Disclaimer: I don't own FMA… Only Arturo and Mr. Momo. :D

Thicker than Rain

Chapter 13: Unwounded Soldiers (Part II)

He was assigned an office in the Eastern face of Briggs and, in all truth, he couldn't complain. The mountain range was gorgeous, not that he'd tell anyone, but he got a chance to bump into his blonde-haired subordinate about twice a day.

"So… do you wanna get some coffee?" he asked one day.

Her eyes widened, but they returned to their usual, untrusting squint once the question sunk in.

"No…Sir." She answered, "I don't drink coffee."

Arturo looked at her, "Well, I-uh… don't drink it either." He said, "I prefer tea."

She looked at him straightly. "I don't drink tea either. I prefer boiling water. It's the only thing you can really trust to come in, here at Briggs." She said. "And, may I have permission to speak freely, Sir?"

Arturo opened his mouth to respond, but she spoke anyway.

"I don't appreciate your attempts to flirt with me." She said, "You may be my superior officer, but that doesn't make your actions acceptable by any standards. You're a high ranking military officer. Start acting like one."

She walked off without another word.

Arturo smirked, wiping the sweat from his forehead.

For some reason, she reminded him distinctly of another blonde that he knew, and he chuckled.

~O~O~O~O~O~

Of course, he made three other attempts before giving up.

The last time, he had seen her hand tense next to the hilt of her custom-made sword.

He knew never to mess around with women who were skilled in any kind of weaponry. It made for a messy-breakup that he didn't need.

It so happened that he was bringing his papers down to the mailroom, he bumped into her.

He saw her move a blonde strand of hair behind her ear, and he felt a certain heat rush across the bridge of his frozen nose.

Slightly distracted, he didn't notice that she had spoken anything to him until she was face to face with him.

She looked angry.

"Sir…" she greeted, though she seethed with a barely restrained anger.

Arturo just tilted his head like the confused "Dog of the Military" that he was.

"What can I do for you, Brigadier General?" Arturo inquired curiously.

"If you don't mind, Sir… there's something I don't understand." She said, gathering herself; her anger slowly melting into her regular, fierce tenseness.

Arturo's features softened, as he looked at her in a bemused fashion.

"Well, what is it that you don't understand? One of your assignments?" he questioned, "I'd be glad to clarify it for you."

"What I don't understand, Sir…" She said, "Is why in all of Amnestris you'd hit on me."

Arturo looked at her, it was his turn to be stunned, but then, unable to help it, he burst out laughing.

"I-is that what you want me to clarify?" he asked, still laughing and gripping his sides.

For the first time since he had met her, she looked embarrassed and uncomfortable.

"Yes." She countered defensively, "Officers around here fear me and are loyal to me. Yet you storm in here like some scum off the City streets and start flirting with me. Just who do you think you are? And how could the Fuehrer give the Lieutenant General position to someone weak and immature like you! Your very presence annoys me!"

Arturo smirked, taking several steps towards her.

"What I don't understand, is why people don't flirt with you." Arturo muttered, giving her the usual Mustang-smirk that had won him the hearts of many a young girl, "You're beautiful, smart, tough, and you're absolutely graceful with your weapons. I'd say that any man would be privileged to be by your side, General… if you don't mind my saying, of course."

Armstrong stared at him, wide-eyed.

She fumbled for words, and slowly, a crowd of their subordinates started to gather around, relishing the first time that Brigadier General Olivier Armstrong was actually at a loss for words.

Arturo smirked, "Shall we take this somewhere more…private?" the Lieutenant General asked, satisfied with where this conversation was going.

She glowered at him, but after looking around, her dignity gave her no other choice than to follow him to his office.

He sat down, leaning his boots on his desk calmly, watching as she paced back and forth like a caged lion.

"So, I annoy you?" he asked, looking distinctly amused.

She quickly turned towards him, a sneer on her beautiful features.

"Yes. Very much so." She replied, turning away from him.

"You just don't like what you don't understand." Arturo replied matter-of-factly, "I know girls like you. And between us… they were always the most beautiful."

He smiled sweetly at her as she turned around, her back facing him once again.

"Don't think you're getting to me, General." She muttered, "I'm onto what you're trying to do, and I don't like it."

Arturo stood up, going over to her.

"All right. I'll stop then." He said nonchalantly.

She turned back to face him.

"J-just like that?" she asked, looking stunned once again.

Arturo nodded,

"Sure." He said, "I understand when to respect a woman's limits… and the military is no place for fraternization. It decreases efficiency and creates tension among the ranks."

He straightened himself haughtily, as he had so often done during important conferences with the Fuehrer. He often felt, and looked, more dignified.

Armstrong nodded in agreement.

"Yes." She said, some slight respect making its way into her ice-blue eyes, "It does."

A part of her also looked a tad disappointed, though she blinked back that emotion quite quickly.

"So," Arturo said, "shall I dismiss you and we leave this matter alone for the rest of our time together?"

Armstrong gave another nod.

"Yes, sir. I'd appreciate that." She said, "I dislike it when my subordinates don't take me seriously."

Arturo gave her the usual, Mustang-family smirk.

"That's very understandable." He agreed, "You may go."

He saluted her, and she returned it with a certain degree of a smile.

"Thank you, Sir." She said.

Arturo watched her leave, but she paused at the doorway.

He looked intrigued for a moment as she glanced over her shoulder to glance at him.

"And, the reason I have been declining your invitations to coffee, is because Northern coffee is terrible." She said.

Arturo smirked, "Well, then maybe we'll make it tea then." He said, "Or boiling water, as you prefer it."

She gave a smile and walked out.

~O~O~O~O~O~

They never made it official, but hot gossip amongst northern soldiers said that there were sparks flying in the icy, iron walls of Briggs fortress.

However, no one dared bring it up in front of either of the Generals.

As promotions were given out, Armstrong was given the position of Major General, which caused a certain degree of disruption amongst the soldiers.

"Get back to work, all of you!" rang the Major General's commanding voice, "Stop standing around!"

The men scattered, and Arturo came down the hall. His face was twisted slightly… in the way it always was when he was stifling a cough.

He never coughed in public. It showed weakness. He always stood up straight, his eyes always scanning like a hungry vulture.

It made men uneasy, but tasks were completed in a timely fashion… and that's all either of the Generals needed to know.

They enjoyed watching their soldiers' efficiency and keeping the Drachmonians on edge. Arturo smirked in that typical Mustang way, and walked down the hall without another word.

"Major General," Arturo said, as the Major General saluted him and stopped in her tracks.

"Yes, Sir?" she asked, looking up at him.

"I have some things to do; would you mind going to the meeting at 1400 for me?" Arturo asked.

The Major General nodded, "Of course." She said nodding, her face, emotionless, as usual.

Arturo smiled, squeezing her shoulder affectionately.

"Thanks." He replied, "I appreciate it."

Both officers then went their separate ways without another word.

That was the nature of their relationship, but they were content, and their careers were more important than anything else was at the moment.

Arturo went to the filing room to check up on some records.

He looked around, and as his eyes laid on the filing cabinet, he pulled the key from his pocket and opened it.

"Hmm… Monroe, Musket… ah, here it is… Mustang." He said to himself, with a satisfied grin.

Opening the file, he read its contents.

"Seems Roy is doing well…" he thought to himself, finding a certain degree of comfort in that fact.

As he finished replacing the file, the air caught in his throat and he began coughing harshly again.

Leaning against the wall, he slumped slowly to the ground.

It took a few moments to calm down and he covered his mouth, trying to catch his breath.

Every gasp he took sent a burning down his trachea and he winced.

Finally, after a few moments, he was able to breathe. He pulled his hand away from his face and felt a warmth drip through his fingers.

With slightly blurred vision, he glanced down and his eyes instantly dilated.

Metallic red spread across and between his fingers.

Standing up, he stuck his hand in the pocket of his uniform pants and he headed down the hospital wing.

I can't put this off any more… I have to get help…

~O~O~O~O~O~

"I'm sorry to tell you this, Sir… but your condition has worsened." The doctor said, scanning the Lieutenant General's medical file.

Arturo eyed him suspiciously,

"How so?" he asked, "Whatever it is, just treat it and let me get outta here. I have work to –"

"You have cancer, Sir." The doctor interrupted.

Arturo paused, "Wh-what?"

"Your condition has developed into lung cancer." He said, "There's really nothing we can do. I'm sorry."

Arturo gave a deep sigh, putting his hand to his forehead, trying to understand what was going on.

"How long do I have?" he asked calmly.

"You should still have a few years, but we can't be certain." The doctor replied.

Arturo looked at him blankly.

"Nothing is ever certain in medicine." He muttered.

His tone was between annoyed and anxious… but both were to be expected.

The doctor nodded, "I can offer a therapist if you need one, but there's nothing we can do, except treat the symptoms." He said.

Arturo stood up, "I don't need a therapist." He assured, "But medicine for the symptoms would be great."

The doctor gave another quiet nod, "Of course. I'll write you a prescription right away."

He drew out a pad of paper, and after scribbling something on it, he handed it to Arturo who took it and stuffed it in his pocket.

"So, is that it?" Arturo inquired.

The doctor nodded, "I'm afraid so." He answered.

Arturo gave a sigh, but saluted as he walked out the door.

All he could do was wait, which was what he was going to do, until his time started to run out. The North suited him well, and keeping his condition under wraps was his plan. No one needed to know… not yet anyway.

I have plenty of time… all the time I need.