Well, this is it folks. The last chapter.

Thanks again to Disastergirl for helping clean up this mess.

Enter Io, gadfly-stung.

-o-o-o-

Part 7: Fortune's Obsequies

I mourn for thee, Prometheus, diminished and brought low,
Watering my virgin cheeks with these sad drops, that flow
From sorrow's rainy fount, to fill soft-lidded eyes
With pure libations for thy fortune's obsequies.

Aeschylus – Prometheus Bound

Roy didn't recall much of the journey home, but in the many sleepless nights that followed, he remembered flashes: the sharp scent of the leather lining the back seat of the car. The way Hawkeye's hair shone like burnished gold as they passed under each streetlamp. Maes' white knuckles gripping the steering wheel. The metallic taste of blood in his mouth.

Out of all these things, he remembered the hollow ache in his chest. The unbearable emptiness returned with a vengeance, punching a hole through his very core. He felt bone-tired - far more than his body could tell. It was the exhaustion that only came after nothing remained and emotions ran dry. He hunched alone in the back seat, desperately wishing to be left alone. Knowing he shouldn't be.

It hadn't taken long to find the others. They'd only walked few dozen paces before Breda and Falman materialized out of the darkness, a bloodied Havoc strung between them. The Lieutenant had been caught in one of Ethon's water traps; a wave swept him off his feet and drove his head against the wall. Havoc was dazed from a nasty concussion, but still managed to flash a merry grin when he saw his superiors approaching. His smile slid a bit when he caught a glimpse of Mustang's face. Breda and Falman had similar expressions: shock mixed with concern. Roy couldn't blame them. Based on the pain that laced through his body, he could guess at how he looked. Roy offered them a feeble smirk - more a grimace than anything - but it didn't seem to convince them.

It was Maes who decided they split up. Roy refused to see a doctor despite his broken ribs, torn lip, and swollen eye. "I can't risk it," he said, staring meaningfully at Maes until the taller man nodded. They both knew Roy needed to hide the true extent of his injuries to escape suspicion. There were no doctors at Eastern Headquarters they could trust with this secret. But Havoc needed help, and Falman and Breda agreed to take him to a local physician with the feeble excuse that they'd been caught in a bar fight.

Roy didn't look back when Maes took him by the shoulder and led him away. He felt relieved; he was growing tired of Breda and Falman's uneasy expressions - how they looked to Hawkeye for assurance that nothing was amiss. He wished he hadn't seen her shake her head, the slight motion of her hand that promised later explanation. He didn't want to be discussed - not in that way. He just wanted to be away from this cold, wet place. Away from the worried glances. He needed to be alone. Yet a part of him was glad when he heard Hawkeye's footsteps behind him, following. He could feel the weight of her eyes on his back, the warmth of her hand she helped him into the car, and it was of some small comfort.

The ride was mostly quiet, broken by the occasional murmured conversation between Maes and Riza in the front seat. Roy didn't hear much of what was said over the roar of the engine and the sound of his own chattering teeth. They were all soaked through, and the night chill quickly settled into their clothes. Not even the wheezing car heater could cut the cold that gnawed at his bones.

After what seemed an eternity, Maes pulled Roy's car into the tiny driveway next to his flat. There was a moment of silence after he cut the engine, and he and Riza exchanged a look before opening their doors and sliding out.

"I'm fine," Roy mumbled when Maes opened his door and held out a hand to help him. "I don't need help." He couldn't see his friend's face in the darkness, but he felt Maes' hand slide to his elbow, firm and insistent. And secretly, Roy was grateful.

He didn't realize the full extent of his injuries until his feet hit the pavement. Down in the Waterways, enveloped in the chaos and terror of Ethon's alchemy, he could ignore the cuts and bruises and broken bones. But now in the quiet of night, at the end of things, his entire body sang. His knees gave out and he nearly fell before Hawkeye slipped under his arm to support him. Maes reached back to grip Roy's belt. Together, the three shuffled inside.

"Let's get him to the couch," Maes said, nodding to Roy's only piece of furniture. They helped him across the room and eased him down to the battered leather cushions. Maes laid his hand on Riza's. "Some towels, please." She nodded, eyes lingering on Roy for a moment before she slipped away. With a sigh, Maes sank down on the cushions next to Roy.

For a long time, there was silence. Roy shivered, trying desperately to keep his thoughts from straying to dark corners – to the places he held close and secret. He sent a sidelong glance at Maes, who was slouched on the couch, head tipped back, eyes closed. Roy licked his lips. "Maes."

Maes opened his eyes and fixed Roy with an unreadable expression. Roy had to stop himself from shrinking away. He always thought his friend's eyes uncanny. Piercing and intelligent, they seemed to strip everything away. It made Roy feel vulnerable - unwillingly open. Maes knew everything without so much as a word passing between them. Roy turned his face away so his friend couldn't see.

"You okay?" Maes said softly. They could hear the sound of Riza opening drawers in the other room. "Roy?"

"I'm… fine." Roy said, not lifting his head. He wished Maes would stop looking at him like that, with those damn all-seeing eyes. He shivered. This time it wasn't from the cold.

"Roy…"

"Let me be," Roy clipped. He regretted it immediately. He hadn't meant to sound so sharp. Roy shook his head and pushed up from the couch. His legs were still wobbly, and he stumbled before catching himself. Maes made to get up and help, but Roy held out a hand to stop him. "Don't. I'm fine." He tottered over to the other side of the room, where stood a dusty liquor cabinet.

"You're not fine." The couch creaked as Maes rose to follow. "Roy, sit down."

Roy frowned at the whiskey bottle that rested on the lacquered surface. A bare two inches of liquor remained. He must have drunk more than he thought the night Kate lured him into the alley. He'd been so lost then in the wake of his denied promotion. He'd wallowed in his own misery. It seemed such a small, meaningless thing after what happened with Ethon. Roy shook his head and untwisted the cap. His hands still shook from cold, and he spilled half of what he poured. It didn't matter. He just wanted to feel numb. Roy was about to toss the drink back when Maes stopped him with a hand on his shoulder.

"Roy," Maes said gently.

"What?" Roy snapped. He turned to face his friend, whiskey splashing over his hand. He wished Maes wouldn't stand so close.

"You don't need that, Roy."

Roy let out a shuddering breath. His chest hurt. A deep ache, right in the very center. Why did it hurt so much?

Maes squeezed Roy's shoulder. "You did the right thing."

His words came out a bitter laugh. "The right thing?"

"Ethon… he was beyond help. He would have killed her, Roy."

Riza appeared in the doorway, a bundle of towels draped over her arms. Roy stared at her, a woman half-lost in shadow, silent as always. But he knew her thoughts. They'd long passed the need for words. He remembered the way she looked after he stopped Ethon's transmutation. She was so still, washed-up like a dead thing. In the flurry of the moment, he was too focused to think on what might have been. But here, in the quiet dark of his apartment, he finally allowed himself to fear. He'd nearly lost her. He'd nearly lost Maes. They'd both risked their lives to save him. And for what? Another corpse and more blood on his hands.

"Roy," Maes said, drawing his attention back. He reached forward to gently pry the drink from Roy's fingers. "It's not your fault." He set the drink down.

"You don't know that." Roy said. He saw Riza shift in the corner of his vision. "How could you say that? You don't know what I..."

"I do know. It's not your fault, Roy." Maes looked at Roy sadly. "Ethon's death is not your fault."

"I shouldn't have... I could've..."

"Roy, Ethon would have killed her. He chose his fate."

"No," Roy choked. "I'm the one who -"

He was cut short as Maes drew him into an uncompromising hug. Roy stiffed – about to pull away - but Maes' arms tightened, allowing no escape. "He would have killed her, Roy," he whispered. "You didn't have a choice."

Roy meant to deny it. He meant to tell Maes that it was his fault - couldn't he see? But all that came out was a single, strangled sob. Perhaps Maes was right, but that did not stop it from hurting. Didn't have a choice, he thought. There were so many things he'd been forced to do during the war. They told him those thing were not his fault, either - it was his duty to follow orders, after all. But the memories haunted him all the same. He looked up at Riza, still standing at the other side of the room. Her face was hidden in shadow now. He was glad. He didn't want to meet her eyes. He was afraid of what he might find there. Another sob escaped, and he bent forward to lean his forehead on Maes' still-damp shoulder.

"I... didn't want to, Maes. I didn't want to do it."

"We know, Roy." Maes' arms tightened. "We know."

He could not say how long he stood there. Everything seemed dampened. For a time all he knew was wet wool and the dark flash of memory. His ears filled with a horrible roaring like the sound of an unstoppable tide. Roy felt rather than heard his friend murmur, soft and low. His throat closed and he gasped like a drowning man. It was too much; he couldn't bear it. He swayed on his feet as regret threatened to sweep him away. Yet Maes' arm held him steady, clasped about his shoulders like an anchor.

Roy didn't recall crossing the room, but soon he was seated on the couch, a towel draped over his shoulders. Riza and Maes sat at either side of him. He felt a hand rub up and down his back; he wasn't sure whose. Roy hunched. "I'm... sorry." he said. He stared fixedly at his knees.

"Roy..."

"I didn't mean for you to see me like this."

"Nah," Maes said. He chuckled, and the sound seemed to push back the darkness - if only a little. "I'm just paying back a favor." He nudged Roy with an elbow. "Remember the time I failed our firearms course?"

Roy smiled darkly. "You did get pretty shit-faced."

Maes laughed, and the dark receded more. "Oh yeah? I can't recall."

"I do. I had to carry you home, you ass. You were heavy as hell." Roy dared a glance up at his friend. Their eyes met. There was no anger there, no revulsion. Only warmth and trust and caring. What did he do to deserve such friends?

"Roy," Maes said, reaching forward to squeeze his shoulder. His eyes were suddenly serious. "I'm sorry. I have to get back to Central. They've already noticed my absence, and Gracia can only hide this for so long."

Roy blinked. "Yeah."

"Riza will stay with you tonight." Maes nodded to her before rising from the couch. "I'll call to check in later."

Roy reached out to take hold of his friend's sleeve. "Maes... wait."

Maes didn't speak. He simply paused, waiting.

"I..." Roy swallowed thickly. "Thank you."

Maes' placed his hand back on Roy's shoulder. "Always. We'll aways be here for you, Roy."

Roy nodded, too overcome for words. Maes squeezed his shoulder one final time before stepping away. He slipped out the front door, swallowed by the night.

Riza hadn't moved from where she sat at his side. For a long time, Roy stared at the door where Maes disappeared. He couldn't bring himself to meet her eyes. He wished he had the strength to look at her. He couldn't bear the sorrow he'd find there. The concern. The undeserved devotion. Roy shivered again.

Riza bent down to meet his gaze. Her eyes asked a silent question.

Roy shook his head. "Just cold."

She watched him for a moment before she finally murmured something about tea.

She rose from the couch and started toward the kitchen, silent as a shadow. Roy let out a strangled gasp and struggled to his feet. He couldn't bear the thought of being alone. Moments like this made him realize how much he needed others - especially her, his ever-present phantom, wordless and incorporeal as she was. He reached out, half expecting his hand to pass through her body, but she was solid. He spread his fingers between her shoulder blades - on the place where he kept his secrets. On the woman that carried them.

She stilled. "Sir…?" She was worried about him. He could hear it in her voice.

"He wanted this," Roy whispered. He felt her shudder under his hand; whether from fear or cold he could not know. "If he found it... found you..." His voice trailed as memories of a darkened tunnel and water like ropes resurfaced. An uncomfortable silence stretched between them, full of regret and unsaid things. He knew he should let her go. Ethon's death was a burden she did not deserve to bear. But he could not draw away. Her warmth was the one thing keeping the darkness at bay.

Finally she spoke, back still turned to him, voice insubstantial as mist. "There is nothing left for them to find."

The words drove through him like a spear. He was sure she meant to reassure him, but he heard two meanings in what she said. He wished he could tell her. About Ethon. About his secret doubts. About everything. But he had too much pride to admit his weakness, even to her: his secret-keeper. She shouldered enough for him as it was.

She turned to face him, stepping to the side to free her back from his touch. Her eyes searched his. "You should rest, Sir. Please sit. I won't be long."

Roy's hand dropped, but didn't move away. He was afraid of being alone. "We'll never escape it," he breathed. "This secret. It will haunt us forever." Ethon wanted Flame Alchemy. He wanted the power. And he was just one of countless others.

She nodded silently. She knew. The thing they shared bonded them together. Irreparably. Inexorably. And tonight the weight of that shared burden and all the damage it caused threatened to overwhelm them. Flame alchemy was Riza's only inheritance; there was no escape for her. In sharing her father's knowledge with Roy, their fate was forever joined. It was their duty to protect it - their unspoken, solemn oath. Had Ethon managed to steal that secret, she would have tried to stop him - and likely died in the process.

"Riza..." Roy stepped toward her. "I..." Another step, and he could feel her warmth radiating against his chest. He reached out to take hold of her elbow, grip firm and possessive. He didn't want her to slip away into the night. She watched him, still as a statue. She never lost her stoic mask. Her unwavering eyes only had room for pity.

His hand tightened. "Riza," he said again, this time a plea. Emptiness gnawed at his chest. He needed to fill it. He was desperate for something to cling to in the dimming night. Yet guilt writhed in his stomach. He should let her go. She wasn't meant to share in his misery. But she felt so real. So solid. Not a ghost at all. A woman - soft and warm and alive. Alive while he felt dead.

She slid her free hand to the one of his that gripped her elbow, smoothly lacing her fingers in his. Her smile was sad but warm. "Come on," she said, tugging gently. She stepped away from him, but did not let go. He followed without a word.

His bedroom was cold; the empty, unlived-in feeling that only comes when its occupant lives in fear of permanence. Roy didn't bother feeling embarrassed by the unmade bed and clothes strewn over the backs of chairs. He only had eyes for her: his quiet, steady beacon.

She turned and placed her hands on his shoulders to stop him. "Here," she said. Her hands slid inward and she unfastened the top two buttons of his collar. She took each of his wrists, one by one, to undo the buttons at his cuffs. She moved slowly, methodically. She helped him pull the damp garment over his head. Though wet, it still offered at least a little warmth, and Roy shivered when the chill hit his bare chest.

"Sit," Riza said in a soft command. She pushed him gently towards the bed. The backs of Roy's knees caught on the edge of the mattress and he he fell with a soft grunt.

"Ouch," Roy rasped. "Hey." He swore he saw a smile ghost over her lips before she leaned down to help him with his shoes. He watched her at her work, the way her hands moved as she peeled off each sock. And in that moment, he loved her.

Riza rose and stepped close, into the space just between his knees. She reached up to carefully take his head in her hands and lifted his chin so their eyes met. Her thumbs rubbed over his cheeks, up and down. They stayed that way for a long time, each hardly blinking, hardly daring to breathe. Starlight filtered through the window, casting an ethereal glow over her skin. His breath caught. She was as lovely as the moon, more full and luminous than any woman he knew. She was his secret-keeper. His sad, quiet shadow.

She smiled and leaned down to brush her lips across a bruise on his forehead, then down to his swollen eye. Her kisses where small things - brief and feather-light - yet somehow weighty enough to sink into his skin like a balm. Her fingers found the nape of his neck where they made easy circles. He felt his muscles begin to unwind. Roy sighed, closed his eyes, and rested his chin on her middle. One hand played at the back of her knee.

After a time, she drew back to look at him again, brushing his hair from his eyes with one hand. "Rest now," she said, guiding him up him up to stand. She helped him loosen his belt and step out of his trousers. He crawled into bed, and Riza pulled the sheets up to cover him. They felt cold and empty.

He heard the soft sound of fabric on fabric and the mattress pitched slightly as she slid into bed beside him. He reached out for her, reached out into the darkness, and suddenly she was there, close enough to brush knees. He felt her breath puff on his collarbone, more tangible than the sheets that wrapped him. Roy's hands slid up to her hips to draw her nearer. Their legs entwined, and he let out a shuddering breath at the warmth of her. With a small cry, he leaned in to kiss her.

She tasted just as he imagined: sweet and delicate. Her presence overwhelmed and enveloped him, and soon he was lost in her. Roy pressed himself closer, his body flush against hers. His kisses grew hasty and desperate. He moaned into her mouth - a lost sound from the very back of his throat. She was so very warm. He wanted to sink into her like a ship lost at sea. He was one, in so many ways.

Yet it hurt. His lip was torn and bruised, but that pain was nothing compared to the ache in his chest. Riza filled him; unlike Kate, she made him feel whole. But the feeling was bittersweet. He knew this could not last. It was but a moment of weakness - fated to be short-lived. She had always been a forbidden fruit to him - a prize denied by honor and duty and too many unsaid things. A thing he should not touch. But her body was warm and supple beneath his hands. He could not - would not - let go.

The taste of salt drew him back. He pulled away to look at her and saw a wet trail on her cheek. A moonlit ribbon, heartbreaking in its simple beauty. Guilt drove through him, and the darkness flooded in again.

"Riza..." he choked. The night seemed to swallow his voice. He drew further away from her, shivering and ashamed. "I... I'm sorry..."

"No," she said. Her eyes were infinitely sad. She reached forward to cradle his head in her hands. "No." She pulled him back into her, so his cheek lay on her breast. She rested her chin on his crown and held him close. "Rest now," she whispered. "You're safe."

-o-o-o-

Well mebh, it's done. The first multichap fic I've ever completed: My gift to you.

Reindeer, Goats, and Cats.

Antigone

-o-o-o-

Our Cast of Characters:

Roy Mustang = Prometheus, the Fire-Bearer

Colonel Ophis = Hermes, messenger of the gods, who taunts Prometheus

Kate = Kratos, also known as Might, strong-arm of Zeus

Beau = Bia, also known as Violence, companion of Might, often played mute

Ethon Arnold = Zeus' eagle, sent to torture Prometheus

Maes Hughes = Oceanus, Prometheus' friend and confidant

Riza Hawkeye = Io, linked to Prometheus by fate