[ the sound of a strike of a match and the smell of sulfur is familiar, and roy knows riza is lighting a lamp. but he sees nothing, only feeling the slight warmth and the smell of the fire. the tightness in his chest worsens, and it's hard to repress the memories that are at the edges of his mind. of the truth, of waking up on the other side, of edward grabbing his shoulder and demanding that he answer him...

focus. think. roy isn't stupid, he's brilliant, so he needs to start acting the part. he didn't just wake up blind, something had to have caused it. what? he had been ill -- the plague, the sickness, was this the cause? has anyone else woken up like this? or was it just him?

selfishly, roy prays to whoever is listening that it is not just him. ]

It has to be the illness. [ finally, in an odd tone. roy is fighting down the urge to panic, and it's hard-going. but he's winning the battle, for the time being. ] It likely . . . it won't be permanent.

[ it's temporary. it's temporary. that's how to get through this. but: ]

And even if it is, I -- [ no, that's not correct. roy did nothing. ] -- we did it before. We managed.

[ he's talking to himself, at this point, but knowing that riza is there is enough to quell the nerves. the anxiety. ]

We managed.

[ repeated, murmured. ]