The Black Sheep
Chapter 4.

Riza was used to pressure. She dealt with it since she a young age, and over the years it became a regular emotion for her. Her father was absent when it came to support, so she had to sort problems herself. This had its advantages, but sometimes not. While unnerved with pressure, she was timid dealing with it. Her suggestions on how to slip past tricky paths were not delivered with full confidence.

Rebecca sounded desperate when she informed Riza not to tell Olivier of her cousin's death. Catalina had managed to get out of Hawkeye about the corpse next to Central bridge, and was now aware of the young General's temper.

Hawkeye was in a difficult position: Olivier would be furious if she discovered the Lieutenant (or Captain if the promotion had gone well) hadn't revealed to her about her cousin's death. This would prove Olivier's suspicouns were true. Someone was hurting her by killing those close to her.

Riza considered why her commander had been shot. It wasn't an accident. He had been injured on purpose. Someone must have known Mustang and Olivier shared a mutual trust. Whether General Armstrong would show sympathy if Roy had died was a mystery.

It was fortunate Olivier wasn't fond of her family's company. The news spread quickly to the Armstrong manor, and it was only the oldest daughter who didn't know about the death. It wouldn't be long until she was informed though – if they could find her.

Roy didn't comment on the situation, much to Hawkeye's irritation. He clearly found what was going on tricky, and thus (wisely?) avoided it.

Why did the pressure have to land on Riza? Why?

There were days when she wished she didn't exist in the world.

The General would curse if discovering she had slept in, but this morning she honestly didn't care. It actually felt nice to wake up at twelve in the afternoon, and the extra sleep was worth it. Olivier took her time to leave bed, and an hour later she had changed and lazily preparing breakfast.

She hadn't noticed Miles had gone out until he returned. Olivier gave him a look. He looked flustered, and was holding something under the shirt she had bought him. It was a small lump, and she spotted some brown fur.

'The hotel allows animals,' Miles said, as if that cleared everything.

'Animals?'

The Ishvalan bit his lip and revealed from his shirt a small, tabby kitten. It curled neatly in his arm, dozing silently, paws outstretched. Olivier stared at it.

'I found him. There were a box of kittens in someone's garden. He was the last one,' Miles explained, rubbing the kitten under its ear. Olivier thought she heard the sound of a lawnmower, only to realise it was the kitten purring. Miles looked at her. 'Would you mind him staying here?'

Olivier frowned. 'You don't intend that furball go to Briggs, do you? It'll get squashed.'

'I'll look after him.'

'Not when you're working,' she answered sharply. 'That thing won't stand a chance.'

'Ma'am. . . Don't call him a "thing". He's a cat; kitten.' He carefully outstretched his hands to pass her it. 'Hold him.'

'No thank you,' Olivier said bluntly. She grabbed the milk. 'You're an idiot for buying him.'

'I didn't buy him,' Miles corrected, gazing at the kitten lovingly. 'He was free. I adopted him.'

Olivier scoffed. 'What? How can you adopt a kitten?' She looked at him incredulously. 'That makes no sense whatsoever. You'd better get rid of it when we return to Briggs, Miles.'

He smiled wide. 'So we can keep him?'

She clenched her fists and watched the kitten with dislike. 'I didn't say that. I said when we return to Briggs, you get rid of him. I'm not having cat sick everywhere. Also, where will that thing know where to put its leavings?'

'Briggs is a dump anyway,' Miles muttered under his breath.

'Sorry?' She snapped.

'I said "yes, miss".'

She seethed. Olivier returned making her cereal, and when she made her way to the table Miles was still in the same place, petting his kitten. She gave him a dirty look and sat down. The Ishvalan sat opposite her and gently put the kitten onto the table.

'No way!' Olivier said. 'Get that thing off. Can't you be a little hygienic, Major? I appreciate you Ishvalans worship these creatures, but seriously. Get. It. Off.'

Miles smiled when the kitten rolled onto its back to have its belly rubbed. 'Isn't he cute?'

'No. It's disgusting.'

The Ishvalan snorted. He looked at her, the kitten and then her again. 'You can stroke him if you want.'

'Tsk!' Olivier hastily ate her cereal. She stopped midchew when the kitten suddenly appeared in her view. It purred for no reason whatsoever and turned its nose towards her food. 'Don't you dare. . . That's mine!' She grabbed the bowl before the furry animal could satisfy its needs.

'We need to buy cat food. Litter trays too. Maybe some toys–'

'Why not just buy the thing a house whilst you're at it?' Olivier snapped, giving the kitten nasty looks as it reached its paw out to her.

'Mraeow. . .'

The noise was too sweet for her ears. Olivier almost shook by how cute the damn thing sounded. Its large eyes watched her constantly, mewing for attention.

'What does it want from me?' She asked, staring at it as if it had crawled out from the sewers.

Miles smiled at her. He couldn't help find her confusion adorable. He reached out to stroke the kitten's tail and it began to purr again. 'Just stroke him, General.'

She gritted her teeth and slowly patted its head. It purred enthusiastically, rubbing its head against her hand. Olivier pursed her lips. 'Okay, I get the jist it likes being stroked. How do you get it away from you?'

Miles picked up the kitten (it mewed loudly from the contact) and gently pressed it against him. The kitten purred and closed its eyes, happy. Olivier watched him hug the pet affectionately, and was a tad warmed. She hadn't seen him look so caring and loving before.

'We need to think of a name.'

'Oh don't!' Olivier said. 'Once you give it a name, you start forming a relationship with it and then things get complicated.'

'Where do you get these ideas from?'

'Miles, you're getting rid of it soon, so there's no point giving it a name.'

He ignored her. 'I shall call him Ritu.'

'What the heck?'

'That was my grandfather's name, ma'am.'

Olivier nodded. 'Oh right.' She wandered her eyes over to a wet patch that was forming on Miles' shirt. She widened her eyes. 'It's leaking.'

Miles raised his eyebrows and lifted the kitten away, 'Oh.'

The kitten didn't become much of a pain. Miles spent more time with it than Olivier, unable to not pick him up whenever he saw the small creature. The kitten had a tendency to follow the other around, and it was only when the kitten had followed Olivier all around the apartment did she yell at it to "go away!".

Olivier had reluctantly gone to buy cat equipment with Miles, and by the end of their shopping spree she was full handed with carrier bags. How much stuff did one small animal need? This thing was going to be spoilt. But she would discipline it. That kitten was not going to get all the luxury.

For the remainder of the afternoon, Miles lay across the floor, lightly throwing a play mouse across the room. Ritu went crazy over it (probably because it whiffed of catnip) and dashed to catch it.

The moment he saw a white glove fall out of Olivier's pocket when she wandered past, he knew in a few minutes she would not be a happy bunny. Ritu snatched it with his mouth, and tugged it with its claws, rolling onto its back. It took the General a moment to realise her misplaced glove.

'Son of a–!' She pursed her lips, and threw a glare at Miles. 'Why do you love it so much? I'm looking forward to when we return North and it'll be gone.'

Miles smiled and passed her the mouse. 'Play with Ritu for a bit. He likes you.'

'Feeling isn't mutual.'

'General, cats aren't just animals. They can be so much more.'

A minute later, she was on the floor next to him, throwing the mouse across the room, although a little violently, managing to bounce the mouse off the wall. Ritu was more than happy to have both parents playing with him, even if his mother continued to give him sneers.

Ritu grew tired and, without warning, snuggled against them both, purring loudly.

'You still hate him?'

'. . . He's all right, I suppose. I still think he'll get pummelled at Briggs.'

'He's barely the size of my hands, ma'am. You would have got pummelled at Briggs when you were that small.'

She raised her eyebrows. 'Major, I happen to notice you have been using an inappropriate attitude towards me.'

He couldn't refrain himself. 'Then sack me.'

Olivier scoffed at him and stood to her feet. Miles cringed, hoping he hadn't crossed the line. Oh God, he must have. He had never answered back. Suddenly a heavy, but soft square hit his head. Miles watched the cushion roll over.

'Next time you speak to me like that, it will be a sword to your head.'

Miles snatched the cushion and threw it right back. He burst out laughing, accidentally hitting her square in the face. Olivier growled, and an impish grin formed over her face. 'You want a pillow fight?' She threatened through jarred teeth. 'I'll give you a fucking pillow fight, you pathetic excuse for a man.'

Miles was one step ahead of her. Grinning he grabbed the nearest cushion and sent it straight for her. Olivier caught it and furiously sent the cushion spiralling back at him. The Major was amused by how she could keep a straight face when they were acting like children. Their cushion fight lasted for several minutes, until Olivier "accidentally" threw one at Ritu. He dashed off quickly.

'That's nasty, miss,' Miles said, appalled. 'You could have hurt him.'

'Tell him I said I'm sorry,' she replied sarcastically, her voice trembling a little from holding back a laugh.

'I don't think he likes you anymore,' Miles said. 'You were finally given a friend, and you chucked him away.'

Olivier tutted and turned away. 'He would make a crap friend anyway.'

Miles' adrenaline got the better of him when he pounced at her. For a second, she was completely taken off guard, but somehow managed to turn him over and pin him to the ground. Miles didn't know how she did it. He obviously had the advantage.

'You're still a little rookie, Miles.'

They whipped their heads towards the phone when it started to ring.

Miles felt disappointed when she removed herself off him to pick up. He never knew Olivier was actually fun to be around. He waited for her to finish speaking, but she was more listening than anything. When she spoke to him, her cold demeanour had returned and it felt as if what they had shared had been tossed away.

'That was Hawkeye.'

'Is everything okay?'

'No. My cousin's dead. He was shot.'

Miles widened his eyes and shot to his feet. Not again. 'Which cousin?' He hoped it wasn't the one he was thinking of.

'Jacob. He was working in Spain.' Her eyes drifted away from him, but he caught them water slightly.

His heart dropped. Olivier didn't speak much of her family, but he was aware Jacob and her had a fairly good relationship considering how distant she was. Out of the family Miles had experienced, he gave her the most attitude and tended to laugh whenever she attempted to act scary. He was fond of her, but wasn't afraid. To him, she was just a little girl.

Miles wanted to speak to her about this. He wanted to comfort her, but she refused to even say a single word to him. He backed away from her.

'I'll stay here then, miss,' he said.

'You do that.' She was gone in seconds.

Ritu purred at his feet. Miles was thankful he still had company.

It had been twelve hours since Rebecca had called. Riza was quiet the whole day, only saying a quick 'hello' to whoever greeted her. It wasn't unusual for her to be silent, but Mustang noticed her distance. When lunch time arrived, he proceeded to her desk and asked if she wanted a drink with him.

"I'm okay, sir. I've got these papers to finish."

He snatched them off her. "Come for a coffee, Hawkeye, or I'll chain you up and drag you with me." He grinned.

"You've got chains, sir?"

"I've got much more as well."

Riza shot to her feet. "Where do you want to go?"

"The canteen."

Hawkeye gave him a sarcastic smile. "You're quite the charmer, sir. I'd be delighted to join you."

Grinning, Roy made a loop with his arm and she slung hers through. He escorted her out, down the steps and into the large hall where colleagues were being served their lunch. They sat down, secluded from the others, with a coffee each and a slice of cake between them.

"What's bothering you?" Roy asked.

"Rebecca's phone call."

Mustang sighed and rolled his eyes. "Forget it. She told you to not inform General Bighead, so don't."

"I feel like I need to though," Riza said. "Call me stupid, but. . . I feel sorry for General Armstrong for not knowing. She was close to this cousin of hers."

"Does she deserve to know?"

Hawkeye glared at him. "I think she does."

"Lieutenant, she tortured children. She's vermin."

Riza watched him long and hard. She softened her expression. "You don't mean that."

Roy swallowed. "It doesn't matter. Look, if it bothers you so much, let me tell Armstrong. Then Rebecca will have a go at me, not you."

"Sir, that is very kind of you." Riza meant it. "But I don't think Armstrong would feel better if you told her. If she does like this cousin, then she might prefer to hear his death from someone she likes."

Roy smirked. "Don't flatter yourself."

"Sir," Riza lowered her voice to a whisper, and leaned closer to him. "These deaths aren't coincidences, are they? Someone is planning them."

Mustang lowered his gaze. He hadn't told her what Johnny had said about all of these people wanting revenge. Now he thought about it, the whole situation was stupid and cruel. Then again, Roy hadn't had his offspring tortured before his eyes. Olivier had been a young soldier back then – inexperienced. He had to give her credit. Yet torturing children would have never crossed his mind.

He decided to reveal to his subordinate what Johnny had said.

"That makes sense," Riza responded, having a bit of cake. "Sir. . . Who will they kill next?" She met Roy's gaze. "I may be speaking out of term, but aren't her and Miles close?"

Roy laughed. "Come on, this is Olivier we're talking about."

"Exactly."

He furrowed his eyebrows. "You think they're in a relationship?"

"No, sir, I don't think that. But I know those two are close."

"Like, me and you close?"

She grinned. "What are we?"

He sniggered. "I don't know. Friends, I suppose. . . Or something else. Eh–" he shrugged.

"If someone close to you had died, would you have preferred to have been told?"

Roy's smile faded. Flashes of Hughes' death entered his head. He jarred his teeth. "Of course, but it wouldn't do me much good."

"I have to tell her," Riza whispered.

"Don't lay all the pressure on yourself. Think about it. If you want me to tell her, then just ask." His hand grazed over hers. She removed her hand from the table.

"Thank you, sir." Riza stood and left.

She didn't speak to him for twenty-four hours. Roy had finished his lunch and was on his way to the men's rest room, when she came hurrying towards him. He widened his eyes by her flustered expression.

"I'm going to tell her now."

"What? You crazy?"

"Yes."

Roy followed her to the phone section and watched as she picked one up. He chewed his lip and rubbed his temple. "Hawkeye, she might blow off steam at you."

"I don't care."

"Hm?"

Riza looked at him. "Rebecca did want me to tell Armstrong, but she was giving me a choice. There are only a few people in the world who the General won't yell at, and one of them is me. Armstrong doesn't mind me, and if I tell her. . ."

"You sure?"

"Yes. It's comforting to hear someone's death from a close friend." She met his gaze. "You were with me when my father died in the hospital. You told me he was dead. I couldn't have handled it well if you weren't there. I needed someone I trusted to tell me."

Roy was touched. He smiled slightly. "You've thought into this. . ."

Riza didn't respond. She had already dialled.

'Miles?'

He opened his eyes and was shocked he had fallen asleep. A blanket was sprawled across his lap and Ritu was neatly curled in the blanket, dozing happily. He panicked a little when he realised his General had been waking him up. He began to stand, but she held his shoulder.

'You don't need to move,' she said gently, her eyes straying towards the kitten.

It was past midnight. The curtains were still open, and the dark was heavy in the small room.

'Can I sit with you?'

It took Miles a while to realise she had asked him that. 'Of course, miss.' Calling her "miss" sounded peculiar now. Over the past few days, their relationship had evolved into something completely different.

Miles passed her the sleeping kitten.

'Oh. . . thanks,' she murmured, reluctantly taking him in her arms.

Carefully, the Ishvalan inched closer and held her. It was like hugging stone. She was frozen in his arms. 'I'm sorry,' he whispered. 'I wish I could help. . .'

Olivier didn't respond at first. She stared ahead for a minute, thoughts whirling through her head. Then she pressed her lips against his. 'They want to bury him as soon as possible.'

'When is the funeral?'

'Tomorrow. I don't think I want to go.'

Did she fear someone was going to be there? Miles tightened his grip around her. 'I'll come along.'

'You don't need to.'

'I will.'

She didn't bother arguing.

A sixteen-year-old grew fond of her during the day. Olivier pretended to not notice him when he followed her around or asked who she was called. She couldn't help be reminded of Ritu. Miles gathered he wasn't an Armstrong relation because of his jet black hair, so he must have been adopted. Miles preferred to be out of the way whilst relatives came pouring into the manor. He watched his General occasionally, wondering if she would give a sign to someone she disliked, but she was far too subtle.

He received his first acknowledgement from a middle-aged man. He gave Miles a disapproving look, raised his eyebrows and walked away. The Ishvalan didn't feel put off at all. He didn't care what others thought. He was only here to support his commander. That was all that mattered to him.

When the teen was taken away by his mother, Olivier returned to Miles' side without a word, and remained with him for the next hour. Occasionally someone would talk to them, but they were alone most of the time. Miles was tempted to hold her again, but had a hunch she wouldn't be happy if he did. Even though she looked almost tedious, he knew inside she was breaking.

Miles was taken aback when she held his hand whilst they proceeded to the graveyard. He looked at her, but she didn't look at him. He frowned. What was wrong? He peered around his shoulder, as if expecting someone to give him an answer.

Olivier released his hand when they arrived at the coffin, several others already before them. In seconds, the place was crowded and Miles even had trouble seeing. All through the funeral, Olivier kept her eyes to the ground, fists clenched.

The teen came running over to her when everyone dispersed. He was frowning deeply, and looked irritated and confused.

'Why did they bury him?' He asked sincerely.

Olivier looked at him, then away.

'Missus?'

'You should ask your father,' Olivier said bluntly.

'. . . My dad's dead.'

The blonde looked at the boy again, and she noticed the colour of his eyes. Miles spotted himself. They exchanged glances. 'Was your father Ishvalan?'

'Yeah. . .' the boy looked at Miles, then her. 'He died during the war, I think. I dunno. My aunty didn't touch on my dad much. Anyway, why did they bury him?'

'Because he's dead.'

'No, I mean, why here? My uncle loved it where it snowed. Not where it was sunny.' The teen obviously had a mind of his own.

'He did like the snow,' Olivier agreed. 'But I don't think he would have cared where he was buried. Is your mother with you?'

'Nah,' the boy said casually. 'I'm with my aunty.'

'Where is your mother?'

'She's dead as well. My aunty said she died in a car crash.'

Olivier stiffened slightly. 'What's your name, kid?'

'Joshua.'

Miles swallowed when he saw Olivier's expression change dramatically. A wave of shock washed over her face the moment she heard the name. 'Joshua?' Her voice didn't tremble. 'Are you staying in Central?'

'For a week,' Joshua replied. 'Then I'm going back home.'

'Josh!' Someone called from far off.

The boy departed, leaving Olivier tense and stiff. Miles moved towards her. 'Ma'am, what's wrong?'

'Roy. . .' she said. He frowned. '. . . He. . .' She looked at him, slightly wide eyed. 'Roy is adopted. His aunty took him in when his parents died in a car crash. He had a brother who had just been born called Joshua. He was with them when the accident happened, and if I'm not mistaken they had left Roy at home with the sitter. Roy was thirteen when his parents passed on.'

'Is the boy that baby?'

'I'm not sure. Roy remembers there was something weird about his brother's eyes. It didn't add up. He said his parents used to row loads after the baby's birth, but he can't remember what they argued about. It could be that his mother had an affair with their servant.'

Miles widened his eyes when it all came into place. 'Was his servant Ishvalan?'

'Possibly.'

'Why didn't Mister Mustang speak of him?'

Olivier shrugged. 'He doesn't like talking about him. He pretends he never existed because he died so young, and I think he probably holds a grudge against him for causing his parents to row so much.' She searched for where Joshua had gone, and spotted him with a middle-aged woman. She was clearly Armstong related. 'He doesn't live with his aunty. He's adopted.'

They watched the teenager whisper something into the woman's ear. She turned towards Miles and Olivier, before walking to them, Joshua following behind. 'I see you've been speaking to my son.' Her voice was not friendly.

'I have,' Olivier replied, casting her eyes to the sixteen-year-old.

The woman threw Miles a dirty look. 'The poor boy suffers from an unusual colour in his eyes.'

'I think he's half Ishvalan,' Olivier said. She had clearly stepped out of line when the woman fumed.

'He is not! Joshua is a full-blooded Amestrian. He isn't a disgusting creature like the one standing next to you. Why is it here anyway?'

Miles wasn't nerved by the woman's words. However his commander begged to differ. 'He. He also has a name. And Miles is here to give his respect. Ishvalan or not, he's more human than you or I. . . I mean, he's not the one lying to his adoptive child that he's a race he clearly isn't.'

The woman sighed. She wasn't the type to start an argument, and Miles had a hunch Olivier had silenced her. The adoptive mother was sensitive about her son knowing he wasn't a full-blooded Amestrian, but the Ishvalan gathered Joshua already knew. The teen watched Miles with faint interest.

'Are the rumours true?' That voice didn't belong to the woman. A man walked over to them, and he looked about their age. 'Apparently the only reason Jacob died was because someone wants to get to you. That'd explain the sudden death of your sister as well. What kind of deal is this?'

'Deal?' Olivier repeated cooly. 'I haven't made a deal with anyone.'

Several heads had turned their way. The man continued: 'I don't believe in coincidences. These deaths are planned; patterned. You were close to Jacob, right?'

'More or less.'

'Well, obviously something is up. Why won't you tell us? I really want to know, because I don't think I'll be keen on being the next death, and neither will my family.'

Olivier curled her lips. 'Don't worry. You won't be next in line. If you died, I honestly wouldn't care less.'

A few murmurs erupted from the crowd. 'Is this what it's all about?' Someone yelled. A young woman charged towards the commander, and it looked like she was going to hurt her. She stopped before her, glaring daggers. Tears leaked from her eyes. 'The only reason Jacob is dead is because of you? What the Hell? How does that add up?'

'Someone holds a grudge.'

The lady scoffed. 'Oh, is that it? Someone holds a grudge? How pathetic.'

Miles realised this was what Olivier had feared. His commander knew fingers would point straight at her, because, in a way, it was her fault. He felt incredibly sympathetic for her, but wasn't sure if she deserved this or not. She didn't. She had done more good than evil.

'I only came here to pay my respects, not to have an argument with someone I've never met before. As I clearly have nothing else to do here, I shall leave. Apologies for your loss.'

How his Queen hadn't shown a flicker of emotion when she walked away was a mystery.

Roy swore quietly. Whoever was knocking against his door was making a racket, and really pissing him off. He had just returned from work, only to be disturbed minutes later. Couldn't he be left alone for a few seconds? Mustang threw open the door. He widened his eyes when he saw the last two people in the world who'd visit him.

'I don't usually have more than one person in bed, but I'll be happy to try both worlds tonight.'

Olivier scoffed and pushed past him. Roy welcomed Miles in and closed the door. 'What's the problem, General Trigger Happy? I do not have any bodies you can beat in my home.'

'Stop pissing about, Mustang,' Olivier said. 'I've just returned from a funeral and met someone you might find of interest.'

'What's her name?'

'His, you dick. No, this is not a prostitute for you to pick up.'

Mustang recoiled. 'I wasn't exactly expecting a prostitute, you know.'

Olivier ignored him. 'Tell me about your mother. Didn't she have a relationship with an Ishvalan?'

'Wha. . .?' Roy frowned. All cheek vanished from his face. 'Um – she must have done. She gave birth to an Ishvalan kid, didn't she? Why? I don't want to talk about her or that boy.'

'He's not dead.'

Mustang fumed. 'What the Hell would you know? He died in a car crash with my parents. He was dead when they found him, okay? He couldn't have come back to life.'

Miles lowered his gaze, relating to Roy well. He felt this way when he finally met an Ishvalan after so many years, believing they were all gone. When Miles met Scar, he felt confused. It was weird to know his race still existed.

'–and even if he is alive, I don't want to see him!'

Olivier said nothing. She didn't understand how Roy wouldn't want to meet a brother he thought was lost. When Miles spoke, he made both of them jump.

'I understand how you feel, Mister Mustang. I felt objected to find out if my race were still alive. It feels better to not know, because there are less emotions for you to handle. Trust me, I've been in your position. Before I met Scar, I wanted to believe I was the last remaining Ishvalan in the world. It's a powerful feeling, but it's awful when you discover you're not alone. All along, someone precious to you has been alive and you never knew.'

Roy's face softened. Miles was correct about his feelings.

'Ignore what you feel right now. That's what I did. When I met Scar, I felt confused and slightly abandoned. However, after a while, you feel fine. Great, even. I. . . We won't force you to do anything, but we're giving you an option. You don't have to meet this boy. For all we know, he might not be your sibling. However you may feel better if you saw him, but it's entirely up to you.'

Mustang was still for several seconds. He met Miles' gaze. 'Is he in Central?'

'He's staying for a week, sir.'

'Do you know where?'

'No, sorry.'

'I can receive information though,' Olivier said. 'I wouldn't doubt my old man knows about him or his "aunty".'

'Aunty?' Mustang frowned.

'She's an Armstrong; his adoptive parent.'

Roy lowered his gaze, and Miles shamefully had to admit he had never seen Mustang think so hard. After a while, he had an answer: 'Yeah, let's go see this kid then.'

Mustang insisted they go to the Armstrong manor via car. The journey was considerably faster, and they were there in five minutes. Roy walked in confidently, familiar with the manor having stayed in it many a time. Olivier slung behind with Miles whilst the male General said to a butler he wished to see Philip Armstrong. He turned to them both.

'If this goes well, I – uh – suppose I should thank you.'

'Let's just make sure it goes well first,' Olivier replied.

'Right.'

Philip acknowledged his daughter for a second, but to Olivier's relief he spent more time speaking to General Mustang about the child called Joshua. After ten minutes, Philip had given them an address and they were on the desired doorstep minutes later. The house was considerably smaller, but it still looked grand. 'What is it with you Armstrongs and big houses?'

The door opened, and it was a maid.

Roy stated who he would like to speak to, and was invited inside. Miles stayed with Olivier, guessing she wasn't keen on meeting the woman again after what had happened at the funeral. They stood in silence for a while. He shuffled the snow with his foot, glancing at her every so often.

'Thanks.'

It took him a while to realise she had spoken to him. 'What for, miss?'

'Talking to Mustang. I wouldn't have been able to convince him.'

'. . . It's good of you wanting him to see a relative he thought he had lost.'

Olivier smiled a little. 'Mad, isn't it? I'm actually all right every so often.'

He gave her such a warm smile in return she looked away quickly, pulling her coat higher over her collar. He could have sworn he had spotted the tiniest blush appear.

The door opened and Roy stepped outside. He was smiling faintly, and seemed to be in his own little world when he met them. It took him a moment to speak.

'It's Josh; my brother. He survived,' he grinned at Olivier. 'Thanks.'

She shrugged. 'I suppose you would have done the same for me.'

Roy smirked and hugged her tightly. Olivier hoped the squeal hadn't come from her, but from his chuckle she realised it had. Damn. He finally let her go. 'I feel like I could scream to the world I've found my brother. Haha, it's nuts.'

'It is,' Olivier agreed. She exhaled. 'There's a limit of hugs one can take. Actually, in these past few days I've had more hugs than in a decade.'

'N'aaww, Livvy's learning about affection.' He pulled at her cheek. 'Somebody's gwowing up!'

Olivier snarled and viciously removed his hand. 'Do that again I'll break your face.' Her eyes met Miles, and he instantly stopped chuckling. However he didn't see anger in her eyes – he saw amusement.

'We'll need to feed Ritu. He's probably starving,' Miles explained whilst they proceeded to the car.

Roy cast him a look. 'Ritu? Who's that?'

'Miles' kitten,' Olivier replied bluntly.

Mustang beamed brightly. 'You must introduce me. Kittens are so cute.'

Olivier looked at both men and pulled a face. 'What is it with men and kittens? Jeez. . .'

Roy was kind enough to give the officers a lift back to their hotel. As soon as they entered, Olivier walked straight past the meowing kitten ignoring him. Miles smirked, wondering if she was avoiding the kitten because she did think he was cute. Ritu happily chomped away at his meal Miles served him. The Ishvalan noticed his General hadn't appeared for the past fifteen minutes.

He walked towards the open bathroom door and peered through. What he saw made him inhale sharply through jarred teeth. Olivier had removed her shirt from her shoulder, and was redressing a nasty looking injury. Teeth clenched, she hastily peeled off the remaining plaster, blood over her fingertips.

'Miss. . .' He was startled and didn't know what to do.

'It's all right,' she said, voice tense. 'This has happened before. My wounds reopen – Ah!' Olivier hissed from the sting.

Miles grabbed hold of the moist flannel she reached for, and willingly dabbed the blood away.

'Your help isn't necessary, Major.'

He knew she would be rough on herself so insisted he do it. She was silent whilst he removed the blood from her wound, and he gently placed a plaster over it once he was finished. His eyes were drawn to the amount of scars across her flesh, and, up close, some looked new.

'Oh fuck,' Olivier muttered. She stood up and he saw the problem. Another injury had clearly reopened at her side. Miles turned his gaze away when she pulled off her shirt. He gingerly looked her way and widened his eyes.

'When did that happen?' It looked like she had been stabbed a little.

'It doesn't matter,' she said, taking the flannel off him. 'It's not important.'

'That's important, ma'am,' he argued.

'I'm fine,' she replied sternly.

Miles watched her wipe away the blood. She was so rough on herself. He was surprised her body was still mobile. All of these cuts, stabs and grazes – it was amazing how she hadn't complained once about it. All the new recruits at Briggs who complained about their grazes when they had no idea what state their commander was in.

There was no excuse to crumple to your knees. Whether you were missing a limb or not, you continue fighting – Briggs' rule had hit her the hardest. She was Briggs.

He pushed away their profession; his fear.

Miles held her hand with the flannel against her wound and kissed her fractured skin. He heard her inhale a little in surprise, but she didn't push him away. He placed his lips against her neck, and a small moan escaped her mouth. Miles stopped, wondering if he had hurt her. 'Don't stop.' Their eyes met, and she was completely open to him. There was nothing barricading them.

'Do you want to–?' He didn't know how to ask. It was a stupid question really.

Olivier nodded lightly, leaned forward and kissed his lips. They broke apart, then carefully kissed again. He held her close, his lips against her face, hands gently holding her wounded back. She ran her hands under his shirt, pressing herself closer against him.

In seconds, he had frantically straddled her to the bed, their limbs tangled together, kissing her with such enthusiasm she began to laugh. Miles didn't understand what was so funny. He willingly allowed his top to be pulled off, barely giving a moment to breathe before claiming her lips again. It took him a moment to realise she was pushing him away.

'Wait – wouldn't this go against your religion or something?'

Miles blinked, looking down at her, puzzled. 'Are you making fun of me?'

'No.' She laughed.

He kissed her. 'Just be quiet.'

'You're so commanding, Hercule. I like that in a man.'

Miles was a tad taken aback when she used his name. Before he could recover, Olivier grabbed him by the collar and closed the gap between them.

'Are you sure about this?'

'Well, I'm sure he wouldn't mind making a deal, sir,' Riza replied, confident as she walked towards the cell where her desired man was contained.

Roy was growing tired of being dragged outside so much, but he wasn't bothered with Riza's company. He was intending to tell her about his brother soon. They entered the cell, and Johnny awoke with a start. A sigh escaped his lips. 'Oh. More questions?'

'No,' Riza said politely. 'We want to make a deal with you.'

'She does,' Roy corrected.

'Is there anything we can do that'll satisfy your vengeful needs?' Her commander snorted, mistaking her for taking the piss out of the man. Johnny, however, smiled.

'Yeah.'

'Great. But before we go further with this, you have to stop these killings.'

'I can do that. I started it all.'

Riza smiled, hating him. 'What do you want?'

'I want to speak to that Ishvalan she always hangs around with.'

'Miles?' Roy suggested.

'Yeah, whatever. I want to talk to him.'

Riza didn't like the smile he was wearing. She cast Roy an uneasy glance, but the Flame Alchemist didn't see the problem. He nodded. 'Sure. We'll bring him over tomorrow.'

They walked back to the car in silence. Hawkeye was more fidgety than usual, clearly not keen on Miles speaking with Johnny. Roy didn't understand the problem. What could Johnny do to him? Some small talk mustn't be too harmful.

To snatch her away from the situation, he spoke about how Olivier and Miles had found his brother and led Roy to him. Riza was startled to hear her commander actually had a sibling. 'Why do you not tell me these things, sir?'

He smiled warmly. 'Well, because I know you. If I told you about him, you would have gone on some wild goose chase.'

'Yeah, but I would've found him, considering he's alive.'

'I never wanted to meet him if he was alive, Hawkeye.'

Riza stopped and turned to him. 'You really owe it to Major Miles and General Armstrong. That was good of them.'

'Yeah. They make a good team,' Roy said. 'Quite like us. . .' He grinned. 'Come on, let me buy you a drink.'

'So you can sleep with me, sir?' She asked, raising an eyebrow.

'. . . Problem with that?'

Hawkeye punched him playfully. She grinned. 'You know, all you have to do is ask me out, sir.'

'Oh. . . Will you go out with me, Riza?'

'Not anymore, shit dick,' and with that, his subordinate walked away, a smirk over her face.

author's note: Riza! How OOC of you!
There shall be more on Joshua, but I think I want to write a separate fiction with a similar idea on Roy's lost sibling. Cliché, but I like the idea. I shall try and write it now actually =D Thank you for reading. I'm not good with love scenes, so hope Miles and Olivier's moment goes past the "acceptable" line.