Fullmetal Alchemist Fan Fiction ❯ Of Ballet and Bullets ❯ Pulp Fiction ( Chapter 15 )

Of Ballet and Bullets

 

Part 15 - Pulp Fiction

 

A Full Metal Alchemist fanfiction, By Serenanna

 

Warnings and Disclaimers: I don't own Full Metal Alchemist or any of the characters. I'm just borrowing them to play with. I'll return them later, promise. There is violence, adult content, and sexual situations in this story. So, if you're under 18, leave now before your virgin eyes are scarred forever, if you're over 18, enjoy!

 

Story Notes: I'm begging you, dear readers, for the enjoying of everyone else reading this fic eventually, don't spoil it by giving away the plot twists about to drop from here on out to the end of the climax (heh). Given the build up to this point, it would be a disservice to your fellow readers.

 

That said, there is also some highly inflammatory content in this chapter that will happen to one character. You'll know it when you see it. I will be keeping it as non-graphic as I can. If it gets to you, I'm sorry. And no, don't panic, no one's dying. There are far worse things than death although. You'll love me, hate me, or maybe flame me for this, but . . . I couldn't tell this story otherwise. Again, I'm sorry.

 

Time frame for this fic doesn't matter as my knowledge of FMA is a bit scattered but obviously before the ending and Maes's death, and set during the anime series. Also, this is an Ed/Winry and Roy/Riza fic (Two for the price of one!). Being this is fanfiction, liberties were taken with the actions of the characters and certain parts of the fic are not canonal, I just don't know which ones. Read the above disclaimers again if you're still squeamish about reading this, blood splatter included, but I assure you, it'll be worth it in the end probably. Again, no pieces of automail, skirts, guns, tuxedoes, or ballet dancers were harmed in the production of this piece of . . . well . . .

 

**********

 

Roy shivered at the cold. He couldn't remember much of the walk after being taken from the truck except that it was limb-numbingly cold without a coat. And if he was cold, Riza in her thin, and very exposing, silk gown must have been frozen by the time the wind had stopped, signaling that they had entered a building. He had tried to remember the steps he'd taken once they were out of the snow, blinded by the cloth bag that remained on his head, but there was one twist in the path too many to remember. The only thing he remembered clearly was the opening of a door before he was shoved inside and forced to sit on the most uncomfortable wooden chair in creation. One pair of rough hands held his arms still as another undid the cuffs and repositioned them around the back of the chair before wrapping his wrists in freezing chains. The hands then worked on similarly chaining his ankles to the chair's legs.

 

Finished, Roy was left alone in silence for the moment, still shivering. What exactly did these people have planned for them? Riza said they were interested in the two of them alone, but why? They were clearly a military-style unit in execution and tactics, methodical and cool, not amateurs or overly passionate like the people of Ishbal or Lior. Military covert-ops? No, he hadn't pissed off anyone that far up, yet. That company, Delmark Arms, was the only suspect left on the table. But why? What did he ever do to them?

 

Well, there was Riza's crazy theory.

 

No matter how much evidence there was, he still couldn't wrap his head over the fact that he had been the target all along. Ok, so maybe he could list any number of people in the military that would want him dead, but none of them were any of his ex-lovers either. Perhaps he was still in denial, but to think that Margie, no matter how upset or vicious she was, could be the one pulling the strings of all their problems was about the most ludicrous things he'd ever heard. There was no way in hell she could possibly be the one responsible.

 

Besides, there were more important things at the moment, like the fear currently making his blood pound in his ears. If he was the only one taken into that particular room, then where was Riza?

 

He heard the door open again, and a scuffle of feet, turning his covered head towards the noise. Suddenly he felt wood pressed into the back of his hands, another chair, followed by a feminine grunt and the feel of something warm and smooth on his palms. Silk, he had to be touching silk. The fear he had been feeling melted away. She was alive and behind him. Roy could hear the chains being wrapped over her hands along with the sounds of her struggling. That was his girl alright, never one to give in. But then the sounds she made stopped with the rustle of cloth and the smack of skin on skin, “Stupid bitch.”

 

Roy's bound hands tightened into fists. Another person to add to his need-to-immolate list. The cloth over his head was ripped off roughly, yanking his neck forward as he cringed. The wonderful treatment didn't make his headache feel any better. At least he could clearly hear the harsh chuckle above him even if his vision was still spotting. Blinking and groaning, Roy squinted up to see the man turn away, walking out a door to his left with at least two others. When the portal slammed shut, the Colonel finally relaxed in the chair as much as he could with being tied to it. They were alone, weren't they? He twisted, trying to look over his shoulder to see any piece of the woman behind him. “Riza?” Roy whispered to no response after a few moments, “Lieutenant?”

 

When Mustang felt a pair of icy hands touch his, he jumped, almost missing her soft utterance of, “You're still warm . . .”

 

He grabbed her cold fingers, clutching tightly, “Riza, are you alright?”

 

“I'm fine . . . just cold . . .” she trailed off then suddenly moaned in pain, “When we get out of here, I'm teaching those bastards what it feels like to get punched in the stomach.”

 

Roy's dark eyes rolled upwards. When they got out of there, such wishful thinking from a usually highly practical woman. “Speaking of getting out of here, I'm open to suggestions,” he muttered, glancing around the bare room.

 

He didn't see anything helpful present hanging on the plain slate blue walls, as if he was of was much use anyway. His gloves were gone, and his hands were tied, literally. The best he could do at the moment was attempting to warm Riza's chilled fingers. She must not have had any ideas of escape either as she went silent. Slowly, it sunk into Mustang that short of a timely rescue from either the brat or his men, there was no escaping whatever was in store for them. His grip on her hand tightened until he could feel her start to struggle, “Roy, any tighter and you're going to crush my fingers.”

 

His hold on her loosened, “Sorry . . .”

 

They both fell silent again, unknowing that both of them were each staring down at the ground while lost in thought. “Roy?” the blonde asked after what felt like an eternity, shivering slightly.

 

“Yes?”

 

“When was the last time you were scared like this?”

 

“Ishbal . . . but it wasn't for the same reasons.”

 

“I . . . I think I'm afraid of what's going to happen to us . . . just a little,” Riza admitted, her voice rather small even if it didn't betray the fear she must have felt, “It's worse than that one time when-.”

 

“Or the time when-.”

 

“Yeah, I remember that one . . .” she suddenly laughed, and loudly, not the cute little giggles he was used to receiving after whispering something particularly naughty to her. Roy frowned, letting go of her hands. “This isn't funny, Riza,” he grumbled, “And neither was my trip to the hospital after that incident.”

 

“But you don't know what I was thinking about.”

 

“Don't want to know.”

 

“I know, I know, I'm sorry, but it's just . . . I was remembering though how your butt looked in that hospital gown.”

 

For a split second a grin spread over Mustang's face till he remembered that they were still in trouble, “Lieutenant, focus, please?”

 

“Yes, sir.”

 

“They really took all your guns?”

 

She sighed in remorse, “Yes.”

 

The Colonel frowned, “And they took my gloves, which leaves our combat capabilities at . . . nil.”

 

“Thank you for stating the obvious, Roy. Even if we still had our weapons how would we even release our hands to use them?” Riza growled in frustration, and he heard her moving around on the chair against the chains, “If I just had one pistol, even a tiny one, I could shoot through these things and-.”

 

She suddenly stopped moving, her words cut off. He moved around in the chair trying to get a glimpse of what made her pause, “Lieutenant?”

 

“Did they just take your gloves, Roy?”

 

His dark eyes widened, “You tell me. I was kind of unconscious at the time.”

 

“How am I to know?! I was being corralled into a truck at the time!”

 

“Riza, did they search FullMetal and me thoroughly or not?”

 

She sighed, “I don't know . . .”

 

“You don't know?”

 

“I just said I didn't know. Shall I move my chair to feel you up just to make sure?”

 

“That actually sounds kind of nice, Lieutenant.”

 

“Sir . . .” she murmured dangerously, “Time to focus, please? Where were all your guns.”

 

“One in the shoulder holster and one . . .” Roy trailed off, remember exactly where there was a second gun on his person, “It's holstered down the back of my pants.”

 

Riza inhaled sharply, trying not to gasp, “Is it still there?”

 

He didn't need her prompting question to start wiggling in his seat, trying to feel for the gun somewhere under his jacket and at the waistband of his trousers. Letting go of her hands and feeling through the wooden slats, he immediately came upon a lump. The gun was still there. Twisting, Roy tried to slid his entire hand through the back of the chair and up the jacket but with little lucky. No matter how much he pushed back, or grunted with effort, or came close to breaking his wrist, the tips of his fingers could only get through enough to graze the gun's handle. Giving up, he collapsed back in the chair, “It's there, but I can't get it. My hand's too big.”

 

“Let me try,” Riza said as the chains clinked from her shuffling. Her hands strained against the metal links, reaching through the wood slats to touch the back of his jacket. Roy jumped as her fingers pulled on his jacket, “Stop that.”

 

“This isn't a time to be ticklish, sir.”

 

“I'm not being tickled, I'm being groped. Reach those hands higher, Lieutenant.”

 

She squeezed and felt hard flesh through the woolen cloth instead of hardened metal, blushing as she murmured, “Um, sorry.”

 

Trying again, she reached upwards, past his belt till she felt a smoother cloth contrasted with cool metal. “To your right a little,” Roy mentioned, twisting in the chair, “Do you feel it?”

 

She could feel it alright, but the way he asked it couldn't stop the laughter bubbling out of her voice. He groaned, “Focus, Lieutenant.”

 

“Right, sorry,” Riza apologized between snorts of giggles, steadying her hands as she calmed down. This wasn't the time for silliness. They needed that gun. Breathing deeply, she reached for the weapon again, slowly pushing the muzzle up and out with one hand while waiting for it to fall into the other. She almost had it past the belt when Roy suddenly jerked. The blonde gasped, fumbling when the handle fell into her palm and nearly slipped right out, “Damnit, Roy! I almost dropped it!”

 

“You got it?! What are you waiting for?! Blow these-!”

 

“Are you nuts?! Keep it down!” she screeched back before turning down the harsh hiss of her voice as well, “Do you want to alert every guard in the area to what we're doing?”

 

Roy's mouth snapped shut and he relaxed in the chair again, “Well, they're going to hear that gun as soon as you fire it . . . Can you aim it at your chains?”

 

Riza thought about his question, shifting experimentally in trying to find a place to aim the barrel of the gun. It was actually rather simple for her to aim the gun at her own bonds. Whoever had wrapped the chains on her wrists had given her enough slack to wedge the pistol right at the lock in the center and still be able to pull the trigger. But the sound would draw all the wrong types of attention. She could never free herself and Roy before company with bigger guns arrived. Her mind flipped over that thought. Both of them could never make a break for it, but why would he ask her if he could free herself unless . . . ? The blonde shivered. It was just like Roy to put everyone else before him, especially her. “No,” she said, loud and clearly enough for him not to miss her words.

 

“No? What do you mean no? You mean you can't fire off your chains?”

 

“I mean I'm not leaving you behind . . . sir.”

 

Roy muttered a curse under his breath. He should have known better. Of course she would have figured it out before he even proposed the idea. And she already beat him past the explanation and went right to the fighting. The Colonel jerked in the chair in frustration, “This isn't a discussion, Lieutenant, especially if I order you to free yourself and go.”

 

“You're right, Roy, this isn't a discussion because I'm not leaving you.”

 

“Riza . . .” he growled her name, low and threateningly even if he lacked the usual fire to back it up, “They want me the most. Why else go to all this trouble? They want something from me most likely, and you . . . you are my weakness and their way to get what they want.”

 

“Pardon me, sir, but no shit,” she growled back with just as much venom, “They have FullMetal and the Rockbell girl to use as collateral against you as well. You would cave just a quickly if a gun was put against their heads as much as my own, so don't even-.”

 

“One, leave the cursing to me, Riza. And two, you have no idea what I will and won't cave to, so don't presume to know. And three, I will not-,” Roy tired to say before choking on his words. Her head turned at the noises he made, emotions shifting from anger to concern. When he finally did speak again, there was a hesitation in his tone that made her wonder what he kept to himself, “I will not let you be used as a bargaining piece against me. Get out of here, Riza, and get help.”

 

“No,” she spat back even if her voice choked over that simple word too, “I'm not leaving you, Roy.”

 

“Damnit, Riza! Do as I say!”

 

“Keep it down!” the blonde yelled back, ignore the beads of moisture forming in her brown eyes, “I swear I will not leave you. You cannot persuade me otherwise.”

 

“I order you to blast through those chains and go, Lieutenant,” Roy threatened, “Or else it's insubordination. I swear I'll have you court-martialed.”

 

“Then, quite frankly . . . Make me, Colonel, because I'd love see you try.”

 

He never should have even tried that threat; it never worked since he never could court-martial any of them willingly. Mustang groaned frustration, his head flopping back against hers, “Why do you have to be such a difficult woman? Just . . . go, Riza, please? I can withstand anything, except . . . Please, save yourself.”

 

The heartbroken sincerity in his voice made the water in her eyes spill over, a tear falling down her cheek. Why did he have to be so selfless? If she did leave, then what? He could be dead by the time she found help, or she could die trying to escape anyway. In the end, whether she stayed or went wouldn't make much of a difference. After all, if this was the end for the both of them, she didn't want to be anywhere else except with him. Her head hung low, “I swore I wouldn't leave you, and I won't. Why can't you understand that this is my choice? You're my Colonel, and . . . Please, just don't ask me to abandon you, Roy, because I never will . . . I-.”

 

He cut her off with a resigned sigh, “I know . . .”

 

They both fell silent, both unknowingly staring at the floor together again. The feeling of certain dread and certain uncertainty had settled over them once more. Why did she have to be so stubborn? Why couldn't he see how she felt? If things had been different, if they could change the past, would they still have been there, chained to chairs while waiting for their fate to make itself know? The moments seemed to drag on until Riza felt Roy's hands over hers and the gun. She stiffened, her finger still on the trigger, “Don't-.”

 

“I know, I won't do that,” Mustang reassured her gently despite the raspy edge on his tone, “I . . . I won't make you leave. Just let me hold your hands a little while longer.”

 

“Don't talk like that. We're not going to die,” she cringed, wishing she hadn't cursed that thought into existence, “I mean, anything could happen, but . . .”

 

“I know, Riza . . . There are worst things than death . . .”

 

She shivered, “Please. Don't talk anymore. I don't want to think about it.”

 

“I just wanted to tell you, just in case, that . . . I-.”

 

“I already know.”

 

Roy's grip on her hands tightened, but if it hurt her, she didn't say anything. Her head fell back against his, pressed close enough that he could almost sense the rapid pulse in her veins. He glanced over to the door they had come through. No matter what walked into the room to greet them, they would face it, together.

 

**********

 

Ed peeked around the corner to find the hallway empty then waved back to Winry as she stood next to his shoulder. She slid past him, creeping around past him. The mechanic girl clung to the improvised wrench instead of toting it happily like when they first left their cell. After the first set of guards they ran into with guns, he didn't blame her for being more cautious rather than adventurous. With her leading the way, the young alchemist was feeling more cautious himself. “Are you sure we're going the right way?” he asked for about the tenth time since she initially ran off.

 

“How would I know for sure? I did the best I could to try to remember the way here, but I'm not perfect like you.”

 

“No kidding, you keep forgetting pieces and parts of me,” Edward groused at her, “I can remember over one hundred different transmutation circles and you can't even remember one lousy screw.”

 

Her hands tightened on the wrench till her knuckles turned white, taking a few more steps down the hall. Winry's shoulders twitched, and he ducked on instinct, knowing exactly what he mouth had wrought. And yet, about five seconds after he realized his mistake, the wrench didn't connect with his head. Instead she snorted and hefted the weapon over to her other shoulder, “If you don't like my work then find yourself a new mechanic, one who will do shoddy work and charge you your other arm and leg.”

 

Ed winced, about to open his mouth with yet another apology when her rant continued, “And another thing. My work is vastly more complex than your little drawings or clapping your hands to make that light show of yours. Once you can assemble one sliding elbow joint that doesn't catch and can connect it to the micro motors without it seizing and then machine the cover plates so that it looks remotely human, then you can criticize me on forgetting one lousy screw.”

 

“Ah, I didn't mean it like-.”

 

Winry growled in frustration, stamping her foot on the stone floor as they came to another intersection, “Great! Now I'm so angry I forgot which way we were supposed to go next!”

 

She slumped, putting her hand up against the wall to lean against it. Why did he have to pick that moment to insert his foot into his mouth once more? Being angry with him again was getting old quickly. She didn't want to be angry with him. It just so happened that he knew exactly which of her buttons to push, intended or not. And he pushed them almost every time he was with her, intended or not. Then again, he also knew which ones to push to put her back together again after falling apart.

 

Ed moved up next to her, craning up slightly to put his head on her bare shoulder. She stiffened, grip on the wrench still tight. Just once she wanted to go back to whacking him and not feeling guilty. As he lowered his face to nuzzle her skin, she relaxed, letting go of the deep breath she held. His lips brushed over her and her knee weakened, nearly missing the apology he whispered into her flesh, “I'm sorry?”

 

Winry grumbled and shrugged him off. He was indeed blessed by being so cute, “Come on. I think I remember now. It's this-.”

 

Just as her hand rose up to point straight ahead, she froze, “-way.”

 

At the other end of the hallway stood two men in black, staring back at them in equal shock. Standing still even as they reached for their guns, Ed shoved her backwards and against the wall, “Stay here!”

 

She heard the clap, the flash of light, and the shriek of metal before watching as he took off down the hall towards the guards. Stay?! He told her to stay?! What kind of helpless idiot did he think she was?! Lifting the wrench, she was about to start after Edward when something grabbed her shoulder, propelling her backwards once again. The mechanic landed against a body, strong arms grappling her. A panicked scream stuck in Winry's throat as she looked up, wide-eyed to see a man towering over her. He leered back as his meaty hand took hold of her wrist, and her stare shifted gears from shock to ill-intent.

 

Her heel stomped onto his foot, crushing something with a crack as his hand sprung open. Not wasting time, she jabbed the handle of the wrench backwards and struck flesh. He went sprawling away from her with a few staggered steps, glaring at her in fury as she spun around. Winry nearly froze again as he charged forward. What the hell was she thinking!? This guy was huge and very much pissed off. Ok, not at big as Major Armstrong, but enough to give her pause as he lashed out at her face. She lifted the wrench to block the open hand, keeping herself from being slapped while being knocked into the wall instead. Cringing from the blow, she ducked in time to avoid another swipe. She frantically backpedaled as he came after her, shouting, “Come back here!”

 

She glanced over her shoulder to see Ed looking at her frantically, fending off the two other guards, “Winry!”

 

The large man reached out to grab her, but this time she stood her ground. As soon as one finger touched her skin, she struck, slamming the wrench down on his neck and shoulder with a shout. The blow reverberated though his body, buckling as he started to collapse at her feet. Winry shot backwards with a yelp, avoiding being caught under him in the tumble. She raised the wrench again, readying another strike as the man groaned in pain and moved before going limp. Her breath slowed in relief, then looked up. Another man dressed in black stared at her in shock, “You, you-.”

 

He cut off his own words as he reached for the rifle slung over his should. The man quickly raised it to aim at her. “Edward!” Winry shouted, dropping the wrench and closing her eyes.

 

Feet pounded on stone behind her. The rifle clicked; the last thing she heard before the crack of power filled the air around her. The noise was deafening and she was caught in the middle of it, covering her ears and ducking down. Then suddenly, with a final swish of sound, the chaos disappeared. She opened her eyes again and slowly looked up. Both men were gone, a rock barrier standing in place in her vision. Her head turned upward even more to see Edward leaning over her, braced against the new wall. A lop-sided grin plastered across his face, one she wanted desperately in that moment to kiss away, “Are you alright?”

 

Her mouth dropped open, squeaking while staring wide-eyed up at him, “Yeah, I'm fine!”

 

Slowly, that grin disappeared upon hearing more voices in the distance. His head turned towards the noise as it increased with the addition of footsteps, “We have to get out of here.”

 

Pulling away from the wall, he yanked Winry back to her feet and into a run, barely giving her time to scoop up the wrench. It wasn't until they had turned a corner that she realized that they were going in the opposite direction of where she had pointed to earlier. “Ed! This is the wrong way!” she yelled at him, trying to break his grip on her wrist.

 

He wouldn't let go, even as they nearly collided while turning another corner, “We can't go that way, too many people that direction.”

 

“But you don't know which way is out!”

 

“Not trying to find a way out!”

 

“But-!”

 

“I can't fight all of them alone! I need Al, Armstrong, or even Colonel Bastard right about now! We're going to save him, and the Lieutenant, and then we're breaking out of here!” Edward yelled, stopping once they took a right at another intersection. Winry pressed herself against the wall, watching as his hands came together with blue-white sparks before touching the stone floor. Another rock barrier rose up, and she sighed, “How are we going to get out when you keep cutting off our exits?”

 

The young alchemist looked at her, ignoring the question until he suddenly reached for her hand, “I'll make us a path.”

 

His statement didn't shock the mechanic at all while letting herself be pulled along by him. That was just like Edward, ready to crash through walls to get something done. One of these days it was going to get him into another case of trouble, she could just tell. The crummy wrench bounced on her shoulder. Well, at least he gave her something to remember the night by. Winry fought down the sigh and tried to keep up with his fast pace without trampling on her already ruined skirts. Just what had she gotten herself into anyway by allowing him to take her on one simple date?

 

**********

 

The silence seemed to drag in the air for an eternity. They'd run out of words to yell at each other long ago. The only things that remained joined together were their hands, the gun between them, and their leaning heads. Roy didn't move from where his head on the back of Riza's, too lazy to do otherwise. He never thought it would take their captors this long to scrounge up an interrogator. Something was wrong, he could almost feel it. What were they waiting for? As the quiet moments seemed to take up minutes, the more anxious he became. “Riza?” he whispered, turning his head slightly.

 

She gave a startled gasp, “What?”

 

Roy blinked, lifting his head off of hers, “What were you doing?”

 

The blonde moaned, wincing to ease the tiredness in her eyes, “Dozing off . . .”

 

“This isn't the time for that.”

 

“With all that's happened tonight, can you blame me for being exhausted? I mean, they have been keeping us waiting a while.”

 

“Tell me something I don't know, Lieutenant,” he scowled, glancing around again, “I don't like this . . . Do try to stay alert? You never know-.”

 

Roy stopped as soon as he heard feet from the other side of the door. The sound was in the distance but getting closer; and it wasn't heavy boots he hear either. His voice stuck. This was it. He pulled on Riza's hands, concealing the gun, “Don't do anything you don't have to. Don't say anything they can use against us. Don't-.”

 

“I know the military's rules for interrogation, Roy. Basic officer's training, remember.”

 

“I know, just-.”

 

“No matter what they do to us, don't give up. I know . . .”

 

The sound of steps stopped in front of the door then the scraping of a key being turned in a lock. With a click, the door opened and the handle turned. Roy frowned as two men in black filed into the room, but that look was wiped from his face as soon as a third smaller figure stepped into the room. There was no mistaking the red hair, those green eyes, and pale skin, or how she sauntered to stand in front of him. The woman giggled while studying him, a noise that was at once both harsh and seductive. Or at least he found it seductive once. Now it only made the Colonel wince. He looked up at the woman in the long green gown and frowned, “Hello, Margie.”

 

“Oh Roy, how wonderful to see you again,” she breathed, smiling beautifully at him before sighing dramatically, “It's a shame though that it had to be under these circumstances.”

 

Riza let out an irritated groan, wishing her hands were free so that she could rub the soon to be throbbing headache away from her temples. She just had to be right, didn't she? She shook her head, “Marguerite Everard, Delmark Arms board of directors, and Colonel Mustang's jilted ex-girlfriend.”

 

The blonde bit down on her tongue to keep from hissing out an `I told you so' at him; so much for saving those words for a rainy day. Even if she didn't say a thing, Roy could feel her earlier theories ringing in his thoughts. Damnit, she was right after all and he was wrong. Margie was at the center of it all. He was never going to live this one down. And yet, the pieces still didn't fit in his head. Why? How? She slapped him after all after he broke it off. What woman would be possessed enough to go to such lengths? Especially with at least half the Central City Military forces looking for them now after the chaos at the Conservatory? He looked up to see Margie's jade-hued eyes harden into stones, pointed directly over his shoulder at Riza, “I don't believe we've been properly introduced yet.”

 

Roy inhaled a sharp breath, remembering why he broke up with the redhead in the first place. Yes, she could and would be crazy enough to do pursue him that much. He felt Riza stiffen, and he knew she was probably sitting up perfectly straight, defiant as ever, “First Lieutenant Riza Hawkeye.”

 

Margie's gaze shifted from her down towards the Colonel, going from ice cold to flaming pissed, “You never told me someone like her was under your command.”

 

A lame excuse formed in his head, about to come out when he was cut off, “Obviously he didn't tell you a lot of things.”

 

The glance he got from the redhead looked as if it would burn right through him. Roy laughed nervously, muttering through a half-hearted grin, “You're not helping, Lieutenant.”

 

Riza sighed, rattling her chains, “Respectfully, sir, you have lousy tastes in women.”

 

She then realized too late what it also said about her taste in men. He opened his mouth to yell at her when Margie suddenly laughed. Roy winced again even if the sound didn't ease his nervousness. Slowly, she wound down to a soft giggle, sliding up closer to the dark-haired man. “No wonder she was with you tonight. She knows you too well,” the redhead's hand came up to hold his cheek, “Almost like I do.”

 

Roy cringed as her fingers brushed a livid bruise by the side of his eye. She gasped, pulling her hand away as if she'd be burnt, “You poor thing. Who did this to you?”

 

He glared up at her, two accusatory words dancing on his tongue, ok, maybe five words, till she turned away from him to face the two men standing in the room. “Which one of your men did this? I told you that `he' especially wasn't supposed to harm at all, not one black hair on his head,” she hissed at them as Roy blinked, “Did I not make myself clear?”

 

They both looked at each other, mouths flapping like fish till the short of the pair spoke up, “Yes. We're very sorry. One of the new recruits got a little overzealous when one of the women provoked him. We get it under control, but-.”

 

“I asked who did this!? Who damaged him?!” she screeched, “I am paying to follow orders, not damage my property!”

 

Both men cringed then looked downcast, not daring to look up at the irate woman until one of them chose to answer, “Jenkins. He's . . . he's right outside, standing guard.”

 

Margie went silent then methodically lifted the skirt of her gown and bent over, standing up again with a small pistol in her hand. She hid the gun behind her back while walking back towards the door she originally came through. Roy's eyebrows rose as he watched her smile sweetly through the crack she left open in the doorway, “Hello, are you Jenkins?”

 

“Yes, ma'am. What can I-?”

 

He never got to finish the question as the shots rung through the room and the hallway. The body hit the ground with a thud as Roy's heart stuck in his throat. He wasn't alone as he felt Riza's hand clench his, whispering, “And you dated her? What were you thinking?!”

 

“Obviously back then she had some shreds of humanity left!” he hissed under his breath, “How was I to know she'd turn into this!?”

 

“Next you'll tell me that you did like her for her personality!”

 

Roy didn't get a chance to answer the blonde as Margie walked back into the room, placing the gun back into the holster on her ankle. She smiled at him, making the Colonel wish he could sink lower in the chair, before turning towards the two men with a sneer on her face, “I don't know why I bother to pay you so much if you can't keep your men more disciplined. Consider yourselves lucky that this assignment of mine is easier those cannons were, or was until you screwed it up. I only asked one thing of you both . . .”

 

“We're sorry, ma'am.”

 

“It won't happen again.”

 

She spluttered, hips cocked to the side as her arms crossed, “Of course it won't.”

 

Roy's eyebrows rose up. Cannons? Did she mean those alchemy enhanced cannons they were sent to find and destroy in the first place? What did she have to-? His thoughts stopped, half-formed when Riza spoke, “That's how this started, isn't it? You were trying to get a hold of those cannons yourself, for your company.”

 

Margie's full lips quirked into a smirk, “She's bright. No wonder you keep her under you, Roy.”

 

He frowned, “She's spirited though.”

 

“You always did have a weakness for spirit. It's why you loved me,” the redhead said as she moved around to look at the Lieutenant, “But she's not entirely correct.”

 

“Where am I wrong then?”

 

“Those cannons were being made by our competition, Olean Artillery, selling them through a criminal fencing group. They were strictly for the black market and for profit. You see, there's a whole world out there besides the military that want weapons, and if your goods can outdo the military stock then you're guaranteed sales to every disgruntled citizenry just waiting for a chance to rise up and every mercenary group looking to take pot shots. And those cannons could put a serious dent into anything the military could throw at them, even you darling,” she explained, smiling at Roy from behind his back.

 

Riza frowned, “So you set up the raid, to get the Military to do the dirty work for you.”

 

“Of course. We couldn't have our products being undermined, now could we? So, I personally took it upon myself as the company's `Foundation' director, and loyal citizen of the Amestris Military State, to leak what I knew of these deals to the proper authorities. I even went to Central Headquarters myself to find out when justice would be served. I just never expected to find my Mustang's signature on the forms in charge of the operation.”

 

So that was how her job stopped being about the cannons and became about him. The phone calls had started then too. Roy groaned, “The Quartermaster's office, of course an arms company representative would have access to it.”

 

`I told you so' rang loud and clear in Riza's head, “So then why did you plant the bomb? Why did buyer, Heinor, move early if he was on your payroll?”

 

Margie's eyes narrowed on the blonde woman, “And how do you know he was?”

 

“The bank accounts. The money to his group came from your `Foundation',” Roy added, “Said `Foundation' must be a front for all of Delmark Arms' double dealings.”

 

“You paid him, got him in contact with Olean's criminal fence to make the deal, and dropped it all in the military's lap. But, Heinor must have known about the bomb and moved early, forcing us to move early, and forcing you to come up with something else, but why? All you needed to do was keep us from getting to your stooge, the military would have done the rest . . .” Riza questioned before trailing off, her mind filling in the answer for her, “. . . Unless the whole point after finding out that the Colonel was in Central was to kill him?”

 

Margie's stare remained stuck on the Lieutenant, “I knew there was a reason I didn't like seeing you hanging around my Roy. You're much too smart for your own good, but you obviously haven't put it all together till now.”

 

Riza sighed, shaking her head, “I get it now. You planted the snipers on the warehouse roof and on the streets the next day, but they were lousy aim or you order them just to kill everyone. That's how I thought they were going after . . .”

 

“That little brat? You thought I was after that little runt of a useless, half-pint pipsqueak? . . . I take it back. You're dumber than I thought.”

 

“He isn't exactly useless . . . even if he is a shrimp,” Roy muttered, “That means you must have followed us to the Lieutenant's home. You knew we were there all along. If you wanted to kill me, why didn't you when you had the chance? Why let me live?”

 

“Because I changed my mind. Isn't a woman allowed to change her mind?” she walked around the pair again, glaring at Roy once she stood before him, “Yes, I wanted to kill you. No man has ever walked out on me before, or made a public spectacle of it.”

 

“You're the one that broke all the windows before I tried to throw you out. You made the spectacle of it,” he growled. The strike across his face came hard and swift, rattling in head. He groaned at the pain, the world going black for a second until he could focus on Margie's narrowed eyes again. A half-second later, she was looking very remorsefully down at him, cradling the cheek she just punched while speaking tenderly, “I'm sorry, Roy, but you shouldn't make me do that to you.”

 

His head reared away from her touch, but she continued anyway, “You were the one that wanted it to be over. I never did. I just, just couldn't let you go . . . I thought I wanted you dead, but really, when I found you standing outside that little rat hole of an apartment building, I knew I wanted you back, just the way it was.”

 

“I told you it was over, Margie. This isn't a way to win me back.”

 

“I know. I know . . .” she trailed off, looking as if she was going to cry, “But, you're the one that said you found someone else, that you loved her over me. I just had to know who my new competition was. Maybe once I got rid of her, then maybe you'd love me again?”

 

“I never-,”

 

“Yes, you did! You said exactly that you never told me you loved me, which is a lie! You said you only ever said those words to one woman, which has to be a lie!” Margie screamed in his face, clutching him by the shirt collar, “So which is it?! I want to know the truth!”

 

Roy paled as he felt Riza's hands shiver in his. Did the redhead not know? Why else would she ask for the blonde Lieutenant's presence at this reunion? How could she not know that they were lovers? Everyone else in Headquarters at least suspected it of them. When he didn't answer, Margie's hands went from clenching his shirt to encircling his neck, slowly choking the air from him, “Tell me what I want to hear, lover . . .”

 

He fought under her strong gasp, trying to breathe until he could barely get air to his lungs to speak, “There is someone else . . . you stupid-.”

 

Her hands let up only to slap him across the face, the force nearly knocking him over in the chair. Roy panted, glaring at the crazy redhead in spite of her glare back at him. And yet, that anger flipped off as if someone hit a switch on her, turning back to sympathy as she moved to hug him, “Now look what you made me do.”

 

He grunted as she sat sideways on his lap, “Who is she then, Roy, your current flame?”

 

“I would have to be insane to tell you. I can only imagine what you'd do to her,” he growled, dark eyes boring into her. Margie giggled at him, her voice not glass-scraping for once. She only hugged him tighter while petting his black hair no matter how much he tried to get away from her touch, “You will tell me because if you don't your friends will suffer for your silence worse than that bimbo you claim to love. And I think I'll start with your little, blonde underling. She's been so troublesome to me already.”

 

Riza's blood ran cold, “The investigator . . . You hired him and killed him because of me.”

 

“This is why you're so troublesome. You're so perceptive, but still blind at the same time.”

 

Slowly, Margie unpeeled herself from Roy's lap, walking back towards the blonde bound woman. She grabbed the Lieutenant by the chin as she struggled, nails digging into her skin, “At first I thought it was you he was referring to, with the flowers, and how he was staying with you and the kid. I wanted to find out more. I wanted to know all about you, Riza. I wanted to find out about all the women close to my man, but you of them all seemed to be the closest, so I just had to find out. I hired that useless dick to follow you for me so I could keep my eye on my precious Roy, but he just had to get caught then spill his guts, so I killed him myself before he could talk. He didn't find out anything useful anyway, just stuff I already knew.”

 

The redhead's finger's tightened, bruising her face as she cringed in pain, “After that, I heard about his little plan around Central Headquarters. Your department is so helpful like that, especially the fat one, Heymans. After a visit to the bank, I found the ballet tickets Roy bought in his account ledger. It was simple from there to find out what he was doing, baiting a trap for me. I knew it was coming but I had to go, especially after I found out that those tickets were for a Mr. and Mrs. Roy Mustang. I knew he'd bring her along then.”

 

She let go of Riza, but not before forcibly throwing her head aside. Panting, she let her brown eyes closed. That stupid pair of tickets of his and his ideas of romance were getting them caught. She must have figured it out right? But then why all the dramatic questioning of Roy? It didn't make sense. But, as she looked back up at Margie, she could see the answer coming, “But, I was wrong. Now I know the one couldn't possibly be your date for the night. Even you're not that dumb to bring the woman you love into danger. I knew it couldn't be your dear Lieutenant either.”

 

Her gaze went back to the blonde, “She's too anal and too much of a perfectionist for you, and much too much of a mother hen. I know you well. You like messy women like me. We make life so much more exciting than snooty desk twerps. You could love her like you do all your other underlings, but couldn't really love her love her, could you? Then I thought about that other blonde, the one I heard you bought train tickets for.”

 

Both of them cringed as they knew whom she alluded to; none other than Winry. If Margie noticed, she didn't say anything except to continue on her topic, “But when I watched her hug and kiss that boy on the platform, I knew she wasn't the one either. I couldn't put my finger on who was the one. Watching you all those days before the ballet performance, I knew the only way I would ever find out is to ask you myself. And so, here we are.”

 

She bent over Roy, tenderly nudging his face to look at her but he kept turning away. Eventually, Margie pulled his hair into fists, forcing his eyes to meet hers, “Who is she, dearest? Maybe I won't hurt her after all. Maybe I just want to see if she's as worthy of you as I am? Tell me, please?”

 

“My mother,” the Colonel said with all the seriousness he could muster. The redhead's green eyes were livid in fury as she shook. Instead of being afraid at the anger radiating from her, Roy burst out in laughter only to be silenced in a punch to the stomach. He nearly doubled over in the chair, wheezing for breath. “I asked a simple question, Roy,” Margie ground through her teeth, “So answer it.”

 

“It certainly isn't you,” he snickered.

 

She screeched; the noise enough to bring pain to his poor ears until she cuffed him on the side of the face in a slap that left his head ringing. The chair nearly toppled over as he swayed, falling back against it when she slapped him in the opposite direction. He could feel Riza tense as he nearly crashed his chair into hers, whispering quickly, “Roy?”

 

He groaned, his brow knitted together in the pain that throbbed through his head. Of bad mistakes he ever made with women, dating Margie before she lost her mind was beginning to seem like the biggest mistake he ever made. He shook his head, ignoring the redhead looming over him while mumbling under his breath to no one but himself, “Worthy of me, my ass. You aren't worthy enough to even be a stone kicked out of her way.”

 

She couldn't help it. The sentiment was so sappy and made her so proud of him in that moment that Riza burst out in silly laughter, almost doubling over with a fit of giggles. Margie screamed as both of them started laughing, snickers even coming from the two armed guards in the room, “Shut up! All of you shut up!”

 

The laughter didn't stop until she backhanded Roy, making him crash backwards into Riza again. She bit her lip to keep from saying anything. If Margie knew, which she obviously did not, what would she do to them, to her? And, as she knew too well, there was an underground labyrinth full of guards to help their captor in whatever she wanted. She could only imagine what the redhead might do. The Lieutenant's blood ran cold. She sat still and silent even as she heard Roy continue to groan in pain, wanting nothing more than to comfort him even if she couldn't. Slowly, he sat up again, trying to catch his breath, “I won't tell you a thing.”

 

The redhead looked at him, torn, “Why do you have to do this? Why do you treat me like this when I love you?”

 

He glared at her, angry fire dancing through his mind, “This? This is love to you?” muttering again, he shook his head, “You're crazier than I thought.”

 

“No. This is tough love as my father called it. This is punishment for how badly you've treated me when all I've wanted was your affection again. I want to love you but you keep being so bad to me. You've been a very bad boy, Roy Mustang,” Margie said as she lifted her long skirts, straddling his lap, “But, I'm willing to forgive you . . . I do still love you . . . Please just listen to me.”

 

Her hands caressed his face even as he twisted to get away from her, “Get off of me, you crazy bit-!”

 

The curse was cut off with a sharp tug on Roy's hair, making him cringe, “I am not crazy!”

 

Abruptly, Margie's face seemed to dissolve from anger into sorrow as if another switch had been flipped. Tears streamed down her face while letting go of his scalp. With a wail, she threw her arms around the Colonel, sobbing into his shoulder. He couldn't keep his eyes from rolling upwards. If she wasn't crazy then his whole definition of the word was skewed out of proportion. The redhead sniffled, still clinging to his jacket while mumbling her words between the watery tears, “Why can't you understand how I feel? Don't you know what it's like to love someone and lose them before you realize it?”

 

He felt Riza's hand tighten its grip on his, “Roy, don't-.”

 

Her words were already too late as he shook in fury. If he could have murdered her in cold anger, he would have. Margie, for all her protestations on knowing him, never knew a damned thing about him. She had no idea what he saw, and could only imagine what he had done. Mustang's dark eyes hardened when she looked up at him again, sparking with fire even as his voice went as cold as ice, “Do you know what love is, Marguerite Everard, really?”

 

“Yes, of course. It's us, what we had, isn't it?”

 

She tried to touch his face only to have him pull away again, “Now who is lying? And to yourself as well.”

 

Her green eyes narrowed, “Just what are you trying to say, Roy?”

 

“That you wouldn't know what real love is, ever. It was never us. Love is looking down the barrel of an enemy's rifle, trying to protect the person you love and know you're going to die trying, that you both will die in each other arms. That's what love is, Margie, protecting those who are most important to you, not hurting them like some possessive sadist.”

 

For a moment, there was a flash across the redhead's face, as if a realization had struck her. Then, ever so slowly, the look went away, replaced with one of jealousy, “So, there is someone else after all.”

 

Roy glared back, wishing for not the first time that he didn't need his glove to burn someone alive, “I will never tell you.”

 

Margie's fingers dug into the shoulders of his black jacket, trembling with fury, “Then you leave me no choice. It doesn't matter anyway. I will make you love me again, and I don't care if it is real, fake, or a lie. You're mine, Roy Mustang, and no one else's.”

 

She looked over at the two men, staring at them, “The bitch is yours, payment for services rendered. Do what you will, just get her from my sight, and get out of here, now . . . I want some time alone with what's mine.”

 

Roy paled as the two men took a step forward, leering at the blonde bound to the chair behind his. This couldn't happen. He couldn't let this happen. “Riza?” he whispered her name.

 

“I know, sir,” the Lieutenant breathed in reply. They had waited long enough. His hands let go of hers as he roared, jerking forward to butt into the redhead. Their heads collided and Margie went sprawling from his lap to fall onto the floor. The gunshot he expected never came as he frantically twisted in the chair, reaching for her hands again only to find them empty, “What are you-? Where's”

 

“Everything's fine, I-,” Riza never got a chance to finish her words as one of the men yanked her chair away from his and turned her around. A rifle clicked, the barrel pressed into Roy's shoulder as he grunted, “Don't think of trying anything either, soldier girl, or your hero loses an arm.”

 

The Lieutenant's shoulders slumped in defeat. At least she still had the gun safely tucked down the back of her dress. As Margie surged to her feet and slapped her Colonel across the face once more, her brown eyes narrowed on the redhead. That woman would pay for what she did to them, most likely with her life if she could help it. Once she took care of these two goons, nothing would stop her killing the woman. Looking back up to meet Riza's stare, Margie's shout rung in the small room, “Get her out of here now! And kill her when you're done!”

 

Her chair was pulled backwards through another open doorway, wood scraping on the stone floor. Roy turned to watch her being taken away, pain laced in his dark eyes as he shouted, “Wait! Don't-!”

 

The door slammed closed before she even had a chance to breath. Her heart sank and her head fell, “I'll be fine . . .”

 

“Are you so sure of that? I've always wanted to try military cunt.”

 

Riza's head slowly rose up to stare at the man who had said that as he sneered at her, fingering his rifle. His companion chimed in as well, pulled her chair into the center of the room, “I bet she polishes guns real well.”

 

She smirked, a fist tightening on the pistol's handle. Out of all the choices she had to make in the next few minutes, perhaps the hardest one that immediately came to the mind of the Lieutenant was which one of them she wanted to kill first.

 

**********

 

Roy's hands shook in fury, staring up at Margie as she smirked down on him, “You are delusional, psychotic, absolutely crazy, sadistic . . . “

 

“And your point is?”

 

“This won't end well for you. The military is probably already looking for this complex. If they harm one hair on her head-.”

 

“Do I look like I care what happens to your blonde bitch? What will you do for her now anyway? No fire with the snap of your fingers, no one here to back you up. You're not a hero. You're just as weak as every other man . . . but I still love you, weak and all,” Margie professed, still, lifting her green skirts again to straddle his lap and the chair. Roy shuddered, blocking out her words from his mind. He wasn't weak, damnit! And he wasn't useless either! He just needed a way out . . . When she hugged him, he turned away to glare at the wall instead. He ignored how she snuggled against his neck, suppressing a cringe of revulsion as she purred, “All you have is me now. You're mine.”

 

“Let me go, Margie, and maybe we can sort this out before anyone gets hurt. You obviously need help, and-.”

 

Mustang's words stopped as her lips crushed into his. He fought against her kiss, trying to pull away while keeping his mouth tightly shut against the invasion. After a few moments, he ripped away from her then spat in her face, “What do you think you're doing?!”

 

“But I want to love you . . .”

 

“I told you, this isn't-.”

 

She kissed him again with bruising force as he continued to try to rebel against her. No matter how much he pushed, the redhead clung to him like a creeping vine unable to be dislodged. When she finally let up, Roy choked for air, nearly snarling as he tried to shake her off while her lips nibbled on his cheek then down his neck. And yet, as she took her time in kissing his skin, he stopped fighting and glanced over his shoulder. This was . . . annoying, to say the least. He didn't have time for this as he twisted to look at the door Riza had been dragged through. What was she thinking anyway? Where was that gun she had? Ignoring the redhead completely with a roll of his eyes, Mustang focused on the door entirely. She was ok. She needed to be ok. If she wasn't ok, he'd burn the entire place down around them.

 

And yet his thoughts stopped with a harsh bite to his neck as he yelped, “Damnit! Would you-?!”

 

Her hands yanked his hair, turning him back to look at her, “You're ignoring me . . .”

 

“Of course I'm ignoring you! I don't care what you do to me, just let her go!”

 

Her green eyes narrowed dangerously. A second later, her hands fisted into tight balls and beat down on his face and neck as she screamed, “I knew it! It is her! It always was her! You fucking bastard! I love you! I won't let her have you!”

 

Roy tried to avoid her blows but couldn't with nowhere else to go, “Stop it, Margie!”

 

The strength in her punches let out as soon as he yelled at her, replaced with a sob as she cried into the shoulder she had just finished bruising. He tried to shake off the pain, but couldn't, not any longer as he cringed horribly. Everywhere on his face and head seemed to hurt. In spite of all the pain he was in, Roy still slowly raised his head enough to look at the door. Riza . . . she'd be ok, wouldn't she? All he had to do was just hold out, maybe persuade the crazy woman to let her go, but in exchange for what? That was a thought he wished hadn't crossed his mind. He didn't notice the redhead hands as she peeled the ruined tuxedo jacket from his shoulders. The only thing he did care about was the most important person to him held captive behind that door. Margie bit his neck again, but he didn't even flinch or turn to look back. “Stop it, Margie,” he growled in annoyance when she didn't let up, pulling his shirt collar open, “This isn't amusing anymore.”

 

The redhead had been gently tugged on the buttons lining down his shirt when he spoke. Once she saw where his attention really was though, her hands fisted the material and ripped it apart. Panic rose up in Roy's throat whether he tried to fight it or not. He swallowed it down a moment later, glaring at her before turning back towards the door. No matter what she did to him, it didn't matter as long as Riza wasn't harmed. He suppressed another shudder of revulsion when she spoke, “You always did like it rough.”

 

She pulled his undershirt to shreds too, and Roy reacted by trying to throw her off the chair with a hard buck of his hips. Yet, Margie held on, a sinister giggle on the edge of her voice, “That's more like you, Roy. I love it when you fight me.”

 

A smirk crossed his lips, “Release me then, and I'll fight you all you want.”

 

The redhead smirked back, “I know exactly what you'd do too. It won't work on me. Go to hell.”

 

“You first,” Roy snapped back. Somewhere deep down in Margie's twisted mind liked his retort as she giggled again before stopping to kiss his neck and chest. He cringed again, ignoring her entirely as he couldn't let Riza and the door out of his sight. His heart pounded in his ears as he strained to hear anything besides the wet sucking sound from the redhead's lips. He couldn't let anything happen to her, but something was. He just knew it, and that knowledge made his stomach churn. Roy shook his head violently. She was fine. She was strong. Riza was his girl. She could handle anything thrown at her. He wouldn't panic, and he would save her just as soon as-.

 

A female scream sounded through the doorway, and Roy's heart jumped into his throat.

 

No, this wasn't happening. It couldn't be her. Riza never screamed.

 

The sound of a gunshot made him convulse as if they had hit him. This wasn't happening. More shots went deaf in his ears as he shook violently. The silence that followed from the other room was the loudest thing he'd ever head. This couldn't be happening. She, she couldn't be . . . Margie tried to kiss him again yet this time he didn't fight her off. She moaned into the kiss and he shuddered. No, he had to be wrong. She wasn't dead. The redhead giggled as she pulled away, “I guess my men didn't think she was that much fun.”

 

“I hate you . . .” Roy whispered under his breath, his body trembling in a conflict of sorrow and fury. Margie ignored him, moaning in his ear instead as her hips ground into his. He sat there unmoved no matter how hard she tried to arouse him, as cold and numb as a block of ice. How? How could this have happened? But as he felt her hands on his chest, he knew exactly how it happened. If Riza was dead then he would killed the one to blame. Suddenly, he snapped, roaring in rage as his teeth sank into the neck of the woman on top of him. Blood flooded his mouth as she scream. No matter how much Margie tried to rip his hair out, Roy didn't let go. She would die too if it was the last thing he did, and he would be glad in it. Yet, when her fist punched into the side of his face, his world flashed black and his jaw went slack.

 

When his senses came back again, the only thing he felt was another slap in the face as the redhead lashed out at him again while standing over him, “Damn it, Roy! You almost could have killed me! A little too rough I think, darling!”

 

He snarled at her, face scrunched together in fury, “I hate you! I will kill you for what you've done with my last breath!”

 

She punched him in the stomach, making him double over and nearly retch from the force. When Margie pulled him up by the hair, he didn't resist except to stare at her in anger, “Come near me again and I will kill you.”

 

“Hate me, love me, you're still mine. Your bitch is dead, and you were too fucking weak to do anything about it. The Great Flame Alchemist really is useless . . . You have nothing left but me now, so accept it,” Margie said harshly before shoving his face away. He growled dangerously, not letting her words sink in. Riza wasn't dead. He wasn't useless. He wasn't weak. He just wasn't. Slowly, his head fell again. She wasn't gone. She . . . the silence from the other room continued. Maybe . . . she was dead.

 

Margie sat on his lap again, licking the blood away from his lips as he shuddered, “Let me love you, Roy. I'll help you forget about her.”

 

His arms jerked in rage then stopped. He didn't want to forget about Riza, couldn't forget about her. After everything they had gone through, even after her death, he still loved her. His dark eyes squinted shut. This wasn't happening. Margie's hand and lips moved over him, but he had stopped noticing. Maybe she was right. At that moment, he didn't want to remember the scent of her blonde hair or the way she called him sir when she was annoyed with him. He didn't want to remember her hands on him, touching him. He didn't want to remember how she whispered his name. He didn't want to remember any of it any more how that she was gone, but he still could stop the images of memories flashing before his eyes.

 

Roy stared blankly as Margie, his mind not registering that her hand was done his pants and pulling his boxers open. Her hips moved into his, but he didn't so much as flinch in reaction. Undeterred, her teeth played with an earlobe, nibbling on the piece of skin before whispering into his ear, “That's more like it, Roy. Let me love you like I've loved all the men in my life.”

 

He shuddered, but didn't turn away as she continued, “My father taught me about love, that you use your body to express how you love someone. He showed me when I was still little how much he loved his baby girl, but when I got older, he stopped loved me . . . so I killed him. No one seemed to mind that he no longer was around to love me, not even my mother, but I missed him. No one else loved me that way, except for you. You really loved me as much as I loved you. And I still love you . . .”

 

A green pallor spread across Roy's face between the myriad of cuts and bruises, sick to his stomach. Her hand rubbed his crotch and he felt even more like throwing up. And yet, it didn't matter did it? The only thing that mattered was Riza and she-. His eyes closed, trying to forget everything, as if he never existed. But when he opened them again, all he saw was the blood seeping down the redhead's neck from the bite he gave her. Everything that happened was all too real as his eyes fell to the ground, a soulless void of darkness swallowing him up. She was gone . . .

 

Her hips moved and she moaned in his ear, “Tell me you love me, Roy?”

 

He didn't hear Margie at all. The only thing his mind heard was Riza's voice, asking the same thing of him not too long ago. A tear spilled over and down Roy's cheek as he whispered to the air, “. . . I love you.”

 

**********

 

To Be Continued in Of Ballet and Bullets, Part 16, Fatal Attraction.