Chapter 7 - Promises

Her breathing was beginning to calm to its normal rhythm. Her brows still furrowed in pain, and she moved slowly as she slid into the warm water across from him. There was a pressed, swallowed sound in her sigh, robbing it of its relief.

When her hands landed on his sides, pulling him onto her knees, Roy shivered. It made her smile.

"I'm sorry." Riza rubbed her hands together above the water. They were ice cold, just like her knees.

They hadn't brought bath salts, a bar of shampoo the only thing mildly foaming on the surface. Its soapy texture looked sticky, like spider webs wrapping around each bubble. Riza hadn't pinned up her hair, dipping it back into the water. Wet, it appeared longer than before.

He reached out for it. "Are you okay?" His hand strayed to the bandage on her upper arm. Bloody and moist, it scared him enough to merely brush the backs of his nails to it.

"I should be asking you." Riza took his hand away from the bandage. She fished for the shampoo at the bottom of the tub, lathering his hair with strong, all-is-right-with-the-world strokes. "That was a very risky thing to do," she said is as if chiding, but her tone was mellow and tired. "I'm grateful nothing happened to you."

"Is this where these come from?" He traced white lines and more visible scars on her arms, gaze wandering down to another on her collarbone. "Are they my fault?"

Riza's eyes softened. The frown never left, but at least it was directed at him and not the pain of her arm. He wasn't sure if he should have been glad about that or not. The same applied to her breathing – it spoke of ache, but at least she was breathing.

"I would be a lousy bodyguard if I didn't have them. But remember, I already told you that whatever I do is my own choice. I chose to follow and protect you." She pushed a bit of hair from his forehead. "No blaming yourself. You're not the one who shot me."

Roy pouted sorrily, not at all consoled by her words.

Riza's chest deflated under his hands with a small, helpless sigh. Taking his face in her hands, she pressed a long kiss to the top of his head. "And now I have soap in my mouth," she nagged.

Roy giggled. He watched her bend her neck to wipe her lips on her shoulder. He saw so much of his mother in her, yet she was so very different. There was the same grace, the same tenderness in her voice, the way she held and caressed him. Never had he wanted to imagine Riza drenched in blood; never had he thought he would get so close to losing another mother.

He pushed his face into the hollow of her neck. Riza held her breath, waiting for sobbing but he didn't give her any. With a lack of clothes to clutch, he groped his way up her neck, hugging her fast. She returned it immediately, foam popping softly on her arms as they emerged from the tub, dripping, shivering, unwavering.

A minute ticked by. The water ceased rippling. Roy also shivered with his torso out of the water, but she couldn't sink down due to her arm, and he needed that hug.

He was surprised when she slid down anyway, inhaling sharply as she left her injured arm bent at an odd angle over the rim of the tub. The other kept holding Roy, mellowly rubbing his back under the water.

"Is it hard," he asked into the silence, "with me being a child?" What a ridiculous thing to say, Roy found, remembering not the split of a second of being grown-up. It wasn't a lie though that he had been, it couldn't be – why else would she care for him so?

"Yes," Riza whispered. He didn't dare peek at her face and find out what a broken voice looked like. She dropped her chin to his head. "I love you in so many ways."

Roy's heart fluttered warmly. He clutched at her neck, smothered his face in it.

"But it's not easy to exchange one way for the other."

Her chest quivered ever so slightly. Roy peeled away, but Riza didn't meet his eyes. Her breath stuttered, and when she couldn't hide a sniffle, she turned her head away, ashamed to show him just how accurately he had guessed. Riza's lungs shuddered, her exhale crippling, but her lips wobbled into a smile when Roy wiped the first tears off her cheeks.

She had to swallow to retrieve her voice. "I know what you're doing." Her embrace tightened around his back. "But you shouldn't be the one comforting me."

"You're important to me."

She hissed when he accidentally stung her eyes with soap. He wanted to crawl out of the bathtub, get her a towel, but Riza didn't let him go. Not just yet. Red eyes shut, she sighed in a way that almost sounded like relaxation for the first time that day.

"And you to me." She gave a squeeze. "So much."

The water grew cold, but her hand had warmed up. Roy didn't mind the cold air anymore, nestled into the crook of her neck.

Riza kept her eyes closed, the back of her head dropped onto the rim of the tub. "For what it's worth," she muttered, "it's nice to know that you've always had such a kind heart."

Havoc knocked on the door when the last of the water had stopped gurgling down the drain.

"So, guys," he opened the door, "we contacted Fuery and he said it's better to stay here until— holy cow!" His eyes blew to saucers. "I didn't know you had a tattoo, Hawkeye!" And what a tattoo!

Wet hair sticking to her nape, it barely covered the top of the tattoo. The singlet she wore exposed her upper back, the bandage on her arm forgotten with black script slithering across her shoulder blades. It was massive, that much he saw, no matter how quickly Riza spun around.

"Don't just come in!" she somewhat shrieked, afraid rather than embarrassment.

"It's not proper – you should know better," Roy chided alongside her.

Havoc was pulled out of his momentary paralysis when a bloody towel soared his way, slapping him square in the face. Next came Roy's comb, thumping feebly against his shin.

"Don't bother the ladies." Breda wrenched him backwards, slamming the door.

"Hey!" Roy complained from behind it.

"Sorry," Havoc muttered, shaking his head. "Sorry, Hawkeye," he then called, but didn't get a reply. Still slightly baffled, he followed Breda to the kitchen.

She was the last person in all of Amestris whom he would have expected to have a tattoo. The more he tried to remember what it depicted, the more clearly he summoned the image of what had kept him from seeing. Scars. Not her hair or clothes or even the minuteness of the script, but large, disfiguring burn scars. Almost as if deliberate.

He didn't want to believe it, but it gave the name Flame Alchemist a whole new meaning.

Breda nudged him. Havoc blinked from the pot Breda was wiping down to where it indicated.

Roy was standing in the doorway, arms akimbo. That enormous tattoo had almost completely distracted from the way Roy had eagerly copied Riza – standing on a stool next to her, facing the mirror, combing his hair while she brushed hers.

"I'm sorry, I should've waited before entering," Havoc apologised. He realised for the first time that had Riza been naked, he would never be able to look at her the same way again. While he was in love with a woman's breasts, his superior's were something he never dared to picture.

That, and he would have most likely been killed by a bullet between the eyes.

"You gotta swear to keep it a secret!" Roy pointed his finger accusingly. "Swear on your life."

"I swear." Havoc put a hand over his heart, taken aback by the ferocity in the six-year-old's piercing gaze.

"Swear to never talk about it to anyone – not even to yourself!"

"Alright, I promise."

"Good." Roy nodded.

Havoc exhaled with relief. "So that's the secret she told you to keep?"

Roy nodded again. It supported Havoc's theory that they had already bathed together.

It made him wonder just how much of their closeness originated in pity and those undeniable motherly feelings she showed Roy. She had to know that once he regained his soul and his true age, he might very well remember everything they had gone through.

"So now that I'm in on it, you can tell me more about it, right?" Havoc asked, always with one ear towards the bathroom. He hoped Riza wasn't taking this long because of her wound, at the same time glad she hadn't appeared yet. He was curious.

"And why would I?" Roy crossed his arms.

Havoc raised a brow. "Because… I outrank you?" He gave it a shot, adding a grin to lessen the gravity of insubordination. He couldn't imagine Riza having had a rebellious phase in her youth – and the burn scars were by far more intriguing than the tattoo anyway.

"I'm the Colonel here," Roy declared.

"Not now you aren't."

"But I will be and then I'll give you toilet scrubbing duty every day."

"That's not a real soldier's duty."

"It will be for you."

"Make him work the evening shifts," Breda supplied from the side, apparently having been excluded from the whole swearing to secrecy. He hadn't seen the tattoo, but he wasn't stupid. Still, even a tactician like him couldn't guess what exactly Havoc had witnessed. "That's how you usually punish him – steal his date nights."

"Bloody traitor," Havoc growled at Breda, who shrugged.

"Boys," Riza appeared in the doorway. Roy immediately went to hug her leg.

Her hair was still wet. Her arm was hidden under her shirt – a different, less close-fitting, blue turtleneck with long sleeves.

Breda snickered. Havoc pouted, only making Breda laugh more. "Degraded to a toddler." Breda teasingly swatted Havoc with the kitchen towel. "Mama Hawkeye strikes again."

"Mama Hawk…" Havoc muttered, taking a liking to the term.

Riza ignored them, pretending to be very busy as she inspected the cabinets for food options.

"I didn't tell him about the secret," Roy whispered to her. She tapped his lips and he fell quiet. Turning on the heel, he started shoving Breda out the door. Havoc got up by himself, following, Roy helping with a tug to his arm. There was no door to slam, so Roy kept an eye on the two where they surrendered to lounging on the couch.

"Hard to imagine that this is the same man swearing us to secrecy for undercover missions." Breda snickered. Roy really wasn't too good at keeping secrets yet. "I was gonna make lunch in your stead, you know," Breda raised his voice, but Roy was back in the kitchen, demanding Riza's full attention.

"Lunch," Havoc huffed. "It's already past four."

"What a way to spend your Saturday morning, huh?"

"You can say that again." Havoc slumped further into the overused cushions. "Son of a—" He cut himself off, rubbing his neck. A stolen glance towards the kitchen. "She could've died right then and there…" His heart sped up at the thought of it.

The shot ringing out, Havoc's eyes on the assassin, the deafening silence where she hadn't screamed. She hadn't screamed. She could've well been dead.

"Miss Riza?" Roy's angel's voice rang timidly next door. She hummed in reply, inspecting canned vegetables. "Am I better when I'm older?"

She stopped her search. "Better?" Riza brought her head out of the cabinet, puzzled.

Roy stared at his feet. He wagged his knees, hands folded behind his back. "Cause I can't keep a secret…" he muttered, discontent with himself.

She let out a sigh. Havoc knew that had Breda been in the same room, he would have been killed by her glare – it was Breda's comment that troubled Roy.

Getting to her feet, Riza picked Roy up. She balanced him on her hip, tilting the pot on the counter with her other hand.

"What do you see?"

He frowned at his distorted reflection. "Me?"

"Then that's all you need to be." She patted his leg.

He furled his fingers into her shirt, dropping his head to her collarbone.

"How about I make us something special tonight?"

"Cake?"

"No," she chuckled. "But something you'll like – which I know because when you were a teenager, you never stopped asking me to make it." She playfully poked his cheek.

He giggled. "Can I help you make it?"

"Oh, I insist."

Havoc smiled to himself. As much as he was in shock by the possible near death of her, he was amazed by Riza's ability to brush it aside and be strong and silly for this little boy. Not for the first time did he wonder if she still remembered who that little boy truly was.

At that moment however, Havoc was by far more interested in an elaboration on Riza meeting a teenage Colonel. He waited a while until clinking and splashing had turned into peaceful simmering.

"Dinner—" Riza interrupted herself to look at the time. It was the Colonel's State Alchemist's watch she clandestinely carried with her. "Yes, let's call it dinner," she said with a small sigh, "won't be ready for half an hour."

"Thanks for taking care of it," Breda called from the bathroom. Then the door shut, the shower turning on a minute later.

Havoc watched Riza stir what was already smelling too delicious for being made of nothing but canned food. Roy was still on her arm – the good one – but she was using the injured arm as if nothing was amiss. Havoc didn't muse on whether or not she had brought pain killers. Something they all knew was that Riza Hawkeye refused anything that made her drowsy; anything that hindered her goal of protecting who was dearest to her.

"Are we gonna sleep here tonight?" Roy asked. He was twirling a potato sprout between his fingers.

"Mhm."

"On the floor?"

"I'm sure you can have the couch if you ask them nicely."

"Okay." Roy's eyes landed on Havoc in the doorframe. "Can we have the couch?"

"Sure," Havoc purred, amused.

Riza set Roy down when he squirmed. Potato sprout in hand, and scurried over to the bathroom door. He knocked repeatedly with his fist. "Can we have the couch?"

"What?" Breda shouted over the water of the shower.

They kept on yelling back and forth until Breda emerged, alarmed. He groaned when finally understanding the lack of urgency.

Roy used his chance of the open bathroom door and collect Riza's bag. Insisting on 'carrying' it by himself, he laboriously dragged it into the living room to set up their camp.

Havoc's gaze went back to Riza, who was monitoring with a sorrowful fondness in her eyes. His gaze landed on the turtleneck. Something she always wore. Something she apparently always had to wear.

"Hawkeye, I have so many questions."

She briskly turned away. "We met when he was fifteen. He lived in our house for a while, and I was always the one cooking. That's how I know."

Not too outlandish. Roy was an orphan. No matter how little details she betrayed though, Havoc knew with certainly that his superiors' relationship, however young it had apparently begun, was not one of a sibling-like nature.

"I'm really sorry I barged in earlier. I meant what I said when he made me promise," Havoc said. Her stirring stiffened, so he dropped the subject. She must have planted those words into Roy's head – about not talking about it to anyone.

It wasn't until after dinner that Havoc brought up another thing that was troubling him.

The light was dim, night shrouding the world into a murky, thick darkness. Roy was curled up on the couch, his head on Riza's lap. He had fallen asleep halfway through them wrapping up the mission.

"Hey," Havoc hesitated. "How's your arm?"

"Not too bad, actually." Riza didn't move it for proof. It was hard to tell whether she was being honest or simply tired. She stopped stroking Roy's hair, feeling self-conscious with Havoc watching.

Breda folded the map on which they had tracked the barrier and last positions of their targets. He went outside to check the car, making sure it was perfectly in shape to take them back to East City early in the morning.

"Thank you again for your help."

"Sure, any time," Havoc assured her. It stung his heart more than he cared to admit, that way her eyes only ever lingered on Roy. "You know he might remember this once we get him back." He couldn't help himself. "That he might remember this mission and well…" He started to point at her, chickening out with vague gestures around the room.

Riza watched from the corner of her eye.

The Colonel could be a flirt and a tease, but he would take his Lieutenant's secret tattoo seriously – had he not already known. That did not have to apply to sharing the bathtub with her.

Less meant as a scold but a warning for the future, Havoc mellowed his tone. "Just keep in mind what you're in for once he's back."

"Did you see him earlier?" Riza tore her gaze off Roy. Havoc didn't have to recall anything with the frown she was giving him – there was so much pain; so much grief and suffering that she must have felt for Roy. In his current mind, he had only been orphaned recently. He had already been close to tears when Riza had gone to a meeting and now, he had had to see her covered in blood, his little body shaking with horror and helplessness.

And he was responsible for it.

"I couldn't have refused him," Riza whispered. She absently smoothed a strand of Roy's hair away from his temple. "To him, the present is all that counts. So for now, that's my priority too." She met Havoc's eyes dead on. And she was right. Justifying to a traumatised, trembling child that because it was improper for his future self to see her in the bathtub, he wouldn't be granted comfort now?

Neither mentioned the possibility of Roy never actually turning back. Havoc was almost certain she was in complete denial of it.

He offered a small smile. "I think I see now why you're so intent on keeping him with you." She glanced at him cautiously. It hurt how much she was on guard, even with the team, but Havoc chose not to take it personally. She was like a tigress, protecting her cub. "You guys go way back."

She was protecting their history together.

"You knew from the beginning as well as I that this wouldn't just be an operation to get our superior back," Riza softly said.

Havoc's smile returned, this time directed at Roy. "Nah." He puffed out a breath of defeat. "I guess you're right again."

He might have been a procrastinator, an idealist and sometimes shameless girlfriend-stealer, but Roy was so much more than their superior.

They both watched him sleep in silence.

Breda returned, shivering. "This place doesn't have a heater but it's still warmer than outside," he complained.

They wished Riza a good night, and after a while, the rustling of their sleeping bags on the ground died down.

Riza sank onto her side. Roy was tugged safely between her body and the backrest of the couch. She had almost drifted off when he stirred. He was sobbing.

Her chest constricted. Trying hard to blank out the pain of her left arm, Riza tightened her embrace. He sniffled and sobbed. Small hands came up to gasp her shirt. She rubbed his back, caressed his hair. She couldn't tell whether it was about his parents or her. He had been brave all day, readily allowing himself to be distracted. It was only natural that nightmares would come to haunt what his subconscious remained aware of despite his efforts.

Knowing there was nothing she could say to ease the heartache, Riza planted a long kiss on his forehead.

His grip tightened. "Miss Riza?" Roy's voice was high and shaky.

"Yes?"

He sniffled, a sob robbing his words for another moment. "Will you adopt me?"

Her eyes widened. For a moment, Riza couldn't say anything. He really lived in the present, whether he grasped the reality of his true age or not. He pronounced what she was too afraid to consider; what she had refused to consider, now leaving her at a loss.

"Or don't you want me either?" Roy whimpered.

Riza gasped lightly. The orphanage, it dawned on her, the days of not having been picked up.

She wrapped her arms around him as tightly as she could without suffocating him, then her legs, pressing her cheek to the top of his head.

"I do, I want you," she vowed firmly. "I want to be with you every day of every week of every month of every year."

"Really?" He could only squeak.

Rubbing his back became more fierce. "Really." She kissed his forehead again.

When he looked up in the darkness, the moonlight behind the old curtain acting as her guidance, Riza brushed his tears away. It didn't stop them from welling up anew. He surprised her when he reached out, finding tears staining her cheeks as well.

"The only problem is this mission." Riza blinked the itch from her eyes. She couldn't lie to him; she couldn't bear him feeling betrayed. "We won't be able to decide anything before we haven't tried all we can to reverse that man's alchemy."

Roy nodded. He lowered his head. His sniffling lessened with every stroke through his hair.

Caught up in listening to his breathing, Riza didn't notice the faint shifting of the others in their sleeping bags.

"And if we won't find a way… then will you adopt me?" Roy didn't sound hopeful, but the tiny flutter in his chest remained, one he didn't want to nurture but one that wouldn't die either. He couldn't keep from wishing. He couldn't keep from loving her, praying that she didn't only love him for his adult self.

Riza hugged him fast, hiding the tears that sprung to her eyes.

"I would do anything for you."