AN: Plot? PLOT? What plot? There's no plot here! Just Roy's meandering thoughts on the woman he loves 3

Disclaimer: I know this kind of goes without saying, but Fullmetal Alchemist, its characters, its plot and all its awesomeness don't belong to me. If it did, all my fanfics would have been animated in HD by now. Heehee.

Seared

Riza wasn't conventionally beautiful, the way Madame Christmas' girls were expected to be. She had none of the delicateness of youth, the one so evident in Fullmetal's girlfriend. Her allure wasn't the sultry, self-assured one that Olivier Armstrong possessed.

No, her features, though lovely in her own way, were far from conventional. They were honest and serious, and there was a sharpness in them that would make any regular guy look away in fear.

But it wasn't her face or even her smooth, lean body that drew in Roy. She was different from all the other women who had thrown themselves at him, whom he had bedded and forgotten the next morning.

No, what drew him in wasn't her smooth voice or her milky complexion or the sway of her hips.

It was the fire in her eyes.

The fire that would intrigue the flame alchemist. It was as if, every time he looked into her eyes, there was a struggle there that could only be seen in a split second before her gaze retreated to that of silent gravity.

He had known her for so long, and yet there was still an air of mystery surrounding her. He could read her silence like the alchemical texts he had studied for years. He could interpret every sigh, every furrow of her brow, every slight twitch in her lips that threatened to burst into a smile. But there was something in her that he had just discovered. Something in her burned for him, and he learned this back when he couldn't even see.

When she unveiled herself to him, in the dark, in the silence of the night, it was like wildfire that broke loose in his senses – passionate, all-encompassing, indefatigable, scalding… Addictive.

Having her near made him feel like his senses were ablaze with her scent, the way her golden hair reflected the moonlight, the way her fingers deftly maneuvered their way up his chest and sank into his hair. It seared into his memory. Not even his own flames could make him feel quite so hot.

And here she was, silently sipping a cup of tea by his window, oblivious to the fact that, despite having consumed their passions mere minutes before, he was still recovering from the heat in his senses. It took all of his will to avoid disturbing her, the picturesque image of perfection.

The way the setting sunlight danced in her eyes. The way she subtly licked her lips with each sip of tea. The way she wore his white shirt like it were hers, not bothering with buttons, and just wrapping the expanse of fabric around her. This could all be just a cruel dream, and yet he'd thank the heavens for giving him this image.

But no. She was real flesh and bone. Smooth skin and fading scars. A strength of will and gentleness all combined to form this one enigmatic creature.

She was here. And she was his.

"Roy," she said, interrupting his reverie.

"Hmmm?" he said languidly, just now noticing that his mouth had been twitched up into a grin.

"Why are you staring at me?" She asked, not even bothering to look in his direction as she took another sip of tea.

"I'm keeping a mental image."

"Why, are you leaving me?" The statement sounded clingy, but the irony was that she barely concealed her chuckle as she uttered it.

"Never. I just thought that one day, I'll get too old for all of this," He gestured at himself, still lying stark naked on his bed, "One day, I'll be stooped and bent like an old tree. I might even have trouble recalling my own name. But even then, I'll still have this image of you in my head, wearing my shirt, sitting by my window, with the sun bouncing off your hair."

She looked at him pointedly, mentally mulling over whether she should break in to a smile or laugh at his dorkiness. Instead, she put her cup down and walked towards him. She flipped him over on his back, straddled his hips and placed both arms on either side of his head.

"Such pretty words. Who'd have thought the Flame Alchemist could be so poetic." She whispered as she touched his nose with hers.

"There's a poet in here somewhere, behind all this bluster and painfully good looks." He smiled unapologetically.

"You know, me sitting by your window is possibly one of the most boring mental images of me you could think to sear in your mind. Why not pick something a little more… exciting?"

"Hmmm. Let's see what you have in mind…" He whispered in her ear playfully.

As the sun retreated into the horizon, Roy and Riza hardly noticed the blanket of darkness that engulfed them.

She is here, and she is his. And neither the darkness nor the passage of time could change that.

AN: How many fire-related words can you squeeze into one fanfic? Hahaha. Please leave a review!