Sorry for the longer update! To make a long story short, university has started and I was without internet for about a week. The upside, however, is that I wasn't distracted by said internet so I got a fair bit of writing done! I hope you enjoy this next instalment and my apologies for the following confusion if you're not a fan of Hamilton, but I didn't want to miss this golden opportunity. You have all been asking, after all.

Ladies and gentlemen!
Here comes the general!
The moment you've been waiting for!
Here comes the general!
The pride of East City!
Here comes the general!
Roy Mustang!


Rebecca is certain that if Riza were here right now she would have slapped her over the head already, indignant and angry at how she is acting. But Riza's not here. She's in a morgue somewhere, pale with sunken cheeks, being poked and prodded and cut open in the search for the reason why her heart suddenly decided to stop in the night. It does not matter what they find, natural causes or not. None of it will bring her back.

And this is why Rebecca's having an argument with the General about who Black Hayate is going to live with from now on.

"I AM PRACTICALLY HER SISTER!" Rebecca screams, clenching her fists to her side and trying to ignore the tears spilling onto her face. "YOU WERE HER SUPERIOR! WHY SHOULD YOU GET TO DECIDE WHAT HAPPENS TO HER LIFE?"

"YOU KNOW DAMN WELL WHAT SHE MEANS TO ME!" he bellows back, but Rebecca is tired and hurting.

"Go on then," she all but hisses. "Say it. You won't get into trouble now, will you?" It's a low blow – a very low blow and she regrets her words as quickly as they are spat out. Mustang looks at her like she just proclaimed herself the murderer – and immediately her shoulders slump and she collapses in front of him, bawling her eyes out and nearly screaming with how empty she feels inside.

This wasn't how it was meant to happen.

She doesn't quite understand why Mustang decided to come back to work – the day before her best friend's funeral – the day before his – whatever they were, and his appearance only serving to fuel the rumours which have been swirling around her like a hurricane. This entire week has been hushed whispers and averted glances as people gossip about her.

Her crying is ugly and it feels like her throat will split in two. Every part of her is aching and hollow and Rebecca isn't sure how much more she can take. Madame had been good to her following that awful phone call but it stings to realise that there aren't many people she can rely on for support in this moment – not when they're all grieving, not when each of them deserves to be a little selfish.

Rebecca thinks she might feel marginally better if she was hit by a train than deal with the General right now – he has sat down on the ground next to her, gripping her hand tightly, nails digging in harshly against her skin. She realises that she ought to feel the pain, but she feels distant and withdrawn. Her head feels like it has been stuffed with cotton wool and every inhalation makes it harder for her to breathe. Her chest is tightening in a bad way and her hands are trembling when Mustang suddenly pulls her into a crushing hug.

"Breathe, Catalina," he chokes out, his free hand roughly combing through her hair. There's a moment where she feels that she cannot breathe at all – she feels light-headed and detached and only vaguely aware of the pain spreading out from her lungs and pooling in her fingers, but then it passes and all of a sudden she's gasping and shaking and Mustang is the only thing that she can concentrate on.

He's warm and soft as she buries her head into his shoulder and tries to count between her inhalations and exhalations. She doesn't know how long they sit there, awkwardly tangled in each other's limbs as she cries and wails into his uniform. All she can focus on is how little she can actually feel right now.

Mustang's fingers in her hair keep her grounded as she feels a scream tear its way out of her throat.