It's been so loooong since I've actually written anything much less completed anything. After rewatching fma:b I had to experiment with blind Roy. I'm pretty pleased. I hope you are too~

It was the early hours of the morning. Roy Mustang could only assume. He listened. The birds chirped just outside of the window. There was a subtle hum from the slow-moving fan above. He felt the sun blanket his skin with warmth and there was a crispness in the air. But when he opened his eyes, he only had the memories of the daylight. Beyond that, it was dark. It was quiet and still.

Roy traced his face, the strands of hair sticking up from a night's sleep. Downwards, he acknowledged the clothes on his body, the sleeveless patient scrubs. He wiggled his toes. Everything seemed to be in place.

At his fingertips, he felt the bedclothes and the hospital bed mattress underneath. He carefully brought himself up, grasping the linens at his sides for support. As if there was no instance in his life that he didn't sit up in complete darkness in his own bed. But it's different, he mused. Blindness was different. There was no such thing as an instant reassurance anymore like the flip of a light switch had been or the simple act of opening his eyes.

His head followed the sunlight's warmth, looking around with his disabled eyes and could only bask in what the nerves of his skin told him. For all he knew, it could have been a heater placed in an awkwardly high place. But it was also spring, so that was also unlikely.

Less than a day had gone by since he lost his eyesight, forced to see the truth and giving up his vision as toll. He tried to keep his head up, tried to find the silver lining and keep his strength. It could have been worse, he thought. It could have been a limb or his entire body, like the Elrics, or vital innards, like Izumi Curtis.

But deep down, Mustang knew what he truly felt: despair and hopelessness and it didn't even have to rain. A darker voice within himself told him a limb, a body, even the fingers he performs alchemy with could be replaced with automail. And if Izumi Curtis could live as long as she has, then so could he and he'd be able to move forward. He would have preferred any of those to his eyesight. But the Truth is cruel. He consciously clenched his fist, gritting his teeth.

If he were to follow that dark hole within him, he'd truly be lost.

He heard bedsheets shuffling to his left with a quick creak of the bed from someone relieving the springs in the bed next to him. He turned his head toward the source, still trying to use his eyes to see.

"Who's there?" He demanded with a low gruff voice, attempting to conceal any emotion he was dealing with. He tried to keep his nerves under control. However, someone was in the room with him and he didn't notice. How would I have noticed? How do I even get my gloves? How can I be a Fuhrer with no vision? I'm a sitting duck. A silent assassin would take advantage of that then and they could take advantage of it now. Bare footfalls resonated closer and closer. He braced for the worst.

"Colonel."

He nearly jumped out of his skin when a hand gently rested on top of his.

"Sir, it's me. I'm here." She sighed. He felt the bed indent as she sat on the side of his bed just beyond arm's reach. "I'm right here."

"Lieutenant." Relief washed over him like the warmth of the sun. The tension crippling his muscles immediately dissipated. Mustang found his commandeering voice again, "I didn't realize you were here. Have you been here all night?"

"Yes."

He narrowed his eyebrows, annoyed with her persistence and no consideration for her own wellbeing, "Wh-"

"As a patient for my injuries, sir," she interjected emotionlessly.

Mustang froze, slightly bowing his head, clenching his fist again underneath her palm. He selfishly wound himself up, licking his own wounds, that he emotionally abandoned his subordinates. He had already forgotten Riza neared death and that frightened him more than any silent assassin. "I'm sorry."

Her calloused, yet miraculously feminine hand uncoiled his fist and intertwined with his fingers. He knew these moments with her came once in a blue moon and not sooner, cherishing these lapses in professionalism. He smiled briefly until he felt moisture seep between her fingers. The substance was warm when it reached his own and slid off without resistance. It wasn't thick like blood, but rather watery. Tears.

He almost reacted, before he beat her to it.

"It should have been me." The Lieutenant finally spoke. The sound of her words didn't carry directly to him but like she hung her head like he just had over their hands. The pain in her voice was hardly noticeable, but it was there and it was immense.

"I've been haunted all my life," she managed, squeezing his hand. "By things I wish I could change in the past. But nothing like this." He heard her suppress her sniffling. Teardrops continued to fall onto the back of his hand and her voice began to betray her for emotion. "It should have been me, Roy. Had I been capable of alchemy, had I been my father's protégé it would have been me."

There's an indescribable agony listening to someone bring themselves down when they hardly deserve it. For him, that increased tenfold when it involved her. A victim of circumstances she didn't choose and yet managed to build herself up, establishing her own name at his side.

The Colonel could hear her restraining any audible sounds produced by her moment of weakness. After all this time even in the darkness, he could tell. Judging by her words and disregard for formalities, she was hurting. He was speaking to the woman beyond the military uniform.

"But then," he said, pausing on the weight of his words. "I wouldn't have had the pleasure to know Riza Hawkeye." He said it abruptly, without a second thought. Roy realized nothing would be more true or half as sincere as that statement.

Roy heard her shift where she rested. Perhaps to sit up straight or to look away from him. Fortunately, she continued to hold onto his hand. He took the opportunity to scoot up closer to her, using her grip like a tether line. With his free hand, he trailed up her arm to guide him until he found the bottom of her jaw, cupping her face and wiping away an escaping tear. Warmly, he offered another smile whether she was looking or not. "I was on the edge of losing myself and you brought me back. I lost my eyesight," he said, waving his hand in front of his face, then replacing it to hold her hand with both of his. "And you were my eyes. I've been through hell and back with you, Riza. I wouldn't trade you to see again."

She became still again. He counted his lucky stars no one had come in the room yet. "What time is it?"

"It's early," she murmured, confusion hinted at her voice by the sudden change in subject. "Nearing 6 am."

"Ah, perfect." He let go of her hand, leaning back on the headboard. "I need you to do me a favor. Get under the covers and hug me." He lifted the sheets to gesture the invite, giving her a cocky grin. The fact remained that he was blind for the time being, but he needed her to know she was blameless, even if it meant throwing indecent jokes at her.

Riza laughed to his gratification. "You're an idiot," she told him.

"I'll be your jester, if you'll be my queen." He smiled mischievously in response. He knew she'd leave his side, fed up with him. The springs creaked as she got up.

He set down the sheets and they rose on their own again. His head turned towards his side, feeling another body situate themselves, legs sliding in next to his, resting her arm across his chest. "Don't look so surprised," she stated. "This is what you wanted, isn't it?"

Roy chuckled at the thought of being bested in his own antics. He instinctually wrapped an arm around her, hugging her close. Maybe being blind won't be so bad at all.

He began to turn on his side to give her more space. Her arm shot out to aid him so he wouldn't fall off the edge, then relaxed in front of him. He could only guess he was staring right at her. They lied in comfortable silence.

Roy could feel her quiet breath, the heat from her side of the bed, and smell the natural scent from her freshly washed hair. He didn't need his eyes to see the soft expression she probably had in front of him, but he wished he did.

His hand glided over her shoulder, reaching her neck, thumbing the bandages. The result of her injuries. He frowned. "How bad is it?"

"They cut the carotid artery." She grabbed the base of index and middle finger, trailing up and down her bandaged neck. "It would have been bad if May didn't act as soon as she did. I should be discharged in a day due to the loss of blood." He felt the vibration of her voice through the dressing as she spoke.

Roy maneuvered his hand around hers and brought her fingers close to his face, nuzzling her hand. "I'm glad you're okay." He took the pleasure in imagining her blushing, though she did tense up. While she didn't respond, he did feel her feet rub against his under the covers. "How incredibly inappropriate, Miss Hawkeye. Footsies?"

"I'd hardly consider any of this appropriate." She quipped back. "And if you're going to play this game, I may as well warm my feet."

He hummed in response. "It won't matter. Those honorably discharged papers will arrive any day."

She immediately became frigid, snapping her hand away. "What about your goals, ambitions? What we've worked for?" She asked him, sounding insecure and irate for the first time a long time. Mustang could feel the glare she was burning into him.

"Who's going to believe in a man who can't see the country he's supposed to rebuild?" He asked, unintentionally letting a trace of dejection slip at the thought of his military career being prematurely over.

"I'd believe in the man who says he'll get it done and honors his word through his actions." Riza settled back down, closer to his torso.

"You'd believe in me?" He replied hopefully.

"I'd believe in you."

"How would I lead if I can't tell which way is forward?"

"The same way you always have whenever you've been unsure: placing your trust in your men and your instincts."

"Oh." She made it sound so simple. Maybe it was, maybe the sun hadn't set for him yet.

He could almost feel her smile into his chest, "I can tell we're both hopeless, aren't we?"

"Beyond salvation," he said. "I get the feeling we'll make do somehow. As long as you're with me."

She nodded against him, "I haven't strayed yet."

"I noticed. But can you imagine yourself as a Flame Alchemist?" he asked, eyebrows raised in childish awe. "There's a reason the Truth exists. We'd all be in trouble if you could use flame alchemy. You'd leave everyone in the dust. There's got to be some fairness in the world." She gave him an unexpected giggle masked behind the covers. He'd tease her for it later. "Now get out of my bed before someone walks in."

"Yes, sir," she offered diligently.

There was a tiny pang from the depths of his stomach, a little sadness when she picked up the formalities again. He felt the bed sway as she turned away from him, lifting herself from his side and he sat up simultaneously.

Roy's head turned unwillingly, guided by a pair of hands to look in the direction Riza was just in. He felt her move closer, until finally he felt her kiss him on his forehead. "Thank you, Roy," she whispered to him. A smile erupted from his lips.

"Thank you, Riza."