Had she married anyone else, Riza might have been accused of insanity - might have been taken for a liar, never again to be believed in her own home. But Roland knows instantly that she is telling the truth. It's a relief to hear that this is all she had been hiding from him; after all, their secrets matched pound-for-pound thus far. If she were from another world, that meant they had much more in common than they thought.
He meets her eyes carefully, expression still soft. Did she expect him to be upset rather than comforted? Would hearing her out without so much as a furrowed brow lead her to think him suspicious? His thoughts in conflict, the only thing he can think to say is: "Indeed, I haven't heard of it. How did you get here, then..?"
Roland must think she's lost her mind. He must be trying to gently gather further information from her without upsetting her--it's like him, gently prying without being unkind or cruel. And who would blame him for such thoughts, that his wife was simply a bit off her rocker, a bit out of sorts? It still sounds as ridiculous out loud as it does in her head. Even Riza thought she'd been losing her grip with reality when she'd first come to the conclusion herself.
She shifts, her free hand running over her face and fingertips coming to rest on a thick pink scar that crosses from behind her ear to her clavicle. "I had been working on a covert operation with General Mustang and Major Miles. I had been keeping watch, when a hostile local terrorist cell had identified my location. I don't have a clear memory of what happened after, just of initial gunfire. The next thing I can remember clearly was waking up here."
A pause, before she exhales shakily. "You must think I'm crazy." His reaction is little consolation for her already frazzled nerves, though she can't say she blames him. "I thought I must be crazy, when I first got here."
Roland would laugh if the situation weren't so serious. All this time, the person who came the closest to understanding him was in his own home all along - as it should be, he supposed. He keeps a straight face, calmly analyzing the details. He sees her touch a finger to her scar and then looks away, suspecting he has seen something he shouldn't have - all along, his wife had some dark military history that wore on her, and had quietly endured it to keep herself from being found out. It was likely that Riza, too, knew the pain of death, then, and that fact surely wounded her as it did him, in spite of their foggy memories. None of this made Roland happy, but he could wholly understand it.
"I don't, actually," he assures, and it's the truth. "What did you do, next, then? I never would have imagined you were out of place, here." When Roland found himself in the same situation, people pegged him for an outsider almost immediately.
"Blend in, of course." It's said as though this were the only available option, because for Riza it had been--if only self imposed.
"I have worked undercover before. This was no different, at first." Riza runs her hand through her short hair, still sweat-slick from the nightmare that triggered this whole conversation. With a quiet exhale, she closes her eyes. "After I got my bearings, I went to enlist. I'm sure you've guessed by now that I've a military background."
Pausing, she recalls the uncomfortable conversation in the recruitment office. The stranger crowding into her space, pressing her into a corner until he was in a position to whisper unheard by the others in the room: I know you don't belong here. The barest shudder runs down her spine. "I would not have met you, had I not been pulled aside in the recruitment office. He agreed to keep quiet, if I cooperated. I did not expect...this."
Implied is that she'd been instructed to marry Roland. And while this had been true when they'd first met, things slowly began to change. She found herself trusting him. Relief when he returned at night. Feeling safe enough to tell him the truth. She might even say she loved him.
The nervous laugh is indicative of her reaching a breaking point, pressing her face into her hands. The slightest hint of hysteria creeps into her tone. "I can't believe you don't think I've lost my mind. You not just humoring me, are you?"
Roland's expression falls before he can stop himself, disturbed to learn the whole truth of his first meeting with his wife. So someone else was pulling the strings behind his back, heeding his word that he "must succeed" far too strongly - he'd never meant for anyone to become a victim of his careful planning. Or, perhaps, they were both unwitting pawns in a higher power's game. That remained to be seen, but it was not the focus of their conversation, now. "I'm sorry," he says automatically. He can't help but feel responsible for the situation Riza has found herself in, knowing that such an order could break the spirit of even the most hardened military veteran.
"I'm not humouring you," he adds quickly, not allowing her time to argue with his apology. "I know for a fact that you're telling the truth. But that's not important, yet." It's quite the secret to casually admit, but to elaborate would take them too far away from his point - for now, Roland gently squeezes her hand in his. "I want to make this right, Riza. Whatever that entails." He is surprised when his own words sting him - but he is prepared to let her go, if that is what she wanted. He could help her with the fallout.
She might have dismissed the apology, told him that she had allowed herself in such a situation and that it wasn't his fault whatsoever. But he doesn't give her the opportunity, and Riza imagines this was intentional as he presses on.
What throws her more than the apology is his offer, and immediately her shoulders sink. It presents a reality that she hadn't considered, that perhaps Roland didn't care to continue this charade. That he could have been just as coerced into this marriage as she had been. That he didn't care for her, not as a wife--and the thought is surprisingly painful.
"No. I don't--" this is a realm of human emotion that Riza is just plain unfamiliar with. Her parents were no model, and she was single at home. Naturally reserved, articulating such emotion is hard for her. "That isn't what I meant. It's part of the circumstance, but I..."
She peers up at him through through her fringe of hair, and there is a tinge of pink on her cheeks. "I am happy with you."
Roland releases a breath he hadn't realized he was holding, and he laughs, low and quiet. "I'm glad." He catches himself from continuing, from agreeing that it would make him very happy were she to stay, but realizes her answer may change once she heard his side of the story. His expression hardens, and he looks down at her - adorable as she was, blushing at her own husband - and knows that she is a much better person than him, to have told the truth first.
"Before you say that, though, there's something you should hear." It was one thing to lie under duress, but Roland had kept a grave secret from her - something that affected more than his own personal life. He breaks eye contact, as he was wont to do when he was nervous, one of very few tells that betrayed his stoic personality. "I'm not from this world, either, in a manner of speaking..."
She's learned his nervous tics, the miniscule tells that identify when something isn't quite right--and before he even speaks, the shifting of his gaze says more than he might realize. She thinks to herself that he would probably be bad at poker.
"But..." Riza tilts her head, confusion writ in her face. "You have a life here. Understand the technology." A pause, uncertain, "you have people who know you. Who have known you."
"Even being able to blend in well, I could never fabricate those relationships. But at our wedding..." she remembers the crowd of happy faces, making a guest list and having no names to add herself. But there isn't any anger on her face--just confusion. "I don't understand."
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He meets her eyes carefully, expression still soft. Did she expect him to be upset rather than comforted? Would hearing her out without so much as a furrowed brow lead her to think him suspicious? His thoughts in conflict, the only thing he can think to say is: "Indeed, I haven't heard of it. How did you get here, then..?"
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She shifts, her free hand running over her face and fingertips coming to rest on a thick pink scar that crosses from behind her ear to her clavicle. "I had been working on a covert operation with General Mustang and Major Miles. I had been keeping watch, when a hostile local terrorist cell had identified my location. I don't have a clear memory of what happened after, just of initial gunfire. The next thing I can remember clearly was waking up here."
A pause, before she exhales shakily. "You must think I'm crazy." His reaction is little consolation for her already frazzled nerves, though she can't say she blames him. "I thought I must be crazy, when I first got here."
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"I don't, actually," he assures, and it's the truth. "What did you do, next, then? I never would have imagined you were out of place, here." When Roland found himself in the same situation, people pegged him for an outsider almost immediately.
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"I have worked undercover before. This was no different, at first." Riza runs her hand through her short hair, still sweat-slick from the nightmare that triggered this whole conversation. With a quiet exhale, she closes her eyes. "After I got my bearings, I went to enlist. I'm sure you've guessed by now that I've a military background."
Pausing, she recalls the uncomfortable conversation in the recruitment office. The stranger crowding into her space, pressing her into a corner until he was in a position to whisper unheard by the others in the room: I know you don't belong here. The barest shudder runs down her spine. "I would not have met you, had I not been pulled aside in the recruitment office. He agreed to keep quiet, if I cooperated. I did not expect...this."
Implied is that she'd been instructed to marry Roland. And while this had been true when they'd first met, things slowly began to change. She found herself trusting him. Relief when he returned at night. Feeling safe enough to tell him the truth. She might even say she loved him.
The nervous laugh is indicative of her reaching a breaking point, pressing her face into her hands. The slightest hint of hysteria creeps into her tone. "I can't believe you don't think I've lost my mind. You not just humoring me, are you?"
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"I'm not humouring you," he adds quickly, not allowing her time to argue with his apology. "I know for a fact that you're telling the truth. But that's not important, yet." It's quite the secret to casually admit, but to elaborate would take them too far away from his point - for now, Roland gently squeezes her hand in his. "I want to make this right, Riza. Whatever that entails." He is surprised when his own words sting him - but he is prepared to let her go, if that is what she wanted. He could help her with the fallout.
no subject
What throws her more than the apology is his offer, and immediately her shoulders sink. It presents a reality that she hadn't considered, that perhaps Roland didn't care to continue this charade. That he could have been just as coerced into this marriage as she had been. That he didn't care for her, not as a wife--and the thought is surprisingly painful.
"No. I don't--" this is a realm of human emotion that Riza is just plain unfamiliar with. Her parents were no model, and she was single at home. Naturally reserved, articulating such emotion is hard for her. "That isn't what I meant. It's part of the circumstance, but I..."
She peers up at him through through her fringe of hair, and there is a tinge of pink on her cheeks. "I am happy with you."
no subject
"Before you say that, though, there's something you should hear." It was one thing to lie under duress, but Roland had kept a grave secret from her - something that affected more than his own personal life. He breaks eye contact, as he was wont to do when he was nervous, one of very few tells that betrayed his stoic personality. "I'm not from this world, either, in a manner of speaking..."
no subject
"But..." Riza tilts her head, confusion writ in her face. "You have a life here. Understand the technology." A pause, uncertain, "you have people who know you. Who have known you."
"Even being able to blend in well, I could never fabricate those relationships. But at our wedding..." she remembers the crowd of happy faces, making a guest list and having no names to add herself. But there isn't any anger on her face--just confusion. "I don't understand."