DISCLAMER: I own nothing other than the fanfiction itself

A/N: Sorry about my hiatus. Life decided to get crazy on me, but I hope to begin posting chapters like normal from this point on. It's long overdue, but, finally, here's:

Chapter Seven: Promises

"What are we doing here?"

Roy drew his fingertip over the brim of his cup, gazing absently into the amber liquid inside. He wasn't really expecting an answer to his question, but the one he received almost made him smirk.

"We're fighting a war."

It was just like Riza to be blunt with her responses, even when the question was rhetorical. She looked over at Roy, watching him trace the edge of his glass. "Don't tell Maes I gave you that."

Roy scoffed. "Please. I'm a grown man. I'll drink if I want to, and he needs to mind his own business." As if in defiance, he drained the contents of his glass before reaching for the bottle they had placed between them. In the safety of his tent, they were shut off from the world, if only for a little while.

"He says you've been acting more hollow than usual." Riza knew she was straying into dangerous ground, but it was an issue that had to be addressed.

"Like I said – he needs to mind his own damned business." Roy snapped, and he instantly felt sorry for his tone. Heaving a sigh, he added. "You said it yourself: we're in a war. Killing people isn't exactly the highlight of my day."

Silence lapsed between them, and Riza dropped her gaze down to the cup between her hands. "General Hakuro congratulated me after my shift today. He told me what a good job I was doing. Said he'd never seen a sniper with my skill." In any other situation, this could have been taken as praise. In Ishbal, Riza saw it as a condemnation of her actions. "I've killed so many people… I've looked in children's faces as I pull the trigger on my gun." She shook her head, trying to keep her voice from breaking. "I don't know how much longer I can do this."

"We don't have a choice." Roy was trying to be sympathetic, but he was feeling the same distress in his own way. When it came to pain, he turned it into fuel for anger, making him a bitter person.

"What if we die here?"

Riza's question caught Roy completely off guard, and he turned his head to look at her, mouth agape.

"It's a war. People die every day. Their bodies are carried off the battlefield by stretchers. I've seen it and so have you. All it takes is one bullet. I know that better than anyone. One bullet can end a person's life. And then what? My father always said that people were just energy moving about the earth. Death is the end of it. There's nothing afterwards; I was raised to believe that. That's what we're doing here – turning people into nothingness. The world doesn't care if one person dies." Riza's fingers tightened around the cup in her hands, her knuckles turning white as her hands began to shake. "I'm nineteen years old, Roy. If I die on that battlefield, the most I'll ever get is my name in a list in some newspaper. I don't even think anyone would bother to claim my body when it was brought back to Central…"

"Don't say that!" Roy's hand shot out, grabbing Riza by her upper arm. His cup clattered to the ground, seeping the dirt with alcohol. Their eyes met when she looked up in surprise, and he pinned her with his obsidian gaze. "I'll be damned if I let you die here. I made a promise to your father; I swore that I'd protect you. Mark my words, Riza: I am not going to let you die here."

Any words of protest died on Riza's tongue when she saw the intensity with which he was looking at her. Roy had always been a man of his word, and she had always believed him. If he said he would keep her safe, she knew he would do just that. "I believe you." She murmured, trying to move her arm out of Roy's tight grasp.

Roy loosened his grip, not having realized how tightly he was holding onto her. "I don't like hearing you say such dark things."

"And how do you think I feel when you shut yourself up in your tent like this? It's clear to everyone that you're brooding, but you never let anyone help you. You don't have to do this alone, Roy." Riza absentmindedly placed the cap on the bottle of alcohol, assuming Roy had already had enough. If this was his mood now, she certainly didn't want to see him drunk. Maes had been right, of course; she'd been stupid to let him indulge in a few glasses.

"I know. Maybe once all of this is over, I'll be willing to accept that. But for now, it's best if I try to live in a state of denial. If I try to face my sins now, I don't think I'd be able to get off this battlefield alive. As long as this war is going on, it's better to assume the government is doing what's right, even if we know better. It's the only way we're going to live." It might be cynical of him, but Roy truly believed that denial was the best approach to war.

"Then promise me you won't die." Riza said sternly, her eyes fixed on Roy's. She wanted his word that he'd live in denial if that was what it took for him to make it out of the war.

Roy's lips quirked up slightly on the right side as he countered "Only if you do the same."

A/N: I know it' short, but the chapters should be back to normal soon.

Rate and review! :)

Up Next:

Chapter Eight: Riot