A/N: School is over and I've decided to attempt to undertake a chapter fanfic and ACTUALLY finish it. This idea has been in my head for so long, so let's just see how it plays out...not in my mind. The setting is after the Promised Day and after everything is settled with Roy bring blind and blah blah blah. Okay basically, Roy has his site back and him and Riza are both out of the hospital. Anywho, Happy Royai Day!~

Madame Christmas noticed her as soon as she felt the draft being brought in by the door. At first Christmas wondered what a girl, ahem...woman, was doing in a place like this. Her character would never go with that of a brothel (although Christmas would never call it that). Then she remember that he was here, even though he should be. Yet, when he had come to see her, his face was so much older and tired than it should have been and Christmas couldn't help but to baby him again, the more nurturing side of her coming out, trying to hide him away from the world where he could be safe from his demons for at least a while.

Christmas wasn't necessarily calling Riza Hawkeye a demon, but she noticed how he changed around her. She was aware of the awkward glaces and touches between the two of them, but she would never ask either of them what was going on. Perhaps it was because she already knew or could guess, but it really was because it felt like it was something far too secret and deep that she should just leave it be. So, when Riza had approached her at the counter, Christmas had a feeling that her being her was one of those secrets.

"Is he...?" Riza asked, looking disheveled and worried. Christmas sighed. Oh how the poor dear looked. She was so young, yet...Her she stood, Riza Hawkeye, looking like a worn-out fifty year old mother.

"I shouldn't be telling you this, but he's upstairs," Christmas hadn't promised, but this was perhaps the biggest of Roy's demons. He was continuously haunted by her: losing her, reliving the past. It was something that always left him feeling...odd. Yes, that was how he had described it when his foster-mother had asked him: Odd. As soon as Christmas's response was spoken, Riza nodded as in thanks and headed upstairs to the bedroom she had known since her teenage years.

She opened the door and saw him lying down, hands over his face. She couldn't tell if he was awake or sleeping, but she figured he would known her presence either way. The door shut with a click and she saw him sit up in the shadows. Instead of being afraid of the darkness that they were in, she wanted it there. She didn't want to see his face, didn't want to know the hurt he was going through.

"What are you...?" His voice was steady, slow. She was grateful for it's lull, for she was nervous, although she wasn't sure why.

"I'm here to take you home. This place-It's not going to help. You just need some rest..." She figured it was the nightmares again. They were there are Ishval and after Hughes. Actually, they never really left him. She knew he had trouble sleeping. It was his excuse to her why he drank so much sometimes. He wanted things to be a blur and not be attached to anything or anyone for just a while.

"It's different this time. I know we won, but it's just..." His voice trailed off. He couldn't explain this jumble of emotions he felt and he hope in vain that Riza would understand, or at least somewhat. She looked at him, studying him closely, unafraid of the facts. Hughes had once spoken with her about Roy's "battle fatigue", and she felt so stupid for believing that his troubles might be going away when they never really left him. They were just hidden under the chaos of catching the homunculi and trying to grasp some sense of peace for Amestris and themselves.

"Please..." She didn't know what else to say because he has never been this...lost before. Not even when Hughes had been murdered, for she was able to pull him through, but this time was different. The look in his eyes, that hint of life, it was fading away far too quickly for her liking and she'd be damned to just sit there are watch it happen.

"I'm just...scared," He spoke, looking at her for the first time, after the silence she had left.

"I know," He secretly thanked her because he felt like she always knew what to say to make things seem...alright.

Roy watched as Hayate bolted through his front door and made himself right at home. Damn dog. Riza was the one who had brought him along. She had only planned to go to her house to pick up some things, not her dog, but even though Roy would never really admit it, he enjoyed the dog's company. Also, at the moment he didn't think things would go well if he was totally alone with Riza.

"You should lay down," She put a gentle hand on his shoulder and he really wished that she hadn't. She guided him into his bedroom, sat him down on the bed, and then of all things she could have done, she simply stared at him. He felt so exposed under her stare too, as if she was trying to find the answer to all of the questions she had been thinking the whole night.

"Hawkeye..." He was scared to say her name, for she had already brought them too close tonight and saying her name would just bring them closer, which in the end was what drove them apart. Much to his surprise though, she stood in front of him, hand on his shoulder, gave him a weak smile, and, oh god, she kissed him. And he, oh god, oh my god, he kissed her back. His mouth was hungry on hers and she was taken aback by just how starved he was of some human contact. Her hands were in his hair, on his shoulders, trailing down his chest. He had missed her so dearly and he couldn't help himself, but...He grabbed her wrists and she broke away, questioning his actions.

"I can't...We..." He couldn't, wouldn't, admit that what they were going to go, were leading up to doing, it would just hurt her in the end because they couldn't, more like shouldn't, be together in that way. She was always preaching to him: "Roy...if anyone found out..." or "You're reputation...We can't risk it," and yet here she was.

"I'm just trying to help you," Her voice was low, sultry. She was fighting against all of her fears and trying to help in the only way she knew, or thought, he would accept. She was desperate to rid his heavy mind for just a while.

"I just want to sleep. You should get some rest too," He avoided her because the thought of her becoming his comfort object and being another notch in his bedpost made him feel sick, sicker than he already felt. She averted her eyes from him, sighed and left his room without a room. He didn't know if she was offended or tired like himself, but at this point all he could think of was finally being able to relax and try and sleep.

Of course she felt offended! Although, she was grateful, for the first she had...ahem..."helped him" was after Hughes had been murdered and in the end it just drove him to feel more guilty and her, farther apart from him. She erased any thoughts on what had just happened, not wanting to worry through the night about what could have happened. She hummed to herself (it distracted her from thinking) while she changed from her military grab into her nightgown, much to her relief. She always loved the feeling of getting rid of the awful heavy blue fabrics at the end of the day.

She had managed to find some blankets in the hall closet and then settled herself in for the night on his couch. Hayate whimpered because the couch wasn't really big enough for two, so he had to sleep on the floor for once. She smiled at Hayate, thankful for his comfort and drifted to sleep.

Roy woke up in the middle of the night (much to Roy's enjoyment), to Hayate pulling on him. Roy glared at the dog, who seem troubled, but Roy was not a mind reader, let alone a dog mind reader, so he thought nothing of it and tried to go back to sleep. Of course, Hayate would not let that happened and continued to prod and pull on Mustang. Dammit Hayate! Roy gave in and got up then continued to follow the dog until he saw, or heard (he wasn't sure which was first), what Hayate had been trying to get to his attention.

Here was Riza, tossing and turning, making soft little noises in her sleep, having a nightmare. He could tell by the look on her face that she was facing her own demons and here he was thinking he was suffering alone when...oh god...He couldn't even account for all the guilt he felt at this very moment. Why had she said anything or...She hadn't looked tired or worried or lost...She was fine, right? He gently shook her, attempting to wake her, free her. She woke and looked at him with wet eyes, trying to bring herself back to reality, trying to make herself believe that the nightmares weren't real.

He could only bring himself to keep his hand on her's. He was afraid of contact at this point. He didn't want to break either of them, when they were still healing. He adverted his eyes, for he couldn't look at her like how she was with that worried face and eyes. Then, and this part scared him the most, she couldn't help herself anymore and let out a quite awkward noise and started to cry. She was silent, but of course he noticed. He had only seen her cry a few times and he knew that they were sensible things to cry about, but a nightmare...?

She hated herself for crying, she really did. She was not and refused to be like this. And yet, the tears came so...naturally and she couldn't stop them once they started. It's just that when she saw him, the nightmare refreshed itself in her mind: her blood pooling out of her, him watching, both of them dying. Roy looked at her now with concerned and she wished that he wasn't. It made her feel all the more weaker and ashamed. He continued to watch her, wanting to hold her and bring some sense of comfort, but he was unsure if that was what was best or what she wanted or...He reached out and took her in his arms, her falling right into them as if it was a normal occurrence. He settled both of them onto the couch and held her tighter, when she smiled at him, the tears now gone. He smirked back, feeling awkward after what just happened and their positions.

"Thank you," And for once, she didn't call him sir and he was grateful for the lack of it.