[ he hates being sick. but this illness has been unlike anything he's experienced before. spending the last week trapped in hallucinatory hell, relieving memories he would rather forget, trapped in something he can't control or choose... whatever this was, it couldn't end soon enough.
but one day, when he woke up, his fever felt gone. he felt like he was in a calm state of mind for the first time in weeks, and he exhales, slowly but surely. relieved, to feel coherent and conscious. it was the middle of the night, pitch black in their room, but lighting a torch should be sufficient to light the room . . .
he shifts, sitting up, blinking repeatedly to try and get his eyes adjusted to the light. but it's still darkness, and he frowns to himself, unease beginning to edge into the corners of his mind. a certain familiar fear, in his stomach, but roy quells it. it's just dark outside. but soon, he hears the chirping of birds outside of the window. birds, he's since learned, come out in the early hours of the morning.
five minutes later, riza gets a voice message. roy meant it to be video, but this works all the same. and there's no voice, no sound of roy, but a series of tapping. urgent, but practiced. morse code, but not. a code that only she knows. each statement punctuated by two taps to signify the beginning of a new sentence. ]
W-H-E-R-E-A-R-E-Y-O-U
[ tap. tap. ]
H-E-L-P
[ tap. tap. and, a hesitation, before the last part. ]
[ it has been an exhausting string of days - with half the circle sick with a kind of uneasy sickness that caused not only a fever, but hallucinations and a whole slew of other symptoms, riza has been in overdrive. especially between roy, which is a handful and then some when it comes to being sick, and then everyone else it's a good thing that riza is used to being exhausted, used to working through that exhaustion, sleeping odd hours here and there and making it work towards her advantages.
on this particular hour, riza is out restocking supplies. she had plans to take a few towels and some food over to shiro and keith, to check that their fever hasn't gotten worse. there are a list of others she could probably also check in with, people she needs to ask, to look into, but she's trying to gauge just how long roy will be asleep before she needs to head back.
when the device buzzes, she knows her time is up, and riza takes a moment to reset her schedule. to pick up another pack of supplies as she reaches down for her phone, preparing to scold him for being awake, or to tell him it's fine, she'll be back in a few minutes, he just needs to be pat-
there are two taps, at first, and then a brief pause. not that riza needs much more than that. all she hears is two taps, and her blood runs cold, every piece of what she'd been thinking falling away. what was going on? why was he messaging her in code? what was happening? she listens, frozen to the spot in the middle of the hallway, listening.
he doesn't even get through the first two letters of the last word before riza is taking off - sprinting with a kind of energy that comes only with panic. whatever supplies she'd been holding are gone, to the point that it's honestly a blessing she even has her device.
not even five minutes later (four and thirty six seconds, if anyone wanted to be technical) riza is wrenching open the door to their room, her eyes wide as she hovers there a second, her eyes adjusting from the low lighting of the hallway to the darkness in the room. an irrational panic in her spikes at that (what if what if what if) before she sees roy's form in the corner of the room, on his bed. when she speaks, her voice just barely shakes. part of her recognizes she probably should have tried harder to steady it, but a larger part realizes that might not have helped. that he would be able to tell anyway. ]
Roy?
[ general doesn't come natural, for what feels like the first time, as she waits to hear back from him before stepping further inside. ]
[ it's suffocating, the sudden pressure in his chest. isolating. roy hates being alone. he thrives on people, on the energy around him, on people pushing him forward. it's when he's alone that he makes poor decisions, that he falls off of his path. he hates who he is when he is alone. and he feels alone.
so he uses the code because he knows it will send riza running. it's selfish, he knows, to do that, but he also has no idea if he's in this room alone. he has no idea where he is. he thinks it's their room (and logic tells him that it is their room), but he doesn't want to announce his weakness to the world. it's irrational, and foolish, and childish, but --
the door is ripped open, and roy instinctively jolts at the noise, jumping to attention -- remaining in bed, but his left hand immediately grasps at his side, toward a knife that he sleeps with, tucked into the side of his bedframe and mattress . . . but he stops, immediately, when he hears riza's voice. and, almost as immediately, roy feels safe.
he's fine, as long as riza is here to be his eyes. don't panic. ]
What time of day is it?
[ his voice is hoarse, and unusually quiet. not authoritative, and he's not looking at her. his eyes are closed, but his head is now tilted slightly in her direction. listening carefully. placing out where she is in the room from where he remembers the door is.
he already knows, but he needs to hear her say it. for confirmation. ]
[ for a brief, terrifying moment, the darkness feels familiar - akin almost to the dungeons under central, to the long hallways, to suffocating air. riza remembers the feeling, various points of that night that come back to haunt her in her sleep, of white rooms and echoes of voices and a blade across her throat. she has to blink the visions away as she sees roy's body shift on the bed, a tension slow away from it, and she grounds herself in the moment.
roy is blind. for whatever is going on, for whatever reason, he can't see. he needs her eyes. he needs her, and she can't let her own thoughts get in the way of that.
so when he asks, riza swallows back another sound. another shake in her voice. instead, she sounds sure, solid, as she takes a step inside - slow enough that he can tell, falling back on old habits, as she moves over to the table in the side of the room, where she know a lamp is just in reach, the door falling closed behind her. there is a small window in their room, with just the barest amounts of morning light peeking through, giving her enough to move as she steps inside. ]
Mid-morning, sir. [ there isn't so much a hesitation in the words as an uncertain tension, her hand reaching for a box of matches and striking one of them, turning on the lantern in the side of the room and giving the rest of their space a low glow.
she turns back to him in a slow, eased into moment, as she sees him sitting on the bed with his eyes closed. she swallows again, but waits - for orders, for instructions, for any kind of explanation. ]
[ 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. ]
[ she swallows, waiting for roy's reaction, waiting for whatever is happening to settle and for him to supply some kind of steps. some kind of plan. it feels a bit like she's stopped breathing, watching him stare out into the middle of the room. the apparent darkness.
panic slowly starts to swell in her gut, panic for him, but she pushes it away. swallows it back and steps further into the room, returning to an older way of moving. heavier footsteps, more specific movements. ]
Sir- [ because of course she heard the panic in his voice, of course she can feel the way he is forcing himself to calm down. it's half the reason riza can keep as calm as she is now, knowing that she needs to.
she keeps walking towards him, moving over and taking a seat on the bed next to him. she's moving slowly, deliberately, and when she settles into the spot next to him she pauses. there is a specific moment where he catches himself, correcting himself, and it sits heavily in her chest.
his fear, his frustration, she can feel it almost like it's her own.
that's when riza reaches out, setting her hand on top of his. ]
We managed, and we can manage again, until we find a way to fix it.
[ the feeling of her hand on his causes a tightening in his throat, and her repetition of his words makes it worse. it's going to be fine, regardless of what happens, but roy knows that riza knows the truth. that he's fighting down the urge to panic, and the urge to tear apart the temple to track down what had done this to him . . .
in amestris, he had been so consumed with what needed to be stopped that he hadn't stopped to focus on himself. he rarely did; most of his injuries were irrelevant in comparison to the ones his best men suffered, and pushing through his own pain to focus on the betterment of others was something roy was good at. this was different, though -- the calm afforded a chance to sit here, in darkness and silence, which made his skin crawl.
he had no alchemy, here. no firepower. and now, no eyesight. if he hadn't been useless before, he certainly was now.
he squeezes her fingers abruptly. ]
Stay with me.
[ it's said quietly; not as an order, or even a question. a tinge of frustration, at his own weakness, and urgency. ]
[ riza, in those few moments of silence, tries to wrap her head around what must be going thrugh his head. she can figure out the general sense of where his mind will go - from alchemy, to the truth, to the loss of his eyesight - and it's a brief second later that the real weight of it settles in her chest. the time, the lack of a war, roy - sitting in the dark - with just his thoughts. she bites on the inside of her cheek, then, a cheap way of hiding the sudden wave of panic that courses through her. biting back the fear itself.
it's a cheap move, knowing roy can't see it. knowing that familiar feeling of allowing herself the outward expression of it all because roy can't see her. it's not fair, none of this is fair, and when he squeezes her hand her eyes go down to where their fingers are now entertwined. briefly, she thinks back to central, to roy's tiny apartment, to nights spent n his living room simply giving him company to outrun exactly what he's probably trying not to think of in this exact moment.
so riza squeezes back, a simple, decisive moment. ]
Of course. [ said without even a moment's hesitation, with the kind of tone riza knows roy recognizes. absolute certainty, loyalty, like there isn't another place she could think to be. even at the face of more questions than answers, at roy's sudden loss of eyesight, at everything they've dealt with together over the years, there isn't anywhere she would rather be. and then, as if to try and lighten the mood- ]
[ his throat tightens, at the tone of her voice, the feeling of her hand in his. and he hates that he can't see her face, because roy can only imagine what is going through her mind. concern, guilt, frustration. fear. definitely fear, he can feel it, but all of that falls by the wayside at the tone of her voice.
into hell. no matter what. against all odds. they're alive, and still here, which is what matters. together, despite being dragged halfway across the universe, she's still here. he was stupid to doubt that she would leave now. ]
I never meant for us to go to hell.
[ he's not entirely sure why that is his response to her comfort, which bothers him, because roy is always so in control of what he says, and it falls out of his mouth before he can really think about it.
but after roy considers that, he sighs and settles himself back against the bedframe, still not letting go of her hand. it feels like a rope in the dark, knowing that she's right there. ]
[ she can feel him tense, though it's a near imperceptible feeling, at her attempt to lighten the mood. part of her is suddenly too worried about if she'd said something wrong, if she read his expression incorrectly. but when he does respond, that part of her fades. ]
I know. [ riza answers quietly. because she does. it is a good part of why she agreed to work for him in the first place, why she follows him to this day, and beyond. he is not looking for a fight, or a war, or hell - dragged up and put out on display all around them. they've survived all of those things, together. and she'd be willing to do it again.
that is when he shifts, moving to settle back against the bedframe, and riza quickly moves to settle with him. she knows, by his body language, by the grip he still has on her hand, that she's not moving any time soon - and she's okay with this knowledge, sliding out of her boots and moving into the space next to him, never once so much as loosening her grip on his hand.
and once she is settled, riza pulls their hands closer, setting them in her lap - his wrist settled on her thigh - and she brings her other hand closer, slowly running her thumb over the back of his knuckles. giving him the touch of both of her hands, so he can be aware of where they are. where she is. it is something she picked up from their first time through this, knowing how he prefered to know as much as he could without seeing, any kind of hint as to where she is, where her attention is.
the silence that settles around them in their room feels a little less heavy, she thinks, but she could be reading that wrong as well. ]
It feels as though your fever has broken, at least.
[ there’s a tension, at the sudden shifting of weight, but when roy feels riza sitting against him, he immediately relaxes. he shouldn’t; she’s in view of the door, and windows, and blocking him, and in whatever imaginary line of fire he envisions could descend upon them at any moment because of his condition. but she’s here, with him, and that’s what matters.
he’s acutely aware of her weight against him, his hand on her thigh, both of her hands on his. the weight in his chest doubles, a sudden anxiety forming at the thought, before roy decides that the effort of propriety is not worth the trouble, and he leans his weight against hers in return, resting his head against her temple. exhaling slowly. ]
I’m not sure which I prefer.
[ it’s an honest response, but also a tired one. ]
[ then again - she is also in a prime position to the door, the windows, the line of fire. she might have done that intentionally, putting herself directly where she can be most effective, because some things never change. some habits never break. roy is now - whether he wants to admit it or not - the weak point of the two of them, and riza steps in to space.
he is not helpless, she knows that. but she also knows - like there was before - that there will be a learning curve, and nothing will happen to him in that interim.
riza huffs a breath when he settles against her, thankful that he doesn't tense too much. that getting him to relax won't be too much of an uphill battle. that some part of this might even come easy. ]
You can think, and walk, and actually be a human being now. So I'd call that an improvement.
[ there’s another slow exhalation, his eyes remaining closed. there’s little point in them remaining open, at this point. ]
A modicum.
[ roy isn’t feeling very grateful, at the moment, though he knows that any improvement is worth celebrating and considering. still, he rarely allows himself to feel sorry for himself; roy supposes a few moments sulking will be well spent. ]
Thank you. [ finally, realizing roy hasn’t actually thanked her for taking care of him. ] I think you’re one of the few who didn’t actually get sick.
[ it's not a prime position to watch his expression, with his forehead pressed against her temple, and a good part of her wishes it was. wishes that she could at least see his expression, the slightest moments his face would shift with the new problem, just in case. but she also realizes that with his body along her side, his hand in her lap, there comes a point where maybe she is asking for too much.
still, her tone is amused, a bit breathy. ] A modicum is better than nothing.
[ at his thanks, riza pauses, considering the words. over the last few days, weeks, however long it's been, she hasn't found much time to really consider that. without much sleep, and whatever food she's gotten has been between errands, she hadn't had much time to notice. ]
I'm just glad someone wasn't sick. You and General Hughes can be quite a handful. [ said with a smile, of course - something he can probably feel with how close he is to her, the tone to her words. but then she exhales, relaxing a bit more where she sits, her fingers still running over the knuckles of his hand absentmindedly. ] But you're welcome.
[ he can tell; the tone of her voice, the movement of her face against his. the feeling of her hands against his, and there's a heavy weight in his chest . . . before he replays what she says in his head. you and general hughes can be quite a handful.. ]
[ he can tell. the second he asks the question, he can tell, and riza is suddenly second-guessing if she should have brought it up. except that for now, it's too late. he already knows. and riza simply exhales - not quite a sigh, but close. ]
He was. [ a pause, before riza brings herself to continue. ] His fever got to a point that he began to hallucinate. [ this is where roy can probably feel the tension building, crest, and then break as she sighs once more - giving in to the understanding that this will be shared. she will be telling him. he will know. ]
He called me Gracia. [ said more softly, her hands stilling where they'd still been running over the skin of his hands. ]
[ there’s a silence, at her admission, before roy matches her sigh with one of his own. The guilt he feels is nearly palpable, and he considers saying so, before he quells those emotions and instead speaks quietly: ]
I’m sorry.
[ it’s all he can think of to say, that riza had to deal with that, in addition to taking care of him. ]
[ her eyes close briefly - not exactly a safe move, considering she is the only line of sight in the room when it comes to possible assailants, but she takes the second anyway. just a moment, where her eyes fall closed and she takes a slow breath and is so, so, so thankful to simply have roy here. that she isn't doing this alone. ]
He's doing better. He'll get through this just fine.
[ and that is when riza's eyes open back up again, her eyes falling to him - how close his face is to her's - and then the door. she wants to be able to do more for him, to find a cure, to help him through this. her fingers slow to a stop over his knuckles. ]
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( voice ) backdated to about idk four days ago.
but one day, when he woke up, his fever felt gone. he felt like he was in a calm state of mind for the first time in weeks, and he exhales, slowly but surely. relieved, to feel coherent and conscious. it was the middle of the night, pitch black in their room, but lighting a torch should be sufficient to light the room . . .
he shifts, sitting up, blinking repeatedly to try and get his eyes adjusted to the light. but it's still darkness, and he frowns to himself, unease beginning to edge into the corners of his mind. a certain familiar fear, in his stomach, but roy quells it. it's just dark outside. but soon, he hears the chirping of birds outside of the window. birds, he's since learned, come out in the early hours of the morning.
five minutes later, riza gets a voice message. roy meant it to be video, but this works all the same. and there's no voice, no sound of roy, but a series of tapping. urgent, but practiced. morse code, but not. a code that only she knows. each statement punctuated by two taps to signify the beginning of a new sentence. ]
W-H-E-R-E-A-R-E-Y-O-U
[ tap. tap. ]
H-E-L-P
[ tap. tap. and, a hesitation, before the last part. ]
B-L-I-N-D
hey how about fuck you.
on this particular hour, riza is out restocking supplies. she had plans to take a few towels and some food over to shiro and keith, to check that their fever hasn't gotten worse. there are a list of others she could probably also check in with, people she needs to ask, to look into, but she's trying to gauge just how long roy will be asleep before she needs to head back.
when the device buzzes, she knows her time is up, and riza takes a moment to reset her schedule. to pick up another pack of supplies as she reaches down for her phone, preparing to scold him for being awake, or to tell him it's fine, she'll be back in a few minutes, he just needs to be pat-
there are two taps, at first, and then a brief pause. not that riza needs much more than that. all she hears is two taps, and her blood runs cold, every piece of what she'd been thinking falling away. what was going on? why was he messaging her in code? what was happening? she listens, frozen to the spot in the middle of the hallway, listening.
he doesn't even get through the first two letters of the last word before riza is taking off - sprinting with a kind of energy that comes only with panic. whatever supplies she'd been holding are gone, to the point that it's honestly a blessing she even has her device.
not even five minutes later (four and thirty six seconds, if anyone wanted to be technical) riza is wrenching open the door to their room, her eyes wide as she hovers there a second, her eyes adjusting from the low lighting of the hallway to the darkness in the room. an irrational panic in her spikes at that (what if what if what if) before she sees roy's form in the corner of the room, on his bed. when she speaks, her voice just barely shakes. part of her recognizes she probably should have tried harder to steady it, but a larger part realizes that might not have helped. that he would be able to tell anyway. ]
Roy?
[ general doesn't come natural, for what feels like the first time, as she waits to hear back from him before stepping further inside. ]
kisses
so he uses the code because he knows it will send riza running. it's selfish, he knows, to do that, but he also has no idea if he's in this room alone. he has no idea where he is. he thinks it's their room (and logic tells him that it is their room), but he doesn't want to announce his weakness to the world. it's irrational, and foolish, and childish, but --
the door is ripped open, and roy instinctively jolts at the noise, jumping to attention -- remaining in bed, but his left hand immediately grasps at his side, toward a knife that he sleeps with, tucked into the side of his bedframe and mattress . . . but he stops, immediately, when he hears riza's voice. and, almost as immediately, roy feels safe.
he's fine, as long as riza is here to be his eyes. don't panic. ]
What time of day is it?
[ his voice is hoarse, and unusually quiet. not authoritative, and he's not looking at her. his eyes are closed, but his head is now tilted slightly in her direction. listening carefully. placing out where she is in the room from where he remembers the door is.
he already knows, but he needs to hear her say it. for confirmation. ]
sjdhflskjdhflskjd
roy is blind. for whatever is going on, for whatever reason, he can't see. he needs her eyes. he needs her, and she can't let her own thoughts get in the way of that.
so when he asks, riza swallows back another sound. another shake in her voice. instead, she sounds sure, solid, as she takes a step inside - slow enough that he can tell, falling back on old habits, as she moves over to the table in the side of the room, where she know a lamp is just in reach, the door falling closed behind her. there is a small window in their room, with just the barest amounts of morning light peeking through, giving her enough to move as she steps inside. ]
Mid-morning, sir. [ there isn't so much a hesitation in the words as an uncertain tension, her hand reaching for a box of matches and striking one of them, turning on the lantern in the side of the room and giving the rest of their space a low glow.
she turns back to him in a slow, eased into moment, as she sees him sitting on the bed with his eyes closed. she swallows again, but waits - for orders, for instructions, for any kind of explanation. ]
no subject
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. ]
no subject
panic slowly starts to swell in her gut, panic for him, but she pushes it away. swallows it back and steps further into the room, returning to an older way of moving. heavier footsteps, more specific movements. ]
Sir- [ because of course she heard the panic in his voice, of course she can feel the way he is forcing himself to calm down. it's half the reason riza can keep as calm as she is now, knowing that she needs to.
she keeps walking towards him, moving over and taking a seat on the bed next to him. she's moving slowly, deliberately, and when she settles into the spot next to him she pauses. there is a specific moment where he catches himself, correcting himself, and it sits heavily in her chest.
his fear, his frustration, she can feel it almost like it's her own.
that's when riza reaches out, setting her hand on top of his. ]
We managed, and we can manage again, until we find a way to fix it.
[ her hand squeezes around his, affirmative. ]
no subject
in amestris, he had been so consumed with what needed to be stopped that he hadn't stopped to focus on himself. he rarely did; most of his injuries were irrelevant in comparison to the ones his best men suffered, and pushing through his own pain to focus on the betterment of others was something roy was good at. this was different, though -- the calm afforded a chance to sit here, in darkness and silence, which made his skin crawl.
he had no alchemy, here. no firepower. and now, no eyesight. if he hadn't been useless before, he certainly was now.
he squeezes her fingers abruptly. ]
Stay with me.
[ it's said quietly; not as an order, or even a question. a tinge of frustration, at his own weakness, and urgency. ]
no subject
it's a cheap move, knowing roy can't see it. knowing that familiar feeling of allowing herself the outward expression of it all because roy can't see her. it's not fair, none of this is fair, and when he squeezes her hand her eyes go down to where their fingers are now entertwined. briefly, she thinks back to central, to roy's tiny apartment, to nights spent n his living room simply giving him company to outrun exactly what he's probably trying not to think of in this exact moment.
so riza squeezes back, a simple, decisive moment. ]
Of course. [ said without even a moment's hesitation, with the kind of tone riza knows roy recognizes. absolute certainty, loyalty, like there isn't another place she could think to be. even at the face of more questions than answers, at roy's sudden loss of eyesight, at everything they've dealt with together over the years, there isn't anywhere she would rather be.
and then, as if to try and lighten the mood- ]
into hell, remember?
no subject
into hell. no matter what. against all odds. they're alive, and still here, which is what matters. together, despite being dragged halfway across the universe, she's still here. he was stupid to doubt that she would leave now. ]
I never meant for us to go to hell.
[ he's not entirely sure why that is his response to her comfort, which bothers him, because roy is always so in control of what he says, and it falls out of his mouth before he can really think about it.
but after roy considers that, he sighs and settles himself back against the bedframe, still not letting go of her hand. it feels like a rope in the dark, knowing that she's right there. ]
But I remember.
no subject
I know. [ riza answers quietly. because she does. it is a good part of why she agreed to work for him in the first place, why she follows him to this day, and beyond. he is not looking for a fight, or a war, or hell - dragged up and put out on display all around them. they've survived all of those things, together. and she'd be willing to do it again.
that is when he shifts, moving to settle back against the bedframe, and riza quickly moves to settle with him. she knows, by his body language, by the grip he still has on her hand, that she's not moving any time soon - and she's okay with this knowledge, sliding out of her boots and moving into the space next to him, never once so much as loosening her grip on his hand.
and once she is settled, riza pulls their hands closer, setting them in her lap - his wrist settled on her thigh - and she brings her other hand closer, slowly running her thumb over the back of his knuckles. giving him the touch of both of her hands, so he can be aware of where they are. where she is. it is something she picked up from their first time through this, knowing how he prefered to know as much as he could without seeing, any kind of hint as to where she is, where her attention is.
the silence that settles around them in their room feels a little less heavy, she thinks, but she could be reading that wrong as well. ]
It feels as though your fever has broken, at least.
no subject
he’s acutely aware of her weight against him, his hand on her thigh, both of her hands on his. the weight in his chest doubles, a sudden anxiety forming at the thought, before roy decides that the effort of propriety is not worth the trouble, and he leans his weight against hers in return, resting his head against her temple. exhaling slowly. ]
I’m not sure which I prefer.
[ it’s an honest response, but also a tired one. ]
At least I can think, now.
no subject
he is not helpless, she knows that. but she also knows - like there was before - that there will be a learning curve, and nothing will happen to him in that interim.
riza huffs a breath when he settles against her, thankful that he doesn't tense too much. that getting him to relax won't be too much of an uphill battle. that some part of this might even come easy. ]
You can think, and walk, and actually be a human being now. So I'd call that an improvement.
no subject
A modicum.
[ roy isn’t feeling very grateful, at the moment, though he knows that any improvement is worth celebrating and considering. still, he rarely allows himself to feel sorry for himself; roy supposes a few moments sulking will be well spent. ]
Thank you. [ finally, realizing roy hasn’t actually thanked her for taking care of him. ] I think you’re one of the few who didn’t actually get sick.
no subject
still, her tone is amused, a bit breathy. ] A modicum is better than nothing.
[ at his thanks, riza pauses, considering the words. over the last few days, weeks, however long it's been, she hasn't found much time to really consider that. without much sleep, and whatever food she's gotten has been between errands, she hadn't had much time to notice. ]
I'm just glad someone wasn't sick. You and General Hughes can be quite a handful. [ said with a smile, of course - something he can probably feel with how close he is to her, the tone to her words. but then she exhales, relaxing a bit more where she sits, her fingers still running over the knuckles of his hand absentmindedly. ] But you're welcome.
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How sick did Maes get?
[ quietly, murmured almost into her hair. ]
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He was. [ a pause, before riza brings herself to continue. ] His fever got to a point that he began to hallucinate. [ this is where roy can probably feel the tension building, crest, and then break as she sighs once more - giving in to the understanding that this will be shared. she will be telling him. he will know. ]
He called me Gracia. [ said more softly, her hands stilling where they'd still been running over the skin of his hands. ]
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I’m sorry.
[ it’s all he can think of to say, that riza had to deal with that, in addition to taking care of him. ]
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He's doing better. He'll get through this just fine.
[ and that is when riza's eyes open back up again, her eyes falling to him - how close his face is to her's - and then the door. she wants to be able to do more for him, to find a cure, to help him through this. her fingers slow to a stop over his knuckles. ]
You both will.