Author's Notes: This got a lot more angsty than I anticipated and I hurt myself while writing this. So many people were asking about Wojciech's scar and this just sort of...happened while I was riding down to New Orleans. It was intense.

Disclaimer: I own nothing.

i can only bear the scars

This is all my fault, was the only thing Riza could think as she lied on the ground, dazed and dusty from the sand. The hot sun beared down on her mercilessly, feeling more like Roy's flames than anything else, as if trying to burn her into the ground, and for a moment, she willed that it would happen. Anything to take her away from this hell, anything to take her away from the sins that covered her hands - that drenched her very soul.

She needed to get out of here. She needed to run back to base camp. She needed to get up on her feet.

But Riza couldn't even move a hand towards her daemon, much less stand up and run.

A dizzingly sick feeling washed over her, causing her to roll over and dry heave. Out, out - she had to get the feeling out. It felt disgusting and, even worse, a part of her, like she'd been stained with it. She didn't know if there was anyway she could get rid of it, not when Wojciech didn't feel the slightest guilty. How could her soul not feel shameful over what he'd just done? People didn't touch other people's daemons and daemons didn't touch other people unless they loved them. So what happens when a daemon touches someone out of hate?

Riza dry heaved again, choking on a sob, but she swallowed both urges down and rolled onto her stomach so that she could bury her face in her hands.

She wasn't mad at him, which was perhaps even worse. If not for Wojciech doing what he had done - for doing what he always did without thinking of the consequences - she would've likely been dead. She hadn't been paying attention, like Roy and Hughes that time she saved their lives, and the two Ishvallan men got the jump on her before she'd even realized what was going on. So she couldn't be mad at Wojciech for leaping to her defense. She couldn't be mad that he'd broken every daemon taboo there was by attacking the men head on.

In the Academy, daemons were taught to go after other daemons or to stand out of sight. A stray bullet could kill a person even without hitting them. Wojciech's size was threatening, but also a liability in the field, and he'd learned to hide under cover and lie as flat as possible. Wojciech should've gone after the men's daemons, but he quickly assessed that they weren't worth it, too far behind and out of reach. The immediate threats were the men grappling with Riza, one holding her as she kicked and screamed. Then the knife had gleamed viciously in the sunlight in the other man's hands.

Riza had been on the ground and unable to see Wojciech, willing him to run but knowing that he'd stay, when she felt something awful tear through her. It wasn't like that time when Wojciech jumped in between Roy and her and Roy ended up gripping his fur instead of her arm. That had been a shock, leaving her breathless, but it had been undeniably pleasant, fire waving gentle laps over her soul. This was…something entirely different. It was revolting and oily and black, making her choke and smack her attacker with pitiful thumps. And the scream that overtook the air, more animal than human, until there was nothing but bloody gurgling and Wojciech's feral and dangerous snarls.

Get off her! Wojciech might've screamed, but it was only in her head, she thought. He couldn't say a word out loud, his mind wrapped up in fury. He was a predatory in every sense of the word.

The man's daemon, some sort of bird, pecked at him, but Wojciech took one vicious snap, catching the bird by the wing and shook him roughly before tossing him to the side. The man howled as Wojciech ravaged his daemon, brandishing a knife and moving to dig Riza with it, but Wojciech bit into his arm and dragged him off of her. Riza was too busy gasping for air with his hand no longer around her throat to even think of Wojciech touching another human with such malice intent. By the time the struggle was over and a heavy silence drifted over them, she could breathe, but only barely. The metallic taste of blood seemed to dribble over her lips, but it was Wojciech's and she wanted to cry.

Riza felt those men die through him. Her soul had killed two people to save her. A wordless scream bubbled up in her throat, but she clenched her eyes shut and bit her lip, willing it away with every last bit of strength. The feeling would go away. It would pass. It would slip away from her.

Wojciech limped towards her, head hung low, but his golden eyes were focused on her. "Riza, I-" But he stopped himself, not knowing what to say. What do you say after your soul touches another person with such malice intent? He didn't hate them though - not really - he was just protecting her and was furious and terrified that they were trying to hurt her. He didn't think. He just leapt to protect her, as he always did. They were going to kill her, so he killed them instead.

Slowly, Riza pulled her face out of her hands and looked up at her daemon. When she did, she let out a small gasp. His jaw was soaked in blood, the red liquid staining his grey and white fur and his front right leg was injured, but that's not what caught her attention. There was a long gash on his face, starting above his left eye and slanting all the way down his snout under his right eye. It was lucky that neither eyes had been damaged. Blood dripped from the wound into the sand, an ugly red vibrant against the light brown. Golden Dust mixed with the blood, drifting lazily to the ground. Clearly the knife that had been meant for her had gotten a dig in at him. The man had fought ferociously, but a knife couldn't compare to a wolf's teeth.

"Oh, Wojciech…" Riza dragged herself to a sitting position and held out her arms so that Wojciech could press his whole body into her. He was trembling, and she knew in her heart that he was terrified, not for her - but of himself. He was honestly afraid of himself and what he'd done. Riza held onto him tightly, no matter how weak she felt, and ignored the way his blood and the blood of her would-be killers smeared onto her white jacket and uniform. "You saved me."

"I-" Wojciech cut himself off and swallowed hard. She wondered how the blood tasted to him, if it tasted as sour to him as it did her.

"You saved me," Riza repeated. She pressed her face into his fur. It was so soft, even when he was dusted with sand. She loved him for it. Whenever she was scared or upset or didn't think she could handle it anymore, she would smooth her hands down his back, hold onto him, or rub against him with her cheek. It always brought her comfort, their bond strong and steady. She hoped, if only for a moment, that she could give him that feeling in return.

They hadn't warned her about this at the Academy before shipping her off to the frontlines. They'd said that daemons could get hurt on the frontlines. They'd said that medical attention might be necessary for a daemon so that their human wasn't hurt. They never told her that her daemon might have to kill for her to protect her. They never said that she might damage her soul beyond repair. They hadn't warned her that she might make a killer out of her daemon along with her.