A/N: Hi! Sorry this update has taken so long. I was diagnosed with cervical cancer last May at the age of 26 and honestly... it was just too much. Although I am fine, in remission and luckily my situation was easily taken care of surgically, my mental health is just getting to where it was. I'm hoping to post at least once a month until both of my in-progress stories are completed so **fingers crossed** I can find my writing groove again.

Riza wakes to a pounding headache, amplified by the incessant knocking on the front door.

She sits up. In her drunken state she must have fallen asleep on Roy's couch as soon as she walked in the door. She frowns as she notices her shoes are still on.

"Goddamn who the fuck is knocking this early?" Roy says as he stumbles out of the bedroom, a hand on his forehead. He looks as bad as Riza feels.

"I don't know, but make it stop."

Riza almost jumps out of her skin at the sound of Havoc's voice. He's sitting on the floor surrounded by a pile of blankets and a lone pillow.

The knocking continues and grows louder and more urgent.

"Whoever it is, tell them to go the fuck away," Havoc groans as he props himself up into a sitting position.

The answer is exactly what Riza expects.

"Good morning Roy!" Hughes cheerfully yells as he prances into the living room. "What a fine Saturday it is today!"

"Hughes… what the hell are you doing here?"

"I brought breakfast!" Maes says as he holds out a box of pastries before pausing once his eyes reach Riza. "Oh. Good morning Hawkeye. I'll be honest, I wasn't expecting you to spend the night."

"Cool it, Hughes," Roy warns. "Hawkeye slept on the couch. Havoc slept on the floor. We figured she was too drunk to go to her own home and, once we were here, we realized we were both too drunk to get her out of her sling safely."

"What's Havoc's excuse?"

"He lost the keys to his flat."

On cue, a long, drawn out moan echoes from the corner. "Fuck. That's right. I did lose my keys, didn't I?"

"Yeah, you did."

"We'll come on now, let's get some coffee going. You all look like shit." Hughes practically jumps as he moves into the kitchen. "Some caffeine will do you good!"

Havoc slumps his way to the dining room table. Riza joins him, looking considerably more put together, although the pounding in her head makes her sympathize with Havoc's visible plight. Roy sets up the percolator and soon the bitter smell of coffee begins to fill the room.

"How are you not dying, Hughes?" Roy says as he finally sits down with his coffee.

"Because I threw up once I got back to my hotel!" Hughes says with a smile on his face. "Lucky me!"

"If that's your kind of luck, remind me never to bet on you."

"So when do you get the cast off, Hawkeye?" Hughes asks.

"Fortunately, in two weeks' time. I'm getting more out of shape by the day."

"Good thing all you need to do is aim and fire, Hawkeye," Havoc says as he takes a desperate first sip of coffee. He closes his eyes for a moment, savoring the taste, before continuing. "Although, I was so worried when you fell out that window."

"I was kind of surprised a feat like that didn't make the paper," Hughes says. "When Roy told me you took down a whole ring of sex traffickers… impressive feat for such a young team."

"Is it? They all died. We know how to kill people a little too well," Riza says. Her tone is casual, but there's a shadow to her words.

"These people deserve to die, Hawkeye," Havoc says firmly.

"Does anyone really deserve to die?"

"Yes."

Riza looks over at Roy a little too quickly. He's mulling over his coffee, quietly absorbing The conversation.

"They thought they had a right to touch you for no other reason than you were a woman. Scum of the earth."

His words cause a conflict deep within Riza. She knows he is right. It would be a lie to say she wasn't relieved to watch Havoc shoot her assailant dead or to hear his companion burn. The criminals had chosen death with their actions that day. Rationally, Riza could imagine no other outcome. They had messed with fire and gotten caught in the flames.

Literally.

Still, Riza hates to admit that this part of her, this part of Roy, the part so openly accepting of another's death, the part so openly accepting of a death she helped cause, troubles her deeply. She had never been one for violence or aggression. As a child, she had avoided conflict, choosing to run faster, farther than her bullies.

It's a grim reminder that Ishval continued to bury itself within her veins, transforming her DNA. She is a killer. Roy is a killer. This is their life path. A life path she actively continues to choose. A life where she sits around a coffee table, casually discussing the deaths of criminals she caused while nursing a hangover.

In the year since the war, little has helped bear the burden of Ishval. If she were to close her eyes, nothing could stop the scent of blood, the screams of children and the sweltering heat of the desert from invading her mind completely.

Riza's train of thought breaks as Hughes laughs and she has to physically stop herself from frowning with envy.

Hughes did the impossible. He returned from war determined to live. Riza and Roy returned to survive. His inner strength is something Riza both envies and doesn't understand. To Hughes, nothing is off limits. He doesn't bask in the darkness of the war. He doesn't try to find ways to self-punish in a pathetic way to repent. He lives and laughs and loves so openly that Riza can't find it in her to hate Hughes for his ability to heal.

She can only wish that one day, she will view life with the same gusto. She can only continue to support the man sitting in front of her as he paves the way for their redemption. She reminds herself of this before quietly excusing herself to the restroom.

She no longer allows herself to think about where her life would be if she never followed Roy into the military. She made her choice too long ago.

/-/-/

A few more days pass and there is no news of Riza's transfer. Roy grows restless and begins to contemplate asking Grumman if his spies in Central have heard anything Roy himself might have missed.

"Have patience, sir," Riza says one morning as she catches Roy glancing out of the window, distracted again. "I'm sure we will hear of the Fuhrer's decision in due time."

"Yeah, yeah," he says dismissively. "Have you finished sorting through the monetary requests?"

"Of course," Riza says as she brings him a pile of paper. Even in her lameness, she is more efficient than Roy and his men combined. No one could replace her. It would be foolish of anyone to try.

He feels his blood boils as the grim reality someone might once again creep into the back of his mind.

For a long while, the sound of pens scratching and pages turning are the only thing that fills the room. Across from Riza, Breda shifts through files Roy has designated to be of interest for one reason or another. Havoc excuses himself for a smoke and for once Roy is too occupied to bother reminding him he just took a smoke break the previous hour.

"Do you think you're a career military woman, Hawkeye?" Roy asks before he can stop himself.

Riza straight at him. "I think it would depend, sir. If I find I'm doing something positive with my tenure, then yes."

"I consider myself a lifetimer," Roy says.

"Admirable."

"Not if you think about it deeply enough."

Havoc's voice reminds Roy that they are not alone in the room, no matter how decoded their messages. "Would you ever retire Hawkeye? Get married?"

"Are you still trying to set me up with your friend?"

"McArther and Fields, Hawkeye. McArther and Fields."

"No matter how incredible his job is, right now I'm just not ready to date."

"Yeah, yeah. A man has to try for his friend, you know?" Havoc runs his hands through his hair. "But seriously, Hawkeye. Do you think you'll ever retire and have children? I don't know if I've ever heard of your plan."

"I don't think I've ever spoken of it," Riza says. "And maybe? I don't know. Honestly, I doubt it. I used to want a house and children, but you know… the military asks a lot of and takes a lot too."

She doesn't need to say what she is really thinking. Roy knows.

"Personally, I'm pretty shocked I haven't found the one myself with how popular I am with the ladies," Havoc says as he leans back in his chair, feet propped up on the desk. Besides him, Breda snorts.

"Havoc we were talking hypotheticals, not fantasies," Roy deadpans.

"Fuck!"

The men's focus snaps to Riza, who is grimacing as she braces her broken arm.

"What happened, Lieutenant?" Roy asks, concerned overpowering his tone.

"I'm okay," Riza says through clenched teeth. "My sling strap got caught in my lapel button and when I went to free it, I must have tweaked my arm the wrong way. It only hurts a little."

"Do you want to go to the infirmary?"

"No, I'm okay," Riza says as she takes a deep breath.

"Lieutenant, you're awfully pale," Breda says quietly. "Maybe the infirmary isn't a bad idea."

"I'm okay, really," Riza says. She turns back to the paperwork on her desk before she leans forward and audibly winces.

"Okay we are going to the infirmary. It's an order," Roy says as he stands up at his desk.

"Sir, we can't. We have the budgeting meeting in ten minutes. That's not something you just miss."

Roy hates that Riza is right. This meeting is far too important for him to miss. He concedes.

"Fine. Havoc, take Hawkeye to the infirmary. Breda you're coming to the budget meeting with me. Bring a notepad, you're taking notes."

"But sir-"

"It's an order, Hawkeye." He leaves no room for debate. "We will chat after you see the doctor."

Hawkeye states at him for a moment too long. "Fine. Come on Havoc, let's go."

Ninety minutes later Roy finds himself back in the office. Hawkeye and Havoc have not returned from the infirmary and he can't imagine that's a good sign.

Fortunately, they don't have to wait long before footsteps sound outside the office door.

"Everything alright?"

"It's fine sir," Riza says. She's no longer wearing a sling and the cast of her arm looks newly plastered. "I tweaked my shoulder a little. They don't think the sling is beneficial, so I no longer need to wear it."

"And the fresh cast?"

"They wanted to check on the injury's progress and figured they might as well when they were examining me anyway. Everything is healing as expected."

Roy lets out a breath he was unaware he was holding. "I'm glad to hear that."

It quickly becomes clear how Riza is significantly more independent without the sling restricting her upper body. There is more spirit in her step as she moves around the office, monitoring the men until their paperwork has subsided to a near-tolerable level.

"Well, I'm headed out for the night. Let me know if you need anything, boss," Havoc says as he stands up from his chair and puts his jacket on over his shoulders.

The rest of the men clear out shortly, leaving Roy and Riza to work by themselves. After an additional thirty minutes of silent, focused work, Roy's eyelids feel heavy, despite the fact it is barely six in the evening. He tries to stifle a yawn, but his efforts are far from unsuccessful.

"Would you like a coffee, sir?" Riza

"Can't we call it a night instead?"

"You're already behind on paperwork. Do you really want to expedite the problem?"

Roy groans louder than he intends to. He knows Riza is right- she usually is about these things- but it doesn't mean he won't complain the entire time.

Riza, sensing his compliance, gets up from her seat and begins to prepare a pot of coffee in the corner of the room.

"If you had told me that there was going to be this much paperwork in the military, I would have never joined," Roy groans. "It's a shame your father never mentioned it. It would have saved us both a great deal of trouble."

Riza turns from the coffee station and gives him a menacingly cold stare.

"What? It's just us here."

"Regardless, that isn't talk for the office," Riza says, her voice thick with disapproval.

"Whatever," Roy says with a sigh, but he drops the subject.

An hour later they have completed enough work to leave for the night. As they climb into Roy's car, Riza clears her throat awkwardly. "Do you still think it is appropriate for me to stay at your place? Now that I am without the sling, I can move around just fine."

"Can you pull your hair up on your own yet?"

"Sir, I am perfectly capable of taking care of myself at this point."

"You didn't answer my question, Lieutenant," Roy says simply.

"I don't need to be able to put my hair in a bun to return to my apartment."

"Putting your hair up is only an example. I'm sure there are a lot of tasks you would still struggle with with only one working elbow."

"Sir, you're being dramatic."

"And you're being stubborn. Tell me, is staying with me that bad?" Roy teases.

"No," Riza says far too quickly. She glances over and sees Roy's eyebrow raise. "It's not that. It's just…

"It's just what?" Roy asks. His eyes are glued to the road, but she knows all of his attention is on her.

"It's just… when you first suggested I stay with you, I thought this would be more difficult. But it's not. I'm a little afraid of getting too comfortable."

"Difficult? We lived together for four years. Did you really have such a low impression of me as a roommate?"

"You know that's not what I meant. It's comforting… living with you."

Roy knows. His heart aches with Riza's words. Personally, he has gotten a little too comfortable with her at his house. The familiarity and companionship have easily taken him back to a simpler time when he was just an alchemy apprentice and Riza was just the master's daughter.

"It does feel like old times, doesn't it?" Roy says. "Back when we were naïve young kids."

"Except now, you do more than just annoy me when I'm cooking dinner."

"It's called personal growth," Roy teases. "Besides, look at you. The shy, closed off country girl who had never been on a train has certainly grown up. But I understand. It's like everything has changed and nothing… all at once."

"And that's what makes me nervous, sir. Because things have changed. I'm different. You're different. We are different. Sir, you do realize that this is the longest we have continuously spent together since the week my father died?"

Roy pauses for a moment before realizing the statement is true. In Ishval, the war took precedence over all else. Once they were back in Amestris proper, they had dove into their work, rarely seeing each other outside of the office. Self-preservation, Roy would call it.

"You talk like I'm still a twenty-year-old boy who can't keep his hands to himself."

"I just didn't know what to expect, all these years later."

Her answer makes Roy frown. "Do I really give off that bad of an impression that you, of all people, would believe I can't behave myself?"

Riza thinks about his question. Her answer makes her ashamed. He has never given her a reason to believe otherwise, always treating her with respect.

Roy can see the answer on her face and speaks before she has a chance too. "Really, Hawkeye? I must admit that surprises me. You should know better than anyone that I am a professional. It was my idea to have you stay here and I would never suggest such a thing to take advantage of the situation or your condition."

Riza hangs her head. "I know, sir. Now that I said it aloud, I don't know why I was ever worried."

"It's okay," he assures her. "Besides, Hawkeye. When we decided to work together and put everything between us in the past, I meant it. Regardless of how I feel about you, you are my subordinate, and I am your commanding officer and I will do everything in my power for you to feel respected as such."

Riza barely hears the last part of his reassurance towards her. She is too busy focusing on the fact he said how he feels and not how he felt about her. It was so casual off his lips that she could almost pass it off as a mistake.

Except everything Roy Mustang did was with intention.

"I know sir," she finally says. "I appreciate your professionalism, I do. But I also worry for the day you realize I'm much more of a headache than I'm worth." The words slip out of Riza's mouth before she can stop them and for the second time that day, Roy looks genuinely shocked at her.

"You're never a headache. If anything, I'm the headache."

A small smile crosses Riza's lips. "You can be difficult, sir," she says softly. "If I transfer, they better give your next adjutant a raise for putting up with you."

"But seriously, what will you do if you are transferred?" Roy is almost too afraid to ask this question.

"Sir, I made a promise to you. If I am transferred, I will always find my way back."

By now they have reached Roy's place. Roy parks the car in the back alley as usual and reaches out to grab Riza's hand, giving it a soft squeeze.

"You better, Lieutenant. I can't do this without you by my side."

He lets go of her hand and climbs out of the car, seemingly unaware of the rapid beating of Riza's heart, or the bright blush that has blossomed on her cheeks. Taking a deep breath, she opens the car door and follows him inside, unwilling to unpack the conversation that just transpired.