I'm just going to time skip here. It is now October.


Ed opened her eyes. Somebody was in the shower. She didn't need to get up and see who. She already knew it was Roy. They had become frequent partners and the previous night marked a change in their affair. He had been far more loving than usual. He stepped out of the shower. She closed her eyes and pretended to still be asleep as he padded around the smaller room. The trash can fell over. She heard him clean the mess up. "Oh, shit," he said. She knew he had discovered something she had tried to conceal; she was at the most fertile point of her cycle for October. "Shit," he said again. She crossed her fingers underneath the covers. This was no time for him to be a gentleman. She needed him to overlook that in typical Roy fashion.

He came out in the bathrobe he had stolen from her. She looked asleep but he wasn't certain. There was one way to find out. He sat on her. "What the hell, Mustang?" came the instant reply. "Get off!"

"You were pretending to be asleep," he said in mock severity, standing back up. She got out of bed and walked over to her closet to pull some clothes out before robbing her chest of drawers and retreating to the bathroom. He seemed to be ignoring it but then the look her gave her as she passed him said he was watching her for certain signs.

Once she was cleaned up and dressed, she went downstairs. He was already dressed and in her kitchen, making breakfast. "You're cooking in my kitchen?"

"Yes, I'm allowed to do that, aren't I?"

"Yeah, just don't blow the place up."

"Why? The military can afford the repairs."

"Maybe they can but I can't."

"It wasn't given to you?"

She laughed, pouring herself a glass of orange juice. "I bought it with my own money."

"Oh, I see." He looked at her as she reopened the door of the refrigerator. "Pass me the eggs, please?" She handed him the eggs before pulling out a small bottle of vodka and allowing a little to dribble into her orange juice. "Wimp."

"Ever drunk this shit straight?"

"No."

"Now who's the wimp?"

He passed the carton of eggs back. "Then pour me a shot glass of it straight."

"Gladly, but on one condition."

He eyed her smile warily. "What?"

"You asked for the wodka, you drink the wodka. Don't waste it."

"Wodka?"

"Da, wodka."

"Alright then, since we're acting like we're from Drachma, da."

She laughed. "The bacon is burning."

"Oh, shit!" He fled back to the stove.

She passed him some paper towels. "Hand me the step ladder?" He passed it to her. She set it up in front of the cabinets and stepped up on it, now being able to get down two plates and two glasses. She tried to step down but lost her balance. She didn't get to hit the floor.

"Careful, Edwarda," he said, setting her on her feet. "You could have just asked me to get them."

She huffed and walked over to the silverware drawer as he returned to the stove. "Winry always puts them too high up," she muttered.

"Then what do you do when you need to eat?"

"I either use paper plates, which I'm out of, or eat take out."

"What's your favorite restaurant?" He asked. "The Drachma?" His tone was teasing.

"No, the Xing," was the matter of fact reply.

He filed that away in his memory banks as she set the table and fixed three drinks. Two were of orange juice spiked vodka and one was just vodka. "Breakfast is done."

"Good," she set the three drinks on the table as he filled both plates. Hers had more food than his.

They sat down and Roy turned his thoughts to breaking the now awkward silence. "What about the restaurant that just opened?"

She thought about it. "I ate their take out once. I liked it."

"When?"

"We ate their pizza for dinner last night. It was to die for." Just then the phone rang. She got up to answer it. He frowned at it but stayed silent during the conversation that followed. She came back. "Apparently my words have a way of coming back to haunt me. Shipdale also ordered a pizza last night from the same restaurant. There was poison on it."

"Did it kill him?"

"Unfortunately… I mean, luckily, he's in critical condition at the hospital."

"They suspect you?"

"I have motive."

"You also have an alibi."

"No! You weren't here, no matter what!" She looked him in the eyes. "Mustang, please, don't be my alibi."

The fear in her eyes was all he needed to convince him. "I've never been here before," he said, sharply, as to convince her more than himself that it was true.

She reached into a drawer and pulled out some gloves. "They'll be looking for fingerprints," she said tiredly. "One of us better go destroy any evidence of your presence."

He put the gloves on and she headed upstairs, leaving him to take care of the kitchen. It took them thirty minutes but all was left was only her fingerprints on clean surfaces. He grabbed his bag and left out the side door before the police arrived. Now she had a false alibi but he didn't. It wouldn't take him long to get one.