Disclaimer: I do not own Fullmetal Alchemist, Riza Hawkeye, or Roy Mustang. I am not profiting at all by writing this story

Taking Care

By Starzki

-x-

When Riza woke up, she knew that the worst was over.

Everything hurt: her joints, her head, and the muscles in her neck and back - to name the major categories. The muscle pain, though, was easily explained by the fact that she'd slept the night hunched over on her kitchen table. Everything else was easily explained by the fact that she was suffering from the worst flu in her life.

Riza heard a pounding. It must have been what had awoken her. She concentrated on the sound as best as her fever-addled mind would allow. She was getting used to hearing strange things. The night before, she had wondered at the bleating of a car horn sounding over and over again until she had realized it was her own pulse, roaring at an alarming rate in her ears.

When she felt that thready racing of her heart, Riza realized that influenza was how a good number of people died; how a few people were, indeed, dying all around East City with this new outbreak. She had been fearful the night before. But now, with her heart beating hard, but steadily, she only felt sick and miserable.

The pounding noise stopped abruptly. Riza then understood that the noise was something outside of her own weakened physiology.

Riza heard the snick of the lock at her front door and immediately knew who was there. She had given only one person her emergency key. Roy Mustang. Riza was surprised that he was up and about. With his usual eye turned toward the future, he had been one of the first to fall to the epidemic in East City.

Roy eased himself into Riza's apartment and looked around wildly for a moment before his eyes settled on her. Though sick, Riza's eyes still didn't miss a thing about Colonel Mustang. He'd dressed in his uniform, but it was rumpled and not quite buttoned correctly. In his hands were two brown bags, one heavy, one light. His eyes had gone from alarm to relief on seeing her at her table, but he retained a sickly pallor of too-pale skin and dark circles like bruises under his eyes. He was up and about, but anyone could see he was still very sick.

"There you are, Lieutenant," he said gruffly. Riza gave a little wave with her fingertips off of the table, but didn't move otherwise. She was afraid her neck would cramp up and spasm if she moved too quickly. Riza didn't know why, but the sudden appearance of Colonel Mustang in her apartment uninvited made her irritated.

Roy stared at her, then looked at her kitchen, seemingly indecisive. Then he spun on his heel and ran the water in her sink. As she winced at the clanging of pots and kettles, Riza gradually worked her head off of her table so that she could sit up straight. She felt dizzy and her annoyance only grew. Her head was indescribably heavy and she felt grimy from the previous night's cold sweats. But a part of her felt that when her colonel was being of use, she should as well, so she had to pull herself together.

The act of sitting up straight was exhausting, though, so she briefly rested with her head in her hands, willing the rest of her to get moving. Everything hurt. She was congested and her head was thick and heavy. But she wasn't in danger of dying, so she just wished that Mustang would leave her be for a while and let her make her own tea.

Reading her mind, Roy said, "Stay where you are. I'm perfectly capable of boiling water without your help." The whistle of the kettle confirmed this, though its sound was like an ice pick in Riza's ear.

Riza opened her mouth to protest, but her raw throat wouldn't even let out the faintest of whispers.

Roy came to the table with a glass of water and one of the bags, the smaller one. He pulled out a couple of pill bottles and began shaking out their contents.

"They were almost out," explained Roy. "I had to bribe the guy to get the emergency stuff out of the back."

"I don't want it," said Riza, her voice two octaves below her normal tone.

"You're taking them, that's an order."

Riza knew she should take them. She knew they would help her feel better. But it was the fact that she felt so poorly that wasn't allowing her to own up to her current weakened state. She knew she was being stubborn and irrational, but it felt like her only option.

She stared at the pills sourly. Roy sighed, then got up and went back to the kitchen. He returned moments later with a steaming cup of tea that he set under her chin. It smelled strange and Riza wrinkled her nose at it, though her throat was crying out for the warm, soothing liquid.

"It's from the corner store on my street. They swear by it. And no one in the family that runs that store has fallen sick, so there must be something to it. They also sent some soup." Roy motioned back to Riza's kitchen. "I'll make some later."

Riza cupped her hands around the mug, absorbing the heat into her frozen fingers. She had come to the kitchen table the night before to be closer to the radiator that was doing a fairly terrible job of keeping the bitter, winter chill from invading her apartment.

Roy gave Riza a long look as she just held the mug. He looked so tired and frail, barely capable of walking around. She could only guess how awful she looked. Roy finally sighed and stood up from the table.

Riza avoided her reflection in the surface of the tea and brought it to her mouth as she listened to Roys footsteps take him into her bathroom. She only took her first sip when she heard the bathtub running. The tea tasted minty and bitter. It sorely needed honey, but she knew she didn't have any in the apartment. It did feel wonderful on her throat, though, and she followed the first sip with another.

The mint cleared her sinuses to a small, but palpable degree. After five minutes, she was able to drain the cup and appreciate the warmth of the tea in her belly, spreading a comforting feeling through her extremities. Her dark mood lightened a notch and she was no longer quite as annoyed that Roy Mustang had shown up at her door.

"Come on, then, Lieutenant," he said, standing behind her.

"Hmm?" she asked.

"It'll make you feel better." He didn't elaborate.

She stood and was proud she didn't sway. She wasn't nearly as dizzy as she had been, but Roy still reached out and gripped her elbow and helped her shuffle to the bathroom. Riza didn't have the energy to argue with him.

The mirror was clouded with steam from the hot water in the tub and the air was humid and felt divine when compared to the frigid dryness of the rest of the apartment. Roy quirked an eyebrow at Riza, silently asking if she needed any help getting undressed.

A small smile tugged at Riza's lips as she pushed Roy out of the bathroom. The expression felt strange on her face, but it was a welcome change to the frowns and scowls of the past few days.

Riza slowly undressed and heard Roy banging around in her kitchen once again. She eased herself into the tub and found the hot water under a foot of bubbles heavenly on her joints. She could feel the stiffness and aches seeping out of her into the bathwater and felt normal for the first time in what felt like forever.

Riza spent long minutes just feeling her muscles unknit and loosen. Then she grabbed the sponge and went about the work of cleaning off the sweat and sickness from her skin.

It was then that Roy knocked and stuck his head in the bathroom. "How are you doing?" he asked, his eyes focused on hers.

"Much better," Riza croaked. Then she smiled again. "Did you draw baths for Havoc and Breda, too?"

Roy stood up straight and fully entered the bathroom. "Unlike you, they answered the phone when I called to check up on them," he answered. He looked around the bathroom and located a low stool and brought it to the side of the tub and sat next to her. Riza felt guilty that she'd made Roy worry, and took that guilt as a sign she was feeling a little better.

Riza swallowed thickly. "I apologize, Colonel."

"Well, you helped me around my apartment when I first got sick, so now I'm just returning the favor."

Roy had nearly collapsed at work the week before and Riza had taken it upon herself to get him into bed. She had been less gentle, and the memory of it made her wince. She'd threatened and cajoled in order to get him to do what she wanted. To be fair, though, anything less and he wouldn't have followed her instructions to stay in bed until he was well enough to at least walk around. Still, she could have been nicer. But she had helped him. It's what she did.

Riza held Roy's eyes and suddenly the usual walls they put up when they were around one another disappeared.

She was just Riza. She was the person who knew the boy Roy once was, the man he grew into, and the leader he could someday be.

And he was just Roy. He was the person who knew her better than anyone, trusted her with his life, and who needed her help to change the world.

They knew each other's ghosts and demons in ways that no one else could or would. They didn't need to speak to recognize their shared moment of vulnerability and truth. It was just that he was there for her when she needed him and that she was thankfully accepting his help.

The air was thick with apology and gratitude and anticipation. Riza handed Roy the sponge and leaned forward to hug her knees.

Understanding, Roy dipped the sponge in the bath water and rubbed it down the lean lines of her back. She felt the soft pressure as it ran over her tattoo. Over the scars he had given her. It was part of her own body, but Roy was more familiar with it than she was. It was their shared burden and he washed it with the slow, deliberate sadness that it deserved.

When he was done, Riza unplugged the bath and the lukewarm water rushed down the drain. Roy stood and picked up Riza's bathrobe. He held it out, then chivalrously averted his eyes as she climbed out of the bath. She wrapped herself in the pink terrycloth and braced herself for a chill before she stepped back into her cold apartment.

They didn't speak much for the rest of his stay. She dressed, took the medicine, and ate the soup he had prepared for her. She already felt so much better than she had just the hour before.

Riza walked Roy to the door. "Feel better, Lieutenant," Roy said.

"Yes, sir," she answered. "Thank you."

He didn't answer, but turned and walked down her hallway and into the daylight. She didn't want him to go, but knew it was what had to be. It was the life they'd chosen.

But they were still together and Riza tried to be grateful for the small things. Like the knowledge that she had someone willing to take care of her when she was sick. And the knowledge that she'd see him again in just a few days when they continued the work they needed to do.

END.