Mom and some new fic
Mar. 7th, 2006 10:55 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
cornerofmadnessMy Mom calls me to tell me she's seen the new X3 trailer and when I interupt her to tell her something important before I forget, she yells at me for disturbing her geeky squees (well she doesn't call them that but you know what I mean)
and here's another color_i_fic
Point of Fracture
Shades of Grey Series #4 Shade - Granite
D M Evans
Disclaimer - not mine, all characters belong to Hiromu Arakawa et al, Square Enix and funimition.
Rating - FRMAO (NC-17)
Time line - This corresponds with eppy 25 of the anime and ch 15 & 16 of the manga and contains spoilers for both. The story blends both anime and manga verses
Summary - Roy tries to come to grips with his loss and the surprises that come with it
Author’s Note #1 - Parts of the dialogue come directly from the manga ch 16. If you recognize it, then yeah, that’s where it comes from
Chapter One
Roy couldn’t see, even though his eyes were clear. It took so much willpower to keep them that way. His homecoming wasn’t supposed to be like this. It was supposed to be his triumph, letting everyone know that it wouldn’t be long before he became one of the people with real power, a general. It didn’t matter how many enemies he would have in Central, especially making rank that young, Roy knew he’d be all right. He had enough friends to watch his back.
Only now one of the two friends who mattered most was lying under a state flag being lowered into the ground. When the morbid sounds of dirt hitting the burnished coffin top started echoing, Roy’s legs went as insubstantial as the fog that had burned off the horizon hours ago, leaving the cold day far too beautiful for a burial. He didn’t know where the strength to keep from sinking to the ground came from, but Roy would draw from it until that well was dry.
He could hear Armstrong sobbing. Roy wished he had the strength to just let the emotions out but he knew he wouldn’t stop once he started. He felt Hawkeye’s hand just brush his elbow and he glanced back at her wet face. She managed a little smile for him that pulled together some of the fracture lines in his soul until Elicia started pleading for them not to bury her daddy, that he had too much work to do. Her innocent words gutted Roy.
He bit the inside of his lips to keep the sob firmly strangled. Roy didn’t so much remain in the cemetery as the crowd began to disperse, as he didn’t have the strength to leave it. He was shocked Riza stayed with him. This was as close to admitting they were a couple as anything they had ever done but he didn’t care. He was fractured. He always assumed he’d be the one being laid in the garden of stones while Maes grieved for him. How selfish of him to have even thought of putting this pain on another man’s shoulders.
Roy didn’t know how he managed to keep his voice even as he tried to make a lame joke about Maes’ role in Roy’s plans for presidency, trying to make it seem a little less painful. It failed miserably. There was no filling the gaping chasm in his heart. He only had two true, close friends and now one was gone while the other kept her silent vigil, not trusting his state of mind, he didn’t doubt.
And he went and made her fears worse by opening his mouth and mentioning human transformation. The bitterness and ugly truth of his words frightened her. He could see it in Riza’s sad, beautiful eyes. It terrified him because he meant it. Maes had stopped him all those years ago when he tried to bring back the Rockbells. Who would stop him now? He would gladly give Elicia back her father even if it meant his life but the harsh truth was he knew that it couldn’t work. All he would do was end up dead with a bastard creation left behind.
He still wanted to do it, actually considered it for several long moments while staring at the granite headstone. Roy summoned up images of how furious Maes would be with him if he were to do anything so stupid. It was the one thing holding him back.
“Are you all right, sir?” Hawkeye never sounded less sure.
“I’m fine,” he lied, pulling his hat back on. “It looks like....it’s starting to rain.”
“But...it’s not raining,” she replied, looking at the too-bright saffron orb hanging high against the blue.
He pointedly kept his back to her and tried his best not to let his voice betray him. Tears streamed down his cheeks. “Yes, it is. This is rain.”
“Yes, sir.”
He wished she would have dared to call him by name. Just as well she hadn’t. He would have crumbled. Hawkeye let him cry for a few moments. He didn’t know why he had to be so damn proud. He wanted to let the rain fall, a deluge to wash away his grief. Stubborn pride put a stranglehold on his emotions.
Roy wiped his face, feeling Riza’s hand coming to rest as brief as a butterfly on his back. His swollen eyes met hers. She started crying again. It was his turn for the brief comforting touch.
“Let’s get back. It’s getting cold out here.”
“Yes, sir.”
They walked back to the car, shoulder to shoulder, as couple-like as they had ever been in public, like equals instead of her trailing slightly behind him. Mustang even doubted her ability to watch for danger if something should come their way.
Roy didn’t know if he was happy or pissed off to be back at the office for the rest of the afternoon. He should be relieved to have something to occupy his mind because if he were at liberty he’d be looking for answers at the bottom of a whiskey bottle, finding only empty. But he was pissed at not being able to indulge his grief.
Instead, he threw himself into his work, plowing through all the ridiculous tedious heaps of paperwork a man of his rank had to deal with. Hawkeye had raised an eyebrow at him. Usually she had to threaten him to get him working and inform him he couldn’t toss off the stuff he didn’t want to do on his staff. She was probably wondering why he was still in his chair instead of tracing Hughes’ last steps. He had assigned her to contact some people in the position to know about the murder but until he was sure someone from command wouldn’t just pop in to survey him and his staff, he needed to sit it out. He didn’t even dare stray to the slim flask of whiskey he had hidden in his desk. Later today, he’d go alone. He wasn’t going to risk his staff.
He just wished his staff were a little less silent. The red-eyed stares he and Hawkeye sported had taken their toll. Furey, Breda, and Falman labored in dead silence. They hadn’t really known Hughes coming from the East as they had but Mustang and Hawkeye’s moods were infectious. Havoc really wasn’t doing any work; mostly he was just rolling his cigarette with his lips and staring out the window. Mustang let him be. It was bad enough when a soldier died in the line of duty but to be ambushed and murdered in a damn phone booth while he was trying to contact a friend was intolerable.
Hawkeye brought more paperwork and set it on his desk. “He’s able to meet with us,” she whispered.
Roy nodded and got up, going into his anteroom. “I have to go to the records office,” he said loudly and his staff glanced up at him, startled. “Hawkeye, you’re with me.” She followed him silently. This time out on the street, she fell back a few paces. He turned to her. “Go bring him to me, Hawkeye. Give me time. I need to check out the records office and then I’ll be at the scene of the crime. Meet me there, less eyes will be on us.”
She nodded curtly and clicked off. He wasn’t used to her in heels or a dress for that matter. He didn’t really like her in the heels. He wasn’t sensitive about his own lack of height usually - not like Fullmetal was - but there was something off putting about being the same size as your lover.
Roy walked just as briskly to the records office. The place smelled of disinfectant, having been scrubbed to get rid of the blood trail. Whatever it was that was going on had started here. What had Maes discovered? The clerk said Hughes had tried to call the president then changed his mind. That sent a chill up Roy’s spine. It suggested to him that his friend had a reason to doubt Bradley. Roy ordered the stuff Hughes had been working on to be boxed up and sent to his office. He didn’t know how long he’d have to work on the puzzle. If somehow higher ups in Command were involved, Roy suspected the stuff Hughes had been going through would be confiscated from him if the incriminating documents hadn’t already been seized.
He left the office and headed for the phone booth. The scene of the crime he had called it. What a blasé term for what had happened. It didn’t begin to cover their loss. Roy touched the glass. It was too clean, scrubbed hard to remove his friend’s blood. Maes’ blood had turned the floor of the box, the phone pedestal, and the ground around it dark. Roy’s gut flipped at the sight. It made Maes’ death more intimate. What the hell had happened to have led to this?
There was no doubts in Roy’s mind that this wasn’t random. This wasn’t some kind of mugging gone wrong. Hughes had been chased from the records office to here. Maes had died trying to warn Roy of something. The outside line...that meant only one thing. Hughes didn’t trust someone within the military. Adding that to his sudden change of heart about calling Bradley in the records office terrified Roy because he no longer had any idea who to trust outside of his hand-picked crew. Something in military command had rotted. Roy was reminded that often it was the head of the fish that stinks and wondered just how high the corruption had spread. If Hughes had been cut down, Roy suspected the answer was very high indeed.
He heard Hawkeye’s heels clacking behind him. He knew her walk, had memorized its cadence, knew each sway of her hip and how her breasts moved as her arms swung so that he didn’t even need to see her to call the image to mind. She had an easy rolling gait that allowed her to shift her weight and strike out lightning fast should the need arise. The footsteps that accompanied hers were heavy, precise.
Roy took a deep breath in and braced himself for this conversation. Armstrong was likely to cry and if he did, Roy wasn’t sure he could resist. He took a final look at the large stain left by Hughes’ blood then turned to face them.
The entire exchange left Mustang feeling sick, cold, miserable, clammy sweat trickling down his spine. Armstrong had been commanded not to speak. That told Roy volumes. High levels of command had to be involved. It wasn’t as huge as surprise as it might have been just a few weeks ago but hearing from Maes how Gran had been using Lab Five, to learn that the bastard Crimson Alchemist was still alive had been a huge clue. Those facts were the first layer of the onion that made up Command. The more he peeled, the more it stank.
His mouth started moving almost of its own accord after Hawkeye observed it wasn’t like him to mix his personal feelings with business. He didn’t mean to sound so harsh but to him Hughes was both and if anyone thought he wouldn’t do everything he could to avenge his friend, they were mistaken. Suddenly he heard himself telling her he was going after Military Command. Nothing like disengaging his brain and blurting that out in public. “Will you help me?”
Her dark eyes leveled on him. “You know there’s no need to ask.”
He wanted to grab her, hold on for life. She could have turned away from him then and there. A sane woman would but she didn’t even flinch. She would never leave him, no matter what, no matter how dangerous, Riza would be with him. He didn’t know what he had done to deserve her but he was thankful for every stolen moment they could spend together. “Thank you,” he whispered.
Her smile would have to substitute for the feel of her arms around him, no matter how much he needed them now. He wanted to fracture in her arms because he knew she could hold him together.
“We’d better get back, sir.”
He just nodded, pinching the bridge of his nose to fight back the emotions. “This is going to be so hard.”
“I know,” she said softly.
Mustang gulped for air and regained his control. He let his anger filter back in. It pushed out the sadness for a little while at least. He didn’t want to go back to his office. He just wanted to go home and collapse but he couldn’t, not yet. Hell, he had for find out where the Elrics had gone off to on top of everything. They needed someone to look after them. Mature or not, they were still boys and they had very powerful enemies. Wherever they were, he knew they must be ignorant of Hughes’ death. He couldn’t see them not being here otherwise. He needed to find them before something ugly did. Roy tried to quiet the chaos in his mind as he went back into his office and failed miserably.
Chapter Two
Whiskey burned. If someone were to distill his essence, Mustang knew he’d be whiskey; smoky, fiery, dangerous. Roy nearly knocked his glass over with numb fingers reaching for it. He had finally made his way to the home he kept in Central. It was a little garden cottage kept for him by the widower of an alchemist Roy had once trained with under Cinzia’s direction. The old man kept the cottage for Roy without Mustang’s name being on the books anywhere. Roy hadn’t wanted to look presumptuous about his chances at being recalled to Central. Mr. Hill hadn’t wanted any payment for keeping the house for Mustang, but Roy supplied some any how.
He drew all the curtains and turned on the radio to his favorite station. Roy had torn off his uniform, uncustomarily leaving it on the bedroom floor and pulled on old worn pants. He didn’t even pull on a shirt over his undershirt. Without even bothering to light a fire to take the chill out of the living room, he had collapsed in his chair and started drinking. Roy felt so much like his father at that moment, it sickened him. What did it matter that he drank expensive whiskey instead of cheap corn mash or that his radio station was tuned to symphonies rather than the insipid shows his father liked? Right now, slowly getting drunk off his ass, he was more like a Mustang than he had ever been.
Someone knocked on the front door. Roy tried to ignore it but the person wasn’t going to allow that. He pretty much could guess who it would be. Very few people knew he kept this cottage and most of them wouldn’t attempt to come here. It was probably Mr. Hill checking up on him, knowing about the funeral. Roy managed to get up and padded barefoot in an uneven arc across the cold wood flooring. For a moment, he had no idea who the woman was on his door step with her long dark hair sticking out from under her hood. It wasn’t until the third blurry look that he realized it was Riza.
“What are you doing here?” She never came to his home or he to hers. They didn’t dare get caught fraternizing. More often than not back when they had been in Central, they’d meet at Hughes’ place under the pretense of mutual friendship with the Hugheses. Gracia and Maes were well aware of each and every tryst. It was a little embarrassing but at least it didn’t feel cheap like the low rent hotels out East. His best friend had been a bridge to his lover; yet another hole left inside of him.
“What do you think?” She pushed past him. Her voice was softer than her stance.
“You shouldn’t be here,” he growled, afraid for her, afraid for him. Why did love have to be so hard?
“Forget the military for a minute, Roy. I don’t care if someone knows I’m here,” she lied, pulling off the dark wig. “You shouldn’t be alone. I don’t want to be either. I cared about Hughes, too.” Riza’s voice shook as she reached for Roy.
He locked the door behind her, skirting away from her hands. “You shouldn’t see me like this,” he growled, shaking his head. His face flushed in embarrassment at her seeing him this sloppy.
“I’ve seen you drunk before. You need me tonight.” Riza caught his hand but he skinned away.
“Not like this. I feel...so dangerous, Riza. I don’t want you to see this side of me.” Shame dragged his head down.
“I love you. I can handle all sides.” Riza grabbed his arm firmly and guided him over the patterned floor to the other room. If one peeled back the throw rugs, they’d see the arrays Roy had painted on his flooring. His home was a weapon. She forced him down on the red leather couch and sat next to him. She barely had time to toss her arms around him before a heart rending sob tore free of Roy. Riza tucked her chin against his soft hair. “You don’t have to keep it in any more. Just let it go.” She stroked his back.
Roy dissolved against her, crying until his throat was raw, his face wet with tears and snot. Roy sat back, covering his face. “You shouldn’t see me like this.”
Riza wiped her own eyes then reached into his pocket to pull out his handkerchief. She pressed it into his hand.
Roy blotted his face. “Thanks,” he muttered. “I’m sorry.”
“For what? Being human? Missing your friend?” She brushed his hair back. “You never have to be embarrassed with me.”
He met her big eyes. “That’s not what you said in New River.”
“Being overly male and stupid is excluded from the above statement.” She kissed him.
“I had to call Maes to come rescue me.” Roy smiled faintly at the memory.
“Damn straight. You knew better than to call me.” Riza tapped his nose. “Whatever made you think you could taken on three women at once...you deserved to be handcuffed to the bed and robbed.”
“I’m just impressed I was able to drag the bed to the phone.” Roy choked back a laugh then broke down again. “Oh damn, I’m going to miss him so much.”
“So will I.” She nestled her cheek against his chest. “I know how much Maes meant to you. I know how he saved you from yourself time and again.”
Roy gasped for breath, pushing her away just a bit. “You knew that he...”
“Kept you from trying human transformation years ago?” She brushed his hair back then stroked his cheek. “Yes. That he picked you up after every time you tried to hurt yourself, to punish yourself for your past? Yes. He told me that, too.” Riza might not like that he sometimes turned to anonymous lovers, that he used them to hurt himself but she could forgive him, knowing the demons inside his head.
Roy wiped his eyes. “I didn’t want...” He swallowed hard. His throat ached. “You shouldn’t...”
“He wanted me to know. Maes knew how I love you, that I’d do anything for you.” She brushed his hair back off his forehead again. “He wanted to be sure there was someone to watch over you.”
“I don’t deserve either of you,” he whimpered.
Riza embraced him even more tightly, pressing her lips to his wet cheek. “Never say that. You are a good man, Roy. Just look at how you take care of your men or how you try to look out for the brothers, even if Edward makes that hard. I know he doesn’t appreciate it but he’s just a child. He doesn’t understand yet.”
“I know,” Roy said, weakly.
She pressed back against the buttery leather of the couch, pulling him against her. “I would not love you against all reason if you were not a good person. I do not suffer fools lightly.”
Roy sighed. “I’ve never understood why you’d want to break the rules to be with me.”
“I’m in your orbit. I couldn’t break free if I wanted to, which I don’t.” She leaned against his shoulder, snuggling her cheek into the crook of his neck.
He caressed her hand. “I need you so much.”
Hawkeye hugged him tighter. He knew she had never heard him so needy, so demonstrative with his feelings. They had to be so careful, so reserved and he was just drunk enough to not care. His pride was gone, washed away in the whiskey. He didn’t need to hide from Riza. She was the one person who he could be himself with. There were days that he wished he could have the bravery of the Crystal Alchemist and go into hiding, doing something good with his alchemy. Forget the military, forget his ambition. Be there for the people, marry Riza, raise a little family. It was a pleasant daydream. Then reality always crashed in. The alchemy he was best at was destructive. He and Hawkeye knew they had important roles to play right where they were. They weren’t going anywhere.
“I need you so much. I’m lost, love, I’m lost,” he mewled.
Riza wrapped herself around him, petting him, kissing him, feeling him relaxing against her in small measures. His desperation and sorrow seemed to ebb, replaced with raw need. His warmth bled through his clothing, igniting Riza’s own needs. She rocked against him, crawling into his lap. Roy fought with her clothing, too distraught to get anywhere. His cock ached between his legs. He needed to be in her.
He held onto her back as he stood. Riza wrapped her legs around him as he carried her to the bedroom. She was surprised when he tossed her on the bed rather unceremoniously. She almost bounced into one of the ornate posts. He was on top of her fast, shoving her shirt up. Her bra barely stopped him as he yanked on it. There was no passion here. For the first time ever, he made her nervous.
“Roy, slow down,” she said, trying to get her bra off before it cut into her flesh.
He grunted, tearing at his belt. He roughly opened it and yanked his pants down, Roy snared his fingers in her belt loops, ripping her pants down over her hips. He swarmed on top of her, forcing her legs open.
“Roy, you know better.” She pointed to the night stand. “Sheepskin!”
Roy rolled away from her and yanked the drawer open so hard it nearly pulled out of the stand.
“Roy, you’re in such a mood. Maybe we shouldn’t,” she said, as he sheathed himself in one jerky motion. Before she knew what he was doing, Roy flipped her on her belly and was inside her before she was ready. “Roy! Stop! You’re hurting me.” She elbowed him in the chest. “Roy!”
At the sharpness of her voice, his face changed, horror shining from his eyes. He got off her with a strangled cry. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” The words barely made it past his tight throat. He propelled himself off the bed and she knew he was going to run.
She caught his arm, pulling him back onto the black and cinnabar patterned bedspread. “Roy, it’s okay, baby. I know you’re a mess.”
He flopped back, crossing his arms over his face. A ragged moan tore out of him. “I didn’t know...he’s in me! I never thought he could be.”
“He who?” She rubbed his chest. “Your father? Oh, no Roy, you’re not like him. You’re nothing like that. You’re a good man. You just drank too much and you’re in so much pain tonight.”
He flinched away from her, his voice sharper than broken glass. “No excuses! I don’t want to be him. I never wanted to hurt you.”
Riza peeled his arms away from his face and kissed him. “You’re not your father, Roy. I know your heart...you’ve never done anything like tonight before. It’s not you. It’s the grief.” She pressed her lips against the hollow of his neck. She didn’t know why she was so forgiving other than she knew that Roy wasn’t a violent man, had never been, not with her. “I forgive you this time.”
Roy’s eyes screwed shut, tears leaking down his face. She reached down and stripped the prophylactic off his now-unaroused cock and pitched it. She gathered him up in her arms, pillowing him against her.
Roy wept softly for a little while then murmured, “How can I still have tears?
“Just let it all out.” Riza stroked his soft hair. “You don’t want to suppress all of this.”
His arms constricted around her. “You’re too good to me.”
“Didn’t we already have this conversation? I love you and you deserve it,” Riza said, fluttering kisses over his face.
Roy settled, falling silent, no tears, no words. She just rocked him until his eyes began to shut. Riza slid a hand up his thigh, watching his testicles draw up. She fondled his balls gently.
“Riza,” he murmured, his eyes opening in surprise.
“Yes?” She smiled softly as she kneaded his flesh.
“You shouldn’t...”
“Your razor’s edge is gone,” she interrupted. “I need you as much as you need me tonight.” She shifted her hand to his shaft, stroking him long and languidly, feeling him hardening. His mouth found hers as he slipped a hand between her legs. His fingers toyed with her gently. This was the man she knew best, not the angry creature from earlier.
Roy sighed against the skin of her shoulder. No matter what she said she was too good to him. He loved her more than he knew how to tell her. She was the only bright spot left in his life. He kissed his way down to the soft skin of her chest until he found one perked, waiting nipple. He rolled his tongue over it, feeling the little bud of flesh hardening more under the warmth of his mouth. Riza stroked his hair as he sucked on her. He rubbed against her, the head of his cock moving along her thigh. He moaned as her fingers reached down, closing over him. Riza made him lay back.
“I love the way you feel,” she said as she rolled his penis between her hands. Riza moved so she could trace around the head of his cock. She flicked away the pearls of moisture with her tongue then nibbled gently on his foreskin. He groaned softly. “You like when I tease you, don’t you?” She smiled.
“Love everything you do,” he replied, his breathing ragged.
“Like this for instance?” Riza swallowed him down deep.
Roy didn’t even try to hold back the soft sounds of his delight. He fought the urge to pump his hips, driving into her mouth. He knew she didn’t like that. She liked being in control. He enjoyed letting her have his reins. After how horrible he’d been tonight, Roy knew he was lucky she hadn’t just walked out the door. He loved her so much. When his head was back on straight, he’d have to do something to apologize properly. Thinking right wasn’t going to happen tonight even without the wondrous things her tongue and lips were doing to him.
“Riza, I’m going...” he rasped out the warning.
She let him pop free of her mouth and applied a little pressure, just under the head of his penis. “Not yet.” Her hand moved from his cock to his cheek, letting him catch his breath. She traced the bow of his lip. Roy turned his head sucking her fingers in. She grinned and let him play for a while then leaned over to get another prophylactic out of the drawer.
Riza slipped it over him then ran a finger through his coarse raven curls. Roy whimpered, pleading with his eyes. The teasing felt good but he needed more. Riza slipped him into her. Warm and wet, he could get lost in her. For brief moments, he did just that, only aware of the rhythm of their bodies in motion. The way they fit together pushed all his pain deep into the recesses of his mind. The slow way she made love to him did make him feel more ashamed of what he had done earlier.
He put his hands on her hips and eased her over to the bed with him. Roy rolled up onto one arm, trailing a hand over her belly, feeling her flesh quiver under his touch. “May I?” He didn’t know what he’d do if she said no. She simply pulled him on top of her. Roy pumped into her slow at first, unsure of himself. At all the little kisses and touches she gifted him with, he picked up his speed until they were crashing together, lightning to water. Her sharp cries sang in time to the creak of the bed.
His neck arched back as he emptied into the sheepskin. Roy collapsed down against her, his chest heaving, moving slickly over hers. Riza crossed her legs over him, smoothing a hand over his cheek. “Stay,” she whispered. Roy didn’t disagree, staying as close to her as he could for as long as he could before finally tossing out the prophylactic and dropping off in the warmth of her embrace.
X X X
Someone pounding on the door dragged Roy and Riza out of their deep slumber. Roy rubbed his eyes, his hair in his face.
“Who in the hell could this be?” His deep voice grated, rough with sleep.
“Sounds like someone desperate. Better get out there before the door comes down.” Riza kissed his shoulder blade as he sat up, then she rolled over.
Roy didn’t have to look back to know she was getting the gun out of his bed stand. He fumbled around and found his boxers; silk. He might have to wear wool pants all day but he’d be damned if he’d wear scratchy regulation underpants unless out on a mission. He didn’t try to find his robe. It was nearly three in the morning. Whoever it was could just live with the fact that he was almost naked and half asleep.
Mustang was so stunned to see Armstrong standing there when he opened the door that he couldn’t speak for a moment. “Alex Louis? What’s wrong?” Roy managed to rasp out, regretting now his choice to forgo pants.
“There’s something you need to know, Colonel, something that has to remain just between us and the people in there.” Armstrong stepped aside and pointed to the ambulance parked on the street. If the other alchemist noticed Roy was nearly naked, he gave no sign.
“What’s going on?” Roy eyed the ambulance in surprise.
Armstrong’s eyes swept the darkened street and he determined it still wasn’t covert enough. “We’ll talk inside the vehicle.”
Mustang gave him a sour look then padded barefoot to the ambulance. Armstrong opened the back to reveal Maria Ross sitting next to a gurney, her gun out and trained on the door. She holstered it seeing Armstrong. Denny Brosh glanced back at them from the driver’s seat. Mustang blushed a bit, not ready for half his men to see him like this. Roy’s eyes canted toward the gurney and the dark-haired man lying on it. Oxygen tubing ran from his nose to the tank at the head of the gurney. IV’s hung from a tree, the fluids contained in their glassy depths seeming ominous in the pale dome light of the ambulance.
The man’s skin was so pale Roy could see threads of blue cutting through it. The glasses were missing but Roy knew who this was, even if it was impossible, and the realization nearly took his legs out from under him. Roy felt Armstrong’s huge hand on his back, steadying him. He sprang inside the vehicle and Maria gave up her seat next to the gurney. Roy fell into it, scrambling for the man’s icy hand. “Maes,” he said before all conscious thought left him.
“You look...” Hughes wet his cracked lips. “Like hell.”
“I buried my best friend today.” Tears leaked out of the corners of Roy’s eyes. His emotions were going too many directions at once. “I’m allowed.”
“And you...smell....whiskey.” Hughes managed a smile, panting a little for breath.
“Yeah well, I got a little drunk. You save your breath.” Roy looked over at Armstrong, trying to regain his control. He could barely think. How could this be happening?. “What the hell is going on?” He rubbed Hughes’ hand trying to warm it.
“It happened almost like the official report, sir only...” Armstrong waved a hand at Hughes.
“I saw Lieutenant Colonel Hughes running from the building bleeding and I followed him only to see myself catch up to him at a phone booth. I was too stunned to do anything...then I watched myself change....” Maria shuddered.
“Into Gracia,” Hughes said, his eyes screwing shut.
Roy tucked the cool hand he had grabbed back under the blanket then touched Hughes’ shoulder. “What?”
“Homuculus,” Hughes replied, his citrine eyes opening again.
Roy shook his head. It was too much. Homunculi, fake funerals and seeing Hughes here. “That’s not possible. They’re myth.”
“Lab Five.” Hughes broke off, struggling to breathe.
“The Elrics encountered the homunculi in Lab Five,” Armstrong took up the tale since Hughes was in no condition for long explanations. “It appears they are not myth and at least this one can look like anyone it wants.”
“And you knew this.” Roy looked between the two men, feeling his temper getting the better of him. “Damn it, why didn’t anyone tell me?”
“Because you were...East,” Hughes said, sweat starting to bead on his upper lip as the effort wore on him.
“The Lieutenant Colonel was trying to keep it under wraps until we had more time to investigate what was happening,” Armstrong replied. “And you were out East and there would have been nothing you could have done to keep the Elrics safe from there.”
“Still should have told me,” Roy growled, wondering how things had spun so far out of control.
“More to tell you,” Hughes said. “When I’m stronger...”
“Does Armstrong know?” Roy glanced between them again. He didn’t want to wait on information. Hughes wasn’t out of the woods yet. What if something happened to him?
“No one...” Hughes’ eyes fluttered shut.
“We’ll take good care of him,” Maria promised, her dark eyes sad. “When I went to help him, the Lieutenant Colonel told me he didn’t trust military hospitals. I got him to the closet private one. Major Armstrong helped.”
“That’s one good thing about having a long family line, isn’t Alex Louis? Lots of connections but to let us think he was dead...” Roy shuddered, memories of the funeral bubbling back up.
“Had to,” Hughes said. “They need to think...I’m gone. You can’t tell anyone.”
“Does Gracia know?” Roy asked, eyes huge at the image of her trauma when this all came out.
“Can’t tell her, Roy, promise.” Hughes tried to take Roy’s hand but couldn’t get his out from under the covers.
“I...hate this but yes, of course. You’re dead. If you think the military is behind this and you do, don’t you?” Roy asked and Hughes nodded. “Then you need to stay dead. What happens now?”
“Second Lieutenant Ross and Brosh and I are transporting the Lieutenant Colonel out of town so he can recuperate without anyone knowing that he survived his wounds,” Armstrong said.
“Where?” Roy asked, still unable to process it all.
“Can’t say yet,” Hughes said. “Will tell you new name and location...later. Best I deal with Armstrong...they’ll be watching you.” He shut his eyes wearily. He shivered violently. Roy knew the pain and blood loss were catching up to his friend.
“Yes, they will. I’ll make sure of it. I’ll draw the fire away from Armstrong. I’ll investigate your death even if I’ve been told to back off. They’ll be expecting it,” Roy replied, looking around the ambulance frantically. He wanted to pace, to let the nervous energy out and he couldn’t. “Do you need to take him now?”
“We should get going,” Maria said, looking up at Denny, who nodded and turned over the engine.
“You take care, Maes. I’ve buried you once. I won’t make it through doing it again,” Roy said, trying to smile.
Hughes tried to catch his hand again so Roy met him half way. “She’s here, isn’t she?”
“Who?” Roy asked, his eyes canting over to Maria and Armstrong who probably could guess he had an illicit lover but he wasn’t sure of it. Brosh probably could see that too from his obstructed-view seat behind the wheel.
“She left...her mark on your chest.” Hughes managed a grin.
“What?” Roy glanced down and saw the love bite just above his left nipple. “Oh, damn. Yes, she’s here.”
Hughes’ face went grim. “Can’t tell her.”
“I won’t...going to have to make up a lie for right now but I can handle it.” Roy squeezed Hughes’ hand then stood up. “I can’t say...I wanted to try and bring you back.”
“Stupid, freak.” Hughes shook his head. “Glad you came outside...properly dressed.”
“You woke me up. We’re all lucky I’m wearing anything,” Roy grumbled, very self conscious now that the shock had worn off.
“We’re...grateful.” Hughes made a soft sound that might have been a laugh before it dissolved into pain. His hand went to his chest.
Roy could only imagine what the wounds looked like. His friend might still die from complications but he refused to think on it. “Goodbye, Maes. I’ll watch over your family for you.”
“I know.” The relief was evidence in Hughes’ voice.
Roy jumped out of the ambulance before he started crying again and staggered up the walk. Armstrong followed him. “Take care of him, Armstrong.”
“Of course.” Armstrong swept Roy up in a tight embrace, much to the smaller man’s chagrin. “I know he would have done this if he had the strength.”
Roy decided instantly he liked Armstrong’s demonstrative nature when it was directed at people who weren’t him. He wiggled free. “Yeah.” It was then he heard a noise and looked over to see old Mrs. Brown standing outside with her little dog on a leash doing its business. He smiled at her, too embarrassed to do anything else, like dart for cover. “Out late, aren’t you, Mrs. Brown?”
Her eyes just flicked to his mostly naked state and then to Armstrong and the old woman said nothing. Roy just kept on smiling like an idiot as he left Armstrong on the sidewalk and stalked back into his house. Riza was on the porch, gun in hand.
“Why was Armstrong hugging you?” she asked, backing up.
“He’s still upset after the funeral. You know how emotional he is,” Roy said, locking his front door. “But on the upside my neighbors think my illicit lover is Alex Louis.”
Riza choked back a laugh. “Sorry, that’s not funny, I know, but that has to be like getting buggered by a draft horse!”
“Riza!” Roy stared at her incredulously, trying very hard not to picture that scenario.
She sobered. “But what did he want at this hour? And what’s with the ambulance?”
“He’s undercover for Investigations. I didn’t press him on it. Sorry. And I couldn’t let him know you were here, of course,” Roy said, trying to push past her. “I’d like to not talk about it, Riza.”
She gave him a curious look. “I know you aren’t telling me everything.”
“I’ve told you what I can. You know what Investigations is like, all secrecy. Please...you’ll have to leave soon. I just want to go back to bed,” Roy said, too weary to think any more.
She took his hand and dragged him back into the bedroom. “I have tomorrow off. I’m staying all day. Almost no one knows where you even live and those who do don’t care if I’m here. Let’s just stay in.”
“I...” He pulled her to him, feeling the butt of her gun digging into his shoulder as she embraced him. “Don’t leave me.”
“I won’t.” Riza set the gun aside and led him back into bed. Tired as he was, sleep was the last thing on Roy’s mind.
Chapter Three
Roy dragged to consciousness very slowly, his cheek cushioned against soft hair. He pressed a kiss into the hair then realized something was very wrong. He sat up, sputtering. His head throbbed with hangover drums but not too badly. Black Hayate glanced at him when the pressure of Roy’s face lifted. “Weren’t you a beautiful woman just a few hours ago?” he groaned, scrubbed a hand through the dog’s thick fur. Hayate’s curled tailed wagged, dragging over Roy’s face. The man sneezed. “Where did you come from and why did she allow you in my bed?”
Roy rolled out of bed and flipped the cinnabar and black bedspread back over the mattress covering up Hayate, who didn’t seem to mind. He padded over to the black bedroom curtains then decided to leave them drawn. It wouldn’t do to let the neighbors catch a glimpse of Riza, just in case. After taking care of his business in the master bath, Roy went to look for his lover, not bothering to pull on more than his boxers.
They had never been in the same place all night and day before, barring missions which hardly counted. She had apparently opted for the same level of caution he had. All the living room curtains were drawn and a little stack of wood had been built in the fireplace waiting for him to wake up and help chase away with morning chill. It was still blustery outside. He could hear the wind against the house. Riza had a fragrant cup of tea in one hand - apparently having helped herself to the finest stuff he had gotten from a Xing trader - and one of his books off the shelf in the other hand. He grimaced, seeing she had found one of the works of fiction, an indulgence of his love of scaring himself with ghost stories.
He leaned over the back of the black leather chaise lounge and kissed her cheek. “Morning.”
“That’s nice.” She reached back and ruffled his hair.
“Better than my first kiss today. Too furry.” He smiled then dragged one of his pie-shaped ottomans over from the four piece circle of red leather ottomans. He sat in front of her, grinning like an errant boy. He knew he should at least look as hangover-ridden as he felt or she’d suspect something but he couldn’t help it. He knew his friend wasn’t really dead and he was getting to spend a day with the woman he loved. He’d just have to convince Riza she was entirely responsible for his lifted spirts. “Why did you let Hayate in my bed...and where did he come from?”
“I figured if I was going to spend the day, I’d better go bring him here. You were sound asleep. I decided you needed the rest.” Riza smiled at him.
He leaned forward, pillowing his cheek on her warm thigh. She stroked his hair. “This is our first real morning together,” he said.
“I know.”
Her hand stilled on his head. Roy sat up and they both looked at each other for several long moments. Roy felt so odd, so out of place. They had never been here before when it wasn’t business and suddenly he didn’t know what to say to her.
“Why does it feel awkward?” she asked, finally.
“I was about to ask you that...we never really have the chance to just relax and enjoy each other. I don’t think we know how.” Roy’s nose wrinkled. “Maybe I should...just start the fire or something.”
“This is really sad.” Riza shook her head. “I could make breakfast for us.”
“That sounds good.” Roy put a hand on the array that was on the carved wooden mantle piece and the fire blazed. He watched Riza leave the room. His eyes raked over the living room. Why did he keep this place? Sometimes he wondered, looking at all the furniture. He had a red leather couch and an overstuffed black leather cigar chair in addition to the lounge and ottoman. All this furniture in a place most people didn’t know he had. He didn’t really have that many friends. Who was he trying to impress with leather furniture and tables with their sweeping cabriole legs designed to look like golden vines, clawed feet and marble tops? He was a soldier who had to move often. It was pure vanity to keep a place he could be assigned away from at any moment and he had been, for far too long but he still paid for this home even if he couldn’t live in it.
There was very few he could invite in to use his little bar with the black stone top dotted with fossilized leaves. No, this place was a monument to his ego and thinking about it and his utter failure with Riza just a few moments before helped crash his mood to where it should be for a man who the world thought had just buried his best friend. He knew exactly why he kept this house. It wasn’t really even vanity. It was to say to himself he was better than his beginnings. He had become something, a man of taste and refinement instead of a broken creature from a mill, old before his time or worse, a used up prostitute that his father tried to turn him into. He had become an arrogant, indulgent brat.
“Roy!” The irritated tone to Riza’s voice surprised him.
Roy headed for the kitchen. “Yeah?”
“This is all you have for breakfast.” She shook some shriveled grapes at him. “Is this why you’re so thin? You don’t eat?”
“I’m not thin. I’m wiry,” Roy protested and got the evil eye in return. “I don’t live here any more. I just moved back. There’s not much in the larder. I can run to the market.”
“I think you’ll have to if we plan on staying in all day. Here, have a grape.” She flicked one at him.
He ducked and Hayate swooped in from nowhere to scarf it up. “I’ll call my grocer and my butcher. They deliver. It’ll take an hour or two.”
“I think we can find ways of occupying ourselves until then,” she said then propelled him to the phone.
She left him to make his call. Roy put in orders for staples, some fresh fruits and vegetables and some prime cuts of beef for later. He went back to the living room to see Riza peering into the leaded glass curio shelves that were part of the mantle piece, looking at the strange assortment of bric-a-brac he had in there.
“I always like to see if you’ve added anything,” she said as he ran his hand over her back.
“Just a little glass piece from out east this time,” he replied, pointing it out.
“I remember you eyeing that up in the store.” Riza looked at him, then reached out to ruffle his hair. “I never pictured you being this casual in the morning. I didn’t ask and I should have, how are you feeling now?”
Roy tried to smooth down his hair, which he knew was still sticking up all over even without her assistance. Riza was right, she had never seen him this casual. “I’m okay, well, not okay but you know what I mean. I’m hung over a little and I’m sad but...I’ll be okay. How about you?”
“Okay. Armstrong didn’t cry all over me in public.” She smiled softly.
“Old Mrs. Brown saw,” Roy said with a pout.
Riza stroked his hair. “The poor woman will never be the same.”
“I’m not sure I’ll be either.” He managed a little smile, capturing her hand to drop a kiss into it.
“I’m sure being hugged by Strongarm while wearing nothing but your silk undies could be scarring.” Riza couldn’t help herself. A little laugh bubbled out of her.
“Better convince me hugging you is better than him.” Roy pressed her back against the warm wall next to the mantle, rubbing said silk boxers against her.
“Convince you?” Riza kissed him. “I think you’re convincing yourself pretty well without me.”
Roy nuzzled her neck, his burgeoning erection tucking against her belly. “This has everything to do with you, trust me.”
Riza mumbled something that might have been, ‘I do,’ as their lips met and their tongues fenced. Roy slipped a hand inside her trousers, feel the warm wetness against his questing fingers. Riza moaned into his mouth as he teased her. Suddenly, he stopped.
“What’s wrong,” she asked, rubbing herself against him.
A little frown kissed his lips. “The dog’s watching.”
She snorted, rubbing the silk over his erection. “Hayate’s behind you. You can’t even see him.”
“I can feel his eyes. I can’t do this while the dog’s watching,” Roy moaned, resting his forehead on her shoulder. His face had become a ruby.
She ran a hand over his cheek. “You get shy over the strangest things, do you know what?”
He kissed her neck. “Sorry.”
“Hayate, go. Shoo.” Riza waved a hand at her pet. Hayate cocked his head then trotted towards the kitchen. “Better?”
“Immensely.” Roy sank to his knees in front of her, kissing her belly. “I wanted to make it up to you for being such an ass yesterday.”
Her eyes clouded. “Roy, you don’t have...”
“But I’m not getting off to a good start between Hayate and not having any food.” Roy ignored her protest, sliding her pants down. “I guess I’ll need to be more creative.” His lips and tongue danced over her dewy flowery folds.
Riza sighed, one hand balancing herself on the wall and the other toying with his hair. “That’s perfect.”
X X X
“This is so beautiful,” Riza purred, snuggling against Roy’s chest. They were both stretched out on the couch listening to the radio, glasses of wine in hand. Hayate was curled up in a jumble over their legs. A plate of cheeses, fruits and breads was on the marble coffee top.
“It’s the piano concerto in D minor by Fadden played by the Lidelphian Orchestra,” Roy said, his fingers idly stroking her arm.
“Lidelphia, I know it’s considered one of the homes of music and theater, have you ever been there?” Riza nestled in tighter.
“Once, I used to live there with my teacher. It was beautiful. I could live there forever, I think.” Roy sighed. “The Ravensdales got me started on this music. Cinzia made sure I got a real appreciation for it and for cooking, in spite of what my kitchen looked like this morning.”
Riza rubbed her belly. “You more than proved that with dinner. It’ll be hours before I can even move.”
Roy laughed. “Glad you liked it.” He reached around her and plucked a sweet, wine-soaked strawberry out of the bowl and pressed it against her lips. Riza obligingly ate it. He loved watching her lips part just so to take in the succulent food. He’d need to watch himself. He was a little full-bellied, too, to be thinking with his loins but the desire was there.
Riza looped her fingers in his, pressing her lips to his knuckles. Roy was surprised when something like light rain started hitting his skin. He caught her shoulders, turning her slightly. Her eyes were tightly shut, lashes fringed with tears.
“Riza, what’s wrong?”
“I don’t want this night to end.” She looked up at him with swimming brown eyes. “I want to stay like this always, me and you, together, in our house, with our dog, having our hearts free. I don’t want to go home by myself.”
Roy’s lips trembled. He kissed her forehead. “I want that, too, Riza. More than you know. Sometimes, when Hughes would be bragging about his prefect life with Gracia and Elicia, I wouldn’t have to fake being angry, like we’d do so people would think his calls were mere annoyances instead of covert messages. I would be upset because I wanted it, too, with you.”
Riza put her cheek in the palm of his hand. “I know you can’t resign. I know what you want, Roy, and why you want it. You don’t want the power for power’s sake. You want to make things better. Maybe you’re a naive fool to think it can be done but I still think it’s a worthy cause.”
“And from the beginning I knew how much attaining your own goals meant to you. I would never ask you to resign.” Roy stroked her hair. “ But if you wanted to, I’d support you. You could do anything you wanted. With your talents, you could do anything. The police force in town would be lucky to get you, if you wanted to use your skills for something like that. Even if you resigned, I couldn’t see you as a stay at home mother like Gracia.”
Riza made a bitter sound. “Probably not.” She sighed, turning to face him. “You need me where I am right now, Roy. I know that. You have those boys to look out for. You can’t do that on your own and now....now that someone’s taken Hughes, you need me more than ever. If we’re right and the enemy is someone in Military Command then I could never leave my post. You need me too much. If I resigned and you were the next one targeted, I’d never forgive myself.”
Roy scooped her closer, shifting on the couch, displacing Hayate. He let Riza stretch out on his body. “It’s always going to be your choice, Riza. I want you by my side either as we are now or as something new.”
She hugged him, listening to his heart beat. “I’ll stay for now. I don’t have to go home yet, do I?”
“It’s still early.”
“Then just hold me,” she ordered and he obeyed.
X X X
Roy lifted his head from the pillows, not sure what that sound was. Oh, someone at the door. Roy looked at the clock and saw it was very late. He wondered who it could be. In the last few weeks since the funeral, he had sunk back into his usual routine, work, home, work, fret over the Elrics, work, sneak time with Riza, work and do anything but think about Hughes’ ‘death.’ Another three in the morning visit upset that routine.
Roy swung out of bed, and this time he took the few moments required to locate his robe. He padded barefoot to the door, his static glove tucked into his robe’s pocket. He opened the door and was surprised once more to see Armstrong. He took a step back. “Major?”
Armstrong glanced around then stepped inside. He reached into his jacket and pulled out an envelope. “From our mutual friend.”
Roy took it, his hand gliding into the silk pocket of his robe with it. If he were going to get more visits from soldiers in the middle of the night, maybe he’d need a robe other than the Xingenese silk one, black with red flames, that Jenna had sent for his birthday one year. He felt like an idiot. “How’s he doing?” Roy managed to ask.
“On his feet, recovering nicely,” Armstrong said, his face placid, showing no signs he noticed anything unusual about his superior officer’s appearance.
“Would you like something to drink, Alex Louis?” Roy said, eager for information about Hughes.
Armstrong wagged his massive head. “Thank you but no. There is little more that I can say on the matter. It’s all there in the envelope. I needn’t remind you that the information would be better off destroyed once you’ve memorized it.”
Roy snorted. “Fire consumes a multitude of sins. Don’t worry.”
Armstrong’s eyes flicked to the bedroom door, finding it open. If he wanted to ask about Riza, he didn’t have to. Roy assumed the major knew he’d never leave the door standing open if his lover was still around. “I’ll be going then, sir.”
Roy nodded. “Of course. It’s late.” He opened the door and saw Armstrong out. Roy winced hearing a yappy little dog barking. He glanced over at Mrs. Brown next door then exchanged glances with Armstrong who had the good grace to blush a little as he bustled off. Roy waved to his staring neighbor then ducked back inside. “Damn, that dog must have the world’s weakest bladder.”
He started a fire in the fireplace then got a glass of his best whiskey. He sat in his richly padded chair, feet up on the ottoman as he read Hughes’ note. Roy committed all the details to memory, including Maes’ new phone number and address to his apartment in New River, a small town between Rush Valley and Dublith. “Julien Camden? Shit, you are about as good at renaming yourself as Hawkeye is at naming dogs, old buddy.” Roy let some whiskey smoke its way down his gullet, contemplating Maes’ promise to call him when he felt it safe enough for a visit. Until then Roy would continue doing what he was doing, work, illicitly investigating Hughes’ death and lying to the people he cared about most. Sighing, he poured himself another whiskey. Come morning, Hawkeye would kick his ass for coming in to work hung over and grumpy. So be it. He was beginning to get the idea of just how big a mess Hughes had stepped in. That alone was enough to tighten his balls and make him want a drink. The Elrics were uncovering things Roy doubted they even understood the full ramifications of. For a moment, he almost envied Julien Camden his new hidden life.
Roy poured the third hit of whiskey. It was going to be a long night.
and here's another color_i_fic
Point of Fracture
Shades of Grey Series #4 Shade - Granite
D M Evans
Disclaimer - not mine, all characters belong to Hiromu Arakawa et al, Square Enix and funimition.
Rating - FRMAO (NC-17)
Time line - This corresponds with eppy 25 of the anime and ch 15 & 16 of the manga and contains spoilers for both. The story blends both anime and manga verses
Summary - Roy tries to come to grips with his loss and the surprises that come with it
Author’s Note #1 - Parts of the dialogue come directly from the manga ch 16. If you recognize it, then yeah, that’s where it comes from
Chapter One
Roy couldn’t see, even though his eyes were clear. It took so much willpower to keep them that way. His homecoming wasn’t supposed to be like this. It was supposed to be his triumph, letting everyone know that it wouldn’t be long before he became one of the people with real power, a general. It didn’t matter how many enemies he would have in Central, especially making rank that young, Roy knew he’d be all right. He had enough friends to watch his back.
Only now one of the two friends who mattered most was lying under a state flag being lowered into the ground. When the morbid sounds of dirt hitting the burnished coffin top started echoing, Roy’s legs went as insubstantial as the fog that had burned off the horizon hours ago, leaving the cold day far too beautiful for a burial. He didn’t know where the strength to keep from sinking to the ground came from, but Roy would draw from it until that well was dry.
He could hear Armstrong sobbing. Roy wished he had the strength to just let the emotions out but he knew he wouldn’t stop once he started. He felt Hawkeye’s hand just brush his elbow and he glanced back at her wet face. She managed a little smile for him that pulled together some of the fracture lines in his soul until Elicia started pleading for them not to bury her daddy, that he had too much work to do. Her innocent words gutted Roy.
He bit the inside of his lips to keep the sob firmly strangled. Roy didn’t so much remain in the cemetery as the crowd began to disperse, as he didn’t have the strength to leave it. He was shocked Riza stayed with him. This was as close to admitting they were a couple as anything they had ever done but he didn’t care. He was fractured. He always assumed he’d be the one being laid in the garden of stones while Maes grieved for him. How selfish of him to have even thought of putting this pain on another man’s shoulders.
Roy didn’t know how he managed to keep his voice even as he tried to make a lame joke about Maes’ role in Roy’s plans for presidency, trying to make it seem a little less painful. It failed miserably. There was no filling the gaping chasm in his heart. He only had two true, close friends and now one was gone while the other kept her silent vigil, not trusting his state of mind, he didn’t doubt.
And he went and made her fears worse by opening his mouth and mentioning human transformation. The bitterness and ugly truth of his words frightened her. He could see it in Riza’s sad, beautiful eyes. It terrified him because he meant it. Maes had stopped him all those years ago when he tried to bring back the Rockbells. Who would stop him now? He would gladly give Elicia back her father even if it meant his life but the harsh truth was he knew that it couldn’t work. All he would do was end up dead with a bastard creation left behind.
He still wanted to do it, actually considered it for several long moments while staring at the granite headstone. Roy summoned up images of how furious Maes would be with him if he were to do anything so stupid. It was the one thing holding him back.
“Are you all right, sir?” Hawkeye never sounded less sure.
“I’m fine,” he lied, pulling his hat back on. “It looks like....it’s starting to rain.”
“But...it’s not raining,” she replied, looking at the too-bright saffron orb hanging high against the blue.
He pointedly kept his back to her and tried his best not to let his voice betray him. Tears streamed down his cheeks. “Yes, it is. This is rain.”
“Yes, sir.”
He wished she would have dared to call him by name. Just as well she hadn’t. He would have crumbled. Hawkeye let him cry for a few moments. He didn’t know why he had to be so damn proud. He wanted to let the rain fall, a deluge to wash away his grief. Stubborn pride put a stranglehold on his emotions.
Roy wiped his face, feeling Riza’s hand coming to rest as brief as a butterfly on his back. His swollen eyes met hers. She started crying again. It was his turn for the brief comforting touch.
“Let’s get back. It’s getting cold out here.”
“Yes, sir.”
They walked back to the car, shoulder to shoulder, as couple-like as they had ever been in public, like equals instead of her trailing slightly behind him. Mustang even doubted her ability to watch for danger if something should come their way.
Roy didn’t know if he was happy or pissed off to be back at the office for the rest of the afternoon. He should be relieved to have something to occupy his mind because if he were at liberty he’d be looking for answers at the bottom of a whiskey bottle, finding only empty. But he was pissed at not being able to indulge his grief.
Instead, he threw himself into his work, plowing through all the ridiculous tedious heaps of paperwork a man of his rank had to deal with. Hawkeye had raised an eyebrow at him. Usually she had to threaten him to get him working and inform him he couldn’t toss off the stuff he didn’t want to do on his staff. She was probably wondering why he was still in his chair instead of tracing Hughes’ last steps. He had assigned her to contact some people in the position to know about the murder but until he was sure someone from command wouldn’t just pop in to survey him and his staff, he needed to sit it out. He didn’t even dare stray to the slim flask of whiskey he had hidden in his desk. Later today, he’d go alone. He wasn’t going to risk his staff.
He just wished his staff were a little less silent. The red-eyed stares he and Hawkeye sported had taken their toll. Furey, Breda, and Falman labored in dead silence. They hadn’t really known Hughes coming from the East as they had but Mustang and Hawkeye’s moods were infectious. Havoc really wasn’t doing any work; mostly he was just rolling his cigarette with his lips and staring out the window. Mustang let him be. It was bad enough when a soldier died in the line of duty but to be ambushed and murdered in a damn phone booth while he was trying to contact a friend was intolerable.
Hawkeye brought more paperwork and set it on his desk. “He’s able to meet with us,” she whispered.
Roy nodded and got up, going into his anteroom. “I have to go to the records office,” he said loudly and his staff glanced up at him, startled. “Hawkeye, you’re with me.” She followed him silently. This time out on the street, she fell back a few paces. He turned to her. “Go bring him to me, Hawkeye. Give me time. I need to check out the records office and then I’ll be at the scene of the crime. Meet me there, less eyes will be on us.”
She nodded curtly and clicked off. He wasn’t used to her in heels or a dress for that matter. He didn’t really like her in the heels. He wasn’t sensitive about his own lack of height usually - not like Fullmetal was - but there was something off putting about being the same size as your lover.
Roy walked just as briskly to the records office. The place smelled of disinfectant, having been scrubbed to get rid of the blood trail. Whatever it was that was going on had started here. What had Maes discovered? The clerk said Hughes had tried to call the president then changed his mind. That sent a chill up Roy’s spine. It suggested to him that his friend had a reason to doubt Bradley. Roy ordered the stuff Hughes had been working on to be boxed up and sent to his office. He didn’t know how long he’d have to work on the puzzle. If somehow higher ups in Command were involved, Roy suspected the stuff Hughes had been going through would be confiscated from him if the incriminating documents hadn’t already been seized.
He left the office and headed for the phone booth. The scene of the crime he had called it. What a blasé term for what had happened. It didn’t begin to cover their loss. Roy touched the glass. It was too clean, scrubbed hard to remove his friend’s blood. Maes’ blood had turned the floor of the box, the phone pedestal, and the ground around it dark. Roy’s gut flipped at the sight. It made Maes’ death more intimate. What the hell had happened to have led to this?
There was no doubts in Roy’s mind that this wasn’t random. This wasn’t some kind of mugging gone wrong. Hughes had been chased from the records office to here. Maes had died trying to warn Roy of something. The outside line...that meant only one thing. Hughes didn’t trust someone within the military. Adding that to his sudden change of heart about calling Bradley in the records office terrified Roy because he no longer had any idea who to trust outside of his hand-picked crew. Something in military command had rotted. Roy was reminded that often it was the head of the fish that stinks and wondered just how high the corruption had spread. If Hughes had been cut down, Roy suspected the answer was very high indeed.
He heard Hawkeye’s heels clacking behind him. He knew her walk, had memorized its cadence, knew each sway of her hip and how her breasts moved as her arms swung so that he didn’t even need to see her to call the image to mind. She had an easy rolling gait that allowed her to shift her weight and strike out lightning fast should the need arise. The footsteps that accompanied hers were heavy, precise.
Roy took a deep breath in and braced himself for this conversation. Armstrong was likely to cry and if he did, Roy wasn’t sure he could resist. He took a final look at the large stain left by Hughes’ blood then turned to face them.
The entire exchange left Mustang feeling sick, cold, miserable, clammy sweat trickling down his spine. Armstrong had been commanded not to speak. That told Roy volumes. High levels of command had to be involved. It wasn’t as huge as surprise as it might have been just a few weeks ago but hearing from Maes how Gran had been using Lab Five, to learn that the bastard Crimson Alchemist was still alive had been a huge clue. Those facts were the first layer of the onion that made up Command. The more he peeled, the more it stank.
His mouth started moving almost of its own accord after Hawkeye observed it wasn’t like him to mix his personal feelings with business. He didn’t mean to sound so harsh but to him Hughes was both and if anyone thought he wouldn’t do everything he could to avenge his friend, they were mistaken. Suddenly he heard himself telling her he was going after Military Command. Nothing like disengaging his brain and blurting that out in public. “Will you help me?”
Her dark eyes leveled on him. “You know there’s no need to ask.”
He wanted to grab her, hold on for life. She could have turned away from him then and there. A sane woman would but she didn’t even flinch. She would never leave him, no matter what, no matter how dangerous, Riza would be with him. He didn’t know what he had done to deserve her but he was thankful for every stolen moment they could spend together. “Thank you,” he whispered.
Her smile would have to substitute for the feel of her arms around him, no matter how much he needed them now. He wanted to fracture in her arms because he knew she could hold him together.
“We’d better get back, sir.”
He just nodded, pinching the bridge of his nose to fight back the emotions. “This is going to be so hard.”
“I know,” she said softly.
Mustang gulped for air and regained his control. He let his anger filter back in. It pushed out the sadness for a little while at least. He didn’t want to go back to his office. He just wanted to go home and collapse but he couldn’t, not yet. Hell, he had for find out where the Elrics had gone off to on top of everything. They needed someone to look after them. Mature or not, they were still boys and they had very powerful enemies. Wherever they were, he knew they must be ignorant of Hughes’ death. He couldn’t see them not being here otherwise. He needed to find them before something ugly did. Roy tried to quiet the chaos in his mind as he went back into his office and failed miserably.
Chapter Two
Whiskey burned. If someone were to distill his essence, Mustang knew he’d be whiskey; smoky, fiery, dangerous. Roy nearly knocked his glass over with numb fingers reaching for it. He had finally made his way to the home he kept in Central. It was a little garden cottage kept for him by the widower of an alchemist Roy had once trained with under Cinzia’s direction. The old man kept the cottage for Roy without Mustang’s name being on the books anywhere. Roy hadn’t wanted to look presumptuous about his chances at being recalled to Central. Mr. Hill hadn’t wanted any payment for keeping the house for Mustang, but Roy supplied some any how.
He drew all the curtains and turned on the radio to his favorite station. Roy had torn off his uniform, uncustomarily leaving it on the bedroom floor and pulled on old worn pants. He didn’t even pull on a shirt over his undershirt. Without even bothering to light a fire to take the chill out of the living room, he had collapsed in his chair and started drinking. Roy felt so much like his father at that moment, it sickened him. What did it matter that he drank expensive whiskey instead of cheap corn mash or that his radio station was tuned to symphonies rather than the insipid shows his father liked? Right now, slowly getting drunk off his ass, he was more like a Mustang than he had ever been.
Someone knocked on the front door. Roy tried to ignore it but the person wasn’t going to allow that. He pretty much could guess who it would be. Very few people knew he kept this cottage and most of them wouldn’t attempt to come here. It was probably Mr. Hill checking up on him, knowing about the funeral. Roy managed to get up and padded barefoot in an uneven arc across the cold wood flooring. For a moment, he had no idea who the woman was on his door step with her long dark hair sticking out from under her hood. It wasn’t until the third blurry look that he realized it was Riza.
“What are you doing here?” She never came to his home or he to hers. They didn’t dare get caught fraternizing. More often than not back when they had been in Central, they’d meet at Hughes’ place under the pretense of mutual friendship with the Hugheses. Gracia and Maes were well aware of each and every tryst. It was a little embarrassing but at least it didn’t feel cheap like the low rent hotels out East. His best friend had been a bridge to his lover; yet another hole left inside of him.
“What do you think?” She pushed past him. Her voice was softer than her stance.
“You shouldn’t be here,” he growled, afraid for her, afraid for him. Why did love have to be so hard?
“Forget the military for a minute, Roy. I don’t care if someone knows I’m here,” she lied, pulling off the dark wig. “You shouldn’t be alone. I don’t want to be either. I cared about Hughes, too.” Riza’s voice shook as she reached for Roy.
He locked the door behind her, skirting away from her hands. “You shouldn’t see me like this,” he growled, shaking his head. His face flushed in embarrassment at her seeing him this sloppy.
“I’ve seen you drunk before. You need me tonight.” Riza caught his hand but he skinned away.
“Not like this. I feel...so dangerous, Riza. I don’t want you to see this side of me.” Shame dragged his head down.
“I love you. I can handle all sides.” Riza grabbed his arm firmly and guided him over the patterned floor to the other room. If one peeled back the throw rugs, they’d see the arrays Roy had painted on his flooring. His home was a weapon. She forced him down on the red leather couch and sat next to him. She barely had time to toss her arms around him before a heart rending sob tore free of Roy. Riza tucked her chin against his soft hair. “You don’t have to keep it in any more. Just let it go.” She stroked his back.
Roy dissolved against her, crying until his throat was raw, his face wet with tears and snot. Roy sat back, covering his face. “You shouldn’t see me like this.”
Riza wiped her own eyes then reached into his pocket to pull out his handkerchief. She pressed it into his hand.
Roy blotted his face. “Thanks,” he muttered. “I’m sorry.”
“For what? Being human? Missing your friend?” She brushed his hair back. “You never have to be embarrassed with me.”
He met her big eyes. “That’s not what you said in New River.”
“Being overly male and stupid is excluded from the above statement.” She kissed him.
“I had to call Maes to come rescue me.” Roy smiled faintly at the memory.
“Damn straight. You knew better than to call me.” Riza tapped his nose. “Whatever made you think you could taken on three women at once...you deserved to be handcuffed to the bed and robbed.”
“I’m just impressed I was able to drag the bed to the phone.” Roy choked back a laugh then broke down again. “Oh damn, I’m going to miss him so much.”
“So will I.” She nestled her cheek against his chest. “I know how much Maes meant to you. I know how he saved you from yourself time and again.”
Roy gasped for breath, pushing her away just a bit. “You knew that he...”
“Kept you from trying human transformation years ago?” She brushed his hair back then stroked his cheek. “Yes. That he picked you up after every time you tried to hurt yourself, to punish yourself for your past? Yes. He told me that, too.” Riza might not like that he sometimes turned to anonymous lovers, that he used them to hurt himself but she could forgive him, knowing the demons inside his head.
Roy wiped his eyes. “I didn’t want...” He swallowed hard. His throat ached. “You shouldn’t...”
“He wanted me to know. Maes knew how I love you, that I’d do anything for you.” She brushed his hair back off his forehead again. “He wanted to be sure there was someone to watch over you.”
“I don’t deserve either of you,” he whimpered.
Riza embraced him even more tightly, pressing her lips to his wet cheek. “Never say that. You are a good man, Roy. Just look at how you take care of your men or how you try to look out for the brothers, even if Edward makes that hard. I know he doesn’t appreciate it but he’s just a child. He doesn’t understand yet.”
“I know,” Roy said, weakly.
She pressed back against the buttery leather of the couch, pulling him against her. “I would not love you against all reason if you were not a good person. I do not suffer fools lightly.”
Roy sighed. “I’ve never understood why you’d want to break the rules to be with me.”
“I’m in your orbit. I couldn’t break free if I wanted to, which I don’t.” She leaned against his shoulder, snuggling her cheek into the crook of his neck.
He caressed her hand. “I need you so much.”
Hawkeye hugged him tighter. He knew she had never heard him so needy, so demonstrative with his feelings. They had to be so careful, so reserved and he was just drunk enough to not care. His pride was gone, washed away in the whiskey. He didn’t need to hide from Riza. She was the one person who he could be himself with. There were days that he wished he could have the bravery of the Crystal Alchemist and go into hiding, doing something good with his alchemy. Forget the military, forget his ambition. Be there for the people, marry Riza, raise a little family. It was a pleasant daydream. Then reality always crashed in. The alchemy he was best at was destructive. He and Hawkeye knew they had important roles to play right where they were. They weren’t going anywhere.
“I need you so much. I’m lost, love, I’m lost,” he mewled.
Riza wrapped herself around him, petting him, kissing him, feeling him relaxing against her in small measures. His desperation and sorrow seemed to ebb, replaced with raw need. His warmth bled through his clothing, igniting Riza’s own needs. She rocked against him, crawling into his lap. Roy fought with her clothing, too distraught to get anywhere. His cock ached between his legs. He needed to be in her.
He held onto her back as he stood. Riza wrapped her legs around him as he carried her to the bedroom. She was surprised when he tossed her on the bed rather unceremoniously. She almost bounced into one of the ornate posts. He was on top of her fast, shoving her shirt up. Her bra barely stopped him as he yanked on it. There was no passion here. For the first time ever, he made her nervous.
“Roy, slow down,” she said, trying to get her bra off before it cut into her flesh.
He grunted, tearing at his belt. He roughly opened it and yanked his pants down, Roy snared his fingers in her belt loops, ripping her pants down over her hips. He swarmed on top of her, forcing her legs open.
“Roy, you know better.” She pointed to the night stand. “Sheepskin!”
Roy rolled away from her and yanked the drawer open so hard it nearly pulled out of the stand.
“Roy, you’re in such a mood. Maybe we shouldn’t,” she said, as he sheathed himself in one jerky motion. Before she knew what he was doing, Roy flipped her on her belly and was inside her before she was ready. “Roy! Stop! You’re hurting me.” She elbowed him in the chest. “Roy!”
At the sharpness of her voice, his face changed, horror shining from his eyes. He got off her with a strangled cry. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” The words barely made it past his tight throat. He propelled himself off the bed and she knew he was going to run.
She caught his arm, pulling him back onto the black and cinnabar patterned bedspread. “Roy, it’s okay, baby. I know you’re a mess.”
He flopped back, crossing his arms over his face. A ragged moan tore out of him. “I didn’t know...he’s in me! I never thought he could be.”
“He who?” She rubbed his chest. “Your father? Oh, no Roy, you’re not like him. You’re nothing like that. You’re a good man. You just drank too much and you’re in so much pain tonight.”
He flinched away from her, his voice sharper than broken glass. “No excuses! I don’t want to be him. I never wanted to hurt you.”
Riza peeled his arms away from his face and kissed him. “You’re not your father, Roy. I know your heart...you’ve never done anything like tonight before. It’s not you. It’s the grief.” She pressed her lips against the hollow of his neck. She didn’t know why she was so forgiving other than she knew that Roy wasn’t a violent man, had never been, not with her. “I forgive you this time.”
Roy’s eyes screwed shut, tears leaking down his face. She reached down and stripped the prophylactic off his now-unaroused cock and pitched it. She gathered him up in her arms, pillowing him against her.
Roy wept softly for a little while then murmured, “How can I still have tears?
“Just let it all out.” Riza stroked his soft hair. “You don’t want to suppress all of this.”
His arms constricted around her. “You’re too good to me.”
“Didn’t we already have this conversation? I love you and you deserve it,” Riza said, fluttering kisses over his face.
Roy settled, falling silent, no tears, no words. She just rocked him until his eyes began to shut. Riza slid a hand up his thigh, watching his testicles draw up. She fondled his balls gently.
“Riza,” he murmured, his eyes opening in surprise.
“Yes?” She smiled softly as she kneaded his flesh.
“You shouldn’t...”
“Your razor’s edge is gone,” she interrupted. “I need you as much as you need me tonight.” She shifted her hand to his shaft, stroking him long and languidly, feeling him hardening. His mouth found hers as he slipped a hand between her legs. His fingers toyed with her gently. This was the man she knew best, not the angry creature from earlier.
Roy sighed against the skin of her shoulder. No matter what she said she was too good to him. He loved her more than he knew how to tell her. She was the only bright spot left in his life. He kissed his way down to the soft skin of her chest until he found one perked, waiting nipple. He rolled his tongue over it, feeling the little bud of flesh hardening more under the warmth of his mouth. Riza stroked his hair as he sucked on her. He rubbed against her, the head of his cock moving along her thigh. He moaned as her fingers reached down, closing over him. Riza made him lay back.
“I love the way you feel,” she said as she rolled his penis between her hands. Riza moved so she could trace around the head of his cock. She flicked away the pearls of moisture with her tongue then nibbled gently on his foreskin. He groaned softly. “You like when I tease you, don’t you?” She smiled.
“Love everything you do,” he replied, his breathing ragged.
“Like this for instance?” Riza swallowed him down deep.
Roy didn’t even try to hold back the soft sounds of his delight. He fought the urge to pump his hips, driving into her mouth. He knew she didn’t like that. She liked being in control. He enjoyed letting her have his reins. After how horrible he’d been tonight, Roy knew he was lucky she hadn’t just walked out the door. He loved her so much. When his head was back on straight, he’d have to do something to apologize properly. Thinking right wasn’t going to happen tonight even without the wondrous things her tongue and lips were doing to him.
“Riza, I’m going...” he rasped out the warning.
She let him pop free of her mouth and applied a little pressure, just under the head of his penis. “Not yet.” Her hand moved from his cock to his cheek, letting him catch his breath. She traced the bow of his lip. Roy turned his head sucking her fingers in. She grinned and let him play for a while then leaned over to get another prophylactic out of the drawer.
Riza slipped it over him then ran a finger through his coarse raven curls. Roy whimpered, pleading with his eyes. The teasing felt good but he needed more. Riza slipped him into her. Warm and wet, he could get lost in her. For brief moments, he did just that, only aware of the rhythm of their bodies in motion. The way they fit together pushed all his pain deep into the recesses of his mind. The slow way she made love to him did make him feel more ashamed of what he had done earlier.
He put his hands on her hips and eased her over to the bed with him. Roy rolled up onto one arm, trailing a hand over her belly, feeling her flesh quiver under his touch. “May I?” He didn’t know what he’d do if she said no. She simply pulled him on top of her. Roy pumped into her slow at first, unsure of himself. At all the little kisses and touches she gifted him with, he picked up his speed until they were crashing together, lightning to water. Her sharp cries sang in time to the creak of the bed.
His neck arched back as he emptied into the sheepskin. Roy collapsed down against her, his chest heaving, moving slickly over hers. Riza crossed her legs over him, smoothing a hand over his cheek. “Stay,” she whispered. Roy didn’t disagree, staying as close to her as he could for as long as he could before finally tossing out the prophylactic and dropping off in the warmth of her embrace.
X X X
Someone pounding on the door dragged Roy and Riza out of their deep slumber. Roy rubbed his eyes, his hair in his face.
“Who in the hell could this be?” His deep voice grated, rough with sleep.
“Sounds like someone desperate. Better get out there before the door comes down.” Riza kissed his shoulder blade as he sat up, then she rolled over.
Roy didn’t have to look back to know she was getting the gun out of his bed stand. He fumbled around and found his boxers; silk. He might have to wear wool pants all day but he’d be damned if he’d wear scratchy regulation underpants unless out on a mission. He didn’t try to find his robe. It was nearly three in the morning. Whoever it was could just live with the fact that he was almost naked and half asleep.
Mustang was so stunned to see Armstrong standing there when he opened the door that he couldn’t speak for a moment. “Alex Louis? What’s wrong?” Roy managed to rasp out, regretting now his choice to forgo pants.
“There’s something you need to know, Colonel, something that has to remain just between us and the people in there.” Armstrong stepped aside and pointed to the ambulance parked on the street. If the other alchemist noticed Roy was nearly naked, he gave no sign.
“What’s going on?” Roy eyed the ambulance in surprise.
Armstrong’s eyes swept the darkened street and he determined it still wasn’t covert enough. “We’ll talk inside the vehicle.”
Mustang gave him a sour look then padded barefoot to the ambulance. Armstrong opened the back to reveal Maria Ross sitting next to a gurney, her gun out and trained on the door. She holstered it seeing Armstrong. Denny Brosh glanced back at them from the driver’s seat. Mustang blushed a bit, not ready for half his men to see him like this. Roy’s eyes canted toward the gurney and the dark-haired man lying on it. Oxygen tubing ran from his nose to the tank at the head of the gurney. IV’s hung from a tree, the fluids contained in their glassy depths seeming ominous in the pale dome light of the ambulance.
The man’s skin was so pale Roy could see threads of blue cutting through it. The glasses were missing but Roy knew who this was, even if it was impossible, and the realization nearly took his legs out from under him. Roy felt Armstrong’s huge hand on his back, steadying him. He sprang inside the vehicle and Maria gave up her seat next to the gurney. Roy fell into it, scrambling for the man’s icy hand. “Maes,” he said before all conscious thought left him.
“You look...” Hughes wet his cracked lips. “Like hell.”
“I buried my best friend today.” Tears leaked out of the corners of Roy’s eyes. His emotions were going too many directions at once. “I’m allowed.”
“And you...smell....whiskey.” Hughes managed a smile, panting a little for breath.
“Yeah well, I got a little drunk. You save your breath.” Roy looked over at Armstrong, trying to regain his control. He could barely think. How could this be happening?. “What the hell is going on?” He rubbed Hughes’ hand trying to warm it.
“It happened almost like the official report, sir only...” Armstrong waved a hand at Hughes.
“I saw Lieutenant Colonel Hughes running from the building bleeding and I followed him only to see myself catch up to him at a phone booth. I was too stunned to do anything...then I watched myself change....” Maria shuddered.
“Into Gracia,” Hughes said, his eyes screwing shut.
Roy tucked the cool hand he had grabbed back under the blanket then touched Hughes’ shoulder. “What?”
“Homuculus,” Hughes replied, his citrine eyes opening again.
Roy shook his head. It was too much. Homunculi, fake funerals and seeing Hughes here. “That’s not possible. They’re myth.”
“Lab Five.” Hughes broke off, struggling to breathe.
“The Elrics encountered the homunculi in Lab Five,” Armstrong took up the tale since Hughes was in no condition for long explanations. “It appears they are not myth and at least this one can look like anyone it wants.”
“And you knew this.” Roy looked between the two men, feeling his temper getting the better of him. “Damn it, why didn’t anyone tell me?”
“Because you were...East,” Hughes said, sweat starting to bead on his upper lip as the effort wore on him.
“The Lieutenant Colonel was trying to keep it under wraps until we had more time to investigate what was happening,” Armstrong replied. “And you were out East and there would have been nothing you could have done to keep the Elrics safe from there.”
“Still should have told me,” Roy growled, wondering how things had spun so far out of control.
“More to tell you,” Hughes said. “When I’m stronger...”
“Does Armstrong know?” Roy glanced between them again. He didn’t want to wait on information. Hughes wasn’t out of the woods yet. What if something happened to him?
“No one...” Hughes’ eyes fluttered shut.
“We’ll take good care of him,” Maria promised, her dark eyes sad. “When I went to help him, the Lieutenant Colonel told me he didn’t trust military hospitals. I got him to the closet private one. Major Armstrong helped.”
“That’s one good thing about having a long family line, isn’t Alex Louis? Lots of connections but to let us think he was dead...” Roy shuddered, memories of the funeral bubbling back up.
“Had to,” Hughes said. “They need to think...I’m gone. You can’t tell anyone.”
“Does Gracia know?” Roy asked, eyes huge at the image of her trauma when this all came out.
“Can’t tell her, Roy, promise.” Hughes tried to take Roy’s hand but couldn’t get his out from under the covers.
“I...hate this but yes, of course. You’re dead. If you think the military is behind this and you do, don’t you?” Roy asked and Hughes nodded. “Then you need to stay dead. What happens now?”
“Second Lieutenant Ross and Brosh and I are transporting the Lieutenant Colonel out of town so he can recuperate without anyone knowing that he survived his wounds,” Armstrong said.
“Where?” Roy asked, still unable to process it all.
“Can’t say yet,” Hughes said. “Will tell you new name and location...later. Best I deal with Armstrong...they’ll be watching you.” He shut his eyes wearily. He shivered violently. Roy knew the pain and blood loss were catching up to his friend.
“Yes, they will. I’ll make sure of it. I’ll draw the fire away from Armstrong. I’ll investigate your death even if I’ve been told to back off. They’ll be expecting it,” Roy replied, looking around the ambulance frantically. He wanted to pace, to let the nervous energy out and he couldn’t. “Do you need to take him now?”
“We should get going,” Maria said, looking up at Denny, who nodded and turned over the engine.
“You take care, Maes. I’ve buried you once. I won’t make it through doing it again,” Roy said, trying to smile.
Hughes tried to catch his hand again so Roy met him half way. “She’s here, isn’t she?”
“Who?” Roy asked, his eyes canting over to Maria and Armstrong who probably could guess he had an illicit lover but he wasn’t sure of it. Brosh probably could see that too from his obstructed-view seat behind the wheel.
“She left...her mark on your chest.” Hughes managed a grin.
“What?” Roy glanced down and saw the love bite just above his left nipple. “Oh, damn. Yes, she’s here.”
Hughes’ face went grim. “Can’t tell her.”
“I won’t...going to have to make up a lie for right now but I can handle it.” Roy squeezed Hughes’ hand then stood up. “I can’t say...I wanted to try and bring you back.”
“Stupid, freak.” Hughes shook his head. “Glad you came outside...properly dressed.”
“You woke me up. We’re all lucky I’m wearing anything,” Roy grumbled, very self conscious now that the shock had worn off.
“We’re...grateful.” Hughes made a soft sound that might have been a laugh before it dissolved into pain. His hand went to his chest.
Roy could only imagine what the wounds looked like. His friend might still die from complications but he refused to think on it. “Goodbye, Maes. I’ll watch over your family for you.”
“I know.” The relief was evidence in Hughes’ voice.
Roy jumped out of the ambulance before he started crying again and staggered up the walk. Armstrong followed him. “Take care of him, Armstrong.”
“Of course.” Armstrong swept Roy up in a tight embrace, much to the smaller man’s chagrin. “I know he would have done this if he had the strength.”
Roy decided instantly he liked Armstrong’s demonstrative nature when it was directed at people who weren’t him. He wiggled free. “Yeah.” It was then he heard a noise and looked over to see old Mrs. Brown standing outside with her little dog on a leash doing its business. He smiled at her, too embarrassed to do anything else, like dart for cover. “Out late, aren’t you, Mrs. Brown?”
Her eyes just flicked to his mostly naked state and then to Armstrong and the old woman said nothing. Roy just kept on smiling like an idiot as he left Armstrong on the sidewalk and stalked back into his house. Riza was on the porch, gun in hand.
“Why was Armstrong hugging you?” she asked, backing up.
“He’s still upset after the funeral. You know how emotional he is,” Roy said, locking his front door. “But on the upside my neighbors think my illicit lover is Alex Louis.”
Riza choked back a laugh. “Sorry, that’s not funny, I know, but that has to be like getting buggered by a draft horse!”
“Riza!” Roy stared at her incredulously, trying very hard not to picture that scenario.
She sobered. “But what did he want at this hour? And what’s with the ambulance?”
“He’s undercover for Investigations. I didn’t press him on it. Sorry. And I couldn’t let him know you were here, of course,” Roy said, trying to push past her. “I’d like to not talk about it, Riza.”
She gave him a curious look. “I know you aren’t telling me everything.”
“I’ve told you what I can. You know what Investigations is like, all secrecy. Please...you’ll have to leave soon. I just want to go back to bed,” Roy said, too weary to think any more.
She took his hand and dragged him back into the bedroom. “I have tomorrow off. I’m staying all day. Almost no one knows where you even live and those who do don’t care if I’m here. Let’s just stay in.”
“I...” He pulled her to him, feeling the butt of her gun digging into his shoulder as she embraced him. “Don’t leave me.”
“I won’t.” Riza set the gun aside and led him back into bed. Tired as he was, sleep was the last thing on Roy’s mind.
Chapter Three
Roy dragged to consciousness very slowly, his cheek cushioned against soft hair. He pressed a kiss into the hair then realized something was very wrong. He sat up, sputtering. His head throbbed with hangover drums but not too badly. Black Hayate glanced at him when the pressure of Roy’s face lifted. “Weren’t you a beautiful woman just a few hours ago?” he groaned, scrubbed a hand through the dog’s thick fur. Hayate’s curled tailed wagged, dragging over Roy’s face. The man sneezed. “Where did you come from and why did she allow you in my bed?”
Roy rolled out of bed and flipped the cinnabar and black bedspread back over the mattress covering up Hayate, who didn’t seem to mind. He padded over to the black bedroom curtains then decided to leave them drawn. It wouldn’t do to let the neighbors catch a glimpse of Riza, just in case. After taking care of his business in the master bath, Roy went to look for his lover, not bothering to pull on more than his boxers.
They had never been in the same place all night and day before, barring missions which hardly counted. She had apparently opted for the same level of caution he had. All the living room curtains were drawn and a little stack of wood had been built in the fireplace waiting for him to wake up and help chase away with morning chill. It was still blustery outside. He could hear the wind against the house. Riza had a fragrant cup of tea in one hand - apparently having helped herself to the finest stuff he had gotten from a Xing trader - and one of his books off the shelf in the other hand. He grimaced, seeing she had found one of the works of fiction, an indulgence of his love of scaring himself with ghost stories.
He leaned over the back of the black leather chaise lounge and kissed her cheek. “Morning.”
“That’s nice.” She reached back and ruffled his hair.
“Better than my first kiss today. Too furry.” He smiled then dragged one of his pie-shaped ottomans over from the four piece circle of red leather ottomans. He sat in front of her, grinning like an errant boy. He knew he should at least look as hangover-ridden as he felt or she’d suspect something but he couldn’t help it. He knew his friend wasn’t really dead and he was getting to spend a day with the woman he loved. He’d just have to convince Riza she was entirely responsible for his lifted spirts. “Why did you let Hayate in my bed...and where did he come from?”
“I figured if I was going to spend the day, I’d better go bring him here. You were sound asleep. I decided you needed the rest.” Riza smiled at him.
He leaned forward, pillowing his cheek on her warm thigh. She stroked his hair. “This is our first real morning together,” he said.
“I know.”
Her hand stilled on his head. Roy sat up and they both looked at each other for several long moments. Roy felt so odd, so out of place. They had never been here before when it wasn’t business and suddenly he didn’t know what to say to her.
“Why does it feel awkward?” she asked, finally.
“I was about to ask you that...we never really have the chance to just relax and enjoy each other. I don’t think we know how.” Roy’s nose wrinkled. “Maybe I should...just start the fire or something.”
“This is really sad.” Riza shook her head. “I could make breakfast for us.”
“That sounds good.” Roy put a hand on the array that was on the carved wooden mantle piece and the fire blazed. He watched Riza leave the room. His eyes raked over the living room. Why did he keep this place? Sometimes he wondered, looking at all the furniture. He had a red leather couch and an overstuffed black leather cigar chair in addition to the lounge and ottoman. All this furniture in a place most people didn’t know he had. He didn’t really have that many friends. Who was he trying to impress with leather furniture and tables with their sweeping cabriole legs designed to look like golden vines, clawed feet and marble tops? He was a soldier who had to move often. It was pure vanity to keep a place he could be assigned away from at any moment and he had been, for far too long but he still paid for this home even if he couldn’t live in it.
There was very few he could invite in to use his little bar with the black stone top dotted with fossilized leaves. No, this place was a monument to his ego and thinking about it and his utter failure with Riza just a few moments before helped crash his mood to where it should be for a man who the world thought had just buried his best friend. He knew exactly why he kept this house. It wasn’t really even vanity. It was to say to himself he was better than his beginnings. He had become something, a man of taste and refinement instead of a broken creature from a mill, old before his time or worse, a used up prostitute that his father tried to turn him into. He had become an arrogant, indulgent brat.
“Roy!” The irritated tone to Riza’s voice surprised him.
Roy headed for the kitchen. “Yeah?”
“This is all you have for breakfast.” She shook some shriveled grapes at him. “Is this why you’re so thin? You don’t eat?”
“I’m not thin. I’m wiry,” Roy protested and got the evil eye in return. “I don’t live here any more. I just moved back. There’s not much in the larder. I can run to the market.”
“I think you’ll have to if we plan on staying in all day. Here, have a grape.” She flicked one at him.
He ducked and Hayate swooped in from nowhere to scarf it up. “I’ll call my grocer and my butcher. They deliver. It’ll take an hour or two.”
“I think we can find ways of occupying ourselves until then,” she said then propelled him to the phone.
She left him to make his call. Roy put in orders for staples, some fresh fruits and vegetables and some prime cuts of beef for later. He went back to the living room to see Riza peering into the leaded glass curio shelves that were part of the mantle piece, looking at the strange assortment of bric-a-brac he had in there.
“I always like to see if you’ve added anything,” she said as he ran his hand over her back.
“Just a little glass piece from out east this time,” he replied, pointing it out.
“I remember you eyeing that up in the store.” Riza looked at him, then reached out to ruffle his hair. “I never pictured you being this casual in the morning. I didn’t ask and I should have, how are you feeling now?”
Roy tried to smooth down his hair, which he knew was still sticking up all over even without her assistance. Riza was right, she had never seen him this casual. “I’m okay, well, not okay but you know what I mean. I’m hung over a little and I’m sad but...I’ll be okay. How about you?”
“Okay. Armstrong didn’t cry all over me in public.” She smiled softly.
“Old Mrs. Brown saw,” Roy said with a pout.
Riza stroked his hair. “The poor woman will never be the same.”
“I’m not sure I’ll be either.” He managed a little smile, capturing her hand to drop a kiss into it.
“I’m sure being hugged by Strongarm while wearing nothing but your silk undies could be scarring.” Riza couldn’t help herself. A little laugh bubbled out of her.
“Better convince me hugging you is better than him.” Roy pressed her back against the warm wall next to the mantle, rubbing said silk boxers against her.
“Convince you?” Riza kissed him. “I think you’re convincing yourself pretty well without me.”
Roy nuzzled her neck, his burgeoning erection tucking against her belly. “This has everything to do with you, trust me.”
Riza mumbled something that might have been, ‘I do,’ as their lips met and their tongues fenced. Roy slipped a hand inside her trousers, feel the warm wetness against his questing fingers. Riza moaned into his mouth as he teased her. Suddenly, he stopped.
“What’s wrong,” she asked, rubbing herself against him.
A little frown kissed his lips. “The dog’s watching.”
She snorted, rubbing the silk over his erection. “Hayate’s behind you. You can’t even see him.”
“I can feel his eyes. I can’t do this while the dog’s watching,” Roy moaned, resting his forehead on her shoulder. His face had become a ruby.
She ran a hand over his cheek. “You get shy over the strangest things, do you know what?”
He kissed her neck. “Sorry.”
“Hayate, go. Shoo.” Riza waved a hand at her pet. Hayate cocked his head then trotted towards the kitchen. “Better?”
“Immensely.” Roy sank to his knees in front of her, kissing her belly. “I wanted to make it up to you for being such an ass yesterday.”
Her eyes clouded. “Roy, you don’t have...”
“But I’m not getting off to a good start between Hayate and not having any food.” Roy ignored her protest, sliding her pants down. “I guess I’ll need to be more creative.” His lips and tongue danced over her dewy flowery folds.
Riza sighed, one hand balancing herself on the wall and the other toying with his hair. “That’s perfect.”
X X X
“This is so beautiful,” Riza purred, snuggling against Roy’s chest. They were both stretched out on the couch listening to the radio, glasses of wine in hand. Hayate was curled up in a jumble over their legs. A plate of cheeses, fruits and breads was on the marble coffee top.
“It’s the piano concerto in D minor by Fadden played by the Lidelphian Orchestra,” Roy said, his fingers idly stroking her arm.
“Lidelphia, I know it’s considered one of the homes of music and theater, have you ever been there?” Riza nestled in tighter.
“Once, I used to live there with my teacher. It was beautiful. I could live there forever, I think.” Roy sighed. “The Ravensdales got me started on this music. Cinzia made sure I got a real appreciation for it and for cooking, in spite of what my kitchen looked like this morning.”
Riza rubbed her belly. “You more than proved that with dinner. It’ll be hours before I can even move.”
Roy laughed. “Glad you liked it.” He reached around her and plucked a sweet, wine-soaked strawberry out of the bowl and pressed it against her lips. Riza obligingly ate it. He loved watching her lips part just so to take in the succulent food. He’d need to watch himself. He was a little full-bellied, too, to be thinking with his loins but the desire was there.
Riza looped her fingers in his, pressing her lips to his knuckles. Roy was surprised when something like light rain started hitting his skin. He caught her shoulders, turning her slightly. Her eyes were tightly shut, lashes fringed with tears.
“Riza, what’s wrong?”
“I don’t want this night to end.” She looked up at him with swimming brown eyes. “I want to stay like this always, me and you, together, in our house, with our dog, having our hearts free. I don’t want to go home by myself.”
Roy’s lips trembled. He kissed her forehead. “I want that, too, Riza. More than you know. Sometimes, when Hughes would be bragging about his prefect life with Gracia and Elicia, I wouldn’t have to fake being angry, like we’d do so people would think his calls were mere annoyances instead of covert messages. I would be upset because I wanted it, too, with you.”
Riza put her cheek in the palm of his hand. “I know you can’t resign. I know what you want, Roy, and why you want it. You don’t want the power for power’s sake. You want to make things better. Maybe you’re a naive fool to think it can be done but I still think it’s a worthy cause.”
“And from the beginning I knew how much attaining your own goals meant to you. I would never ask you to resign.” Roy stroked her hair. “ But if you wanted to, I’d support you. You could do anything you wanted. With your talents, you could do anything. The police force in town would be lucky to get you, if you wanted to use your skills for something like that. Even if you resigned, I couldn’t see you as a stay at home mother like Gracia.”
Riza made a bitter sound. “Probably not.” She sighed, turning to face him. “You need me where I am right now, Roy. I know that. You have those boys to look out for. You can’t do that on your own and now....now that someone’s taken Hughes, you need me more than ever. If we’re right and the enemy is someone in Military Command then I could never leave my post. You need me too much. If I resigned and you were the next one targeted, I’d never forgive myself.”
Roy scooped her closer, shifting on the couch, displacing Hayate. He let Riza stretch out on his body. “It’s always going to be your choice, Riza. I want you by my side either as we are now or as something new.”
She hugged him, listening to his heart beat. “I’ll stay for now. I don’t have to go home yet, do I?”
“It’s still early.”
“Then just hold me,” she ordered and he obeyed.
X X X
Roy lifted his head from the pillows, not sure what that sound was. Oh, someone at the door. Roy looked at the clock and saw it was very late. He wondered who it could be. In the last few weeks since the funeral, he had sunk back into his usual routine, work, home, work, fret over the Elrics, work, sneak time with Riza, work and do anything but think about Hughes’ ‘death.’ Another three in the morning visit upset that routine.
Roy swung out of bed, and this time he took the few moments required to locate his robe. He padded barefoot to the door, his static glove tucked into his robe’s pocket. He opened the door and was surprised once more to see Armstrong. He took a step back. “Major?”
Armstrong glanced around then stepped inside. He reached into his jacket and pulled out an envelope. “From our mutual friend.”
Roy took it, his hand gliding into the silk pocket of his robe with it. If he were going to get more visits from soldiers in the middle of the night, maybe he’d need a robe other than the Xingenese silk one, black with red flames, that Jenna had sent for his birthday one year. He felt like an idiot. “How’s he doing?” Roy managed to ask.
“On his feet, recovering nicely,” Armstrong said, his face placid, showing no signs he noticed anything unusual about his superior officer’s appearance.
“Would you like something to drink, Alex Louis?” Roy said, eager for information about Hughes.
Armstrong wagged his massive head. “Thank you but no. There is little more that I can say on the matter. It’s all there in the envelope. I needn’t remind you that the information would be better off destroyed once you’ve memorized it.”
Roy snorted. “Fire consumes a multitude of sins. Don’t worry.”
Armstrong’s eyes flicked to the bedroom door, finding it open. If he wanted to ask about Riza, he didn’t have to. Roy assumed the major knew he’d never leave the door standing open if his lover was still around. “I’ll be going then, sir.”
Roy nodded. “Of course. It’s late.” He opened the door and saw Armstrong out. Roy winced hearing a yappy little dog barking. He glanced over at Mrs. Brown next door then exchanged glances with Armstrong who had the good grace to blush a little as he bustled off. Roy waved to his staring neighbor then ducked back inside. “Damn, that dog must have the world’s weakest bladder.”
He started a fire in the fireplace then got a glass of his best whiskey. He sat in his richly padded chair, feet up on the ottoman as he read Hughes’ note. Roy committed all the details to memory, including Maes’ new phone number and address to his apartment in New River, a small town between Rush Valley and Dublith. “Julien Camden? Shit, you are about as good at renaming yourself as Hawkeye is at naming dogs, old buddy.” Roy let some whiskey smoke its way down his gullet, contemplating Maes’ promise to call him when he felt it safe enough for a visit. Until then Roy would continue doing what he was doing, work, illicitly investigating Hughes’ death and lying to the people he cared about most. Sighing, he poured himself another whiskey. Come morning, Hawkeye would kick his ass for coming in to work hung over and grumpy. So be it. He was beginning to get the idea of just how big a mess Hughes had stepped in. That alone was enough to tighten his balls and make him want a drink. The Elrics were uncovering things Roy doubted they even understood the full ramifications of. For a moment, he almost envied Julien Camden his new hidden life.
Roy poured the third hit of whiskey. It was going to be a long night.
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Date: 2006-03-08 09:59 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-03-08 02:18 pm (UTC)