(A/N:) Just a plot bunny that's been gnawing at my brain since I first became obsessed with FMA. Go Royai!

I don't own FMA.

It had been years.

Years since they had met. Years since he had learned the secrets of her dead father's research. Years since she had followed his path. Years since he had done the unthinkable - causing her pain - by her own request.

And, every day, they acted like none of it had ever happened. By some unspoken pact, they had agreed to put all of those events behind them.

But both of them could see the distress that the other was hiding under their calm, stony façade. Both of them worried about the other, sometimes not so secretly.

Because of the unspoken pact, though, they remained silent.

Until the day he decided to break it.

Colonel Roy Mustang felt like he was going to pass out.

Ten hours sitting at this damn desk, he thought in frustration. It took ten...straight... hours, but I finally got it all done.

He shot a withering glare at the stacks of paperwork perched on the corners of his desk, on the floor right next to his chair...and pretty much everywhere else, aside from the small space on the desk where his head was currently resting.

I need sleep. His thoughts were punctuated by a yawn. About a week's worth. That would be nice.

A sudden knock on the closed door of his office shook him out of his daze. He straightened up in his chair, flattening his mussed-up hair so it looked semi-professional, and cleared his throat. "Enter."

The door opened, sending a bright beam of light from the hallway piercing into the dimly lit room. Roy reached up and shielded his eyes with a grimace.

"Colonel, it's pitch black in here."

At the sound of the voice, Roy relaxed slightly, but only slightly. Even though the person's face was cast in shadow because of the glare of the lights, he could still tell who it was. "Lieutenant. It's nearly midnight. What are you still doing here?"

"It's been a late night for everyone, sir," First Lieutenant Riza Hawkeye replied. "Would you like me to turn a light on or something? You do have a lamp on your desk, you know."

Roy shook his head. "To be honest, Lieutenant, I hadn't noticed how dark it had gotten outside until I finished this paperwork."

"You were that focused on paperwork? That isn't like you, sir."

He could hear the smile in her voice. That's how it worked with her; she rarely smiled. One had to listen for the tiny hint of amusement in her voice. A tone like that was equivalent to one of Hughes' grins. He wasn't sure about how she was off duty - when she was Riza, not Lieutenant Hawkeye - but he assumed that it was pretty much the same.

Roy waved his hand in the air dismissively. "It is my duty, after all. If I want to have any hope of being promoted again, I've got to stop foisting it off on my subordinates."

Riza rubbed the back of her neck with her left hand and shifted her weight from leg to leg. "We're grateful for that, sir, even if it is somewhat uncharacteristic for you. I apologize, but I have to increase the workload a bit."

The colonel stared uncomprehendingly at Riza as she approached and tossed a bulging Manila envelope down on the desk where his head had previously been. The tape holding the flap closed had begun to come off because the envelope was so full of paper.

"More paperwork?" he said flatly.

Riza nodded and retreated a respectful distance away from the desk. "This just came in for you from the Führer. He wants them read through and signed ASAP."

Roy sighed and picked up the envelope. "What are they?"

"I don't know, sir. I'm not in the habit of looking through other people's mail." Her voice was neutral, with no detectable trace of spite nor humor. "I have nothing left to do, so if you don't need me for anything I'll head home. Hayate needs to be fed."

Roy nodded, and the lieutenant turned around and headed for the still-open door. Her steps were slow, unlike her characteristic quick and purposeful pace. Anyone else would have signed it off to the late hour and her exhaustion, but Roy knew better. He knew his lieutenant well. Something was bothering her, and if his guess was correct it had been bothering her for quite a while.

"Wait, Lieutenant," he called after her suddenly.

Riza stopped in her tracks about four steps from the door, but she didn't turn to face him. "Sir?"

"Close the door," he ordered, but his voice was not firm. In fact, it sounded more like he was unsure of himself. Riza seemed to share that uncertainty, her hand hesitant as she reached for the doorknob. She pulled the door closed, and both she and the colonel were plunged into near darkness. The only light, and it was dim at best, came from the thin crescent moon shining through the window. Roy reached forward and tugged the chain of his desk lamp, filling the room with a soft yellow glow.

"Is something wrong, Colonel?" she inquired, still refusing to turn around. She was almost afraid of what she would see in his face if she looked.

"I could ask you the same thing," he replied quietly. "Something's bothering you."

"That didn't sound like a question."

"It wasn't."

A brief moment of silence passed before Riza spoke. When she did, her tone was clipped and forced, and Roy didn't fail to pick up on this fact. "I'm fine. I just need to get some sleep."

Roy pushed his chair back and stood up behind his desk, planting his hands firmly on the paper-covered surface. "Lieutenant Hawkeye, do not lie to your superior."

"This isn't related to work," she retorted. "I am allowed to keep the details of my personal life secret if I so desire."

Roy's gaze fell from the back of her head to her back. Riza could feel his gaze burning into her, and she hated it. It made her feel even more uncomfortable, especially because he was the reason for her distress in the first place - that and the bane of her life, which both of them knew was inscribed on the blonde woman's back.

"It's got to do with the tattoo, doesn't it?" he shocked both of them by saying.

And thus the pact was broken.

Riza was so startled, she forgot about her unwillingness to lay eyes upon her colonel. She turned around quickly and fixed him with a burning stare. "How did you..."

"I've known you for years, Lieutenant," he answered. "I can tell when something is bothering you."

"As can I, Colonel," she replied, "and judging from the tone of your voice something is bothering you."

Roy wasn't surprised she had picked up on it; after all, she was the Hawk's Eye. He felt like this nearly every time she was close to him, the same emotion assaulting him and threatening to drag him down every single time she spoke: guilt. He loathed himself for what he had done to her. He thought about denying it, about throwing Riza's words about personal lives right back in her face, but he decided against it.

"Yes," he said simply. "Yes, there is."

"Something about me." She didn't phrase it as a question.

Roy nodded mutely, almost automatically. He didn't feel that it was appropriate to speak to her about such matters when they were on duty, but there were exceptions to every rule.

"Did I do something wrong, Colonel Mustang?"

Damn. She was reverting back to full professional mode, trying to cut herself off from the personal aspects of the conversation. That was the last thing he needed. "No, Riza, you didn't."

Riza blinked. Roy never called her by her first name. It was always "Lieutenant" or "Lieutenant Hawkeye" or even "First Lieutenant Riza Hawkeye" when he was pissed at her. Never just "Riza". Whatever was bothering him had to practically be eating him up from the inside for him to drop his 'workplace' attitude like that. "Then...then what-"

"I need to see it," he spat out suddenly. The unprecedented anger dripping from his voice was so harsh that Riza actually recoiled a bit. She had no way of knowing that the anger in his voice was not directed towards her, but towards himself.

"You...need to see what?" she said slowly, her tone measured and calm like she was talking to a spooked horse. Roy could hear the forced note in her voice, though, and he immediately cursed himself for snapping at his trusted lieutenant in such a manner.

"That..." he began, raising a finger and pointing in Riza's direction. "...that...thing...that abomination."

Unconsciously, Riza reached up again and rubbed the back of her neck, where the ink of her tattoo began. "Oh."

Roy could see her reluctance and confusion, and he rounded the desk towards her. "Please, Lieutenant...Riza..."

Again with her first name. Riza stood stock still as he approached, her back straighter than a plank, her brown eyes following his every move.

"I need to see," he whispered, the rage leaving his voice. He hadn't been angry at Riza in the first place; no, he had been angry at himself. "I need to remember what...what happened."

Riza searched his eyes, choosing her next words carefully. "You don't remember?"

"No, I remember," he growled, staring at his hands with utter distaste. "I just need to make absolute sure that I don't forget. I can't let myself forget."

The lieutenant cast an anxious glance to the door. "But...Colonel..."

"Please," he implored.

Riza bit her lip, seriously debating disobeying him. In the end, though, her respect for her superior won out, and she turned around. With hesitant fingers, she unfastened her military jacket and let it fall to the ground.

"Someone could come in," she tried pathetically one last time, hating how the words sounded in her mouth. "How do you think this would look to someone who doesn't know?"

"No one will come in without knocking," he assured her. His tone had practically turned begging. "I...Riza, I've been trying to forget it. I've been trying to forget what I did. I can't do that."

Riza dipped her head in acceptance. She understood exactly what he was going through, and not just about the events concerning the tattoo on her back.

Ishval.

The word still sent shivers up her spine. What she had done there, ordered so or not, would remain with her forever. She wanted nothing more than to forget that tragic war, but at the same time she couldn't bring herself to do so. She simply didn't want to forget all of the Ishvalans, many of them innocents, that she had shot, because the Ishvalans sure as hell weren't going to forget them for destroying their lives. It was made all the worse because she knew the faces of each and every one of her victims. She couldn't even pretend to miss a shot for two reasons. Reason number one: she couldn't let her feelings get in the way of her orders, no matter how vile and heartless those orders seemed to her. It wasn't like she walked into Ishval and asked to commit genocide. The second reason was that she was the military's most skilled sharpshooter, both with small arms and long-range rifles. She was the famous Hawk's Eye, for God's sake. She never missed. If, on the battlefield, she had begun missing on purpose, someone surely would have noticed and called into question her fitness for military duty. She couldn't risk being discharged. Not while she still had someone to protect.

Riza shook her head to dispel the painful memories and began to unbutton her shirt. She had vowed to follow him into hell, even after they had both been in the closest thing - the Ishvalan War of Extermination. From the way it seemed to her, Roy seemed to be in hell right then. Before, looking into his eyes, she had seen the turmoil his emotions were in. She was positive that the tattoo and scars on her body weren't the sole cause of his distress, especially being that they had been in Ishval when the burning had taken place. It was Roy's way of coping, and his methods were much like her own. He couldn't let himself forget. They couldn't let themselves forget. Not a single thing.

Riza shrugged off her shirt. The rough cotton garment slid down her lean frame and crumpled at her feet. She heard Roy take a strangled breath, and she inwardly winced. She knew full well that, despite her bra being in the way, he could see the majority of the flame alchemy tattoo and the burn scars that had destroyed the research there. Her skin prickled under his gaze as she reached behind her and unclasped her bra, letting it slide off her shoulders and drop down with the rest of her removed clothes. Her arms immediately crossed in front of her to hide her breasts, and her chin dropped to touch her chest. That tattoo had ruined her. She hadn't even been asked about the matter before suddenly...it had just happened.

"Take off your shirt, Riza."

Fifteen year-old Riza Hawkeye furrowed her brow as she stared quizzically at her father, who was sitting calm as ever behind the desk in his cluttered study. "Father?"

"You heard me. Take it off, and quickly."

Riza shook her head in confusion. "Father, I don't understand."

"You don't need to understand." Berthold Hawkeye stood up and opened a drawer in his desk, rummaging around until he found what he was looking for - a black box about the size of his daughter's head. "Now do as I told you. When you are done, lay down on the floor with your back to the ceiling."

Riza had absolutely no desire to expose her body to her father, surprisingly enough, but she knew how he could get if she refused to give him his way. He wasn't abusive, per se, but he certainly wasn't afraid to show her a firm hand and a loud voice when she disobeyed him. Reluctantly, she turned away from her father and pulled her wrinkled white shirt up over her head, tossing it away from her.

"Lie down," came the sharp command from behind.

Riza bit her lip as she lowered her body to the freezing cold wooden floor. Surely it was taboo for a father to see his teenage daughter in such a manner? Surely it was wrong for him to lay eyes on her naked torso with the same air of casualness as if he had been looking at fruits at the market?

She heard footsteps approaching her, and a moment later her father knelt down beside her. The box was set down next to her head. He removed the lid of the box and took something out, turning it over in his hands. Riza couldn't make out exactly what it was; all she saw from her angle was a reflected glint of candlelight off of metal.

"Father, I don't understand," she repeated, hoping to get some form of explanation to why she was lying half-naked on the floor of the study.

Berthold fished a piece of paper out of his pocket and unfolded it, setting it on the ground next to the box. Riza could see a portion of this, but to her it was nothing more than a few shapes and words written in an old script.

"Riza, you need to learn when to bite your tongue," he said firmly, removing something else from the box. This Riza saw a little more clearly, even though she couldn't move her head much without lifting it from the ground against her father's orders. It looked to be a bottle full of something black, and it was quickly followed by another metallic glint, this one considerably smaller than the first.

"Learn when to bite your tongue," he repeated, uncapping the bottle and dipping one of the metal things into it. "But if you bite it now, you may well bite it off."

Riza barely had time to wonder what he meant by that before a sharp pain stabbed through her back, right in between her shoulder blades. She gasped in pain and surprise, raising her head up to try and see what was happening.

"Down!" Berthold barked, and Riza dropped her head to the cold wood again.

What is he doing to me? she thought, biting her lip again. Why is he hurting me?

After that, it became worse. The stabs of pain were in quick succession of each other, so there was no blissful break in between. It was all Riza could do not to scream. Her fists were balled so tightly that they had turned white, but she hardly cared. She just tried to focus on keeping her lips tightly pressed together.

It took almost ten minutes for her to finally realize what he was doing. That strange design on the worn paper next to her...he was tattooing it onto her back.

Berthold set the object in his hand down next to the box and picked up the larger metal one. For a second, it was in Riza's view, and she felt her stomach plummet. It was a knife - not a big one exactly, but it was by no means tiny. He tried to dip it into the bottle of what Riza guessed to be ink, but the blade was too wide for the neck of the vessel. He tilted the bottle so a few drops of ink fell to the blade, and with his finger he smeared them so the metal was coated with the thick liquid.

Oh, God, Riza prayed, her eyes shut tight. Please don't let him do this... Tears were leaking from her eyes as it was. She didn't know if she would be able to handle the tip of a knife carving symbols into her back and staining them with ink.

When the metal dug into her flesh, it was merciless. Riza couldn't hold it in any longer. She screamed, her eyes snapping open and her back arching into the air. She didn't care that, by raising her body from the floor, her entire torso was bared for her father to see. The pain blocked out all sensible thoughts in her brain and replaced them with the single, overpowering desire to cry out in agony. And so she continued to do. The tears were streaming freely down her face now, and she made no effort to swallow her pleas and screams.

"Please," she begged through her sobs, her entire body shaking. "Make it stop! Just please stop hurting me!"

Berthold turned a deaf ear on his daughter's distraught plea, simply continuing with his task like he wasn't the one causing his only daughter to writhe on the floor in pain. He had detached himself entirely from his actions; either that, or he really just didn't care about her. Neither option appealed to the teenager.

The torture went on for a good hour, or so Riza guessed. She wasn't sure how long she had lain there, allowing herself to be carved up like a piece of wood. Time had blurred into one big haze of agony and despair, sending her to the brink of passing out. All she realized was that, when the world came back into focus, her father was gone, along with the black box and the piece of paper. The only light came from the moon, streaming through the window and pooling directly on Riza's naked torso. A pillow rested on the floor a few feet from her head. The girl tried to lift her arm to reach for it, but she didn't have the energy to move it far enough. She was utterly exhausted, and her back still burned like fire. She didn't even have the strength to curl up for warmth. She simply remained there on the floor and cried herself to sleep, laying alone in a pool of her own blood and tears for the rest of the night.

Riza was shocked out of her stupor when she felt cold fingers touching her back. She shivered at the contact. The last person to touch her back, other than herself, had been her father on the night of the tattooing. Remaining a virgin, even in her late twenties, had ensured that no one else would see or touch the markings. Even when she had showed Roy the design for the first time, she hadn't allowed him to touch her. Now, feeling foreign fingers upon her skin once again, she felt as if she would be forced to relive that night over and over again in her mind's eye.

"Damn it all," Roy whispered, his fingers tracing the burn scars that obscured a fair bit of the tattoo. "Riza, I-"

"Colonel, if you dare to say that you're sorry," Riza interrupted threateningly, "with all due respect, sir, you had better shut the hell up right now."

Roy sighed and began to follow the path of the original tattoo over the scars, his other hand moving to rest on her shoulder. "It all looks...so painful. How did you make it through?"

"Which time?" Riza asked in all seriousness.

"Both."

The lieutenant fell silent for a minute or so, trying to figure out how to put her thoughts into words that wouldn't make her superior feel even worse.

"I'm not going to lie and say it didn't hurt that much either time," she said finally. "You told me not to lie to you. It was...it was agonizing. I felt like I was going to die."

She felt Roy's grip tighten significantly on her shoulder. "Oh God..."

"But Colonel," she put in hastily, cursing herself for making him react like this, "the times were so different. Yes, they both hurt like hell - worse than hell, actually - but after you had burned me, you stayed with me. You cleaned my wounds and bandaged me while I was unconscious. You didn't leave me until I was healed."

Roy's finger stopped tracing the ink on her back. "You say that like your father didn't do the same."

"He didn't. He just left me on the floor for the rest of the night, all bloody. I couldn't move."

Roy winced at the composed way that Riza recounted the experience. He didn't think he could read about it in the newspaper without bursting a vessel, let alone actually live through it.

"That bastard," he whispered. "Riza, I'm so sor-"

"Shut up," she warned.

Roy pressed his lips together tightly so they formed a taut little line. He could tell from her voice that she was prepared to shut him up herself if he said that word, but it still didn't stop him from feeling unmeasurably guilty for her pain - both the pain she had been in from the tattooing, and the pain that he himself had caused her.

"I told you, I'm sure," she said testily.

Roy hesitated, casting yet another glance at the tent flaps. "But if someone hears-"

"I've told them to approach my tent under no circumstances," Riza interrupted. She laid her head back on the pillow and reached for the strap of leather resting in the edge of the cot. "Sir, please just do it."

"I can't hurt you," he protested. "I can't hurt one of my own men."

"I'm a woman," she pointed out with a touch of humor. "A woman who is asking you to do this for the greater good."

Roy closed his eyes briefly and shook his head. "You know, I thought that all this pain would end along with the war."

"We're still in Ishval," came the reply. "Pain is part of the air here. You're a State Alchemist, and I'm a sniper. We need to get used to the pain we cause others." She took the leather in between her teeth and spoke around it. "Do it."

Roy lifted his right hand and prepared to snap, but he hesitated. The woman lying facedown on the cot before him looked so vulnerable and bare, with the tattoo on her back serving only to mar and disfigure her. He almost couldn't bring himself to do it.

"Mustang!" Riza snapped through her teeth, pushing to the side the fact that he was her superior. "For God's sake, do it before I lose my nerve!"

Roy took a deep breath to steel his nerves and, before he could come up with yet another reason to put off the action, snapped. Flames rippled through the air from his fingers and caught Riza's back. The scent of burnt flesh quickly filled the tent. Roy bit his lip so hard that he drew blood at the sight of her skin turning black and peeling away, revealing raw bloodiness underneath.

"Don't you dare quit now," Riza managed to get out, sensing his hesitation. Her fists balled tightly, gripping the blanket under her.

Roy snapped his fingers again and again at her hissed command, sending flames dancing across her back and searing her skin away. With every burst of fire, Roy flinched. He imagined that it was probably all she could not to cry out. He thought Riza would be able to hold it in until the end, but he was proven horribly wrong. The woman finally screamed, writhing on the cot, the leather strap falling from her mouth in two pieces; she had bitten clean through it. Her body was wracked with agonized sobs, and tears streamed from under her tightly closed eyelids. Roy felt tears well up in his own eyes, and his hand dropped to his side. He couldn't bear to hurt one of his own.

As the remainder of the flames flickered out, Riza fell silent. Her body went completely limp on the cot. The sudden lack of sound or movement, combined with the oppressive smell of her burnt flesh and the infamous Ishvalan heat, threatened to suffocate Roy with fear and guilt. But he couldn't leave her to go outside. Not yet.

The alchemist knelt down beside Riza's head worriedly. Her head was turned to the side, her eyes closed and her lips parted. He leant forward and placed his ear to her mouth, and only when he heard the faint rush of air did he draw back in halfhearted relief.

"Hawkeye?" he whispered.

The woman didn't reply.

She passed out from the pain, Roy thought in disgust. What have I done?

He peeled off his gloves and stuffed them into his pocket before he reached down to a makeshift first aid box set beside the cot and removed a clean rag from it, dampening it with some precious water from his canteen. He began to gently clean the blood and flakes of charred skin from the sniper's body. Riza moaned quietly, but she didn't awaken, which was probably best at this point.

"How could I have done this?" he muttered to himself as he cleaned the damage that had been done with his own to hands. "What kind of monster am I?"

He set the bloodied rag down on his knee, not caring about germs or stains or anything of the like, and picked up a roll of gauze bandages from the kit. As he reached for her again, though, he hesitated. From the waist up, she was naked. Would she want him to...to see...

No matter, he decided firmly. She's injured.

He grasped her unburned shoulders and lifted her torso slightly, just enough so he could turn her over without anything touching the burn wounds on her back. Once she was face up, he pulled her into a sitting position and kept her upright with an arm across the very tops of her shoulders. Her head fell back, as she was unable to support it in her unconscious state. He dropped the gauze and exchanged it for the rag once again when he saw that a fair amount of blood had trickled down over her sides and onto her front. After only a second's hesitation, he brought the rag down to her chest and cleaned the blood away. He tried to ignore the fact that he was touching - no, rubbing - her bare breasts, albeit through a cloth, but he couldn't deny the fact that he felt uncomfortable with it. As quickly as he could, he finished and flung the rag halfway across the tent like it was toxic.

He picked up the bandages again and began wrapping them around her torso, making sure they were taut but not constricting. If they were loose, after all, they would move around and rub against the wound. Only when Riza gave her consent would he allow himself to rebandage her more loosely. As it was, he could barely bring himself to touch her, knowing that he had inflicted such wounds upon her.

When he had finished, he laid Riza back down on her stomach and wiped his hands on his sand-colored cloak, leaving scarlet streaks. He wouldn't let himself leave her side. Not until she was healed. Even though it troubled him every time he touched her with his own hands, he took hers in between his own and stroked it soothingly.

"I'll make your pain go away, Hawkeye," he vowed the blonde woman. "I'll atone for this."

"I blame myself," he breathed, so quietly that he could barely hear himself.

"You what, Colonel Roy Mustang?" Apparently Riza had the ears of a hawk as well as the eyes. "I could have sworn that I heard you say that you blamed yourself. But that can't be what you said."

"Look at you!" Roy shot back indignantly. "I hurt you, Riza. I hurt one of my own. I've never been able to get past it."

"I asked you to do it," she pointed out, glancing back over her shoulder at him. "It was for the greater good."

Roy remembered the last time she had said those words to him, in the tent before the burning, and he dropped his hands from her body. "Hurting you...hearing you scream...making you bleed...I have nightmares about it."

Without thinking, Riza turned around and, with one arm still shielding her chest, placed a hand on Roy's shoulder. "You listen to me, Colonel. You wanted to know what was bothering me earlier, right? Well, it's this. I was scared to death because I knew that you blamed yourself for what I asked you to do. None of it was your fault."

Roy seemed the tiniest bit startled by her sudden turnabout, even though she was still covering herself. "You tell me that constantly. I know it's true, but I can never shake the feeling of having your blood on my hands." He glanced at his hands, clad in his white flame alchemy gloves, and sighed. "Literally."

Riza's hand tightened on his shoulder, much like his had done to her before. "Roy, I told you to listen to me. You saved lives. If anyone else had gotten hold of the research of flame alchemy, so many more could have died, and not just in Ishval. You and I are the only ones who know the secrets of this alchemy, and thank God we're on the side of light."

Roy blinked, once again slightly startled for two reasons: one, her use of his first name; and two, the rest of what she had said. "You know flame alchemy?"

She nodded.

"How?"

"My father researched it tirelessly and tattooed it onto my back," she replied. "Anyone would learn something if it were branded on them forever. I wasn't very good though, mind you."

"You've never used it in front of me."

"Oh, I've used it. It's just been a long time - since before my father died. Since before I met you. I've never considered myself to be an alchemist, because of what I heard about them."

"What?"

She lowered her gaze to Roy's boots. "Father used to play the radio during emergencies. He made me listen to it to toughen me up. I heard so many things about how destructive alchemists were, I gave up on it. I stopped staring at my back in the mirror every night. I stopped learning alchemy so I wouldn't end up killing people." She let out a dry, humorless laugh. "Hell of a lot of good that did me in that respect."

"It's our job," Roy said quietly. "Like it or not, we do what we're told to do unless we want out."

She managed a smile. "I don't want out. I swore to protect you all the way to the top."

"And I will protect all those under me, and they will protect all those under them," he murmured, half to himself. "I really am sorry, Riza."

"I thought I told you to shut up."

Roy let out a soft, short laugh, but then sobered. "I am, though. Especially just for tonight. I...I just couldn't let myself forget."

"I'm not sorry." Riza's hand moved to his cheek almost of its own accord. "I think tonight helped both of us. I can see it in your eyes. You feel like some of the burden has been taken off you."

Roy's gaze flicked down to her hand before returning to her prismatic brown eyes, which were now looking straight into his with all the light of the moon reflected in them. "I guess so."

They remained like that for a moment, staring into each other's eyes, before Riza did something that surprised both of them. She stepped closer and, without taking her hand away from his cheek, kissed him. It was a brief kiss, an innocent lip-to-lip kiss made not -so-innocent by Riza's topless state. Nevertheless, both Roy and Riza felt something pass between them at the contact, something that had been hiding underneath repressed feelings and memories for almost as long as they had known each other.

When Riza drew away, a furious scarlet blush adorned her sharp, pretty features, and her gaze was fixed on the floor. Roy quickly shook off the shock at the gesture and, without really thinking, closed the distance between them again and rested his chin on top of her head. His strong arms folded around her warm skin and pulled her in a close embrace. She hesitated for a few seconds and suddenly realized that, at this angle, he wouldn't be able to see anything. She slowly uncovered her chest so she could wrap both of her arms tightly around him. For the first time, he didn't feel uncomfortable with her naked torso touching him. It felt so right to have her in his arms. For a moment, they were no longer colonel and lieutenant, no longer superior and subordinate. They were man and woman, Roy and Riza, who had shared more pain than seemed humanly possible and had still managed to pull through and thrive.

They didn't know how long they stayed in their embrace. Honestly, neither of them cared; they just wanted to stay there forever. However, it was once again Riza who broke the contact, stepping away and covering herself again.

"I really should be getting back to feed Hayate," she murmured, kneeling to retrieve her clothes.

Roy respectfully turned around, and a second later he heard the telltale rustling of clothes being donned behind him. When the sounds ceased, he swiveled round again, going slowly and waiting for any warning. When none came, he turned completely to face her. She was standing there, once again in her military uniform, looking for all the world like nothing had happened.

Except for the splashes of crimson that still tinted her cheeks.

"Good night, sir," she said quietly, nodding respectfully. She wanted to make it clear that there would be no funny business when the uniform was on.

Roy, however, didn't give a damn. He stepped close to his lieutenant, cupped her face with both hands, and kissed her deeply and slowly. He felt a protest forming on her soft lips, but he swiped his tongue along her lower lip and the nonexistent words faded away. He felt her respond, hesitantly at first, but then with considerably more fervor, her hands snaking up and weaving themselves into his midnight locks.

Once the lack of air actually became an issue, the two broke apart with a simultaneous gasp. Both were flushed and breathing heavily, their chests heaving in unison.

"Good night," Riza repeated, still trying to catch her breath, "Roy."

Roy smiled at the alteration of her previous sentence. He pressed a brief kiss to the tip of her nose and then released her, staring into the eyes that now held so much more than strict workplace etiquette and painful memories. "Good night, Riza. Say hello to Hayate for me."

Riza nodded and, with a shy smile - such an un-Riza-like action on its own - retreated from the room.

Roy remained standing there for the next ten minutes or so, staring at the closed door long after the woman on the other side of it had gone. Finally he shook his head and rounded his desk to his chair, aiming to finish the new load of paperwork as quickly as possible. He pulled the sheaf of papers from the envelope, grabbed a pen, and started reading them. He would bring his pen down to the paper and scrawl something that looked vaguely like an R and an M wherever a signature was required, but other than that he wasn't quite focused on his work. All he could see in his mind's eye was a beautiful blonde woman with a shy smile on her face that she still managed to make look so radiant.

A small smile graced Roy Mustang's lips as he skimmed the documents. First Lieutenant Riza Hawkeye, the Hawk's Eye herself, had done the impossible. She had convinced him that her pain wasn't his fault. She had opened up to him. She had revealed a side of herself that was rarely seen by anybody. He knew full well that he would never forget what had just happened. That night would remain in a special place in his memories alongside Ishval, preserved forever.

He couldn't forget.

He didn't want to forget.

I can't forget.