A/N: Based off the song 'Little Talks' by Of Monsters and Men, this is a story (probably so very different than what Arakawa-san had in mind) of how the relationship grew between Roy and Riza. It didn't just spring up overnight; it took time. So sit back and read on. We're going to take a little trip, you and I.

I do not own FMA.

Work It Through

I don't like walking around this old and empty house
So hold my hand, I'll walk with you, my dear

The house was silent except for the occasional creak of timbers settling, wind making hushing noises against the panes of dusty windows, or the muted footsteps of the young woman wandering the rooms. Brown eyes scanned surfaces of furniture, or the carpets on the floors, seeing it all, but none of it registering.

A separate footstep scuffed the ground behind her as she moved to exit the living room. "Hey, there you are."

Riza stopped, turning to face the man who had addressed her. She said nothing, watching as he crossed the room toward her. The long blue overcoat was gone, leaving him in his uniform pants and a plain white shirt. Dark eyes watched her carefully as he approached.

"Are you all right?"

She shrugged. "As well as can be expected." Turning her gaze away, she looked around the room again. "I'm just . . . thinking."

"No, you're not." His smile was almost genuine; there was too much sadness hidden behind it to be truly real. "I know you too well; that's not your 'I'm thinking' face; that's your 'I'm worrying about things' face. C'mon; out with it."

Like his smile, the glare she shot his way hid too much sadness to be authentic. "There are a lot of things I'm worried about," she said coolly. "I'm worried about the house and what's going to happen to it now. I'm worried about myself, and what's going to happen to me." She bit her lip for the barest second, trying to stop the words and not succeeding. "And I'm worried about you because you're going headlong into a war zone."

"I told you not to jinx me," he muttered, stuffing his hands into his pockets. "I'm going to have watch myself over there, I guess."

"I guess so." She wrapped her arms around herself, moving to sit on the squashy cushions of the couch behind her. "It's a strange feeling around here now . . . knowing that someone died in this house."

Roy moved closer, but remained on his feet. "Better here than in some hospital." He regarded her thoughtfully. "Is that one of the reasons you don't want me to go? So you won't be alone with some sort of ghost?"

Her smile was humourless. "In a way, I lived with a ghost for years. But this time, I know for sure that I'm alone." The curve disappeared from her lips. "I guess that's what it is. I hate the thought of being by myself. One person in a house that's too big."

He was silent for a moment, pondering that. "With me away, my aunt's got an empty room on her hands," he suggested. "I could probably convince her to let you stay for a while."

"Thanks for the offer . . . but no." She had apparently come to some sort of decision, because she sat straighter, her expression determined. "This is just one of life's challenges. There's nothing to do but find a way through it."

"That's the girl I know." Smiling, Roy dropped into a seat beside her, and reached out to ruffle the short hair at the back of her head; she ducked away from his hand, prompting them both to smile. For a moment, brown eyes met black, the gaze holding for several moments longer. Abruptly, his smile vanished, his eyes going to her back. Her back, that only the night before had been bared to him.

Riza shifted to take the hand that had just been teasing at her hair. "Now who's worrying about things?" she said quietly. "I told you; I'll find a way through this. I'll be all right." Her fingers squeezed his. "And so will you."

He nodded. "I guess I have to believe that."

For a moment, she pressed her lips forcefully to his, her bangs tickling against his forehead. A second later, Riza pulled away, her cheeks flushed, but her voice steady. "There. A good luck charm, against the times I've jinxed you." She let go of his hand, looking away to the floor.

Roy just stared. ". . . Wow." They sat in silence for another too-long moment. "I wasn't that worried about it."

"I know."

"Okay." Silence. "So . . . if you knew I wasn't worried about it, then why did you kiss me?"

With a noise of annoyance halfway between a huff and a snarl, Riza pushed to her feet and stormed toward the door. "Forget it. It's late; I'm going to bed."

He let her go. Climbing the creaking stairs, Riza fumed silently at herself. You've always had better self-control than that, what were you thinking, pull it together! You can't, you can't, you can't . . . . The slam of her bedroom door was purely cathartic, an outlet for the anger. Crossing to her bed, she snuggled into the warm comforter without changing into her pajamas, still too angry to sleep.

She listened to his footsteps coming up the stairs, heard them pause at the top . . . and then continue. Seconds later, the door to his room opened and closed, and that was the end of it.

The stairs creak as I sleep, it's keeping me awake
It's the house telling you to close your eyes

He came awake at the soft click across the room, the sound of someone trying to open a door quietly. Floorboards made quiet squeaks as his visitor slipped lightly across them to his bedside; Roy watched through half-open eyes until they reached out to touch his shoulder.

"I'm awake, Riza." The silhouette before him jumped. "What do you want?"

". . . My mother once told me that I should never go to bed angry." Her voice was soft. Withdrawing her hand, she folded it behind her back with the other and stood straight. "So I want to apologize. I'm sorry for what happened earlier; it was an impulse and I should have kept it under control —"

"Whoa; hold on a second." He sat up, arms resting on his bent knees. "You didn't hear me complaining. It was —"

"Actually, I took your 'I wasn't worried' as a 'Please never do that again,'" Riza said curtly. "If that's not a complaint, I don't know what is." Arms folded, she paused before looking away. "What happened to your shirt?"

Roy looked down at his own bare chest, lip twisting in a humourless smirk. "Started going without it at the Academy. When they turf you out of your bed at five a.m. and tell you to dress as fast possible . . . a sleep shirt is just one more thing to get in the way." He glanced guiltily her way, before reaching for the shirt he'd discarded earlier. "Here; if it bothers you —"

Her hand touched his wrist before it could reach the starched white cotton. He looked up to find her smiling faintly. "You don't hear me complaining."

He smirked at the comeback, settling back to his previous position. "Touché. So is that all you wanted? To apologize?"

Riza shrugged microscopically. "That, and I just couldn't sleep. Every time the stairs creak, my eyes open." She paused. "And those stairs creak a lot. They did that before, but like I said, the house has a different feel now."

"I've still got two more nights after this," he said. "Think you can adjust in time? I don't want to leave you here if —"

"You don't want to leave me here, period," she cut in for the third time, though her tone was mild.

"Would you stop making this difficult?" Roy growled, shooting her a glare. "It's not so wrong to accept help, you know, especially from a friend." He froze, tensing at the word, then swiftly backtracked. "Or . . . you know, whatever it is we are."

Canting her head to one side, Riza regarded him almost curiously. "You're saying . . . we're something other than friends?" Her hand when to her left shoulder, where her fingertips would just be touching the edge of the tattoo. "I mean . . . I can see why. I just . . . I suppose I never thought about it. About us being . . . whatever it is we are."

He was nervous, now. This was it; make it, or break it. Roy's voice was soft in the dark as he said, "What do you want us to be?"

"Ourselves." Hand still on her shoulder, Riza settled onto the edge of the bed. "You know my secrets, and I know yours; that ought to be grounds enough for us to be comfortable around each other. If anything, we're . . . partners." She gave a halfway genuine laugh. "Partners in secrecy . . . alchemy . . . . I don't know. As long as neither of us forgets the other . . . I think that's enough."

Roy smiled, leaning forward to press his palm against her cheek. His fingers threaded into her hair. "I'll tell you one thing, partner," he murmured. "There's exactly zero chance of me ever forgetting you."

Much to his dismay, Riza pulled away just milliseconds before his lips could touch hers, but he hid the smile behind a cocky grin. "What? Suddenly, you don't trust me anymore?"

"I trust you," she said soberly, reaching up to flick her bangs out of her eyes. "I have to, with the secrets I've given you. But when it's just you and me, I'm not sure I can trust myself." She looked down, unable to keep eye contact any longer. "I'm sorry."

He might have felt his heart crack a little, at the seams. "It's all right," he lied. "You've just gone through a major shock, and to force anything right now would mean it was exactly that: forced. You said yourself, we need to be able to be ourselves around each other." He reached out again, this time to chuck her gently under the chin; her eyes came up to his in time to meet a smirk and a wink. "When you're yourself again, look me up. I'll be waiting."

Riza smiled hesitantly. "I'll hold you to that, Mr. Mustang." Her eyes flicked to the second pillow on his bed, then back to him. "In the interest of working toward becoming myself again, building up my own trust . . . would you I mind if I stayed here? With you?"

The cracks closed just a little. "I'd like that very much, Miss Hawkeye."

Some days I can't even dress myself
It's killing me to see you this way
'Cause though the truth may vary this
Ship will carry our bodies safe to shore

Don't get nervous, guys. Updates are soon to follow.