#before anyone jumps down my throat I am being hyperbolic

[motokeith]

can we stop treating our participation in the voltron fandom as something horrific and shameful or is every single voltron post going to be prefaced with self-deprecation and disgust

[soyeahitsmiddleearth]

Return Her pt. 3

The Company (and friends) x Reader

Bard the Bowman is quite accommodating (and cute too), but how will the others feel about you clicking so easily with him?

No amount of words or hyperbolic phrase can express the joy you feel when you see Bilbo coming in clutch with a ring of keys and a big smile on his face. 

First he releases Thorin, and then you.

When he sees your disheveled appearance and swollen face he falters and looks as if he wants to say something. Bilbo says nothing, but his eyes linger on you as he goes to free some of the others.

Thorin immediately approaches you to you while Bilbo frees everyone else, his hand reaching up to lightly press against your warm cheek. “I told you Master Baggins would have a plan." 

You nod your head once, a smile brightening your features, "You did, and you were right.”

Once everyone is freed from their confines Bilbo ushers you all down to some sort of cellar, kitchen thing.

The first thing you notice are the unconscious guards - passed out drunk - behind the large shelf the hobbit snuck you behind. In front of you all is a huge pyramid of barrels and you can’t help but to stare at it with confusion.

The others speak in hushed whispers when Bilbo tells everyone to get into the barrels, and though a bunch of them protest Thorin shuts it down and tells them to just trust him.

Everyone files into a barrel each, and while you have to bend your legs awkwardly in order to fit into your own, you end up fitting rather well.

Bilbo stands a few paces in front of everyone and you find yourself wondering what he’s going to do next.

Suddenly there is shouting that comes from somewhere else and the guards start to stir, and right away Bilbo rushes over to a lever just out of the way and pulls it.

The next thing you know, your stomach drops and the barrels drop into a large body of running water.

Your head goes under and you breathe in the water unintentionally, panicking internally before your head resurfaces.

When you break the surface of the water you gasp loudly, pressing your hand to your chest as you hack and cough up the water you accidentally choked down.

You don’t have much time to recover before your barrel begins to drift away, like everyone else’s.

There’s a splash from behind you, and when you look back you see that Bilbo has jumped in.

He flails and grabs at air, trying to find something - anything - to hold onto.

You lean over the side of your transportation and grab for him, getting a hold of his hands and hauling him closer so to try and pull him up. “C-Climb in!” You cry.

Your efforts to hoist him up don’t do you any good, though, because he can’t get enough momentum to pull himself in nor do you have the upper body strength to lift him.

When you realize that you cannot keep ahold of him anymore you pass Bilbo along to a dwarf much stronger than you so he won’t drown, and the relief is instant. 

A lot happens between escaping and getting in the water, and when the Orcs try to kill all of you because they decided now was a great time to show up, you found hopelessness seeping into you.

Even worse? The water gates are closed and now you’re all stuck, barrels bumping into each other as Thorin yells his internal distress.

Kili decides to play hero and jumps out of his barrel, running up to pull the lever while also fighting orcs on his way, when suddenly an arrow shoots through the air.

At first it seems like Kili doesn’t realize what happened, but then he collapses with a cry.

“Kili!” Fili yells in anguish.

You begin to try and get out of your barrel, yelling his name as well, when an orc gains on him with it’s weapon raised. Another arrow splits through the air and this time it’s from an ally, for it kills the orc and Kili is out of harms way.

Your gaze snaps to the source of the projectile and see the red-headed elf Tauriel. 

As soon as you see her you whoop and pump your fist in the air, “Yes!" 

Her gaze slides over you and an expression akin to relief passes over her countenance, but you don’t get long to think on it for abruptly the gates open and everyone starts to flow out of the underpass.

Kili flops over the side and lands into his barrel, a gross snap resounding as the end of the arrow breaks off and flies in some random direction.

The expression on his face is pained, but when you try to inquire on if he’s okay the roaring of the water drowns you out.

Things move very quickly after that.

You grip onto your barrel for dear life as you fall down a short waterfall, head going under again, and when you resurface you splutter and cough loudly, your eyes and throat beginning to burn.

You’re vaguely aware of Orcs being killed around you and the elves chasing after the foul beasts, but you’re too dazed from the fast pace of things to properly process anything.

When an arrow pierces just under your hand, though, you sober up.

Since there isn’t any way that you can help anyone against the Orcs attacking you all, you begin to try and steer your barrel as it swerves left and right so they don’t have to worry about your safety.

The elves kill the orcs along the way and, probably unintentionally, keep you all safe. The blond-elf Legolas, who separated you from everyone at the beginning, gets saved by Thorin while he’s distracted with some other orcs.

You would’ve liked to see how the rest of it plays out, but one of the beasts jumps onto your barrel and swings it’s long sword seemingly out of nowhere; and to avoid losing your head, you duck down further into your barrel.

You vaguely make out the sound of someone calling your name, but the rushing water is so loud you can’t decipher who it is nor how close they are.

Something whips through the air as it tries to stab into you, and  when you look up there’s an arrow sticking in its head.

It falls back and when you poke your head back up you see Tauriel looking at you with her bow still drawn. 

You cup your hands over your mouth and yell, "Thanks, hot-stuff!” And then go back your barrel steering.

—

Many different things transpire after all the excitement.

For example Kili had to be tended to, Thorin started to be pushy and complain about losing time, oh and a bargeman is now smuggling you all on his boat for gold after threatening to kill Ori.

Everyone is now huddled together at the front of said bargeman’s boat, and after Oin took a look at the bruises so unfairly inflicted upon your arms and face he leaves you to your own devices at the back of the ship with the bargeman you now know as Bard.

They are all discussing the payment they owe, but since you have nothing to offer up (other than yourself which, I mean hey this guy is pretty good looking) you stay out of it. 

Bard looks on ahead at the waters to avoid killing you all in a crash, though his gaze flickers down to you ever so often with curiosity sparkling in his lovely greys *I have no freaking clue what color his eyes are*.

He then speaks softly, “This companionship you have with the dwarves… is it mutual?”

It takes you a moment to figure out what he’s implying before you realize how this all must look. A battered human girl quietly tagging along with a group of male dwarves, disheveled, bruised, and being timidly quiet away from the others curled up on yourself (for warmth, but he doesn’t know that).

Your face heats up and you nod your head frantically, “A-Ah, no… Er, yes. It’s mutual. I’m fine. They’re my friends, I just… ah, ran into trouble with the elves is all…”

His eyes look out over the water again and he nods his head, “I don’t doubt their honor, I am only making sure… But I never knew elves to be violent like that.” He looks at you again and you can see that he doesn’t completely believe your words.

“I know… The elf king, Thranduil I think, wanted me to tell him something but I didn’t wanna. I guess he’s just not used to someone telling him to screw off.” You smile cheekily (ignoring the throbbing that takes place when you do), and Bard seems taken aback before a smile of his own works its way to his face.

“I suppose,” he pauses for a moment, then muses, “The way you speak is odd. I’ve never heard someone quite like you before.”

Ah shoot, you forgot that you’re supposed to be blending in better. 

“Oh… yes. Um, I come from a place where.. speech patterns are much different. You see-” You’re cut off by one of the dwarves calling your name.

You sigh dramatically and stand, offering the bargeman a kind smile, “Forgive me. I have to see what those brats want.” Without further chit chat you turn and approach them, hands on your hips while you look down at them expectantly.

“What is it?”

They all stare at you for a few moments before Thorin speaks, “Why do you talk to him so? You’re not giving anything away now, are you?”

You just stare at him quietly with annoyance clear on your face. Like, did he really just ask that? After getting hit around and stuff for them you’d think he’d trust you a bit more.

“Of course not! After taking all of this”, you gesture to your face and arms, “to stay silent from that elf guy, for you, do you really think I’d go blabbing off to some man we all just met?” That sure silences them. 

“Maybe you shouldn’t talk to him so much. We don’t know him.” Dwalin grunts out earning an eye roll from you.

“I’ll talk to whoever I want thank you very much. I don’t need permission from any of you, I’m a big girl and a big girl can have friends.”

“Male friends?” This time it’s Fili, and you sigh loudly.

“Oh, you too? You’re all men! And you’re the only friends I have. How must that look?” Everyone goes quiet again, and this time you smile triumphantly. “That’s what I thought. Now… Bard, our host, is awfully lonely over there and I’m going to speak to him again- and you won’t say a word about it.” And you leave before anyone can say anything else. 

Dwalin grumbles something under his breath, and Thorin simply rolls his eyes while Fili mumbles his discontent to his agreeing brother. Even Bofur, Nori, and Dori are sneaking glances over at the two of you conversing every so often. 

It’s safe to say that they are rather jealous. 

[writing-royza]

Tainted Blood, Tainted Soul: Chapter Twelve - Truth is Hard to Swallow

A/N: Happy Wednesday, everyone! Sorry for the delay - as I said, there was a posting malfunction on Sunday night, and the last two nights, I’ve just been exhausted. Cold Canadian winter leach two things: warmth and energy. But the other night, I sat down and banged out a chapter in two and a half hours! I'll have to try and replicate that feat this week, but for now, enjoy!

Fair warning, this chapter contains high amounts of blood. I know you know that, but this time it's kinda… gross. proceed wtih caution.

I do not own FMA.

Chapter Twelve - Truth is Hard to Swallow

27 WHEELER STREET, EAST CITY

2307 HOURS, APRIL 16

Coming awake was a lot like regaining consciousness. Roy had no recollection of having fallen asleep, but from the groggy feeling lurking somewhere in the centre of his brain and the melted ice leaking slowly down his cheek, it must have been a while ago. Soft shifting sounds came from his left, where Riza had been in the armchair the last he knew. He reasoned that that was what had woken him; her movement as she prepared to stand up and get ready for bed, and if he wanted to join her….

Reaching up, he carefully pulled the folded washcloth from his face so as not to dump the remaining ice cubes everywhere. He set the small bundle on the floor, taking a moment to stretch luxuriously on the soft cushions — Grumman certainly knew how to pick a couch — before opening his eyes and lifting up on one elbow. He was opening his mouth to say something about heading to bed when the bizarre scene in front of him froze the words in his lungs.

A figure in a dark suit held Riza pinned in the chair by her wrists, kneeling across her lap. He was leaned forward, one long-fingered hand grasping her tightly by the chin. Roy was blocked by the stranger's body from seeing the majority of her face, but he could see her eyes.

They were wide, unblinking, and glassy with a combination of fear and … he wasn't sure what. They had the same faraway look she got during her occasional rounds of sleepwalking, but this seemed somehow… unnatural. She was making a noise he had never heard from her before, some type of soft click from deep in her throat, punctuated by the occasional wet-sounding gurgle or choked-off cough.

Unbidden, a soft, strangled-sounding "…What…?" dropped from his lips with all the weight of an anvil in the otherwise silent room.

In the space of a blink, the dark-clad man separated himself, ending up six feet away inside of a second. Blood seeped from a wound on his chest, smeared on the skin and oozing into the white fabric of his undone shirt. He paused a moment, staring directly at Roy… and then a smile spread behind the weird water-reflection shift of his face.

"Ah… I thought you were deeply enough asleep that my visit would go unnoticed," he commented mildly. "My mistake, Colonel. I must have gotten distracted and let my influence over you slip…. I'll have to remember that for next time." He sketched a quick bow in Riza's direction. "Lieutenant. A pleasure, as always."

Before either of them could react, he dashed toward the nearest window, hurling himself toward it. Roy tensed, waiting for the crash of shattering glass… and stared instead as the man's body elongated into a long string and shot out through the edge of the window frame.

Roy bolted off the couch, reaching for the tail end of the string, but his hand closed on empty air. He stood, feeling thoroughly confused, and watched as the man reformed down in the alley on the other side as though nothing had happened. He looked up, tipped a languid wave, and took three steps away from the street before vanishing into the shadows.

For a long second, he stood still, trying to make sense of what had just happened. Turning, hands on his hips, he said, "What the hell was —"

She was staring at him from the depths of the chair, her eyes almost impossibly wide. Riza seemed rooted to the spot out of pure shock, apparently unaware of the smears of blood covering her chin, nose, and parted lips.

Roy took a hesitating step in her direction… then felt the weight of his shock and horror drop fully onto his shoulders. "…Riza…. What the hell is going on?"

She seemed to stiffen at the mention of her own name, her mouth closing so fast that he heard her teeth click together. In another instant, he saw the hitch in her shoulders that signalled her hastily-suppressed gag before she pushed to her feet and bolted off down the hallway.

"Riza!"

He dashed after her, seeing the bathroom light flick on and the door slam shut just ahead of him. He skidded to a stop outside the door as the sound of the first retch came through the wood. Sympathy flooded his chest, and he cautiously eased the door open, slipping inside.

She was kneeling on the tile floor in front of the toilet, one hand braced against the tank, the other wrapped tightly across her stomach as she vomited. Roy settled to the floor behind her, resting a steadying hand high on her back. Just enough to let her know he was there, that she wasn't alone even as he swallowed hard against his own rising gorge.

At last, the heaving stopped, leaving her panting as she tried to get her breath back. Her hand groped blindly for the flush handle, washing away the evidence as she dropped back to a seat on the cool tile. Tearing off a length of toilet paper, Roy wadded it together and passed it to her without a word, his eyes on the flecks of red spattered just inside the toilet bowl where the water hadn't reached.

"Feeling better?" he tried, sounding lame to his own ears.

"Not by much," she admitted. She pulled the tissue away from her mouth, and stared at it in dull disgust. "…Dammit…." Her eyes rose to his, looking darker than usual in her pale face. "What about you?"

He laughed humourlessly. "Well, I've gone from piss-myself scared to just plain worried sick, so that's an improvement." Shaking his head, he leaned back against the wall. "Worried sick, confused, disbelieving…. It's all kind of jumbled together. For good measure…." His gaze turned firm when it met hers. "For good measure, let's throw in suspicion, because whoever or whatever that guy was, it seemed like he knew you."

Guilt shaded her features in the space of a breath, and her eyes fell to her hands. When she saw the bloodied tissue in her hand, she immediately dropped it into the toilet. "It's… not the first time he and I have met," she hedged.

Reaching out, he nudged her gently on the thigh, taking the sting out of his words. "And am I going to have to fight this new guy to win your affection?"

Her smile only reached one side of her mouth. "Maybe just to keep him away from me." She looked up, unsettled, shifting to sit cross-legged. "You… saw his face, didn't you?"

"Not in any true sense of the phrase." He frowned, trying to picture exactly what he had seen. "It was… blurry, kind of moving all the time, like the features were changing all the time, or…."

"Or like you were looking at him from underwater," she finished grimly. "That's all I saw as well, and it gets worse up close. I couldn't accurately describe what he looked like if I tried."

"At least it might confirm that he's the one behind the Central City murders," Roy pointed out. "Casella's sources said that no one could get a clear bead on what his face actually looked like… maybe because it was always changing." He paused, then frowned. "You've been the closest out of anyone. Did you get a look at his teeth, by any chance?"

She cast him an odd look, then drifted into introspection. "I remember him smiling at me — a broad smile that showed his teeth. But I don't — wait…." Realization dawned, and her gaze swung back to meet his. "I thought it was the result of the distortion, but… it did look as though he might have had pointed teeth."

"…All of them? Like a shark?"

Riza shook her head. "No, nothing that drastic. Just these ones." She pointed to her own upper canine teeth; Roy tried to ignore the faint smudge of red on the left one. "More like… more like a dog's fangs."

"Okay." And now, the question he was dreading the most. "And…what was he doing to you? Just a few minutes ago?"

He saw the bleak look come over her eyes, that expression that said this was a topic she was appalled by and truly didn't want to discuss. The same look came up whenever she was forced to talk about Ishval. Shifting, he settled behind her and drew her carefully back against his chest. "Riza, I know you don't want to relive it. I don't want to relive it, but I have to understand what's going on. You don't have to make eye contact, you don't even have to look at me, but I need you to tell me what happened."

He tucked his nose against the back of her neck, closing his eyes. "Talk to me. We've got enough secrets already; we don't need more."

She reached up, holding onto the arms wrapped around her in a comforting gesture of her own, and took a deep breath. "If we're starting from the beginning… I first saw him while we were still in Central. When we went to visit Hughes after the meeting with the Armstrongs and Scar. You remember, I went off on my own and left you to talk to him for a while?"

"Yeah. I thought you seemed kind of quiet when you came back, but I thought it must have been just being in the cemetery."

Riza shifted in his arms, just enough that she could look up and back at him if she wanted to; he took that as a good sign. "That was when I first thought he might be the killer. When we spoke to Casella, he said, 'The guy you're looking for could climb sheer walls.' I brushed it off as hyperbole, but… I saw this man do it." She frowned, looking off toward the far wall of the little bathroom. "Strange, though. He had a straight run at the wall from where I tangled with him, but he seemed to be looking for a specific spot. He took a running jump over a particular grave and then shot straight up the wall."

His frown furrowing his forehead, Roy leaned back against the side of the bathtub. "Maybe he knew that section had better hand and footholds?"

"If they were there, I couldn't see them, and I was only maybe eight feet away." She swiped at her mouth with a thumb, grimacing in distaste when it came away with a smear of blood.

Roy pressed a kiss to her temple. "Should I be even more concerned that you used the phrase 'tangled with him' or just keep the worry at its current level?"

She smiled. "Current level. I was all right. He said some things that made me think even then that he knew me, and when I tried to call him on it, he started a fight."

"Oh. So you're brawling in graveyards, now." Smiling, he shook his head. "Such ladylike behaviour. Go on, what'd he say?'

Riza thought back another moment, then continued. "He commented on my control over my temper — lacking a little in the last day or so, but nothing that can't be remedied. He also knew I'd been wounded recently, then insinuated that I was… changing, somehow. It almost sounded like the talks they give in Physical Health at school. 'Your body's changing, you're going through something, you're no different than others your age…' That sort of thing."

His mind had been drifting toward the memory of the incredibly stern and… detailed talk he had been given by his adoptive mother at the age of twelve, and he wrenched his thoughts away before he could develop a blush. "Did he say how you were supposed to be changing? Seems to me you would have grown out of puberty years ago."

She didn't smile at the joke. "He said… I wasn't 'complete,' like this alleged change was supposed to fill in some empty, missing part of me." She looked up. "Aside from the missing blood, though, I was under the impression all my associated parts were accounted for."

He laughed, briefly. "I would hope so. Anything else?"

She hesitated, clearly bracing herself to share this next piece of information. "After that… he leaned in and kissed me on the neck." She pointed to the injured side. "Right here. I guess proving he knew I'd been wounded there." When she caught the dark look on his face, she was quick to put a hand on his shoulder. "It was a power move, Roy, not a romantic one."

"Maybe so, but it's my move." Freeing one hand, he reached up and gently tugged the collar of her shirt away from her neck, inspecting the wound. "Between seeing him then and tonight, do you have anything in the way of a description that we can use in the investigation?"

"Not much." She tilted her head away from him, allowing him a clearer view of her neck. "Male, maybe six feet tall, wearing a dark suit and a black fedora. He used the brim to hide his face most of the time. Slender, wiry build. What I could get from that weird masking over his face: dark hair, eyes that were either dark, blue, or green, fair skin, and probably no facial hair." She grimaced. "And the pointed teeth."

Behind her, Roy went still, his eyes locked on the wound to her neck. "…You said he kissed you on the neck? That's all he did?"

She didn't move to look up at him, but clearly sensed his tension. "It was… more of a… a lick, if anything. A long one, like—" He caught the colour rising in her cheek. "Like you do, from time to time. But nothing more than that. Why?"

He leaned close, inspecting the marks on her skin minutely. "When you relapsed in hospital, the doctor found small marks on either side of the cut. He surmised there had been some bit of metal or something embedded in the skin that the bandage rubbed loose, but…." Tilting his head, he tried to line up the marks in a way that made sense… and didn't like the conclusion.

"All right. I'm going to say something here that's… it's just weird, but hear me out." Pulling back, he made sure to look her in the eye. "Those marks, either side of the cut? They're about the right space apart for a guy with pointed teeth to have… you know. Bit you."

For a moment, she simply stared at him. "Why would he bite me?"

"Why would he do whatever he was doing when I woke up and saw him?" he countered. "Which, by the way, you still haven't told me what he did."

Riza took a deep breath, her eyes darting briefly toward the toilet bowl. "He… trapped me in that chair," she said, slowly. She was choosing her words carefully, something he knew she did when discussing something she found uncomfortable. "I told him to get off, and he said he would, but all he did was open his shirt and give himself a long scratch." Reaching up, she trailed one finger on a diagonal from under her left collarbone to partway down the ribs on the right side. "Here."

He could feel dread welling up in his stomach, making him wonder if he'd be the next one to be bent over the toilet bowl. "And then?"

Her hand covered her mouth, her eyes returning to stare at the far wall again. The shock of it all was beginning to resurge, and he felt her body tense. "He, ah…." Riza swallowed hard. "He leaned closer, told me that after tonight, I wouldn't be the same, and…."

Fear wasn't something Roy was used to seeing in her eyes, and now that it was there, there was a distinct cracking feeling that came from the vicinity of his heart. He stayed silent, letting her work through her words, and snugged his arms a little more tightly around her.

"He basically pushed my face against his chest, and…. I kept trying to push away but he's… he's stronger than he looks." She shook her head. "I don't know how he was bleeding so badly from one scratch, but… it was everywhere. It nearly… I didn't want to open my mouth, so I… nearly suffocated when it… it clogged up my nose."

Roy closed his eyes, hating that he had to make her tell him. He could feel the muscles in her back shaking from continued tension, could hear the modulation of her voice dropping into a flat monotone as she began to mentally detach herself from what had happened…. But he had to know.

"When I realized I couldn't breathe… that's when I opened my mouth." She swallowed hard again. "I tasted blood, I could feel it seeping in…. He had my head tilted all the way back, so I… I had no choice but to…. To…."

"You had to swallow." The words came out in a whisper, and Riza nodded in confirmation.

"It kept up for maybe… five minutes? Just… more and more, and the entire time, he was just silent. He was breathing heavily, like… like he was…." She lifted both hands, pressing the heels of her palms into her eyes as she took a deep, shuddering breath. "Like he was turned on by it. And then you woke up, and he bolted, and I —"

"Ssssshhhhhh, it's all right." His hand went to her hair, alternately stroking the soft strands and holding her protectively against his shoulder. "You're okay, now. You threw up anything he made you take. You're okay."

She wasn't crying, but he knew she was dangerously close. With her face buried in his shirt, she took another convulsive breath. "Why do these people always seek me out?" she muttered darkly. "Kimblee in Ishval singled me out. Barry in Central, then Bradley, even the gold-toothed doctor in the tunnels under the city…. Not to sound sorry for myself, but why me?"

He smiled, the gesture shaky at best. "Guys like a woman who can kick their asses," he said half-heartedly. "Why do you think I'm with you?"

Her loose fist socked him lightly on the arm. "You're not like them," she said softly. "Don't ever compare yourself like that. Please? You're nothing like them…."

"I know. Sorry, defusing the situation with humour was never something I was good at." Curling a finger under her chin, he lifted her head until their gazes met. "Tell me what I can do to help. There has to be something."

Her smile was wan, but her eyes tracked over his shoulder to the bathtub faucet. "I don't suppose I could convince you to run a bath? I feel… dirty, for lack of a better word." Her hand found his, squeezing the fingers. "And then, maybe… join me in it? It sounds desperate, but I don't think I want to be more than two feet away from you right now."

Roy pressed a kiss to her forehead. "I'm not letting you farther away than one."

Ten minutes later, nestled in warm, bubble-filled water with her naked back resting against his equally naked chest, he watched the steady drip from the faucet, his face entirely blank… but his mind turned over exactly what fiery revenge he would exact on the strange man the next time they met. Riza was finally beginning to relax, now that the danger was past, but she had been hurt again.

His stomach churned at the memory of the smears of blood on her face, of the chilling, disturbing description of the man forcing his blood down her throat, of her own shaken voice as she told him what had happened. Even the thought of five minutes ago, when he had damped a washcloth in the hot, running water of the bath and carefully wiped the evidence of the event from her face…. It made him want to hold her closer against him, while at the same time his fingers itched for his gloves and a target.

Roy glared harder at the faucet, glad she couldn't see the fury he was working so hard to control. He hadn't even had his sight back for twenty-four hours, and already, he had failed in keeping her safe.

He was through letting that happen.

OUTSIDE 27 WHEELER STREET, EAST CITY

2353 PM, APRIL 16

He hovered outside the small bathroom window, unable to see through the frosted glass, but listening to the last splashes of water falling into the bathtub. Wasn't that sweet — his lover has a traumatic experience, and so Mustang sits with her in a romantic bubble bath to ease her tension.

Honestly, it was all a little pathetic. Then again, if Mustang was wrapped that badly around Hawkeye's finger, it would make her turning all that more painful for him, and the man's objective would be complete.

Unfolding his arms from the window sill, he let himself drop to the ground, landing lightly on the gravel around the side of the building. His hands in his pockets, he sidled off down the sidewalk, feeling nearly buoyant at the evening's success. Before, he had had to be within a certain proximity to Hawkeye to control her, but now….

He was perhaps 50 metres away, now, and he could still feel that presence at the back of his mind, as though he were aware of someone standing just behind him. She wasn't, of course. Her mostly calm presence was wrapped in an additional aura of contentment, which he associated as proximity to Mustang.

One day, little bird, those feelings will transfer to me. Once you realize that I'm the only choice you have.

Smiling smugly to himself, he moved off across town toward his hideout. There was no need to feed tonight, so he would take the time to rest and plan his next move.

Within 45 minutes, the bath was growing tepid, and the pair of them reluctantly dragged themselves out of the water. For the first time, Roy avoided looking at her bare skin as much as he possibly could. She still carried herself in a way that suggested unease, and for him to be eyeing her up when she was likely still skittish from the events of earlier just seemed… wrong.

With a towel wrapped around her, she reached for her clothes… then hesitated, her hand hovering just above the fabric piled on the floor. Without a word, Roy passed her the shirt he'd been wearing; she accepted it in equal silence. The unspoken thought passed between them: that's what I was wearing when he was here.

When he next glanced her way, it was to find her contemplating the closed lid of the toilet with a look of distaste. She looked back at him and caught his gaze, smiling sheepishly. "I should maybe clean that before going to bed," she murmured. "It probably shouldn't be left until —"

"I'll do it." Resting both hands on her shoulders, he nudged her toward the door. "Go on. I'll only be a minute."

Riza's smile was halfway amused, but still not at full strength. "Doesn't that count as letting me more than a foot away from you?"

"Call it incentive for me to hurry." The look he gave her as he reached for the toilet brush was firm. "It's nearly one a.m., Riza. Go; get to bed. I'll be there soon, I promise."

She lingered a moment longer, but disappeared into the hallway as he reached for the toilet lid. Even though it had been flushed, there were still one or two small spatters of a darkening red on the otherwise pristine porcelain. Roy washed them away with a quick scrub, flushed again, and replaced the brush in its holder. He straightened, moving to the counter to wash his hands, watching his own shirtless reflection in the wide counter mirror.

Just what was that… can't call him a 'guy,' because I doubt he's human, but… he's too human-looking to be called a 'thing.' Frowning, he dried his hands on a soft towel, the thoughts still flashing through his mind with hazy speed. He knew both of us, well enough to at least have some idea of our personalities and how we react to things…. And he's fast. Fast and quiet; Hayate didn't even bark —

His frown deepened, and he moved to the bathroom door. "Riza? Where's the dog?"

"In here, with me," came the answer from the direction of the bedroom. "He's been asleep the whole time; I think being in a new place has him tired out." The soft pad of her feet sounded, before she appeared in the doorway, her expression curious. "Why?"

Roy shook his head. "He stayed quiet through it all: through that… that stranger sneaking in here, through you being sick, through the bath… everything."

She had gone still, her expression watchful and alert. Glancing back over her shoulder, she kept her eyes steady in the direction of the bed for a moment before saying, "Well, the stranger said he could control people; he admitted doing it to you. Maybe it extends to dogs, too."

"Fair enough."

Looking back to him, she gave him that same soft, half-smile. "I think I've had enough of him tonight," she said, quietly. "Come to bed; let's try and get some sleep, and maybe things won't seem so crazy in the morning."

Roy tried to smile back, but knew he wasn't entirely successful. "Yeah, okay. Go ahead; I'll be in in a minute. I don't think I can sleep without checking that things are secure first."

She nodded, and disappeared into the room, and he headed back toward the living room. It was, he suspected, an exercise in futility to double-check the locks and windows; the stranger had already proven that he didn't need to use conventional entrances and exits. But, nevertheless, Roy checked that the apartment door was locked, and that all the windows were firmly shut. He avoided looking out into the nighttime street, not sure he could hold on to his sanity — or his temper — if he saw that shifting face at that moment.

He paused in front of the chair where the attack on Riza had happened. Small drops of blood stood out on the wood floor, several more on the fabric of the chair, with a couple of smears for good measure. Roy grimaced; he could clean up the floor and replace the chair easily enough… but it only compounded the fact that he was going to have to find some way to explain this to Grumman.

Explain it to Grumman; how am I supposed to do that when I can hardly understand it myself? he wondered, staring at the drying red drops on the floor. The old man was likely to ask if and what he'd been drinking if he tried to talk about it; it all sounded so completely implausible and farfetched. Like something out of a horror story.

With a quiet sigh, he turned off the light and headed back off down the hallway toward the bedroom. That familiar feeling, the one that had dogged him for six months when he knew Pride was watching, rose at the back of his neck. It prickled as the little hairs there stood on end, expecting a blow from the shadows at any moment. But none came, and he reached the welcome warm glow of the bedroom unscathed.

She was curled under the sheets, brown eyes watching the doorway from among the folds of fabric, the black Shiba Inu lying contentedly by her feet. Hayate lay Sphinx-like, with his head up and dark, intelligent eyes watching as Roy entered; his curled tail thumped the mattress in happy recognition.

"Well, you should be safe for the rest of the night, with two guard dogs," Roy commented, knowing the joke was a flat, lame one and unable to come up with anything better.

Riza smiled anyway, watching as he paused long enough to change into soft flannel pajama pants. She still wore his shirt, out of the comfort the garment gave her, he suspected. And he didn't mind in the slightest; if what it took to help ease her into sleep was wearing his shirt, she could keep that one and any of the dozen others like it in his closet.

She pulled the sheets back to allow him to slip in next to her, nestling herself against his side. Another bit of an oddity, since she preferred to have her space in order to fall asleep. Roy reasoned that if there were ever a night for oddities, it was tonight.

Leaning back against the pillows, somewhere in between sitting up and lying down, he wrapped one arm around her shoulders. "How're you doing now?"

She paused a moment before answering, using the time to take a deep, contemplative breath. "I'm… all right. Really. I… I think that now I've gotten rid of all the…." She faltered only briefly. "The blood, and now that he's gone, and that I know you're here…. I'm all right. And I'll be all right."

His stomach flipped a little at the reminding image of her bent over the toilet, coughing out nothing but red — "Speaking of that," he said carefully, "I don't mean to dredge it all up again, but… I've got to know. What he did to you, forcing you to… to drink blood like that…. Why?"

Her hair rustled against the shirt and the sheets as she shook her head. "If I knew, I would tell you. I'd also possibly be even more disturbed by it than I already am." She shifted, resettling herself even closer against his side, reaching out to wrap an arm around his chest. "All I can think of is that he did it for his own perverse kind of pleasure. Like I said, I could tell he was… he was getting off on what he was doing. He was turned on by it."

Absurdly, jealousy flared hot and liquid in his veins. Carefully quashing the emotion, Roy settled for a dark scowl. "As long as he doesn't think he's some kind of competition for me. I'm not having my girl stolen away from me by some twisted freak who's afraid to show his actual face."

Her laugh was small and drowsy, but it was at least a laugh. When Roy looked down, her eyes were closed, her body visibly relaxing beneath the soft cotton sheets. "If I've got to choose, you know I'll choose you every time," she murmured. She was quiet a moment, then stirred again. "Roy? It's silly, but… leave the light on?"

He pressed a kiss to her hair, deciding not to mention that he intended on staying awake as a guard anyway. "You got it. Get some sleep, love."

He supposed it was the emotional exhaustion and the warm bath combining that allowed her to drift off, but he himself couldn't relax. The arm he had wrapped around her went numb inside of half an hour, but he held still, refusing to let go of her. He needed her here, needed her close. Needed to feel her heartbeat and the soft exhales against the side of his chest.

Five hours until daylight, and probably seven until he could put his plan — the one beginning to formulate someplace deep in his mind — into action. She wasn't going to like it, in fact she was probably going to fight him tooth and nail on it unless he got the orders to come from higher up… but he couldn't let her stay here. Here in this apartment, in this city.

When he was sure she was asleep, he reached with his free hand for the nightstand on his side of the bed, pulling open the drawer and taking out one of the gloves he had placed inside earlier that day. Working his hand into it without letting go of her was something of a trick but he somehow managed it.

Until he could get her someplace safe, this would have to do. He would wait, he would watch, and if the stranger returned and didn't hypnotise him — or whatever that 'control' he'd spoken about was — before striking… there would be a fire to explain to Grumman, along with the bloodied chair in the living room.