Reconnaissance

"I can be on guard against my enemies, but God deliver me from my friends!"

~Charlotte Bronte

The first several weeks after the official transfer to Eastern went by in something of a blur.

Between getting settled in and adjusting to their new duties, Hawkeye and Catalina were each so busy that they saw very little of each other outside of work. What with finding suitable housing, familiarizing themselves with Eastern Command HQ (the layout thereof as well as the personnel therein), and attending training sessions on what would be expected of them in their new positions, the two friends found themselves too exhausted at the end of each day to do much more than stumble home and collapse into their respective beds.

Even at work, they often only had time for a smile and wave from across the foyer as they scurried off to opposite ends of the building. On rare occasions they were able to exchange breathless greetings as they passed in the hallways. Rarer still were the five minute chats over tepid tea in one of the breakrooms. Some days, Hawkeye didn't even see much of her own boss, and they were ostensibly sharing an office space.

And then there was Catalina's C.O. Had he been anyone else, Hawkeye might have considered dropping by Catalina's office now and then just to say hello. But somehow the idea of trying to have a quick chat with her best friend under the watchful eye of the grandfather she barely knew was… uncomfortable.

During an unprecedented lunch break together, Catalina lamented their busy schedules.

"We're finally in the same damn city – the same building, even! And I feel like I haven't talked to you in months!"

"Maybe we should start sending interoffice memos," Hawkeye teased her. "'To Sergeant Major Rebecca Catalina, from the desk of Second Lieutenant Riza Hawkeye – marked Personal and Confidential; Subject: Fraternization.'"

"What?!"Rebecca almost shrieked. "Has Tall-Dark-and-Brooding made a pass at you?"

That smirking bastard - he'd lied straight to her face about his intentions towards Riza! When she got her hands on him–! But Riza was laughing and shaking her head.

"Oh, god no! Far from it," she said quickly. "I was referring to YOU, heartbreaker. I keep hearing about the trail of disappointed suitors left in your wake."

"News to me," Rebecca declared. "I haven't been on a single date since I've been here!"

"Isn't that the issue?" Riza wondered, still chuckling.

"Not my fault if the cowards give up before they even try," Rebecca huffed. "I can't turn people down if they haven't actually asked me, can I?"

"Fair point," her friend acknowledged.

"I barely have time to see you, let alone date anyone right now," Rebecca went on, warming to the subject. "I've been too busy to even finish unpacking! You should see my living room - it's like a cardboard-box obstacle course in there."

"Mine too," Riza admitted. "And I keep forgetting where I packed certain things – apparently I didn't label my boxes as well as I thought."

"All right, that's it," Rebecca cried. "We can't go on like this! I'll come help you unpack your things, and then you can come help me do mine. Deal?"

"Sure, but when?" Riza laughed. "Weren't we just complaining that we're both too busy?"

"Yes, but that's no excuse! I want to have a proper conversation – one that lasts longer than the time it takes to brew a pot of sub-par coffee! And without ten other people standing about pretending not to listen to our every word," Rebecca groused. "I want to hear all about your new boss, and tell you about mine! And I want to know what idiots have been complaining about their broken hearts without even consulting me on the matter," she added darkly.

"You're right. We need to make time," Riza agreed. Rebecca pushed her half-eaten lunch to one side and plucked a notebook out of one of her pockets.

"Ok, what about next Saturday?" she asked, frowning down at the pages. Hawkeye shook her head.

"General Grumman is sending us to a conference in Central; we leave on Friday morning."

"Oh, that recruitment seminar thing?" Catalina asked, looking up. "I thought I heard him talking about sending Boy Wonder."

"Catalina, you might at least show respect for his rank," Hawkeye admonished gently, even as she smiled. Catalina just rolled her eyes.

"So when are you back? The following week?"

"No, the Thursday after that, or possibly Friday, depending on the trains. The general asked us to stay an extra few days to help out with any last-minute arrangements, so I haven't booked the return tickets yet."

"Let's see...Oh! We have a half-day that second Friday. Assuming you're back by then, could we make that work?"

"As long as we don't get held up any longer in Central, or sent out on assignment immediately on completion of the course," Hawkeye said, suppressing a small sigh.

"Hmm, yeah, wouldn't put it past 'em," Rebecca mused. "Well, let's put it down as a maybe, and you send me a wire or call as soon as you're sure. Though I suppose I could find out from Grumman's lists just as easily..."

Hawkeye glanced over at the break room clock.

"It's a date, then. I'd better run; I've still got to fill out that requisition for the quartermaster if I want my own desk," she said, starting to rise.

"Make sure it's in before three and you'll have it by next Monday," Catalina said absently. "You'd have to wait another fortnight otherwise. Major Boothroyd only submits those R-REQs biweekly."

"Thanks for the tip. See you later," Riza said, squeezing Rebecca's shoulder gently as she passed.

Their tentative Unpacking Date did end up working out, which was a small miracle. Hawkeye and Mustang returned to Eastern Command on the agreed-upon Friday just as Rebecca was about to leave for the day. She came bounding down the steps towards them like an over-excited puppy.

"Riza, I'm so glad you made it back on time!" she cried, flinging her arms around her friend's neck. Pulling back, she turned her head and added coolly, "Lieutenant Colonel, sir."

"At ease, Sergeant Major," he replied, eyes twinkling with amusement. "And you're officially dismissed, Second Lieutenant."

"Thank you, sir," Hawkeye replied. "Let me just drop off this report for General Grumman and I'll be right back down, Catalina," she added.

Rebecca nodded and turned back to Mustang with false brightness.

"I expect your trip to Central gave you a nice break from this summer heat, sir?"

As Hawkeye strode away, she couldn't resist glancing back over her shoulder. Mustang and Catalina were still standing together with vaguely polite expressions plastered on their faces, apparently exchanging platitudes on the weather. But just as she turned the corner, Hawkeye heard Catalina say, quite distinctly:

"I hope your accommodations were all right, sir. I noticed that you cancelled the hotel reservations we'd made for you."*

Amazing how much venom one could infuse into a few short sentences, Hawkeye thought, horrified. Without really meaning to, she paused, waiting for Mustang's response.

"Why, yes, I did cancel them," he said in his silkiest voice. "I stayed at my apartment in town, instead."

"Oh?"

"Mm. Lieutenant Hawkeye had already made arrangements to stay with some old friends, you see. And since I still have my apartment…well, there was really no need to keep two hotel rooms that no one was going to use, was there? It's all there in the report, Sergeant Major."

Was it her imagination, or was that triumph in his tone? Hawkeye wondered. Suddenly realizing that she was eavesdropping (and that Rebecca was waiting for her), she shook herself and continued down the hallway.

Due to the half-day, Grumman wasn't in his office, which was fortunate for everyone involved. Hawkeye dropped the report in his inbox and vowed to have a few words with him about letting Catalina rummage through confidential reports, uncomfortable as such a conversation might be. Thank heavens it was only Catalina...supposing someone else had seen that particular line item in the expense report and jumped to conclusions? Madame Christmas's words to Mustang about rumors were still echoing in her head.

By the time she returned to the lobby, Mustang and Catalina were glaring daggers at each other, though each had retained the fake, civil smile. The result was somewhat disturbing.

Hawkeye cleared her throat, lightly, and was almost amused by the way they both snapped to attention and turned to face her with identically innocent expressions.

"There you are, Riza! The Lieutenant Colonel was just leaving. Weren't you, sir?"

"Most unfortunately, yes," he admitted. "I had hoped to offer you ladies a lift to wherever you're headed, but it seems I'm running late for my date," he added, giving Catalina an exaggerated wink.

"Have a good evening, sir," Hawkeye said serenely.

"Hope she stands you up, you womanizing pig," Catalina grumbled under her breath.

"Beg your pardon, Sergeant Major? I didn't quite catch that," Mustang said sweetly.

"I said: I hope you enjoy the rest of your night, sir!" Rebecca chirped. Mustang smirked, not fooled in the least.

"And you as well," he returned, inclining his head in a cordial little nod. "Good evening, Sergeant Major. Second Lieutenant."

Rebecca stuck her tongue out at his retreating figure. Bemused, Riza shook her head and decided not to comment.

"Ready?" she asked instead. "Are we tackling your place or mine, today?"

"Yours," Rebecca said. "Mine looks like it's been hit by a tornado, and I won't subject you to that after the week I'm sure you've had."

"All right," Riza agreed placidly. "Do you mind if we stop and pick up dinner on the way? I haven't eaten since early this morning, and I know I don't have anything back at the apartment," she admitted.

"Oooh, can it be pasta? I've been craving pasta all week for some reason," Rebecca said, happily falling into step beside her friend.

"Nicolosi's?" Riza suggested. Still-packed kitchen accoutrements aside, she wasn't particularly in the mood to cook.

"Perfect!" Rebecca beamed as she looped her arm through Riza's.

An hour and a half later, full of antipasto salad and spaghetti carbonara, the two women stood together over a stack of boxes in Hawkeye's small living area.

"First things first," Riza said, determined. "Help me find the wine glasses."

The glasses having been found (and promptly filled), they decided to finish unpacking the rest of the kitchen things, since they were already there. Rebecca got comfortable on the floor, her wineglass within easy reach, and set about unwrapping dishes and various cooking utensils from the newspaper they'd been wrapped in. Riza wiped each item clean with a damp dishcloth before finding it an appropriate place in a cupboard or drawer.

"Your dishes and things are all so much nicer than mine," Rebecca noted, carefully passing over a ceramic serving dish. "Maybe I need you to take me shopping for a change."

"Ah, but you forget, I'm not starting from scratch the way you are," Riza reminded her. "I had an entire house full of my parents' things to choose from. I had certain things packed up and set aside in storage before I ever went to Academy, but I really ought to get back out there one of these days and sort through what I left behind."

"Left behind?" Rebecca asked. Riza had never actually mentioned what had become of her childhood home, and Rebecca hadn't liked to bring it up in case it was a sensitive topic. She'd assumed that Riza had sold everything she could and saved only what she needed. Evidently not.

"Mm-hm. I never really considered selling the house," Riza explained with a little shrug. "Figured I might want to retire out there someday or something. It's not like it's going anywhere; I can always fix it up and get rid of it down the road, if I want to. In the meantime, I don't have to make a decision about what to do with all the furniture and everything else I've been storing there."

"Makes sense," Rebecca said unconcernedly.

Inside, she was reeling. Holy crow, Riza owned the house? Outright? Wasn't there a mortgage or property taxes or something she had to pay to keep it? But Riza didn't sound concerned about she'd afford such payments, which couldn't possibly be easy on even a Second Lieutenant's salary. Rebecca recalled teasing her about being an heiress, back when they'd first met, but…was she one?

"Don't look so scandalized," Riza said, amused. Rebecca's head snapped up to find her friend watching her, a fond smile on her lips. "It's just an old farm house on the outskirts of a small country town," Riza insisted. "It's not like I secretly own a mansion in the fashionable district in Central City or an estate in the West complete with stables and servants and tennis courts."

"Yeah, but…still!" Rebecca said. "It's still a whole house! And that's definitely more than I've got. Nice to know you have a nest egg waiting for you, right?"

Riza made a noncommittal noise.

"I'll have to take you out there, one of these days. Show you around," she offered. Rebecca beamed, knowing that such an offer was not made as lightly as Riza's careful tone implied.

"I'd like that," she said, voice warm and sincere.

They worked in silence for a few minutes before Rebecca spoke again.

"So…how was the conference, anyway?" she asked, passing over a cast iron frying pan. "Interesting?"

"Mm, I suppose," Riza said thoughtfully, hiding a smile. Rebecca was bursting to ask her about that cancelled hotel reservation. She probably thought she was being subtle, but Riza knew her far too well, now. "Some of it seemed a bit silly, to me."

"How so?"

Riza explained about the 'role-playing' they'd been obligated to do, where they took turns pretending to be the recruiter and the potential recruit, asking each other ridiculous and unrealistic questions from the handouts they'd been given.

"A few parts were actually helpful," Riza conceded. "But only those that accentuated the positive aspects of military life, about pensions and salary and such. They didn't give us any advice for dealing with the difficult questions, naturally," she added, grimly.

"Such as the likelihood of having to kill people on occasion?"

"Right. 'At some point you'll have to follow orders that go against every moral fiber in your body or else risk facing a court martial which may end in incarceration or even execution' isn't exactly a selling point of the program."

"But that doesn't mean no one's ever going to ask about the negatives. Or that they shouldn't be aware of them going in," Rebecca agreed with a small sigh. "Aside from being mostly useless, did those role-playing exercises go smoothly?"

"About as well as can be expected, I suppose. Most everyone was willing to go along with it. And those that thought themselves above it all had the grace to confine their complaints to the hotel bar after hours," she said.

As Riza had anticipated, Rebecca pounced on the bait.

"Did you two spend a lot of time in the hotel bar, then?" she asked with studied nonchalance.

"No," Riza replied simply.

Rebecca narrowed her eyes. Riza offered her a bland smile. Rebecca sighed theatrically.

"Dammit. You heard me asking him about the hotel earlier, didn't you?"

"I admire your restraint," Riza laughed. "I fully expected you to grill me the moment he was out of earshot."

"Well? What happened? Where did you stay?" Rebecca demanded, waving a handful of silverware somewhat wildly in emphasis. "I know you don't have any old friends living in Central; you'd have mentioned them by now…wouldn't you?"

"Did I ever tell you that Lieutenant Colonel Mustang was raised by his aunt?" Riza asked, seeming to ignore the question. Confused, Rebecca shook her head. "His parents died in an accident when he was small."

"I did notice that an aunt was listed as next of kin in his file," Rebecca admitted. Because of course she'd read his personnel file. "Do you know her, then?"

"I hadn't even met her until last week. One of her employees kidnapped me from the train station," Riza said, enjoying the look of shock on her friend's face.

"She what?!" Rebecca cried. "What did Mustang do; stand there gaping like an idiot while some goon bundled you off kicking and screaming into the back of a van?"

Riza chuckled.

"Nothing as sinister as that," she replied. "A very sweet woman came to meet me at the station. In a chauffeured car, not a van."

"Okay, but still…what did Sparky have to say about all this?"

"The Lieutenant Colonel wasn't there," Riza said, with gentle emphasis on his rank.

"What? Why? Where the hell was he?"

"There was some kind of mix-up with the ticket bookings," Riza explained. "Somehow we ended up with tickets for separate trains. We agreed that I'd take the earlier of the two, so I could get ourselves and our baggage checked into our hotel while I waited for him to arrive."

"How'd the aunt know that you'd be there in Central, anyway? Oh, I suppose he'd told her beforehand."

Riza decided not to correct her.

Not that she had proof. But there was something awfully suspicious about the fact that the tickets had gone wrong in the first place. And about the way that they hadn't learned about the mix-up until they were already running late and didn't have enough time to get the tickets changed. Of course, the only other person who'd known their itinerary was Mustang's C.O. – Riza's meddling grandfather.

"When she found out that we'd be in town, Ms. Mustang and her employees decided that they wanted to meet me. He used to write to them, almost weekly, when he was my father's apprentice," Riza explained, seeing Rebecca's mounting confusion. "They were curious to see me in person."

"Oh, because that's not creepy or stalkerish at all," Rebecca said wryly.

"It was a very civilized kidnapping," Riza replied primly. "They served me tea and cookies and asked after my health."

Rebecca just shook her head, trying not to laugh.

"What's she like, then? The aunt?" Remembering what they were supposed to be doing, she dug into the next box and unearthed a plate from its protective nest of newspaper.

"Utterly terrifying," Riza admitted, taking the proffered plate. "And very clever. A savvy businesswoman, from what I could tell, with incredibly loyal employees. I begin to understand where Lieutenant Colonel Mustang's ideals came from – it's very clear that she looks after their best interests, and in turn, they're completely devoted to her."

"What sort of business did you say she ran?"

"I didn't. But it's…well, she calls it her cabaret. It's rather like a Xingese hostess club, I suppose."

"You're kidding."

"Not at all. Although the setup of this cabaret is far less formal," Riza mused. "To the general public, it's just a normal neighborhood bar, where the waitresses and bartenders simply happen to be beautiful women who are also very attentive listeners. Fascinating, really, how much information these ladies can pick up from their patrons, with hardly any effort at all."

Rebecca narrowed her eyes. Just what was that supposed to mean? But before she could open her mouth to ask, Riza continued with her story.

"Anyway, it was his aunt's fault that we cancelled the hotel reservations – she insisted that Lieutenant Colonel Mustang stay in his townhouse, which she'd had cleaned and prepared specially," Riza said. "She also declared the hotel to be shabby and filthy, and claimed it was unfit for human habitation."

"Then, where—?"

"I couldn't very well stay with my superior officer in his personal residence, unchaperoned. Not without raising a lot of eyebrows," Riza said. "So, two of his aunt's employees offered to let me stay with them for the duration of our trip."

"Huh. That was…good of them, I guess," Rebecca said uncertainly.

"It was," Riza replied. "They were really very kind to me, and very accommodating. With all of the conference events, I wasn't actually there often, but they were extremely solicitous whenever I came in. Saved me a share of dinner, had hot coffee waiting in the morning - that sort of thing."

Rebecca blinked in surprise at the obvious affection in her friend's voice. She'd had to fight tooth and nail for that kind of regard from Riza. What the hell had these – these hostesses – done to merit that? Besides feed and caffeinate her?

Although, to be perfectly fair, there were mornings Rebecca would be willing to kill a man for a decent cup of coffee, and anyone who had it hot and waiting for her as she stumbled out of bed would probably have her undying love and devotion for as long as the caffeine high lasted…

"So, what did Combustion Boy–sorry, Lieutenant Colonel Combustion Boy," Rebecca hastily corrected as Riza's eyes narrowed. "Have to say about all this? I can't picture him being all docile and submissive, even to a respected older relative."

"Just you wait until you meet this particular holy terror of a respected older relative," Riza muttered, stacking the last of her plates on top of the others with a quiet clink. "But no, you're quite right. He was upset with her for changing our plans without so much as a warning, and they did argue. But Madame's a very… persuasive woman, and by the end I think he was more amused than anything else. And then grateful, once we'd actually seen the hotel," she added, suppressing a shudder.

"That bad?"

"I'm quite certain I saw the head chef being hauled off by a mob of cockroaches, when we passed by the kitchen," Riza replied, reaching for the wine bottle. Rebecca giggled as her friend refilled their glasses.

"Oh, come on! It can't possibly have been so bad as that!"

"Okay, okay. It was only the sous chef."

Rebecca choked on her wine, and spent the next three minutes alternately coughing and giggling.

"WARN me before you do that, next time!" she finally admonished, wheezing.

Riza just smiled, her eyes soft and warm, and Rebecca's heart melted a little.

Okay, so maybe she didn't need to be jealous of a couple of random women who worked for her best friend's superior officer's aunt. They'd just been gracious and welcoming; they certainly weren't out to steal Riza away from her or anything.

As if they could ever replace me, Rebecca thought. I'm still the favorite friend, dammit!

"So, did I miss anything interesting while we were away?" Riza asked, offering a hand to pull Rebecca to her feet.

"Mm. The usual drama, mostly," Rebecca shrugged. She followed her friend into the living area, where there was another tower of boxes stacked in front of a tall bookshelf. Rebecca settled cross-legged on the floor beside it before she continued. "Major Burns has been throwing himself at that feisty blonde Lieutenant Nolan, but she's been busy making eyes at that new Captain that just transferred in…what's his name?"

"You mean the tall one, with dark hair and blue eyes?" Riza asked, with her hands already full of books.

"No, no, the other one, with the biceps and the cleft in his chin? And those dimples," Rebecca replied, rummaging in another box.

"Oh, I know who you mean. Macmillan? McDonald? Something like that… "

"McIntyre! That's the one."

"Wait a minute, back up. Isn't Major Burns married?"

"Sure is," Rebecca said. "The little rat wants to have himself a wife and a pretty little mistress on the side. Fortunately Maggie Nolan's not having any of it. But I wish someone would tip off the guy's wife already," she said, watching Riza relocate the books Rebecca had just shelved.

Riza arranged her books methodically and precisely, according to some internal logic that she hadn't shared with her friend. Rebecca promptly relegated herself to book-passer, so as not to mess with Riza's apparently-not-alphabetical schematic more than she already had.

"Probably no one wants to get sucked into his personal drama," Riza was saying. She took the next stack of paperbacks Rebecca offered her with a small, grateful smile.

"Yeah, I guess I can understand that," Rebecca admitted. "I'd sure like to see the cheating pig taken down a few pegs, but I also wouldn't want to touch the fallout of that scene with a ten foot pole. Apparently he only married her for her father's money, did you know that? And he's terrified of the old man."

"You think that'd stop him from pursuing a mistress in the first place, then," Riza said, shaking her head.

"Right? Oh, and speaking of old men," Rebecca paused for a moment and caught Riza's eye. "Your grandfather's been pumping me for information on you."

"He what?" Riza said, shocked.

"Well, at least I THINK that's what he's doing," Rebecca explained hastily. "He keeps asking me these subtle little questions, like he's fishing for information. If I didn't do it so often myself, I wouldn't have even noticed. But he keeps trying to get me to talk about my friends - who I spend time with, whether I see a lot of my mates from Academy these days, like that."

"Has…has he mentioned me specifically?"

"No, that's just it!" Rebecca cried. "I can't quite tell whether he knows that you and I are even friends."

"Anyone might have told him; it's not like we've kept it secret," Riza reflected.

"I know. But it's none of his business who my friends are, really, so I sort of tap dance around the questions and give him vague, trivial answers. And then he looks at me like he knows I'm doing it on purpose, and then I almost feel guilty not telling him! Then I think, well why should I? I'm not obligated to share details of my personal life with him just because I'm his aide. Besides, I don't know whether I'm supposed to let on that I know you two are related in the first place. It's all very confusing!"

"What on earth is he playing at?" Riza wondered. "Damn him; if he has questions, I wish he'd just ask me! He shouldn't be dragging you into it."

"Maybe…maybe he doesn't know how to ask you," Rebecca suggested, after a short silence. "Didn't you say you don't actually know each other very well?"

"Yes. To be honest, I still don't even know whether he wants people to know we're related," Riza admitted.

"Why don't you ask him?"

"Because I'm not sure I'm ready to hear the answer."

"Oh," Rebecca breathed. "I'm sorry, Riza." Idiot! she thought to herself. You should have kept your fat mouth shut!

"What are you sorry for?" Riza said, with a bemused little frown. "It's not your fault he's an ass. He could have simply introduced himself the day we met, but instead he decided to play the mysterious benefactor like someone out of a damn novel. And THEN he springs our not-so-secret relationship on me in practically the same breath that he tells me I'm being graduated early and deployed straight to the front immediately thereafter."

As she spoke, she angrily shelved a battered copy of something with a title in a foreign language. Rebecca made a mental note to ask what it was later. It didn't look anything like Cretan or Ishvalan script, or even the delicate spidery characters of Xingese…maybe it was Drachman?

"I'm honestly not even surprised he's taken to pumping my friends for information, now," Riza grumbled, shoving another old book beside the first, this one with a Cretan title. "I am curious who else he's talked to, though. And what they've told him."

"Want me to feed him false intel?" Rebecca offered lightly. Riza grinned at her.

"What would scandalize him most, do you think?" she asked. "Carrying on some clandestine affair with a married officer, or swearing off men entirely and thus ensuring he'll never see great-grandchildren?"

"I'll have to do some fishing of my own," Rebecca giggled. "See what gets a reaction out of him, first, and then figure out what rumors to make up from there."

"It would serve him right, the meddling old sneak," Riza sighed. "I suppose I ought to just confront him myself, since he won't come to me. He shouldn't be trying to spy on me though you; it's not fair to place you in such an awkward position."

Privately, Rebecca resolved to confront her boss herself. If he took enough offence to have her transferred, well…it was better than letting him think he could use her to gather intel on her best friend.

"And how are things going with your new boss? Kidnapping relatives aside, I mean?" she asked, changing the topic carefully. Riza frowned, lowering her eyes to the pile of books still waiting to be sorted.

"I'm not entirely sure," she said slowly. "He's…hard to read, sometimes."

"This coming from you, really?" Rebecca teased.

"I'm serious!" Riza protested, but she also smiled and met Rebecca's eyes again. "I'm not quite sure how to explain it."

Rebecca made an encouraging hum.

"It's like…one minute he's a total stranger. Very professional, distant, polite," Riza explained. "And then he'll make some sarcastic little comment and catch my eye like I'm in on the joke, and suddenly it's like no time has passed at all. Like he's the same boy I knew all those years ago. Except he's not. Not really. And then we both remember that fact, and it's like this – this wall drops between us and neither of us is quite sure how to go on."

"You're still figuring each other out, that's all," Rebecca reassured her. She rubbed her friend's arm soothingly. "Sure, you knew each other really well once upon a time, but that was before the military, and before the war, and – well, you're not different people, exactly. But a lot has happened to you both in the meantime, and some things have changed since you knew each other before," she said gently. "And I guess those are things you'll both have to learn before you can really say you know one another again. Like…like how you don't like tea anymore, you know? Stuff like that."

"I still like tea," Riza protested.

"Only if it's black tea, and only if it's got more lemon in it than anything else. You used to like all sorts of herbal blends and things, and you used to take sugar and sometimes a splash of cream. Now you only like it with lemon or nothing. Unless it's iced tea, in which case you promptly turn it into syrup," she grimaced.

"I – how'd you - ?" Riza stammered, stunned.

"How'd I know? Please," Rebecca huffed.

"No, never mind, you're right," Riza conceded, shaking her head with a rueful grin. Rebecca had always been more observant than she let on; of course she'd have noticed changes in her closest friend's habits. "I guess I…I stopped drinking tea because there's more caffeine in coffee, and I needed the extra help to stay alert out there. Plus, we couldn't always get the sugar at the front, so I learned to deal without. I suppose I just got used to it."

"See? So, little things like that, little preferences that've changed, new habits that you've formed, and the reasons behind them. It's different from getting to know someone new from the start, because there are certain things that you both have to unlearn – or relearn, I guess. That's all. The awkwardness will pass," Rebecca said, with a little nod.

Riza wished she had half her friend's confidence.

"I suppose," she said uncertainly.

She fussed over a long scratch across the cover of one of her hardbacks for a moment, biting her lip and running her fingers along it over and over again while Rebecca watched her carefully from the corner of her eye.

"So…what's Matchstick - Lieutenant Colonel Matchstick, sorry - actually like as a commanding officer? Does he treat you right?" Rebecca finally asked.

"Yes, of course he does," Riza smiled at the slightly threatening tone. It was easy to imagine Rebecca giving Lieutenant Colonel Mustang a piece of her mind at the slightest hint of improper or unfair treatment towards her friend.

"Yeah?" Rebecca affirmed, sounding doubtful.

"He's a little stiff, sometimes," Riza said. "But he errs on the side of professionalism, which I think is appropriate. Until it comes to the paperwork, that is. He whines like a child about doing the paperwork. But then he does still get it done, and on time, which is more than I can say for some of his peers."

"This is actually a point in his favor," Rebecca admitted, laughing. "My first C.O. out of Academy was the worst. I swear some of the things in that man's inbox were older than I am. It took me months to get that office sorted out. And the dust! I thought my sinuses would never recover."

"I hope General Grumman's office is in better shape?"

"Neat as a pin. 'A place for everything and everything in its place,'" Rebecca recited in a sing-song voice. "Some people grumble about him being too anal with his organizational system, but it's refreshing to always be able to find what you need when you need it."

"Far more efficient that way," Riza agreed with a faint smile. "Perhaps Lieutenant Colonel Mustang's unusual paperwork ethic stems from his desire to endear himself to General Grumman, then. Not that I'm complaining, of course," she added with a soft chuckle.

"It must be working," Rebecca laughed. "Because the General sure acts as though he likes your little arsonist. At least, I overheard him asking if he'd like to play chess someti – ooooh. Couldn't that be another roundabout way for Grumman to gather intel on you? Grilling your new C.O. over a friendly game of chess?"

Riza snorted.

"I wouldn't put it past dear old granddad. Although having met his formidable aunt, I do believe that the Lieutenant Colonel will be able to hold his own in a verbal sparring match."

"I have GOT to find a way to listen in on this chess match," Rebecca said, fiercely determined. "I wonder whether Grumman would notice if I bugged his office…"

"You're his aide, aren't you?" Riza asked. "Surely you could find a reason to interrupt with an 'urgent memo' and catch at least part of their conversation. Maybe 'forget' to close the outer door all the way when you leave."

"Oh, my sweet, innocent Riza," Rebecca shook her head in mock sadness. "That's far too easy. See, what I've got to do is find myself a pet tech and charm him into setting the general up with one of those new phones. You know the ones that have an intercom feature? Then I can listen in from the comfort of my own desk, and he'll never even know!"

"You're a diabolical genius," Riza laughed. "Remind me never to get on your bad side?"

"You could never get on my bad side, darling," Rebecca assured her, dragging her into a tight one-armed embrace. She noticed that Riza didn't even feign resistance. "Try as you might, you will never be rid of me!"

*See Chapter 36 of Espionage, in which Madame Christmas takes matters into her own hands and decides it's high time she met this "Miss Hawkeye" she's heard so much about.

A.N. I have missed writing Hawkeye & Catalina banter lately! Those of you following Alphabet Series might have noticed that I keep sneaking Catalina into the story lines whenever plausible. And in fact, she'll be heavily featured in the next chapter over there as well, just fyi ;D

Thank you all so much for your patience and support during these long hiatuses I keep accidentally taking. And additional thanks to my anon reviewers from the last chapter, who I am unable to PM: Lin, hawkeyeblue, DarkFastLight and Guest. I appreciate your kind words more than you know!

xoxo Janieshi