Aughhhhhh I did not mean for that hiatus to occur...stupid writer's block. Stupid school. Stupid lack of motivation to do anything except homework. Does this count as febuwhump now? At least, for the last week of February? *nervous laughter* I'm hoping to get back into this, then back into Simple Things...but who knows with me cause things never go according to plan XD

Anyway,,,

Ch 13: Grief

Rated K+

Characters: Roy, Riza

Timeline: BH/Manga

Notes: Is this the first non-Edward-featuring story I've ever written for FMA? I think it is…that's wild. But as much as I love Ed-boi, I think this prompt just really called for some Roy/Riza time. As you could probably guess, it's about Hughes' death, and how they're both grieving the loss. Time for them to take comfort in each other; God knows they always want to hehehe

Waking up every morning is like a new wave of agony for Roy Mustang. For just a moment, everything is fine; then, he remembers. Maes Hughes is dead. He's been dead for six whole days. It's been two days since his funeral. It wasn't a dream. Maes is really gone, and he's never coming back. It tears a new hole in Roy's chest every time he remembers—a big, painful void in the center of his being when he thinks about the night it happened. He was on the phone with Maes. He should've known something was seriously wrong—but by the time he realized it, it was too late. He heard the line click, and immediately sent police to every phone booth in the city…only for them to find his best friend's body. He wasn't even able to visit the crime scene that night; not until the next day. Seeing the blood and knowing it belonged to Maes… it tore his heart apart in ways he didn't think another person could.

It took until the funeral for him to really snap into action. That was what solidified it as reality, watching the coffin be lowered into the ground and hearing Gracia and Elysia's cries as they said goodbye. That was when he knew he had to throw every bit of his being into figuring out who murdered Hughes.

So, that's what he's been doing for the past couple days: waking up and going to work. It helps to distract from the immense pain in his soul, but it doesn't eradicate it entirely. Any moment not spent deep in work allows that sorrow and grief to resurface, and he can't allow that. Even sleep isn't safe—not unless he consumes enough alcohol first. Not enough to be feeling the effects the following day, but just enough to reach a peaceful oblivion through the night.

Today, Roy is back at work, reading through every gun-related murder file he can get his hands on. He's searching for something, anything similar to Hughes' case. Even the tiniest connection is worth looking into in a case with zero leads. He pores over sheet after sheet, setting aside anything suspicious to reevaluate later. Hours pass, alone in that private office, and no one dares to disturb him because they all know how important this work is to him….Or maybe they know how truly distraught he is over Maes' death. He's just not going to consider that right now.

Nine hours later and the workday comes to an end. Still not a word has been said to the colonel; in a way, he's almost hurt by it. But on the other hand, it's far better to suffer alone…Not that he's suffering. He isn't. He's just trying to get justice for his friend, that's all. Roy pulls the next case file off his stack, uncaring if the workday is over. He doesn't need overtime pay if the military is that stingy; he'll stay here well after-hours without compensation if it means staying occupied. He can't go home yet, because if he goes home, he'll start thinking. And if he starts thinking, he'll need something else to drown out those emotions…namely alcohol. And so the cycle continues.

Roy has been at work for only another fifteen minutes when he hears a knock on his door. It's the first time all day his work has been disturbed; even his two brief trips to the cafeteria and restroom went without comment from anyone earlier. "Come in," he calls out, his voice rough from disuse.

The person who enters is exactly who he was expecting: Riza Hawkeye. She immediately salutes. "I am about to head home for the night, sir," she says.

"You don't need my permission to leave after-hours, Lieutenant," Roy replies, still looking at the document in his hands.

She pauses. "I am aware. I just…thought I would check on you before leaving, sir."

"For what purpose?" Roy asks. He has a hunch, a facet of Riza's female empathy that even war and professionalism haven't gotten rid of. Roy thinks there's just a natural kind of compassion that only women know, and which can reach people when nothing else does…not that he'd ever tell her that. She's always been privy to checking up on anyone she thinks might be going through a tough time…usually the Elric brothers. But the Elrics aren't here, and haven't been for weeks.

Which means she thinks he's going through a tough time.

Which…she's entirely correct about.

Riza looks Roy in the eyes, answering his question as calmly as ever. "I was coming to see if you were planning on going home, as well."

Roy shakes his head, averting his gaze to avoid her penetrating stare. "I have too much work to do."

Riza pauses for a moment. "You know as well as I that you need to rest, sir."

Oh, how he wishes it were that simple. But any moment not spent working is a moment where his feelings can creep in and take hold of him. "I will, Lieutenant."

"When?" she asks plainly.

He curses her concern; it's so difficult to lie to her, after everything they've been through together. "I'm not sure," he replies candidly.

She pauses for another moment. "If I may advise you, I think you'd be best to leave sooner rather than later."

"Why is that?" he continues, attempting to maintain an air of stubbornness. And yet still, he can feel her eyes on him, seeing deep into his soul, all the raw emotion he tries so hard to suppress.

"Because I know you, Roy," she says.

And with all formality dropped, just the connection of two people as equals, as familiars…Roy can't pretend any longer. He smirks, but without any of the usual mirth. "Better than I know myself, sometimes."

"Right," she confirms casually, "and I know the brigadier general's death is still on your mind."

"Why wouldn't it be? It's my job to find and punish his murderer."

"That's not what I meant." Roy doesn't respond, so Riza continues. "You blame yourself."

Roy is quiet for several minutes. Riza waits patiently, standing at attention across from his desk in the darkening office. The light from the streetlamps outside filters into the room, the only other source being the desk lamp lighting Roy's papers. Riza knows Roy, and she knows that he'll talk eventually; she also knows that he knows that she won't leave until he does.

"...He wasn't supposed to die." Roy laces his fingers together, looking at the desk with dark eyes. "He was supposed to be with me all the way to the top."

A deep pang of sadness settles in Riza's heart. She, too, is heartbroken over Hughes' death. While she may not have been as close to him as Roy, she thought of him as a great friend and ally, and anyone worthy of "best friend" status to Roy Mustang is worthy of her respect. He was a devoted and loving father and husband, and the world would be much better with him in it rather than six feet underground. She understands Roy's desire to find Maes' killer at any cost; she wants justice for his death just as badly.

However, she also knows the path Roy is headed toward if he doesn't face his grief. It's a path they all went down after Ishval, when they were mourning the people they'd killed (despite not deserving to). They got so caught up in seeking justice and feeding their anger with themselves that they ended up being worse off than at the start. Roy feels responsible for Maes' death, so he feels like he doesn't deserve to mourn it. But mourning is a natural, essential thing for human beings. He mourned a little the day of the funeral, even allowing himself to cry in front of her…but that's it. Ever since then, he's let the clouds of grief build and build, but never given them a chance to let out their rain. There's no chance he's had enough time to grieve, but he doesn't want to let himself do it anymore.

Riza follows Roy's gaze to his desk, and the mountains of papers covering it. "I know," she says finally. "He didn't deserve to die so young…But, Roy…" She pauses when he looks up, expression full of pain and dread. It makes her falter for a moment, no matter how important the words may be. She takes a breath, pushing on. "You know you can't protect everyone, no matter how much you want to. We put on these uniforms every day knowing we may die in them. It's part of being a soldier."

Roy contemplates this for a long moment. He knows it's true. He knows it. But that doesn't stop him from feeling like it's nonetheless unfair that someone like Maes had to die. "I just…I miss him, Riza," he says softly, hardly able to utter the words aloud.

She's quiet for a moment as well. "That's alright."

"I talked to him right before it happened."

"That doesn't make it your fault."

"...Maybe not, but it sure feels like it all the same."

"We'll find his killer, Roy. We won't let Gracia and Elysia down."

Roy remains still, just staring at his hands. Riza, hesitating just a moment, walks around to his side of the desk and eases his hands from their folded position, taking them into her own. With a small tug, she guides him to his feet, looking up into his eyes. There's so much pain, and sorrow, and guilt in those black eyes, and she just looks at him, saying with her gaze everything she can't say out loud. Riza owes everything to Roy, and she would lay down her life for him without a second thought—and knows he would do the same.

"Please, Roy," she says finally, choking ever so slightly on the words. "Just go home."

He remains rigid for a minute, before exhaling deeply and closing his eyes. "You're right. About everything." A lone tear slips from his eye, rolling down his face.

She gazes softly at him despite his eyes being closed, squeezing his hands once in support.

And, for the first time that week, Roy allows the rain to fall.