The steps of Central Command were crowded with journalists. Riza hadn't questioned why Roy had offered to drive her to work the next morning, but when he parked, he wished her good luck, and she suddenly realized why she'd be needing it.

Reporters had formed tight ranks on the steps, and they'd spent the morning thus far swarming over anyone who looked even remotely like they might be interesting or rank above a Sergeant. Riza fit both categories with ease, and as she approached the crowd with disinterest, a buzz started.

"Is that-?"

"It is!"

"Miss Hawkeye!" A voice shouted, before the half dozen or so others followed it. Riza turned to look behind her, Roy's car still idling in the street. So he was watching her enter Central. She could take care of herself, but...

But even Riza was perturbed by her personal space being invaded. Hands and notepads were shoved before her face, and Riza stared them all down stoically, ignoring every cry of "Miss Hawkeye, would you care to comment?" tossed her way.

"-Captain Hawkeye!" A familiar voice shouted over the crowd. Riza looked up, spotting Harrington in the throng of people. She didn't smile, but her eyes lit up at the purposeful use of her new title. Harrington did have a few things going for him. She nodded over at him, and he pushed forwards, pressing a copy of the Tribune into her hands. Reporters jostled them both, but Riza stood firm, and read the headline - HIS FIANCEE AT HIS SIDE, ROY MUSTANG GUNS FOR THE PRESIDENCY.

Riza's lips quirked at the corners of her mouth. It was clever, but got to the point, and, as her gaze dropped below the large black serif text, she saw a picture of the two of them, standing side by side. It took her a moment to register where the picture was from: neither of them were in uniform, but she stood smiling warmly at his side as he gave the camera a personable grin. It had been Elysia's last birthday, and she'd worn a modest blouse and fitted skirt, while Roy had worn a day suit. It was a casual picture, but out of context, she supposed they looked very much like the couple they had purported to be.

She looked up, brows registering slight, questioning surprise. Harrington shrugged, as if to insinuate that of course he had his sources for such things. And knowing that he was in the Madame's network, he most certainly did. She folded the newspaper, and tucked it under her arm with a quiet note of thanks before she stepped to move forwards again up the steps.

The voices picked back up as she moved.

"Miss Hawkeye, how do you feel about marrying a man who's been known as a charmer?"

"-Miss Hawkeye, how long have you been in love with your superior officer?"

"Miss Hawkeye, is Roy Mustang marrying you in order to curry favor?"

Riza hesitated on the fifth step boots remaining on the edge of the next step. Her eyes narrowed, and she felt a heat creep up her neck, jaw clenching as she held back an iced retort; instead reminding herself that this was something they were doing in part for political reasons. But she also knew it wasn't just that; that their marriage wasn't just going to be some game they were playing. Riza looked over her shoulder at the young, twenty-something man who'd called out the last question, his auburn hair and freckles hidden by spectacles making him hard to miss. She met him with a level stare. "No." Riza said firmly. "He's marrying me because he loves me."

The young man before her stuttered to say something else, but another voice cut over the din, loud and clear. "Captain Hawkeye! Good Morning," the voice said, and Riza looked up, locating the source of the voice.

She straightened, hand moving upwards into a proper salute as the older man made his way down the steps to her. Sunlight bounced off his greying blonde hair, and deeply set dark blue eyes. "General Rigel, Sir." she greeted, feet snapping together.

"At ease, Captain." Rigel said, waving a hand. "I've come in to report from the West today. Come to find out that Central Command is flooded with reporters..."

"Indeed, Sir; the Fuhrer's retirement and his request for the upcoming elections seems to be quite newsworthy." Riza said, stepping towards the Western General as she pushed through the crowd.

"General Rigel, would you care to comment on Roy Mustang's latest announcement-?" A mousy woman demanded, notepad in hand. Rigel tilted his head towards Riza with a generous smile. "Yes," He said, eyes flicking to her briefly, something unreadable crossing them. "Congratulations are in order, Captain. For your promotion, and your engagement, I believe."

"Thank you, Sir." she said, eyebrows raising, but expression firmly in place. It was kind of him to congratulate her, but she would have rather avoided continuing to speak to the press.

"Out of my way!" A female voice snapped, blonde hair swinging behind her. General Armstrong glared icily at the crowd at she moved down the front steps, "Some of us have work to be accomplishing in running this country right now," She seethed. Olivier placed her hand on the pommel of her sword suggestively, letting sunlight bounce off of the hilt as she made her way towards Riza and Rigel.

"Ah, Olivier," Rigel greeted, nodding his head. Riza recognized the look of distaste on his face, a look shared by many others in the Senior Staff who frequently had to deal with Armstrong's forthright and unforgiving personality.

"Nicholas." She said flatly, lips pursing in equal disapproval. "If you're not keeping the Captain, I need her."

"By all means," Rigel said, as Riza saluted Olivier. "-I was just commenting on the downpour of the Amestrian Press today..."

"Fascinating. Truly." Olivier said dryly, tossing her head and narrowly scrutinizing Hawkeye. Riza said nothing, but dropped her hand to her side. "Follow me, Captain."

"Yes, Sir. Good day, General Rigel, sir." Riza replied, following Olivier as she turned on her heel and strode back up the stairs, a twinkle of light hitting her hair.

"Damned press." the female General grumbled, pulling her Black Briggs issue coat around her neck. The reporters fell back, uncertain - or perhaps unwilling - to follow after the famed Armstrong.

The rest of the walk into Central Command went undisturbed, and Riza heard the soft noise of a car pulling away from the front parkways. Roy had waited until Olivier showed, and Riza had reached the front doors to leave. She filed the information away for later, and kept pace with the General, footsteps falling into rhythm as she led the way into the halls of Central Command silently.

Olivier only paused to mutter that, "I don't like Rigel."

But then as Riza well knew, Olivier didn't like many people. She herself knew the man very little, having only met him after he jumped ranks after the Promised Day, and seen him on the few occasions both he and Roy had been present in Central for Senior Staff meetings.

Armstrong maintained her silence after that.

Riza knew better than to ask any questions, but she felt them coming to mind anyways - curious to know what Olivier was 'borrowing' her for, and even more curious to find out what Olivier was doing in Central.

When Olivier finally spoke up, her voice filled the halls as she made for her Central Office. "Grumman didn't just tell your pathetic Fiance, if you were wondering." she said, opening her office door. Olivier walked in, and sat behind her desk, propping her feet onto its polished mahogany surface.

She waved at Riza to close the door behind her.

"The Fuhrer seemed to believe I might also lower myself to fighting with the other brainless politicians and Presidential hopefuls in this Country." Olivier steepled her fingers beneath her chin, and glared. "Have a seat, Captain." She offered, taking out a flask from her top drawer, as well as two cups.

"Sir." Riza replied instinctively.

"Tea." Olivier stated. "Better than that coffee you and Mustang drink." Olivier poured Riza a cup, and continued as Riza seated herself in front of the General silently.

"As enthralling as running for President sounds, I'm not interested. I clawed my way to the top of the Military, and you'd have to pry that from my cold dead hands." She handed Riza her cup. "But Mustang's serious about running. He, quite frankly, has no choice. And he finally managed to get the balls to propose to you." she mused, staring down at her earl grey.

"It wouldn't have been appropriate for him to have done so sooner." Riza said, humor lighting her eyes.

"Tch." Olivier snorted. "My point is, that selfish, egotistical bastard didn't bother to mention his political aspirations to me. And whether or not you're marrying him, he's still an idiot." She ranted, downing her tea in one harsh swallow. Riza wondered with bemusement if the General was secretly wishing her Earl Grey was Drachman Vodka instead.

"He's figured out that he won't get off the ground without you, but he won't get anywhere without me."

"...Can you clarify Sir?" Riza asked diplomatically. She received a huff in return.

"He who strikes first wins. But as Roy knows, you need an unstoppable offense and an impenetrable defense." She folded her arms. "Every idiot with two cenz to rub together and a bit of slimy ambition is going to try to run. They'll flatten him. But between you and me, we can make sure Amestris elects the right idiot to lead this country towards a Republic. As head of the Armstrong Family, I can fund this campaign. You'll need our clout if you want to get anywhere."

Riza fought not to smile. "You would have Roy lead the Country?"

Olivier looked nauseated. "And on my tab for the time being. No, I'm not stupid. The other choices are worse. Much worse. I'm not going to have some prick ruin everything I've worked for just because I want to hit Mustang hard in his solar plexus every time I see his face."

Riza calmly took a sip of tea, studying the General's irritated tapping of her fingers against the arm of her chair. "Of course," Olivier said after a moments hesitation as she inspected her fingernails (for dirt or blood, Riza imagined briefly), "-I have my own expectations that should be met."

"I wouldn't expect any different." Riza replied honestly, setting her small cup down. Olivier smirked. "Which is why I'm talking to you at the moment, and not Roy." she said, sounding almost warm in her tone. Riza suspected Olivier liked her in part because she was good at her job and in part because there was always a bit of camaraderie between female officers, but she also suspected Olivier simply enjoyed egging Roy on by approaching her. She'd been given invitations to Briggs before that she'd never considered, but had always politely deferred. That Olivier would make this deal through her was just another part of the game they played.

"First, I'm included in all campaign updates. If someone so much as sneezes funny, I want to know. Second, I want in on the formation of the new military policy when it comes to it, and third," Olivier emphasized, brushing her blonde hair back from her face. "-you let my mother host your wedding. It would, in fact, make her year, as she won't be hosting mine any time soon. On top of which, my mother does nothing but host stupid, pretentious, newsworthy events."

Riza's brows disappeared under her hawk wing's fringe, and she leaned back in her chair, cupping the tea in her hands. She looked down, and thought about Roy's car idling in the lot until she entered the Command Center. Her ring stood out against the tin cup, diamond's sparkle caught by the beam of the office overhead lights. She supposed that other women would have found this romantic, but the idea of a wedding...

The reality of a wedding was counterpoint to her expectations of a marriage. Love, protection, duty, and passion were all there, all so easy to conjure if she admitted it, and she did, there was no denying she loved him; but weddings were presentations. They were pretentious, as Olivier might say, newsworthy events. Which of course, likely meant that Roy had some ideas about how to go about it.

She took a deep breath. "It would be practical." Riza said, absently tapping her ring with her finger. Practical, she thought, and perhaps less of a hassle. "I'm sure your mother is a lovely woman," Riza said out of a sense of social etiquette, as Olivier rolled her eyes, "-and you're the best partner we could have in this race. Roy knows that."

Olivier rolled her shoulders.

"Captain, I believe we're supposed to pity the bastard who gets 'tied' down, and congratulate the bride, but in your case I believe I can make an exception." she smirked, nudging the cup with a gloved finger.

"-Roy's never had a luckier day in his life, and I wouldn't be you right now for the world."

"Permission to speak freely, sir." Riza said, lips quirking at their corners.

"Permission granted, Captain Hawkeye."

"It's not such a bad place to be, General." she said with a smile.


Riza would have liked to think the media circus would have been gone by five o'clock, but it's clear that it hasn't, and surprisingly, the fervor of it all hasn't died down either. Camera lights popped against the setting sun, and she blinked furiously, eyes readjusting as she made out what they were taking pictures of.

Roy grinned up at her, leaning nonchalantly against his parked car as he waited patiently. His smile was caught under the brilliant bursts of light as he waved, and then suddenly, the cameras were turned upon her. Circles of red and blue danced in front of her eyes as she strode forwards, biting her tongue to keep from commenting on the fact that he'd been intentionally putting on a show for the cameras.

Riza offered up a small smile as he moved, opening the door for her.

"Busy day?" He asked, noting the stack of thick envelopes in her hands tied shut by twine.

"Yes," She said, slipping into the car as she adjusted her uniform and glanced away from the cameras. Roy closed her door shut behind her with a soft snap, and walked around the back of the car and got into the driver's seat. He revved the engine, and pulled away from Command thoughtfully.

"I have a surprise when we get back to my apartment," Roy commented, keeping his eyes on the road as he slid his fingers across the leather of the steering wheel. "But more importantly, I received a rather irate call from Armstrong after I got off the phone to confirm with Gracia that we were still attending Elysia's dance recital this week."

"So I don't need to tell you about our conversation this morning?"

Roy laughed. "No." he said, as he turned the car off Central Avenue. "But I do feel like you should be aware of the fact that by marrying me, you will also be an heir to the Armstrong Estate in the case of the death of the head of the family-" He frowned, "-which would be Olivier, of course."

"Heir to the Estate?"

Roy nodded once, and then glanced at Riza out of the corner of his eyes. "Before the Coup, Olivier named me as the heir to her Estate in her will. I have a copy, and her lawyer has a copy. The inheritance goes to myself, anyone I might marry, and children, if..." He trailed off, before clearing his throat. "She thought that if she died, I might need a base of operations."

"And you didn't think to mention this then?" Riza asked.

"She didn't want it to become public knowledge," Roy replied, before shrugging his shoulders upwards into a slight, sheepish wince. "Alright, I didn't think it would be important unless she died, which I didn't want to happen, contrary to anyone's popular belief."

"I was never under the impression you would have wanted anyone to have died." Riza said, straightening the envelopes in her lap. Within one envelope was a stack of instructions and regulations for the Fuhrer's personal guard, and within another was the foundations of the upcoming election, the process laid out from the office of Grumman himself, and stamped in approval by Parliament. She tucked in the edge of the flap of the second envelope, and looked over softly at Roy. Olivier had been right; they needed her to help them back their campaign, even with Roy's considerable funds waiting to be drawn upon.

"Of course not," Roy said. "-but people only see the power plays. With her out of the way, the path would be clear. That sort of thing." he looked over his shoulder as he turned. "We challenge each other. They don't see that."

"They don't see how you help each other." she mused, smiling over at him. Roy nodded slowly. Riza paused, "She told you the details of her agreement?"

"Of course." he grinned, pulling the car into the side alley for parking beside his apartment building. "I have to say it certainly solves a few problems for us..." Roy parked, and stepped out of the car, moving to Riza's side to open the door.

"It does."

"-You won't believe my surprise though," He said excitedly, changing subjects.

"You mentioned that..." Riza took her folders into her hands and stepped out of the car, keeping an even pace as they marched up the three flights of stairs to his flat. Roy grinned in return, shaking his head instead of answering her. She knew that excited look, and tried not to sigh at the boyish light of mischievousness in his eyes.

Roy stopped when he reached the door.

Something was wrong. The front door was open a crack, as if the wood had been forced open from the lock. He frowned, and looked at Riza, whose hands immediately went to her gun. "I didn't leave the door unlocked." He explained softly, nudging open the door.

He tugged a glove onto his right hand firmly, letting the oak door swing open, and he stepped over the threshold of his apartment. Riza's .45 came up beside his shoulder, and he gasped when he saw what had broke the lock on his door.

"Olivier?"

The blonde woman smiled at the head of a large solid table, gloved hands folded over the table. "Took you long enough." She said, raising a brow with a pink grin. The dark wood added a heavy presence to the room, and a handful of faces seated there turned to look at them. Roy lowered his hand as he caught his mother's gaze at the far end of the table. Harrington ducked his head on the same side of the table, trying to stifle a laugh, and a large woman sneered down her narrow nose beside Olivier.

"What did you do with my couch?" Roy cried, as Riza holstered her gun.

"I take it this isn't the surprise?" Riza asked sardonically. He gave her a baleful look as he stripped his glove from his hand and tucked back into his waist pocket. "No, I found a dog..." he mumbled.

A white mass of fur curled by the feet of Olivier's chair twitched, an ear perking. "Really Mustang, I didn't expect you to be the type to just start bringing animals home..." Olivier drawled, motioning to the empty chair at the other head of the table.

"-Nevermind that! Where is my couch, what did you do with my coffee table, and how did you break into my apartment in the twenty minutes I was gone?"

Madame Christmas looked away.

Olivier smiled. "Thirty minutes. And I donated them to charity. They were hideous."

"General Armstrong, Sir, is there any reason why...you're here?" Riza asked, trying not to let confusion cross her features. True, there had been several hours since she'd last seen the General, but with only thirty minutes to spare, it didn't make sense that she was holding council in their living room.

"Take a seat, Captain Hawkeye, and I'll explain." Olivier said, waving a hand towards a seat beside a thin brunette woman. The other woman had small, blue eyes that darted to glance at Hawkeye, as if she was quickly making decisions based on what she saw. Another empty seat was placed between the Madame and Harrington, and Riza's brow furrowed. She didn't recognize either of the women, or the mustached man next to the younger brunette, and she assumed the other man to the left of Harrington was his photographer.

Madame Christmas raised a painted brow.

"Take a seat, darlin' " She encouraged.

At that moment, Gracia Hughes strolled out of the kitchen, a smile on her face. "Oh, excellent Roy, you're here."

"What are you all doing in my house-?" He repeated, moving for the seat. Olivier pressed her lips together, waiting for him to sit. Gracia shot them both a sheepish smile as she took her seat at the table that had been plopped into the living room.

Roy sat, and Riza joined the chair beside him, their knees bumping against each other as they crowded into the packed table. Roy grumbled under his breath as Riza looked over at him, and then over at the white dog curled by Olivier. "You found a dog?" She asked quietly, as she placed her folders onto the table.

"Her name's Daisy." He said with a frown as Olivier scoffed from across the table. The woman beside Riza leaned back, and pushed against Roy's door, snapping it shut behind them.

"Well then," Olivier said, leaning forwards. "-if we can get past how Igothere..." she said, as Roy leaned forwards over the table.

"-It's called breaking and entering!" Roy cried, placing his palms onto the table.

"I leaned on the door." Olivier shot back, flipping her hair over her shoulder. "Now if you're done, let's get started with introductions,"

"She broke in and threw out my couch and my coffee table, and brought my mother..." He muttered, to Riza as she hesitantly reached to pat him gently on the hand. He frowned and sat back down, pouting.

Olivier snorted. "As I was saying, since we all know who I am-" She said, clearing her throat. "To my left is Marie-Louise Armstrong. Also known as my mother." The elder Armstrong nodded primly. "Her specialty is events coordination, if there's something that needs planning, you turn to her. We're starting with the wedding."

"Indeed." Marie-Louise agreed.

"Beside her," Olivier continued, nodding over at the man with the black mustache. "-is Johann Domwell, head of the opposition in Parliament." He tipped his bowler hat. "Domwell would be head of the Progressives if Parliament managed to actually have parties. He's been working in the Government for over fifteen years. Anything that happens in Parliament he knows about."

Her blue eyes flicked to the other woman at the table. "To his left is Emma Whitelaw, deputy head of the opposition. Whitelaw eats, breathes, and sleeps economics, law, and international relations. If someone tries to instigate a tariff, Whitelaw knows how that will effect the entire country. If Domwell doesn't know, Whitelaw does." The woman named Emma smiled. Oliver nodded. "Whitelaw knows everything."

Oliver turned to her right.

"To my right is a woman known to you all as the Madame Christmas. Her specialty is intelligence. I don't ask how she knows what she does, and you shouldn't either."

Chris Mustang smiled, pulling out a cigarette to roll between her fingers. "I don't see why Roy Boy doesn't get along with you, General." She said warmly as Olivier continued.

"-the Madame knows more about your personal histories than I could intimidate out of any of you. She runs a bar in Central if you ever need a drink."

Gracia Hughes smiled sweetly as Olivier's gaze turned to her.

"Gracia Hughes. The Architect. That's not a metaphor, if you've seen the newly restored Central Library, you know what Gracia's work looks like. Her specialty is also intelligence, but more importantly, she knows the people."

Gracia nodded. "I also have cookies in the oven..."

Oliver shrugged. "To her right is Reginald Harrington, political reporter for the Tribune. His partner, George Thompson, photographer. Our inside connection to the press."

Riza nodded firmly, and Roy realized they'd come full circle around the table.

"Captain Riza Hawkeye," Olivier said firmly. "-long time loyal friend, and Fiancee. Her specialty is marksmanship, and she knows more about guns and safety than anyone else. She's devising an elite security team for our Candidate..."

The table turned to look at Roy.

Olivier paused for effect, straightening stiffly. "Roy Mustang, Flame Alchemist, and Hero of the Restoration. Don't look pleased Mustang, it's not a nickname I gave you. This idiot is our man. His dumbfounded expression is there because I threw out his furniture and invited you all here because he forgot to mention he was running for Officer until this morning." Olivier sneered. "Your apartment is a mess."

"I wasn't expecting company," Roy gritted between his teeth.

"Surprise." Armstrong said, with a note in her voice that Riza interpreted as glee. "Let's get to work boys," The General commanded, looking away from him. "-we have a lot to do."


Someone asked if I'd forgotten about the politics. Nope. The newspaper headline was given to me by the lovely Riza-Hawkeye-RP, she's wonderful and one of the Rizas I roleplay with on tumblr.