author's note: This is a birthday present for a friend of mine, RGaijin, and I hope she enjoys it, along with the rest of you. Happy Birthday, darling.

Title: The Missing Piece
Genres: Romance
Rating: T
Couple: Miles/Olivier

Too soon.

This was the first thought which trailed through Major Miles' mind as soon as the proposition left his lips. Sometimes adrenaline got the better of him, and he caught himself acting too enthusiastically for an event which could only occur if both sides were cooperative. A little over twelve hours ago, the man was dead, and now here he was, alive, returned to his commanding officer and discussing plans for Ishval's restoration.

Whether or not Olivier Armstrong felt just as keen would remain a mystery. Though her bruised body and scarred face was a good enough excuse to dismiss him and converse about this matter later, she let him stay, considering each idea which sprung to mind. Thirty minutes ago, both had been facing a wanted ex-criminal, who agreed to help Miles achieve his aim which he had held for so many years.

Despite being exhausted, limbs and muscles aching, heads pounding, throats dry –– both didn't rest. If Miles was to set this plan in motion, he needed to get started right away. Colonel Mustang expressed high encouragement, and was keen for Miles be transferred under his command so the two would be in contact frequently and easily.

At first, Major Miles was slightly turned off because the man had been blinded by the freak who called himself God, however word was quickly spread and Colonel Mustang would have his eyesight restored by a Philosopher's Stone. Usually, this would disgust Miles, but thinking into it, he knew it was correct. Of course Roy would go ahead with the Equivalent Exchange idea: if he received a Philosopher's Stone to cure him, then he would help those who made a Philosopher's Stone possible.

The quarter-Ishvalan couldn't care less about Equivalent Exchange but understood Roy's actions. It was fair, in most ways.

'I recommend you see Mustang tomorrow, so he's clear about everything.' Olivier swerved her eyes away from him for a second. 'I agree though: you transferred under his command would make life easier between the two of you, and you'd best get this arrangement dealt with quickly because I don't intend to hang around.'

Miles understood the Briggs commander wasn't fond of Central, or the Armstrong Manor.

'Of course, ma'am.' Yet he had a hunch Olivier wouldn't just leave. She would make sure Miles was sorted first. 'I really believe this will run smoothly.' Then he pulled a careful smile her way.

She didn't return it.

'If that arrogant punk causes problems for you, I'll make sure he knows what's best for him.' Olivier's hand drifted past the handle of her blade. 'You can go. We're finished here.'

Admittedly, Miles was a little surprised with her dismissal, but snapped into a salute at once. 'Yes ma'am.'

Just as he passed her, the man caught a glint of anger from her blue irises and his spine tingled. Had he said something wrong? No. No, he hadn't. There was obviously another matter which irked Olivier.

Hand catching the doorknob, Miles realised he had a lot of time to kill. He hadn't showered in about two days, so would really do with one. Peering over his shoulder, Miles asked: 'Do you know where I can shower?'

If Armstrong were mad, he no longer discovered the emotion in her eyes. She must have quickly realised her slight error. 'Down the hallway on the left, fifth room.' Then the same glint in her pupils returned, and he realised this was about him. Whatever it was, the emotion was simply too strong for her to contain any longer.

I've done something wrong.

'Thank you,' Miles said quietly, before exiting the room.

Olivier was fantastic at covering her emotions, and only allowed them to slip a little in front of those she wholly trusted. To be honest, Miles should feel flattered she revealed a rare fury bubbling though her, but instead he was concerned. Whatever was on her mind, he wished she would tell him so they could discuss it.

He knew she didn't like her eyes, for the very exact reason they expressed her feelings. If one could study her well, then they would be able to tell exactly what was going on through her mind by those bright blues. It was ironic how naive they appeared. In some ways, they didn't suit the stoic warrior. In other ways, they turned her into more of a wrapped up mystery and startlingly beautiful.

Stripping off his uniform, Miles stepped into the lavish shower and switched it on. A storm of water came pouring down his muscly, aching form and he pulled out the band which tied his hair back, before placing it on the side. It was relieving to be washed –– rinsed from everything which had occurred. To start again.

Just as he was about to grab the shampoo, Miles was alerted by the sound of the door opening. Without turning around to see who it was he continued washing, though retreated from the shampoo, wondering who his encounter was.

Cool, small arms wrapped around his waist, and someone soft pressed their naked chest against his back. Miles heart stopped, then his eyelids drooped. He knew who it was, of course, but was surprised. Shocked even. No, scared. Olivier was falling apart, and he was the only witness. He could only imagine the amount of trauma she had to endure, and how painful it would have been to keep it all hidden.

There was something quite disturbing about the woman currently embracing him. Though he was unable to see her expression, he could feel her emotions bouncing together, causing her heart to throb in agony. It made his knees grow weak. This wasn't deliberate. It was just a hidden, unknown talent the blonde possessed.

If she expressed sadness, anger, pity it would affect everyone in the room.

Then everything fell into place.

Olivier didn't want to be abandoned.

Had this happened to her before? Did Buccaneer's death trigger––?

Then her arms slid away from his waist, yet where she touched him still felt cold as if she had left her mark on him. Made it clear –– he was her property. Was, and always had been, her Knight.

Miles turned, the result of which only brought them closer together. Dark, red eyes trailed past the girl's pale face to her wounded body, some injuries not entirely scarred over yet. Her gorgeous skin was ruined, black and purple bruises here and there, and even though the blood had stopped pouring, some wounds still reflected the colour of his irises.

Ironically, the Ishvalan was far more supreme in appearance than the Amestrian.

Bravely he met her gaze: a hurricane of fury flashed at him, hypnotising the man in place, and he was mesmerised with such beauty. Yet behind the hurricane, a gentle fire attempted to calm her, ease the girl.

Miles softly held the blonde just above her elbows.

'I––'

Without saying a word, Olivier stopped his tongue. He honestly had nothing worthy to say. Not anymore. Nothing which would help her out of this pool of confusion. Suddenly Miles felt useless and this hurt more than it should.

She's so quiet.

Desperately, Miles slammed his mouth onto hers. The puzzlement only grew: this wasn't the answer. This wouldn't solve anything, and they both knew it. They shared open-mouthed kisses, carefully, and softly, a surprising trait held by the skilful and feared warrior in his hands. Who was actually melting. He could feel her muscles loosening, finding it difficult to remain conscious.

Each kiss felt like a remedy, curing any stress writhing through her, placing together those broken emotions, opening her mind and making it accessible again. Then Olivier realised she was exhausted. So exhausted.

Neither stopped their affections for a long time. The idea of releasing each other was horrifying, but so easy.

Soon logic poured into her head, and she could think again.

Of course logic scolded her. How dare she spill her feelings in front of him? How dare she act human? How dare she care?

It was as if Miles read her.

And when he began to pull away, deciding it best they stop, Olivier clung to him. Wounded arms wrapped around his neck, pressed herself tightly against him and she continued to kiss the man passionately.

Olivier didn't know it was possible they could be even closer until Miles responded, his own limbs finding their way around her petite figure and tightly fitting them both together.

It wasn't secure enough. Olivier wanted to be closer. She didn't want him to stop.

Yet they had to –– if only for a couple of seconds. Miles was wise to discover they needed to breathe, even though the two had never felt so alive. Turning the shower off, he considered his options: leave her be, pretend nothing happened or... continue.

They both knew he was incapable of leaving her be.

Not now.

When the puzzled lovers arrived in the safety of Olivier's room, Miles held either side of her face with both hands gently and kissed her bruised lips again, sending a hand through her thick, slightly messy blonde hair.

Olivier walked backwards, palms pressed against his shoulders, before he had her beneath him on the bed, their lips still touching, now growing used to the strange, yet common affection shared between two people.

'––You're mine.'

Her voice wasn't recognisable at first, and it took Miles a moment to realise she could speak again. Those two words made his heart stop. I'm hers. The way she said it lacked any sense of love though. He knew exactly what she meant.

Olivier had to fight for him to be by her side. And now, the one man who would have been against such catastrophe wanted the very same man with him. It was if Olivier's attempts were worthless in the end.

Because she eventually would end up losing Miles.

'You're mine...' she repeated in a whisper, and he cut her off with his lips, continuing to kiss her with the same passion, holding her in place. He knows. He knows. She may have lost hundreds of men, may have lost her best friend, but Miles wasn't gone.

She wouldn't lose him so easily.

'Miles––'

The man shivered, his forwardness satisfying but foolish. A sweet moan escaped her lips when he filled her completely, and she gripped onto his grey strands, kissing his mouth, releasing a breathy gasp when he rocked again.

Miles balanced himself on his elbows, and brushed his thumbs against her cheeks.

'I'm not leaving you.'

'It's not fair.'

–– What is fair?

Positioning himself on his hands again, Miles moved gently, not wanting to hurt Olivier anymore than she had been. Currently, the lady was a torn mess in his arms, desperate to keep him by her side, because that was how it always had been. Always should be. He made a pact to remain with her.

Even if he was transferred, Roy wouldn't understand him. Only Olivier knew.

She's losing men too fast.

Tangled together, their moans fell and rose in pitch, but he was so gentle. Extremely careful, acting in a way Olivier hadn't witnessed nor felt for such a long time –– or at all.

Kissing hungrily, Miles came, his heart pounding furiously against his chest. He didn't stop holding her though, pressing Olivier close to him so she could hear his heart beating –– he was still alive.

They lay together in silence, the darkness from outside creating an eery glow inside their room. It was late, but neither had a clue what the time was. Finally, though, Olivier could register she was tired and needed sleep. In Miles' warm, long arms this wouldn't be a tricky process, but the constant thought she would travel back to Briggs alone made her feel uncomfortable.

Miles wasn't sure if Olivier had gone to sleep, but he spoke anyway, just loud enough for her to hear: 'I'm not going anywhere.'

No response. The Major was about to readjust his position so he could see her properly, but Olivier gripped his arm hard, making it clear she didn't want him to see her. Neither spoke and soon he was sure Olivier had drifted into a deep slumber, her mind and body healing from everything which had been thrown at her these past few months.
It was a very rare person indeed to witness this woman sleeping, but Miles held no pride.

Instead he tightened his grip around her protectively, his thoughts keeping him awake. Olivier couldn't have made it clearer she wished him to stay under her command. She wasn't fond of change, especially if it was happening to her. Yet despite all of this, he had a hunch Armstrong wouldn't allow this emotion to cause complications between them again. Whether or not she did hold strong feelings for him would always be a mystery unsolved.

Miles could handle this.

The next morning, the Ishvalan Major awoke to an empty space. At first, he thought Olivier had deserted him without saying a word, which would have been not only unprofessional on her part but also immature. However flipping around he saw the woman had just finished getting dressed, military uniform clean and ironed, prepared for the journey back to Fort Briggs.

Cold, blue eyes flashed over to him. Miles was unable to discover any lingering emotions, and realised he should feel proud of himself, for he had, in his own way, treated Olivier from her own demons. Last night, she was slowly falling apart, something he gathered the woman always feared. Luckily, he was there. And luckily, he would remain quiet about the matter.

'I hope you remember where your duty lies, Major.'

He frowned, wondering if this was a trick question, but then he realised it was rhetorical. Removing the sheet, the man grabbed his clothes which he had brought back the previous evening. Memories returned like flashes, and it felt almost like a dream to imagine how intimate he became with Olivier. Thinking it wise to not ponder over the situation Miles pulled on his clothes, prepared for any awaiting orders.

When he turned to face Olivier she spoke.

'Colonel Mustang has been in contact, and he wishes to see you just after one. I should have departed by then, but I trust you know what you're doing.'

Again, Miles searched for any anger or sadness, but failed.

She really was cured.

'Of course,' Miles said, shrugging on his military jacket. 'I'll communicate with you later today. Did you sleep well?'

It felt like an axe was thrown at his head as soon as he asked. While a simple question, Miles should have known it was also quite insensitive to inquire. Both remembered what occurred between them, how she acted, how he acted. Sometimes he wished he thought before speaking.

However Olivier wouldn't allow something so small to reach her.

'Yes.' Then she made her way to the door, although Miles caught a small, knowing smile stretching over her lips. 'When you're ready, come downstairs. Hopefully my parents have already eaten, but they spend hours at the table after breakfast anyway. I'll have one of the maids send Scar some food as well.'

'I'll meet you soon, ma'am.' However he couldn't just leave her like that. Miles needed to be sure. 'About last night––'

'What happened last night is strictly between us, Miles, and if I hear the slightest implication from someone I will be after you.'

He believed her, but: 'I hope you're feeling better.'

For a moment Miles believed she would be completely honest, and reveal how she felt. Explain the loneliness, the worry, the jealousy of Mustang nabbing her right-hand man off her. Because if she did, Miles would understand.
Yet that was silly hope.

This was Olivier.

'Of course,' she said, and opened the door. 'Be quick, Major. I need to have someone sane with me.'

Miles nodded and she left.

So maybe she hadn't been completely open with him, but right now Miles doubted she had been this open with anyone. Everything he gathered and heard last night would stick with him, however he wouldn't mention it again, unless it was truly necessary. It was clear Olivier wasn't impressed with herself for her actions but she wasn't ashamed either.

Pulling on his last boot, Miles exited and hurried down the staircase to join his commanding officer and be forced into a conversation with her high-esteemed, but peculiar family.
When he found her, Miles allowed his hand to brush over hers quickly, the simple gesture sending a strong message between them.

It would be all right.