So on Saturday I got fabric for my Mei Chang cosplay! 8D HAPPY. Then I lost my memorystick. (Yes, yes, I know, but I've had it since September, and this was the first time, so shussshhhhh!)

Therefore, with the added fact that I was still recuperating from two days of being absent, and I had a busy weekend full of fabric shopping, I HAVE AN EXCUSE to why this is so late.

High School is coming! I PROMISE! I hate myself for being this terrible about updating it… *crouches in Tamaki-corner*

"Ed…" Winry muttered, looking sideways at the blonde teenager with tired eyes, "When is the train coming?"

"Fifteen minutes ago," he grimaced, glaring at the tracks like they were made of acid.

"Brother, do you think Granny will be okay?" Al asked Ed, sitting on his suitcase gloomily, his head in his hands.

"She'll be fine, Al. She'll be fine, but I can't say the same about the lieutenant," Ed muttered, patting his brother's back. Winry glanced at the brothers. Both of them had identical expressions on their faces, though Ed was trying to cover his- to a stranger, he would appear strong, but to Winry, Ed only looked scared. She took Ed's left hand in her right, her left in Al's right, and gave both of them a reassuring smile.

"Miss Riza's going to be fine," she whispered, squeezing their fingers until she cut off the circulation. Al winced, but Ed appeared not to notice and squeezed back. They watched the train pull up to the station, and it was only when they were halfway to East when Winry loosened the strangle hold on their hands, -and when she finally did in fear of the boys being embarrassed by her constant need of comfort, Ed and Al only squeezed tighter.

~*Break*~

Pinako Rockbell sat on the porch, slowly rocking back and forth in the old, creaky rocking chair carved by her son- nearly thirty years ago, now- and puffing on her pipe. There was an eerie sense of peace in Resembool today, as if the world had decided to take the day off and stay locked up in the little corner that it retreated to on such occasions. The only sounds were the gentle whistle of the wind and the rasp of the rocking chair.

She felt especially small today of all days, when again there was a person younger than herself dying. Pinako had never been especially fond of Riza Hawkeye, but she had pity for the woman. A few minutes with Riza Hawkeye had changed her granddaughter- the woman could move you deeply. Reserved and quiet, scarred but repentant for past mistakes, she was an individual that you would remember for all your days. Pinako had barely exchanged a greeting with her, and even in her advanced years she felt young and naïve next to the veteran of Ishval.

Urey and Sara came to mind next. Pinako loved her son still, years after his death- Sara as well, both of them gentle and caring, with a love of people and medicine. It was a pity they had died so young. Perhaps if they had survived to return they could have saved Trisha Elric.

Maybe if they had lived, they could save Riza Hawkeye right now. Sara and Urey would be with their daughter, on a train, headed to East to save a woman they barely knew for their daughter. They would have saved anyone's life to see their daughter smile, even a veteran of Ishval.

~*Break*~

The end of the work day was a relief to everyone in the office. There had been a constant tapping in HQ all day, and it had been courtesy of Roy Mustang's pen.

"Colonel. Go." Havoc muttered, twitching. Mustang looked up from his paperwork (despite his bold words and his attempt to concentrate, the team doubted that he had gotten through one sheet, considering that his stack was still as thick as when Fuery had timidly sat it down that morning) to see twilight just beginning to set in. He was out of the office before Breda had a chance to finish biting his sandwich.

"I'm calling Gracia now. She needs to know," Fuery declared, also rising. Falman, Havoc and Breda nodded. "Falman, what's her number?"

"I believe it is 425-736-9645, Sergeant Major." Falman stated. Fuery began to head towards the door. Halfway there he turned and looked back at Falman.

"Will you go dial it? I can't remember that."

~*Break*~

"Oh, Roy," Chris Mustang muttered upon discovering her foster son collapsed, his forehead pressed against the smooth counter of the bar. "What am I going to do with you?"

In response, her nephew grunted and buried his face deeper into his arms. Chris puffed out a breath, sending smoke in to mix with the already murky air. Lowering her eye level to the middle of his inky black head of hair, she again puffed on her cigarette. "You know, Roy-boy, drinking isn't good for you."

He raised his head just enough to stare at her with blank eyes, nursing the glass of alcohol as if it was his only comfort in the world. "Yes, Madame, but I am being a sociable man like I always am and visiting my lovely foster mother and many sisters," he muttered sarcastically, raising the auburn liquid to his lips.

"Sociable my ass, Roy Mustang," Chris countered, plucking the glass out of his clumsy fingers. "You never visit. Why the hell are you bothering to drown yourself in booze?"

"What, so I need a reason to visit you? I can't just pop in and say hello, having a small drink as I do?"

"Usually, yes. Roy, you're scaring the customers. How many have you had?" she demanded quietly, holding the glass just out of his lethargic grasp.

"On-t-a few, I guess," he shrugged, propping himself up with his elbows so he could make eye contact with his strict aunt.

"And the purpose you have for all this alcohol? Last time you got drunk was when Elizabeth got so scared. Would you care to enlighten an old spinster on your current situation?" he sighed heavily, focusing on the counter.

"She's sick. Elizabeth's sick, and she's not getting better," he muttered, raising his hand to smother lips to keep her silent before continuing. "She's not letting me help, either. I'm…I'm scared for her, Chris. I feel almost like I'm stuck in a downpour and she's not there to open an umbrella or hand me a pair of dry gloves. I can't help her, Chris. She's trying to be strong and I can't snap her out of it."

Chris grabbed her foster son and forced him to look her in the eyes. "You think that she wants to be strong, Roy? With Riza, you're going to have to physically take her up in her arms and comfort her, because otherwise she's going to write off your words as nothings. Just do it, Roy." His eyes lit up, losing their sleepy kind of indifference that they held when they were drinking his worries away. "Come on, let's get that alcohol out of your clothes. She isn't going to appreciate that."

~*Break*~

Roy arrived at the hospital in record time, bursting through the double doors a mere five minutes after he had put down his glass. A passing child, unfortunate enough to be a few feet from the entrance and quickly reduced to a crying wreck in her mother's arms, earning a glare from the woman sitting with the little girl in her arms. Obviously his speed was not admired by some. The alcohol had not helped his judgment, but having his head plunged in a bucket of ice water had certainly startled him out of his lethargic state.

"Sorry," he muttered, running a hand through his hair. The mother ignored him and turned back to her small child.

"It's all right Theresa, Mommy's got you, the man will be gone soon, okay?" she crooned, stroking the messy brown hair. Theresa sniffled and peeked one dark eye out of her mother's soothing embrace. Soon the other one followed. Under the child's watchful gaze, Roy collapsed into one of the chairs, rubbing his temples.

"Mister, it's not that bad," she said a minute later, cautiously approaching Roy. "You scared me, that's all." Roy looked at the little girl a foot away from his knee. He gave her an apologetic smile.

"Oh, don't worry. I've got a lot on my mind, that's all. I'm sorry for scaring you."

"Why're you here, Mister?" she asked, watching him with her large, almost black eyes. Her mother, five feet further away, shook her head and scooped up her daughter quickly.

"I'm sorry, Colonel. My daughter hasn't learned that curiosity kills the cat." She said sharply, trying to minimize conversation with the military man.

"No, it's alright. I really actually need to get my mind off of everything." The woman furrowed her brow, ruining her wrinkle-free complexion. It was obvious now to Roy that she was one of the people that was still wary of the military and its motives, and wasn't sure what to do with a dog like him.

"You can tell me things, Mister! I'm a good listener!" Theresa cried, her voice muffled by her mother's blouse. Roy smiled and stood up.

"I bet you are," he replied. Theresa poked her head out and grinned, the tear streaks still evident on her face but long forgotten by their bearer.

"That's what my Poppa says!" She declared, puffing out her chest proudly. "But you never answered my question!"

"Which one?" He teased, his mind temporarily relieved of the weight in his stomach by the happy little girl.

"Why're you here, mister?" She asked brightly. Roy felt the pit drop itself back into his gut, and his fingers again ran through his dark hair.

"Theresa, that's a very personal question. You have no right to ask it." Her mother lectured her.

"No, it's okay. I'm here because my best friend is very sick, and I'm visiting her." The mother turned her head up to look Roy in the eyes and smiled a bit, one corner of her mouth twitching up.

"Best friend?" She asked.

"Well, we aren't really allowed to be more than that," he admitted, now scratching the back of his neck. Theresa's mother chuckled.

"You're different than the rest of them," she murmured, letting her daughter down from the protective circle of her arms.

"The military is different than it was a few months ago. I promise there won't be any more revolutions in the near future. Our new Fuhrer used to be my commanding officer. He'll lead the country right, I know it."

"That's what we thought about Fuhrer Bradley too. I still don't trust the military."

"You have a full right to," he acknowledged. "But I hope that as time passes, you'll put more faith in it."

"Both of my brothers were killed in Ishval, Colonel. It will be a long time before I trust the military again. It was nice to meet you. I'm glad that at least you are not as much of a monster as people make you out to be."

Roy watched as Theresa ran up to a boy with a crutch and a cast on his left leg and eyes identical to hers. Her mother joined Theresa and gave each child a kiss on the forehead. At least somebody gets a happy ending in this hospital. He thought, contemplating the young mother's words.

~*Break*~

There was still ice in her voice as she spoke to Roy. "I thought I told you not to visit, Colonel Mustang."

"I'm not going to stop, Hawkeye, so get used to it," he retorted gruffly, trying to mask his relief at seeing Riza alive and calm, her body not raked by pain and suffering breaths. "How are you?"

"I'm fine, Colonel. You don't need to trouble yourself with my illness," she said curtly, raising her chin up and shaking her hair out of her face.

He grunted in response, shooting a glare at the blonde lieutenant in the hospital bed. "Hawkeye, if you're going to be such a bitch, then I'll stop caring." They were downright lies, meant to startle her out of the stiff, formal shell she had retreated to, but they did nothing but make her jerk her chin higher in the air and make her utter a tiny hmph.

"Well, Colonel, why don't you? You obviously don't care about me, sir, so why waste your time here?" Too far. He had gone too far. There was no way that the ice in her eyes would melt now. He resisted the overwhelming urge to bang his head against the nearest wall in punishment for his stupidity.

"I'm not going to do that, Hawkeye," he muttered, meeting her icy glare. "You matter to me, and I'm going to be right here, no matter what."

She bit her bottom lip, auburn eyes flashing first with relief, then with contempt. "I'm not a baby, sir," she spat, turning away from him yet again. "I can take care of myself."

"Hawkeye, STOP IT!" he yelled, forcing her eyes to meet his gaze before continuing in a low, dangerous tone. "If you want to give up like this and be abandoned by everyone who cares, then FINE, but you've watched my back too long for me to abandon you! I don't care what's wrong with you, but I'm NOT going to leave you!"

"There's no need to care about me, you IDIOT! I'll be fine, so there's no need to concern yourself with this. You have goals, Colonel. I'm an obstacle."

Roy clenched his teeth, trying to refrain from ripping his hair out in frustration. "You will never be an obstacle," he muttered quietly, his voice incapable of anything louder than a whisper. Why did she think so lowly of herself? Wasn't it damn obvious that he needed her like he needed oxygen? Why didn't she just accept that? He wrung his hands, staring at the scarred palms with onyx eyes.

Glancing up, he saw a look of utter shock on her face. Really she looked closer to tears than anything else- the cold was gone, as was the anger. "Never," he repeated, looking into her eyes this time. Remembering his foster mother's words-just do it-he embraced her, hugging his lieutenant tightly. He felt her shudder as the tension in her body relaxed and she finally came out of the broken shell, soaking his shirt with tears. Roy didn't mind. The tears were proof that she was still Riza, and that was plenty to give him a ray of hope for the future.

2,380 *cough* So there you go. Sunarose is still the beta fairy. REMEMBER THAT. Good. Now go read Seven Months.