Originally Published: April 15, 1915
Last Edited: April 5, 2022
Thank you all for reading and for the reviews, follows, and favorites! I hope you enjoy this chapter!
Chapter 14
A Pair of Miracles
Monday, September 16, 1918
Riza resisted the urge to wrinkle her nose at the putrid scent wafting from the tea bag as she dropped it into her steaming cup. Vanessa's instructions had encouraged having some with every meal, but to avoid adding honey, sugar, or even milk to the concoction. The result was a watered down, swampy flavor Riza could do without for the rest of her life. In the meantime, she was supposed to have it continuously for the next two weeks.
A tray thumped down on the desk diagonal from hers, Riza glancing up to see Rebecca collapsing into her seat. "Ugh! I'm so glad that's over with," she groaned, picking up her spoon and beginning to taste her soup.
Riza would acknowledge the first two thirds of the day had dragged on, the promotions ceremony far from brief with the amount of officers ranking up. Lunch had been pushed back and after her pitiful breakfast of one slice of toast, she had worked up quite an appetite. That, added to the lack of sleep both she and Roy had had the night before, made for short tempers and weary moods between the two of them, affecting their entire work dynamic.
But that was drivel. Inconvenient, but she was used to pushing herself physically. No, the promotion took more of her concern.
Major Hawkeye.
How her father would seethe if he were alive to see her now. A phantom ache returned to her arms, Riza pausing as she stared down at her sleeve. Now that was a feeling she hadn't had in a very long time. The thought of it being a common one as a teenager cloaked her in isolated gloom.
"So," Rebecca's voice lowered as she leaned closer, her breasts nearly tipping her soup over. "How was it?"
"I don't know what you're talking about," Riza dismissed, picking up her fork and cutting into her chicken. "You were there. Your description of the monotony was adequate."
"Not that!" Rebecca hissed, reaching out and grabbing Riza's wrist. She paused in lifting her fork to her mouth, glancing from Becca's hand to her face cautiously, the memory of her bruises making her chest tighten. "I'm talking about last night. Don't think I didn't notice the bags under both of your eyes today. And he didn't even shave!" to emphasize her subtext, she wiggled her eyebrows, a suggestive smile on her lips.
Riza's expression grew stony, "Really, Captain?" Riza dashes her new rank in just to remind her where they were. The Staff Office would only temporarily remain empty as the rest of the Team were bringing their lunches to their desks as well. Roy was already in the adjacent office, door open and focused on his work, food forgotten on the side of his desk. "I didn't sleep well because I had a lot on my mind."
"Like his cock," Rebecca murmured under her breath.
"What are we talking about?" Maria's pleasant and all too welcomed voice broke in as she stepped into the office, sitting down at her desk next to Riza's.
"Promotions," Riza lied, grabbing her tea and hesitating as she whiffed the smell. She forced herself to sip it anyway, careful to keep distaste from her face.
"Riza had an exciting time at the bar on Friday," Rebecca supplied, "She got a little intimate with another patron. What was his name again, Ri?"
"Rebecca," Riza warned, her grip tightening on her cup. Her gaze flickered to Roy's door, catching his eyes as he peered over the rim of his glasses.
"You went to a bar? I would have liked an invite. I haven't had a night out in ages," Maria managed to say it lightly, but Riza caught a slight hint of disappointment in her voice.
"We'll make sure you get invited to the next one," Riza placated, shooting Rebecca a glare.
"Of course! It was impromptu or we would have loved to have you!"
Maria smiled with their reassurances, "Well, do tell. Who was this person you got so comfortable with?"
Riza's cheeks heated, letting Rebecca spew her story, making sure to memorize the details if it came up later. "He was tall, a little shorter than Havoc and Falman, but certainly taller than Mustang. He had some really sexy looking hair. You know, the perfect amount of wavy that it falls right into place. Nice stubble and a square jaw. His eyes were... wait, Riza, what color were his eyes? I didn't get close enough to see."
Riza blinked, looking between them. Her ears and chest began to burn with her cheeks as she ducked her head slightly. "Dark," like the midnight sky. She could image the way Roy's eyes shone as he held her close, affectionate and cherishing, with a hint of joyful disbelief at his own luck.
Maria gave a low whistle, "Damn, you have it bad."
"It was just a fling," Riza dismissed, glancing back at Roy again. He'd straightened slightly, a gentleness to his tired face as he watched her, out of sight from the other ladies. She sipped her tea distractedly, not having mentally prepared herself for the earthy taste, she grimaced in response.
"They were all over each other! I don't think I've ever seen Riza that into someone before. They were kissing right at the bar! How is your hickey healing, by the way?"
Riza subconsciously lifted her hand to her throat, "I wish you hadn't seen that," she murmured, turning back to her food.
"They left together. I had to pick her up the next morning from a hotel!"
"Rebecca," Riza snapped, "I would appreciate it if we stopped this conversation. We are at work."
Rebecca pouted but turned back to her soup. "But- Riza, I've never known you to sleep around before. Do you- do you think this will actually go somewhere?" Maria prodded, expression hopeful.
"I don't know," she answered flatly.
"Well, what's his name?"
Riza panicked with the question, keeping her face serene as she lowered her cup. "James." If Roy's codename for her could be her mother's name, then his codename could be his father's. She resisted the urge to glance in his office yet again, her heart racing.
"Did you get his number?" Rebecca asked, playing into the story far too convincingly.
"How about that man who was giving you so much attention? Did you get his?" Riza shot back.
"Ladies!" Sheska suddenly scurried into the office, dropping her food on her desk directly across from Riza's. A blush colored her face under her wide rimmed glasses. "I need your help!"
"What's wrong?" Maria instantly lowered her utensils, everyone's focus turning to the small woman.
"I- Kain- I mean, Lieutenant Fuery..."
"Is he alright?" Riza demanded, hand falling to her Desert Eagle as she half stood from her seat.
"He asked me out!" she squeaked, her blush growing across her entire face. "For Friday night. I- I haven't been on a date since I was a teenager. What should I do? What do I wear?"
Adrenaline faltering, Riza sunk back into her chair, easing her pistol back into its holster. At her feet, Hayate had also jumped up, likely in response to Riza reaction and Fuery's name. With her relaxing and no sight of his rescuer, he settled back down as well.
"You told him 'yes', I take it?" Maria asked, "If you didn't, then that's the first thing you should do."
"Awh!" Sheska jumped out of her seat, looking horrified. "I didn't! I'll be back!"
As she scurried away, Maria chuckled lightly. "Looks like everyone's getting a bit of action. How do I get in on this?"
"Major Hawkeye, a word," Roy's tone was flat and authoritative, Rebecca and Maria both jumping at the sound. They must have not realized he was there.
Standing, she grabbed her tea cup, "Get to work, Captains. We have a lot of paperwork to catch up on," she ordered as she rounded her desk, stepping into Roy's office and closing the door behind her.
"Sir?" she asked, crossing over to his desk, glancing down at the sheet he was working on.
"What was that? Some story about you sleeping with a bar patron?" he kept his voice low, raising a brow at her.
"Apparently she decided to go with my cover story on the hickey," Riza sighed, sipping her tea absently and shuddering at the taste.
"James?" he prodded.
"Elizabeth," she challenged in return. "You need to eat, Sir. I know what you had for breakfast."
A smirk quirked on his lips, "Are you offering?"
"Where are we?" she reminded, raising an eyebrow at him.
His expression faltered and he turned his attention back to his paperwork. "We're going to be here late tonight. I'd appreciate your help in getting some of the grunt work properly delegated across all departments, not just the senior staff and the Team. How Grumman managed all those chess matches with this work load is beyond me."
"I'll add it to my priority list, Sir," she clipped.
"Keep an eye on Sheska and Fuery this week. If their work quality degrades, I'll need to have a word with them."
"Weren't you also going to talk with Havoc and Catalina about their behavior on Thursday night?" She reminded.
"Shit... as soon as Havoc gets here, send them both in. I'll make it quick."
"Is there anything else, Sir?"
He glanced up at her, his eyes scanning her body unnecessarily. A heat flushed through her with the attention, the memory of him licking under her jaw and her legs turning to jelly in response made her ears burn. "No, but it looks like you might have something."
She cleared her throat, her clothes feeling uncomfortably tight as she fished for something, anything to replace the straight shot of arousal now stirring in her veins. "We haven't had any combat training in a few months. With a new member of the Team, I'd like to prioritize adding that to the schedule within the next two weeks."
He blinked, looking down at his paperwork as if lost. "Um, sure. I'd be glad for the practical too. You know my schedule better than I do."
"Thank you, Sir. I'll fill out the proper forms," she offered, turning and stepping back to the door.
"Of course. Thank you- Major..." he added belatedly as she opened the door, stepping out to find everyone present except Sheska. Fuery was notably red faced, Hayate at his feet and trying to offer comfort as Breda murmured some reassuring words to him.
"She's just shy. She was probably blindsided by you asking her."
"Yeah, she seemed really excited when she was here a few minutes ago. She ran off to go tell you 'yes', I'm sure of it," Rebecca added, her brow furrowed in concern.
Oh dear. "Havoc, Catalina, the General would like a word with you both," she announced, feeling bad about interrupting Kain's crisis.
Jean and Rebecca both looked at her in surprise, hesitating with the instructions. "Now," Roy barked behind her, loud enough for them to hear. "Major, I'd like you present for this," he added in a more neutral tone.
Blinking, she looked back at him, "Sir?"
His eyes flicked up from her waist, a subtle and brief blush coloring his cheeks pink. Had he been checking her out? "Disciplinary," he mouthed.
She glanced back at Havoc and Rebecca as they nervously stood up. Riza stepped back, holding the door open for them as they entered.
Roy put his pen to the side, pulling his glasses off and rubbing at his eyes. "Sit down, let's get this over with."
Riza closed the door before moving to stand to the left of Roy's desk. She sipped at her tea, nearly gagging this time as Rebecca and Jean apprehensively sat on opposite couches. "I've already had Fuery check this room for bugs on Friday, we should be able to talk freely in here," Roy prefaced.
"After a weekend with no staff on site?" Riza questioned.
"The only staff with keys are you, me, and Sheska. I made sure of that," Roy replied. "Sit down, Ri," he prompted again.
"I'd rather not, Sir," she emphasized, looking sideways at him.
"You could always pull her into your lap," Rebecca suggested gleefully.
Roy instantly reddened, Riza's own cheeks prickling with heat at the suggestion. "That would be inappropriate," Roy deflected, turning his attention to the two Captains.
"Why?" Jean challenged. "We know about you, you know about us, and we all know how good Fuery is at sweeping a room."
"Jean, shut up," Rebecca hissed, her brown eyes flashing between Riza and Havoc.
"What?" he protested defensively.
Riza pursed her lips, lifting her cup and forcing down the remainder of the tea. "I expect you two to support our privacy as we will support yours. That would include keeping such remarks limited, even in private settings," Roy explained tightly. "Riza and I have agreed to keep physical touch strictly out of our work relationship. Am I understood?"
"Yes, Sir," Jean mumbled, Rebecca simply turning red in response.
"Officially, you're both in here to receive a reprimand for your behavior at the Gala. Since I personally approve of your relationship, that's all I say on the matter," Roy announced.
Grateful to have the tea gone, Riza lowered the cup, "If I may?" she glanced at Roy, who nodded absently, picking up his glasses again and slipping them on. One good thing about the monotony of the promotions ceremony was she'd been given a few good hours to think on her housing predicament. "Rebecca, you have a two bedroom apartment, correct?"
Rebecca blinked, glancing between Roy and Riza before nodding, "Yeah. I got the second room for storage."
"Would you be willing to keep a few of my things in the spare room? A bed, some clothes, and some toiletries? There may be nights I can't be seen at the General's house."
"Of course. I mainly need the closet space and extra dressers, but I can keep a drawer or two empty for you."
Riza braced herself, setting the tea aside, "Could I put your address on my legal documents? Pay stubs, emergency off duty contact information, et cetera."
"Oh... yeah. You can't put the General's, can you? Of course."
"This request might be a bit more inconvenient," Riza continued, "But every night would you be willing to leave work with me, take my new car, drop me off at the General's house, and keep the car at your apartment? And in the mornings pick me up again?" she added, glancing at Roy, his eyebrow raised in surprise.
"Do I get to drive it?" Rebecca teased, folding her arms under her breasts.
"Anytime you want. Honestly, it can be yours in everything but name. I don't need or want it."
"Why not just keep the car yourself?" Jean asked.
"You saw her car, it's way too flashy," Rebecca dismissed before leaning closer to him, covering her mouth and loudly whispering, "Don't ruin this for me, this is my only chance of driving a sports car regularly."
Riza felt a smile tugging at her lips, "Thank you, Rebecca. That should really help us out."
"So, you're going to live together? I guess that makes sense, you have known each other a really long time," Rebecca mused, lifting a finger to rest on the side of her chin.
"Becky didn't want to risk it," Jean grumbled, digging in his pocket for a pack of cigarettes before pulling them out. "Didn't stop you from finding out though, Hawkeye."
"I told you before, Riza always schedules things unless they're an emergency. This just happened to be an emergency," Becca insisted.
Roy lifted a hand to his temple, the edge of his eyes pinching as he massaged the spot.
"Perhaps it's been long enough we can all go back to work?" Riza suggested.
Roy glanced up, "Right. Just- look properly scolded when you go out."
Jean got up first, moving to the door, "I'm not saying it wasn't, I just want to know how we can avoid those sorts of things in the future."
"Later," Rebecca hushed as they opened the door, stepping out.
Riza turned her attention fully to Roy, noting the tension in his shoulders and the continued strain to his eyes. Quietly she stepped through the room and into the Staff Office.
Sheska had returned, Riza not missing the blushes on hers and Fuery's cheeks and the short, furtive glances they shot to each other when they thought no one was looking. Everyone else had their noses buried in paperwork, Havoc and Catalina taking their seats to join them.
Vulcan glanced up at her entrance, eyes flicking towards the door and back at her in silent questioning. She offered him a curt nod before moving to the coffee maker, pulling out a filter and some grounds. She meant to have a cup herself (Vanessa hadn't said anything about avoiding other drinks after that awful moss soaked tea) and get one for Roy as well.
Leaving the water to heat and percolate, she moved to her desk. Sitting down, Riza was surprised to find a note on top of her papers, Rebecca's bubbly handwriting easily identifiable.
Picking it up, she read, Girls shopping trip to help Sheska buy an outfit for her date with Fuery! Thursday night, right after work.
Riza looked up at Rebecca, her eyes wide in anticipation. She quickly pointed towards Sheska and Maria, nodding her head emphatically. Riza hesitated, fishing through her mind for any reason she might not be able to make it. Thinking of nothing, she nodded her head in agreement.
She could use some new civvies herself.
Sunday, May 2, 1915
"Good morning," a feminine voice called, boots entering the room. Roy turned his face towards the door, his legs crossed as he sat on his mattress. Fuery was somewhere to his ambiguous right, the occasional sound of a page turning letting Roy know he was still there.
Maria Ross's pleasant timbre was becoming more familiar by the day as she spent hours on end guarding Roy and Riza from any potential threats. "Lieutenant Ross, it's good to see you," Riza's voice held a warmth, likely smiling, though Roy couldn't see it. He imagined it, briefly, taking a sense of comfort from the visual. "Sergeant Brosh? What are you doing here?"
"Hey," the man sounded uneasy, Roy not terribly familiar with his voice. Brosh... Brosh... Brosh... He couldn't even come up with a face. Who was this soldier? Roy tensed slightly, his jaw clenching. "I- was hoping for a word with Colonel Mustang," the man answered, Roy feeling an unseen gaze directed at him.
He narrowed his eyes slightly, wishing he could receive visual cues from Hawkeye or Fuery. Cautiously, he responded, "Sergeant Brosh, do I know you?"
"No, Sir. We've never spoken before," he confirmed.
Roy shifted in bed, straightening slightly as the sheets tugged under his legs. He winced with the pressure he applied on his palms while moving, the twin scars aching. "What can I help you with, Sergeant? Not that I can do much in this condition."
"Lieutenant Ross mentioned you're not leaving the Military."
"Potentially. It depends on whether Dr. Marcoh can restore my sight or not. Until then, the Military Council and the Veterans Board are fighting over me like I don't have a say in my own future. No matter what happens, though, I have every intention of following through with a project to restore Ishval and its people. What happened there was a heinous crime that must be rectified."
A silence followed his words, a surge of determination flowing through his veins as he stiffened his back. After a few long moments, a scoff came from Brosh's direction.
"Is something funny, Sergeant?" Roy growled, fingers curling into fists, his palms protesting.
"Excuse me, Sir. It's just that a week ago I thought you were the scum of the Military. Now you're giving an impassioned speech about humanitarian work. It's just a bit hard to swallow."
"Scum of the Military? Quite an opinion to have against someone you've never met before," Roy relaxed slightly, his pulse throbbing in both palms.
"An opinion formed under the belief that you brutally murdered Lieutenant Ross, Sir," a pause filled the air with his statement, Roy sensing a change in the room.
"Now you know that isn't the case, what is your opinion currently? Why come to me while I'm still receiving medical treatment? Why come to me at all?"
There was a slight click, Roy far too familiar with the sound to mistake it. Brosh had shifted to attention, his boots causing the distinct sound. "Colonel Mustang, Sir," he began in a proper, projected voice. "I request to be transferred to your personal unit, Sir."
A surprised sound came from Fuery's direction, the man apparently not as absorbed in his book as Roy had been led to believe. Roy lowered his chin, sightless eyes narrowing skeptically. "You just admitted to having strong feelings against me, why would I let you join my Team?"
"Sir, to be direct, I hated your guts. Pardon me for it, but I believed you had killed an honorable and dear companion of mine. To discover she was alive and well because of your efforts channeled that hatred into a deep admiration.
"I wish to- to make amends, Sir. I want to repay you for sparing the life of my partner and giving her a second chance in the Military. I owe you a great debt, Sir."
Ross gave a slight sound, almost humored, but more bemused. "I tried talking him out of it, Sir. This is my debt to repay and I'm glad to do it."
Roy shifted towards her, a thoughtful frown furrowing his brow. Whatever these two's relationship was, it was clearly close. The pang of losing Hughes echoed back to him, the pain and anger to know his friend had been murdered. Was that what it had been like for Brosh? Had he desired revenge disguised as justice, the same way Roy had? Consumed by hate and bloodlust to avenge his friend? What if, at the end of his search for vengeance, he'd found Hughes alive and safe? The idea was preposterous, but the feeling it elicited was powerful. He could imagine, if only an infinitesimal amount, the gratitude Brosh must be feeling.
"Lieutenant Ross."
"Sir," Ross clipped in reply.
"You brought him here, what are your thoughts?"
"Brosh and I have been partners for three years, Sir. He's honest, caring, and reliable. I trust him with my life. He does happen to wear his emotions on his sleeve though. That's why I didn't want Major Armstrong to tell him I was alive." The affectionate warmth of her voice turned away from him while speaking, Roy ascertaining she was looking at Brosh. Brosh gave an embarrassed laugh in response.
"I don't know you," Roy reiterated, facing Brosh's direction again. "I'm already determined to take Ross on if I'm allowed to stay in the Military... What's one more? I could always use genuine people, Sergeant."
Roy stuck his hand out into the void. There was a long pause before a warm, calloused hand took his, gripping gently over Roy's bandages. "Sir," Brosh voiced, closer than before.
"Your name, Sergeant?"
"Denny, Sir. Denny Brosh."
Roy nodded, releasing his hand and lowering his arm. A knock came from the direction of the door, Roy turning to face it. Before anyone could respond, the door swung open, bumping the wall with a thud. Rushed, high heeled steps came in.
"Riza!" the woman sounded out of breath, Roy surprised to recognize it as Rebecca Catalina. This breathless greeting had been common from the Lieutenant whenever she'd come to the office to gossip with Hawkeye back at Eastern Headquarters.
"Lieutenant Catalina!" Falman protested, his booted steps following her into the room. "You can't just burst in here. The Colonel is..."
"Oh, shut it, Falman! This is important. Riza, have you read the Central Times this morning?" Catalina demanded, her steps moving further to Roy's left. He grimaced, disapproving of her rash behavior, but knowing her, Falman didn't stand a chance at stopping her whirlwind.
"No, I haven't," Riza replied coolly, "Should I have?"
There was a sudden crinkling of newspaper, the neighboring mattress groaning under Rebecca's added weight.
"'Grumman for Fuhrer. In a press conference last night, the remainder of the Military Council [not connected to the coup d'état] announced their choice for King Bradley's replacement in the Fuhrer seat: Lieutenant General Michael Grumman (81). Grumman has been in command of the Eastern Military forces for twelve years.
"'In an interview with Brigadier General Levi Pratcher (53), he states, 'The command structure [of the Military] has been gutted due to Friday's events. With Colonel Mustang's initiative to protect and serve the People of Amestris, he was the first choice. Unfortunately, due to his current condition, taking on Fuhrership isn't an option for him right now. Mustang suggested Lieutenant General Grumman and we couldn't agree more with the decision.'
"'Colonel Roy Mustang (30) was severely injured...' yada yada ya... They still haven't revealed what's wrong with you to the public," she added offhandedly, Roy frowning in response. He didn't know if the deception was Breda's propaganda at work, or if it was the Military Council trying to keep it all quiet. He wouldn't press the issue until they tried restoring his eyesight. If the philosopher's stone failed.
"'But what about Grumman?'" Rebecca continued dismissively. "'A seasoned Military man, Grumman has been serving Amestris for more than six decades. Most men his age have long retired to a cottage in the country.
"'Central Times had the chance to ask the Fuhrer-to-be about his decision to continue his service. His reply, 'You'll find most people retire to spend time with their families. Unfortunately for me, all of my family has preceded me in death by more than ten years. My sole living relative is my granddaughter. If I have any hope of spending time with her, it's in the Military.'
"'Grumman then revealed his quiet relationship with said granddaughter, First Lieutenant Riza Hawkeye!'"
Roy stiffened, suddenly understanding why Catalina had burst in without any preamble.
The bed groaned under his subordinate as she moved, "What?"
"They have a whole column on you! Your military record, your service to Bradley over the last six months, your birthday. They're painting you to be the darling of Amestris!"
"Is this true, Lieutenant Hawkeye?" Fuery asked, his voice cracking slightly.
"What? I get the Amestrian Journal, or I would have told you," Falman rushed.
"Why would Grumman do this? I know he has a reputation of mischief, but this could endanger your life," Ross added.
"Quiet!" Roy barked. Thankfully, his men obeyed, Roy sensing the attention of the room shifting to him. "Ross, I need you to go to the train station. Breda should be there to pick up Havoc. I want them here on the double. Breda might be able to get into contact with the other papers and the radio stations before this explodes in our faces. Falman, go down to reception and let them know no reporters or journalists are allowed to visit the Lieutenant. Do you have our shortlist of approved visitors?"
"Yes, Sir," Falman snapped.
"Good, make sure the receptionists have the list as well. Fuery, I need you to sweep the room for any bugs again. Anything brought in: cards, flowers, books, individuals, they're all suspect."
"Yes, Sir," the Master Sergeant clipped, a slight rattle coming from his stool as he stood up swiftly.
"Brosh, do you have a weapon on you?"
"Uh, no, Sir," Brosh answered, his voice still foreign.
"Do you at least know hand-to-hand?"
"It's not my specialty, but I could stop someone from getting in, if that's what you need, Sir."
"It'll have to do until someone else gets back to assist you. You're on guard duty while we handle this situation. Catalina," he turned his attention towards the unseen bed to his left. "Could you contact Grumman and request his presence here?" he asked. He intentionally asked because Rebecca Catalina could be pricklier than a cactus. Hopefully she wouldn't give him issues about this. It was for Riza.
She still hesitated, the other soldiers beginning to move now they had been given their orders, padded boots making their way out the door with quick steps. "Catalina?" he pressed, unable to gage her reaction.
"I know why you're asking me," she finally replied, her voice surprisingly unsteady, "I'm- just uncomfortable with the idea."
No respectful 'Sir'. He frowned at her lack of formality as well as her response. "You're uncomfortable talking with your direct C.O.? You've been working under Grumman for nearly three years."
The other bed creaked slightly, "Rebecca, what's wrong?" Riza prodded gently.
"I- I've been uncomfortable around Grumman for the last few months. I can make the phone call, but I'd prefer not to be here when he arrives."
Roy frowned, but nodded. "Of course, Lieutenant," he agreed, a soft sound coming from Roy's right. He swiveled his head, tensing with the unknown.
"That's Fuery, Sir," Riza informed him with a dry tone. "Let me walk with you, Rebecca. It's not that far to the phones..."
"No! You stay here and rest. I'll come back with his reply," Catalina insisted, the neighboring bed creaking before her heeled feet began clicking across the tile floor swiftly.
Riza sighed as the door closed again, Roy turned towards her, grimacing. "Do you know why she seemed so uncomfortable?"
"No, Sir. She hasn't told me anything."
"Would you mind trying to find out? If there's something going on that I can help with..." he couldn't believe he was offering. Catalina loved rubbing him the wrong way. He knew why he offered, though: for Riza.
"I'll try to talk with her in private," Riza agreed, a hint of gratitude in her tone.
"So, Lieutenant, are you really General Grumman's granddaughter?" Fuery's voice came from near the floor, traveling quietly along the length of the room.
She sighed, "I didn't meet him until I was in the Academy, but yes."
"Wow. Your grandfather is going to be Fuhrer. How does that feel?" Fuery awe was clear, Roy scowling at the sound.
"Honestly? I didn't care until this article," Riza answered sourly, the crinkle of the newspaper coming demonstratively. "Ross is right, this poses a security risk, Sir. I may soon be swarmed by bodyguards."
Roy clasped his hands together, pressing the pad of a thumb against that pesky, throbbing pain in the center of his forehead. A week ago he would have laughed at the concept. Riza needing bodyguards? Ridiculous.
The memory of her lying in a pool of blood derailed that old way of thinking. "Is that such a bad thing?" he asked softly.
A silence fell over the room, Roy holding his breath for Riza's response. "Sergeant, would you please give us a moment?" she finally requested, her voice tight. Fuery was quick to obey, his steps rushed as he exited the room, leaving them alone. Roy tensed, sensing the argument to come.
"Sir," she clipped, "do you really believe me to be so incompetent?"
"That's not what I said," he protested levelly.
"I can protect myself," she snapped back. "I've made it a point to be able to do so."
"I have no doubt about that, Lieutenant."
"Then why are you okay with this?"
"Maybe because I almost lost you," he looked in her direction, desperate to see her, but the Truth had taken that simple reassurance from him.
"In my time in the Military, how often have I been incapable of defending myself?"
"Three times," he answered without hesitation. "Twice in the last year."
She was silent for a long moment, "I can only think of once," she whispered.
"Kimblee, the Third Laboratory, the Fuhrer candidates," he ticked off on his fingers.
"Those don't count," she huffed.
He raised an eyebrow at that, "Which ones, Lieutenant? Last week we were both physically overwhelmed by men with combat skills near Bradley's caliber. At the Third Laboratory, by your own confession and Alphonse's confirmation, you became emotionally unstable when Lust told you I was dead. And Kimblee..." he cut off, a lump rising in his throat. He looked away, not that he could see her. "I'm glad that fucking bastard's dead.
"I'm not saying you need bodyguards, Lieutenant. I'm just saying, as your friend, would it really hurt to have someone watching your back when I can't?"
"I do, Sir. The Team. Black Hayate. The Elrics." He grimaced, pulling at his blankets as he began climbing under the covers, laying back down. "I'm not the fifteen-year-old girl you left when joining the Academy, Sir," she added in a softer tone.
He lay down, the sub-par pillow giving a little fwump with his landing. "I know that. If security really offends you, just tell Grumman. But I doubt I'm the only one who worries about your safety, Hawkeye. Now, I'd like a nap before anyone comes back."
Riza gently pulled her sweater closer, the pink knit rubbing against her neck bandage almost threateningly. Her eyes were glued to the newspaper in her lap. She'd opened up to the article on her, reviewing the contents. Though everything was technically correct, the journalist had seemed to romanticize her life story until it felt foreign. A humble youth in a small Eastern town. A proper education and upbringing despite her mother's premature death. Accolades from the Academy. Honors from her Military service. A Military Lady to be admired and adored.
Riza stared at the picture of herself, a professional shot of her at her graduation ceremony. Short hair disguised by her cap, dress uniform and Warrant Officer insignias on her shoulders. She remembered posing for it, shoulders back, face sober. She even had a copy buried somewhere at home.
Her eyes shifted right, looking at Roy's sleeping form in the bed next to hers. Part of her had to acknowledge his words as true, especially after the months being haunted by Selim. She could use a reprieve from jumping at shadows- except her only relief from that was Roy.
His face twitched slightly, a distressed expression twisting his mouth. He'd been having a lot of nightmares during their stay and she didn't blame him. She'd been having a lot herself. When Roy had held her last night, she had had her best sleep in months.
She was tempted to return the favor. To go over and hold him. To ease his dreams as he'd unintentionally done for her the night before.
The knowledge of the Team's close proximity kept her at bay.
She braced herself for the uncomfortable questions bound to come from her friends and the hospital staff. How long had she known? Why had she kept it a secret? What was she going to do now that it was out?
She sighed softly, leaning back against her pillow. She just wanted Roy's firm arms wrapped around her again, his warm breath dusting her skin. The only thing that could have made it better was if the strong scent of antiseptic didn't drown out his incendiary aroma.
A knock came at the door.
Riza tensed, shoving her hand under her pillow, gripping her Desert Eagle. Mustang jerked in the neighboring bed, sitting up and looking around wildly, his clouded eyes finding nothing.
Riza slipped out of her bed, clasping her gun in both hands as she stepped between the Colonel and the opening door.
A familiar gray and bald head poked into the room, round glasses gleaming. "Riza, dear! I'm sorry to startle you," Grumman pushed the rest of his way into the room, a comforting smile under his mustache.
Her gun jerked downward, her body washing with exhaustion as her brief adrenaline kick failed to loiter and her limbs seemed to liquify. She slumped back, her rear landing roughly on Roy's firm mattress, the bed creaking in protest.
"General Grumman?" Roy voiced, lifting a hand to rub his eyelids. "Hawkeye, is that you?"
"Yes, Sir," Riza answered instinctively, her arms shaking slightly. Her eyes locked onto Grumman, noting the concern in his expression. "General, what brings you here?"
"Is it so wrong of me to want to visit my granddaughter in the hospital?" he glanced back, waving back a bodyguard as he stepped further in, closing the door behind him.
It had been nearly a week since the Promised Day and though Grumman had visited twice before, it was to discuss with Mustang about Military infrastructure. He'd politely acknowledged Riza's presence, but had kept calling her Lieutenant in front of the Team, focused on Roy instead.
"You haven't before," she kept her voice cool, careful to keep any accusation out of her tone. The memory of his kindness after Roy burned her back left her conflicted in this vulnerable situation.
Grumman glanced at her bed and the newspaper left on top of the sheets. Behind her, Roy was laying back down. Riza glanced in his direction, his eyes closing as he relaxed against his pillow.
"I see you've seen the article," Grumman tried, his voice careful.
"Yes, I have. General, why did you...? You didn't even ask me for permission. In a way, you're putting me at risk by revealing our- connection. I could be targeted because of this. Didn't you consider that?" her voice kept cracking, her frustration that had been slowly building during the morning suddenly coming out on him.
Grumman glanced over her shoulder towards Mustang, his expression cautious. "Would you like to discuss this in private?"
Riza felt her spine stiffen as she straightened her back, sitting up as tall as she could. Her neck protested the tension in her shoulders and jaw, her wound throbbing against her accelerated pulse. "I don't keep secrets from Colonel Mustang."
"Just pretend I'm not here. I won't say a word about this, Sir," Roy promised, waving a hand dismissively.
Grumman exhaled, grimacing slightly. He ran his hands down the front of his uniform, flattening the blue fabric. He stepped over to Riza's bed, taking a seat across from her. "I don't do things flippantly, Riza," Grumman began, his voice weighed down and serious.
"I know you don't," she interjected, "You're too much of a strategist." Roy had begun emulating that quality while Riza had been going through the Academy. He'd always been a scholar, but before he'd begun his chess matches with Grumman, he'd been more instinctive with his choices and actions.
Grumman pulled off his glasses, exposing his violet eyes as he grabbed a cloth from one of his pockets, wiping the lenses in a circular motion. "I know Dr. Marcoh thinks he might be able to restore Mustang's vision, but there's no guarantee it will work." He returned his glasses to his face, looking up to meet her eyes. "I also know you're just as determined as him to help Ishval," he nodded indicatively towards Roy. "If this philosopher's stone isn't able to cure him, you won't be left to your own devices.
"With your familial connection to me, I can grant you control over the government's financial allotment for humanitarian work. Usually it's taken up by the First Lady, but your grandmother isn't here. It's a generous sum annually, though Mrs. Bradley has already used some of the budget this year."
Riza looked down at her lap and the Desert Eagle she held there, the silver metal gleaming. "There's more to being in the Fuhrer's family than determining the expenditure of the humanitarian budget."
"I will try to keep your involvement minimal. There'd likely be a few state events each year I can't keep you free from, but I won't bog you down with the trivial. Perhaps six formal events a year at most. I would cover all expenses of travel, protection, and housing. I know you keep quite busy and I could even cut your worry about wardrobe by hiring a personal stylist."
"Wardrobe?" she looked up at him, allowing a slight crease between her eyebrows.
"Yes. You're in a high profile position now and will be setting a fashion standard in Amesteris, consciously or not. I'm expecting an influx of female recruits and cadets over the next few years because of you. I only bring this up today because you'll need an outfit for my inauguration on Wednesday. Your grandmother would roll in her grave if I let you go in dress uniform," a warm smile accompanied his mention of Sarah Grumman.
She hadn't worked closely with Mrs. Bradley, but she had been privy to her scheduling. It had seemed ridiculously busy, and the thought of juggling that along with her Military duties sounded nearly impossible. Well, maybe improbable. She might be able to do it. She could. If she had to.
She tightened her jaw, looking back at the pistol in her lap. Even if Marcoh was able to heal Roy, funding had been a concern during their planning for the restoration efforts. Military budgeting could only go so far. She had no desire for fame, but it had been slapped in her face that morning. She could do this and help Ishval as well. She could do this and help Roy.
She looked up to see Grumman watching her steadily. "Am I expected to leave the Military?"
Grumman gave no visible reaction, his wrinkled face watching her intently. "Some would expect it, but I don't. If you want to stay in the Military, I will protect your right to your uniform. I'll also let you stay under Mustang."
The sound of a group of footsteps whispered through the closed door, familiar voices jovially talking as they drew closer. Her eyes moved to the door and she stood swiftly. One particular laugh stood out as Jean Havoc's.
"Sir," she turned towards Roy, who was pushing himself up, grabbing his pillow and stuffing it between his back and the metal headboard.
"I hear them. General Grumman, it appears we'll be seeing if Marcoh can heal me or not in the next few minutes. You're welcome to stay."
"Why not! I'd be remiss to not witness a miracle when given the opportunity. Huston," he pushed himself up to his feet, opening the door and stepping out to speak with the bodyguard.
"Lieutenant," Roy broke in, drawing her attention. "Stay close. Please."
"Of course, Sir. I'm not going anywhere. No matter what happens."
He inhaled as he opened his mouth, "Stay with me," he emphasized, his bandaged hand patting the edge of his bed before pulling back.
She swallowed hard before stepping forward. She carefully sat down where he'd indicated, the bed creaking under her weight. He instantly reached out for her, his hand skillfully finding her wrist, wrapping around it securely. He squeezed her once before pulling it back, his face forward, a determined set to his jaw.
"I'm here, Chief!" Havoc broke in.
Riza turned to see the paraplegic being pushed in by Breda. In filtered Rebecca, Falman, Fuery, Marcoh, Knox, Ross, and Grumman. Quite a few faces were energetic with excitement, though Marcoh looked apprehensive and Knox appeared serious.
"Havoc. It's good to hear your voice," Roy smiled.
Jean's own grin vanished, his expression darkening. "The papers don't know what's wrong with you, but Breda told me. You- you really can't see?"
A grim silence settled over the room. Riza's hand subconsciously twitched toward Roy's, stilling as soon as she realized what she was doing.
"That's right. Same thing that happened to Fullmetal and Alphonse. Human transmutation. Only, mine was involuntary," he growled slightly with the admission. "Selim Bradley had this crafty little trick to force transmutations."
Riza tensed with both the memory as well as the mention of Selim. Her gaze flicked towards the shadow under her own bed. She swiftly shut her eyes to block out the now irrational fear. Roy inhaled behind her, ready to speak before he paused.
A creaking came from the other side of the room, several feet shuffling. "Colonel Mustang, aren't you going to tell Havoc the reason he's here?" Fuery's chipper tone sounded forced.
"Yeah! Why am I here? To commiserate with you?"
"We best begin, Colonel. Waiting won't make it anymore likely to work," Marcoh gnarled voice prompted.
Roy exhaled a chuckle, "Right you are, Doctor. Havoc, Dr. Marcoh is in possession of a philosopher's stone. It was my first thought when I learned you were paralyzed. My only thought, really. I've asked the good Doctor to heal you."
Riza opened her eyes, turning to witness the shock on Jean's face. His blue eyes were wide and his mouth slightly agape. Marcoh reached into his coat pocket, pulling out the same, blood red crystal that he had shown the other day.
"W-what?" he asked dumbly, looking between the Colonel and the Doctor. "What about you, Chief? You can do more good with this than I can."
"Colonel Mustang refuses to be healed until you have been," Marcoh informed. "I have been studying your medical files and am certain I can perform the correct transmutation. You will likely need to undergo physical therapy to regain strength in your legs, but you'll be able to use them again."
Jean gaped at Marcoh for a long moment, Riza finding a small smile at his reaction to the news. He jolted slightly before slapping his thighs with energy, "Then let's get 'er done! I'm ready whenever you are, Doc."
It was oddly surreal, Riza watching silently from the edge of Mustang's bed, the group she considered to be family gathered around. Dr. Marcoh didn't bother drawing a transmutation circle, he simply knelt beside Havoc's wheelchair, placing the stone between his hand and the outside of Jean's thigh.
As the daughter of an Alchemist, Riza had grown up witnessing alchemic reactions and transmutations her entire life. This was different from the regular blue electricity of most transmutations, or the orange of Roy's Flame Alchemy. She'd seen the red electricity coming from a stone before. From Lust. From Gluttony. From Envy. From the Father. Her skin crawled at the sight now, bile rising up in the back of her throat.
This was the cost for their repaired bodies, but she wanted to keep that power as far away from Roy as she could.
She couldn't.
The light dimmed and faded, leaving an after image burned into her retinas. Roy leaned forward in anticipation, "Well?"
Marcoh pulled his hand back, everyone waiting with baited breath. Havoc stared at his legs, expression intense.
His foot twitched in its stirrup. A disbelieving laugh broke from Jean, loud and breathy. "It tingles, but it's there! Dear fucking god! Let me..." he trailed off, his knee twitching under his lap blanket, another laugh breaking from him.
Grins filled the room, the Team stepping closer and crowding him. "What else do you feel?" "Keep moving it. I want to see you kick Falman!" "How long until you'll be walking?" "Do you want to try standing?"
Riza wasn't able to keep up, her eyes softening as she watched the Team plus Rebecca and Maria. Her eyes drifted towards the two Doctors, whispering quietly to each other, their gazes on Mustang. Behind them, arms folded across his chest, Riza caught Grumman's eyes, distorted by his glasses.
"Hey, hey! Hold up!" Havoc called over the group, effectively quieting them, "We still have to do the Colonel."
Riza tensed, the desire to keep that stone away from Roy swiftly returning. "That's right!" Fuery cried, the group breaking from around Jean.
"How about it, Doc? Are we doing the Colonel today?" Breda asked, folding his arms over his chest.
"Now, this one will be more questionable," Marcoh warned, stepping up to the bed. She felt awkward there, like she was between Marcoh and Mustang- but she had orders to stay. Well, perhaps not orders, but he'd asked her to. She wouldn't deny him something like this when there was no clear reason not to.
"Wait," Roy held up a bandaged hand in Marcoh's direction, a little off in his warding. "I know it's not as major, but could you also heal Lieutenant Hawkeye?"
Riza balked, her resolve to stay put vanishing like vapor as she stood up hurriedly, turning towards him. "Absolutely not," she lowered her tone slightly to weigh the denial. "I don't want that stone within five feet of me, let alone healing me. I'll be fine, Colonel. The hospital staff was discussing letting me out today anyway."
"Lieu..."
"No!" she harshly cut off his counter protest, stiffening. "It's wasteful, Sir. I'm healing fine on my own and there are those like yourself who have to use the stone for healing."
"It's probably best if we don't anyways. Philosopher stones can do a lot, but we don't know how much energy is left in this one. You could need all it has, Colonel," Marcoh added, giving Riza a significant look.
The stubborn set to Roy's jaw was not encouraging, but Riza watched as it slowly loosened. He exhaled heavily, shaking his head. "I suppose you're right. Dr. Marcoh, whenever you're ready. Let's see if the Elrics were right about philosopher stones."
Riza took a step back, allowing Marcoh access to Roy. She fidgeted with the pistol in hand, forcing herself to tuck it back under her pillow before her nerves became more aggravated.
Dr. Marcoh gently placed his fingers on both of Roy's temples, examining the Colonel's eyes. "I'm no optometrist and you didn't lose your vision through natural means. I will do the best I can."
Roy closed his eyes, expression serene as Marcoh shifted the stone to Roy's temple. Riza folded her arms, covering her mouth as she watched, tension building in her frame. She jumped slightly when a warm arm wrapped around her shoulder, turning to see Rebecca giving her a comforting smile.
The flash of red light drew her attention back to Roy. The transmutation energy filled the room, making her hair stand up on her arms. Her heart hammered against her ear drums, her throat clenching uncomfortably.
Roy Mustang needed to see. He needed to see her. That confession of his last sight solidified that fact in her mind. If the last thing he'd seen had been her dying, he had to see her alive.
The transmutation ended, Marcoh giving a slight grunt of surprise. He pulled his hand back, the philosopher stone in his palm beginning to dissolve to ash the same way Riza had seen Lust's and Envy's stones vanish.
It had been spent.
Riza lurched forward, Marcoh hastily stepping out of her way. "Was it enough? Colonel, can you see?"
To her chagrin, Roy chuckled at her demands, his face turning towards her. "Well, Lieutenant, my persistent headache is gone," he offered, his eyes still closed.
"Sir?" she hadn't known about any headaches, though he had been pressing that same spot between his eyes over the last week quite frequently.
He slowly opened his eyes, Riza gasping at the clear, onyx color of his irises. He blinked swiftly, his gaze focusing on her. "Lieutenant," he made the word almost sound reverent. Worshipful.
Tears flooded her eyes, burning as they began to flow down her face. For the first time since the Promised Day, she finally allowed herself to cry.
Monday, September 16, 1918
It was past 2200 when Roy trudged into the house, flicking the lights on as he did so. He should eat. He should take a proper shower or shave. Fuck, he wanted to shave. He hadn't gone this long without cleaning up his jaw since he was blind. The prickling was growing unbearable.
But Riza liked it...
After a sleepless night and a late shift, he was desperate to collapse in bed. Riza shouldn't be far behind him- she and Catalina had promised to leave the office shortly. It was likely that Catalina would try to interrogate Riza on their sexual activities.
He snorted at that thought, wearily trudging up the stairs and hitting the hall lightswitch, flooding the upstairs with illumination as he moved into the master bedroom.
He kicked off his boots, but cared little about the rest. He collapsed face first on the bed, grabbing a pillow under one arm to substitute for Riza until she arrived.
He was aware of little else until a set of chilled fingers ran through the back of his hair. "Sir, you'll wrinkle your new uniform like this."
Groaning, he squeezed his cuddle pillow, his face pressed into the sheets comfortably. He nuzzled his face into them more, determined to fall back asleep.
A familiar sigh above him warned it wouldn't be that easy. Her hands dragged down his back, fingers hooking into one of his belt loops to give a determined tug, trying to roll him onto his side. "General, I know you were given the same lessons as I was about respecting the Uniform. Get up."
"Let me sleep, Captain," he groaned.
"It's Major," she growled, voice lowering. "And if you don't get up, the only thing you'll be holding tonight is that pillow."
Lifting his head, he turned to blearily look up at her, expression stern with bags under her chestnut eyes. Exhaling slowly, he gave a near silent moan at the back of his throat, pushing himself up and out of bed.
He stumbled slightly, but her fingers still on his waist and hooked on his belt kept him upright. She busily grabbed his belt buckle, tugging it loose. "Ri?" he mumbled.
"Do you want to wear your flannels?" she asked, freeing his waist cape, popping his button and unzipping his fly.
He inhaled sharply through his nose, arousal pulling him properly to consciousness as he felt himself stiffen. "Ri..."
"Flannels?" she repeated, ignoring his obvious erection as she tugged his pants down.
"Fuck no," he growled, reaching to unclasp his jerkin and his dress shirt underneath, his shoulder holster tugging as he tried to pull them both off at once.
She gave a heavy sigh, looking up at him from her crouched position with a flat stare, "Not now. You're exhausted and you didn't sleep at all last night."
He hesitated with her glare, processing that she wouldn't have it. Not tonight. A wave of disappointment washed through him as he began tugging his jerkin and shirt apart, freeing himself from the thicker material, but leaving his holster and dress shirt in place for the moment. "I can handle it from here," he murmured.
The edge of her mouth visibly twitched as she stood up, beginning to undo her own jerkin. "Sorry," she whispered, stepping past him into the hall.
"Wait," he turned to watch her go, remembering her threat a few moments before, "You'll sleep in here, right?"
She glanced back at him as she pulled the jerkin off, her expression soft, "Don't worry, I sleep better with you." She opened the guest room door, moving inside.
Stepping out of his crumpled pants, he followed her to his own doorway, lifting his feet to pull off his socks one at a time. "Last night being the exception."
"All the other times have always been wonderful," she shrugged, Roy glimpsing her skin as she pulled off her turtleneck, burn and tattoo briefly visible from his position. Feeling drawn, he crossed the hall, stopping in her doorway to watch as she pulled her waist cape free while prying off her boots with her toes. Her long hair partially covered her black bra strap, his eyes focusing on it. He drew closer, stopping right behind her as he gently eased his thumbs between her skin at the strap.
She jumped, twisting to look at him, a brief tension in her eyes. He met her gaze steadily, pinching the clasps together and popping them loose. He smoothed his hands across her shoulder blades, the left running across her marred skin as he glided her bra down her arms, discarding it on top of her dresser with the rest of her clothes and her shoulder holster.
She exhaled unsteadily as he moved his arms around her waist, finding her belt and tugging it loose with one hand, the other grabbing her hip holster and unclipping it from her belt.
"Roy," she breathed as he placed the pistol on her dresser, moving to unclip the holster and magazine pouch at the small of her back, placing them with the rest. She exhaled in a rush, turning her face forward as he moved his hands to her pelvis, popping her button. He inched her zipper down at a crawl, taking a half step forward as he slipped his hands under her waistband, running over her hips with his palms, pushing her pants down.
Her breath came sharply as she tensed in his arms, "Shhh," he pressed his lips briefly against her ear, "I don't expect anything."
She twisted in his arms, her hands blindly grabbing the open lapels of his dress shirt as she pulled him into a kiss. Meeting her tongue with his, he slid a hand to the small of her back, pulling her close as they ebbed and flowed against each other. Moving his free hand to her neck, he slowly eased their kiss to one less passionate and more tender.
She'd said no and he wasn't going to push that boundary. If she wanted it, he'd welcome her advances, but she had to initiate at this point.
He broke the kiss, pressing his forehead against hers. "Forgive me. You're beautiful."
"Roy..." she began.
He shook his head, easing back a step. "I'm good. I'll see you in bed, my Queen."
Her face reddened in a blush as he turned, crossing the hall and snatching up his discarded socks. Prying off his shoulder holster, he slipped out of his shirt before picking up the rest of his clothes. He separated his uniform from the rest, emptying his pockets before folding the rich blue fabric respectfully and tossing the others clothes into the hamper. Ignition gloves, pocket watch, wallet, keys, and glasses all ended up on his nightstand before he collapsed back into bed, lying face up this time as exhaustion swept over him yet again.
Riza stepped in, still only wearing her panties. He raised an eyebrow at that, having expected her to get into her pajamas or her bathrobe at least. Instead of coming to bed, she moved to his hamper, digging out his dress shirt.
"Is something wrong?" he murmured, pushing himself up to an elbow.
"No," she offered lightly, pulling the sleeves right side out before tugging it on. The fabric draped over her, two sizes too big as she buttoned a few in the middle, leaving her cleavage extremely low and a small v at the bottom, exposing her underwear.
He swallowed hard, glancing over her figure. "You love teasing me, don't you?"
She met his gaze, blushing instantly. "I- I just wanted to wear it."
He raised an eyebrow, glancing over her again. "I'm not complaining."
She gave an embarrassed smile, moving to the door, "Hayate, bed," she called gently. She stepped out, moving downstairs as the jingling of Hayate's collar reached Roy from the lower floor.
Sighing softly, he eased back into the mattress, struggling to fend off sleep in her absence, his eyes sliding closed.
A familiar click jerked him back to consciousness, darkness engulfing him, blinding him instantly. Riza softly stepped into the room, causing a slight rustling.
"Riza," his voice broke, eyes straining uselessly against the dim, an anxious heat flushing through his skin.
"Sir?" she snapped, likely defaulting because of his tone.
"Leave the hall light on," he ordered tightly.
"General, the electric bill..."
"I'll pay the damn bill," he snapped, shoving his way to his feet and sightlessly stumbling his way in the darkness. He bumped into her, hissing in surprise as she wrapped an arm around his waist, pulling him to a stop.
"Roy, what's wrong? You're trembling," her cool hand ran across his neck, the motion leaving his skin dry as she unintentionally wiped away his perspiration.
He blindly followed her arms up to her neck, hands cupping her cheeks as he gauged where she was at. "I can't see you," he answered before pulling away.
His hand smacked against the wall, giving him a point of reference as he followed it to the doorframe. Stopping there, he blindly groped the hall wall for the lightswitch.
"Wait- you can't see anything?" she asked, surprised.
"My eyes weren't completely healed," he reminded her flatly, finding the switch and turning it on. It flooded his vision, a brief, white slate was his initial sight as he blinked it away, the hall coming into focus. Sighing in relief, he sagged against the doorway.
A soft rustling behind him warned of Riza's approach, her hand resting on the center of his back. "You can't see at all in low light?" she asked gently.
He shook his head, turning towards her. She was still just as gorgeous, but it hit him differently now. Relief instead of attraction. He pulled her into his arms, the familiar fabric of his shirt rumpled under their embrace. She rested her arms on his biceps, a sigh escaping her as she leaned into him. They held each other like that for a long moment as Roy gently began running his fingers through her long tresses.
Burying his face against her neck, the haunting memory of it being sliced flashed into his mind. He tightened his grip on her, tugging her closer. He pressed a desperate, chaste kiss along the scar.
"I'll keep the light on, Sir," she murmured warmly against his ear. "Come to bed?"
He inhaled deeply, relaxing with her gunpowder and lavender scent as he ran his hands down her sides, hands finding her creamy thighs. He shifted his grip, hoisting her off the ground. She yelped as he guided her legs around his waist, her arms sliding behind his shoulders to clutch at him. "Roy!"
He hummed, making sure he had a good grip before lifting his face, meeting her whiskey eyes tiredly. Her protests visibly failed on her lips, a pink glow slowly rising on her cheeks. "Roy..."
He exhaled, pushing himself off the door frame as he carried her to their bed. Gently lowering her to the mattress, he followed her down, waist still between her legs as he buried his face between her breasts.
Riza giggled, her torso trembling with the sound as her fingers began stroking through his hair. "I appear to be on your side of the bed, Sir."
"Hayate's hogging your side, you can share with me," he murmured against his shirt, half of his face pressed against her warm flesh.
Her beautiful laugh followed, her legs shifting to cradle him more as he dug his arms between her waist and the mattress, hugging her closer. "Hayate's not even in bed yet."
"Hayate, come." Hayate's collar jingled as he jumped up. His weight sagged the mattress as he walked, his paws pressing into Roy's shoulder a moment before he flumped down next to them, joining their snuggle.
"A king sized bed and the three of us are taking up the space of a twin," she pointed out lightly, squeezing him with her thighs.
"Shhh, it's bedtime," he mumbled, relaxing against her.
"Alright, alright," she eased herself further into the mattress, her fingers still running through his hair. "Before you pass out, I have plans Thursday night." He grunted in acknowledgement, sleep tugging at him. "Rebecca, Maria, and I are taking Sheska shopping for her date. I was wondering if there was anything you wanted for your birthday."
He stretched his legs into a more comfortable position, hugging her tighter as he groaned, "I want you in my arms, Riza Mustang."
"And you'll have me," she lilted, clear delight in her voice. "But is there anything I can get for you? A gift."
"A date," he answered without thought. "I want to take you to a fancy restaurant, or a movie, or something."
"For your birthday?" she teased. Her hands stilled in his hair, her voice growing somber, "I'm sorry Roy, we can't do that."
He didn't respond, fully aware she was right. They couldn't be seen in public together unless it was for work or group social functions. His heart ached with that realization. Riza was in desperate need of doting and he fervently wanted to give it to her. He could only do so much at home.
"How about you get yourself something nice to wear at the party? So I can admire your beauty all night. A miniskirt?" he tried.
She scoffed lightly, "For that, I'm going to get you the most boring alchemy book I can find, and you're going to like it."
He grunted, sleep threatening him again as he held her. "Fine. Now shush, I'm gonna pass out."
She hummed softly, massaging the back of his scalp lightly, her fingers slowly warming up. "Goodnight, Sir."