#roy!

It wasn't often that he went to her.

Most of the time, Annette would show up at his door at a late hour, sometimes with a frown and sometimes with tears staining her cheeks. He would open the door, and he would take her into his arms and hold her. Sometimes she would talk to him; others, she would simply cry into his arms until she fell asleep. Regardless, Felix prided himself with the fact that she chose him to turn to.

And yet he found himself hesitating as he went to knock on her door. What would he say, when he was always frowning but never cried? He didn't know how to ask for what he needed; it wasn't until she appeared that he had even begun to process his emotions, forget relearn how to let himself cry.

He took a deep breath. Raised his hand, rapped his knuckles gently against the door in the same pattern she always used. He didn't know what he was going to say, but he figured it was best to simply... go for it.

She opened the door, and something in his chest eased just by seeing her there. Her eyes were bright, suggesting that she had been up regardless; good. He didn't want to be the thing depriving her of sleep.

"Oh, Felix!" she said, and the pleased lilt in her tone eased his anxieties all the more. "Do you need something?"

"I, ah," he said, fumbling the words as he tried to come up with them, "I just need some healing."

It wasn't a lie, he supposed, though he still felt himself flush bright red at the excuse. There was no physical ailment that she could soothe, but being with her was all he needed; he could perhaps lie, say that an old wound was acting up, or perhaps he had strained a muscle. It was believable enough, given the conditions of this war.

Annette ushered him into her room, closing the door behind him and gesturing for him to sit in the seat. She didn't say anything, simply standing behind him and putting her hands on his shoulders, murmuring the incantation for Heal as she began to massage him there. Somehow, Felix got the feeling that she knew what he meant, even without him saying it.

She worked in silence for a while, focusing on gently working out the knots that Felix hadn't even realized were there. He relaxed into her touch, closing his eyes and letting himself bask in both her warmth and the complex emotions that he was feeling. Her presence was untangling them, somehow; gods, he loved her.

"You're always welcome here," she whispered eventually, voice soft, gentle. "You don't need an excuse."

Felix hummed in response. There was something clogging his throat, he felt; he didn't trust himself to speak. Annette was working lower, now, massaging his back. She began to hum quietly–the beginnings of a tune, he suspected–and Felix felt a tear slip down his cheek.

He couldn't remember the last time he had cried, but he knew the last time he had cried in front of someone was when he had wailed into his mother's arms at the news of Glenn. This was better than that.

Annette stopped massaging him, and he opened his eyes as he felt her hand gently brush away some of his tears. She smiled kindly at him, the depths of her adoration so evident in her eyes.

"I'm here for you, Felix," she said. It was just as soft, just as kind, but a little more solid than her words had been before. She reached around and hugged him, and he hugged her back, perhaps tighter than either of them had expected. Annette simply tightened her grip, pressed a kiss to the top of Felix's head, and let him weep into her shoulder.