Monday II

The car ride was silent apart from the engine fighting the early morning wind. The archives were waiting. It made Roy heave a sigh. She shouldn't have to go there, but he knew it was futile to tell her that – she had no choice. Any choice he could give her to drop out, she wouldn't accept.

"You can't," Hughes said, his white coat dusty from the war. "You cannot protect her."

"I will," Roy replied between gritted teeth, never looking away from that balcony. From that tyrant they called their Fuhrer.

"How?" Hughes asked. It lit a fire in Roy's brain, the first thing he saw when hearing the word how being flames. They consumed the crowd around them, weary soldiers vanishing within the flickering blazing that became stronger the tighter Roy clenched his jaw.

A high-pitched cry interrupted his rage.

"No!" the little boy screamed. "Nooo!" he howled. His clothes, hair and entire body – on fire. Roy's heart burned alongside her in his chest, his eyes watering. They nearly popped when more flesh was seared and scorched by a futile attempt to protect him.

The flames licked at her fingers, her wrists, consuming her arms and hair, melting the skin off her bones but Riza pressed on regardless. Reaching for the miserably crying child, she hugged it fast. It didn't stop the noise; neither the screams nor the roaring of the fire. It ate them both alive, all without a single signal of distress ever passing Riza's lips.

She had followed Roy into hell, but she had ventured too far.

Roy jolted awake. His chest heaved with quick pants. His heart hammered in his chest so heftily, he couldn't hear himself breathe for another moment.

A hand gently landed on his biceps. He winced again. Only slowly, he realised that he was in bed; in his bed at his own place. His head moved with an in between of jerking and whipping as he stared at the source of the hand. Her eyes were small with sleep, yet alarmed, brows furrowed with concern.

"Protect…?" Riza softly asked. He stared at her, his heavy breathing gradually abating. He must have talked in his sleep.

He trapped her in a sudden hug, pressing her to him as if wanting to squeeze the worry out of her – and himself. She did not ask again, enduring, waiting. A minute passed. When he finally sighed, she wiggled a hand upwards to enclose his neck. Slim, intact and not at all scorched fingers made his shoulders sink, his body slackening back into the sheets.

She drew soothing patterns on his nape until he drifted back off.

The next time Roy awoke was because of his obnoxious alarm clock. He hardly managed to register his own position, where the bloody noise came from and where his arm was to turn it off, when with a click, it stopped. A click much softer than he would have ever used.

The sheets rustled as Riza retracted her hand. Roy felt a sigh of comfort expand his ribcage, a warm fuzziness stirring his insides when said hand snuck its way under his shirt. She trailed along his spine – making him realise that he was lying with his face flat on the pillow.

"It's only five thirty," Riza informed. Her lips brushed his ear. She placed a kiss just above, then another on his shoulder before getting up. Roy gave another sigh at the loss of her warmth, but turned over anyway. The dreaded Monday had arrived. Still, it was only five thirty, giving him enough time to get ready after she returned with Hayate.

The latter was excitedly waiting by the front door. Roy could hear Riza shuffle with her coat, then the clinking of the leash before the door fell shut behind them. He turned over again. Grasping the pillow to himself, Roy inhaled what was left of Riza's scent. He wondered if the day would ever come when he forgave himself for what he had done to her.

The doorbell raked him out of his thoughts not much later. Just when he had been close to dozing off again.

As much as he disliked getting up – especially on Mondays – he enjoyed Riza prompting him to do so. Her coming back to wake him; gentle hands and mellow words retrieving him into reality. Or that strict look paired with her hands on her hips – something he could hardly get enough of.

The doorbell rang again. Had she not taken the key? Roy grumbled to himself, forcing his way out of the warm bedroom and into the hall. He yawned, not paying attention to the silhouette behind the alabaster glass until it was too late.

"Yo, Roy!" He was greeted by far too enthusiastically for his liking. Not at this hour. Come to think of it, never, actually.

"What do you want, Hughes?" he groused, drowsy. He squinted, concentrating on remaining standing.

"No way! You got yourself a lady? Congrats! Do I know her?" Hughes grinned. Roy frowned. He blinked past Hughes into the foggy morning, then behind him. The boxes in the living room weren't in sight, nor was there a pair of shoes, boots, a coat, anything. The hall wasn't even messy without her there; Roy hardly owned enough to clutter the entrance. Nothing betrayed a woman in the house, not from where they were standing.

"What the hell are you talking about?" Roy asked, swallowing a much-saying 'how'.

"Take my advice and propose already – looks to me as if there's a heck load of domestic fluff going on here." Hughes nodded solemnly.

"Domestic what?"

"You guys are probably pretending to be married without ever telling the other, so why not just pop the question and get that out of the way?"

"I don't know what you're talking about. What did you want?" Roy tried to distract. He was starting to shiver, standing there in his shirt and boxers.

"Oh, your face says it all, my friend."

Roy's frown intensified. "My face says 'leave now or I'll make you'."

"Exactly, but your eyes aren't yet with me, so I'm guessing you're more than eager to get back to her." Hughes wiggled his brows suggestively.

"How do you even—"

"I'm married to the most amazing woman there is, remember? I know that shine in your eyes because I look at it every day in the mirror." He winked.

Roy opened his mouth, an unbelieving groan replacing his reply. He had hardly even had his eyes open; how in the world had Hughes deducted all that? Not to mention he seemed oblivious to Riza being the one who made Roy's eyes 'shine', meaning he had actually known by nothing but that.

Roy huffed, denying the slight heat that crept into his cheeks. "Even if you were right, why are you still here? As you said, I just want to—"

"Yes, I know, and I'm not here to pry, don't worry." Hughes waved off. It was true; he had not once tried to steal a glance past Roy, not even studied the coat hangers for clues. "But you promised me we'd brainstorm together for Gracia's and my anniversary." He grinned. "Well, not the anniversary, but one of many," he raved, retrieving his calendar to point at what looked like a random day to Roy. "You know, now we can also plan a date of yours, since you're finally serious about it," Hughes went on, very much serious himself.

"Can't you come back at a more reasonable time?" Roy grabbed the door to close it. Until Hughes' car caught his eye.

That's right; Hughes had been given a military car during his stationing in the East. In other words, he could— no, he would wait for Roy to get ready, and even if he declined, offer a ride to work to discuss the anniversary.

Wait around for Roy to get ready... Use the time he was in the East to catch up.

He would see Riza return with Hayate.

"Fine," Roy brought out, leaving the door as it was. First the Fuhrer and now Hughes – was there a reason Eastern Headquarters was this magnetising only when Roy enjoyed the chance of a lifetime with Riza's wall needing replacement? He liked spending time with Hughes; it would be great to chat and exchange information – professionally as well as privately – but… right now?

Turning on the heel, Roy hastened to get dressed. He never even bothered with breakfast. He contemplated brushing his teeth to rid himself of his morning breath, ultimately deciding against it – he could not give their secret away, not to Hughes. Not when his observation had not only been spot on, but Roy had somewhat admitted that it was true; that he was seriously in love with the woman.

Silence constituted agreement in Maes' eyes. Not that he would be wrong.

Roy scribbled the words 'work, Hughes' onto a sheet of paper, leaving it on the kitchen table with the keys of his own car. Then he all but shoved Hughes into the other car, excusing his hurry with a vague mumble about paperwork and deadlines.

"So I was thinking of some secluded place – away from the noise of the city, maybe near a forest to hike and listen to the birds sing, a gorgeous sunrise…" Hughes started. He was too content to have a partner in crime for his anniversary planning, letting the bad excuse slide. Roy's focus remained on the side-vision mirror, but he never saw Riza round the corner. Luckily. He only hoped she would not be as disappointed to find him gone as he was about having left.


Roy narrowed his eyes when there was another snicker. As inauspiciously as possible, he moved one hand off the desk. Pretended to scratch his leg. He left his arm there, pressing his fist into his stomach. It was no use. Sure enough, not two seconds later, another growl. The way Havoc and Breda snickered among themselves made Roy growl again, this time in the back of his throat.

He slammed his palm onto the desk. "Will you two quit being a bunch of third graders and get to work?" he barked.

"We're workin'." Havoc shrugged innocently.

"We didn't say a thing," Breda joined. The sing-song in their voices irritated Roy even more.

Only three and a half more hours until lunch. He could do it. At least he thought he could, were it not for his teams' constant amusement about the howling whale that was his stomach. He had tried to tell himself that it had been a necessary sacrifice – that this way, Riza was safe from discomfort. Only she wasn't. It was Monday; the archives were waiting.

A knock interrupted his train of thoughts.

"Colonel?" Riza poked her head in just then. Roy's eyes brightened significantly, something that made Havoc snort in quiet laughter.

"Lieutenant." Roy waved for her to enter but she stayed put.

"I'm only here to remind you of the report you need to file in," she said. She switched the files she was carrying from her right arm to the left. It did not distract him from the half circle she drew with her foot, as if to turn to leave but she didn't. Not just yet.

"Thank you, Lieutenant," he sighed. She saluted with the freed hand, then disappeared again. "Mercy," Roy breathed, getting up, "it's only Monday…" he lamented himself. Choosing a random sheet of paper from his drawer, he slipped it into a simple paper folder. His stomach gave one last cry before he shut the door behind him.

She wasn't there anymore; he hadn't expected her to be.

With no de-tour whatsoever, saving up the time of pretence for whatever hint she had left him, Roy went into the men's on the ground floor. It was the first Monday of the month after all; she had drawn a crescent shape. They had a code hard enough for no one to crack.

Sure enough, the second-last door was shut. Roy dropped his file as if on accident. When bending down to pick it up and seeing no shoes in the cabin, crawled in. It was not the most hygienic way to enter, but the men's on the ground floor was the least used. The offices were all up higher.

Before he had the time to brush off his clothes, Roy smelled it. Bread. Puff pastry. His eyes widened when there was indeed a bag from the bakery waiting on the lavatory cistern – the latter having been neatly wiped down beforehand. Oh, he could kiss that woman.

And he would.

Sitting down, greedily grabbing the rustling bag after having harked into the silence, Roy dug into his late breakfast. His excitement grew, the warmth in his chest throbbing gratefully when he not only discovered a savoury sandwich and a sweet pain au chocolat, but his toothbrush and toothpaste, wrapped in kitchen foil. Kissing was an understatement; he would worship the very ground she walked on. How did she always know what he needed?

Satisfied and refreshed – and not the victim of his Second Lieutenants' laughter anymore – Roy returned to the office.

"There you are." Havoc leant back in his chair. Roy ignored him on his way to his desk. "You just missed her; Hawkeye was here." Roy stopped, turning. Havoc grinned cheekily around his unlit cigarette. So much for not falling victim.

"Volunteering for the night shift, are we?" Roy huffed. He sank into his chair with a sigh. Lunch had been his milestone until now, but he knew the closer it came, the sooner he would have to go to Major General Huron's meeting. They were known to last half a day – at best.

"C'mon, it was just a joke." Havoc gave a fake pout.

"You shouldn't joke about that." Breda shook his head in disappointment, surprising Roy. "Didn't you see the hearts in his eyes? The poor man."

"My apologies," Havoc bowed mockingly. Roy grimly returned his attention back to the paperwork awaiting him. He should have known. Those idiots were back to snickering again, but the worst part was that they were right. Judging by Hughes impeccable perception anyway.

Was he being that obvious?

Roy kept on asking himself that question, finding it harder and harder not to pine after his beloved Lieutenant the more he tried to ban any thoughts of her. At least for the duration of the meeting, he had to keep a straight face.

No more heart eyes, as Breda had teasingly called it.


It didn't prove too difficult in the end – the meeting had taken nearly six hours. Brigadier General McDonnell had yawned several times, at some point resorting to more vocal hints, until finally outright asking Huron to postpone any further discussion until another day. Preferably one on which they would have more information.

A group of terrorists, as they called it. Petty yet organised thieves was what Roy would have dubbed them. They were unusually unpredictable and successful in robbing shops or stealing funds, but they were clumsy. The unintended hints they dropped would betray them at some point.

Roy had been a tad too confident in voicing his opinion. Now they wanted him in on the investigation, seeing as he had 'figured it all out'. He hadn't meant to sound arrogant, but annoyance had gotten the better of him.

It doubled when he opened the door to the office.

His team was gone. The desks – clean. All apart from his, a pair of thick-soled elevator shoes dropping dirt on it.

"Where are they?" Roy asked. He didn't have the energy for some witty greeting. Working hours had not yet ended but still, he was ready to drop into bed without dinner. He could hardly wait, his bed and Riza circling through his head. It was enough to make the harshness in his tone ease slightly.

"Home," Edward boredly answered. "I sent them home," he rubbed in.
A vein on Roy's temple pulsed. "And with what authority?" He kept his voice calm by lowering it.

Ed flicked the pen he had been playing with one final time. He dropped it onto the desk, taking his sweet time as he fumbled for the watch in his pocket. "The authority of the highest-ranking officer in the room," he reminded, letting his State Alchemist's watch dangle.

"It seems you forgot who signs your pay check," Roy fumed, stomping over. "Ungrateful bean." He swiped Ed's feet off his desk, overhearing the protests about Ed's size. If they had all gone home, so would he.

He wondered if Riza had been there. If she had been ordered to leave too – she answered to him alone, but Edward was of a higher rank.

However mean the thought was, Roy hoped she hadn't left. He needed her help with the report of the meeting; to return into the favour of those judging and haughty generals.

Ed growled when Roy marched past him, searching his desk. Unsuccessfully.

"What did you do with my keys?" Roy was starting to lose his patience. Was that brat only ever showing up to vex him?

"Lent them to Fuery." Ed crossed his hands behind his head. "He has the furthest way home; I thought you'd be happy to help out."

Roy let out a furious groan, slamming the drawer shut.

"Brother…" Al insecurely urged from the side. But Edward was nowhere near backing away, not even when Roy planted himself right in front of him, leaning down threateningly.

"You'd do well to get the hell out already," Roy spoke quietly as not to snap and holler, "because right now, I'm the higher-ranking officer and I could easily make you walk all the way to Fuery's place and fetch my bloody keys."

"And since I can't drive your car back, that would delay your return home even more," Ed countered without flinching.

"I'll make you pay my taxi then," Roy retorted. Ed merely tsked, starting for the door. It only angered Roy more, his neck hot with irritation. "And you'd better not play around with orders to my subordinates again if you don't want me cutting your little vacations short, Fullmetal."

"Then you'd better not go around telling people about my imaginary research results." Edward had stopped in front of the door. His Automail rattled ever so slightly where he was balling his fist around the doorknob. Alphonse looked from one to the other with uncertainty. "Because now the Fuhrer himself is asking me to present them, thanks to you and your stupid lie at the evaluation," he said between gritted teeth.

"Isn't that the point of your travels?" Roy asked, unimpressed.

"It's not like there's some convenient result waiting around the corner every week." Ed spun around. "We're having a tough time even just finding clues, so you better stop patronising us as if you know what it's like!"

"Go home, Fullmetal," Roy only said. That kid wouldn't last half a day in his shoes, Roy thought to himself. Those more-than-patronising Generals not ten minutes earlier were living proof of that. Still, he kept it to himself to prevent any more provocation.

"Don't tell me what to do!" Edward slammed the door shut with a bang behind him and Alphonse. Roy briefly shut his eyes. So much for no provocation.

Why again had he entertained the thought of hypothetically having children?

Because of his lovely Lieutenant, that was why. He sank into his chair with a defeated sigh. He lamented himself for her absence, but at the same time, he knew she might have well still been worked like a horse in the archives, more deserving of pity than him.

Picking up the discarded pen, Roy scooted up to his desk. He noted down the most important points and approximate timestamps the meeting for the report. On his way out of Headquarters – finding it mostly deserted – he passed by the archives. There was no shouting, but the lights were still on. When he didn't see Riza on first glance while walking past, he guiltily pressed on. Getting caught up in the archive disaster was the last thing he needed after having been forced into investigating trivial robberies.

His steps stuttered for an instant when he spotted his car. Next was his heart, skipping a beat. Riza was sitting behind the wheel, waiting. She looked exhausted.

Roy heaved a glad sigh once the engine started, relaxing into his seat. "I thought Fuery had illegally been given the car," he said, unable to ban the leftover indignation from his voice.

"He was, but he didn't dare drive it," Riza retold. "I drove him home and came back. Were you still writing the report?" she asked. He knew well to read the edge in her tone – that report was important. Staying in the higher-ups' favour was directly tied to his goal of rising in the ranks.

"I took notes."

"We have a typewriter at home."

"It can wait until tomorrow," Roy argued tiredly. She drummed with her fingers on the steering wheel. "I left the notes in the office anyway," he added. It was her turn to heave a sigh.

She turned around the car the moment he had gotten out at his place. So he prepared dinner, then walked the dog. When she still didn't return a long while after that, Roy ate and got ready for bed.

He forced himself to stay awake. Eventually, he lost the battle. Clinking in the bathroom roused him from his dozing, then the flushing of the toilet. She must have skipped dinner; sacrificed it and another three hours of a good night's rest for writing that stupid report all by herself.

Roy wound his arms around her once she had arrived under the sheets, pressing a kiss to the crown of her head. Hughes' anniversary re-entered his train of thoughts. A gorgeous sunrise, a secluded place, nature, a walk like they had taken by the lake.

Falling asleep, Roy couldn't help but wish for all of it. A gorgeous sunrise, a secluded place by the forest… He knew he had yet to show his gratitude for breakfast, and now the report. Images circled through his head, manifesting in his dreams.

Someday soon, he wordlessly promised her.