Handling the Truth

"Your friend is the man who knows all about you and still likes you."

~Elbert Hubbard

Although she'd tried to be moderate with the pain killers she'd been given, Hawkeye slept through most of the next several days. She woke more than once to find that Rebecca had been and gone, leaving behind still-warm containers of soup or thermoses of tea with cheerful little notes, such as:

'Good morning, dearest!

I didn't want to wake you when I left this morning, but I brought you some soup from that deli we went to last week – Now, I know you didn't think much of that pastrami on rye, but I promise you that their chicken and rice soup is the best in the whole city. I'll come by again after work to check on you, so feel free to call me at the office if you want me to bring you anything on my way home.

Feel better!

Rebecca'

The soup was really good. Unfortunately, it did nothing to assuage Riza's vague sense of guilt.

"Dammit, Rebecca," she sighed one morning, crumpling the daily note in one fist. "How am I ever going to make this up to you?"

And then she noticed the garish pink nail polish on her fingernails.

"What the hell- ?"

Amused in spite of herself, Riza couldn't help but notice that her unsolicited manicure was almost professional quality. Perhaps it was time to lower the dosage on those pain meds, she thought, shaking her head with a faint smile.

When Rebecca stopped by that evening, bearing an offering of Xingese takeout, Riza was awake and alert and waiting for her. Closing her book, she looked up at her friend and merely raised an eyebrow. Rebecca just grinned mischievously and set about unpacking the takeaway cartons.

"I was bored," she shrugged, unapologetic. "You didn't even stir. In fact, I wanted to do your toes, but you were lying on your stomach, so I had to make do with what I could reach."

Riza spared a moment to be grateful that Rebecca hadn't tried to roll her over - that would have been a very rude awakening. Even the thought of it sent a chill down her spine.

"Well, I suppose that's my cue to lay off the cold medicine," she sighed, thinking of the array of painkillers currently hidden in her nightstand. "Damn stuff always makes me drowsy; I hate taking it."

"It's nice to see you up and about," Rebecca noted, settling in the armchair and drawing her legs underneath herself. "You're feeling a bit better, then?"

"Almost back to normal," Riza replied, half-truthfully. The pain level had gone down from excruciating to merely agonizing, at least. "I mostly just feel weak and lethargic," she admitted, sitting cross-legged on her bed.

"But you're not, like, feverish or achy, or any of that stuff. Right?" Rebecca probed, frowning faintly.

"No, I think that's all passed, now," Riza reassured her, accepting the container of hot and sour soup Rebecca passed over. "By the way, I really appreciate your looking after me, these past few days," she added, smiling shyly.

"Glad to be of service," Rebecca beamed. "Oh, and that reminds me - I got your sick leave approved; you're all clear through the end of the week."

"You're a life-saver, Catalina," Riza said earnestly. Rebecca just grinned, pleased. The girls ate their soup in companionable silence for a few moments, while Riza pretended not to notice Rebecca's not-so-surreptitious glances at her.

"So...if you're sure you're feeling better," Rebecca finally ventured, setting aside the remainder of her soup and reaching for a different container. "There's something I've been wanting to talk to you about."

Riza's face paled.

Had Rebecca noticed them, then? The burns? Could she convince her friend that she'd merely been wounded in action and somehow neglected to mention it before now? Would Rebecca realize that her wounds were far too fresh for that story to be true? Or would she already know that there was no record of a serious injury in Riza's medical file?

"Yes?" she managed, throat tight.

"Come on, Riza, I've been DYING over here!" Rebecca cried, exasperated. Pointing an accusing chopstick at her friend, she added: "Did you think I wasn't going to find out?"

"Find out?" Riza echoed, faintly.

"You sly little vixen. I mean, the Flame Alchemist?! I can't BELIEVE you didn't tell me right away - I need details, immediately!"

Wait.

"Flame Alchemi - oh, my god." She knew about Roy. The wave of mingled anxiety and relief was almost dizzying. Thankfully, Rebecca mistook Riza's stricken expression for one of embarrassment.

"Mm, that was my first thought, too," she winked cheekily.

"How- how'd you even know?" Riza asked, her brow wrinkled in confusion.

"I followed you," Rebecca replied. "The other night, when you went to meet him."

"Rebecca!" Riza cried, scandalized.

"What?" Rebecca rolled her eyes. "Oh please, like I was really just gonna let you wander off unattended after plying you with booze?" she scoffed.

"I...I suppose not, but—" Riza stammered.

God, what if she'd overheard their conversation? What if she'd seen? Riza's cheeks turned pink, reflecting on the brazen way she'd discarded her blouse to expose her back, right in the middle of his living room…and the ill-advised kiss shortly thereafter. She hadn't even thought to check whether the curtains over his windows were drawn.

"I didn't stick around long," Rebecca was explaining, a little sheepish now that she was faced with Riza's reaction. "I just wanted to make sure you were gonna be okay, that's all."

"You haven't told anyone, have you?" Riza asked anxiously. "That I was with him?"

Rebecca's head whipped up, food forgotten.

"Seriously? You're asking me that? Just who do you think you're talking to?" she demanded, offended. "I don't gossip about my friends. Especially not about my best friend. Fuck, Riza, you think I just go around telling everyone I meet all of your personal, private business?"

"No, it's not – I mean, I don't think you'd…" Riza stuttered to a halt, ashamed of her instinctive mistrust. "I'm not accusing you of anything, it's just..." she trailed off uncertainly, wondering how exactly she could possibly explain.

Rebecca had no way to know the true cause of her anxiety, and if Riza had her way, that's exactly how it would stay. It wasn't that she didn't trust Rebecca; she did. Secrets and lies had a way of driving wedges between people, and Riza wasn't willing to risk losing her best friend. Then again, all it would take was one offhand comment to the wrong person to destroy Major Mustang's career, and her own, and she couldn't risk that either. So she had to tread very carefully, here.

"I didn't mean it like that," Riza finally mumbled, raking a hand through her hair in frustration. "I'm sorry."

"Who'm I gonna blab to, anyway?" Rebecca was grumbling. "Amy over in accounts payable? She wouldn't know a juicy bit of gossip if it came up and goosed her."

"All right, all right," Riza said, contrite. "I said I was sorry. I just - I don't want anyone to get the wrong idea. If they knew we had a personal relationship…well, they wouldn't be interested in listening to the truth. They'd only care about how it looked."

"Well, what's the big deal, anyway? It's not like he's the first officer to get involved with a lower-ranking solider," Rebecca said, still sounding hurt.

"For one thing, we aren't involved," Riza sighed. "Not in the way you mean. But that really wouldn't matter if a rumor got to the wrong ears; even the appearance of fraternization could lead to disciplinary action for either one of us. And that sure as hell wouldn't do anything for my reputation."

"Oh…I didn't even think about that," Rebecca said, blinking. Was that the only thing that had upset Riza? "I mean, I'm aware of the possibility," she said. "But it's a moot point. You know no one's gonna hear about it from me."

Riza frowned down at the dregs of her soup.

"Yes, I know," she said in a small voice. Am I overacting? Riza asked herself. Maybe I'm not being fair to Rebecca.

"And even if I was planning to spread some rumors, shouldn't I at least have my facts straight?" Rebecca went on. A teasing note had crept back into her voice. "I should at least know which juicy details are real and which are the product of my overactive imagination," she added, waggling her eyebrows suggestively.

Riza couldn't help the chuckle that escaped, but she still hesitated.

"Come on, please?" Rebecca wheedled, sensing weakness. Time to bring out the big guns, so to speak. "Look, I brought us tangerine chicken to go with the soup!" she cried, gesturing at another of the takeaway cartons. "That's your favorite, right?" She knew that it was. "And wasn't that chicken and rice soup from Milton's the best you've ever tasted? I mean, aside from your own, of course; no doubt you have some prize-winning secret recipe passed down through the Hawkeye family for generations or something."

"The Grumman family, technically," Riza interjected, her lips curving. "It was my mother's recipe."

Something about that name rang a bell in the back of Rebecca's mind, but she dismissed it impatiently.

"And I'm sure it was amazing," she retorted. "But we can discuss recipes later! Right now I just want you to tell me about your 'it's-not-what-it-looks-like' overnight stay with the Flame Alchemist. Who is even hotter than his State title suggests, as I am sure you're well aware."

Riza groaned and hid her face in her hands.

She did sort of owe it to her. And what's more, she knew that Rebecca was as good as her word. If she promised not to say anything, then she wouldn't.

"Not a word of this to anyone, Rebecca. Promise me," she said at length, raising her head to look directly into Rebecca's eyes.

"I swear. I'll take it to my grave," Rebecca vowed, sitting up straighter and trying to contain her overwhelming glee.

"All right," Riza said softly. "I'm not really sure where to begin..."

"Take your time," Rebecca replied, eyes sparkling. No doubt she was expecting some heart-warming tale of romance, Riza thought with a sigh. She almost hated to burst her bubble.

"Remember when I told you that things were a little awkward between us when we met up in Ishval?" Riza began after a moment. "And that he was less than pleased to see me there?"

"Right," Rebecca nodded, thinking back to their conversation from several days earlier. "He was all upset because he hadn't intended to inspire you to join the military yourself, and he felt responsible for getting you involved."

"Mm-hm. At least, that's what I thought was going on. And it was a big part of what he was feeling," Riza acknowledged. "But what I never told you is that my friend—Major Mustang—couldn't have become the Flame Alchemist without my father's involvement. Roy Mustang was his most talented apprentice."

"Wait," Rebecca interrupted. "So your dad was an alchemist, too?" Riza nodded. "Oh," Rebecca breathed. "That makes more sense, now."

"What does?"

"You once said your father wasn't a trusting man; that he was afraid that people would steal his secrets. I never thought to ask what he did for a living, but - well, it fits."

"Yes," Riza agreed softly. "My father was a very skilled alchemist. And he hated the very idea of the State Alchemist program. He refused to join, and frequently said that those who did had sold their souls to the military in exchange for material comfort and prestige."

"Oh," Rebecca said, her mind racing ahead. "But, what about - ?"

"He didn't take the State Alchemist's Exam until after my father's death. When he spoke of enlisting prior to that, he was only talking about the regular military, not the State Alchemists," Riza clarified. "My father still didn't approve, and they argued a bit, but he never actively tried to prevent his going. He just said he hoped Mr. Mustang wouldn't come to regret his choice."

"Oh, god," Rebecca gasped. Regret his choice—holy fuck. "So, when the Ishvalan conflict escalated and they deployed the State Alchemists…" she said slowly, frowning. "Mustang probably already felt like he'd failed your father by becoming a human weapon. And then you come waltzing onto the battlefield, and...What?"

Riza was gaping at her in open amazement.

"Nothing," Riza said, quickly recovering her poise. "It's just...most people wouldn't understand that feeling of failure. Of betrayal."

"Well, I'm not most people," Rebecca replied with a proud toss of her head. "Plus I've dated a few alchemists in my time," she admitted with a sheepish grin.

Riza chuckled.

"Of course," she said. "Anyway, you're on the right track. But it's a little more complicated even than that…"she sighed.

In a steady, calm voice, Riza went on to describe how her father had fallen ill, obliging him to cut Mustang's apprenticeship short. How his illness had prevented him from passing his secrets to a worthy successor, forcing him to entrust that task to his daughter in his stead. How he'd later died in Mustang's arms, expressing his regret that he wouldn't be able to bequeath his legacy to his most promising student, and entreating him to look after his only child with his dying breath.

She finally choked up trying to explain that she had actually been the one to give Mustang her father's encoded notes. That it was her own actions that had enabled him to learn the secrets of elemental flame alchemy, which in turn had allowed him to pass the S.A. E. and become a State Alchemist.

Rebecca's eyes welled up in sympathy.

"Oh, honey," she whispered, when Riza had to stop for a moment.

Riza just shook her head and cleared her throat a few times before going on. She was skirting perilously close to forbidden territory, now, and chose her next words carefully.

"So, you see, we had a bit more to discuss than an old teenage crush," she said.

"I'll say," Rebecca murmured, wiping the tears from her eyes. No bloody wonder Riza had worked herself up into knots over seeing this guy again.

"That first night, I reminded him that he'd broken his promise to stay in touch," Riza continued. "And then I made a fool of myself by bursting into tears, which I think threw him," and here she let out a shaky little laugh.

"Of course it threw him; you never cry," Rebecca noted, slightly awed. "So…what'd he do?"

Interestingly, Riza flushed.

"He panicked, a little," she said, fidgeting. "And he tried to comfort me…but then he smelled the alcohol on my breath." Well, tasted it on her tongue, actually, but close enough. Rebecca would never let her hear the end of it if she found out about the kiss.

"So?" Rebecca asked, puzzled. "You'd had a drink before meeting him; why would that matter?"

"Because he thought I was well and truly drunk," Riza mumbled, embarrassed. "I mean, think about it: I turned up on his doorstep out of the blue, smelling of alcohol and in the middle of an emotional outburst - babbling about broken promises and crying all over him. What would you have thought?"

"Yeah, all right," Rebecca conceded. "Not an unreasonable assumption to make, under the circumstances."

"And he was at least half right," Riza grumbled. "I don't know what I was thinking, tossing back whiskies like that."

"Worked, didn't it?" Rebecca retorted. "Can't argue with results! So, he thought you were tanked?" she prompted, changing the subject abruptly. When Riza shot her a narrow-eyed glare, she batted her eyelashes innocently, which turned Riza's glare into an eye-roll. "And then?" Rebecca pressed.

"He was really worried about me; said he didn't want me going back to the barracks all alone," Riza continued, still flushing prettily.

"Point in his favor," Rebecca murmured, approvingly.

"I think he was afraid I'd tried to drink myself into a stupor," Riza sighed. She certainly wouldn't have been the first soldier who sought oblivion at the bottom of a bottle. "Anyway, he said we needed to talk when we were both calm–by which he meant sober—so he asked me to stay overnight, and...oh, stop that, I slept on his couch!" Riza cried, interrupting herself to glare at her friend.

Rebecca tried and failed to wipe the unholy grin off her face.

"Sorry," she said, not sounding sorry at all. "Go on?"

Riza shook her head in fond exasperation.

"The next morning, we talked," she said slowly. "About Ishval, and about my father. About the guilt and the blame," she went on, her voice faltering a little.

Rebecca bit her lip, hard. What a tangled mess, she thought. Poor darlings. She was beginning to think that she'd never fully understand the complicated web of betrayal, remorse, overwhelming pain and forgiveness that tied these two people together.

"It was a little intense," Riza said, smiling faintly again and thinking of the unexpectedly emotional conversation they had shared. "But…really good. We were both able to get some things out in the open, to understand each other better. Forgive each other. You know, it's amazing, Rebecca. He's still the same self-assured idealist that I used to know, only…he's a little less naive, now."

"How do you mean?"

"In spite of everything we've seen and done…or maybe because of all those things," Riza corrected herself thoughtfully. "Even now, his dreams and goals haven't changed."

"His dreams?" Rebecca echoed softly, as though afraid to break whatever spell was causing Riza's unusual volubility.

"Yes," Riza replied somewhat dreamily. "He wants to change things. Improve things. Make this country a better place, worthy of the sacrifice of the men and women who've given their lives to defend it. Have you ever heard of the alchemist's creed?"

"Sure: 'Be Thou for the People.' Right?"

"Right."

Rebecca wondered, not for the first time, whether Riza even realized how clearly her feelings showed in her eyes. Right now, they were full of pride and affection and…hope. An answering surge of hope rippled through Rebecca's heart at the sight of it.

"So what, he wants to use his powers for good, now?" she teased lightly. Riza smiled.

"Something like that, yes," she replied.

"Then…are you going to stick around and see if he can do it?" Rebecca asked. "Change things, I mean?"

"Yes. Yes, I believe I will," Riza said quietly. "I honestly don't think I could do anything else, now."

"What, you don't want to go back to the country and raise cattle or sheep or whatever it is they do out there?"

"Don't think I haven't considered it," Riza retorted. "But I've done that already, or near enough. And it is a lot more work than you're imagining, trust me. You'd suffer a nervous breakdown inside six weeks."

"If I didn't keel over from sheer boredom first," Rebecca agreed cheerfully. In a more serious tone, she added: "I know it's selfish of me, but I'm awfully glad you're planning to stick around. I was terrified you were going to resign and hare off someplace I'd never see you again." she admitted. "I mean, I know you were thinking about it."

"I was," Riza acknowledged. "But… I can't let myself off so easily." Before Rebecca could ask what she meant by that, she went on in a cheerier voice: "Besides, the prospect of living life without ever hearing another of your horrible first date stories, or listening to one of your harebrained schemes," she shook her head with mock seriousness. "I just couldn't face that."

"And I bet they don't have Xingese restaurants out in the country, do they?" Rebecca teased back, even as the tears in her eyes threatened to spill over. "Life without tangerine chicken? Unbearable."

"Exactly," Riza smiled at her. "Speaking of which, pass it over, will you?"

As Rebecca laughed and turned her attention to the pile of takeaway containers on the nightstand, Riza exhaled softly. Talking with Rebecca, even if it was a slightly edited version of events, had been really good, she decided.

"Anything else you wanted to know?" she offered lightly, as she took a delicate bite of her chicken. Rebecca paused with her own chopsticks halfway to her mouth and pursed her lips in thought.

"There's just one more thing," Rebecca said, seriously. "Your Roy Mustang – whose connection to you and/or your relatives (outside of the usual comrades-in-arms connection he shares with all persons who serve in the military) I shall be forgetting the moment this conversation ends," and here she had to pause to take a breath, while Riza tried not to giggle. "So as not to jeopardize either of your careers or reputations –does he have any attractive male friends?"

"I've only met one so far," Riza admitted through her laughter. "A Captain Maes Hughes. Actually, I think you'd like him immensely; he's a good man and a fine officer. But you're out of luck, I'm afraid. He's already engaged," she said, solemnly shaking her head.

"Damn it! Why are all the good ones taken?" Rebecca wailed.

A.N. Happy New Year! The holidays have been a bit hectic, so thank you all so much for your patience! As always, feedback is welcome and appreciated!

xoxo Janie