In Which Rebecca Sees The Truth

Outraged, Rebecca stomped down the hallways of the military hospital. She was not only nowhere to be found, but when finally having squeezed the confidential information out of an unexpecting, overchallenged nurse, Rebecca had come to learn that her friend was, in fact, not being treated. She was not in the hospital at all anymore!

Rebecca nearly ran Havoc over where he wheeled around the corner.

"Oh-" she staggered. He steadied her with a hand on her lower arm.

"You okay?" his eyes flashed up and down in search of a wound. Finding none, he frowned at her with irritation furrowed brow. "Are you looking for someone?"

"Yes," she hissed, "I was looking for Riza after I left during the emergency treatment, but they say she isn't being treated," she explained. Havoc breaking into a smile irked her.

"Don't worry, she's in the best of care," he grinned.

"She's with him right?" Rebecca was merely a notch away from a growl. She shrugged his hand off when his eyes spoke of affirmation. Havoc had to laugh. Grabbing his wheels, he turned to make his way down the hall. She followed wordlessly. She was getting the feeling that he knew the exact whereabouts of her friend.

"Now I don't know what you're so worked up about, seeing as you helped along with his coup and all, but she really is in good hands," Havoc said over his shoulder. She did not spare him a glance where he beamed her another grin, the unlit cigarette that hung between his lips rolling from one side to the other. When the comment – the expression bordering a flirt, if she allowed the thought – nearly earned him a crash into the wall, she grabbed the handles of his wheelchair.

Her strut was as stiff as before, hurrying in the directions he pointed.

"He's a good guy," Havoc shrugged when she had still not answered after minutes. He sighed sharply in defeat.

"Don't worry, I haven't changed my mind about this having been the right thing," she remarked, shrugging towards the debris they passed on their way across the hospital gateway. They really were leaving the premises. "Only I don't appreciate the way the man treats my Riza – she's a workaholic through and through; he shouldn't load even more onto her than she already does. She needs a counterweight, someone to tell her to let loose once in a while," she started gesturing wildly with one hand.

Havoc – still smiling – fleetly corrected the unintended turn at her lack of guidance with a signal of his hand.

"Yeah, that's not really her strong suit," he agreed. "Though I do believe the Colonel has his ways of telling her how to downshift a gear," he vaguely disclosed. Everyone in the Mustang Unit knew a slightly late First Lieutenant at the office meant he had kept her in bed, perhaps forced her to sleep in. Of course, she would kick him out to be on time all the same.

"No, I mean," Rebecca exhaled in frustration, "she needs to find herself a husband, and hanging around the office into the night isn't really all that beneficial."

"Why the sudden need of a husband?"

"It's not sudden – she ought to have found one long ago," Rebecca said. She continued when he opened his mouth for the next question. "Have you ever seen her go out? Flirt with a guy? Go on a date? Has it occurred to you that maybe she doesn't have any friends?"

"I beg your pardon, but we-"

"Outside of work," she cut in.

"What's wrong with us being her friends?" Havoc pouted. He used her momentary struggle with a piece of rubble in the way to get a word in edgeways. "She can talk to us," he retold, "she confides in the Colonel. We even convince her to join us at a bar every now and then," he puffed his chest proudly. That really was an achievement, one had to admit.

"Once in a blue moon," Rebecca rolled her eyes nonetheless.

"She isn't one to enjoy going out, anyway," he gave back.

"Besides the point. Riza has to get out of that role she is forcing onto herself – working her arse off for an obviously one-sided relationship, and don't look at me like that – I'm not blind," she pursed her lips. Of course she knew about her best friend's futile crush; it was tragic to watch.

"I don't think it's that simple," Havoc tried to allay. For naught.

"He dragged her into this, only for her to end up traumatised – again," her fingers curled into fists around the handles of his wheelchair.

"I'm rather sure they're both fairly traumatised," Havoc grimaced.

"After Ishval."

"No, I mean it," he ceased all jokes. "They just made him watch her die to force him into doing human transmutation," he seriously said. She took a breath to protest, when he signalled her to stop. It made her lose her thread.

They had only just crossed the street, now facing the entrance to the barracks – usually used by the military as lookout, storage, or temporary accommodation for transferred soldiers who had not yet found a flat in Central.

She narrowed her eyes at the partially collapsed building, then at Havoc who glanced up when she stopped dead.

"They didn't want to occupy any beds for those who needed them," he reasoned.

"They need them," she snapped back. "Honestly, I don't think any of the men being treated would have done the same for them…" she huffed, encircling him to open the door. She overtook the pushing once he had wheeled inside.

Neither knowing where to find the two humble soldiers, they quietly crept along the corridors. Rubble had come down here and there, nothing in pieces yet shook from the nearby battle. Water was running somewhere, perhaps form a burst pipe. Apart from that, there was nothing to be heard. Fine specks of dust danced through the air, visible only when there was a ray of sun.

They passed a restroom, a kitchen, a supply room and a small gym, eventually finding the dormitory. The door was ajar. Rebecca held her breath when giving it a light nudge. Everything was dusty, cobwebs stringing in the corners, but at least the door did not creak.

Both she and Havoc stretched their necks, peeking into the room.

Bunk beds formed rows to house about ten men. A door to the right told of another, connected sleeping chamber of the same calibre. The windows opposite the door allowed light to flood the room, even more unsettled particles of dust twinkling softly in front of the rays streaking across the cool concrete floor.

Neither of them gave the layout a single thought, eyes trained to the right; to the bunk against the wall. The lower one. They did not seem to have made it any further.

Curled up on her side, Riza's flank rose and fell steadily. With one arm beneath her head, she faced the room, eyes closed. A frown of pain was crowning her forehead. Not one of discomfort, but one of pain.

She was not merely in her bra anymore as Rebecca had last seen her wear on the stretcher during the emergency treatment. Now donning a white button-down shirt – one with cuffs, clearly a man's – her bandages showed slightly around her neck where the shirt was not properly closed for the sake of being more comfortable.

Between her and the wall, on the same bed, lied the donor of said shirt. In his vest – his coat with Alphonse and shirt with his Lieutenant – the Colonel was left with the sleeveless undershirt. He had docked onto Riza from behind, one arm hanging over her waist next to her own. The latter bothered Rebecca to the point of gritted teeth, seeing as he had had the audacity of interweaving his fingers with hers.

Just then, Riza stirred. A small moan escaped her lips, lids twitching. Laboriously, she peeled them open. Her tired gaze wandered to their joint hands, then over her shoulder, and Rebecca thought for a second that Riza might have been too exhausted to even realise her superior's possessiveness, half hoping she would finally stand her ground and move away. That did not seem to be the case, an ascertaining glance all there was to it.

Or perhaps there was more to it.

Turning then, sewing hope by releasing his hand, Riza stunned her friend. With another faint sound, she snuggled into her Colonel. He stirred, hardly giving opening his eyes a try. Instead, he wrapped both arms and legs around her in response, pressing her to him. Deflating in a deep sigh, he relaxed again, and she mirrored him.

Rebecca scowled when feeling the smug grin directed up at her. Dumfounded, she ignored Havoc. And here she had always believed the whole tragedy not to have been mutual.

With a hoarse grumble, Roy then decided to turn around, too. Tightening his limbs around her, he rolled onto his back, never letting his Lieutenant go for an instant. Blinking her eyes open again, Riza lifted her head where she was now atop him. She watched him for a moment. Eyes glazed with tiredness and something Rebecca could not decipher, Riza put her head back down onto his chest, just when he assessed not to favour his back after all. Ending up between him and the wall, she did not complain.

"Lieutenant," Roy croaked. She hummed in response, but when nothing else came, silence engulfed them again. He had merely seemed to have wanted to say her name – even if it was not actually her name.

A minute passed. Any and all thoughts seemed to happen in slow motion for the mentally and physically strained soldiers. His torso jerked when she moved. Her arms appeared from where she was almost completely hidden from view now. They wound beneath and around his own, reaching under them to hook her fingers to his shoulders. His protective legs had slackened, his lower arm serving as her pillow, holding her around her shoulders, while the other returned her hug.

Extensive wiggling of his brows made Rebecca shoot Havoc a death glare. One of defeat, yes, if reluctant. She did not want to believe it, still hoping their way of acting was nothing but an aftershock of almost having lost their lives, and that Riza was solely doing it to make him feel reassured. The sigh Rebecca suppressed spoke otherwise.

Roy coughed lightly, his back convulsing where he tried not to do so into his Lieutenant's face. Her arms detached, releasing him. Dragging herself up to sit, her voice was almost too soft to be understood all the way at the door when she asked her superior whether he wanted water. Through his coughing fit, he nodded in agreement.

Reaching over him, Riza leaned on his chest to grab the half empty bottle of water they had brought. Not for a second did her usually sharp, unrelenting eyes travel up to spot their spectators. She retreated for him to sit up, handing him the bottle. The coughs died down after a handful of careful sips. Her concerned gaze never strayed from his face – the dark rimmed eyes she shared. She wordlessly declined when he offered her the rest, merely accepting the bottle to close it, setting it aside.

"How are your wounds?" Roy cawed.

"Fine," she said as if automatically. Neither Havoc nor Rebecca understood the following grumble of the Colonel, observing the frown that played over Riza's forehead.

"Are you sure?" he insisted.

"I am," she ensured without missing a beat. Still, she knew he was not too happy with the dismissive reply. Not least because of the grunt he gave.

"This really is the worst... I can't even see if you're lying or not," he lamented, offering a wry smile at the same time. Her features softened. A mixture of pity and fondness flickered in her eyes. Shuffling to sit without needing her hands for balance, she took both of his. She then placed them flat on her cheeks, leaving her own over his as he cupped her face with bandaged hands.

"I'm fine. The wounds sting but not too badly," she repeated honestly. Both had to smile at the silly method. "I'm tired, I'm pumped full of painkillers, but I'm okay, and I'm glad you're too," she enumerated.

"What was that last thing?" Roy flashed her a smirk. Rolling her lips inwards in obviously feigned annoyance, she attempted to overplay her amusement.

"And I thought blind and deaf were two different things," she teased. His smirk broadened into a boyish grin. Her eyes gained a spark of revived spirit. He did not let go of her face. On the contrary – his thumb started stoking her cheek, and she leaned into the caress, sighing mellowly.

Releasing his hands, she leaned forward. For the split of a second, Rebecca's heart shot up into her throat at the thought of them actually kissing. She did not have the time to notice how unfazed Havoc regarded the scene.

But Riza never met her superior's lips. Instead, she hovered close for another heartbeat before whispering, "I'm glad you're okay." She kissed his forehead, smiling, having it returned. It was so sincere, so deeply affectionate, Rebecca nearly puffed at how the Colonel's smile did not only consist of self-praising smirks.

He truly cared for her.

When Roy sank back down, Riza let herself be pulled down by him without a hint of resistance. Nuzzling her head below his chin, the tenseness seemed to flow off her overworked muscles. They wrapped the other into their arms again, entangling their legs, and with one wholehearted sigh they heaved in unison, drifted off into a well-deserved nap.