A/N:Sorry it's taken a while to get the chapter out. End of the year madness! In any case, I had so much fun writing this chapter and I hope you like it! I'd love to hear your thoughts since this is an AU. I have so much planned for this story I'm so excited.

Eternal love for my beta, Liv. If it wasn't for her I think I'd cry.

Disclaimer: FMA is not mine

:::::::::::::::::::::::::

Chapter 3

Riza lowered the gun marginally, keeping a sharp eye on the stranger. Just because he wasn't advancing and had knocked out the man who had come after her didn't mean he was trustworthy. The fact that she couldn't see his face - or, by extension, his intentions - didn't earn him any points in his favor. Her walls stayed up as she took a step backward.

"I don't recall asking to be saved." Her blood seemed to rush in her ears; she didn't feel particularly threatened, and she was confident with the gun in her hand, but two men in a row in a dark alley was about as bad as Riza's luck got and it made her nervous.

The stranger stared at her for a moment before chuckling with a tinge of incredulity and maybe even a hint of nervousness. Her ears went hot at the tips because she didn't see what was so funny, and if there was one thing that she hated, it was being the butt of anyone's joke.

"What are you laughing at?" she asked, half curious, half outraged, still pointing the gun in his direction.

"I wasn't expecting you to say that," he told her honestly as he shoved his weapon into the waistband of his pants at the small of his back. She could have sworn he was still staring at her. It really bothered her that she couldn't see his face; she could see the general outline, but his features were a mystery. Finally deciding that this idiot was not going to attack her, she pulled the slit of her skirt aside and re-holstered the gun.

He seemed to notice the movement, because his voice became slightly more relaxed. "So you aren't going to shoot me."

"No." She crossed her arms over her chest. It struck her in the back of her mind that maybe it wasn't the best idea to have this conversation only feet from the unconscious man who had just tried to assault her, but she was at ease. "It would be more trouble than you're worth. That is, if you decide to keep your hands to yourself."

His shock silenced him for a moment. "I saved your life; at the very least, I saved your dignity. Most people would be a little more grateful."

She raised her eyebrow. "If anything, you saved his life." She pointed at the unconscious man. "I had everything completely under control." Her annoyance was flaring; who did he think he was? Even worse, he clotted her into a group of, presumably, "most" people and Riza was the farthest thing from normal, even by the standards back in the compound.

Most people weren't trained snipers who spent hours looking down the scope of a rifle; most people didn't smell like gunpowder and unflinchingly end lives. Most people went to parties every weekend before they settled down, got married and had children. Most people had menial jobs - office work, waitressing, running errands; their biggest problems were what was to be cooked for dinner - not whose head their next bullet would go through.

Riza wasn't from that world; even before Commander Grumman had taken her under his wing and brought her into the world of the Resistance, she'd been much different from other girls in school. She knew she didn't fit there - that she didn't fit anywhere, really - and it was an insult to most people to call her one. The more she thought about it, the more irritated she became.

After another few moments of silence, he took a hesitant step toward her. "You aren't from around here, are you?"

"What does that have to do with anything?"

He seemed caught off guard by her bluntness. "Most of the people in this area know who I am," he explained awkwardly as he scratched the back of his neck with a gloved hand.

"Well, pardon me if I've wounded your ego." She was anxious and her sarcasm came out scathing.

"On the contrary," he responded almost instantly. "It's refreshing, actually." The unconscious man began to stir, groaning, and Riza suddenly felt the gaze of the lucid stranger on her. "We should probably get out of here."

She tried to ignore the heat in her face and glared at him, though if he could see the expression was beyond her. "We are not going anywhere," she said firmly. "I am going back inside to find my friends." She reached for the doorknob but the stranger placed his hand against the door, holding it shut; in less than a second, she whipped out the gun and pressed to his chest. "You really don't want to mess with me, sir."

"Whoa, hey, those things aren't toys," he said, immediately throwing his hands up in the air, even as his posture remained otherwise relaxed. He was so close that she could feel the heat of his body through the chilly air, smell his warmth as if he was pressed to her nose, and feel his heart racing where her weapon was pressed to it.

"You are a stranger to me," she went on, though his words implied that she didn't know how to use a gun. That was laughable. "I acknowledge the fact that you came here to play hero, but your services were unneeded. Step away from the door, please."

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean - I wasn't trying to upset you," he promised, fumbling for the right words. "Let me make it up to you - I'll buy you a drink."

In shock, she almost dropped the gun. "Excuse you?"

"Let me buy you a drink," he repeated, with a little more confidence.

She shook her head. "No thank you; I don't need your charities." Her free hand clenched around the doorknob and she yanked on it violently, even though he wasn't really trying to stop her.

"It's not charity," he insisted with a bit of a chuckle in his voice. "If you won't let me save you, at least let me offer you my gratitude in saving me."

She turned around to deny him again and was caught off guard suddenly by being able to see his face. With the door opened now, his expression was bare to her, dark hair brushing across his forehead across his forehead. She blinked in surprise at the twinkle in his obsidian eyes and took a step toward the interior of the building because she hadn't expected someone so annoying to be so handsome, which frustrated her further.

"I'll take that as full permission," he said with a quick grin. She wordlessly moved aside so that he could enter and felt her face heating up when he shook his head and motioned for her to go first. She shivered as he closed the door behind him and followed her to the counter, to the same spot where she'd stood earlier. This was ridiculous and she was more annoyed than ever.

"I don't even know your name," she said irritably as he took a seat on the stool beside her. It would be so easy just to leave him and go back to her booth and her friends, but she was afraid the stranger would follow her, and she didn't know how to explain that. Telling them that she'd been cornered in an alley alone by a man with less than honorable intentions - despite her having it under control - would probably put a damper on things, which was the last thing she wanted.

He smiled again. She pressed the force of her glare even further at him. "Call me Roy."

Her glare intensified. "I don't believe we are on a first name basis. Your last name, sir?"

The look he shot her was exasperated this time. "Are you going to pull the gun on me again?"

Maybe he hadn't meant it that way, but she took it as a compliment. "Your name?"

"I'd rather keep that to myself for now, if you don't mind," he told her, his eyebrow quirking deviously at her stubbornness.

The bartender approached. "What can I get for you?"

"I'll have a scotch," Roy said, "and for the lady. . ."

Riza held her tongue, hoping to get across just how badly she did not want to be here.

He cleared his throat. "Er, make it two, please."

An uncomfortable silence settled between them despite the crooning of the music in the background while the bartender fixed their drinks. She looked at the glass of scotch with zero interest as it was placed in front of her, while Roy tossed back a swig almost instantaneously.

"Your name?" he said, almost shyly, glancing at her from the corner of his eye.

"Riza," she said at length, deciding that revealing her true name couldn't do much harm. "Tell me something, Roy."

He smiled a bit at her. There was something about the way his sloped eyes, the weight of the eyelids, the tangle of coal colored bangs in his eyelashes. "You'll have to specific, but I'd be happy to oblige."

"You said I saved you out there. I don't understand." She took a casual sip of her drink, savoring the taste and trying not to grimace at the burn as it went down. Music floated around them and she could feel arms and shoulders brushing her back as tangled masses of bodies teemed behind her, but her attention was on the strange, forthcoming man beside her.

"Ah," he murmured and then took another drink, dragging it out longer than the first before setting the half-full glass back down on the bar. "I was on a horrendous date. Dumb as a box of rocks."

"That's a charming way to describe a lady."

"Isn't it?" Catching her narrowed eyes - but apparently not her sarcasm - he added, "Don't worry; I got her a cab before I came to your rescue."

"Alright then," she said slowly. "So what do you want from me?"

That was the million dollar question. She wasn't used to being entertained for the sake of entertainment. Throughout her entire life, Riza had been nothing more than a tool. To her father, she was to keep his research hidden; to Havoc, she had been for physical and, at times, emotional gratification; to the entire Resistance, she was nothing more than their most valuable sharpshooter. With the exception of her friends, she was just a shadow of a human being, an object, worth very little, easily replaced when broken.

Besides all of that, she'd pointed a loaded gun at his chest. What kind of man sat down and had a drink with a woman who had threatened his life?

Roy raised an eyebrow, looking offended. "What makes you think I want something from you? Can't a man enjoy the company of an attractive woman without wanting something more from her?"

Infuriatingly, she felt her face flush; she didn't even register the compliment. "I didn't mean that."

"Then what did you mean?"

"I mean - why are you talking to me?" She glared down into her drink, feeling so damn foolish for wasting her time pressing these questions on a stranger. Her thumbs ran up and down the cold glass, aware that he was watching the twitch of her hands. This was stupid, she shouldn't have indulged him; she should have lost him in the crowd. And even if she hadn't done that, she definitely should not have even asked that question.

A part of her was fiercely curious, though. Curious enough to keep her planted obstinately to her seat, waiting for him to answer.

"Because you are far more interesting than a box of rocks," he supplied and his honesty took her by surprise. "There are few people in this city with enough gall to point a gun at me, and even fewer who put me in my place without batting an eye. In my line of work, I rarely meet women as obstinate as you and I'm inclined to tell you that out of respect." He paused for a moment and she glanced at him from the corner of her eye, suddenly rendered immobile by his words. "Despite my interference back there in the alley, you handled everything with perfect grace. If I didn't say I'm impressed, I'd be lying."

Her thumbs slipped along the glass again as she straightened her shoulders slightly. He sounded sincere, and couldn't find any hint in his posture or his expression that said otherwise. Her irritation ebbed away.

"Thank you," she told him in a subdued voice. She felt strange; no one had quite praised her for being who she was before. It wasn't that people tried to change her, but that they pulled away or ignored the intracacies of her personality. And here this man she'd known for not even ten minutes, a complete stranger, was. . . complimenting her on her stubbornness and audacity?

She lifted her drink to her lips and took another sip, unsure how to read Roy and what to think of the things he said to her.

He tossed back the last of his beverage and offered a crooked smile, one corner of his mouth endearingly favoring the right side. "So if you aren't from around here, where are you from?"

"Central," she replied automatically, looking up at him. It was the first answer anyone from the compound went to; Central was vastly populated and knowing everyone in the city was impossible, which made people harder to trace. Not that she was expecting trouble from Roy.

He seemed to expect this. "This your first time out to East City?"

"Yes." She kept her answer short and hoped he wouldn't pry; she hadn't exactly prepared a story with her friends to put up a front in case someone started poking around. Perhaps Roy was barely an acquaintance, but she could feel that his attention was on her, only her, and while she didn't normally like being in the spotlight, now she found herself wanting to answer his questions. The absolute focus in his eyes was new and strangely welcome.

"How do you like it?" he asked with sarcasm dripping from his words. He leaned toward her, resting his elbow on the counter top.

The memories of bodies crumpling after the thunder of her trigger raced through her mind and she shoved them away.

"I don't," she answered honestly.

He grinned again, but this time it was a little twisted. "Me either."

"You don't like your job?"

"It's complicated."

She nodded; that was something she could understand that all too well. "I see."

"Do you?" His eyes searching her expression. It was a wasted effort on his part; Riza was an expert at controlling and masking her feelings. He would find nothing on her face but the mild interest that kept her rooted to her chair, even though inwardly she was taken aback. How was she supposed to answer that?

"I. . .don't like my job either," she confessed, cringing internally. She was walking a thin line with so many truths.

His expression became knowing. "And it's complicated."

She nodded and found herself staring at him, and she saw the understanding on his face. He was looking at her with empathy even though he couldn't know what her job entailed; he couldn't know anything about her. Her heart leaped in her chest. What was she doing?

This was wrong; she had to get out of here. Talking to Roy had been a bad move on her part. He was treating her differently than anyone else ever had and that was creating an inkling of warmth inside her that she couldn't afford to nurse. Time to squash this, forget him.

"Thank you for the drink," she said, sliding from her chair, suddenly anxious. "My friends will be wondering where I am."

He stared for a moment. "I understand." Though he didn't look pleased about it.

She tucked a piece of hair behind her ear and extended her hand to him, forcing herself to look at his nose because his eyes held too much - of what, she didn't want to know - for her to handle. "It was nice meeting you, Roy."

It was a mistake to shake his hand; the moment his encased hers and shook it gently, his warmth melted into her skin and a shiver ran down her back. Even after she pulled away, she could feel the ghost of his heat wrapped around her hand and she clenched it into a fist, trying her best to ignore the swell of heat to her face.

"The pleasure was mine, Riza," he murmured, his eyes on her face. She noticed that he had his hand in a fist as well and she swallowed before nodding her head once and turning on her heel, quickly pushing away from him and through the mess of bodies to her table.

She'd been an idiot, but at least she'd extracted herself from the situation. Rebecca noticed her approach first and the relief was visible on her face. Riza placed her hands on the table and forced a smile as best as she could as the rest of her friends looked up at her.

"What took you so long?" Rebecca asked instantly. "We were worried something had happened to you."

Riza sat down next to her, ignoring the urge to look back at the bar on the other side of the room to see if Roy was still there, if she could see him at all, if he had watched her go. "I just got lost in thought."

Havoc's eyebrows furrowed at her from across the table; Riza Hawkeye rarely got lost in anything. The rest of the table seemed to buy her excuse, though, and conversation carried on for another half an hour. Through that entire time, she had to resist glancing back and force Roy from her thoughts. The way his hand had felt for those three seconds and the genuine curiosity he'd worn on his face.

Riza, you talked to that man for fifteen minutes tops. You are being positively ridiculous, she told herself harshly, nodding and faking a chuckle at a joke that Havoc had made.

I know I am but I wasn't imagining anything, she argued back. Somehow telling herself this seemed to make it all the more concrete and that bothered her. She needed to forget quickly, so she heartily downed a couple more drinks and staggered out of the dance hall, her arm entwined with Rebecca's.

"That was the most fun I've ever had," Rebecca announced in a bright voice as she, Riza, and Fuery walked arm in arm behind Havoc and Armstrong. Olivier looked like she had loosened up considerably since they arrived and instead of Havoc clinging to her, she at least now had her arm wrapped tolerably around his. Riza couldn't help but smile; the euphoric bounce in Havoc's step was hard to miss

"It came close!" Fuery agreed happily.

Riza nodded and clutched Rebecca closer, the alcohol in her system making her brain foggy, her high-heeled boots tapping harder against the concrete than they might have in her sober state. "It was nice to get away from the compound."

Rebecca sighed and awkwardly put her head on Riza shoulders as the three of them walked on. "We should do it more often."

When they reached the car, Armstrong was situated behind the wheel, being the least inebriated of the group. She looked tired, but Riza saw the softened edges of her lips as well. Her hands steady on the wheel for the drive back to the compound, the car was quiet save for the rumble of the engine, and Rebecca rested her head on Riza.

It had been a good night, all things considered, though even with the cloudy buzz in her head, Riza could still feel the echo of warmth on her hand, the heat in her face as Roy had looked at her. With her eyes closed, head on Becca's, she allowed herself to smile a bit. She supposed it would be okay to remember that much of him since she'd never see him again. And he had flattered her. There was nothing wrong with remembering flattery, even if she felt she didn't particularly deserve it.

Back at the compound, Havoc hugged Riza goodnight and walked Armstrong back to her room. Fuery smiled and slipped away while the two woman walked to their own room, the alcohol making their steps uneven. Rebecca collapsed on her bed and sighed deeply as Riza kicked out of her boots and let her hair out of the clip.

"Jean looks really happy with her, doesn't he?" Rebecca threw her arms over her face, smearing her makeup.

"He likes her a lot," Riza replied bluntly. Hiding Havoc's feelings from her was only going to hurt her more.

"Well, damn."

Riza undressed and slipped into her pajamas, part of her feeling anxious to go to bed, a part of her so tired she thought she was going to pass out. "I'm sorry, Becca."

With a wave of the hand, Rebecca sat up and shrugged. "As long as he's happy, I guess."

Both of them finished their bedtime rituals and Rebecca was snoring before her head even hit the pillow. Sighing as she turned out the light, Riza made her way to her bed through the dark and crawled into the sheets, burying her face against the pillow. She was thankful that the alcohol was fogging her thoughts and drifted into a dreamless sleep.