HELLO MY DEARS I'M SO SORRY I'VE BEEN GONE FOR SO TERRIBLY LONG. I have no excuse. School should be able to step aside for you darlings. Thank you so much for continuing to read! I'd like to thank everyone that left a review. After reading through them once...twice... I broke down and wrote chapter 9. I hope you enjoy it!

Also: I don't own FMA or any of the characters. If I did, this fic would be done and I would be swimming around in a giant bowl of Royai and happiness.

CH 9

"Riza!" Roy sat there, clawing at the floorboard for hours after the initial shock of seeing her taken right out of his grasp, tears streaming down his face. No, this couldn't be happening. "No, no, no!"

Molly had left to call the police, who hadn't come and, Roy knew, wouldn't be of any use to anyone now. Fuery stayed by Roy, afraid that he would hurt himself. Fuery was worried to, and he felt the tiniest trace of tears starting to fill his eyes out of anxiety.

Roy was sure it had been someone close to Professor Hawkeye. He knew it, who else would it be? He then knew what he had to do. He looked up at Fuery. "I need to learn Flame Alchemy," he stated, "Hawkeye, or maybe one of his cronies, he has her. I know it."

"Why would Mr. Hawkeye kidnap his own daughter? And what does flame alchemy have to do with anything?" Fuery asked, trying to reason with him.

"He did it last time, and when she came back her hair was singed right off of her head, and she had a brand new tattoo covering her entire back, because of her own father's flame alchemy!" He hissed.

Fuery assented; he had a point. He carefully looked over Roy, and noticed that his injured leg was starting- no, not starting to, it was moving seamlessly with the rest of his body. "Roy…" he began, moving closer. "Have you been checking up on your leg recently?"

Roy looked at his leg, startled; he had forgotten about it. "No, I haven't" he admitted. "Why? It doesn't hurt or anything." He inspected it himself as Fuery came up to look at it. Fuery prodded it a few times, and Roy looked at him questioningly.

"Does it hurt?" he asked, prodding Roy where the break was again.

"Not really, no."

"Try standing up."

"What!"

"Just do it." Fuery stood over Roy and held out his hand to help him stand. Roy hesitated before taking it and wobbling up.

"Hey!" He gave a slight smile at the ability to move of his own accord. He walked around a little. "Does this mean I can take off the splint?"

Fuery shook his head. "Probably a bad idea. Keep it on until you're sure you can walk and run and whatnot on your own, or else your leg might get hurt again."

Roy continued walking around, ecstatic that after so long he could finally walk, and soon run, and soon much, much more. 'Now,' he thought, 'now I can finally destroy Professor Hawkeye with his own alchemy. I need to go to him; soon. No, not soon. Now.'

"Fuery!" He jumped out of his daze, making his scrawny friend jump in surprise.

"Yeah, Roy?"

"Where's Professor Hawkeye right now?"

Fuery thought. "Probably in his living quarters, right across the-"

He didn't have time to finish his sentence; Roy had already dashed out of the room and was racing toward the living quarters of Professor Berthold Hawkeye.

The knocking at Berthold's door was sharp and unexpected. "What, who is it?" he muttered to himself. He went to go answer the door and saw his daughter's roommate standing there. "What? Why are you here? Roy, isn't it?" He smiled. "Come in." He led Roy to his main room and invited him to sit down. "So, why are you here, son?"

"Sir," Roy said, as politely and with as much esteem as he was willing to give, "Is it true you've discovered the secret to flame alchemy?"

Professor Hawkeye nodded apprehensively. Did his daughter tell this student?

"Then, could it be true that you need someone to keep this knowledge? Someone to perform the alchemy the way you did, and teach others to do so?"

"Only someone that I can trust." Berthold told him pointedly. Roy stood and went toward him.

"In that case, sir, it would be my honor," Roy kneeled in front of the professor he so hated. "If you would teach me your secret to flame alchemy." He stayed there for several seconds as Berthold said nothing, head lowered and teeth gritted.

"Only if you think you're good enough." The professor finally spat out, wondering how good is he?

"I will be," Roy assured him. 'Once I'm strong enough to burn you alive for all of the inhumane things you've done to your only daughter'. He looked up and met his professor's gaze. Berthold reached his hand down to help Roy up, which he reluctantly took.

"Well, then, ah…"

"Roy. Roy Mustang. I'm your daughter's roommate."

"Alright then, Roy. You're a good student. I'll take you." Berthold smiled approvingly, as if he had just adopted a successful son. "Perhaps my daughter can come in and help too. She's in charge of my research."

Roy could have punched his professor right then and there. How dare he say that. Unbelievable . Actually, no. Very believable. Especially for someone who took his daughter, branded her, and then kidnapped her again without even blinking an eye. Does he even know what love is? Or is it all science and survival to him? Roy amused himself for a moment with a brief thought of Berthold telling his wife that they had to reproduce in order to stay ahead of the ever-evolving parasites or else the entire human population could go extinct. Thus, the greatest success of human nature to this day was born in the form of a headstrong blonde.

"So." Professor Hawkeye forced Roy out of his daydream. "When do you want to begin?"

Roy cleared his throat. "If it's all the same to you, sir, I'd like to start immediately."

"Hello, Miss Hawkeye." The icy calm voice pierced her ears again.

"Who are you? Let me go! What did I do?" Riza's voice became shrill in a panic.

The voice from behind her laughed. "Oh, don't worry my dear. It isn't you. Your father, he did something very dangerous. I never wanted anything to do with you." He sighed. "A shame, really. But you have the information I need, so you will do just the same."

Riza knew he was talking about the tattoo her father had given her, but decided to try and play it off. "What? I don't know anything about anything. You've got the wrong person. My dad never did anything wrong."

"Oh, no. He certainly didn't. He did something dangerously clever. He did this something upon the assumption of my morals. Well, I have morals. But this is more important than anything a cricket in my head has to tell me. You, my dear, are in possession of something more valuable than anything else on the face of the earth, and you can't even see it without straining."

Riza struggled in her seat. "What are you talking about?" she demanded, still hoping to be able to play it off.

"Miss Hawkeye, enough games. You know exactly what I'm talking about. It's a work of art. A work of art that no one has ever seen but your father, and maybe yourself."

She stayed silent, terrified, and the voice continued.

"Yes, I knew we were on the same page. Now, I'll talk to you in the morning about getting in on your secret. But I'll let you know now: I want in. That's a very powerful secret you're keeping. Wouldn't it be a shame if it got out of hand somehow and your poor, unfortunate roommate were to get hurt, or even killed, in the process? Think about it. Ellie, please."

The sassy girl from earlier, who had remained silent throughout, untied a shocked and terrified Riza from her chair and led her into the hallway. She had regained herself enough to stop and turn to look at the man: he was tall and had a hard, almost featureless smirk and was dressed in a crimson colour suit. "You know my name. What's yours?"

The man scoffed and turned away from her. "Kimblee. Solf Kimblee. Now you should get some rest, Miss Hawkeye, before deciding on what to do tomorrow."

Riza turned and obediently went with Ellie to a small room that looked like a medical ward. It had no windows. There was a cot in the far corner, and a dresser at the end of it. Everything was white, save a few blood-coloured stains across the floor and walls. "Why are those-"

Ellie cut her off. "Don't ask. You'll know soon enough. I'll be taking your bag now." She wrenched Riza's purse out of her clutched hands and pushed her inside the ward, locking it. Riza stumbled a few feet and walked to the bed. She sat and sighed, trying to blink back inevitable tears. What would she do? She could give up her father's most dangerous and valuable secret to a dangerous man, or she could let Roy…

She shook her head and a few tears escaped, trickling down her cheek. She sighed, looked up, and gasped in terror.

On the dresser, there was a third option.

On the dresser was a single-shot handgun.

Hello again! Do you approve? if you did, or if you didn't, please leave a review of what you think! If there's anything you think I should fix, feel free to tell me! I want to hear from you (even though you haven't heard from me in such a long time i'm so incredibly sorry)!