Every morning, she woke up early to go and work for a man who wasn't him. Every morning, she would slip away from his embrace like a whisper, feed Black Hayate in the kitchen and go to take her shower, and it was usually the sounds of protest from the pipes that jolted him from his slumber. She would return about ten minutes later, wrapped loosely in a towel (or a robe in the colder weather) and sit on the edge of the bed, tug on her plain cotton underwear and towel at her hair, moving slowly the whole time, acutely aware of his gaze.
He reached out and ran the back of his index finger down her spine; she does not jump nor seem surprised by the action but her body still responds, gooseflesh rising along the arc of her spine and nipples hardening as Roy ran his hand along her skin. Riza moved away, began to cover pale skin flushed pink by the formal blue of the Military.
"He's keeping me late again," Riza stated, twisting her hair up behind her head and clipping it back sharply, the sound of the metal and plastic snapping making Roy jump.
"I expected as much," he replied, after a moment's hesitation. She glanced at him nonchalantly, the white sheets creased and stained around his pale hips, dark eyes looking pale compared to the sunken, black rings around them.
"I'll wait for you."
She nodded sharply, moved to stand beside the bed. He reached up to touch her but hesitated, wanting soft pink, not rough blue. She sighed and moved towards the front door, ready to leave.
"You'd better start getting ready soon, Roy."
And with that, she was gone.
They passed each other in the hall that day; she, carrying a multitude of files to give to her new superior and he carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders. They pass each other, but make no eye contact and he felt like wincing; physically, she stood barely a foot away but emotionally he felt as though she was miles away. A small piece of scrunched white paper hit the toe of his boot and he bent to retrieve it, unfurling it discretely against the rough white cloth covering his right palm.
The Major believes that you will soon be sent to escort a beautiful lady in the North.
Gritting his teeth, Roy closed his fist tightly around the paper and shoved that fist into the pocket of his uniform with his sense of supreme injustice. It seemed that it would only be a matter of time until they were entirely apart.
Their faith was what made him continue, what allowed him to go on. Their faith would never be fractured, but it could be stretched, could be blocked and caged away.
Havoc, Breda, Fuery, Farman and Hawkeye. He was losing all too fast for his liking, but this time it was he who would be going against his own will.
Away from her.
That afternoon he arrived home long before she did, much to the delight of Hayate who was obviously famished after the nine-hour gap between his meals. He tossed the regular mixture of offal and leftover bones into the dog bowl and set it on the ground, idly scratching the pup's ears when he placed the bowl on the ground.
She had been left in his charge. She had never been asked to believe in him. Until he had met her grandfather, he had thought that he was all that she had left.
"I'm leaving her to you, Roy..."
Thin red lines on her back, etched into his memory, her father's secret, her father's power... And her, uncertainly unbuttoning her blouse, looking at him with eyes that were so filled with hope, and love, and life, and trust. But still, her fingers fumbled on the buttons. He chucked lightly, moved over to her and tugged her into his embrace with her back pressed against his chest and fingers that moved swiftly to discard her top. "Roy?" "Hmm?" Warm fingertips gliding at a steady pace across her bare skin. "I trust you." A sharp intake of breath as he dipped his thumb under the top of her plain black skirt. He halted, and she froze. "What's wrong?" Roy shook his head, his chin ruffling her short blonde hair. "So long as you trust me."
Roy gave Black Hayate's ears one last playful tug, and went to strip out of the formal blue that bound them both.
That night when she entered her apartment he was waiting for, just as he said he would be. Roy left his seat and pressed her against the front door, and found that kissing her was just like being reborn. It was easier to forget than to muse over every problem and conflict and worry, so it was easier just to kiss her, remember it like it was the first time and watch the now scarred tattoo on her back distort on her skin as she bent over to unlace her boots in the middle of the kitchen, on the way to the bedroom.
Skin prickled under her touch as she reached up to meet him as he was poised over her, and he found himself falling, then found himself caught as she rose up to meet him and drew her tongue across his lips. Too much, too long. Every minute without her by his side was too long and seemed like a lifetime, but now that could be forgotten as he felt her arms wrap around him, pull him close and hold him in her safe embrace. It was another life, a separate world with her.
Once their passion was sated for the moment, she moved like silk from his embrace and towards the door.
"I've already fed him, if that's where you're going."
She paused, regarded him over her shoulder and leaned against the doorframe, bare skin pale in the moonlight.
"Thank you."
"Come back, Riza. Please."
She nodded slowly, noticing the brief flare of desperation in his dark eyes, and walked back over to the bed.
"Yes, Sir."
He grunted bitterly.
"Not Sir anymore."
"You're still the one that holds my trust, Roy. Regardless of circumstances."
Roy nodded, pulled her closer with one arm and pressed a kiss to her neck. For now, that would have to be enough.
END