author's note: Thanks for reviewing Azulic Blade, RGaijin and Fatal Mars. I hope you enjoy the next chapter!

One Room
Chapter 2.

The second time Olivier considered to be more of a disaster. She was a smart and sensible woman, aware of her limits with her men. Somehow, though, Miles managed to disrupt her commanding presence and break apart the shield. It infuriated her. Of course, said infuriation didn't hit until the morning afterwards.

It wasn't as if she didn't like being with him. In fact, the last time she had felt so complete and marvellous was... Well, she couldn't even remember. He managed to satisfy her in ways no one did before. Miles was a good man. He was comforting, charming and kind. He understood her. Olivier failed to find someone of the opposite sex who understood her. It took time and dedication to understand what mess of a woman she was.

North City was hardly anything worth tourism. Not only was it fatal to the common Amestrian, but the only buildings worth visiting were the hotels and bars and they weren't exactly in top shape. Olivier rarely dragged herself towards the bar. Despite popular rumour, Olivier wasn't a drinker. Her taste for alcohol barely existed. Thus, she managed to get herself tipsy with just two pints of cider. Fortunately there was someone with her to halt the humiliation. Roy Mustang somehow encouraged the blonde to have a sip of alcohol, and she was oblivious to the fact more glasses were being swerved her way.

They were supposed to have a meeting. Olivier would curse herself later for forgetting what the meeting was about. Of course Mustang had ulterior motives and decided to drink themselves silly. However the man wasn't a lightweight, like herself, so was still capable of standing on his own two feet.

Placing her half empty glass down, Olivier was about to follow when a familiar figure approached from the open doorway. Miles didn't look all too pleased to observe his commanding officer in a drunken stupor. He sighed heavily, cocked an eyebrow Roy's way and was soon before Olivier, taking hold of her arm.

When she met his gaze she saw concern and a pang of guilt stabbed her heart. He was worried about her. This in itself was humiliating. Miles was her second-in-command. He was below her. It was ridiculous he was feeling sympathetic. Olivier didn't want pity, dammit. She was a grown woman. She could take care of herself.

Grabbing hold of his collar and kissing his lips was an odd way of showing her maturity. Mustang had possibly left she didn't know; she didn't care. Miles' touch comforted her immensely, igniting a warmth, loving his firm chest against hers. A light, little moan escaped her lips when he pulled away at once.

'Sir, you're drunk.'

And then she was laughing heartily. 'You were drunk last time.' Olivier pondered for a second, thinking he might get the wrong impression. An eye for an eye wasn't how she went through life.

'I need to take you to the Fort,' Miles said, managing to hold back the urge to scold her. She exhaled slowly, watching how his hand took the glass, their fingertips brushing together sending a wave of emotions flourishing inside her. Miles shouldn't have this effect. He was just a soldier. 'Before you do anything you'll regret.'

'Oh you mean like last time?' She cocked an eyebrow, pulling a crooked smile. Miles stared at her. '... D'you think I took advantage of you in the hotel, Major? Is that it?'

'No, sir, of course not... Dammit... I...' He jarred his teeth, unsure himself. 'It doesn't matter, does it? What happened happened.'

Olivier pulled him to her again, and this time he responded, kissing her with a furious passion, pushing away the law and every other agonising sign which told them to stop. Almost immediately Olivier was lost in him –– it was the alcohol's fault, she'd tell herself later –– arching her back, wrapping an arm around his neck, forcing him against her roughly.

This little incident only made the woman more confused with what they were. Subordinate and commander didn't or shouldn't be exchanging such wild affections in public. Heck, they shouldn't be doing this in general. Olivier was always capable of pushing away her desires so why not now? What goodness did he bring her?

Why was she running back for more?

In the end it sounded like a silly fairytale novel, minus the sex.

Which felt even more fantastic than last time. She had him completely that evening, and they both knew it. She refused to cave in until utterly exhausted, and she hated herself for not feeling satisfied afterwards. Obviously fucking him wasn't enough. There was something else she wanted from him, but Olivier couldn't put her finger on it.

He had the dignity to wake her the next morning. When the phone rang, Olivier shot upright, and blinked several times, attempting to regain her memory. However watching Miles pull on his clothes was enough to confirm what had happened. She didn't speak to him.

Instead she reached for the phone and pressed it to her ear.

What time is it...?

Roy's voice hardly brightened her day.

If there was anything she could give Miles credit for it would be the fact he failed to show any signs of their intimacy when working. She appreciated him not mumbling when talking to her, or acting awkwardly. Obviously their two evenings together was strictly between them. He spoke to her how he usually did. And for some reason this also bugged her.

It was all her fault for starting it anyway!

Hell, she shouldn't have gone to that asshole's little do in the first place.

For once the blaring drill made her happy. Finally there was a distraction from her Major. The last time there had been an attack was months ago. It was certainly appealing to know Drachman bastards were giving them another shot.

Her men knew what to do, naturally. After days and days of going through the same routine, they were already firing against their enemy before she reached the roof. The sound of brick breaking and bombs exploding from afar made her grin crookedly. This beat fantasising about Miles any day.

Refusing to miss out, the Queen set aflame her own canon, the ball darting straight for a crowd of Drachman soldiers. They flew apart, limbs detached and screams echoing the battlefield. Idiots. Their lack of skill amused her greatly and it was clear their new leader was even worse than the last.

It lasted several minutes. Blood smothered the snow, arms and legs dropped here and there. It was an ugly but laughable sight. Olivier straightened up, and swerved on her heel to return back inside. Just as she moved something sharp whizzed past her ear and stabbed the soldier behind.

Her ear dripped with blood, but she ignored it, more concerned for the man who was harmed.

Olivier's heart dropped so fast, blood rushing from her head.

'Miles?'

Why him? Why?

A bullet rang nearby, killing the Drachman who managed to survive.

The Major toppled backwards, the harpoon puncturing his lung, red liquid pouring down his military uniform. A combination of curses whirled inside Olivier's mind whilst she approached him, trembling, suddenly very, very scared. His breaths were horrifyingly shallow. She could feel the amount of effort he had to make to keep breathing.

Finally she moved, cupping his face in her hands, before turning to the Bears. Olivier was hardly conscious of her subtlety when she ordered a few to help her lift the man downstairs. The doc was instantly grabbing the correct equipment the moment she saw the Major enter. The harpoon looked ghastly in the light, and when Miles was carefully placed onto the bed, Olivier was stunned by what she saw.

Blood trickled down his lips and his eyelids were barely open.

If you die, I'll bring you back to life and kill you again myself.

Olivier was furious when she left. Furious with Drachma, furious with Miles, furious with herself. If only he had moved an inch to the side, he would have been fine. If only she hadn't moved towards him. It was obvious the asshole had aimed his harpoon at her, not Miles.

There was no point playing the blame game.

She shivered once entering her office. Shivered. The Queen of ice shivered. What a disappointing sight. But Olivier couldn't control herself. She had lost so many men; she had lost a friend only weeks before. To lose another––

Was Miles even a friend?

Had she started to grow feelings for him?

Why? Nothing had happened. She had slept with him, and that was all.

Her ear was still bleeding. Ripping off her gloves and military jacket, Olivier proceeded to the small bathroom and washed her face, wrapping the wound in plaster before pulling out a seat and grabbing her remaining paperwork. She needed to focus on something. Get her mind off the man in the ward, currently having a harpoon pulled out of his lung.

Olivier dropped the pen.

He wouldn't be capable. Miles needed to be active to be a soldier of the military. The duties she gave him required a lot of movement. He was useless now. If he even managed to survive...

- Shut up!

He would survive. Of course he would.

Dismissing him would be inevitable though.

It was three o' clock in the morning when someone came knocking on her door. Accidentally Olivier fell asleep at her desk, refusing to go to bed in case news would be announced about Miles' health. At once she was on her feet, toppling a little from the sudden action. Olivier opened the door and swallowed when faced with the doc. The woman's coat was splattered in blood and she looked incredibly flustered.

However a knowing, small smile stretched over her face.

'Miles survived.'

A breath of relief escaped Olivier's lips. 'Good.' It was more than "good". The General did well to contain her happiness.

'However...' Sherry paused. 'You might want to come see him.'

Olivier didn't hesitate. Closing the door behind her, she followed the woman down the hallways and into the medical room downstairs.

Despite its gruff nature, Briggs' doctors were most hygienic and could perform surgeries better than anyone at Central City. This was necessary though. The injuries at the Fort were far worse than in Central.

Miles was awake, but just. He lay bare chested, a sheet over his lower body. A large bandage was wrapped around his chest, blood ebbing through. Sweat glistened over his forehead, and he was still breathing shallowly, his chest rising and falling heavily. But he was alive. And capable of staying alive.

Olivier brushed past the doc and placed a hand on Miles' cheek. The Major opened his eyes completely and met her gaze, before twitching a smile. 'That was a bitch,' his voice was strong. Miles frowned. 'You look terrible.'

'Speak for yourself,' Olivier countered, and it was hard to hold back a smile of her own. Never had she felt so happy to see him. It was ridiculous. Her entire being shuddered with glee. Her hand wasn't removed from his cheek when she turned to the doc. 'Are there any further medications to give him?'

Sherry nodded. 'Of course. I'd be stupid if I didn't give Miles anything to take. He does have a wounded lung after all, but it's not punctured –– I guess it's more grazed, but I'd be careful.' She eyed the Ishvalan. 'No working for you for at least several months.'

The blonde trailed a thumb over Miles' face, still facing her. 'So the harpoon didn't––?'

'No, not entirely.' Sherry met her gaze and her expression softened slightly. 'Don't worry, sir, you haven't lost your man.'

At once Olivier stiffened. She glared daggers and snarled. 'Stop talking bullshit and get him fixed as soon as possible.' The General removed her hand and walked towards the exit, not turning back to look at Miles.

A smirk curled at the Major's lips.

The third time neither of them were drunk and that was what made it real. Miles had been out of bed for two days. He was slow on his feet but managed to complete the tasks given to him, and Olivier felt confident his wound would heal enough for him to, at least, move a little faster. Miles was aware she was deliberately giving him easy duties and it was only when he asked for something more challenging did she scold him.

Miles hadn't been scolded by her in ages, and she never failed to frighten him.

After a harsh explanation of his incapability and throwing a rather insulting name, Olivier threw him a pile of paperwork to finish and ordered him to leave.

She was upset, he could tell by the way her eyes failed to meet his.

In only a matter of days he would be leaving for Ishval, away from Briggs and her. Admittedly Miles was excited but in other ways he was miserable. He had really begun to like her, and their status at the moment was fragile considering previous events.

'Do you want to talk?' Miles asked gently, keeping the paperwork at his side whilst approaching her desk.

Olivier shook her head, still glaring. 'No. I want you to go away.'

'Sir––'

'Don't!'

He was quiet, watching her write. Olivier's handwriting was elegant and beautiful, flicking and slanted, but her fury caused her to wound the paper, creating holes and ink marks. She paused on the curve of a 'g', then rose her head to look at him.

'What?' Olivier's voice was quiet.

'I'll miss you.'

Miles knew he had hit a tender spot. She closed her eyes for a brief moment, before clicking the lid onto her pen, standing to her feet.

'You sound pathetic.'

He shrugged.

'What do you want, Miles?'

His heart skipped a beat when he spotted tears glistening in her eyes.

'Just go away.' Olivier struggled to hold back a sob. This made her angry, which only made her more upset which only made her more angry. It was a typical cycle for her. She hadn't felt this angry in ages. 'You're...'

The paperwork fell from his hands and he cupped her face, as if steadying her, keeping her sane. But his touch only unlocked what she was hiding from him. 'It's okay,' Miles whispered.

'No it's not,' she muttered, giving up caring about the tears falling from her cheeks. 'Dammit, Miles, if you end up dying in that godforsaken desert––'

'I won't die.'

'You'd better not.' Before he could tend to her tears, she wiped them away with her sleeve. 'I can't lose another...' She failed to continue. All her life she had taught herself to speak before thousands of people, taught herself how to control an army of violent, untamed men. Yet before this single individual it seemed all of that self discipline was worthless. How dare he do this?

'You won't lose me, Olivier.'

Saying her name –– something so simple –– touched her. Miles' confidence around the woman was questionable. The fact he had used her name made her head spin. The way he said it –– just so right.

This time Miles kissed her. Gently and carefully, no roughness to it, holding her possessively to him. She didn't fight back. The energy to do such wasn't in her system. For once Olivier wanted to be dominated. His lips trailed over her jawline, showering her with affection whilst his hands pried apart the buttons to her jacket.

She claimed his face and brought his lips to hers again, desperate to have him as close as possible, helping each other out of their clothes, a barricade between them they wanted to remove so quickly. Olivier was aware of everything; conscious of every time their lips met, every time his hands caressed her skin, every time he moaned her name, pushing himself against her suddenly fragile body.

Spent and sleepy Miles held her to him. Ear pressed against his chest, she could feel his heart beat, pumping the blood, keeping him alive. His inhale echoed. He was still having slight difficulty to breathe and this hurt. But she felt protected. In his long arms, Olivier felt safe and secure and nothing could reach her.

It was just them.

Whatever "them" were.

'S–– Olivier,' he exhaled.

'Mm?'

'What is this?'

In the dim light he wouldn't be able to see her expression anyway, but he must have known she was puzzled when he quickly added:

'Us, I mean. What are we doing? Is this right?'

His question was reasonable and it made her realise he had more sense than she. Of course this wasn't right. If anyone were to discover their sleeping arrangements, they would be kicked out of the military for sure. However Olivier felt confident her men could keep a secret, if it actually got outside her office.

'We're not anything,' she said sharply, loathing how much reality got in the way.

There was such a long pause after that Olivier wondered if he had fallen asleep. Yet just before she began to drift off herself, she heard him softly whisper, 'Oh.'

author's note: This was supposed to be a humour fic... Proof one can't control what they write ;D