Well then, second Royai piece.

You know the drill. Enjoy.

Midori Fujiwara

"No," I told him over the phone. "I have no vases."

But a knock on my door, and a swish of air later, there he was in front of my door, adorned with a vase and petals, and water spills.

"Here," and he shoved everything into my face.

I declined his gift of 'love'—messy flowers, really—and insisted that he give it to one of the other women with Madam Christmas. "They'd enjoy it more. And you never know what connections you'll need," I added.

He gave me a face that read something along of the lines of 'I don't give a shit, you're getting the roses.' Stubbornly as ever, he knocked over the few things on my table just to place the heavy vase down. "Hah!" he said, dusting his hands together in his accomplishment.

I gave him a hard glare. Those flowers were not welcome in my humble abode.

He brushed off the threat, turning back to the door, and raising his right hand in a wave goodbye. "Don't worry! I'll only love you until those roses die." He looked back to glance at my face for a second, found nothing, and stepped out, closing the door behind him.

I wasn't sure if he was being serious, but blew the thought off, and made sure the flowers didn't get in the way of my walking space. I hated thorns in my sweater, and getting stuck to me on the way in or out of the house. And I didn't like how the petals and leaves littered my floor.

Besides, roses don't even smell that great anyway. Flowers are overrated.

-XIII-

"Oh, god…" I muttered to myself when the sleeve of my black turtleneck took a flower along with it for a ride as I passed by to get to the door for work in the morning. I plucked the crap off and stuffed it back into the vase. The flowers were looking as fakely cheery as possible, and their 'morning glory' bothered me.

So that was the weird smell coming from the living room this morning. Even Hayate sneezed.

And I got to work in the morning, earlier than everyone else of course. But I rather liked the mornings to myself. My mind was clear, I had some time of my own before instant cluttering and coagulation that would ensue once Mustang and the rest of his lazy crew got to work—rather sitting.

"Good morning, Colonel," I said when I heard him come in, not looking up. It had to be him. Who else would walk in with such a sleep-drunken gait?

"Hi," he replied stiffly. But after a good twenty minutes of napping on his desk and stretching in his chair, he added, "You put everyone to shame." He eyed his stack of paperwork, piled on top of unfinished cases from the day before. Then he closed his eyes into reverie again.

"Sir," I said.

"Good night, lieutenant."

"Sir…Sir….Sir!"

But it was a lost cause.

I made a mental note to kick him later.

He later suggested, after waking up, that I do the paperwork for him.

Hah, my ass.

"Lieutenant, you're so diligent, you should just finish up the rest of these," he said, and leaned back in his chair, hands behind his head.

"Think of it as practice before becoming Fuhrer, sir," I reasoned. "We all don't need any useless presidents taking up space here."

His face turned into an expression I recognized as a groan.

-XIII-

He waited for me while I attempted to finish a call with Rebecca. She was so talkative.

"And I told you how annoyed I was at him right? I mean, he's a nice guy and all but I just can't stand him! You know how I can tolerate almost everyone, but I don't know there's just a limit that I have! I have never met a person I have disliked more! And it's not that he's a bad person; I just don't like him! He's so arrogant and all, and I think he's trying to flirt with me or something. God, I don't want to see his face anymore! But, aw man, that's so mean to see isn't it?" she rambled.

"Right," I said.

"What do you think, Riza?"

"Well, obviously he's annoying you. I think you should just try to avoid him as much as possible."

"Yes…but he like stalks me or something! And I have to work with him for at least eight hours a day because it's my job! He's just a coworker I have to deal with!"

I looked over at Mustang, who was patiently waiting for my call to finish. I rolled my eyes. He smiled back.

"Well, I don't know," I said, interrupting her. "Try switching departments or something."

Her voice paused on the other side. "I think you're trying to get off the phone with me. Busy?"

"Lunch," I said simply.

"Ohhh…" and I could hear her eyebrows waggling. "I'm not going to stop you from spending good time with your man."

I couldn't protest, otherwise he'd know I was talking about him. So I hoped my silence was deadly enough.

"Have fun, Riza! And tell me everything that happens!"

I sighed and put down the receiver.

"What'd you guys talk about?" he asked as we went down the hallway.

"Nothing really. Some guy she was annoyed with."

"God, Hughes cannot stop talking about his daughter. He doesn't get the idea that I get that she's cute. And you know, I think I see more pictures of his wife than I do of him all the time, it's not a good sign," Mustang rambled while he picked at his food.

I smiled.

But Mustang was ever so sharp. He knew the difference between my normal silence…and perhaps a different silence.

"What's wrong," he asked, in a statement. "Ishvalan?"

He hit it exactly. I had been having nightmares of the children for the past two nights, and unable to sleep after waking myself up in the horror.

He gave me a grim smile.

-XIII-

He finished his work for the day, deciding to procrastinate whatever he didn't need to do for tomorrow, despite me trying to tell him to do it all now. I personally wasn't finished sorting out the files, though I was getting slightly ahead in my work. He eventually persuaded me to end work for the day. I believe he was planning to walk me home or something. It wasn't uncommon for him, but it wasn't typical either, and I attributed his actions to my nightmares.

But he made an unexpected turn in my usual direction home, and told me to follow after him, taking me into a small gift shop. It seems he knew exactly what he wanted, and purchased a clip barrette.

"This is for you, okay?" he said, as he passed the money over the counter and started to walk to the store exit. I held the clip barrette in my hand as we walked the rest of the way to my apartment. It was beautiful: silver, simply four lines coming in at a curve to cross with another four lines that curved the opposite direction.

It almost reminded me of a bird taking flight.

-XIII-

Hayate greeted both of us as we walked in the door, licking our hands senseless.

He took a look at the flowers in the vase, noticing that I hadn't touched it since he placed it on the table.

"Geez, Lieutenant, you could at least freshen their water," he said.

"They'll die anyway," I replied.

He smiled, and then leaned back against the wall. "I want you to try the barrette."

I turned back to face him. "Thank you." And I went into the bathroom to fix my hair, only find out that he hung in at the bathroom doorway to witness my hair fall and get sent back into a clip. I turned back and smiled at him, which he returned without a moment's pause.

"Cool. Sleep well, Lieutenant," he said, and he started to walk out of my apartment, waving goodbye without looking back.

"Night, Colonel," I replied before the door shut.

-XIII-

This time I didn't give myself the chance to even see the kid's face. The one I shot down.

I woke up in tears, heat flushed over my face, muscles tense, nerves wrecked.

Into the bathroom I went, washed my face with cold water. Let the water run for a long time while I was still recovering from the vividness. Haunting, cold, suffocating. My eyes were not bloodshot, but they felt pressured and my head about to explode. I stifled a groan, and my legs buckled and gave me. I felt no pain even though my tailbone hit the bathroom tiles with a thud that vibrated through my body. I placed my face into my hands. I didn't mean to give out a whimper, but my voice acted on its own accord.

It would be another one of those nights. I had thought that I had gotten over my stress of the civil war, but I was proved wrong time and again. Tonight would be one of those alleged nights.

I forced myself back up again, and headed toward my bed where I would attempt to fall asleep. But being in a comfortable bed and under soft sheets felt too wrong. The boy I buried did not rest in peace like this, under a foot of dirt and rocks digging into his cold dead skin. The pleasures in my life, I wanted to reject. There was never a moment when I was more disgusted with my life.

I told myself to stop thinking that way. I had to get back to sleep. But my guilty conscience told me that it was just an excuse, and that I wasn't repenting for what I had done. I was being ignorant, taking things for granted, living above others when really I was nothing but the same scum.

Stop it, I demanded of myself. Just go to sleep.

The cycle of self-hatred began again. I couldn't contain it and go to sleep at the same time.

I wanted to cry. I wanted to be rid of the nightmares. I wanted to be rid of the past. But I couldn't because what I had done, I had done, and inevitably would have to take the consequences for them. I wanted to be rid of the conflicting voices within my head, but I needed to understand that I had to pay for the responsibilities of being a soldier.

I needed someone, I realized. Being alone wasn't killing me, but at this point, containing what I felt wasn't working either.

I dialed him, in the dead middle of night.

He picked up. "Lieutenant?"

And I found that I could not talk, my throat was paralyzed. I didn't want to talk about my feelings. I just needed to know that someone was there. I needed to feel the company of someone, be it in silence or not. I cleared my throat, but intended to say nothing.

I think he understood. He said nothing for the rest of the night, and stayed on the phone the entire time.

Review please? I'd like to get a sense of how I'm writing. :) Thanks for reading!

Midori Fujiwara