Chapter 2 - Not for a Wink

Riza sighed as she sank into the cushions of the sofa. She pulled the coat of her superior officer closer around her. She didn't have a second blanket, but when inhaling what was left of his scent, she didn't find it in her to complain.

Sleeping on the couch always bore the risk of getting licked by a certain dog. He was currently curled up on the floor, right in front of the sofa. He had his own bed, of course, but he didn't consider it that night. No, he needed to make use of the situation and place himself where he was guaranteed to notice when Riza got up. Being stepped on was worth the risk.

Exhausted, Riza had still dragged Roy out into the cold again, under the cover of night, for Hayate's walk. It was highly improbable that anyone would attack Roy in her flat, but she wouldn't take the risk. Most of all, she couldn't bring herself to be separated from him, not after she had failed to protect him from the alchemic circle.

Closing her eyes, Riza tried to ignore the uncomfortable extremes of her sofa: too baggy on one side, too stiff in the back. Like any ancient yard sale couch, it squeaked a lot, and depending on where she laid, she could feel springs bore into her side.

Save for Hayate's bed, none of the things she owned were new – not the couch, nor the kitchen or bed. Even the tableware was second-hand. The bedsheets were from her parents' home, something she had taken and then stored away for the duration of the war.

It wasn't as if she couldn't afford something new, but Riza told herself she had everything she needed. There were never any guests to impress. She was hardly ever home; she was married to her work.

She had practically been married to her superior too – in secret, of course. He never popped the question, except when he did, with his eyes, with his lips or with his hands, countless times, her every breath a pleading yes.

As if to remind her of how it was all gone and over, said superior silently padded towards the couch. Riza hadn't thought about sleepwear, a buttonless shirt of hers serving as his pyjamas. Hearing his bare feet on the floorboards made her contemplate donating a pair of socks too.

As a child, Riza had seldom sought comfort at night in her parents' arms. Her father had locked the door after one too many disturbances. Curled up in front of the closed door, she had cried quietly, on occasion found sleep on the cold floor.

So what – never having had the luxury to ask for help – was she supposed to do when lost, shimmering eyes greeted her in the darkness?

A small hand landed on her wrist. Curious, fearful, he studied her. She should have known; he was a needy child (not much different from his adult self). He had his reasons, she was certain.

With a pressed breath, Riza forced herself to wake up properly. "What's wrong?" she croaked, cleared her throat.

His hand travelled from her wrist to her hand, and she understood, opening her palm to enclose his tiny one.

"I can't sleep," Roy stated the obvious.

Riza frowned. She didn't know who to pity more – herself or him. He had been robbed of his environment, whatever it had been, perhaps his family too. Riza knew that his parents had died early, but not how old he had been or the circumstances. He was obviously a mama's boy, his mistrust towards her already as if evaporated.

He had a foster mother, but with her in Central and them communicating in code, Riza didn't deem it a good idea to try and contact her. At least he was used to the noise of a city, she thought to herself.

Sighing, swallowing the helplessness she felt, Riza ran her thumb up and down his dorsum.

"Can't you sleep with me?" he asked, unaware that if he would have said those exact words only yesterday; only that very morning, she would have reddened up until her ears (and clandestinely contemplated the offer). But his current voice was adorably pouty, and the shoved-out lower lip softened her effectively. He must have learned early how to get his way, even if in another way than Adult-Roy would.

"I don't think either of us will sleep much that way," she declined as she had when having tucked him into bed. Tucking her baby commanding officer into bed – their relationship knew no boundaries of weirdness.

Her Colonel, now that little boy. The hair was identical, but still so different. The same spiky mess. She had washed the same head, but it was so much smaller. She had run her fingers through the same hair she loved, knowing that underneath was not a single memory of her. Seeing the same face, younger, hearing his high voice; it was making her dizzy.

She was sure that if he didn't need her to be there for him, she would've long blacked out. Screamed the downs out of her pillow, cried herself to sleep.

Roy's other hand joined when enjoying the mellow caresses, snaking its way into her palm. Ridding herself of such thoughts, Riza wrapped both hands around his. She had to function to take care of him.

"What did your mama do when you couldn't sleep?" Riza asked. Hoping she wouldn't be asked back. Hoping she wasn't triggering any painful memories.

It hit her then; his questions at the hospital about being picked up. So then…?

"She would…" he pondered briefly, quickly, "bake me a chocolate cake." Roy beamed his most innocent smile.

Riza gave him a look. "You have five seconds to tell me the truth."

He shrunk. Caught red-handed. She might not have been the most pampered child when it came to affection, but even she knew how implausible that was. The way he glanced at his feet worried her, and she wanted to take back her strict tone instantly, when he took a deep breath.

"Mama tucked me into bed and read me a story and combed my hair and sang me a song and hugged me real tight and stayed until I fell asleep!" he rushed. Panting, he stared at her expectantly. Five seconds exactly. She hadn't meant it that way, but…

"Very well." Releasing his hands, Riza got up. Hayate stood the second she did, on their heels as Riza accompanied Roy back to her bedroom. Roy insisted on holding her hand for those few metres. He really was a sweet child, if a demanding one.

"I also have to go," he said once they arrived.

Supressing the next sigh, Riza let go of his hand. She was tired to the bone, not to mention overchallenged with the entire situation. He had no idea who he was meant to be and it bugged her relentlessly. He was always the one telling her what to do; her compass. She relied on him for guidance.

"Go on then."

"You're not coming?" He looked up at her as if she had just abandoned him in the gutter. During heavy rain. His theatrically quivering lip could create such specific mental images.

"I'll wait right here," she promised.

He hesitated for a moment, most likely contemplating whether to haul out the big guns and start sobbing like he had over having to eat his fish for dinner. When she sat down on the bed however, folding back the blanket to create a most inviting scene for him to return to, he reconsidered.

"Colo— Roy," Riza scolded gently.

"Story!" He climbed the bed.

She intensified her berating glance from before. "Didn't you have to go to the bathroom?"

"Not anymore," he lied. Grinning up at her was the last straw, so she nudged him to get up. He clung to her shirt. Another thing that would have tinted her cheeks crimson had he been his usual age.

"Roy."

He sucked in his lips, avoiding her glare. So she resorted to drastic measures – and most counterproductive ones, as she would come to know.

Poking a finger into his side, Riza earned a yelping laugh. Hayate got up from his basket, barking along to the laughter that rippled from Roy's chest where he was attacked by tickles until having to flee the bed.

"Hush!" Riza reached out to Hayate, calming him with a pet to his head. It was a miracle the neighbours hadn't come down to nag about the noise.

"I'm going, I'm going," Roy wheezed, a bright smile plastered across his face. Properly awake now, much to her dismay, he skipped away towards the bathroom. It was good to hear him laugh though; it was undoubtedly a considerable step from that morning in hospital.

She wondered for the first time whether he would have been the one to take her in should their roles have been reversed. She still couldn't believe her luck that he was the single survivor.

Riza would give her own life if only it would have helped her poor Colonel, but she knew that even if it worked, he wouldn't have been content with her decision. That, and she had a job to do. She was still his bodyguard, she told herself, not wanting to believe reality yet, and not wanting to accept that she was now quite literally babysitting her superior.

"Did you wash your hands?" She raised a brow, blocking off his path where he eagerly stood in front of the bed. Traumatised by recent events, yes, but at the same time easy to delight with enough attention.

His face fell. When she didn't budge, he hustled back into the bathroom.

"With soap," she added when hearing his barefooted pitter-patter return all too quickly. The water turned back on, and she couldn't help a triumphant smirk. "And turn off the lights," she called, hearing the faint click of the switch a moment later.

Finally allowed back into bed, Roy crawled beneath the sheets, a broad smile shining up at her. He was cute, she couldn't help but admit, secretly glad not to be missing out on this. He cuddled into her side, grasping her hand to clumsily lift it above his head and secure it on his opposite shoulder. Her raised brow never descended, by now amused rather than reprimanding.

"Story?"

Riza pursed her lips as she pondered. She was a terrible storyteller. Roy told her as much, mercilessly remarking her poor imagination throughout. At the same time, he groped her shirt, his other hand making sure hers stayed where it was around him.

Minutes passed. With each tick of the clock, Riza found herself sinking down the headboard, her voice lulling drowsily, hopefully making him sleepy in turn. By the time she had finished her more than lame story, Riza was almost convinced he had fallen asleep out of boredom.

"Miss Riza?" Roy piped up when she thought he had dozed off.

She peeled her eyes open. "Yes?"

"Can we get my things tomorrow?"

His words were a punch in the gut. Of course, he must have missed his stuffed animal or whatever he took to bed with him. She couldn't upset him by telling him that it was all gone a good twenty years back. "We'll go to your place tomorrow," she said instead. It would be useful to have his car anyway.

In- and exhaling deeply, Roy finally announced his defeat. As if with a mind of their own, Riza's lips came to plant a soft kiss on the crown of his head. She blushed lightly, trying to deny the fuzzy, motherly feelings she was definitely not supposed to develop for her commanding officer. She harboured other, by far more prohibited feelings towards him, but the knowledge that he was, in fact, this child, made her feel out of place.

It was unfair, really. She loved the man, and she loved the boy too, if in a different way. For him, it must have been even worse. He had no idea about his later identity and role in her life whatsoever, yet she treated him with caution and restraint.

She would have to tell him eventually.

Maybe it was because of the pity she felt for him that she let him hold on to her. Maybe it was because, after all, she loved him no matter his age that she let him hug her as best as he could, her own arms winding around him tightly as she shut her eyes one final time that night.

An hour, perhaps two, and Riza was awake again. Her chest was too constricted, her stomach too heavy with guilt. Roy awoke when she couldn't keep from rocking with a sob. Tiny fists furled more tightly around the fabric of her shirt. When warm tears seeped into it, Riza swallowed the next sob, held her breath and blinked the itch from her eyes. She rubbed his back until he fell asleep again.

And she swore to herself that she would never crack in front of him again.