Ch. 1 Sleepless Nights and Soothing Tempers
Roy Mustang ran his hands through his hair again. None of this was adding up. He had been looking over all the books and documents Sheska told him Hughes had requested in the few days before his death. He was missing something. He didn't know how long he had been looking at the piles and piles of information, but it was wearing him down.
He absently looked around the room. He had taken one of the study rooms in the library and made a make shift office and living space. There was the desk he was currently hunched over, a couch and two stuffed chairs placed around a coffee table also covered in papers, and up against the far wall in between the door and the closet there was a bookshelf, a coat stand, and an old wooden chair. His wandering gaze settled on the bed to his right, completely untouched since it had been moved in. Hawkeye had insisted on it. He hadn't argued. It's not like he had had time to find an apartment to go back to or that he was planning on going anywhere anyway. But he wasn't inclined to use it quite yet. He couldn't bring himself to close his eyes, to see…
A gentle knocking on the door brought him out of his thoughts. He didn't want to be bothered. "What?! Who is it?!" he barked. The lack of sleep was making him more irritable than usual.
"Lt. Ross, sir. Is this a bad time?" she asked through the door. Lieutenant Maria Ross and Sergeant Denny Brosh had been sent to "help" him during the night while his team got some shuteye. He was convinced Hawkeye had them there to guard him while she was gone, but no such thing had been said.
He didn't mind Ross, maybe would have even added her to his team if Major Armstrong were not so protective of her. The Major had given him the two on-lone, letting him know that Ross was one of his best lieutenants. Brosh on the other hand was a mindless fool and Mustang couldn't stand him. But Armstrong had only praise for the bumbling sergeant. Mustang stood up and replied, "No, come in, Lieutenant." He could use a break anyway.
Ross opened the door and walked in carrying a tray. "You've been working all evening, sir. I thought you might like some tea," she said with a smile, closing the door behind her.
"Thank you." He made his way to the couch. "What time is it?" he croaked. His throat suddenly felt very dry. He couldn't remember the last time he ate or drank.
"About 9 pm, sir. And it's Tuesday."
"Tuesday?" He asked alarmed. The days were starting to blend together. He had started working through Hughes' files Friday night after the funeral. "But it was just Monday?"
Ross smiled. "That's generally how it works, sir."
He looked at the tray as she placed it on the coffee table, moving some of the papers to make room. There was a single cup, a teapot - steam rising from the spout - and a plate with some pastries. As he sat down he asked, "Would you like to join me?"
"Sir, I-" she choked out.
He stopped her before she could protest further, "I could use the company. I haven't talked to another living soul in hours." It felt more like days. It just might have been.
Ross bowed her head slightly in agreement. "I'll go get another cup, sir." She turned on her heel and exited, closing the door behind her.
Mustang took another sip of tea. "You where one of Ed and Al's bodyguards here in Central." It was more of a statement than a question.
"Yes."
He looked at her intently, "What did you think of them?"
Ross paused for a moment, staring into her cup contemplating. "They are truly amazing boys. What they've been through-" she trailed off.
Mustang didn't need her to finish. The boys had been through a lot in their lifetime. Their mother, Al's situation, he didn't wish their life on anyone. "So you enjoyed being their bodyguard?" he asked changing the subject.
"God no!" Ross quickly shut her mouth and stiffened. She stammered out, "I-I mean certainly, sir," trying to backpedal out of her statement. "I will be ready to stand by them whenever they return."
Mustang grinned behind his tea cup. The young alchemists were a handful. He knew all too well how stressful it was to watch over them. "So tomorrow's good for you then?" he ask calmly.
"What?!" Her eyes widened. "I-I- yes, sir," she sputtered.
He chuckled to himself and said with a smirk, "No need to worry, Ross. They aren't coming back here anytime soon." He paused, thinking about the Elric brothers. They had left before he had arrived in Central, before Hughes' death. He sighed, "I don't even know where they are," more to himself than to Ross.
She looked at him thoughtfully. "You care a lot about them."
He looked back at her, "And you don't?"
"I-I-" she faltered then grew quiet, staring into her cup.
"You can speak candidly here, Lieutenant. Right now we are just two people sharing a cup of tea."
She nodded, "Understood." She stayed silent a few minutes more gathering her thoughts. "They give me hope," she finally said.
He regarded the comment for a moment then replied, "Me too."
"And on the record, sir," she added, "when they do return – if they return – I would gladly be their bodyguard. It may be hell and give me grey hairs but I would go to the ends of the earth for those two."
"Noted." She had a good heart, the heart of a soldier. That much he knew.
They grew quiet for a while, both enjoying the tea and the company. Ross eventually looked up from her cup and asked, "How goes your research, sir?"
The question hit him like a strong punch to the gut. "I don't want to talk about it," he mumbled gruffly.
"That badly?"
"I'm so close!" he shouted in frustration, "I just-!" He stopped himself short. He was losing his composure in front of a subordinate. He sat back in his seat recovering his control over his emotions. "I apologize for my temper, Lieutenant."
"It's fine, sir." She smiled. "I've seen worse. I did look after Ed for multiple weeks."
He smiled to himself, "He does have quite a temper."
"That he does," she agreed with a yawn.
Mustang looked up, "You look tired, Ross." She had lines under her eyes and there was a general weariness about her. He hadn't noticed it until now.
She nodded, "I am, sir. I haven't been sleeping much."
"Switching to a night shift can be a difficult adjustment." He knew it all too well from being in the field, especially in Ishval. But there were other reasons he couldn't sleep then too.
"Yes, but" She paused to yawn again. "It's still been hard to sleep, ever since-" she trailed off again.
She was going to say since Hughes death. He knew she was. He had forgotten that Ross had been working with Hughes closely before his death. "I understand." He placed his cup on the coffee table. "You should take the night off."
"No, sir!" she protested. "I couldn't."
"I'm sure Sergeant Brosh can handle a night on his own." He actually wasn't. He couldn't trust the sergeant to do anything, but Ross looked exhausted.
She chuckled. "You can't leave him for two seconds before he falls asleep." Then she added, "It wouldn't be fair to him. It's not his fault I can't sleep. And besides, the night off wouldn't help my lack of sleep only make it more frustrating."
The conversation trailed off after that. Soon, Ross left and the colonel returned to his futile attempts to decipher the jumbled mess that lay before him.
Mustang cursed to himself and flipped through some more pages of a file he was looking over. It seemed significant but he had no idea why. He had no idea why any of these files where here. He was spinning his wheels and he knew it.
Ross had left a few hours ago. The break from research had been nice. He had been able to relax for a second. But the tension in his shoulders and the weariness from staring at small print for so long had returned almost the moment he had gotten back to work. He felt as if he were in a thick all-encompassing fog that wouldn't let him see more than two feet in front of him. He could see that all of this, all of the things Hughes had looked at, was leading to something, but he had no clue what that might be.
His legs starting itching to move and he couldn't keep his foot still. He got up and started pacing near his desk. He was no closer to finding out the truth than when he had been on the phone with Hughes the night he had died. It all frustrated him to no end. If he had just answered the phone quicker. Images of the crime scene flash in his mind. He felt weak and useless. He couldn't stand it anymore! All his efforts had gotten him nowhere! He picked up the book nearest to him and hurled it at the far wall, giving out a roar of frustration.
Within seconds the door flung open and Lieutenant Ross came running in. "Colonel! Is everything alright, sir?!" worry written across her face.
"I've had enough of this!" he bellowed. "I don't know what he was trying to do! I don't know what any of this means! Every time I'm about to figure it out it all slips through my fingers!"
She closed the door and approached him slowly, hands out as if trying to calm a raging beast. "Sir, maybe you should take a break," she said steadily. "You've been at this for four days without rest."
"I can rest when I've figured this out! I need to know what he was doing! I need to know why he was killed! He was trying to tell me something, Ross! I had him on the phone!"
"You're trying to figure out what took General Hughes weeks in only a few days. You need to give your mind some time to sort it out, sir. Maybe it will make sense in the morning." Ross said sounding calm.
He breathed heavily, disdain dripping in his voice, "How can I sleep not knowing the truth? His last dying moments where to tell me something I can't figure out! None of this makes any sense!" A thought crossed his mind as a crazed look entered his eyes and he laughed to himself. His voice became unnaturally calm. "There's no use to any of this. I'll never know the truth. I might as well just set this whole room on fire." He smirked and laughed again. "Yes! That's what I'll do!" In a blink of an eye he had taken his ignition glove out of his pocket and effortlessly pulled it over his hand.
Ross ran at him. "Colonel, no!" grabbing his hand tightly. "Don't do this."
He looked at her curiously. "I could easily throw you off."
"I know, but I'm hoping you'll listen to reason." There was a sense of command in her voice. "You need to rest, sir. Your mind is overworked. The only way you can make any progress is by waiting for everything to settle. Wandering around in a blind haze will get you nowhere." She grew more confidant as she spoke. "I know General Hughes meant a lot to you and I know you want to understand why he died. But if he could see you now he would be ashamed. You've become a tragic mess of a man in his name. Even in his last weeks when he was working all the time on this secret project, he took the time to go home or call you. He knew that the mind needs rest and comfort to stay sane. He wouldn't want you to sacrifice everything to avenge his death."
She was staring him in the eyes. The anger and frustration he had felt had faded into shame and exhaustion. He felt broken and worn out. He dropped his gaze because he could not stand to see her criticizing stare any longer. He wished Ross hadn't seen him like this. His voice felt weak and foreign as he tried to explain himself, "How can I rest when I see his face every time I close my eyes? How can I seek comfort knowing he will never see his wife and child again? I have all these thoughts racing through my mind and I can't quiet them."
"Then let's give them a reason to shut up." The lieutenant pulled his chin up with her fingertips. Before he could even comprehend the situation her lips were on his, gentle but commanding. She pulled him closer by his collar. His hands, of their own volition, wrapped around her waist as her kiss melted everything from his mind.
A thought broke through the fog of desire. What was he doing? This was his subordinate. He pushed her away and searched her eyes for some kind of explanation, utterly dumbfounded. "Lieutenant?"
"I'm not a lieutenant right now," she said as she took off her uniform jacket and dropped it on the ground. "I'm just a woman. Are you just a man?"
There she was daring him again with those deep blue eyes, but this time she didn't want him to back down. A million thoughts raced through his head at once, but one in particular stood out. He wanted her mouth on his again. He wanted the clarity and stillness of mind he had felt moments before as their lips where intertwined. No thoughts. Just her. He mumbled an agreement as he unbuttoned his jacket and let it fall to the floor. He pulled Ross towards him, hungrily taking her mouth in his.
Her fingers left trails of fire as they moved down his chest and un-tucked his shirt. He broke away to hastily pull her T-shirt over her head. It felt like his entire body was suddenly thrust into an inferno as her hand touched his bare skin under his now unbuttoned shirt.
And as quickly as the inferno came it turned into bone chilling ice as a knock at the door broke them apart. A voice emitted from the other side of the door, "Colonel, it's Havoc. You in there?"
He wanted to shout 'Of course I'm in here, you idiot! Now go away!' but instead he hollered, "One second, Lieutenant!" and whispered to Ross to get behind the door as he handed her their scattered clothes. He started buttoning up his shirt as he opened the door to reveal the interfering Lieutenant Havoc.
"Sir, the-" Havoc began, but then was distracted as the colonel continued to button his shirt. "What happened to your shirt?"
Thinking fast as he tucked it in, Mustang replied, "It's hot in here, what with all the…research." He couldn't come up with a better reason. "You were saying?"
"Uh… the, uh," he stuttered, still a bit shaken by his disheveled superior. "The Fuhrer has requested to see you, sir."
"At this time of night? Alright. Let me just get my jacket." Mustang reached around the door to where Ross was hiding and motioned for her to give him his jacket.
She handed it to him and he put his arm through the sleeve, finding it to be a bit shorter than he expected. He looked down to see a second lieutenant's shoulder bar where a colonel's should have been. He quickly took the jacket off, hoping Havoc hadn't seen the ranks and thrust the jacket behind the door, saying with feigned confidence, "Oops, grabbed the wrong one. My other jacket fits better than this one," as he gestured angrily at Ross for his actual jacket. He looked behind the door to give her a nasty glare and she smiled back apologetically while handing him the other jacket.
"You have two jackets in there, sir?" Havoc said confused.
"Of course I have two jackets, Havoc!" Mustang bellowed as he put his jacket on and shoved Havoc out of the doorway. Mustang started walking down the hallway and Havoc fell in line behind him as the colonel continued to holler, "What a stupid question! What if I spill coffee on this one? What would I do then, go around out of uniform?! Are you missing your brain, Lieutenant?! I'm no slipshod private! I'm trying to become Fuhrer! I can't become Fuhrer with a coffee stain on my jacket, now can I? Would you want a Fuhrer who walks around with coffee on his jacket, Lieutenant?!
"N-no, sir." He stammered in reply.
"I didn't think so!" Mustang thundered once more.
Ross smiled to herself, only the colonel could pull that off. She sighed and rested her head on the bookcase next to her. She waited for the colonel's tirade to fade out completely before she moved away from the coatrack. She started to put her shirt back on as she thought about the events that had just transpired. Her heart was still racing and she had butterflies. Mustang had lived up to his reputation as the most eligible bachelor of Central that was for sure. But it was probably for the best that Havoc had interrupted them. If he hadn't, who knows what could have happened, and with a higher ranking officer. He was her superior!
Her mind reeled at the final realization. What had she been thinking? Mustang was her superior and she had just seduced him while he was emotionally unstable. It seemed like the only solution at the time. She had learned in some book somewhere that personal contact reduced the fight or flight reflexes of the body. That knowledge combined with her tiredness and her concern for the colonel's safety must have made her think seduction was the only course of action. It made absolutely zero sense now. She could lose her job over this. She felt nauseous and a little light head. She suddenly wanted to run very very far away and never look back.
Mustang sighed as he walked down the long corridors of the Central Library on his way back to his room. He had sent Havoc home after the meeting. For some reason his faithful Officer in Charge had still been around when the Fuhrer's secretary had gone looking for Mustang. The Fuhrer had received some information on the recent whereabouts of Scar and wanted to move Mustang to the lead on the search for the alchemic murderer. Bradley had, at his request, given him until the end of the week to rap up the Hughes case.
Mustang passed by Sergeant Brosh, asleep at his post as usual, but didn't see Lieutenant Ross. He sighed thinking, not for the first time in the past hour, of the lieutenant's interrupted advances. He chuckled to himself. It seemed appropriate that Havoc be the one to interrupt them. He had stolen so many of his poor second lieutenant's girlfriends that it was almost like unwitting payback. It was probably for the best anyway. This was no time for indulgence and frolicking, especially with a subordinate. And he didn't want to know what Major Armstrong would do if he found out he had taken advantage of his prized lieutenant. Mustang shivered at the thought.
As he entered and closed the door to his makeshift quarters he felt that something was off. He wasn't alone. He stopped for a moment then walked over to his desk, taking off his uniform jacket and placing it on the back of the chair.
"You're still here?" he asked calmly, his back to his guest.
"Yes." Ross replied. She had wanted to get away from this room earlier, to run from the mess she found herself in, but she had known she couldn't do that. She had to explain herself. She had to apologize for her transgression and try to save her job. She hoped he would understand her reasons.
Her legs felt vaporous as she stood up from her chair. She felt small, like a child apologizing for breaking a prize possession. Her hands were shaking. She clenched them to get rid of the feeling. She hadn't felt this nervous since her first year in the Academy. Her mouth felt dry as she spoke, "I didn't want you to-I wanted to explain," she paused to swallow, "about earlier, sir."
He said without turning around, "I understand, Lieutenant. No need to explain. I don't think any less of you. You were just trying to help my state of mind."
"That's not-" she began, but then agreed, "Yes, but-" She stopped not knowing how to proceed. She had thought long and hard about the reasons behind her actions while he was away. She needed to make him understand. "It's more than that, sir. I have come to have a respect for you, sir, and I look up to you as many of your subordinates do. But also I have an admiration for you which goes deeper than professionalism. I acted on that tonight. It was some combination of my worry for your state of mind and these sleepless nights. I apologize for my actions. I wasn't thinking straight." Her eyes were pinned to the slats of floorboard about five feet in front of her. Her heart was racing again, and her clenched fists were starting to feel sweaty.
"No need to apologize, Ross. It worked, didn't it? You calmed me down," he smiled, "in a way. Thank you."
"You're welcome, sir."
Still facing his desk, he added, "And don't worry. I could have stopped you at any time. That's on me, not you."
"Yes, sir."
He was quiet for far longer than made Ross comfortable. Mustang picked up a picture frame from his desk and studied it. She thought it might be the one of him and Hughes in Ishval. It was a good photo of both of them. Mustang looked much younger then, less jaded, and carefree. Her thoughts were interrupted by Mustang breaking out in a deep cheerful laugh.
Ross looked at the back of the colonel's head in utter confusion, hoping he wasn't cracking again. His laugh didn't sound erratic. It sounded almost happy. "What's funny, sir?"
"I never understood what he meant until now," he said to himself more than to Ross.
"Understand what?" she asked.
He smiled to himself, "Hughes always told me I needed a wife."
"What?!" she exclaimed. That last word hit her like a bucket of ice. Her heart was practically in her throat and she couldn't breathe.
Mustang quickly turned to her, his hands up apologetically. "No, I-" he stuttered defensively, "I'm sorry, Ross. That's not what I meant. I-I just understand why he was so persistent on it is all, so I could have something- someone- to go home to as a diversion from this crazy place we work in, as a comfort."
"Oh," she sighed in relief. She let herself calm down before speaking again, "He did care a lot about you, sir."
"As do you," Mustang smiled.
"What?" She was thrown off by the comment and stuttered, "I-No, I-Did I say that? I didn't-"
He cut her short, "It's alright." He began to slowly walk towards her. "I hadn't thought about it fully before, probably because you are my subordinate, but you have many traits that I admire, Maria."
Her breath caught in her throat, shocked at the informality and audacity of his statement. She felt her cheeks flush. Her eyes shot back to the floorboards as she tried to protest, "Sir."
He continued to approach her. "Your sense of loyalty is admirable. You are very honest even to your superiors if need be. You are one of the most caring and passionate soldiers I've met, but you show restraint and don't let that passion keep you from acting professionally." He grinned, "Most of the time. And you are very beautiful." The last words were said a mere foot away.
She couldn't look at him. Her stare was fixed on the second-to-top button of his shirt. Her heart was pounding in her ears and her cheeks burned like she was standing inches from a blazing fire. "Colonel," she began but couldn't go on. Her throat felt as if it were being twisted like rung laundry.
"Maria, look at me," He whispered softly. He lifted her chin up tenderly. "This is not an order. This is not even a request. You have all the say here. I am just a man." He said each word deliberately. "Do you understand?"
Her knees felt like crumbling rock barely holding her up. It was hard to breathe. His hand on her chin felt like a hot flame licking her face. Words seemed to escape her. Her mind was running a hundred miles a minute but she couldn't say a thing. All she could do was nod. When did she become a love-struck fool unable to move or speak at a simple touch? As the one doing the seducing only an hour earlier she sure wasn't very good at being on the receiving end.
He moved in closer, leaning his head down to softly kiss her lips. She melted into his arms and sighed, "Colonel."
He pulled away and smiled, "This isn't going to work if you keep calling me that."
She tried to clear her throat to speak, "Right. Sorry, sir. I-I mean-I-" Panic wiped her mind blank. She racked her brain for that one syllable, grasping at nothing. "God, I know your name. I swear-"
"-Roy," he smiled.
"Right."
He searched her eyes again with a questioning look, "Maria, are you sure you're okay with this?"
"What? Yes." She closed her eyes and breathed in deep to settle her nerves. Her nose filled with the smell of him, a musty spice, old paper on his fingertips, white tea on his breath, and something - vanilla maybe. She wasn't sure. But she was sure about how she felt and she opened her eyes to his hopeful stare. "Yes, Roy-" A smile crossed her lips and she chuckled. His name felt foreign on her tongue. "Roy, I am." She kissed him hard, pulling him closer, running her hand through his hair. "I'm very sure."
He smiled, picked her up and carried her to his bed. And with that he left behind his research and all thoughts of finding his friend's killer for the rest of the night. Maria made sure that he was solely occupied by her ministrations.