Okay, now that that's over with… this story takes place after the events in chapter 100, and assumes that Roy and Riza make it out of their situation alive. And that's where I begin. Riza is currently unconscious from the wounds she received in chapter 100.

The keys jangled in Roy's shaking hand as he unlocked the door to his apartment. The door finally gave way, and Roy stumbled into the living room with Riza bleeding her life away in his arms. The doctors of Central were unavailable thanks to a radio message sent out across the city. Feeling abandoned and sick with worry, he realized that Riza's life was in his hands now. He carried her slack form to the bath in stricken silence, panic washing over him in waves.

He turned the tap until hot water rushed out, slowly filling the tub. Turning back to Riza, he gulped down his anxiety as he started to undress her. Her shirt clung to her, sticky with blood. His hands and mind were numb.

Roy gently lowered Riza into the bath, and a light moan escaped her lips, her wounds stinging as they came into contact with the water. He watched it wash across her body, cleansing away the hurt and the pain. In an instant it turned red, stained with her suffering; suffering that had become his as well.

Miserable and detached from reality, Roy cleaned Riza's wounds and wrapped her in a thick towel. She still hadn't awoken. Roy didn't know if he should be relieved that she slept so soundly through such an intimate moment or if he should be concerned that she wouldn't wake up at all.

With this sobering thought, he carried her once again out of the washroom, taking her to his bedroom to rest.

How ironic. Roy had never once brought a woman to his bed before. Anytime he was with a woman, he'd always insist on going to their home to make it easier to get up and walk away after everything was said and done. But now, with Riza… her naked body lying on the bed was beautiful and vulnerable, but Roy had other things on his mind. How utterly, stupidly ironic. Shuffling through the nearby cabinet, Roy pulled out a roll of gauze and returned to Riza's side.

Once finished, Roy examined his work. There was slight excess bleeding coming from the wound on Riza's neck, but he was confident that he had suppressed the bleeding enough to keep from endangering her life. He sat down heavily on the bed, never taking his eyes off of his lieutenant. Entranced, Roy leaned in closer.

He lightly kissed the base of her throat, just above her collarbone and just below the bandages. It was warm to the touch, and her soft skin against his lips soothed his aching mind. His kisses were tentative at first, but as he reached her lips, he poured all his passion into her, praying to some non-existent god that he didn't believe in that she would be alright.

Her eyes fluttered open.

She was awake.


Ahh, I'm so jealous of people who can actually write well. I am NOT a writer! Even though it's so short, I lost interest in writing it after a few hours, which just goes to show that I'm not cut out for writing stories. I'm only cut out for essay writing, and that's boring... But I absolutely wanted to finish this, because I love Roy and Riza!