up at the Hawkeye home. He'd called Riza back the night before once his aunt had told him about the peculiar call from her. No one had answered, and he couldn't shake the feeling something was very wrong. Opening the gate, he walked down the path to the familiar, small house. He stepped onto the porch, not bothering to knock as he opened the door and stepped in.

"Hello? Anyone home?" he asked, knocking his boots slightly to get the snow off.

"Roy?" Riza's voice sounded weak, coming from the kitchen.

"Hey, Reez. How are you do-ing?" he trailed off as he stepped into the kitchen, an unspoken tension in the air he couldn't identify.

Riza was standing over a cutting board, working on slicing some potatoes. She was wearing a light blue blouse with loose, long sleeves. He'd only seen her wear it in the summer before, and the fabric was much too lightweight for the winter chill. As she turned to him, he froze at the sight of the dark bruise covering the left side of her face.

"I thought you weren't coming this week," she turned to face him properly and he could see the swelling on her cheek bone. Several small cuts decorated her complexion as well, her lower lip split and scabbed over.

"What did he do to you?" he breathed, Riza meeting his question with a confused expression. "What did he do to you!" he repeated in a bellow, causing her to flinch. He bit his tongue, scolding himself.

"I don't know what you're talking about?" Her gaze ducked, her shoulders tensing. She winced, forcing herself to relax.

He controlled his temper, jaw clenching. "That bruise on your face. Are you hiding more on your arms?"

"Roy, I slipped on some ice and my cheek hit a stone. I'm sore but I'm fine." He knew she was lying, her eyes avoiding his, her head down.

"I've seen how you hide your bruises," he softened his tone, taking a step towards her, delicately lifting his hand to her less injured cheek, caressing a cut with his thumb. "Riza, you have to get out. He won't stop. You don't have to care for him. Not with how he treats you."

Her gaze lifted, pain behind her eyes as she lifted a hand to cover his. "You're leaving, aren't you." He gave no answer as she pulled his hand from her face. "I can't follow. Not yet."

"Reez..."

The creaking of the wooden steps out the back porch interrupted him, Riza cringing at the sound, almost ducking behind him. He turned his attention there as Berthold opened the door. "I thought I heard talking. I thought you weren't coming this week, Roy."

Roy's hands tightened into fists. "Master Hawkeye, I wished to speak with you about my training."

Berthold watched him with steady eyes before beckoning Roy to follow him, moving towards his study. Roy glanced back at Riza, who had turned back to her potatoes, picking up her knife hastily, her hands trembling. He gritted his teeth before leaving the room.

As Roy stepped into the study, Berthold looked over a bookshelf, plucking an alchemy anthology from it. "I'm not sure I can teach you much more, Roy," he offered in a casual tone, "You've learned quite a bit. Your Healing Alchemy could use work, but I can't help you there. You just need to practice more on your own."

"What about Flame Alchemy?"

Berthold's back was to Roy, and he paused with his words. "She told you?"

"I figured it out myself, years ago. Your books and notes on Flame Alchemy... they're gone." Roy swiftly redirected the conversation. He didn't want Berthold to strike at Riza again for something she'd told him years ago, and the lie came easily enough. Roy had observed many signs that Riza had been correct about the Flame Alchemy, and now the empty spaces on the shelves seemed like abysses. "You cracked it?"

Berthold turned to him, a gleam to his eyes. "Yes. It is the only thing I have not taught you."

"But...?"

"I have no intention of teaching it to you," Berthold finished.

The edge of Roy's mouth twitched, but he kept his face expressionless beyond that. "Then there's no reason for me to stay. Master, I thank you for your guidance. I believe it's time I move on."

"I would agree," Berthold answered, a tension in the air. "You've been a good apprentice, Roy. Better than my previous."

Roy stiffened, eyes narrowing. "May I return to visit, Master Hawkeye?"

He hummed, turning back to the book in his hands. "I suppose. If you call ahead."

"Thank you. I believe I'll take my leave," Roy offered stiffly.

"Remember what it means to be an alchemist," Berthold reminded icily.

Roy tilted his head in respect before turning out of the study, feeling Berthold's gaze on his back. He passed the kitchen on his way, Riza's eyes meeting his. There were tears on her cheeks, but she quickly looked away, her back to him.

His heart clenched at the sight, his mind casting back to Izumi's back turned to him, stepping out the door and leaving him behind. In a way, he was abandoning her the way his own sister had abandoned him.

"Good day, Miss Hawkeye. And Happy Solstice," he offered. She gave no reply, and after a moment, he left. Stepping off the porch he glanced back with a shuddering breath, "I won't leave you alone forever. I'll come back. And I'll take you with me when I do."

He would have taken her today if she had let him.

Saturday, September 14, 1918

It was after midnight when they finally hurried inside the warmth of General Mustang's new home, seeking shelter from the storm. It was a modest, two story house, clearly on the newer end of construction, still having that new house smell of fresh sheetrock and paint.

Riza's eyes swiftly scanned the space, an empty feel to it as decorations were absent and the only visible piece of furniture was that two seater couch Roy had owned for at least the past decade. He'd always been a minimalist. Houses were for sleeping, bathing, and occasionally eating (when he wasn't taking some random woman on a date).

Riza found herself pausing, staring at the navy couch as Roy's heavier than usual footfalls began to climb the stairs. The last time she'd been on that sofa...

"Captain, I'll show you your room," Roy pressed, drawing her attention. She swiftly followed him up, being guided to the room on the left. A queen sized bed, dresser, and nightstand were the only pieces of furniture, a closet built into the wall.

He left her things on the foot of the bed, a tension between his shoulder blades. His ebony eyes flicked towards her, but didn't loiter, "You're welcome to stay as long as you like. My room's across the hall if you need anything. Sorry, we share a bathroom at the end of the hall. There's also a half bath on the main floor."

"Thank you, Sir," she managed to keep her voice firm, despite the insecurity wrestling in her heart.

He looked around, rocking on his heels slightly. "Do- you need anything else?"

"No, not right now," she supplied, looking down at Hayate, catching the end of one of his yawns.

"Right. Goodnight," he passed her, crossing the hall and stepping into his room, quietly closing his door behind him.

Riza turned back to her own room, edging her door closed before crossing to the bed. She hesitated before sitting down, her body sinking into the mattress. Hayate took that as permission and hopped up beside her, circling a spot twice before settling down.

Riza laid back, staring at the ceiling. She ached from crying, her face stinging, her throat parched. She was cold from the journey here, but as she was already dressed for bed, she could just curl up under the sheets and let sleep take her...

Roy's door opened and his footsteps caused the floorboards to groan softly under his weight as he descended the stairs.

She shouldn't be here. After last night it would be best to keep a healthy distance from him as she emotionally cooled down.

She shouldn't be here. If she stayed, it'd only fuel more rumors about them being together.

She shouldn't be here.

Resolve solidified in her as she suddenly jumped up, crossing back to the door. She pulled it open, descending the stairs swiftly. A light around a corner drew her steps into the kitchen.

Roy had changed out of his uniform into a loose pair of blue and green plaid flannels and a plain white t-shirt, his reading glasses perched on the bridge of his nose. He had a kettle on the stove as he dropped the tea leaves inside, closing the lid. He looked up at her, lips slightly parted as he met her gaze. "Would you like some tea, Captain?"

She looked down at the kettle, briefly wetting her lips, "You have a headache?"

He smirked, shifting on his feet, "Yeah. It's chamomile. I know you prefer lemon, but you're welcome to some."

"Thank you, Sir," she returned, eyes evaluating the kitchen. A couple of bar stools were tucked under the counter, several half unpacked boxes decorating the space. With his date with Oliver, when had he had time to unpack?

"Have a seat?" he nodded towards the bar. She moved over, pulling out a stool and gingerly sitting down, her feet dangling over the floor. He shifted to a cupboard, pulling out two mugs and placing them by the stove. "Honey?"

"Yes, please," she breathed, looking down at her lap, finger gripping the hem of her shirt and rolling it slightly. "General..."

"Perhaps," he interrupted, drawing her gaze, "when we're here- you could call me Roy- again." He hesitated looking back at her, his obsidian eyes catching onto her.

There was a long pause, Riza processing the request. He wasn't backing down though and she inhaled before continuing what she had originally started, avoiding addressing him at all. "It's not entirely appropriate for me to even be here. That's- why I didn't go to you when I realized I didn't have a place to stay."

"Yeah," he murmured, his gaze turning to the floor, his expression difficult to read. He moved to lean back against the counter with the sink, perpendicular to the bar. His hands braced the counter behind him, fingers tight on the lip.

"I went to Rebecca's apartment," she continued, determined to push forward. "Havoc was there. It was clear whatever is going on between them didn't start yesterday." He ducked his head further, inhaling deeply. "I'm not reporting them, but when I told them off- Rebecca accused me of being a hypocrite." That drew his eyes back to her, his expression intense. "She thought we were..."

He didn't stir, his gaze glued to her, his expression unchanging. She swallowed hard, pulling her eyes from his. "A lot of people think we are. Surely you've heard the rumors too. It's unwise to encourage that train of thought. That's why I was hesitant to accept Alphonse's offer yesterday. It's a great honor, yes, but together? You're just becoming a General. It wouldn't do to have an investigation open on whether we're fraternizing or not. In the case that it does, we should avoid all appearances of being anything but professional."

A silence fell between them, the only sound coming from the rising temperature of the kettle, the metal creaking as it expanded with the heat. Bracing herself, she glanced up at him again, his eyes still on her, the same careful expression on his face, his glasses faintly reflecting the lights.

He turned his eyes forward, staring at the wall. "You can leave if you want. I won't make you stay. I could keep Hayate while you're looking for a place. Then you won't have to worry about him."

She didn't respond, the kettle beginning to whistle in the silence. Roy pushed off the counter, turning off the burner and pouring both mugs of tea. He turned back to her, placing a mug in front of her before he moved to a cupboard, pulling out some honey and grabbing a pair of spoons. He rounded the counter with his own mug, pulling the stool next to hers and sitting down.

She finally reached out for her mug, cupping it between both hands. He took a spoon, scooping out some honey and offering it to her. She glanced down at his hand, looking at it for a second before reaching to take it. Their hands brushed, his skin warm, a tingle running up her arm. Not reacting to the sensation, she pulled back, stirring the honey into her tea quickly.

Their silence wasn't comfortable, nor was it awkward. It just was. Riza lifted the tea to her lips, taking a careful sip. "So- Catalina and Havoc..." Roy broached, sipping his own.

"You didn't hear it from me, Sir."

"Of course not. But I still have to decide what to do about it."

"What were you initially planning? After their display of deference at the Gala."

"A stern talking to. At this point, Catalina would likely blame you for anything I have to say on the matter."

"I told her I wouldn't report them. If she doesn't believe me, that's her own fault."

Roy raised a brow, glancing side-long at her. "That's fairly callous of you."

Riza postponed her response with another sip, carefully lowering her cup to the counter. "We're not exactly on good terms right now."

"All the more reason I should say nothing," Roy determined, setting his tea down before taking his glasses off. He ran a hand over his eyes before digging his fingers into his hair. "Is it wrong of me to want them to work out? Catalina is always joking about leaving the Military for a man, and Havoc's always pining. Kill two birds with one stone by having them together."

Ugly resentment reared up in her chest again, her hands twitching on her mug. She almost gave voice to it, her lips quivering on the verge of words. He was the last person she could voice her bitterness to, and her throat constricted. Saying the wrong thing had gotten her into trouble before, and besides, she had no right to these feelings.

That didn't stop her from feeling them.

"I think I should go to bed," she slipped off the stool, picking up the cup and carrying it to the sink.

"You're staying?"

She paused, hand on the tap. "One night," she relented, turning on the faucet and stopping up the drain, squeezing a dollop of soap into the water. "It's after midnight, and I'm too tired to find an inn."

After a moment, the sound of his stool scraping the floor announced his movement, bare footsteps rounding the counter. "Let me," his deep voice rumbled lowly behind her. His hand gently found her elbow, taking a hold of it softly.

His touch and the sound of his voice so close to her ear caused a pleasant shiver to roll across her skin as she twisted to look at him. She met his gaze, steady and calm, her chest constricting and a prickling sensation rising in her cheeks. His scent hit her nose, that almost smoky bite spreading warmth through her veins better than the tea had.

He paused, a tension growing between them, causing the hair on her arms to stand on end. His eyes flicked briefly to her lips, the action catching her breath in her throat. His warm hand seemed to burn against her skin, desire coiling up inside her like a tightly wound spring, ready to burst from her.

"Hawkeye," he whispered.

She blinked, the almost trance breaking with the utterance of her father's name. Ice crept into her soul with the sound, causing her to briskly pull her arm from his hand. "If you insist. Goodnight, Sir."

Before he could respond, she turned, even steps carrying her instinctively from the kitchen. She closed her bedroom door behind her once she climbed the stairs, leaving herself in the dark. Hayate's small snores reached her from the mattress, guiding her to him.

Climbing under the sheets, she curled up into a ball on her side, fingers curling into the back of her hair, wrists over her ears to prevent hearing his movements through the house.

Hearing the door shut upstairs, Roy exhaled heavily, leaning his weight onto his hands on the counter. First Olivier now this? Shit.

What had he done wrong? They'd been so close, Roy certain the sexual tension hadn't just been on his part. Maybe her guard was still up after whatever had happened between her and Catalina. He was fairly certain they must have had an argument at this point. That and the housing just seemed like pieces of Riza's distress right now. Something else was at the root of her breaking down to tears. Was it... the wedding?

Riza was right. She always was. She had a knack for it. They should be avoiding all appearances of them with the threat of Hakuro. But- nine and a half years. She was sleeping under the same roof as him again. They hadn't been this casually close together in so long. Her subtle, lavender and gunpowder scent was far too enticing. Her figure in loose pajamas was too tempting. The warmth of her elbow under his hand had been a guilty pleasure. He wanted more. He needed it. He needed her.

He stood up properly, grabbing the cups and beginning to scrub them in the sudsy water with more ferocity than required. His head ached a little more fiercely as he grimaced, trying to take his frustration and sexual tension out.

So Catalina and Havoc thought they were sneaking around, did they? Olivier and Miles ran to him when caught because they thought he knew how to handle discovery? He scoffed bitterly, "Surprise," he growled to the sink, grabbing the kettle and dunking it into the water too.

How many other people assumed they were together? Grumman wished they were, and was far from blind to Roy's attraction to his granddaughter. Fullmetal liked to tease on occasion, especially that damned incident with the flowers Roy hadn't sent during the false Prince of Aerugo's visit. And Hughes...

Roy froze, the cold of loss settling over him as he recalled the countless times Hughes had pestered him about getting married. It had always been implied that he'd meant to Riza. He was the only person Roy had confided in about his plans to ask for her hand after graduating from the Academy. He hadn't even told Chris about that.

Empty inside, Roy unplugged the sink, listening to the rush of water and slight gurgle of bubbles as he stood still. Numbly he rinsed the dishes, energy suddenly gone as the length of such a busy day began to settle in.

Riza would be gone again tomorrow and everything would go back to normal. The painfully dull march of everyday life would return, and he'd be left with his goals for Amestris.

A tightness bunched up in his chest, rebuking the facts stubbornly. He wanted to rush up stairs, break into her room, and...

And what? Force himself on her? The idea sickened him, his private honor refusing to take advantage of any woman like that, let alone his life time friend.

Leaving the dishes to dry in the rack, he wiped his hands and padded from the kitchen, bare feet crossing the wood floor. He shut off the lights, the darkness leaving him blind. Hissing, he rigidly felt his way to the stairs, clinging to the railing. From pure imagination, he thought he could hear the Truth cackle at his fear, mocking him from the Gateway.

Once on the second floor, he paused between the doors, ears straining for any sound from the left room. Nothing. No movement or murmuring or whining from Hayate. He longed to go in, to check on her, to make sure he hadn't messed up again.

He couldn't.

Exhaling forlornly, he turned to his own door, closing it behind him softly. He pulled off his glasses, discarding them on his nightstand before tugging his shirt off over his head. Tossing it aside, he fell into the king sized bed, mattress bouncing him slightly with a creak.

He stared into the void. He knew he should be able to see shadows, or silhouettes, but ever since Dr. Marcoh had restored most of his sight, low light had become equivalent to blindness. He gritted his teeth, squeezing his eyes shut and trying to push away the haunting image of Riza lying limply in a pool of her own blood, hand pressed to her neck as she bled out.

He wanted to turn on the hall light, but the thought of disturbing her sleep kept him in bed.

One night. He could handle one night of disease if it meant Riza could sleep peacefully.

Friday, March 5, 1909

He tasted like his apartment smelled: of cigarettes and alcohol. She didn't care much for either, but the War had been so rough on both of them, if that was how he coped, she wouldn't stop him. Except- she didn't know if she was one of those coping mechanisms.

She'd wanted this kind of attention from him for years. Now he was giving it, she didn't want to question his motives. His kisses were so desperate, she hoped they were for her, not her body.

Riza lay shirtless on her back, wrists pinned above her head by his hand against the arm of the navy loveseat. Her flowy black skirt was her only covering as she moaned under his deep kisses. He bit her lower lip, drawing a gasp from her throat as pain stung the tissue. He nudged her legs further apart with his knees as he licked her swollen skin soothingly. His hips moved to hers as his erection pressed between her legs, the fabric of her skirt and his pants between them as he began grinding against her.

It was bliss. If he'd just remove their clothes, he'd feel how wet she was for him...

Saturday, September 14, 1918

Black Hayate's bark pulled her abruptly from the vivid dream. Riza gasped, her body damp with an aroused sweat, her hand tucked suggestively between her thighs during her sleep.

She had a lot of nightmares: memories of the War, her father, the Third Laboratory, Pride and Bradley, the Promised Day... All of them were rough as she relived them in her sleep. This dream was the worst of them. Not that it was a nightmare exactly, but it resurfaced so many emotions. Emotions she'd tried to bury and leave for dead. Emotions she'd been wrestling with for the past two days.

She shuddered, puffy eyes welling up with tears as Hayate barked again. She rolled onto her side, body trembling with desire and sorrow as she stifled a sob, tears falling freely. It was just a dream. A memory.

Taking a few deep breaths, she settled back into the present. Focusing on Hayate, she quickly recognized his third bark as an 'I really have to pee' alert. She pushed herself out of bed, fumbling in the unfamiliar space as she found the light on the nightstand. The dim lamp felt like the sun with how it burned her retinas after the dark. She groaned, shielding her eyes as she turned away, moving towards her door. "Heel," she ordered groggily, opening her door.

She jerked to a stop, a shirtless Roy standing outside her door, fist raised to knock. Her eyes widened at the sight of his cut muscles, the faded scar from his cauterized wound danced around his left side. His pants were the same ones he'd worn earlier, but she seemed to actually see them now: a loose set of blue-green plaid flannels, hanging dangerously low on his hips, a distinct v right above his waistband. Riza ripped her eyes up to meet his. He blinked in surprise, Riza noting the slight stubble visible along his jaw.

He looked stunning.

"Sir," she choked out, a heat pooling between her legs. She became very aware the only clothes she wore were her silken, light blue pajamas, the four large buttons up her shirt feeling like flimsy deterrents.

"I heard the barking. Are- you alright?" he asked, eyes widening as he shifted a hand to her cheek, brushing a tear stain from her face with the pad of his thumb.

His touch felt like electricity, the arousal of her dream shooting through her veins as she stepped back, chest tight. "Sir!" she protested. He pulled his hand back, grimacing. Hayate whimpered, shifting from paw to paw at Riza's feet. "Hayate needs to go out, Sir."

He glanced down at the dog, "I'll take him," he offered.

"General," she protested again, but Hayate's obedience and patience had run out. He darted past Roy, stumbling down the unfamiliar stairs. Roy rushed after him, Riza left alone in her doorway, wondering what had just happened. She could hear Roy's thudding feet rushing across the wood floor below. A door opened, then closed, leaving her in silence.

She allowed herself to crumple against the wall, rubbing her cheeks dry in his absence. A throbbing need came from between her legs, Riza grimacing at the thought of Roy's return. She had to calm down. Her built up sexual tension was dangerous in this situation with Roy sleeping just across the hall. Her emotional instability the last two nights was simply unacceptable.

Unthinkingly, a hand lowered to her breast, cupping it over her shirt as she groped herself. She had to stop this, but she was a woman who had very neglected needs. She turned, fleeing to the bathroom at the end of the hall, closing and locking the door behind her as she turned on half of the lights.

She hastily pulled off her top, the fabric abandoned as she leaned her back against the door, staring ahead sightlessly as she shoved a hand down her pants, shuddering as she touched herself. She worked fast, breath heavy as a mental clock ticked seconds by, worried he'd be back before she could get off. Her distracted mind made it harder to release, her fingers moving swiftly in and out and across her wet womanhood to no avail.

She gave a frustrated whine, her free hand moving to her breast, fumbling as she began playing with the exposed nipple. She closed her eyes, tilting her head back. She had to come. She couldn't face him again like this. She'd lose control.

Her body refused- again. It demanded the real thing, tired of her desperate, weak dismissals. She hadn't been able to get off for months now (all because of that little bathtub ritual she'd begun every time she stayed in Central), and this was not the time or place to struggle with her sexual needs. She pulled her hand back, shaking as she shoved off her bottoms and panties, moving to the shower and turning the water on cold.

She gasped as she climbed in, her skin erupting into goosebumps as the frigid water cascaded down her skin. Ducking her head directly into the stream, a pitiful wail escaped her throat, tears returning as she numbed her arousal hopelessly.

There was no release for her. She'd promised to follow Roy through hell, and every step had been just that. Hell to be so close, but never one. Hell to wait with no hope of happiness. Hell to watch everyone else around her find joy and love, when the only man she cared for had so blatantly rejected her.

Hell as she watched an Ishvalan child jerk with a spew of blood, having taken her bullet to the skull.

Riza hardened in an instant, logic kicking in to resist her pain. She had no right to mourn. She had no right to regret. She had no right to love.

She shut the water off, glaring at the faucet as she dripped, the splatters of drops filling the silence. "Captain, I brought him back," Roy's muffled voice came through the door. Her eyes shifted in the direction of his voice. She stared for a long moment, unaware what she was doing.

"Riza?"

Riza? He called her by name? Frowning, she stepped from the shower, hastily drying off, replacing her clothing before she unlocked the door.

Roy had his back to her, having stepped back towards his bedroom. "General." He turned, eyes flicking over her briefly. He was just as breathtaking as before, her briefly claimed discipline straining at the sight. "I think it's best if we stay professional here, as well as at work," she determined, finally responding to his request from earlier.

He paused, jaw tightening, a hard to see light of disappointment in his eyes. "Alright. Excuse me, Captain, I was just trying to make you feel welcomed."

"I know," she whispered.

"Are- you alright? You were crying again."

"I- I can't..." she retreated a step, voice small as she rested a hand on the bathroom door frame.

"Catalina?" She shook her head, looking away. "Captain," he pressed, taking a step towards her.

"Please, Sir. I can't- I can't talk with you about this," she insisted. It felt like her heart was bleeding, her incessant need for him blooming back in her chest, growing back stronger than before. She could feel tears pricking her eyes, a lump forming in her throat.

"Who can you talk to? Catalina? Ross? My aunt?"

"I can't talk to anyone! Please, just let me go back to sleep, I'll be fine in the morning." She was so- tired. Tired of fighting. Tired of the pain. Tired of being pushed uncomfortably in all the worst ways.

Something behind his eyes shifted. He moved to her, his arms wrapping around her in a warm embrace. She stiffened as she lifted her chin, resting it on his shoulder as he pulled her against him. Warmth spread through her body, his skin like a furnace after her cold shower. A knot in her stomach made her quiver as desire pooled between her legs yet again.

"Cold," he breathed before speaking more firmly, "If you can't talk about it, let me at least hold you. Shit, we used to do this all the time. Cry all you want. You don't have to tell me anything you don't want to," he promised.

Her resolve was breaking. The effects of her cold shower had vanished, though her body was beginning to shiver. She lifted her hands to his waist, breath hitching in a strangled gasp at the feel of his hard muscles. He pulled back, arms still around her as he looked at her. "Captain?"

Recognition replaced concern, his eyes widening in sudden comprehension. She'd shown him this side of her once before, but she wondered how many women bore themselves to him so shamelessly. How many times had he seen desire and lust directed at him before? How many times had he humored them, and not her?

She felt weak. The muscles in her arms flexed, her body fighting between pulling away and giving in. He seemed stunned, his arms not leaving her, his jaw tightening.

"I nee..." she couldn't even form the whole word, her throat closing off on the confession. She needed him.

His arms shifted, a hand tenderly grabbing her hip, pulling her against him as the other moved to gently clasp her chin, tilting her head upward a little more. She gulped, her breath ragged. He was so calm.

"Riza," he whispered just before his lips brushed hers.

Time stopped. Her heart stopped. Everything just stopped for that brief, chaste, brushing of lips. Though his faint stubble prickled her cheeks, his lips were warm and soft. She'd forgotten that detail in the years since their last kiss- their first kiss.

He pulled back, dark eyes meeting hers in the shadow of the upstairs hallway, the only lights coming from the bathroom behind her and the lamp in her room. There was no sound, just the rushing of air between their breaths. His bare arms and torso warmed her cold skin like flames, comforting and strong.

He ducked back down, pressing another kiss against her stunned lips, brief and heartfelt. "I'm sorry," he breathed as their mouths separated again. He kissed her again, soft and warm. "I'm sorry for yelling at you." Another kiss. "I'm sorry for pulling rank." Another. "I panicked." Again. "I'd burned you." Again. "After the War, I didn't deserve you." Again. "I didn't deserve this."

And again.

Her breath hitched slightly, a slow shiver rolling up her spine as her grip on his waist tightened. It was like- like each kiss was breathing life back into her soul. Each murmured sentence brought sudden clarity to the darkest night of her life. Each breath and heartbeat and touch.

"I love..." his words lost air as he kissed her more deeply, his arm moving around her waist and pulling her closer, the other leaving her chin and running sensually down her side, grabbing her hip. "Riza, I love you," his voice came more firmly, his face pulling back as he held her gaze, his chest suddenly heaving with deep breaths.

She stared back into his eyes, her mind furiously trying to comprehend his words. "I'm dreaming," she murmured. It was the only logical explanation.

His expression crumpled, brows furrowing and mouth twisting. His arm around her waist desperately pulled her closer. She closed her eyes from the sight, her heart aching to see that pain on his face. "Wake up. Please. It hurts- too much."

His breath brushed her neck, his nose softly nudging her jaw as his lips found her pulse. She turned her face away from him, partially to expose her neck more, partially to pull away. The sensation of his scruff and mouth along her skin made her legs grow weak, her heart speeding up in her chest. A small whine left her throat, desire and protest mixing to create the sound.

His arms shifted, one moving low and sweeping the weight out from her knees. She gasped, hands flying to his broad shoulders to hold on as he cradled her in his arms. She opened her eyes again, finding herself intimately close with his Adam's apple and the stubble dusting his jaw. He pulled her close, bare feet crossing the floorboards as he smuggled her into his room, the faint moonlight through the curtains hardly giving shape to the unknown space.

Her protest died in her throat, her mind still in denial about events as he rounded the bed. He nudged the bedding back before burying her in the sheets and duvet, the fabric cold compared to his body heat. He pulled away, nearly vanishing from her sight in the dark. Desperation clawed at her chest in his absence, tears surfacing yet again before the mattress dipped under his weight on the other side, groaning under his movements.

His arms found her in the blankets, pulling her against his torso protectively. Her pain eased with his return, her body curling naturally towards his, her palms resting against his pectorals. His warm, incendiary scent flooded her, his breath dancing across her exposed ear.

"You're not dreaming," he finally whispered as they settled, his hands on her waist. "We'll talk in the morning, when you wake up in my arms," he promised, dusting another kiss on her forehead.