"So this is where you were."

The comment broke through the haze of exhaustion and jerked Breda back to alertness. He lifted his head so fast he cracked it against the wall behind him. He rubbed the back of his head gingerly and felt the grit of dirt in the stubble of his hair and looked up sourly at the woman in front of him.

Maria Ross wasn't looking at him. Her face was contorted with a massive yawn. "Ah- sorry," she muttered. "I came to tell you there's fresh coffee."

"Looks like you could use some yourself," Breda pointed out. Ross blinked at him and lifted a hand to wipe at her watering eyes. Breda saw her check the motion and glanced away. He was too familiar with that habit.

She couldn't wipe her face because her hands were covered in blood. So were his. They had joined the teams of people shifting rubble, looking for survivors in the ruins of Central. All too often, when they found somebody it was too late to save them. Still, they brought the bodies out, no matter how bloody and unrecognizable they may be.

"I'd rather have a rest," Ross confessed with a brittle smile. Breda met her eyes and jerked his head wordlessly at the patch of ground beside him. She slid down next to him and together they silently watched the scene before them.

Medic tents crowded the stretch of lawn before them. In the middle distance soldiers continued their search through the ruins of Central. The low din of the army in motion echoed through the courtyard; shouts and groans, the tramp of boots, the jangle and clank of equipment. Dust and smoke drifted like shreds of fog across the scene, mingling with the orange of the sinking sun to cast an eerie reddish tint over everything.

Neither of them said anything, but Breda suspected their thoughts were similar despite their silence.

"Somehow it doesn't feel like we won," Ross murmured. "I know it's usually like this after a battle, but this feels even worse."

Breda grunted in agreement. The last few months in Pendleton had given Breda his share of battlefield experience, and he had come to recognize the hollowed out feeling that welled up like oily black water, smothering everything.

A motion beside him made him look up at the former lieutenant. She was clutching her elbows and shaking.

"Hey," Breda said, scowling in alarm.

"It's nothing," Ross said with a brittle laugh. "Just the adrenaline wearing off."

"It's been a long day," he said noncommittally. "How long have you been up?"

"Must be going on something like thirty hours now. We stopped in Dearborn to rest for a few hours yesterday afternoon, then we drove the rest of the way to Central. By the time we reached the city it was already dawn. You guys got things started early, though. We thought we'd have more time to arrange a rendezvous before the Central forces caught on." Ross paused and glanced at Breda. "Are you trying to distract me?"

"Yes. Is it working?"

"I don't know. No." She rubbed her hands up and down her arms roughly and grit her teeth. "Dammit! I just can't seem to get warm." Her voice pitched upwards and despite her attempt to lighten her tone he could hear the edge of panic in her words.

Without thinking, Breda put an arm around her shoulders and pulled her close. They were about the same height and, if he bothered to think about it at all, Breda thought of Ross as being sturdy and capable. Right now, though, he could feel the difference between their bodies. His arm completely encompassed the span of her shoulders with room to spare. Despite the strength in her arms, he could feel how fine her bones were.

Breda let his body absorb her shivers. He had seen Ross right after her escape from prison, and at the time had admired her fortitude and calm despite the chaotic situation. Even before, when they had crossed paths in Central, she had seemed to him to be an exemplary soldier, level-headed in every situation and unfailingly pragmatic. He had forgotten that she had grown up in Central, far from the border conflicts that plagued Amestris and which he, born and raised in the East, had grown all too familiar with. She was about his age, with less field experience, and somehow had managed to keep it together until now.

Feeling her shivers start to subside, Breda was struck once again with admiration for this woman, but for a different reason. Ross had survived being framed for murder, fled across a desert into exile in a foreign country, and then returned to plunge into battle against her own countrymen despite knowing next to nothing about the situation she was entering, and had spent the last several hours pulling bodies out of the ruins of a building. She had done all of that despite a fear that had, until a moment ago, had her shaking to pieces.

"How're you feeling?" Breda asked as her shivering finally stopped.

"Better," Ross said weakly, releasing one last shuddering breath. He felt her head shift against his shoulder and glanced down as she leaned into him. "I'm not as cold. You're warm," she added.

Abruptly, Breda felt warm himself. Her observation seemed to be waiting for a comment, but he wasn't sure what he was supposed to say. The only thing he could think of saying was that his past girlfriends had often said that. If it had been any other comrade he would have had no problem saying that, but suddenly he realized he couldn't say it to Ross.

All at once he was aware of their position. The arm around her shoulders felt stiff. Their legs were stretched out in front of them, pressed together from hip to knee. Breda wondered how on earth he could extricate himself from this with the minimum of awkwardness, but he suspected it was already too late. He frowned, irritated at himself both for getting himself into this situation and also for his reluctance to get himself out of it.

"Hey."

At the sound of her voice Breda scowled down at Ross. She was looking up at him, a crooked and wobbly smile on her wan face. When their eyes met her smile widened and smoothed out.

"Thank you."

Breda, to his shock, felt his heart thump hard in his chest.

Suddenly he realized that Maria Ross was pretty. Even shadowed with fatigue, her dark blue eyes were framed by extravagant lashes. Breda noticed for the first time that there was a faint shadow at the corners of her mouth - if she smiled a little wider her dimples would appear.

Breda knew he was not a complicated man. He liked pretty women who thought he was their hero. Was it the stress of the day? Was he still high on adrenaline? Or was it the exhilaration of having survived a battle? Because right now all he knew was that Maria Ross thanking him was everything he wanted in the world.

The realization made him scowl harder, but Ross had already shifted. She straightened in the semi-circle of his arm and Breda could tell she was going to scoot away. Reflexively he tightened his grip on her shoulder and tugged her back.

"'S fine," he muttered as she looked up at him quizzically.

"Yeah?"

Breda turned to face her again and felt his scowl melting away. Her face, which had been worryingly pale before, was getting some of its color back. Her expression wasn't so pinched and tight, though still drawn with weariness. She looked much better than before.

"Yeah," he echoed. Still, he couldn't quite bring himself to break eye contact with her.

Without realizing it, he had leaned forward an inch or two. He stopped himself, but something in her expression made him pause his retreat.

"Yeah?" he said again, more softly. Ross's eyes flickered to his mouth even as she lifted her face towards his.

"Yeah."

Both of them leaned into the kiss, letting their lips meet once, softly. Breda felt his heart thump, hard, again. His skin felt electrified and there was a roaring in his ears. He kissed her again, more firmly, relishing the pressure and heat. Ross kissed him back, angling her mouth against his eagerly. Her lips parted and for a moment Breda's head swam as their breath mingled hotly.

When they broke the kiss some time later Breda had to pause to collect himself. His heart was hammering in his chest and he couldn't seem to draw enough air into his lungs.

Ross tilted her head until it rested on his shoulder. Breda felt her squirm and realized he still gripped her shoulder tightly. Before he could remove his arm, she slid her right arm behind him and rested her hand on his hip.

They sat like that in silence. They felt their chests rise and fall with each breath, and their lips, still tender from the kiss, throb with each beat of their hearts, and the warmth of the other sitting next to them.

Breda rested his cheek on the top of Ross's head and felt her short hair prickle against the stubble along his jaw. With his expression hidden from her view, he allowed himself to squeeze his eyes shut for as long as it took to draw one deep, shaky breath. Wordlessly, Ross increased the pressure of her grip in a one-armed hug.

I'm alive.

AUTHOR NOTES: The whole time I was writing this I hated how it was going. Now that it's written I couldn't imagine it happening any other way. I'm still not sure if that's a good thing or a bad thing, but they got their kiss so I'm happy and I hope you are, too.

Please look forward to lots more fun with these two!