A/N: Now that we're at the end, I'm feeling a little sad lol (only an epilogue left). Thank you LadyAureliana, Beebop, ssadropout, WildSilence023, dvltgr, Lepaud, and blue_moon_wolf for reviewing the last chapter! Also, Mica ( thesilentwatcher), if you're reading this, I love the pic you drew based on the last scene with Royai. It's beautiful and I'm truly honored :') . Thank you.

Rev. 1/1/21

chapter 15: so here we are

InterContinental Downtown, 7:15PM

"Does it burn?"

Riza gives the curious bartender a little nod, her eyelids still tightly shut from the fire descending down her throat. "Yes. But I needed that."

"Another?"

"I need to slow down a bit. What do you recommend?" she asks, skimming through the collection of liquor on the back wall.

"If you like cocktails, we have the Dorian Gray. Gin, lime, pineapple, tarragon, passion fruit and rhubarb bitters."

Riza chuckles, twirling the shot glass in her hand. "Sure, that sounds good."

The stool beside hers slides out, and a familiar voice speaks, making her turn her head, "Ah, I'll take one, too, please."

"Roy!" she exclaims, her mouth hanging in surprise. "You're early… super early."

Roy loosens the tie around his collar, gasping for breath. He looks like he ran all the way here from the office, Riza thinks. When the bartender passes him his drink, he immediately takes a sip and asks for a glass of water, too.

"You're early yourself," he remarks, eyeing her work attire. "You didn't go home first?"

"No. I needed to walk around and... clear my head," she murmurs. The fifty degree weather should have been enough to compel her to change out of her knee-length skirt, but there's too much to think about. What she has planned for tonight is making her stand on her toes, heating her body just enough that she doesn't even need a jacket to combat the cold.

"Oh? Are you nervous about starting your new job?" Roy asks.

Running an absentminded finger around the rim of her cocktail, she angles herself towards him. "Something like that…"

Roy smiles. "Well, at the end of the day, you got a job that you want. And that's worth celebrating."

He lifts his glass in cheers, and Riza clinks hers against his, chuckling nervously. "And congrats to you, too, Roy. I wish I could be there to see Bradley's face when he hears about the board's approval on Monday." And this, she truly means.

She gobbles down her cocktail like a shot of vodka, praying for courage, feeling the tingling on her fingers as her brain momentarily tells her to drop everything and run. Turning towards him, she sees that Roy is still enjoying his drink, and she lets him take his time as she waits for the buzz to kick in. Perhaps it will make things easier. Two shots and two cocktails should be enough to carry on the night.

"I hope you're hungry," Riza says, watching him take a swig.

"Starving," he replies with a grin. "Do you wanna grab dinner?"

"I've got things planned for us, actually," she reveals, clenching her jaw in an effort to brace herself. She slips off her stool and tugs the sleeve of his dress shirt, motioning him to follow. "Come with me."

But Roy places a delicate hand on her shoulder and turns her around. "Wait. Before we go, can I just say something first?"

"Um, yes?"

"I've missed you, Riza."

There is no hesitation. Roy sounds as certain as ever, and he curls a solemn smile that makes her wish she doesn't get too inebriated tonight, only so she can have him say it again and understand the full meaning of his declaration.

She sneaks her cold hand into his, finding warmth, and looks up at him, taking him in entirely. "I've missed you, too."

The elevator ride to the room Riza booked two weeks ago is filled with tense silence. Roy still has no idea where she is leading him, but her fingers are coiled into his, coveting, not wanting to let go. She let him go, once, and she hasn't been able to sleep properly since and has simply stared at her meals rather than eaten more often than she could count. And while sharing confidences does not come easily for her, Roy's wormed his way in, knowing just as well as her sisters do about her past and history.

But there is still one more thing he doesn't know about her.

Tapping the keycard in her hand, Riza pushes the mahogany door open. She flips the light switch, and a cart of room service food appears in the center, a bucket of wine and a round tray of desserts beside the main course. Then she stares at the king-sized bed, mortified by what she sees. Red rose petals are scattered across the duvet, heart-shaped bath towels sitting at the leg of the mattress. "Happy Honeymoon" is printed in big, bold cursive on a poster paper and lies atop the bed.

"Oh, Jesus…" Riza mutters under her breath. She really should have clarified with the front desk that "starting a new journey in life" does not equal to "celebrating a newly married life."

To her right, Roy whistles, clearly amused by the excessive embellishments. "Nice. I didn't realize you missed me this much, Riza."

She glares at him, planting a hand on her hip. "They were definitely taking a lot of liberties with what I told them."

But Roy is solemn once more, and he takes a step forward, drawing her in by the shoulder and burying his face in her hair. "This seems expensive. You didn't have to do this, you know. We could have gone to your place or mine."

"But I want to do this," Riza croaks. And suddenly she finds it so difficult to speak the rest of her mind. A storm brews in her stomach, and she is sure another whiff of the pommes frites atop the dining cart would be enough to send her over the edge. She feels sick. She feels very sick. What if she scares him away the moment he sees it? What if he thinks it's ugly?

Roy seems to have noticed, and he pushes her away just enough so he can see her face. "What's wrong? Are you okay?"

"There's… something I have to tell you," she whispers. It's impossible to speak aloud, as if her mouth and tongue are pillowing a confession that might just end their relationship once and for all. "Can I trust you… with this?"

She doesn't wait for him to speak but turns swiftly, her back facing him. With trembling hands, she slips down through her zipper, dropping her blazer to pool at her feet. Roy is quiet, but he's there, his presence near and warm. Then she untucks the hem of her blouse, lifting it out of her skirt and over her head.

Now Riza is bare, completely uncovered, and she waits in anticipation for Roy to say something. Anything. But for a while there's only silence and inaction, and she has to fight the desire to turn and find his expression. Would she see disappointment there?

"I know they're… unattractive… not exactly easy to look at. It doesn't hurt anymore, but it's always going to be a part of me… I just thought you should know…" she rasps honestly, her eyes forward, speaking the reality of her past through the harsh thumping in her naked chest.

Silence.

This is it. It's over, Riza thinks sadly.

But not more than a second later, she feels a pair of unrelenting arms around her torso, tightening below her breasts. Then she feels the pillow of his lips against her earlobe, his satin breath speaking his truth, "I don't care how it looks, Riza. I only care that you're okay, that you're not hurt still, and that whatever it is... is not causing you more pain than it already had. I love you as you are."

Roy angles her towards him, black eyes seeing brown, and he bends his neck and brushes his lips over hers. In a stunned surprise, Riza's breath hitches, and she can merely stare at him as he floats kisses up her rosy cheek and pounding temple and then down her shivering neck and shoulder. The fear of rejection melts into a puddle, and she cradles his face, so full of affection, no artifices. And she seeks his mouth, pulling him down into her.

Her fingers shake as violently as they did at the beginning of the night. But her mind is at ease, assuaged, and she runs a careful slide down his buttons, unlatching the one at his collar, and then the next, and the next. Wordlessly, Roy watches her, his gaze trained on her wet lips and crimson face, and his hand gathers the stray of golden locks falling over her face, pushing them behind her ear. Then he brings his mouth down into hers again, his ardor as vehement as his grip in her hair.

Against his thrumming body, she steps out of her skirt. And then she lets him lift her up, letting him coax her into a breathless wonder. For a long while Riza is free. Buoyant. Like a boat against an undulating wave. And she sighs as the tides carry her ashore, closer, closer, a gentle sway along the way.

Three Months Later, Spring Break

Coils of ribbons and gift-wrap tapes scatter around the coffee table, and Edward plants his forearm next to them, clearing the surface in one sweeping motion. Winry looks up at him for a second, eyeing him with disbelief, and reprimands herself to calm down. Not worth getting into an argument over.

She bites the pen in her mouth and scribbles another name onto the stamped envelope. "Lan Fan and Ling only need one invitation, right?" she asks.

"Two," Edward says confidently.

"Why? Let's save an envelope. Lan will see it anyway. I feel like she's always at Ling's."

"But… they're two separate people," he argues softly.

With an exaggerated sigh, Winry rejoins, "If you paid any attention at all through high school, you know they have a thing for each other."

Confused, Edward merely stares at her, lowering a brow as though she's grown an extra head.

"Ed, they like each other!" she says exasperatedly.

He waves his hands in surrender, answering apologetically, "Okay, okay, sorry! I didn't know. It's not obvious to me…"

Her lips pucker into a pout, and Winry crosses her arms together. "Okay, moving on to our wedding party. I asked Paninya and both of my sisters. Who did you ask?"

At this, Ed scratches the back of his head. His eyes search the ground as he answers noncommittally, "I asked Al, obviously, and Ling..."

"One more person, Ed."

He laughs nervously. "Can you un-ask Paninya? I think two is enough."

Her gaze is stern when Winry confronts him the second time. Wedding planning has drained her patience and tolerance for stupid things, and she is not at all amused about reducing the number in their parties when Edward has already agreed to three from the beginning. Besides, how can anyone un-ask their bridesmaids?

"One more person, Ed," she repeats.

Ed takes a loud gulp, embarrassment all over his red face. "...I asked Mustang."

Her eyes brighten, and she gives her fiancé a gentle shove. "See, I knew you got three people already. And Riza told me you might just ask him."

His brows lower over an unamused gaze. Quickly, Edward amends himself, "Don't get me wrong. I just wanna make sure Riza has someone to walk with."

Winry smiles, but she offers a consoling rub over his back, hoping it will ease his chagrin. "I'm not trying to embarrass you, Ed. Whoever you chose, I'm sure you chose that person for the right reasons."

Edward grins. Then he slides an arm around her shoulder and presses a hard kiss to her temple. "Oh yeah, I am definitely marrying the right girl."

The thought that Edward will be stuck with her for all eternity is shaking her to her core. There's too many what-if's when it comes to her own ability to cope with what happened. A full recovery is a long way ahead, and she is only ten miles in. There's still a hundred miles more, and whoever is in the passenger seat next to her will be taking the brunt of her emotions. And Winry knows just how much of it she can take. But what about Edward?

"Ed."

"Hmm?"

She leans her head back against his chest, sighing and taking his hand, running her fingertips against his manicured nails. "I have no doubt you want to marry me, but you know that I'm never going to get over what happened completely… right?"

Edward grunts and shifts for comfort, but he doesn't let her go. He wraps his arms around her again, tucking his chin between her neck and shoulder. "I know," he murmurs.

"I just want to lay out the fine details for you," Winry adds. The truth is coating a sourness on her tongue, but Edward has the right to know. He needs to know what he's getting himself into. "There will be moments I won't feel entirely normal, and some days will be harder than others…"

"Mmhmm." And Winry can feel him nod against her unbound hair.

"And…" she sighs, slumping against his body, "even though Russell pleads guilty, I know I'll still think about it every now and then."

His embrace tightens, and Edward clears his throat. He brings a finger and glides through the band of her engagement ring, toying with the gold. "If you're having a hard day, then I'll make it easier."

"How?"

"I'll listen to you."

She follows his finger and trails circles on the back of his hand. "What if I don't want to talk to you… and slam the door on you?"

"I'll stick my arm under the door, just like Al's imaginary cat. Then you'll know I'm there, just behind the door, if you need me," he replies, breathing into her ear.

"What if I swat your arm and tell you to go away?" she says, slapping him playfully on the arm, showing him what it would be like when she does.

"I'll sing to you from behind the door."

Winry chuckles. "I only heard you sing once. And I'm pretty sure I told you to be quiet after that. I was a mean little girl. I'm sorry."

"That's not always a bad thing, Winry." Edward nods. "That means you're going to come out of the room and tell me to shut the hell up. Oh, and fair warning, I am a terrible singer."

At this, she laughs, mirth quaking her body. "And here I thought I was the one warning you about marrying me. It sounds like I've got my crazies and you have your singing."

Edward begins rocking side to side, swaying her gently with him. Then he kisses her temple again, drifting down to her cheek and then jaw. There's a smile in his voice as he whispers in her ear, "That's what marriage is all about, Win."

Armstrong Residence, End of Spring Break, 11:35PM

Camping has always been an Armstrong family aspiration. So far, nothing has surpassed dreams of bonfires and landscapes of green grass and douglas firs, visions of lying down against dewy soil while staring up at the winking stars and ebullient moon.

Olivier, who was eager and ready for her first camping trip at the age of ten, has had to put it on hold for the birth of her baby sister. Six years later, when Winry was all polished up, finally got over her fear of darkness, Riza's adoption process started. It took them nearly a full year to settle all the legal documents. The next thing Liv knew, she was too focused on her studies, and the following year after that, their parents passed away.

Tonight, Winry has suggested a camping trip. And never in a hundred years did Olivier think she would be lying down underneath a quilted sheet, attempting sleep inside a tent held up together by nightstands and sofas. There are no rolling sceneries inside their cozy apartment, but there are the conveniences of plumbing and a kitchen, the plush of their rug underfoot and piles and piles of blankets to keep them warm and toasty.

And there's also Riza's spooky tales that used to scare little Winry out of her wits.

"The little girl begged her mother to believe her. 'Mom, please believe me! I'm not telling lies!', she'd say. But her mother insisted that it was all imaginary. After all, it was totally normal for someone as young as her. Only eight years old," Riza narrates, suddenly pointing the shining flashlight in her hand at Winry. Then Riza smiles, knowingly, and aims the burnished glow at Olivier. "One day, Madeline decided that enough was enough. She ventured into the red room, a flashlight in her hand. Her father was gone on a business trip, and her mother was sleeping in the bedroom downstairs; she wouldn't hear a sound…"

Winry clutches onto the half-empty popcorn bucket in her hand. Her broad gaze is terrified, and she whimpers, "Riza, why are you making a little girl go into the red room… you're so cruel..."

Through half-lidded eyes, Liv remarks, "If the girl has any common sense, she would wake her mom and take the brute woman with her."

And Winry shushes her oldest sister with her hand. "Stop it with your logic, Liv. It's killing the story." Then she nudges Riza softly with her elbow, urging her to go on, "Tell your story, Ri."

"Madeline flicked on her flashlight-" Riza harrumphs as she shines the flashlight again. But this time, she twirls the beam into the ceiling of their blanket-tent, creating a dancing shadow beneath the patterned quilt. "She points left. Nothing. And then she points right. Also nothing. She walked in, just twenty steps further. She did it again, flashing her light left and right, left and right. But there's nothing. No ghosts. No old lady. Nothing..."

Winry elicits a tiny squeak, and Liv sits mutely with her hands cupping her elbows, pretending nonchalance. Riza has always been a fine storyteller. But she is not going to let her sisters have the final laugh. Olivier may chase after bad guys for a living, but horror stories are not her cup of tea. There's something disturbing and unsettling about ghosts and boogeymen and baba yagas.

Then Riza's voice turns breathy and brittle, like the old woman in her tale, "Madeline kept on, walking around in a circle. She flashes her lights into different corners, again and again. Just spiderwebs and dusts. But then she heard a screech, and she turns-"

"Oh my god," Winry gasps, holding her suspense.

And Riza raises her voice and flickers her flashlight at Liv, "THE OLD LADY JUMPS ON HER FROM THE CEILING!"

"Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah!" Liv screams, her eyes squeezed shut as she grabs the popcorn bucket, bracing it like she's bracing for her life. Her heart palpitates in her chest, and once she's come down from the thrill, she snaps her head at her sister and hisses, "Goddamn you, Riza!"

Beside her, Winry's in a fit of laughter, grasping the fabric over her stomach.

Riza chuckles, patting her consolingly on the shoulder. "You okay there, Liv?"

"I think it's time to sleep," Liv says, irritable, grabbing the pillow behind her and burrowing her head into it right in the middle of the tent.

Winry does the same and settles herself beside her, beckoning Riza to join Liv's other side where there's enough space for her long legs to stretch. Her youngest sister throws a kernel of popcorn into the air and tries to catch it with her mouth, only to miss when it hits her face. With a slightly embarrassed chuckle, Winry props herself on her elbow and peers down at Riza.

"How's your job, Ri?"

Riza does the same and lifts herself up on her elbow, looking at her sister across Olivier. "Great, actually. I miss Becca and Jean, but the hours are so much better. The people, too."

Liv chimes in, "But you stay at work so late. How's that better?"

"That's because Maes likes to interrogate me after work…" Riza admits sheepishly. "He asks a lot of questions about how Roy and I are doing…. It, uh, took some getting used to."

"Oh, Garfiel does the same about me and Ed. He doesn't keep me after hours or anything, but he does get curious," Winry says, aiming a popcorn into Riza's mouth. Riza coughs and laughs when she misses. Then Winry looks down at Olivier. "Hey Liv, can I seat you with Mason at the wedding?"

Riza answers for her, "Is he good looking, Win? Is he a cop? Is he quiet and mysterious? If you can check off all that, I'm sure Liv is okay."

"Why are you assuming that's my type?"

"You like ugly, deadbeat, and talkative then?" Winry asks, giving Liv a twisted caricature of ugly, deadbeat, and talkative.

"Go to sleep, Win," Olivier chuckles and flings an arm over, pinning her down to her side of the bed, making her snort and giggle.

But Winry doesn't rise back up and nuzzles into Olivier's side, resting her head on the junction of her shoulder. Riza sees and starts doing the same, bracketing Liv in the middle, rendering her unable to move. And Liv doesn't mind. Not one bit.

Wistfully, Winry says, "Kinda wish mom and dad were here to us under this… fake tent." Then she gives a little laugh, and the sound is untroubled, soothing, like the gentle ripples of river water. It is something Olivier hears often in the last couple of months.

"I think the last time the five of us were together was… ten years ago?" Riza murmurs, her voice taking on a pensive quality.

Olivier nods against her pillow, mussing her hair beneath. "Yeah. Right before I went to college."

"They're probably laughing at us right now. Or maybe they're toasting, because we're all here just talking about them," Winry sighs dreamily.

"They are definitely high-fiving each other right now," Riza bobs her head against Liv's shoulder, and she nestles closer, bringing her arm in and resting it against her side. "It's a nice thought, Win."

"So here we are, together again after four years," Winry remarks with a drowsy voice, getting the last words in.

And all is silence then.

The constellation they talked about as children is not in the makeshift sky above them. There is no dancing bonfire. There are no sounds of crickets and the whistling of trees. But there's warmth in the huddle of their bodies, in chorus with the soft harmony of slumber and the rising and falling of breaths.

Olivier faces the ceiling, observing the swirls of hexagons and diamonds on the drape above them, the mismatched shades of magenta and blue and red and green. They are all a tangle of interconnected lines, running up and then down, to and then fro, crossing into each other like countryside roads unmarked and unpaved.

Nothing about the pattern is making sense.

Nothing about it follows a proper route or an obvious trail.

And in her eyes, somehow, they are beautiful.

A/N: One brief-ish epilogue coming up 3. Thank you for reading. I'd be very happy if you let me know what you think :)