A/N: Everyone always thinks that Riza never has a weak moment when it comes to herself, that she never shows her emotions, but I think that just makes her a robot, not the kick-butt lady we've come to love. It's time to show her human side.

I do not own FMA.

Strength

He watched as she shifted in her seat on the wooden bench, his forehead furrowing quizzically. As a sniper, Riza was a master of sitting perfectly still, usually for hours on end; why was she fidgeting like that? Roy supposed the bench could be cold, but that shouldn't matter; fidgeting was simply something that Riza Hawkeye was far too in control of herself to do.

It was something to ask her about later, he decided, going back to watching their surroundings. From where he stood, fifty metres away, he was supposed to be keeping an eye out for any suspicious activity, not eyeing up his Lieutenant. It was extremely crucial to the next stage of their plan that this information exchange go well.

Dark eyes fastened onto a man in a long, tan overcoat, following the figure just long enough to confirm the stranger's identity: definitely the man they were waiting for.

It was a classic information drop. The man joined her, setting his briefcase on the ground between them. Riza pretended to be immersed in her book and not notice. A span of ten minutes in which he browsed the newspaper. He asked her for the time; she gave it to him. He thanked her, got up, and left. A few minutes later, Riza did the same, bringing the briefcase with her.

Roy met her at the park exit. "Nice work." He slid a casual arm around her shoulders as she passed him the briefcase, the pair of them looking for all the world like an ordinary civilian couple out for a walk. "Did he say anything besides the lines he was supposed to?"

"No, sir."

His forehead furrowed again. Roy didn't expect Riza to be brimming with idle chatter, but a one-word answer and his honourific . . . . He stopped to one side of the sidewalk, out of the way of other pedestrians. "What's wrong?"

Riza looked away, around the street. Normally, she could have passed that off as her doing her job; not this time. "Nothing. You're imagining things, Colonel."

"No, I'm not," he said tersely. Arms folded, he gave her the patient look that was so often reserved for when Edward was being uncooperative. "Come on; out with it."

Her gaze returned to him, took in his expression. After a long moment, in which she visibly weighed her options, she looked away again. ". . . My stomach hurts."

"Your —" He stopped, a cautious thought — not an entirely pleasant one — occurring. "Your stomach, or . . . lower down?"

"Lower down." She took a step back out into the foot traffic. "Sir, we really should keep moving." Not making sure he was following, she moved off, and he was forced to do the same, or lose her in the bustle of the five o'clock rush. He wove through perhaps a dozen people before falling into step beside her.

"Are you all right?" he asked, voice low out of respect for her privacy. This wasn't the sort of thing one talked loudly about in public. "It must be pretty bad for you to fidget like you were."

That drew a dry, humourless smile. "It's nothing new, sir. It's been happening every month since I was fourteen. It will pass."

Roy tried not to do the math in his head. "If you say so." They crossed a street, moving to the car they'd left parked at the curb. As a matter of gentlemanly principle, Roy opened Riza's door for her, waiting for her to settle into the leather seat before closing it again. He crossed to his side, got in, and set the briefcase between them.

No sooner did he let go of the handle than Riza took hold of it. She lifted the case onto her lap, folded her hands on top of it; Roy simply quirked an eyebrow. ". . . I feel better if I'm holding onto something," she said quietly, in answer to his unspoken question. "I don't know why. I just do."

"I'm not judging," he replied. He started the car, put it in gear, and pulled away from the curb.

The drive through the city was near-silent and uneventful. Riza obviously didn't feel much like talking, and Roy wasn't going to push her. The sun had set by the time they wound their way to the safehouse; Riza waited in the car as a lookout while Roy went inside to drop the briefcase and its contents with Falman.

When he returned, he left the car turned off. "So. Feeling any better?"

Riza sighed so quietly, he almost didn't hear. "When I'm not thinking about it, yes. But every time you ask about it, I think about it. Please, just let it go."

"Hey, I'm allowed to worry about you every once in a while," Roy shot back. "Stop keeping everything all bottled up. If there's something I can do to help, tell me. Anything at all."

For a long moment, she stayed silent, her eyes on the floorboards. Even between the two of them, with their level of communication so astronomically high, this was an awkward subject for her. Personally, Roy didn't care — he had grown up around his aunt and her girls, and had been subjected to too many rants and complaints about their cycles to really mind anymore — but it was rare that Riza be this visibly affected by it.

At long last, she reached for her pocket. "Do you still have that bottle of water you got earlier?"

"Right here." Reaching into the back, he grabbed the half-full container and passed it to her. Riza produced a small, opaque white bottle, and opened it to shake two small white pills into her palm. "Painkillers?"

She nodded. "If I want to get through this, I have to take two every four hours." One by one, she put the little tablets in her mouth, and washed them down with a drink from the water bottle.

Roy watched. "Did you take any before now?"

"Two before I left home this afternoon," Riza answered. She looked up and out the front windshield of the car. "That was five hours ago. Sir, we should move along; we don't want to draw attention by having the car just sitting here."

Reluctantly, he settled himself properly behind the wheel, started the car, and pulled away. Out of the corner of his eye, he noted Riza toying with the bottle cap, twisting off and on and back again. Fidgeting. "The pain gets that bad in the hour between the medication wearing off and you taking another dose?"

"It can." She smiled again, still with no real strength behind it. "Believe me, Rebecca could tell you stories."

"Really? Like what?"

Those whisky-brown eyes rolled skyward in a silent plea for patience. "Halfway through our first year at the Academy, there was one month where the pain was bad, and since I had classes from eight in the morning until six at night, I didn't have an opportunity to take painkillers." She paused, and Roy glanced over in time to catch the slightest bit of red in her cheek before she looked away. "Rebecca had to half-carry me back to the dorms."

Roy bit his tongue to keep from laughing. "What about in Ishval? I know for a fact that you didn't have a bottle of pills in your pocket. Where would you even get them?"

"They were in the very bottom of my kit," Riza countered. "There was a company medic that kept me supplied; he passed it off as a 'prescription for an underlying condition' that was 'non-detrimental to military service.'"

"Clever."

"We thought so."

They continued to ride in silence for a few moments. Riza's fingers still toyed with the bottle cap, and Roy turned a certain thought over in his mind. Their last part in today's little operation had been to deliver the intel to Falman; that done, their time was their own. To have an alibi, the plan had been for the two of them to visit East City's annual Solstice Light Garden: the largest park in the area, decorated with thousands of tiny coloured lights, that was a favourite haunt for city-dwellers this time of year.

The decision had to be made now. Three streets ahead, if he turned right, it would take them to Victory Park and the Light Garden. But if he turned left, it would take them to Riza's apartment.

"Hey, listen . . . ." Movement in his peripheral indicated that she turned to look at him. "If you're not feeling the greatest, do you want me to just take you home? I don't mind." He glanced her way, flashing a smile. "The Light Garden will still be there some other night."

She didn't return the smile. "We need to have an alibi, sir. In case something goes wrong."

"We will. We can say you were under the weather, and that you called me to help you out. Like you needed something picked up from the store. No one will think anything of it; everyone here knows us too well."

Two streets to go. Riza looked away out the front window, visibly wrestling with her answer. Roy stayed quiet, letting her work it out herself. One street . . . .

"If you don't mind . . . then yes. I think I'd prefer to go home." He braked just in time to make the turn; the car swung around the corner to the left.

"Home it is," he murmured. Unwilling to let silence permeate the vehicle, he reached out a hand. "You know, if you want something to hold — if it makes you feel better — you can use this."

Riza looked at his hand for a moment, then slowly set the water bottle aside. Her fingers laced themselves through his, their hands settling to the leather of the seat in between them. But she didn't smile. Looking out the window again, her lips compressed with that irritated look she got whenever she caught him asleep on his paperwork.

"This is ridiculous," she muttered, mostly to herself. "I should be stronger than this."

Roy was surprised by this; it was rare that Riza voiced annoyance at herself. That was usually a private war she waged alone. "You have to admit," he said diplomatically, "that it's not like this is something where you control what happens."

"I have at least some control," she pointed out. "I could have taken the painkillers sooner, I could have stuck with the plan to go to the Light Garden, instead of being a sissy about —"

His hand wriggled free of hers, lifting to deliver a soft tap to the back of her head. "Enough," he said firmly. Her head whipped around to stare at him. "Riza, you push yourself all the time; take a chance like this to relax once in a while. If anything, you deserve it." Forced to stop the car for a red light, he looked over at her. "This is not your fault. Am I clear, Lieutenant?"

She stared at him, with a look that could only be described as 'perplexed.' "I . . . ." She stopped as his eyebrows lowered in warning. ". . . Yes, sir. Understood."

The light changed, and the car got underway once again. Roy returned his hand to hers, his thumb tracing gentle circles on the backs of her fingers. "To tell the truth, if the positions were reversed, I don't think I could stand pain like that every month," he said, breaking into a small grin. "You don't have to be strong enough to walk around like nothing's wrong all the time; it takes strength to get through it every month for years on end."

At last, she smiled wanly. "I'd like to be that strong."

Roy's smile widened. "Wouldn't we all. But you're strong enough for any purpose you're needed for." Pulling over to the curb outside her building, he parked and shut off the engine. Without hesitating, he leaned across the seat toward her; his hand turned her face toward him just in time to meet his kiss.

When he pulled away, he had the pleasure of seeing Riza's eyes wide in surprise; still staring at him, she slowly licked her lips and swallowed hard. Roy smiled. "Besides. I rather you be human instead of strong."

At last, the smile she gave was genuine. "I'll do my best."