Another night brings Riza to another bar, where she meets another man for the second time this week. Tonight, his name is Julian Dubois. He greets Riza with twinkling gray eyes and a compliment about her dress. He is a professor at the University of Amestris who was raised with two sisters and a younger brother in Giribaz, which is next to Riza's hometown Cameron.

Riza found him charming when Rebecca introduced them over lunch the previous weekend, and their similar childhoods made her think they would have plenty to talk about tonight. But it hasn't been fifteen minutes into their conversation when fatigue from the day's work begins to catch up with Riza and a dull ache throbs forcefully across her forehead. Soon, the pain is enough to bring tears to Riza's eyes. She swallows back a groan as she excuses herself and apologizes to Julian, and all the way home, she takes several sharp breaths to ease the discomfort.

Another night ends with Riza retreating underneath her sheets, alone and anxious.

It has been several weeks since she was separated from Colonel Mustang so she could work under the watchful eye of Führer Bradley. The transition was difficult, the continuity of the Colonel's private plans initially uncertain, but there was nothing that either of them worried about for too long. What Riza has struggled with since is far more personal. She has been far more distressed about the Colonel than she has been for herself, about whether or not he is safe without her, whether or not he is looking after himself. She constantly looks over her shoulder at work, hoping she might see him and be certain that he is doing fine, and she thinks of him more often than she could ever admit. Riza knows that her preoccupation borders on madness.

Rebecca had suggested that Riza take her mind off things by meeting new people. It made sense to spend time with people outside of work, Riza had thought at first. It was something she was never able to do when she was working with her Colonel, not to mention the fact that his men had all been transferred and Lieutenant Havoc is still recovering from his injuries, leaving them with very few opportunities to keep in touch. Part of her also gave thought to the fact that going on dates with different men might take Führer Bradley's attention away from herself and the Colonel, allowing them to safely continue working together in secret.

The problem is that, without fail, each of her dates has ended the same way. Riza has come home from every single one of them with a throbbing headache, the sort that comes from anxiety of which she has much. The idea has never worked, and Riza has never been able to stop worrying about her Colonel. Worst of all, she easily forgets each of these men at the end of each night, but his is the face that she thinks of every single time.

It happens again tonight.

In her bed, Riza slowly traces a path down her body. She presses her palm to her upper thigh before slipping her fingers between her legs. A shaky breath escapes her. Already she sees him there with her, imagines the pressure of his weight on her, the heat of his skin against hers, and Riza is quick to forget titles and propriety as she sighs, "Roy."

Just moaning his name in her own voice, in a way that she never could around anyone else, is enough to make Riza's heart pound. It's almost enough to distract her from the pounding in her head, but the cure has yet to come. She starts slowly, up and down, a rough circle drawn twice or thrice over. When she slides her free hand under her shirt to stroke her breast, she pictures Roy running his hands over her hungrily, ripping off her white button-down so she is only in her underwear and all his to take.

Roy's name keeps escaping her mouth in between moans and gasps of labored breath. Her legs spread for him without her thinking about it. Her fingers become his and enter her in a blissful rhythm, matching the motion of her hips. She imagines his lips now, the way he kisses her neck, her shoulders, her breasts without ever pulling his hand away from between her thighs. He goes faster, faster, until he climbs on top of her and thrusts his hips to enter her, and Riza is set ablaze.

"Oh, Roy," she whimpers for nobody to hear, "Roy!"

Riza can hear his voice in her head, grunting and groaning and gasping her name as he pushes closer, closer into her as if it isn't enough that every inch of him is pressed to her and he is throbbing inside her. She's close now, so close that she can feel it building from her curled toes up to her arched back, and she bites her tongue hard as it comes, it comes, Roy—

A wave crashes over Riza as it ends with her sheets drenched in sweat, her legs numb and shaking from pleasure, her body limp with ecstasy. She is motionless except for her chest heaving as the feeling settles and her breathing gradually slows to a normal rate. When she opens her eyes, she finds her fantasy faded and herself alone in her room. Her heart sinks as she reluctantly accepts reality and a dull sense of guilt over her manner of escape sinks into her. Her body is still burning in places she swears Roy touched her.

Riza lies awake for a long time before she begins to drift off to sleep. By then, her high has faded into languid comfort, and her hunger, at first all-consuming, turns into nonchalance. One good thing that has come out of it is that her headache has dissipated, so now, she can lock away her idea of Roy—of Colonel Mustang in the deepest, furthest corners of her subconscious. She almost fools herself into thinking that she never needed or wanted him tonight, until he returns to her in ways that she least expects. He is in her dreams, in the memories that float to the surface of her mind over and over.

In the morning, Riza wakes up with a longing that has nowhere to go.