The general and her adjutant made their way to the infirmary as swiftly as possible.

Olivier sent the doors swinging open as they stepped inside, Miles matching her stride. The first thing their eyes fell upon was a bloodied and trembling Captain Ivanov. A loyal soldier- he would've saluted upon their entry; if he was capable of seeing them.

He flinched when he heard the doors burst open, though he was in too much pain to move his head to look over. Bandages were tightly wrapped around his left eye-the side facing the doorway- and a deep, sticky red was angrily staining the white bandages. He shook, not from the cold of Briggs, but from the shock he was in. He held his right arm and was hesitating allowing a nurse to re-set his dislocated shoulder. "Oh, General!" The head doctor piped up from the other side of the room as she prepared what seemed to be a syringe of lidocaine. "Am I glad to see you right now."

"I could say the same," Olivier replied, her tone cautious as she eyed her soldier as he emitted painful whines. She made her way over to him, despite Miles laying a hand on her shoulder to try and prevent her from doing so. Olivier knew this wasn't the time for a million questions, but she figured she could at least get the gist of what happened to the captain.

"Ivanov," she commanded, though her tone was quieter than usual. She couldn't imagine how much pain he was in. Despite having fought a homunculus several months prior, the general had always had a high tolerance for pain. "What happened to you?"

His lower jaw trembled as he struggled to formulate the thoughts in his head that would eventually form words. "Attacked," he sputtered. "They found out."

"About you?" She pressed, but he ground his teeth and gasped sharply as the nurse forcefully shifted his shoulder. "Captain, I need to know."

"General?" the lead doctor quietly caught her attention as she made her way over, tapping on the syringe to get the bubble to raise. "Forgive me, but could you come talk to him later? His health is rather dire right now," she lifted her face mask from her chin. "We need to fix that eye or he'll bleed out."

Olivier, her judgement momentarily clouded by her clamoring for information, blinked and quickly nodded. She turned, grabbed her adjutant's wrist, and promptly left the infirmary.

Her office was silent, save for the incessant tapping of her boot. She was alone- Miles had to go on a patrol- and she was having to impatiently wait for word from the infirmary. She didn't want it to seem as if she didn't care for the wellbeing of her troops (there had been many, many times, especially in recent memory, where she had proven her loyalty to her men), she just knew that whatever message Ivanov held was to be vital to the survival and success of her fort; possibly even all of Amestris. There was no way of telling how advanced Drachman military technology had become, or how many soldiers it had at its immediate disposal- not to mention the countless prisoners in gulags who would surely be forced to fight if total war to arise. She needed to know everything as soon as humanly possible if she were to formulate an effective attack or defense strategy for Briggs to take.

Her phone rang, and Olivier did not waste a single moment to answer it- "Armstrong."

"Hello General," the doctor's voice hummed from the other side of the line. "Ivanov is stable, conscious, and ready to speak to you, if you're free."

"Absolutely, I'll be down in a moment," the general replied. She simultaneously hung up the line and stood from her seat, retrieving her coat from the back of her chair. The time was right for Miles to be finishing his patrol; she would catch him and bring him with her on her way to the infirmary. Being both her personal assistant and right-hand leader of the fort, it was crucial for him to be present as well.

They entered the infirmary, much calmer than before. Ivanov was propped up in his bed, the whole left side of his face bandaged. His shoulder was in a sling, and many bandages were visible on his bare arms- he had been transferred to the standard hospital gown, so Olivier was sure there were more injuries that had been tended to that were covered. Her eyes fell upon a blue and red mass on a nearby table- his uniform had been neatly folded, though the care seemed futile. There was no saving the clothing; even from afar, the woman could see how torn and stained it was. Bloodstains nearly rendered the blue a dark and gloomy red. His pistol as neatly laid next to it, though it was clearly destroyed in places as well.

Olivier and Miles made their way to the bed, both of them simultaneously noticing that Ivanov was watching Karelia in the bed-made-crib beside him. Olivier cleared her throat, and the captain slowly turned his entire head to her; unable to see her in his periphery.

"I apologize for not being able to salute, sir," he spoke, his voice quiet and with not a spark of hope.

"I'm not concerned with protocol with you in such a situation, Captain," Olivier replied, her own tone reflecting his volume (or lack thereof), yet retaining her signature sternness. "The most important thing for you right now is to rest and get well again."

Ivanov smiled as much as he could, his face still painful from the procedure he underwent. "Pull up a seat, please. I'll tell you everything."

Olivier sat in the seat that was already beside the bed; Miles retrieving the nearest one and dragging it to sit beside his superior. The woman leaned forward, prepared to listen, "What happened to your eye?"

"Grenade," Ivanov murmured, his gaze lowering to the sheets that wrapped around him. "Doc said it was a globe rupture due to the shrapnel that got to me."

The doctor nodded to them from across the room as she leaned into the crib to check on the Drachman, "We'll have to perform enucleation on the affected eye, there's no way it'll heal. We'll schedule the surgery and have it taken out once the captain here has had some time to rest and heal from his other injuries."

"I see," Olivier sighed, looking from the doctor to the captain. "Don't worry about disability discharges, we'll discuss all of that when you're on your feet again."

"Thank you," Ivanov replied. "I don't know how, and I doubt I ever will, but the military police found out about me. I was at the public townhouse in Neryuyev when they broke my door down. I jumped out of the window and caught my arm on a pipe; it got wrenched out of the socket, but I kept running. They chased me to the next town, where they lost me and I was able to stay for the night. I didn't even get to hide out for a full twenty-four hours before they found me again. And," he grunted, shifting painfully in his seat slightly. "Of course, they had called in reinforcements and even dogs this time."

"It's okay, take a rest," Miles politely interrupted him, noticing his distress. "We can wait."

Ivanov nodded and waited for a moment. Doc was usually very on top of giving soldiers confined to the infirmary pain medicine when needed, and due to her lack of interference, Olivier noted that he probably had taken as much as he could at the given time.

After a beat, he picked back up where he had left off- "The dogs found me and I had to make another break for it. I tried shooting at the police," He paused. "'Cause, you know. I wasn't gonna shoot the dog."

Olivier nodded understandingly, earning a glance from Miles.

"And one of the bastards shoots the gun out of my hand. So now I have no weapon. I kept running and trying to hide, but they eventually got fed up and just lobbed a grenade a me," He sighed softly. "I was far enough away that nothing actually got blown off of me, but I turned around to look at them at just the wrong moment, I guess. I ended up getting away for a short moment, went into a bar, and stole the barkeeper's keys right from his pocket. I mean, if he was gonna pull a gun on me, I've seen worse just in the last day alone, right? I ran outside when he called the police and got away in his car, though it was a little slow from the snow."

"I'm sorry this happened to you," the major responded. "Can we get you anything? Has your family been called yet?"

"Yes, but, Major Miles? I have more of the story."

Miles's eyebrows raised curiously. "I had been quiet for a while," Ivanov glanced back over at the Drachman, who was now being held and fed by the doctor. "I may have found at least a temporary solution to our problem. I dug around a little and found out that some of the relatives of the old regime's Czarina live in a small town near Chernotsk. They've gone into hiding due to the coup, but…"

"They could act as regent to Karelia," Olivier breathed. "I'm sure there's still people who support the old regime, right, Captain?"

Ivanov nodded, "Most people seemed to be against the coup, actually. Obviously no one's going to do anything about the overthrow since the rebels are extremely well-equipped, but despite many people disliking the actions the Czar took during the Briggs raid, they were rather well-liked among civilians for the most part. From what I can gather, at least."

"It'd be a way of wiping the slate clean," Miles added. "If we can do something about reinstating Karelia as the future Czarina, we could even restore Amestrian-Drachman relations."

Olivier was already rubbing her temples, however. Her adjutant gave her a concerned "General…?"

"Central's going to absolutely fucking hate this," she groaned. "But this whole ordeal is vital to both Amestris and Drachma. I love a good fight to get the blood pumping, but I'd take a healthy relationship between our two countries over all-out warfare any day of the week."

Miles nodded, trying to lighten the mood, "May put us out of a job defending the border, General."

She gave a short, cynical snort of laughter as she stood, "Was there anything else, Captain?" After receiving a shake of the head, she nodded in reply; "We'll let you rest for now, but please send up all of the information you have on these relatives' whereabouts as soon as possible. I need to start a writeup for a meeting at Headquarters."

"Yes, sir," Ivanov replied. "I'm at your disposal. Until I'm officially discharged, I mean."

"I told you not to worry about any of that right now," the woman turned, signaling for her adjutant to stand. "Just rest and get your strength up again. That's an order."

Ivanov nodded as Miles turned, mirroring their commander. Together, they headed for the door. "Please keep me updated, Doc," Olivier called back to the other woman.

"As always, chief."

"This is such a mess," Olivier grumbled, half to herself, as they walked.

"Would you prefer me write to Central, sir?" the Ishvalan offered, his steps matching hers. She shook her head, causing Miles's eyebrows to furrow. "General, you've been under a lot of stress recently. Please let me help."

"Just you being here is enough help," Olivier said, her tone harsh and serious as usual. Her words, however, completely juxtaposed her stoicism.

"You've got enough on your plate, if I may say," Miles continued as they stepped into her office.

"No."

"General," Miles noticed his voice raise, somewhat. His change in tune caused Olivier to look back at him, curious.

"You've been like this ever since Buccaneer died. I mean, you were a workaholic before, but now it seems as if you're keeping all of the dangerous, difficult work to yourself. It's my job and my pleasure to assist you." He suddenly realized how different he sounded than his normal self when Olivier's blue eyes widened ever so slightly, blinking up at him in silence.

The air remained tense for a moment before Olivier expertly diffused it, breaking eye contact and lowering her own reply, "I regret not treating him more like a friend. I don't want the same to happen to you. I don't want to regret anything else."

Miles was taken aback by this sudden vulnerability. "General-"

"I already lost one of my right-hands, and I don't want to do it again, okay?" She spat, suddenly defensive. "I don't know what the hell I'd do if something happened to you, of all people, under my watch."

A long silence drew out between them, Olivier not looking up at him and instead choosing to stare at the floor as Miles watched her closely, trying to decipher any twitch of her eyes or change in her breathing to determine whatever strong emotions she was feeling.

The man took a slow, deep breath before answering her. "I am your adjutant and personal assistant, Major General Armstrong. Frankly, in comparison to other soldiers in my career, I am rather underworked. I want to help you in any way that I can, and I want you to preserve your mental health. You'll work yourself into a hole if you continue at this rate. If this situation is stressful for me, I can't even begin to comprehend what it must be like for you- and I want to help alleviate even a little of that burden, if you'll let me."

The blonde slowly looked up at him again, her expression blank but her eyes surprisingly gentle as she considered his words.

"Alright," she replied after a moment, as if she had to muster up her typical flat tone of voice again. She sighed, heading back for her door. "Could you write up that meeting proposal?"

"Anything for you, sir," Miles replied, making his way towards her desk and promptly sitting down.

"I'm gonna go take the hottest, longest bath in the world," she huffed, opening the door. "Please include everything Ivanov told us, and don't leave anything out about Karelia. I haven't gotten around to telling them yet," she added, flatly and unenthusiastically, "Whoops."

Miles nodded, lifting a sheet of paper and pen, "I'll make a write-up and have it radioed in to Central so they get it as soon as possible, sir."

"Perfect," Olivier exasperated, obviously just tired and not actually being short with him any longer. She left the room, but swiftly returned, poking her head through the door. "Also, Major? Don't bother adding the materials you ordered for Karelia to the fort budget report. I meant to tell you earlier, but I suppose it doesn't really matter since you haven't sent it off yet for this month." Miles glanced up at her, cocking his head questioningly. "I'll just pay for it out-of-pocket. I don't mind."

Without another word, she left, Miles smiling slightly to himself. Looks like the little Drachman could melt even the coldest and frozen-over of hearts after all.