It was a bit more cold out in Resembool in the mornings than it was in Central, more space for the wind to get at you. They put on sweaters over their sleeping clothes and slipped on their shoes and out the door they went. The rest of the men were sound asleep, and the occupants of the houses were as well in their own bedrooms.

"How are your feet?" she asked, noticing he was limping slightly.

"They don't hurt, they're just uncomfortable."

"Should we have bandaged them again before we'd left?"

"Nah, it's fine. Actually, when we get back, I'd like to take a needle to the blisters."

She couldn't keep the conversation up as they walked slowly down the dirt road. She had her hand on his elbow to guide him. He seemed rather absent-minded, from his nightmare and just having woken up, and wasn't really in the mind to try and sense things. There was barely anything to run into on the track anyway.

The sky slowly turned a brighter blue, leaking into a soft yellow that was more of a grey to the eye, until oranges and pinks followed it that brought the yellows into contrast. And then there was the sun.

She heard him take a deep breath and then let it out slowly.

"Is that the sunrise?" he asked.

"Yes."

"Never knew they felt so good..." He turned his head a little bit. "I hear water."

"The road meets up with a river in a little bit."

"Let's stop there."

It took them about fifteen more minutes to get to that spot, as Roy was starting to limp even more, and he slipped down the slope gratefully (albeit terrifyingly) and slid to a stop on the bank. It had levelled out before it touched the water. He reached out a hand and felt the river in more ways than one and smiled softly before taking his shoes off.

"What are you doing? That water is probably freezing."

"It's warm," he said, and dipped his blistered feet into the river, letting out a sigh of contentment.

Riza sat down beside him and curled her legs up to her chest, resting her chin on her knees, watching the colors of the sky in the water. It wasn't the prettiest river in the world, as the water rushed by a little too fast and carried dirt with it, turning it a rather unappealing brown color. She wondered how the man next to her saw it now, with no eyes to see the surface ugliness.

She figured now was as good as time as any to broach that subject. But how to word it? No touching? At all? No words that could be mistaken as something else? Might as well not talk to each other at all. She sighed and opened her mouth to speak, but he beat her to the punch.

"I had a dream," he said, and his voice wasn't content anymore, now it seemed a little shaky and brooding. She let him talk, having lost her nerve to say anything at all in her surprise at his interruption. "It was Ishbal, and then not, and you were all dead..." He trailed off.

"You'd slept well the past two nights. I was wondering if the nightmares had all disappeared."

He turned his head towards her, his blind eyes roaming until they more or less found her own eyes. His own widened a slight fraction in what could have been realization.

"What?" she asked.

"I wonder..."

She frowned at his crypticness. Suddenly he flopped down on his back on the grassy bank and stared up at the sky.

"Close your eyes," she admonished softly.

He did as he was told, one side of his mouth crooked up. "Yes, ma'am."

"Taking a nap, here?"

"Yep." He rolled over onto his side to face her, running one hand absently through the blades of grass. "You should, too. I know I've probably kept you up at night as well, not just myself."

She couldn't keep a scowl from her face as she glared at the river. She knew he meant his nightmares, but she had her own dream pop into her head right at that moment. He had no idea how much he was keeping her up at night.

"Nature might do you some good," he wheedled.

She took a sigh and laid down as well, on her back, a breeze sifting its own fingers through her bangs.

"What time do you think it is?" he asked.

"Oh six hundred, maybe."

"Well, then, instead of good night, I bid thee good morning."

She let out a scoff before turning her back to him. "Good morning, then," she said softly. And something about the atmosphere, the senses overload, and even knowing he was right close beside her, caused her to drift off to sleep almost instantaneously.

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She woke up sweating to death in her sweater and she groggily sat up and slipped out of it. It had gotten quite warm through the morning and the sun was pretty high in the sky. She squinted up at it, trying to figure out the time. Maybe ten in the morning. Or two in the afternoon. She couldn't remember what direction the sun was rising from.

A splash distracted her and she turned her eyes back to the river. Roy was standing knee-deep in the murky water, shirtless and thoroughly soaked. He looked like he had just emerged from a swim, water running in trails from his hair to his shoulders, over his pecs and in each crevice of his abs, over the large scar on his side, disappearing into the waistband of his pants, which sagged, waterlogged, precariously past his hips. A surge went through her and she fought hard to quell it, something she could have contained easily had she been awake, but her grogginess made it a little slow this time.

As if he had heard her shift around in the grass, even over the rush of the water, he turned his head towards her.

"Mornin'," he said, smiling.

"Morning," she said, swallowing. "Is it still?"

He shrugged, making his way towards her.

No, no, no, stay away. Unfortunately, he did not hear her telepathic pleas and sat down in the grass beside her.

"Water is amazing. The feel, the sound. And the mud on the bottom is so squishy and unpleasant at first, but then it starts to feel good. And over that melody of the river, I could hear you move. Impossible, right? But I could."

"We should get back to the house," she said quickly, standing up.

His face followed her voice and he blinked. "Alright."

She didn't even give him the time to flounder about for his effects. She picked his shirt and shoes up, grabbed his elbow, and dragged him up the slope to the road, where she instantly let go of him. They walked in silence. When he was dry enough, he asked for his shirt, and she gave it to him. When the house was in sight, she breathed a sigh of relief.

"What's your problem?" he asked.

"Nothing," she said, by now thoroughly awake and able to talk normally. "It's just getting late."

"Hmm..." he said, unconvinced, but not able to express it without seeming incredibly nosy. So he let it slide. For now.