A/N: Standard disclaimers apply.

"Are you alright, Lady Hawkeye? You seem upset."

"Oh yes," Riza said, attempting to hide any distress in her voice. "I needed a moment of fresh air. These events can be overwhelming at times, that's all."

"You don't have to say that twice," Roy said as he ran his fingers through his hair. He sank down to the floor and motioned for Riza to join him. She sat back down, taking the time to make sure her dress would be free from wrinkles.

"Are you not enjoying the party, Mister Mustang? My grandfather threw it to honor his most esteemed and valued officers."

"Sure," Roy scoffed. "Honored my ass. I'm certain Grumman only invited me to show me off like the prized pony the military thinks I am. If one more military widow fawns over me, I'm going to throw up."

A small, but genuine, smile creeped across Riza's face. "Surely it's not that bad."

"With my promotion finalized, I am officially the youngest Lieutenant-Colonel in Amestrian history and your grandfather takes every opportunity he can to brag that it was his mentoring alone that got me here."

"What? My grandfather using other people to forward his own agenda? He would never!" Riza let out a laugh and for the first time all night she allowed herself to truly relax. She uncrossed her arms and placed her hands in her lap. "Congratulations on the promotion. You must be quite the soldier to be promoted to Lieutenant-Colonel at such a young age."

"I've just a good strategist," Roy said humbly, rubbing the back of his head with his left hand, disrupting his slicked back haircut. His bangs fell back towards his forehead and Riza smiled at the sight. He looked much more like her father's young apprentice without the stiff hairstyle. "So how have you been Miss Hawkeye? I believe the last time we saw each other was three years ago when you were home from boarding school for summer break."

"Has it been that long since your last visit?"

"I fear it has. There's not a lot of opportunities for leave on the front lines. I'm quite surprised to see you here, if I am being honest. I figured you would have been made someone's wife by now." Roy watched as Riza's face fell at his words.

"I assure you, my father's working on it." Riza's voice was bitter. "He and my grandfather introduced me to Lord Bradley earlier this evening."

"Lord Bradley?" Roy said bewildered as he sat up a little straighter. "Doesn't he have a wife?"

Riza shook her head. "They divorced. She never gave him a child so he's on the market for a younger model."

"You'd make a fine Mrs. Bradley, if it's of any comfort." Roy offered her a genuine smile and reached out to give her hand a comforting squeeze.

"Mustang! I know you're out here somewhere! Hughes said he saw you walk onto the balcony."

The sound of General Grumman brought Roy and Riza's conversation to a halt. Roy jerked his hand away from Riza's as they quickly stood up to find the old man marching toward them.

"Ah! Roy my dear, there you are. And my lovely granddaughter! Whatever are you two doing out here?"

"I came to have a break from the crowd," Roy supplied with a smile. "And Miss Hawkeye was kind enough to accompany me. We've been catching up."

"Well, both of you have been sorely missed, so come on now. Hurry up." Grumman motioned for them to follow him. The pair reluctantly followed him, abandoning their brief moment of respite. "There's someone I would like you to meet, Mustang."

They headed back inside. The party had picked up and couples crowded the dance floor.

"Lord Bradley," Grumman said as they walked over to where Bradley was still conversing with Riza's father. "Allow me to introduce you to the officer I was telling you about. Lieutenant-Colonel Mustang, this is King Bradley."

Roy bowed slightly. "It's an honor to meet you, sir."

"You as well," Bradley politely replied back. "Grumman tells me you're an exemplary soldier."

"Grumman flatters, sir," Roy said. "I merely try to do my best for this country." He then turned to Berthold. "Master Hawkeye, it's wonderful to see you again."

"Master?" Bradley inquired.

"Ah, yes, Roy here was an apprentice of mine during his youth. The General and his guardian desired he have a proper education, bastard or not."

To his right, Riza was certain that Roy flinched slightly at the word "bastard" but, if anyone else had seen it, they made no mention of it.

"That's very generous of you, Berthold," Bradley smiled. "Now I see how this young man is so successful. How can you not be with mentors such as yourself and the General?"

"That's too kind, sir," Roy said.

"So tell me Roy," Berthold said as he accepted a cup of wine from a passing servant. "Where are you currently staying?"

"I'm staying with General Grumman for the weekend," Roy answered. "I am currently on leave, sir. The military has graciously allowed me the winter to recover from the war. I was wounded and there's still much improvement needed before I'm physically fit again."

"You've been granted a full winter of leave so long as you continue to make these appearances," Grumman grumbled. "And only if you heal properly."

"And after your stay with Grumman?"

"I'm not certain. I may head back to Central to visit some friends or go South and unwind in the countryside."

"Nonsense, my boy!" Berthold clapped his hands on Roy's shoulders, squeezing them tightly. "Stay with me. I would love an extra hand with the business. Winter is our busiest season and no one knows the intricacies better than yourself. Riza can have your old rooms prepared in a day's time."

"I don't want to impose-"

"You would be doing nothing of the sort," Berthold said firmly. He let go of Roy's shoulders and turned his body to face the group once more. "Besides, I could genuinely use the help."

Riza offered Roy a small smile as he turned to accept Berthold's offer.

"Then it's settled," Grumman said. "I'll send Roy over to your Estate on Monday." He turned to Bradley. "Are you sure we cannot persuade you to stay in town longer than tomorrow?"

Bradley shook his head. "I sincerely wish I could," he said as his eyes roamed over Riza's figure. "But I must handle my business affairs before winter makes traveling difficult. Now, if you gentlemen do not mind, I would love it if Miss Hawkeye would accompany me for a dance." He offered her his arm.

"It would be my pleasure, Lord Bradley," Riza said. She accepted his arm and allowed herself to be escorted onto the dance floor. She sighed internally. It was going to be a long night.

/-/-/

Riza frowned. For the third time this evening, she caught herself staring aimlessly at the blank page of her open journal before her.

Riza faithfully journaled every evening before retiring to bed. She had developed a habit of making a pot of tea, sitting down at her desk and consciously gathering her thoughts from the day's events. As a young girl, journaling had helped her cope with the untimely death of her mother and the growing neglect from her father as he allowed himself to be consumed by his work. But tonight, Riza found no words to fully capture her feelings.

Her father had practically pranced into the dining room for breakfast, still elated from their successful conversation with Bradley the night before. Riza, exhausted after a long night of restless sleep and unrelenting thoughts, barely had the energy to keep up with the conversation, let alone engage with it. Her father did not seem to notice her one-word answers and incomplete thoughts. He was too caught up on the fact that Lord Bradley had found Riza much to his satisfaction.

"Riza, my dear, I've never been more proud," he beamed over his coffee. "You will take this family far."

"Thank you," she said quietly, her eyes focused on the patterned wallpaper to her left. She half-heartedly took a bite of her food, forcing herself to swallow.

"Spring can't come soon enough," Berthold continued. He placed his elbows on the tables, clapped his hands together and rested his chin on his fingers. "You will make the most beautiful bride- just like your mother."

"Yes," was all Riza replied.

Berthold had spent the rest of the meal endlessly elaborating on Riza's future status, the privilege it would grant her and the connections it would bring him. He rattled on and on, never making eye contact with Riza or bothering to truly engage her. If he noticed her wandering gaze or lack of appetite, he said nothing. When her father's personal secretary hesitantly interrupted their meal, Riza had to stop herself from visibly sighing in relief as her father bid her goodbye and left for his office.

"Numb," Riza mumbled to herself as she brought her teacup to her lips. She dipped her pen in ink and wrote the word in her journal. "I am numb and that is all there is to write. Barring a miracle, by this time next year I will be Bradley's wife."

Bradley's wife. The words look foreign-menacing even- written out in her delicate script. She sighed again before closing her journal for the evening and hiding it in the bottom of her desk drawer. She closed her eyes and fought the lone tear that threatened to fall. She stood up and shook her head before retiring to bed.

I will not allow my spirit to be broken this easily, Riza thought with an iron finality. I will not.

/-/-/

"That's a risky move, my boy."

Roy looked up from the chessboard and at his opponent. Grumman was smiling at him, a small twinkle in his eye. "No risk, no reward," Roy offered back.

Grumman made his next move without hesitation. Roy countered swiftly, moving his knight and taking out Grumman's last bishop.

"I'll admit, I did not expect that," Grumman said. "Clever on the battlefield and clever in competition. You are a fine officer."

"Thank you, sir," Roy answered back politely. He twiddled his thumbs as he waited for Grumman to make the next move. "I don't believe I've properly thanked you for your hospitality, both this weekend and at the lovely party."

"No need my boy. Generals must keep up their appearances, stuffy parties and all. Your present simply alleviates my need to entertain everyone since I can have you do that for me. Although, I am rather pleased with my granddaughter's introduction to Lord Bradley."

"Do you think he will marry her?" Roy asked.

"I do. He had courted her mother back when she was about Riza's age. This was before he began manufacturing weapons for the government, of course, but he still had a strong family name. I was thrilled about the match, but as you know, she ran off and eloped with Berthold of all people instead." He grimaced at the mention of his son-in-law. "Riza looks just like her mother. If I know Bradley as well as I believe I do, he will marry Riza come spring."

"Allow me to prematurely congratulate you and your family," Roy said with earnest. "This should be quite advantageous for all parties."

"But of course." Grumman gave a mischievous grin. "Bradley will have his wife and hopefully an heir. Berthold's land and estate will have the financial security he craves. And I, my boy, will have a personal 'in' with the single largest military contractor in Amestris. There's no downside, in my opinion."

"And Riza?"

"Riza will have the satisfaction that she brought honor and status to her family. She will never want for anything again," Grumman looked at Roy. "Riza is a woman of duty."

"It's a most admirable trait."

"It is indeed. Speaking of duty, I am optimistic that you will be fit to return to active duty come early March. Although… has your condition improved since our last discussion?"

Internally, Roy prayed that his face had remained as neutral. To Grumman, his hesitation spoke volumes.

"That bad?" The General removed his glasses and began to shine them with a small cloth he retrieved from his pocket.

Roy shrugged as he attempted to downplay Grumman's source of concern. "It's manageable."

"Manageable or not, you need to find a solution. No respectable officer wakes up in the middle of the night screaming," Grumman's voice was firm, but a layer of genuine worry remained. He placed his glasses back on his face and leaned forward to be closer to Roy. "I understand the difficulty of getting over shell-shock. I myself struggled with it back when I was your age. But there is a reason you were selected for this promotion above all the others. Your mind is sharp, my boy. You see the battlefield in ways that our senior officers and enemies alike do not. I do hope that you will be able to resolve the problem over the course of your winter leave. You are far too valuable to Amestris to be medically discharged."

"This is my main priority, sir, and part of why I accepted Berthold's invitation to stay for the winter. I hope staying busy with work unrelated to the military will allow myself time to recover." Roy kept his gaze fixated on the chessboard between the two men. "I am honored I was even considered for this promotion to begin with, General. Without your intelligence and expertise, I'm not sure I would be this far ahead at my age."

"Oh please, stop diverting" Grumman snorted. "I invited the art of flattery. You'll have to do better than that to charm me."

"I suppose so," Roy smiled softly. "Permission to speak freely sir?"

"Granted."

"I fully understand the lengths you had to go to grant me such a generous leave and for that I truly thank you. I'm afraid I may have been too idealistic and naive when I first joined the military. War has hardened me, albeit reluctantly. Once I've improved my mentality, I will be the best officer to ever serve under your command."

"I sure hope so," Grumman said as he leaned back in his chair. "You are a fine officer. It would be a shame to keep you on desk duty for the rest of your career. The sooner you get these night terrors in check, the sooner you can really start going places." The serious tone of their conversation quickly disappeared as Grumman took a moment to contemplate his next move, muttering softly to himself. He reluctantly moved his rook to the right, grimacing as Mustang quickly removed the piece from the board. "Are you all packed to move to Berthold's?"

"Yes sir, I gave the servant my bags before joining you for this game," Roy answered. A smirk flashed on his face as he surveyed the chessboard.

"I apologize for not extending the invitation myself, but I reasoned you would rather avoid all the members of senior staff that visit these halls until you are cleared for active duty." Grumman was correct and Roy told him as much. "However, I do enjoy our chess matches. What would you say about making this a weekly appointment? It will allow you to update me on your recovery as well. Checkmate."

"What?" Roy's voice was laced with confusion. All traces of his smile vanished. "How? How did you just beat me?"

"You may be a prodigy, but I'm still the master," Grumman said with glee. He placed his chin on his hands and peered over his glasses to Roy. "Monday's at three. I'll send a carriage over to Berthold's so you don't have to bother my insufferable son-in-law with arranging one yourself. If he gives you grief, direct him to me."

Defeated from his blind sighted loss, Roy stood up and moved to exit the room. At the doorway, he turned and gave his commanding officer a sharp salute. "See you next Monday at three, sir."

He left the room, leaving Grumman to contemplate how honestly Roy had answered his question about his condition.