Originally Published: March 11, 2021

Last Edited: Oct 27, 2022

A/N: And we're back! I hope you enjoy!

Thank you again for the reviews, follows, and favorites! I love getting those notifications.

Chapter 9

Morning

Saturday, September 14, 1918

The blankets were warm and snug around her twisted limbs. The surprisingly pleasant dreams of her rest lulling her gently into the waking world. Morning light colored the back of her eyelids, a content sigh leaving her through her nose. She shifted her hips slightly, trying to scoot her lower leg an inch or two. It was then she registered the muscular arms wrapped around her middle.

Her eyes fluttered open, unfamiliar surroundings flooding her vision. The room lacked any adornment, a nightstand with a lamp catching her eye, then the closed closet doors built into the wall. The sheets and pillows were gray, the duvet a diamond patterned black and white, both smelling freshly laundered. Filtered morning light glowed through the sheer white curtains, warming the space with early sunlight.

She blinked, trying to remember where she was. Her eyes were puffy and sore from excessive crying, her mind fishing up the memory of Rebecca's anger and indignation.

"Get off your high and mighty horse, Riza Hawkeye. We already know you're riding him."

She groaned, already missing sleep as reality seeped back into her bones. She grabbed a loose pillow, smothering her head with it as her body began to ache. Crying so much had likely led to dehydration. She should get some water- before she cried again.

The thought of moving sounded completely unappealing. The blankets were safe, and she didn't have work until Monday. Maybe she'd muster the will to go buy ice cream later so she could put on a radio show and eat her feelings, snuggled up with Hayate. She needed it, and not just because of her argument with Rebecca. There'd been far too much negativity concerning her predicament with Roy the last two days. Between the Elric/Rockbell wedding, the smattering of couples hooking up, and...

The arms around her waist tightened slightly, a deep breath coming from behind her. She'd forgotten about the embrace so swiftly, the threat of the situation having vanished with her emotional pain.

It was back now.

She pulled the pillow from her head, trying to be quiet with the movement as she craned her neck to look over her shoulder. His raven hair was a mess across his pillow, clear stubble lining his jaw, eyes closed, mouth open, breath slow and even with sleep. Roy Mustang's arms held her around her waist, his bare shoulder was above the blankets, rising and falling in a steady rhythm with his breath.

What? Her head swam, floundering for an explanation. Her mind dredged up half muddled memories of the office, the ride to his house, the quaint room he'd offered, the chamomile tea, the dream leaving her aroused- the kissing.

"You're not dreaming. We'll talk in the morning, when you wake up in my arms."

It was morning and she was too alert to still be sleeping. Here she was, lying in his arms in his bed. He'd kissed her to sleep, lulling away her worries and pain.

"Sir?" she voiced, propping herself up and half turning in his arms. Her pajamas slicked across her skin with the movement, twisting awkwardly across her breasts. He grunted in response, inhaling deeply as he ducked his head against her side, groaning in protest at being woken up. "General, you need to let go of me," she instructed, her voice going flat, more to protect herself rather than from irritation.

He exhaled in a rush, his arms tightening around her as he pulled her closer. Her eyes widened in surprise as he shifted, rolling on top of her, his face burying against her shoulder. He inhaled deeply, humming groggily, "Mmm, Ri."

That perpetually smoky scent that was Roy hit her nose, his weight pleasant and warm. His mouth pressed delicately against her pulse, causing her breath to catch.

Instinctively, she gripped his muscular biceps as his lips trailed kisses along her scar up to her jaw. Heat washed over her in waves, her heart thundering in her chest, drumming against her ears. An involuntary keening came from her throat, her back arching, her head tossing against the pillows. His hands found her through the sheets, slipping between her shirt and her abdomen. Slightly calloused skin ran across her belly, his knee shifting between her thighs, bringing awareness to the tightness between her legs.

She suddenly realized exactly what was happening, her head stepping in as her eyes snapped open. What was he doing? What was she? It felt wonderful, but the painful memory of nine years ago came floating back to mind. Warning.

"Stop," she strangled out the word, her body not agreeing with her mind. She pushed him firmly, causing him to grunt in surprise. He lifted his head, bleary eyes meeting hers. He blinked once, confused. Blinked twice, stunned.

"Riza? Oh, shit, I'm sorry!" His ebony eyes widened in clear concern as he rolled off of her, unintentionally taking the blankets with him.

Cold air washed over her, the warmth of the bedding and his body withdrawn. She sat up, bracing herself against the cold. "I should go," she murmured, moving to leave.

His hand snatched her wrist, effectively stopping her in her tracks. She warily met his gaze again, his expression mixed between apprehension and- hope? "No, you shouldn't."

"Sir, this is highly inappropriate."

Despite her protests, he drew her to him, meeting her in the middle as his mouth clashed against hers. His free hand moved to her neck, cradling it delicately as he plundered her lips. Heat flushed through her body, a quiet moan rising up to the back of her throat, hardly audible. He huffed in response, his tongue sliding across the seam of her lips, asking for admission. Despite herself, she opened up for him, gasping as their tongues tied, her limbs and stomach on fire.

Suddenly it wasn't just Roy kissing her, she was kissing him back! Her arms wrapped around his shoulders, fingers curling into the back of his black hair. Her torso was flush with his as she pressed her breasts against him heatedly. She tilted her head further into the kiss, a warm, needy moan leaving her throat boldly.

She became far too aware of the pool of desire soaking her pajamas. An elation filled her as she felt the rush to her womanhood. She needed this. She needed him.

He suddenly broke the kiss, his forehead pressing against hers as his warm breath washed across her skin. A wordless whine broke from her throat as she climbed into his lap and straddled his hips daringly. There, between her legs. An embarrassed and aroused heat rippled through her body as she felt his erection. She thrust against him, begging for more.

A possessive growl rumbled from his throat, his hands shifting to her hips instantly. "Ri, stop. I don't have a condom."

She froze, her stomach dropping right out of her body. Her eyes fluttered open, wildly catching onto his gaze. They were both panting from desire and heat and lust. On her part, her body was cooling swiftly, her mind racing to catch up.

"I have to go," the words left her from numb lips.

He shook his head, mouthing a breathy, "No," as she tried to pull back. His hands around her hips held her tight, their struggle causing her to fall back to the bed, the mattress springs creaking with her rough landing. She twisted onto her stomach, trying to drag free as his arms wrapped around her waist desperately. "Reez, stop. I won't kiss you again, but we have to talk."

"I have to go!" she cried, panic and fear tumbling through her as she trembled in his arms. Tears leaked from her eyes, her raw skin stinging from the salt water. An unattractive sob burst from her throat, her world crumbling around her.

There was a sudden flump as Roy's body tackled her to the bed, his torso against her back, pressing her chest to the mattress. She grew still, the pressure warm and, surprisingly, calming. "Captain," he growled, authority in his deep voice as it rumbled against her being. "Calm down. Now, I'm going to keep you here for a few moments while you compose yourself. Can you breathe?"

She nodded doggedly, her "Yes, Sir," coming out muffled.

She wasn't sure exactly how to feel about being pinned, especially by her Commanding Officer. She was left listening to their breaths slowing, the heartbeat in her eardrums quieting. The scent of his linens permeated her as her face continued to press into the mattress.

Grimacing, she shifted her face to the side. "Sir, you can get off now." He didn't respond immediately, Riza not having a decent view of anything but his naked arm. "Please?" she tried, flexing her toes.

"What do you remember about last night?" he murmured, Riza feeling the rumble in his chest.

"About- when?"

"When Hayate woke us up."

She hid her heating cheeks back into the sheets, the blush spreading to her ears and chest as well. "Sir, I..."

"It's Roy, damn it!" he snapped, finally climbing off of her. "We've known each other for how long? And we just made out. If I hadn't stopped us, we'd still be going. So tell me, Riza, what do you remember about last night?"

Though he hadn't emphasized it, shame overwhelmed her as he pointed out that he'd been the one to stop them. That was her job, not his. She pushed herself up to her knees, settling back on her heels, keeping her back to him. She couldn't bring herself to look at him. Not now.

Absently she began pushing up the cuticles on her fingers, using the action to distract herself from what she was about to say. "I- had an erotic dream. About that night- with you. And then I woke up. And between the Gala on Thursday with all the- damn happy couples, and Rebecca's accusation last night, and the years I couldn't say or do anything... And there you were in the hallway, looking like that," she glanced back at him, eyes flicking over his naked chest. She inhaled, looking forward again as her face heated further. "I took a cold shower. I didn't know what else to do and when I came back out, you kept pressing."

She grew quiet, head dipping in shame. Her voice came as a whisper as she admitted the truth, "It was all I could do to not lunge myself at you. And, despite everything I did to hold back, you kissed me. Again and again and again. And you said those things that I had only faintly imagined, but never dared to hope that I'd hear. And, no matter how good it felt, or how much it meant, nothing can come of it.

"So, when I call you 'Sir,' it's because I can't trust myself with calling you by your name. And- when I say 'I have to leave', I mean it.

"So, Sir, do I have your permission to go now?"

He was quiet for a prolonged moment, the silence encouraging her to look back at him, careful to keep her eyes on his face. His jaw was set as he watched her with those obsidian irises. He sat cross legged, hands braced on his knees like he was ready to spring into action. She tried her hardest to not let her eyes rove downward to appreciate his bare torso, her heart settling in her throat with anticipation.

His lips finally parted, allowing an inhale through them. "We're not done," he answered firmly. "I've waited more than fifteen years to tell you how I feel and I'm not leaving it unresolved further."

She bit her lower lip, looking away again. "Could you put a shirt on, at least? And maybe, could we move this to the kitchen?"

The bed groaned under his shifting weight, but instead of him getting off, the mattress dipped deeper behind her. A hand gently pressed against her lower back, the touch causing her to flinch. He paused as she inhaled sharply, her fingers curling tightly into the fabric of her pants.

"I think more clothes is the wrong direction," he murmured, his voice closer than before. The sound of it sent a shiver up her spine as his hand eased under the hem of her shirt a second time since she'd woken up, his fingers dragging along her back as he glided the fabric up. She closed her eyes, her mind screaming that she should stop him- but it felt so damn good.

She lost sensation of his fingers as he gasped. His hand stuttered slightly before he shoved her shirt over her head. The silky material loosely crumpled over her abdomen, her arms still in their sleeves. He wasn't touching her anymore, but she knew what he was doing.

"It's worse than mine," he whispered, voice tight.

"Well, yours got medical attention," she shrugged slightly, a hollow feeling in her chest. His touch returned, Riza left feeling the pressure on her muscles and slight drag on the surrounding skin, but not the actual touch. She turned to look over her shoulder at him, his gaze troubled.

"I'm sorr..."

"Don't. I asked for this. It saved me. Just like..." she shifted, tugging her shirt to cover her breasts as she twisted to face him. She reached out, grazing his burn scar along his side. "Just like this."

"Do you regret it?" he asked, his expression crippling. "Do you wish I hadn't burned you?"

She exhaled slowly, weighed down by the question, "I wish you hadn't needed to. I wish he hadn't... What kind of father does that?" her voice choked out the question, buried resentment and pain surfacing, threatening tears for a brief moment.

No, she wouldn't cry for him. He didn't deserve it. She steeled herself as Roy gave a shuddering breath, his head dipping, his dark bangs hiding his face from her. "Sir, please, I'm grateful for what you did. I know it doesn't take away the pain..."

He looked up, anxiety in his eyes, "It hurts? But you said... and third degree burns kill nerves!"

"Not my pain, Sir. Yours," she corrected gently, looking down at her hand still on his abdomen. "The closest I've ever come to feeling that kind of pain was when I had to stop you from killing Envy. To point my weapon at the person I care most about, even for your own good... I'm so glad I didn't have to pull that trigger, Sir."

Silence fell over them, Riza closing her eyes and sighing softly, trying to release the tension of the memory. He gently grabbed her wrist, his skin grazing hers as he shifted his grip to the back of her hand. Resting his knuckles on his knee, he cradled her hand palm up. She opened her eyes to watch the gesture, trying to show no reaction to the pleasant shiver it sent up her arm. She pulled her eyes up to meet his, but his gaze was focused on her hand as he began massaging circles into her palm.

"Why'd you take my shirt off?" she murmured as the silence stretched.

"Why didn't you stop me?" he tossed back, his eyes finally lifting to meet hers.

Her hand flexed instinctively as she narrowed her eyes at him. "Throwing this back on me won't help you. You're the one who initiated. You're the one who wants me to stay."

"And if you really wanted to leave, you would have already done so. Riza," his free hand lifted, brushing back her bangs and caressing her cheek. "Can't we just be honest right now? No more hiding. We've done plenty of that."

"We'd have to hide in public, Sir."

"Grumman wants us to get married."

She started, blindsided by the declaration. "What?"

"He's been telling me for years, asking me to marry you. Usually in jest at the end of our chess matches, but he brought it up again at the Gala." She tried to pull her hand from his, but his grip tightened, easily stopping her. "I didn't need his promptings to consider it," he gave a humorless chuckle, his free hand rising to caress the inside of her wrist. She gasped with the touch, the sensation oddly exhilarating.

"Back when I was in the Academy, Hughes asked why I wanted to be a soldier. I told him I wanted to protect Amestris and the people I care about, even if it cost me my life." He grew quiet, his expression growing more sober, "He said he wanted the same thing, but that- he would live. He would live for his wife. Before he'd even met Gracia and there he was, determined to not leave her a widow."

His voice cracked, his words causing a shiver to run down her spine. "Anyways, he... You know Hughes: he had a knack for positivity. He made me hope I could have something like that too. I... When I went to Harsten after graduating, I had this plan. Get you out. Away from your father. Somewhere you could thrive and become your own person. I was going to ask you on a few dates, and if you were interested, I was going to court and marry you. Two or three years, I thought."

He exhaled heavily, "Then Master Hawkeye... I couldn't. You were in so much pain. I told myself it would be wrong to add that to what you were going through. I hoped after a few months I could start expressing interest, but you chose...

"Damn Hughes bothered me about it the rest of his life. He knew I loved my Master's daughter. He knew I'd planned on asking you to marry me. So, Riza, I mean it when I say I want to be with you. I'd like to try- even if it's illegal. You're everything to me. You're more important than becoming Fuhrer."

His confession set a bubble of warmth spreading through her chest, the feeling swiftly punctured by a less pleasant thought. "That's not what you said ten years ago."

He cringed, "I know. I was wrong. I panicked and I hurt you. I've- I've been trying to get you back ever since."

"Get me back?" she shook her head slightly, anxiety growing in her stomach, "I've always been here."

Affection flooded his expression, lips parting as he inhaled sharply. "Riza?"

A lump grew in her throat, and she tried to swallow it down. Wetting her lips, she had to try twice before she could say it. "Roy."

He leaned forward, dark eyes flicking towards her lips, his mouth still parted slightly. He seemed to draw her, their lips grazing, causing her to inhale sharply. She reached for him, a hand going to his broad shoulder, holding on for support. He suddenly pushed more into the kiss, forcing her back to the bed as he climbed over her. She gasped, heat flushing through her as she realized her legs were already parted. She gave voice to a moan, bunching up her shirt and ripping it off of her arms before hooking them under his shoulders, pulling him closer.

He groaned against her mouth as their tongues began to wrestle, lowering himself so their naked chests were pressed together. He shifted his hand to her abdomen, grazing the bottom of one breast before dipping down, fingers pushing under the hem of her pants and underwear.

She gasped, lips breaking away from his as his fingers slid across her wet core. "Oh, god. Roy!" slipped from her lips involuntarily.

He laughed brightly, his chest rumbling with the sound. "Someone's wet! Mind if I help with that?"

He continued to stroke her slowly, causing her to burn from his touch, her unmet sexual needs from the night- no, years before rearing to an unrelenting head. "C-condom. You said..."

Voice dropping to a sultry tone, he growled, "I won't need one for this." He adjusted over her body as he began trailing kisses down from her throat to her navel, fingers shifting to rip off her remaining clothes. Without pausing to look, his mouth moved between her legs. Before she properly understood what was going on, a wet heat met her slit.

She gasped, shocked as fire roared through her body, her knees rising instinctively. She looked down, crying out "Roy!" His eyes opened as she said his name, Riza shocked at the light of satisfaction in his intense, charcoal orbs. "What are you...oh!" All protests died, her head knocking back, fingers curling desperately into the sheets.

She closed her eyes tightly as his hands moved across her hips and down her thighs, trailing fire through her skin. One hand shifted to join his mouth and pressed into her, Riza not sure how many fingers, but she bucked with the sensation.

It was too much. Between her need and the fact that it was him doing this to her, she couldn't hold back; and though he had just started, her body blossomed with her climax. She bit her lower lip, giving a cry of pleasure, her back arching off of the mattress.

He loitered a moment before his mouth pulled away from her as his fingers kept sliding in and out of her. His ebony eyes met hers, enamored. "Shit. I didn't even have to try."

"Get in me. Please," she begged, heedless of the risks. She'd waited too long for this, she couldn't settle halfway.

He looked startled, his jaw settling into a firm line as he hardened visibly. "No. I won't..." a knock from downstairs cut him off, both of their heads swiveling towards the open bedroom door.

"Who...?" Riza began as Hayate started barking wildly. His paws could be heard leaving the other room and scrambling down the wooden steps, his nails scratching the finish. She cringed at the sound, pushing herself up to her elbows.

"Stay here," he ordered, pushing off the bed and snatching his shirt from the night before off of the ground. Shoving his head and arms through the cloth, he closed the door behind him with a snap.

Exhaling heavily, she collapsed back to the mattress, staring up at the ceiling with wide eyes. "What just happened?" she whispered, mind swimming, her body cooling. "What am I doing? Married? He told Hughes that? Hughes wanted us to get married? Grumman wants it?"

For so many years, she'd longed for just a brush of romantic affection from him. A one night stand, another kiss, just a moment where she could be weak in his arms. But married? She hadn't allowed herself to even think of that since he'd burned her back. Marriage was so much bigger than what she'd dreamed. So much better.

So much more impossible.

A muffled set of voices interrupted her scattered and rambling thoughts, her hand digging through her hair to push her sweat slicked bangs back. One was clearly Roy's and the other was female... no, wait, two women... and a more rugged voice that didn't quite carry so far.

A feminine laugh tumbled through the air, penetrating the walls easily. "Roy!"

Trembling slightly from the residue of her orgasm and the shock of events, she forced herself up, swiftly pulling her pants back up from her ankles. She lighted out of the bed, digging through the sheets for her shirt and pulling it on over her head. She couldn't be here. She had to get out, before someone saw her.

There was a big problem, though: She was in her pajamas on the second floor.

She stepped lightly, reaching the door and easing it open. "...can't do your office for you, but a house is easy enough. Besides, you're shit at decorating." She knew that voice, though it had been a while since she'd given Ms. Mustang a call.

"Please, at least come by at a more reasonable hour. It's not even 0900," Roy groaned.

A shattering of glass came from the direction of the kitchen, a younger, more feminine voice giving a, "God damn it! Roy, where's your broom? I broke a bowl."

"We're here to help him, not ruin his stuff," another girl chided.

"This is when we're available, Roy-Boy. It's a weekend and we get pretty busy as early as noon," Chris grumbled.

"I'm not even dressed. Please, give me an hour to shower and have breakfast. I'll..."

"Roy, you said this was Elizabeth's dog, right?" the girl who had broken the bowl interrupted, heedless of his words.

"Yes..."

"Where is she? Why can't she have her dog with her?"

"Her apartment fell through. She's looking for a new place to rent."

She silently cursed herself. That's exactly what she should be doing. Not making out with her superior. Not letting him give her oral.

She exhaled softly, easing her way out of his room. Chris harrumphed as one of the girls began doting on Black Hayate with a stream of, "Who's a good boy? You're a good boy!"

"Vanessa, I can just fix that with alchemy. I don't want you cutting yourself," Roy's voice moved through the lower level. With the name, she could conjure a memory of a voluptuous blonde with wavy hair. One of the girls who worked at Christmas's Bar. They'd never had a proper conversation, but the woman had visited Roy occasionally in the office back during his Lieutenant Colonel and Colonel days.

They had a... history. The thought made her stomach churn sickeningly, insecurity flushing through her veins at the thought of him giving her oral.

Lips pursing in a scowl, she slinked across the hall and into the guest bedroom. She carefully closed the door behind her, noting she'd left the lamp on the night before. She glided over to it, turning it off and wincing with the click the switch made.

Grabbing her bag, she began pulling out her uniform pants and turtleneck. She'd never gotten her things from storage the day before with the apartment debacle, so this was what she had for the time being. She hastily began to change, leaving her uniform jacket off and holstering her four pistols without thought. Desert Eagle at her right hip, revolver under her right arm, and her two Glocks under her left arm and at the small of her back.

As she was pulling on her boots, hastily tucking her pants into them, the door opened a crack. "I'll stay out of your room if you insist, but I have to check if this guest room is up to par. I'll be staying in it occasionally, after all," Vanessa called.

Instinct kicked in. Riza abandoned her task, drawing her Desert Eagle and pointing at the door as it opened the rest of the way.

The woman from Riza's memory looked a little odd out of the sleek, low cut dresses she usually wore. Instead she was in a loose sweatshirt and jeans, her hair tied back to stay out of the way. Her big, round eyes focused on Riza, both women freezing.

Seconds ticked by, Riza noting each thumping, adrenaline rushed heartbeat in her chest. Roy had lied about her being here- well, Elizabeth, but it was possible she knew the codename. However this woman interpreted the information, she would demand to know why Roy's adjunct was getting dressed in his guest room.

Slowly, Vanessa raised her hands disarmingly, an eyebrow twitching slightly in incredulity. "Please lower the gun, Captain," she whispered, the sound barely traveling the distance between them.

In that moment, Riza's mind latched onto the fact that the woman knew her proper rank. The last time they'd seen each other, she'd still been a First Lieutenant. She didn't know what that meant, she just knew she'd been caught. They'd been caught.

They hadn't even properly slept together, and they'd already been discovered.

And Roy... Roy liked her.

She swallowed hard, lowering the gun, keeping her elbows locked. Vanessa relaxed, sighing in relief as she lowered her arms back to her sides.

"I'd like to see the guest room too," the other girl called, footsteps beginning to climb the stairs.

Vanessa's eyes flicked towards the stairs, instantly coming back to Riza. Her mouth formed the words, 'Your move.'

She only had a split second to react. She stood, gun still comfortingly held between her hands as she straightened her stance, jaw tight. "Good morning, Ms. Vanessa. You startled me. I didn't mean to pull my gun on you." With an effort, she reholstered her gun as a second woman appeared in the door. Slightly shorter with wavy, light brown hair, Riza recognized her as well, though she didn't know her name off hand. She started at the sight of Riza, lips parting.

"What are you doing here?"

Vanessa spared the other woman a glance, "Madeline."

"Excuse me, ladies. I'll be out of your way in a moment. I was planning on leaving shortly."

"To go look for an apartment," Vanessa supplied.

"Roy! Elizabeth has sex hair!" Madeline suddenly called, directing her words downstairs with a smirk.

Riza managed to resist the urge to touch her loose locks and blush, she could just imagine Roy choking on air at the announcement. Instead, she raised an eyebrow, aiming to look no-nonsense. "Sex hair?"

A quick set of steps climbed the stairs, Roy appearing on the other side of the door. He looked between the three women, expression careful. "Captain. I'm so sorry, I thought you had already left."

"It's fine," she said carefully, turning back to her bed. She neatly folded her pajamas, slipping them into her bag. "I was about to head out. Thank you for letting me borrow your spare room for the night, Sir."

"Of course. Any time," he reassured. "Perhaps you could give us a moment, ladies?" he prompted.

Madeline smirked between the two of them before she slipped back downstairs. Vanessa's expression was more guarded, odd for the usually flamboyant woman.

"Forgive my intrusion, it was unintentional," she offered before following after the other woman.

Roy turned his focus towards her, mouth opening. "Sir," she interrupted before he had the chance to say anything reckless or foolish. "I really should be going. Just give me a moment to tidy up and I'll head out."

"Would you like breakfast before you leave?"

She shot him a glare, "You should shower and dress, Sir. It looks like you have dried drool on the edge of your mouth," she informed briskly, turning away and beginning to fix the sheets, movements practiced from her time in the Academy. She knew all too well what had really dried on his face.

"Right..." he replied guardedly, lifting a hand to rub the edges of his mouth with little success. "You might want to brush your hair. It looks like you tossed and turned a lot last night. Was the bed uncomfortable?"

"I've slept on worse. Just some unusual dreams."

It was strange to be having this conversation, like it was coded, but there was nothing behind it. Just them both dancing around the truth to avoid eavesdroppers. The women downstairs were being oddly quiet.

She straightened from fixing the bed, grabbing her bag and swinging it over her shoulder. "Right. If you could feed Black Hayate," she proposed, standing awkwardly at the foot of the bed. He was blocking her way out, Riza unsure if that was intentional or not.

"Of course. Uh, do I need to get some food?"

She inhaled with the realization. She hadn't even had the chance to think about getting some more. She'd planned a trip to the store for some last night and that hadn't happened.

"Don't worry about it. I need groceries anyways," he rushed, reading her answer easily.

"Thank you, Sir." He remained unmoved, eyes desperate and eager. "Excuse me," she prompted, taking a step forward.

"Riza," his voice was hushed as he stepped towards her.

"Not now," she hissed, pushing past him. The brush of their arms sent a tingle up her spine. Ignoring it, she pushed forward, heading down the stairs and into the living room. Madeline and Vanessa weren't in sight, a slight shuffling and quiet murmurs coming from the direction of the kitchen told her where they'd gone, though. Leaning casually against the wall, hardly dressed for moving as the other girls had been, stood the fabulous as ever Christine Mustang.

"Hello Elizabeth," she greeted, her tone gruff.

"Ms. Mustang," she forced a smile and nodded her respect.

"I haven't heard from you in awhile. I was surprised when Roy-Boy called me a week or so ago, but not you."

Behind her, she could hear Roy's heavy footfalls as he slowly descended the stairs. "I'm not that hopeless, Madame," he chuckled.

"It's been hectic the last few weeks. I was planning on giving you a call this weekend, to give you my new number and such. But, as it turned out, right now I don't have a number."

"Hmm, I'm not surprised," Chris muttered.

"Excuse me?"

"So, dear. Did he treat you right?" Madame Christmas shifted the conversation without skipping a beat, leaving Riza trying to catch up.

"Chris," Roy growled.

"'Treat me'...? General Mustang was very kind to give me a place to stay," Riza answered evasively, worry rising in her chest. Chris's dark blue eyes didn't leave her, the woman's expression unchanged. The tense silence left Riza with a growing sense of discomfort, "Ms. Mustang?"

"You'll want to brush your hair before you leave, dear. I'd be glad to help, if you'll let me. Roy, go help the girls, won't you. Before Vanessa breaks all of your dishes."

"I need to go," Riza protested lightly as Roy obediently passed behind her, a sour look on his face as he headed to the kitchen.

Ms. Mustang stepped over to her, running a thoughtful hand through Riza's hair, taking a moment to fix it. "You don't have to say anything, dear. We won't break confidence, but I do have to ask: Was it consensual?"

Riza blinked, pulling back slightly. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"The oral," Chris whispered. "Don't ask how I know, it's part of the business. The girls can tell too. I know he doesn't keep condoms. I hope you kept it safe. Conception would be very bad in your situation."

Riza seized up, her eyes flicking down instinctively as her cheeks numbed, likely draining of color. How exactly was she supposed to keep her sex life private from a brothel mistress?

"I'm a virgin," Riza breathed, not able to meet her gaze.

"Oh, believe me, I knew that. He likely knows too. I can advise him..."

"Don't. It shouldn't have happened. It won't happen again. I need to go," Riza found the words tumbling from her as she tried to move past her. Christmas stopped her with a hand in the crook of her elbow.

"Roy-Boy's been beating himself up over the last decade because of how he treated you. He's not sleeping around, dear. The playboy cover is my invention, so he can use an information network I run without gathering suspicion. Well- the wrong kind, anyways. He loves you.

"Go. Do what you have to. Figure out what you want. If that happens to be him, we can help you keep it quiet. If not, he'll just have to deal with it. Though, I'd hate to see what that would lead to."

She released Riza's arm, moving past her towards the kitchen.

Riza pursed her lips, forcing herself out the door. Descending the porch stairs, the cool autumn air hit her like a blast. The sky was cloudy, but the gales from the night before had subsided to intermittent gusts.

Roy's little house wasn't terribly far from headquarters. She could go pick up that car her grandfather had given her and drive around looking for apartments.

She closed her eyes, feeling the quick and heavy thump of her feet on the sidewalk as she walked briskly away from Roy.

She was avoiding again. Avoiding the thought of what had just happened. What Chris and the girls knew. What she'd felt while he'd been touching her.

A shiver of pleasure ran across her skin with the memory, instantly followed by the leadened weight of duty. It shouldn't have happened.

What was she going to do now?

Friday, March 5, 1909

"This didn't happen. I'm sorry for violating you. My only excuse is I was inebriated..."

Her feet pounded on the concrete, her entire body thudding with her unusually heavy steps.

"It would have us in constant risk of being caught, and I have too much on the line to allow that!"

Her jaw was tight, her fists clenched. She couldn't stop the tears flooding down her cheeks, hot with shame and anger.

"Am I understood, Cadet?"

She wanted to shoot something. Her hellish months on the battlefield making the reaction instinctive. She longed to have her grip around a rifle stock, to feel the thunderous recoil against her shoulder. Unfortunately for her, it was after the Academy's gun range hours, and she didn't own her own firearms to take elsewhere.

She could still feel the softness of his lips against hers, the callouses on his hands touching her bare skin. She could taste the cigarettes and alcohol on his breath, the heat of his erection rutting against her crotch.

She huffed, body shuddering as she resisted turning the sound into a sob.

The numb patches of skin on her back made her flesh crawl. The brief pain of both burns returning as phantoms, searing her tattoo.

She'd wanted him. Not just physically, but emotionally, mentally, spiritually. Not just back in his apartment, but for years now. She couldn't put a timeframe on it. How could one count grains of sand, or stars in the night sky?

Hugging herself against the chilly night air, she swirled, lost in a sea of anger, pain, sorrow, loss, scorn, shame.

And loneliness.

He'd freed her from her father and his little, run down house. He'd enabled her by suggesting the Military Academy. He'd saved her from Kimblee and the curse of her father's tattoo.

He was her best friend and he'd shoved her aside.

She couldn't go to Chris, she was his aunt. She didn't want to go to Rebecca, she'd ask too many questions about things she didn't trust with anyone. She wished she could go to Mr. Bishara. The loneliness swelled more in her chest as she was resigned to the fact he'd likely been killed in Ishval. The sweet old man who'd sold her her mother's bouquets and who'd always had kind words didn't deserve that fate.

Brushing tears from her face, the cold air seemed to sink deeper into her soul. Looking up from the ground, she slowed her steps as she realized where she'd wandered to of all places. She swallowed hard as she looked up at the large, three story manor across the lawn. Several windows glowed with yellow, artificial light against the dim of night. Hugging herself tightly, she wrestled with the decision of knocking on the door or going back to the Academy barracks.

She hardly knew him. She'd only been to his home four times before. Twice for his birthday dinner the last three Novembers, and twice for Winter Solstice in the same amount of time.

It wasn't like he'd put a limit on her visits. In fact, she'd gotten the impression she was welcome any time. But what if he had visitors? What if they knew her. They'd both agreed it was best to keep their family connection quiet while she was associated with the Military.

Despite herself, she began walking down the driveway, shivering against the chilly night air. Why she'd forgotten a cardigan or coat was beyond her until she remembered she was used to the Ishvalan heat.

Reaching the porch, she hesitated before the wide mahogany door, a gold colored handle and complimenting knocker decorating the deep red wood. Stepping forward, she grabbed the knocker, awkwardly using it to announce her presence.

Stepping back, she waited for a long moment as her stomach began to knot. She shouldn't be here. It wasn't like she could talk to him about her troubles with Roy.

Inhaling sharply, she turned, ready to leave right as the door opened behind her.

"Miss Hawkeye?"

Her steps froze, her back straightening instinctively at the sound of that voice. Looking back, she found a familiar face. More wrinkled than when she'd first come to Harsten, her sandy hair was still pulled up into a tight bun, her attire still consisting of a pencil skirt and women's suit coat.

"Ms. Kent!" she jumped, turning back to the woman.

Her old Governess looked her up and down critically. "You forgot your coat. You'll get ill in this weather." She took a step back, opening the door wider for her. Glancing past her, Riza determined to go inside, her steps cautious as she passed Ms. Kent.

Her eyes rose to the chandelier above her head, a round, mahogany table in the middle of the entryway was decorated with a large bouquet of flowers. A curving set of stairs lead up on her right. The walls were decorated with old photographs of the now deceased Elizabeth, Sarah, and Fredrick Grumman. Her Grandfather left to outlive his wife and both of his children.

"Master Grumman is in the parlor. Follow me," Ms. Kent offered briskly, closing the door and moving past, her low heels clicking on the marble.

"Pardon me, but- why are you here, Ms. Kent?" Riza asked, not following her immediately.

Ms. Kent paused, turning her entire body to look at her, expression stoic. "I'm Master Grumman's Housekeeper. As such, I expect you remember how to address me here."

Blinking, she felt her cheeks heat, "Excuse me, Mrs. Kent."

She offered a curt nod, a subtle light of satisfaction in her eyes. "Now, come along, Miss Hawkeye."

This time she followed her, the opulent house so different from the world Riza had come from.

The Grummans had been a long line of Military men for generations, many achieved high ranks in the General categories. The high salary had been put aside to amass a small fortune. The house had been built by her great great grandfather and had been the Grummans' home for nearly ninety years now. Despite her family ties to the home, she could never see herself inheriting the place, though her grandfather had suggested it once. It was much too extravagant for her.

Ms.- no, Mrs. Kent led her back through to the parlor. A fire crackled in the mantle place, making her back crawl with the memory of her fresh burns. Her grandfather sat in an oversized armchair, hidden behind the evening edition of the newspaper. A glass of amber colored liquid sat on a coffee table, half drunken.

"Who was it, Alice? Another report from Headquarters?"

"No, Sir. Miss Hawkeye is here," her business-like tone was all too familiar, subtly causing anxiety to course through Riza's veins.

"Miss Hawk...?" he lowered the paper, looking over the top at them. "Riza!" he nearly jumped to his feet, sloppily discarding the paper on the coffee table. "What brings you here? Please, come in, come in!"

Mrs. Kent stepped aside as her grandfather came over, closing his red and black plaid robe over his gray pajamas and tying it in place. She glanced down to see his feet were covered with fluffy blue slippers. "Riza dear, can I get you something to drink? I'm having a scotch- but you don't usually drink alcohol. Tea? Coffee?" His arm gently wrapped around her waist, over her elbows to provide a bit of distance.

"No, I'm fine, Grandfather," she answered clearly despite the shyness tumbling in her chest, her body tensing with his touch.

He seemed to sense it, loosening his grip as he urged her towards a couch. "Alice, would you be so kind as to get her some tea? You like tea, yes?"

"I- please don't trouble yourself," she looked over her shoulder back at Mrs. Kent to find her already leaving the room. Her grandfather urged her to sit, taking up the cushion beside her. His entire body faced her with an attentive eagerness behind his violet eyes that was easy to read.

"Riza, what a pleasant surprise! To what do I owe the pleasure?" he asked, lightly touching her knee.

She met his gaze, chest constricting as she recalled Roy's harsh tone. Her gaze ducked to the paper evasively, not focusing on any of the words. She had to tell him something, though what she wasn't exactly sure. Opening her mouth, she took a preparatory breath, holding it for a prolonged moment before asking, "How long has Ms. Kent worked for you?"

He was quiet for a long moment before answering, "Some twenty years. I hired her about the time your grandmother's health began declining."

She let her gaze rise again, meeting his now worried expression, "Did you send her to Harsten too?"

He pulled his hand back from her knee, expression masked. He simply answered, "Yes."

Her eyes fell again, resisting the urge to hug herself. "You couldn't have sent someone kinder?"

"I figured her temperament would match your father's enough to keep you safe. That's also why I sent Mustang- to be a friend."

She inhaled sharply, giving in and wrapping her arms around herself. She felt her torso curl slightly, her knees pressed together and pulling up instinctively. She forced her feet back to the ground, not allowing her body to complete the fetal position. Her cheeks felt numb, her heart palpitating in her ears as she tried to steady herself.

"Riza?" She met his gaze, deep concern behind his glasses, "What's wrong?"

Her eyes stung and she closed them, trying to keep the tears at bay.

He stood up suddenly and she listened to his shifting clothes as he walked towards the doorway. His voice softly called out, "Alice, bring some ice cream... No, no tea... The carton's fine..."

A moment later, the click of Mrs. Kent's heels drew closer, stopping outside of the parlor. "I must say, Sir, I disapprove of this," her voice finally reached Riza, hushed and severe.

"Let me dote on my granddaughter, Alice. Thank you. Please give us some privacy for now, I'll call if we need anything else."

Her footsteps began clicking away, fading with distance. As her grandfather returned to the couch, she opened her eyes to find him carrying a cardboard box, frost lining the outside, and two spoons in hand.

Curious, she uncurled herself, relaxing in her seat again. "We've got to eat this before it melts everywhere, but I think we'll manage," he had a twinkle to his eyes as he sat down next to her again, peeling the lid open.

She'd heard of ice cream before, but she'd never eaten it. Ice boxes were a luxury she couldn't imagine and every time she saw an ice cream cart, it was always frequented by children on outings with their parents. She was afraid to try something that seemed to be for children when she was already an adult.

Inside the paper (not cardboard) box was a creamy white mass, the box half empty from previous uses. Her grandfather passed over a spoon, pulling the coffee table closer, he put the box between them, trying to dig his spoon into the ice cream, which looked fairly solid right now.

"I thought this was a children's treat," she confessed.

He looked at her, affronted. "Children's? Riza dear, if only children were allowed to have ice cream this would be a sad world indeed. Have you never had ice cream before?"

She hesitated, looking back at the box, "No, Sir."

"Well, I'm honored to be the one to correct that misdeed," he smiled, managing to get a chunk of ice cream on his spoon. He offered it to her and she hesitated.

Switching spoons with him, she began lifting it to her mouth before realizing she didn't know what to do with it. "Do I- chew it? Swallow it whole? Suck on it? I've seen people lick it, of all things."

"It depends on how soft it is. Straight out of the freezer like this, I'd suggest sucking on it as it softens. The more thawed it is, the creamer it gets. Then I'd lick it," he explained while digging out his own spoonful.

Taking that advice, she took the ice cream into her mouth. Cold and hard, she tasted the milky, sugary vanilla as it began to melt in her mouth...

And she was addicted.

Her eyes widened in awe as it grew creamier in her mouth, her skin prickling with delight. Her grandfather chortled and she met his amused expression as he took his own spoonful in his mouth. Swallowing the last of the melting cream, she gestured to the carton, "May I?"

Covering his mouth with one hand, he used the other to signal for her to keep going, "Please, be my guest!"

They continued for a few moments, Riza finding a giggle of delight on her fourth spoonful. She'd never eaten anything as scrumptious in her entire life, her body warmed with pleasure just before her brain suddenly burst with pain. Scrunching her face, she lifted a hand to her temples, rubbing her forehead in distress.

"Brain freeze," her grandfather commiserated. "Rub your tongue on the roof of your mouth, it sometimes helps."

She did so and after a moment the pain ebbed away. She shivered, pulling her arms close. He got up, fetching a blanket and unraveling it. He moved behind her, draping it over her shoulders as she curled in on herself again.

"There, I should have offered that sooner," he sat down again, watching her again. "Better?"

She looked down at her spoon, sensing the question wasn't about the cold. "Flame Alchemy. After Mother died, that's all my father cared about. If Ms. Kent was reporting back to you about my safety, she likely mentioned the bruises on my arms..." she met his eyes, only half questioning.

His grim expression was confirmation enough.

"Father would have these- frenzies after she died. He'd get this wild look in his eyes and grow jittery. If I found him during these times, he would grab my arms and shake me, spouting off chemical theorems or some advanced physics.

"One morning he found me while having one of these frenzies. He said he needed my help and ran off to get something. I- had a bad feeling, and when he came back, he drugged me..." she paused for a moment, settling into the confession. He edged the ice cream closer, watching her steadily. She took a scoop, her spoon digging in easier now that it had thawed. Slowly licking the spoon clean, she took a steadying breath. "I woke up to find he had- tattooed his completed research onto my back. It- covers from the nape of my neck to the small of my back. A transmutation circle, some encrypted equations and notes in Ishvalan. I could translate it, but I didn't have the chemical and physical knowledge to understand it.

"He told me it was my responsibility to decide who was worthy of Flame Alchemy. That he wouldn't teach it to anyone. After he died- I showed it to- Major Mustang." The crackling fire in the grate filled the silence, her grandfather's eyes never leaving her. His expression was clear, his eyes focused.

Lowering her voice to a whisper, she continued, "On the front, I- I was sexually assaulted by a State Alchemist." His fingers gripped his knee suddenly, the only visible reaction he gave. "Major Mustang and his friend, Captain Hughes, intervened, but I realized how fragile a hiding place my skin was. If he had seen the array, there'd be a second Flame Alchemist. After seeing the devastation it could cause in Ishval, I knew I had to- destroy it, somehow.

"I- asked Mustang to deface my back. He agreed- reluctantly. That's where I was before coming here. After he-" she swallowed hard, "did it and healed me, we got into an argument, and he made it clear that he valued his position in the Military more than our relationship," her voice trembled slightly, tears beginning to fall from her eyes again.

"I- don't know what to do. He- he was my best friend, and- and now- I'm so alone," she sobbed, her body trembling as she gave into her grief. Despite her discomfort with physical touch, she found herself throwing her arms around him, hiding her face against his chest.

He started in surprise, his body lean and firm under his clothes, nothing like the spindly frame she'd thought he had. Slowly, he wrapped his arms around her, rubbing her back comfortingly, the feeling odd as it came in and out of her senses. "Oh, my dear Riza," he offered gently, saying nothing else and letting her cry it out.

He asked nothing. Not who had assaulted her, nor how much of her back Roy had burned. Not what the argument was about, nor what she was going to do about it. When her tears finally dried, all he softly murmured was, "It's past your curfew."

She shuddered, pulling back and seeing the clock over the mantle, hands pointing to 10:08. Shuddering again, she pushed herself to her feet. "Excuse me, Sir. I need to head back to the barracks."

"Right, you do. I'll give you a ride," he stood up, moving past her.

Following, she offered a light protest, "It's my fault I'm late, Sir. I'll face the consequences fairly."

"My dear girl," he paused before a key rack, taking a set and pocketing it. "You were burned tonight, physically and emotionally, by no fault of your own. I believe you've been through enough for now and that's that."