Originally Published: May 13, 2022

Last Edited:

A/N: Sorry for the delay, but here's Chapter 29!

Thank you for the comments on the last chapter, as well as the new follows and favorites! It's always flattering to receive those.

Also, thanks to NotPerky for continuing to kick my but when I'm twiddling my thumbs rather than making progress.

I hope you all enjoy reading!

Chapter 29

A Hidden Concern

Monday, October 7, 1918

"Major, get down!"

Riza jerked awake, Vulcan's shout ringing in her ears. Cold sweat coated her naked skin, making the sheets stick to her unpleasantly. Groaning softly, she pushed herself up, the mattress springs creaking under her weight.

In the glow of the bedside lamp, she glanced back at Roy, who was tangled in the linens. His hair was tousled and his mouth was ajar, soft snores escaping his throat as he slept. He had an arm stretched out towards her, and she must have pulled away during her nightmare. Still, the sight of him helped her racing heart slow as she steadied her breath.

She reached back to take his hand in hers as she buried her face in her palm, her hair curtaining her view. The events at the train station flew through her mind yet again, settling on reality rather than the morphed retelling her subconscious had given her. As she did, a knot grew in the back of her throat, her empty stomach clenching uncomfortably.

Resigned to the threatening nausea, she got up, snatching Roy's shirt from the floor and pulling it back on. Checking on Roy, she found he hadn't reacted to her movements, still out like a light and snoozing away.

Easing her way through the door, she softly closed it behind her. Chris's door was cracked open, and from the faint, gray light coming through the curtains, she could see her sleeping form reclined on her pillows.

Riza slipped into the bathroom, closing the door behind her. She tried ignoring the clammy disease hanging to her bones as she turned on the shower. Letting the water heat up, she shifted her focus to unfastening her shirt's buttons with trembling fingers, taking slow, steadying breaths as saliva began flooding her mouth.

"No. Please no," she whispered, shedding his shirt and collecting her hair at her nape as she sank to her knees. Pushing the curtain out of the way, she leaned over the edge of the tub as nausea washed over her again and again, prepared to let what little was in her stomach out as needed.

She numbly watched the water run down the drain, willing her body to stay well. If Roy or Chris heard her wretching, she'd be ordered to stay home from work. After yesterday, leaving Roy for hours on end was not an option she was willing to entertain.

Roy inhaled deeply, troubled by the empty space in his arms. Rolling over, he patted the bed, only cracking an eye open when he couldn't find Riza's frame. The sunlight streaming through the curtain and the glow of the bedside lamp revealed her side of the mattress was empty, the blankets, pillows, and sheets distributed.

Grunting in disapproval, he sat up, pushing his hair out of his face. He groggily looked around, his focus settling on his discarded boxers from the night before. Climbing out of bed, he picked them up, stepping into them before opening the door.

A slight scraping of metal and the scent of brewing coffee came from downstairs, drawing his footsteps as he found his way to the kitchen. Hayate had beaten him down, head dipped over a regular human bowl filled with kibble.

Riza was in front of the stove, still wearing his shirt, which showed a delicious amount of her thighs. Her hair was pulled up into a towel, a few loose strands hanging damply and soaking the collar of his shirt.

She was stirring some scrambled eggs in one pan, some Cretian toast browning in the other and a kettle with coffee brewing on a back burner. He moved up behind her, wrapping his arms around her stomach before she jumped, twisting to look up at him.

"Gotcha," he smirked, winking down at her before he pecked her cheek.

"Hey," she smiled, a tiredness to her eyes she couldn't hide. "Breakfast will be done soon. Do you want to get Chris up?"

"Let her sleep in, she had to listen to us all night," he chuckled fondly, brushing a loose strand of hair behind her ear. "How'd you sleep?"

Her smile slipped as she turned her attention back to the eggs. She lifted the pan off of the burner and scraped the eggs onto a waiting plate before answering, "I had some nightmares."

He exhaled, squeezing her comfortingly as he nuzzled her scarred neck. "I'm sorry, my Queen. You could have woken me."

She shook her head, flipping the toast before turning off the heat. "I've only been awake for forty-five minutes. I figured it was late enough that I could shower and make breakfast."

"You should have invited me to shower too," he lamented warmly, letting her slip out of his arms as she added the toast to the heaping pile already on a plate.

"After last night? I think I need a short break," she chuckled, grabbing a plate and serving herself.

He grinned boyishly, stepping closer to squeeze her ass. She jumped again, twisting towards him. "Roy!"

He smirked, stealing a minty breathed kiss before grabbing his own plate. "Just let me know when you're ready for more, Love."

Arriving at headquarters, Riza was hardly surprised to find Vulcan's injured arm in a sling. What she was surprised to find was him standing at attention near the main entrance, waiting for them.

She dipped her chin, resisting the urge to grimace. She'd promised Grumman that she'd let Vulcan guard her more, but she hadn't dwelled on the changes that invited.

How Vulcan chose to proceed now was something she was honor bound to tolerate.

"Lieutenant," Roy greeted as they reached the door, Vulcan pulling it open for them to pass.

"Any trouble last night?" Vulcan asked softly as they entered the building, the buzz of soldiers filling the air.

"No. I take it that you visited the hospital?" Roy gestured towards his sling as Vulcan took up position on Riza's left, shadowing her as she shadowed Roy. She glanced down at the space between them at Hayate to make sure he still followed along at her heel.

"Yes, Sir. The doctor wanted me in the sling for a week. In the meantime my injury shouldn't interfere with my duties as Major Hawkeye's bodyguard."

"What about your paperwork, Lieutenant? That's your right arm after all," Riza pointed out, glancing back at him.

"It won't be an issue, Ma'am. I'm actually ambidextrous."

Riza frowned as they reached the elevator. She stepped ahead of Roy, hitting the call button for him. "Is that trained, or were you born with that ability?" she asked as they waited for the lift.

Vulcan shrugged, his resulting wince killing his attempted casual air. "I've- ach- been writing with both since I was young. It took practice to be good though."

"Well, that's one less thing to be worried about," Riza murmured as the door opened and they all stepped onto the elevator.

With the door closed behind them, an uneasy silence filled the lift. The upward motion made her stomach squirm, her breakfast tossing unpleasantly.

She'd tried to eat light, but it was hard to maintain the pretense of being well when Roy had kept encouraging her to eat 'just a little more' to make up for missed lunch and dinner the day before. After his third attempt at getting her to eat extra, she'd had to put her foot down and remind him that overeating could make her sick again.

As the elevator jolted to a stop, she began wondering if another trip to the bathroom was necessary. The sight of Colonel Armstrong outside of the Staff Office seized her attention instead as he saluted them crisply.

"General Mustang, I have a report concerning yesterday's incident. If I may have a few minutes, Sir," he proposed in that booming voice of his.

"Of course, Colonel. Come on in," Roy invited as they all filed into the office.

Though they weren't late, they were the last to arrive. A tension filled the room as eyes found Riza the moment she walked in.

Fuery stood up, holding his chair as he voiced what was crackling in the air. "Major Hawkeye, are you alright?"

"I'm fine, thanks to Lieutenant Vulcan and General Mustang." She managed a gracious smile despite the twisting in her stomach protesting that, no, she was not fine.

Rebecca managed to catch her eye, shrugging with an apologetic 'I tried to tell them,' look. Riza nodded understandingly as focus shifted to Vulcan and his obvious injury.

"You doing alright there, Lieutenant?" Havoc asked, toying with his pen.

"A little sore, but good otherwise," Vulcan reassured as Roy unlocked his personal office and beckoned for their smaller group to join him inside. Riza took up holding the door as Vulcan and Armstrong entered and gently closed it behind them.

"Go ahead, Colonel," Roy instructed, setting the packaged chess set he'd brought from home onto the coffee table.

"His name is Richard Bauer. Age 49," Alex began as Roy pulled off his black coat. "He's a banker from the South Fork district. He has a wife and three adult children. No criminal history. He and his son were returning from a visit to Bauer's father in Central. His son, Joseph, admits Richard had a few drinks on the train, but claims didn't know his father had brought a gun with him on the trip," Armstrong reported, passing a booking file to Roy.

"His holster wasn't particularly hidden," Vulcan grumbled. "It was on his hip."

"Didn't he have a long jacket on?" Roy countered, his demeanor darkening as he examined the file.

"I- suppose, Sir," Vulcan conceded as Riza rounded the couches to stand at ease behind Roy, casually looking at the report too. Without prompting, Roy adjusted his hold on the file so Riza could get a better look.

As she focused on the picture of the middle aged man paperclipped to the corner, she realized she'd not really looked at him the day before. His cheeks were ruddy and a little pockmarked, his dark combover a bit disheveled from events leading to the picture being taken.

"How are his burns?" Roy murmured, not quite regretful, but certainly not pleased with himself. She shifted her gaze to his tight jaw and tense shoulders, finding his reaction curious. He'd defended her with Flame Alchemy, but felt he might have done wrong in doing so?

"Mostly second degree. He's received medical attention and is being held in the burn ward at Eastern Medical." Roy scowled, turning back to the man's file.

"It's a shame one drunken decision will probably end him up in jail for a few years. Not to mention ruin his career in a respectable field," Armstrong lamented.

Roy shot Armstrong a dark look. "A sentiment I do not share, Colonel."

"I doubt the Fuhrer will either," Vulcan added crisply.

"Of course, Sir," Alex nodded gravely.

"What about the son? Is he in custody?" Roy asked, offering the file to Riza. She silently shook her head, brushing the gesture off.

Armstrong blinked, visibly startled. "We have no cause. He volunteered himself for questioning, but we let him go once we were done."

Roy nodded, passing the file over to Vulcan, who began examining it. "As head of East City's Investigation Department, how do you think we should proceed?"

"There's no question that he's at fault. He attacked Major Hawkeye and injured Lieutenant Vulcan. What needs to be determined is if he premeditated this attack."

"He couldn't have," Riza spoke up, allowing her brow to furrow. "The General and I didn't plan this trip. Everything was last minute, and the only people who knew I was in Central were Gracia Hughes, Grumman, and his staff."

"Someone could have recognized you at the station as you left East City," Vulcan pointed out sufferingly, like he was schooling a child.

"Unlikely," she clipped back, irritated with his tone.

Roy interrupted before any further arguments could be made, "It's not a bad plan. Even if he didn't know the when or where of his attack, he could have still been planning it, and when opportunity struck, he proceeded despite unfavorable circumstances. Colonel, what do you need to determine this man's motives?"

"I'm already preparing a warrant to search his home and work office to see if there's any evidence," Alex responded smoothly. "I'll also arrange for interviews with his wife and other close family and associates. Then it will go to court."

Roy slipped his hands into his pockets, "Very well, Colonel. Thank you for the report. Is there anything else?"

Alex huffed, his massive shoulders rising and falling with the breath. "I'll need an official statement from all three of you," he informed with a slight frown under his mustache. "But that can wait. I need to focus on those warrants first."

"Just let us know whenever you'd like those, Colonel. If there's nothing else…"

"General," Vulcan spoke up, lowering Bauer's file, "I'd appreciate a word with you and Major Hawkeye."

"Then I'll step out," Armstrong murmured, moving towards the door.

"Thank you, Colonel," Roy added. Armstrong turned back, giving a crisp salute before closing the door.

Vulcan fidgeted with the file before passing it back to Roy. "Excuse me, Sir. This is more of a conversation I need to have with Major Hawkeye. Major, I assume you will prefer if the General is here to mediate," he added as he met Riza's gaze. It wasn't a question.

"Perhaps we should sit?" Roy suggested, discarding the file on his desk before being the first to sit at the coffee table, turning his attention to unpacking the chess set Grumman had gifted to him.

Vulcan nodded towards the couches, allowing Riza to sit next to Roy before he sat across from them. "I've never wanted to intrude on your privacy, Major," Vulcan began placatingly. "I've tried to maintain a respectful distance while performing my guard duties, but after yesterday I feel it's necessary to discuss with you how we should proceed."

Roy nodded slightly beside her, the motion almost lost to her as he began setting up the chessboard. With his silent approval, Riza turned her focus properly towards Vulcan. "I promised Grumman I would allow you to guard me more freely."

"Yes, but I still want to make sure you're comfortable, Ma'am. I understand you're an independent soldier and have different needs than a regular civilian under guard. We've never talked through what each of us feels is necessary for your protection, and going forward, I would like to be more open with you."

She paused, then nodded in agreement. After yesterday's incident and her promise to her grandfather, he was well within his power to hijack her personal life. If he was willing to let her have a say, who was she to refuse him?

"I'll go first, if I may?" he offered. When she didn't speak up, he continued, "I was originally assigned to live in your same apartment complex for round the clock security. When I realized you weren't living there I- well, I began following you home every night."

Riza's heart skipped a beat, her cheeks growing numb. From her peripheral, she saw Roy's hand stutter while placing a rook on its square.

"I understand that housing has been tight in East City, and assume you've been staying at General Mustang's and Captain Catalina's for lack of a different option," Vulcan smoothed over. "I also knew you would be safe in both of their companies, so once I'd assured you arrived and settled, I left for the night.

"I'm fine continuing like this and not becoming more- hands on. Catalina is an excellent sharp shooter and General Mustang is renowned for his alchemic combat prowess. I see no reason to interfere if you feel safe in their company."

Despite his reassurances, she knew from past experience with Annette and her explicit photos that Vulcan likely knew the true nature of her relationship with Roy. But he made no accusations. He made no implications. His concern was for her physical safety, and she could respect that.

Relaxing, she nodded, "That's generous of you, Lieutenant."

"I would like to impress on Captain Catalina, and perhaps the Team in general, the need to be vigilant when accompanying you. I'm satisfied if you are in public with any combatant members of the Team. You should have at least one of them with you while you're shopping, engaging in leisurely activities, or doing anything else around East City."

Riza pursed her lips, tensing again. "Exactly when am I supposed to have alone time, Lieutenant?"

"I'm not saying someone has to be in the same room as you every minute of every day, but even if you're at the General's or Catalina's, someone should be in the building with you. I know this is restrictive, which is why I'm giving you the opportunity to propose alternatives."

Riza grimaced, tightly gripping her kneecaps. She didn't have an alternative. Besides, he was opening up her guard rotation to the group of people she trusted most, and the truth was she'd hardly been alone since moving in with Roy.

"Combatant members of the Team. We should properly define that," Riza suggested.

Vulcan nodded, "I would of course include General Mustang and Captain Catalina. Captains Havoc, Breda, and Ross would be good additions. I'm not familiar enough with Brosh or Fuery's fighting prowess to give clearance for them to escort you alone- perhaps both of them together? And Private Sheska would not be a suitable guard at all."

"Agreed, but I'd like to add Colonel Armstrong. We occasionally spend time together after work, and he can certainly handle himself in a fight."

Vulcan nodded eagerly, adjusting in his seat, "The Colonel is an excellent addition, Ma'am. Is there anyone else?"

She hesitated, considering for a moment, "I don't think Fuery or Brosh are as inept as you believe. What if I were to be accompanied by one of them and Hayate?"

Vulcan hesitated, "You're giving your dog a lot of credit, Major. Not that I'm saying he isn't as useful as you claim, I've just never seen him in action," Vulcan explained, glancing down at her feet where Hayate sat.

"I think it's an appropriate suggestion," Roy interrupted, his hands clasped together between his knees. "Brosh and Fuery both passed their combat training for a reason, and what they lack is response time. Hayate's enhanced senses can fill in that gap and level the playing field."

"Not to mention Hayate's never been afraid to defend me," Riza added softly, reaching down to scratch behind his ears.

Vulcan glanced between them before nodding, "Alright. As long as Fuery and Brosh are accompanied by each other or Hayate, I'll accept that as an appropriate escort within East City.

"However, after yesterday's attack, I must insist I personally be informed if you leave the city. You should also be escorted by a minimum of two Team members on your trip."

Riza tensed, sniffing in disapproval.

"What if Major Hawkeye was disguised?" Roy proposed. Vulcan didn't respond, his gaze swiveling towards Roy. "You didn't know she had left town this weekend. If you had, you would have gone to Central on the train with us, or the one immediately after. You would have been one of the guards assigned to our return journey as well."

Vulcan's jaw visibly tightened, his Adam's apple bobbing as he swallowed. "That's correct, Sir. I didn't know Major Hawkeye had left Catalina's apartment until I was contacted by Grumman Saturday evening."

Riza could suddenly picture the situation from Vulcan's perspective. If Roy had vanished without a word and she'd received a call that he was halfway across the country, she'd be livid and worried sick. Add that to a situation like yesterday, and she'd be insisting on change too.

"So it works," Roy reiterated. "If Major Hawkeye were to maintain her disguise during the entirety of her trip, surely you'd be satisfied with, say- one escort, and notifying you that she's leaving town. How long she expects to be gone, where she's going."

"From my understanding, General Mustang, you weren't disguised. You draw just as much attention as Major Hawkeye does."

"Then I'll work on my own disguise," Roy shrugged lightly. "Would that be acceptable?"

A muscle in Vulcan's jaw flexed, his eyes piercing. "Yes."

"General, perhaps we shouldn't push him so much. I understand where this stipulation is coming from," Riza explained, glancing between them.

"No, the General makes a good point. I'd be fine with the disguises and communication," Vulcan rushed, clearly relaxing.

She paused before nodding, "Alright."

"That's all I had, Major. Is there anything you feel needs to be added?" Vulcan asked.

She pursed her lips, considering what had already been established. If she followed the escort policy, she would be relatively safe, even if her body betrayed her like it had at the train station.

Guilt tangled with the recent memory of acid in her throat as her eyes dropped to where his feet were hidden by the coffee table. "I owe you a pair of shoes."

Vulcan blanched slightly, waving his good hand in refusal. "No, Major, it's fine! I promise. They were…"

"Expensive shoes," she interrupted. "I insist. There's nothing in your job description that involves letting me throw up on you."

"I… Yes, Ma'am," he conceded, dipping his head in bashful submission.

"Now that's established, Lieutenant, could you please step out? I'd like a word with the Major," Roy requested, his attention on the fully assembled chessboard before him.

Without a word, Vulcan rose, offering a salute before stepping out. The door clicked shut behind him, leaving Riza alone with Roy and Hayate.

He sighed heavily, lifting a hand to rub his forehead. "Are you sure you're alright with all of that?"

She pursed her lips, considering for a moment. "Perhaps not, but I agree it's necessary."

He silently took her hand in his free one, entwining their fingers and rubbing her knuckles. "Necessary? Why? I thought you believed a bodyguard was an insult to your abilities."

She sighed, resting her face against his shoulder, the golden stars and stripes of his epaulet pressing against her cheek. "I was completely… I missed the whole fight, Roy. I didn't realize there was a threat until Vulcan had me on the ground. I was so unaware of my surroundings that..."

He turned towards her, pressing a kiss to her hair as he let go of her hand to gently wrap his arms around her. "You're safe," he whispered, rubbing her lower back.

"That's why I'm agreeing to this. I'm safe because Vulcan was alert and you and the other guards were quick to respond," she lifted her face, looking up at his midnight eyes. "But you heard him. He probably knows about us."

He grimaced, but shook his head, "He might suspect, but I don't think he knows."

"So do we tell him? Or…?"

"I…" Roy cut off, possessively squeezing her waist and pulling her closer. "I don't know. He's not the first person I'd choose to confess my most illicit affair to."

She gave a threadbare smile, reaching up to brush his freshly shaved jaw with her fingertips. "You know that if we don't, I'm going to have to keep living with Rebecca, right?"

Pain flooded his face as he pressed his forehead to hers, quietly holding her close. She closed her eyes, wrapping her arms around his shoulders.

"I'll still be here, my King. Every day. By your side," she whispered, gently digging her fingers into the fabric of his uniform.

Tuesday, October 8, 1918

Despite her promise to Roy, her second morning puking up her guts was not encouraging. She was supposed to be getting better. She couldn't afford to leave him when they'd been forced apart again.

Willing herself hale and whole, she furiously brushed her teeth, ridding her mouth of the foul taste of bile. Hayate sat beside her on the floor, whimpering with concern.

A knock came from the door, Rebecca calling through it, "Riza! I need to ask you a favor!"

Hastily spitting out the foam from her mouth, she scrambled to flush the toilet behind her, snapping the lid closed. "What is it?" she asked, washing her hands and splashing her face with water.

With little concern for her privacy, Rebecca opened the door, leaning against the frame as she practically dangled between it and her hand still holding onto the doorknob. "Riiiiiizaaaaaa!" Rebecca paused a second, an unpleasant pinch scrunching her face as she glanced over her. Silently Riza cursed herself, having ignored the foul smell from her episode.

Rebecca didn't say anything, instead she continued at a more level energy. "Jean wants to take me to the movies on Thursday. With Vulcan's speech yesterday about you needing 'protection', I was wondering if you could find someone else to be with you while I'm out?"

Riza turned off the faucet, drying her hands with a towel. "I suppose. Thank you for letting me know ahead of time." Yes, it was Vulcan's responsibility to keep her guarded, but with forewarning, she could choose who she asked to stay with her that night.

"Sure. No problem." Still, Rebecca loitered, her chocolate eyes troubled as she stood straight and bit her lower lip. "Riza… Are you- alright?"

Riza turned to properly face her, resting a hand on the bathroom counter. Keeping her masterful poker face in place and her voice light, she bluffed her way forward. "Yes. Why?"

Becca glanced back at the toilet, grimacing as a determined light sparked her gaze. "Well, it smells like vomit in here."

"Oh," she tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, mind whirling for an excuse. "Hayate threw up." At her feet, Hayate swiveled his head to look up at her, making a curious sound. "I just flushed the clean up when you knocked. You don't happen to have any disinfectant, do you?"

Becca's expression broke into a worried flood of emotions as she looked down at Hayate. "Are you sick, boy?" she cooed as she kneeled down, beckoning him over. "Come here, baby. Aunt Becky's going to make it better."

"He seems fine now," she tried reassuring Becca as Hayate trotted over to her, accepting her affection even if he didn't understand why he was getting it.

"Are you going to keep him home? Take him to the vet?"

"If he gets sick again, yes," Riza agreed, having to mold to the impromptu scenario she'd come up with. "But dogs throw up fairly often. I think he'll be fine."

"You're so heartless sometimes! This baby's sick! Aren't you, boy."

Riza's shoulders slumped as she resisted the urge to roll her eyes. "He's fine, I swear. Now where's your disinfectant? I have a floor to clean."

Just to confirm her point, Hayate flopped down, exposing his belly for Becca to give him belly rubs, his tongue lolling out happily. Rebecca glanced up at her, to which she silently responded with a 'You see?' expression.

Wednesday, October 9, 1918

Roy sat cross legged on the hospital bench, pinching the bridge of his nose as his head throbbed. It was his lunch hour, which he'd sacrificed so he could join Chris for her weekly check up appointment. Despite going out of his way to be here, he'd just been relegated to the hallway outside to wait while the ladies were with the doctor.

He supposed it was fine. Work had been grating on him this week and he was fatigued from lack of sleep. At least he had a change of pace here where he wasn't in command and didn't have trivial meetings and endless paperwork to attend to.

Bless Riza for clearing his schedule so he could get away for a little while.

The neighboring door opened and closed, accompanied by the familiar click of high heels. He lifted his head as Vanessa carefully sat down beside him, crossing her ankles delicately. "They're done with the examination. Chris is getting dressed again and should be out shortly."

"Did the doctor say how she's healing?"

"You've seen her," Vanessa chided lightly. "She's getting stronger every day. She's probably ready to start visiting the Bar while you're at work. Speaking of, when do you have to get back?"

He internally groaned, pulling out his pocket watch to see it was 1255. "In an hour. I have a meeting with a Colonel from New Optain."

She hummed absently, brushing a wrinkle from her skirt. They sat there in silence for a few moments before she spoke up again. "You look like shit."

He snorted, leaning back. "Well, thanks. You look good too."

"Is it Elizabeth?" she pressed, ignoring his sarcasm.

He eyed her, grimacing with the memories of the previous two nights. He'd been fine that first night after the attack with Riza tucked securely in his arms and any nameless threats far, far away. But once she'd gone back to Catalina's, his nightmares had returned, haunting his sleep and leaving him helpless to the clutches of insomnia and sleeping terrors.

"Yeah," he confessed, his voice a low gravel.

"Roy, have Chris come back to the Bar," she started, twisting towards him and reaching for his knee. She flinched back, her jaw tightening. "Sorry," she breathed, tightly clasping her hands together in her lap.

"No, it's fine. Thank you for remembering," he returned in a whisper.

She nodded shortly, lips pursed for a second. "Have Chris come over while you're at work. She'll prefer it, and the girls who don't know won't be hovering around your house anymore. Then Elizabeth can move back in! It's a win-win for everyone!"

Roy sighed, running a hand through his messy hair. "It's not just the girls keeping her away now. Besides, Chris is still having withdrawals. If she starts smoking again…"

"You really think we can't keep cigarettes or alcohol from her?" Vanessa shot back, a challenging spark in her eyes. "We'll handle her fine. Now, what's this about something else keeping Elizabeth away?"

"It's… her bodyguard. He's apparently been following her after work to see where she's spending each night. He knows about her staying at my place, but now she's at Catalina's, there's no reason for her to come back that won't draw suspicion."

Vanessa hummed softly. "Why not just tell him?"

"Really?" he challenged flatly, raising an eyebrow. "This is Elizabeth we're talking about."

"It sounds like he probably has a good idea of what's happening already. Why the façade?"

"Because I don't know if I trust him. Everyone else we've told is someone I trust explicitly to keep things quiet. I only met this man a month ago and…" he cut off, biting his tongue before he said anything insensitive. Vulcan's apparent sexuality had nothing to do with this.

Vanessa gave him a moment to finish before gently suggesting, "Maybe you should ask Elizabeth's grandfather why he entrusted her with this particular guard. Or, you could ask me to do some snooping. I'd do that for you. But whatever you decide, I think Chris is ready to come back to the Bar."

He grimaced, picking at one of his scarred palms absently as the neighboring door opened again, Chris exiting with even steps. "You two look jolly," she observed with a heap of sarcasm, stopping in front of them

Vanessa stood smoothly, hooking a hand around Chris's elbow. "It's nothing other than Roy-Boy brooding. Now, where do you want to get lunch?"

Roy perked up at that, glancing at Chris. "Are you feeling up to lunch out?" he asked, his brow crinkled in concern.

"Well, you need to eat too, Boy," Chris barked, leading the way down the hall with Vanessa still on her arm. "I'll be fine," she added over her shoulder.

Vanessa glanced back, shooting him a knowing smile.

Scowling, he pushed himself up to his feet, stuffing his hands in his pockets as he followed them out.

Vanessa's words kept ringing in his ears.

After everyone had left the office for the evening, he loitered behind, toying with the idea of calling the Fuhrer or not. He finally picked up the phone, spinning the rotary.

Once he gave his clearance code, he was forwarded to Grumman, who answered cheerily, "Mustang! How can I help you?"

"Fuhrer Grumman, Sir," Roy started formally.

"I think we've been friends long enough for 'Grumman' or 'Sir' to be just fine," Grumman tossed back flippantly.

"Ah, yes, Sir," Roy nodded.

The sudden thought of Grumman being the nearest thing to a father-in-law made his body flush, his palms sweating with nerves.

Oh, god, Grumman knew he was fucking his granddaughter.

Roy stifled the sudden panic in his blood, reminding himself that he had a rapport with Grumman. A mutual respect that had been cultivated for over a decade. Start there.

"I wanted to thank you for the chess set you sent me," he eased into a smirk, tilting back in his seat as he made himself relax, crossing his legs.

"You received it? Excellent!"

"The next time you're in East City, we should play a match. It's taken up residence in my office."

"I would love to! But I'm not certain when that will be. Certainly not for the rest of the quarter. I have other provinces to check up on as well," Grumman chuckled.

"Right, of course!" Roy agreed, smiling lightly.

"That can't be all you called about. Not this time of night. What can I help you with, General?"

Roy frowned, thumbing his chin with his free hand. "I had a question about Lieutenant Vulcan. Particularly, why did you choose to assign him as Hawkeye's bodyguard?"

"Why? Has his performance been inadequate?" Grumman asked tersely.

"Not at all," Roy reassured, absently swiveling his chair back and forth with his foot rooted on the ground. "He's attentive and initiated an excellent conversation with Hawkeye earlier this week to review how we can protect her from any further attacks."

"Good. You had me worried for a second," Grumman chuckled.

Roy returned it with a single laugh of his own. "Right. Sorry, Sir. No, I'm more concerned about letting him in on…" he hesitated. The Fuhrer's line was likely monitored for his security and protection. Roy couldn't be frank, yet he hadn't established a proper code with Grumman concerning the topic of his relationship with Riza.

"General?"

"Sorry, Sir. I just realized I don't have a code phrase for this confidential matter."

Grumman was silent for a moment before speaking, "That's- inconvenient. I can think of several matters that we hold in confidence."

"Yes, Sir. But, despite my reasoning, perhaps you could still answer my question?"

"Oh, yes," Grumman agreed. "I chose Vulcan out of nearly two dozen guards. I wanted someone skilled enough to keep up with the kind of action your team has faced in the past, even if you're currently doing more paper pushing. He's an excellent sharpshooter and quite skilled in hand to hand combat. I also wanted someone around Riza's own age, if not a little younger. I've noted her distrust of the older generation, and determined she would be more comfortable with a peer."

Roy furrowed his brow, surprised by that he'd- never noticed. It made sense though, and with Grumman pointing it out, he could think of several examples easily.

"I also wanted someone who would keep his hands to himself," Grumman added, "And charismatic enough to eventually win her over."

"Wait, what?" Roy asked, trying to catch up. "Keep his hands to himself?"

"Well, you are aware of her aversion to physical touch," Grumman explained, "But I also wanted someone who wouldn't- pursue her. Romantically."

So it was because Vulcan preferred men. "I see," Roy nodded, frowning slightly.

"You- do?"

Roy's face heated as he cleared his throat, planting both feet back on the ground. "I might be his type. Not that he's done anything inappropriate, I've just noticed…"

"Oh," Grumman breathed. "I'm- worried that replacing him will be damaging to Riza's situat…"

"I'm not asking you to. Vulcan's done nothing to warrant a removal from his role. Hawkeye is also starting to trust him more. You and I both want what's best for her, and if Vulcan is successfully accomplishing his duty, then we keep him where he is."

"Agreed," Grumman clipped. "How- is Riza? I was informed she was ill during the attack."

"She insisted it was motion sickness, and I haven't noticed any abnormal behavior since. She gets a little snippy if she's hiding an illness," He chuckled fondly. She'd been nothing but professional this week.

Grumman chortled as well, a warmth to the sound that was purely paternal. "Well, it sounds like you have everything handled on your end. Is there anything else I should know, General?"

"No, Sir. Not that I'm aware of."

"Very well. I've enjoyed chatting, but my assistant is trying to get my attention. I'll speak with you later."

"Thank you for your time, Sir."

"Right, right," he murmured, his voice growing distant, "I'm done! I'm done. What is i…" the phone clicked as he hung up.

Roy returned his own phone to its cradle. Leaning back in his seat, he scowled as he absently rubbed his knuckles.

Yes, Grumman had good reasons for choosing Vulcan, but they didn't make Roy trust him more. They were just traits of a good bodyguard.

He sighed, tossing his head back. His throat stretched, straining with the position. How was he going to get Riza back home?

Closing his eyes, he pictured her, laughing brightly, whiskey eyes sparkling, golden hair thrown across the pillow as they tangled together in the bedsheets. He could feel her warm limbs entwined with his, her skin soft and tempting. Smell her lavender shampoo trying to mask her natural, gunpowder laced scent. Taste her lips pressed against his.

He slowly opened his eyes, looking up at the ceiling. He had to get home and relieve the girl staying with Chris. Daydreaming about intimate moments with Riza wouldn't make their return come sooner.

But working on his 'James' disguise might.

Thursday, October 10, 1918

Riza sat in the passenger's seat as Rebecca cruised down the long, personal driveway of Colonel Armstrong's East City estate. He'd called it a cottage when inviting her over, but she hadn't expected it to be in the middle of a personal forest on the outskirts of East City.

"Thanks for taking me over. I hope it doesn't make you late."

"The first twenty minutes is all news reports anyways. Nothing I haven't already heard at work. Besides, this gives Jean a chance to get our seats and food," Rebecca waved her off absently. "Sorry you need a babysitter rather than just staying at home while I'm out."

"It's alright. I haven't spent much time with the Colonel for a while," she reassured as the cottage came into view.

It was a little larger than a large house, the main structure bearing a domed roof with a few accenting spires and at least two visible wings. In the dimming light of twilight, she couldn't quite make out the colors, but it looked like it was painted some shade of blue with white accents. Lights glowed from the arch windows, and amidst the encroaching trees, she could understand the cottage title.

"What are you even going to do? Don't tell me you'll be doing a work out," Rebecca balked as she slowed, looping with the driveway around an extravagant flower bed with a large, bird bath fountain in the center.

"Probably not. I expect it's just our regular," Riza guessed. When she'd asked if they could spend some time together while Rebecca was out, he'd claimed he was eager to 'unwind' from work. She wasn't nauseous now, but her stomach bug had been on and off since Sunday. Working out was the last thing she wanted to do while sick.

Rebecca pulled to a stop between the fountain and double doors "Well, whatever you end up doing, have fun! I'm proud you're spending time with other people than me or Mustang!"

Riza rolled her eyes, shooting Rebecca a look as she climbed out of the car. "Have fun at the movies. And don't go snogging your date where others can see you."

"No promises!" Rebecca sang. Riza shook her head lightly as she closed the door, stepping back as Rebecca pulled away and drove off.

Riza couldn't help the soft smile toying on her lips. Knowing Rebecca and Jean were set to have a nice evening gave her a satisfied buzz.

Turning, she made her way to the door, her idle mind drifting to Grumman. "Are you happy, though?" he'd asked with such paternal concern on a driveway not much different than this.

She slowed to a stop, guilt flooding her.

To avoid cuing Roy in on her lingering sickness, she'd limited her time with him to work hours, and the few times they'd been alone, she'd kept things professional. He hadn't challenged her on avoiding him, nor even shot her longing and pity-seeking glances.

Instead, every day the circles under his eyes had grown darker, and his skin a bit paler. She recognized his fatigue like an old friend, and where their workload hadn't increased, she was left to guess Sunday's events were weighing him down. The thought of him having more nightmares because of her made her chest twist, her mouth downturning in a grimace.

She took a steadying breath, flexing her trembling fists as she stood before the double doors to Colonel Armstrong's house. Why was she even thinking like this? She had to rid the negativity from her bones before it upset her stomach and ended with her dinner in the bushes.

Before she could properly compose herself, the doors opened inward, light spilling onto the pavement as the Colonel came into view. "Major Hawkeye! Welcome to my humble abode! Are you..." he faltered, grandiose greetings melting instantly. "Oh, Major, what's wrong?"

The guilty, lonely barbed wire around her heart suddenly tightened, making her eyes flood with burning tears. "I- Colonel I don't…" she struggled as liquid spilled from her eyes and down her cheeks. She hastily wiped them away, mortified by the sudden loss of control.

Armstrong froze up for a moment, startled terror in his eyes. To his credit, he gentled quickly, hushing her softly. "Riza, come in. It's getting cold out." He placed a delicate palm between her shoulder blades, guiding her inside. Within a few moments, they were in a comfy sitting room with oversized armchairs and dozens of bookshelves. A freshly brewed tea kettle waited on the coffee table with several books out for their casual discussion.

Tea testing and poetry or riddles. They had started the tradition three years ago, shortly after Bradley had separated her from Roy. In the isolation of being under Bradley's thumb, Armstrong had reached out, offering her companionship when she'd only had Hayate. She'd been so grateful for his thoughtfulness, she'd sought to continue their tradition even after the chaos of the Promised Day.

At the sight of the steaming kettle, a distressed sob broke from her throat as she remembered her housewarming gift left on the back seat of the car. "Oh god!" she cracked, trying to turn around and leave in defeat. Alex gently caught her though, urging her into an oversized armchair.

"Shh, shh. Major, what's the matter?" he soothed in his deep timber, keeping his voice from booming as he knelt before her.

Being normal sized in a giant's house with a giant man trying to console her suddenly made her feel much too small. Like a weeping child with an adult brother trying to comfort her.

Embarrassed, she swallowed her tears, sniffling weakly. "I- forgot the scones I made for you- in the back of the car. Rebecca took them with her. They were- blueberry and had a little drizzle of frosting- and would have been perfect with the tea," her voice kept cracking through the explanation, her shoulders shuddering involuntarily.

"Oh," Armstrong murmured gently, a confused and concerned light to his eyes. "That's alright."

"It's a drastic overreaction!" Riza blurted out, dabbing her cheeks with her sleeve. "I don't know what's come over me. I'm here to have-" she had to gasp for breath mid sentence, "-a nice time with a friend."

A smile ghosted under his mustache with that as he quickly pushed himself to his feet. "Right you are, Major. So we shall!

"This tea arrived from south eastern Xing just yesterday. I believe the name of it is Mi Lan Xiang, though I might be pronouncing that terribly wrong," he explained animatedly, taking the teapot and pouring two glasses.

She sniffed once more as he delicately passed a cup into her hands. "Poetry or riddles?" she asked thickly.

"I prepared a few of both," Armstrong explained, picking up a pocket book that looked much too small in his hands as he skimmed the pages. "Let's start with this to keep your mind off of things: What gets wetter and wetter the more it dries?"

She took a moment to exhale her emotions before lifting the cup to her lips, inhaling the floral aroma with a slight crinkle to her brow. Properly distracted, her shoulders relaxed unconsciously as she considered the riddle.

She felt like she had heard it before, but it had been a while. Wet brought on the image of a pond or puddle but if those dried, they didn't get more wet.

Absently, she tasted the tea, mulling over the thick, sweet flavor with half a mind. "It's a little strong," she commented, lowering the tea.

Alex took his own taste, humming slightly. "I steeped it longer than recommended. That might be why."

Riza shrugged lightly, "It's not offensive," she snorted into her cup, "Unlike that tea Vanessa suggested to me." She shuddered for added emphasis.

"Miss Vanessa drinks tea?" Alex asked, setting his cup down and adding some cream. A bit splashed from the cup onto the table, Alex hissing slightly as he quickly snatched a napkin, dabbing the spill dry.

"Oh, I don't- really know- actually," Riza fumbled, worry spiking in her veins, scrambling for a change in topic. Her eyes focused on his napkin evasively as it suddenly clicked, "A towel!" she jumped, seizing on the answer all too eagerly. "The riddle. It's a towel."

"Ah, yes. Very astute, Major," he nodded, setting the napkin aside. "Do you have one, or shall I find another?"

"I have one," Riza smiled, relieved at the change of topic. "A man shoots his wife, then holds her under water for five minutes, then hangs her. Right afterwards, they enjoy a lovely dinner together."

"Violent," Alex hummed, picking his tea up and testing it again. "Oh, try it with some cream, it lessens the edge." Riza set her cup down, doing as suggested. "Is the order important?" he asks, leaning back in his chair.

"Yes," she affirms, her smile growing fond as her thoughts moved to Brigadier General Hughes, who was the inspiration of the riddle.

He hummed, brooding over his cup with his face twisted in thought. "Shoots, then drowns, then hangs. Shoots, then drowns, then hangs…"

"I didn't say he drowned her, Colonel," she corrected, sipping her tea, "I said he held her under water."

He harrumphed, "There's a difference?"

She shrugged innocently. "You tell me."

"The wife was a homunculus," he declared with a note of sarcastic triumph.

She laughed lightly, "That works, but isn't the answer."

"I thought not," he admitted, his humor melting into absent thought. "Major, may I ask you something?"

Her ears perked slightly as she crossed her ankles, tucking them under the chair. "Yes, Sir?"

"I have- two topics that have been weighing on my mind. They're related to your affair with General Mustang."

"Oh," she wilted, guilt growing like a shadow in her mind.

He eyed her, curiosity sparking in his gaze. Cautiously he began, "You told me about your relationship because of the incident with Miss Steiner. I understand the need for discretion. The Anti Fraternization Laws are clear. But I can't shake the feeling that, if given a choice, you wouldn't have told me."

Riza's brows knit as her mouth downturned. Beyond the unfortunate nature that they were obligated to keep their relationship a secret and we're doing a terrible job at maintaining obscurity, she hadn't quite considered how she felt about who knew other than Grumman.

"Technically, I'd prefer it if no one knew. Every person who finds out makes it more likely that our secret will get out, or at least trickle up to the Military Council. If that happens, all that we've been working for will be- ruined. Roy will be dishonorably discharged and our vision for a better Amestris will never be realized. If I'm being completely frank, the timing is dreadful. I wish…" she trailed off, her lips twitching with the unspoken confession.

Shame rolled over her as she looked away from Armstrong, taking a carefully controlled sip of her tea before continuing more firmly, "Ignoring reality, I'd want all of Amestris to know he's mine," she bit out, jealousy briefly making her muscles tense. She had to exhale her vehemence with a huff before continuing, "But to the core of your question, I'm glad you know, Alex. I trust you and I'm glad I can turn to you for support if needed."

Meeting Alex's gaze again, she found his eyes tearing up as he hastily wiped them dry. "Right. Of course. I knew. I was just worried… I shouldn't have been."

"We've only just started telling anyone out of choice," she reassured. "That's why we went to Central: to tell Grumman and Gracia Hughes. Everyone before that either found out by accident or because we were desperate. If we hadn't been compromised, I know I would have wanted to tell you as a friend."

He nodded, giving her a watery smile as he sniffed, regaining his composure. A comfortable silence settled between them and a long moment, a spark lit in his eyes. "Hughes…. It was a photo!"

"Pardon?"

"The riddle. The husband shot a photograph of his wife, then soaked and hung it in a red room before dinner!"

A smile twitched her lips. "Very well done, Colonel."

With a pleased smile, he reached again for his pocketbook. "Who knows now? About you and the General."

She hummed absently, fingering the lip of her cup thoughtfully. "Vanessa, Madeline, and Chris. Rebecca and Jean. You. Sheska. Gracia and Grumman. Vulcan might know. He follows me home after work and knows I stayed those first few weeks at Roy's."

"And how do you feel about that?"

She shifted, exhaling in a huff. "When he told me, he didn't make any accusations but- I don't know if I trust him. I mean, I trust him to be my bodyguard, and he did his job well at the station when I was compromised. There's just a difference between trusting someone with your physical well being versus your intimate secrets."

"That's fair," Alex nodded. "Speaking of the incident, you haven't taken any time off work. I have been worried that you've been pushing yourself to work when you're ill. Has your stomach bug passed?" he inquired lightly, thumbing through the pages of his book.

"I think it was just motion sickness, Sir. I've been fine since," she lied smoothly. Though she was nauseous multiple times a day, and fatigued by the end of the work day, she wasn't held up in the bathroom emptying her stomach every hour. She'd actually only been sick once today, which was an improvement.

There was doubt in his expression, but he didn't voice it, instead he turned back to his pocketbook, swallowing lightly. "I found this poem a while back and have been meaning to share it with you."

"Oh?" she asked, leaning forward in her seat to set her tea down.

"It's short, but I think you'll like it," he smiled, a twinkle in his eyes. "'The Riddle we can guess We speedily despise- Not anything is stale so long As Yesterday's surprise.'"

She paused for a moment, digesting the stanza before a tinkling laugh burst from her throat. "You found a poem about riddles! Oh, and it's clever too. Who wrote it?"

"Emily Dickinson," he smiled, lowering his book.

"Oh, yes! I can hear it now."

"Hear it?" Alex chuckled.

"Of course! Now, didn't you have a second question?" she reminded, just remembering herself.

"Oh. Yes," he murmured, his smile slipping as he grew serious. "It's a very personal matter, Major."

She blinked, uncertain what he could possibly be wondering. "Go ahead, Colonel."

He hesitated a moment, setting the book aside. "It's in regards to Miss Steiner's blackmail photos. Several depicted- your back."

She resisted the urge to shiver and press her back against the cushions behind her. Stoic as stone, the remaining lines on her sink still burned, insisting to be known. The only relief was the numb flesh of her scar, soothing her discomfort.

"If you'd prefer not to talk about it…"

She took a sip of tea before calmly answering, "My father tattooed his alchemy notes on my back when I was a teenager. Against my will. I chose to show them to the General after my father died."

Alex nodded, "Mountains are not usually built by one man. I too inherited the Armstrong Alchemist Legacy, if in a less invasive way. But- that wasn't my question."

She knew what he was really searching for, and like Rebecca, she trusted him with the truth. All of it. "Please don't bring it up with the General. He still feels guilty about it."

"So he burned you."

"I asked him to. After Kimblee assaulted me, leaving the notes intact for another alchemist to see wasn't a risk I was willing to take. Roy burned them shortly after the war ended."

Alex froze, his eyes widening and muscles tense. "That- bastard…"

She gave him a sad smile, tilting her head slightly. "Hughes was watching out for me that night, and he and Roy came to my rescue. Please don't dwell on it."

Alex still scowled, setting his tea down. "I worry about it, though. I have a lot of sisters, and Olivier acts like she's untouchable. Then there's Catalina's reason for leaving Grumman's chain of command. People don't even think…"

"Alex," she hushed gently, reaching for him with a delicate hand on his knee. "You are so good, but you can't protect all of us all of the time. There are always going to be things out of your control. I just appreciate that I can trust you to never do anything like that."

A troubled light remained in his eyes, but he relaxed more. "Well, at least someone was there to help you. I still wish it hadn't happened."

"I know."

He brooded in silence, his mustache turned downward in a deeply troubled frown. "Did- Kimblee see it?"

Riza shook her head, the shadowed image of Kimblee's tattooed palm striking at her flashed behind her eyes as she blinked. "No. He was interrupted before that," she reassured, absently raising a hand to brush the cheek he's bruised. A burning between her legs made her squeeze her knees together. "Could we- change the subject?" she asked as the back of her head began to give phantom throbs and her breast prickled unpleasantly.

Armstrong's keen eyes scanned her, and he quickly set his tea aside. "I'm sorry. I've brought back a terrible memory. What would you like to talk about?"

She lifted her eyes to him, thinking of how to best respond. "How have your sisters been?"