If you're in the mood for a review, let me know about the pacing in this chapter :)

Without further ado, the moment you've been waiting for...

Chapter 24 - Day 198

Riza turned off the tap when she heard a car approaching. The engine rumbled past the house, down the street. She harked for another moment but it was gone. She was going insane waiting for him.

For them.

Drying her hands on the towel she must have at some point stuffed into her waistband, she straightened out the cutlery on the table for the third time. It was perfect. It had been perfect before, but would it be perfect enough for a visit from the Fuhrer himself?

Now, she knew Grumman and his… attitude. She hadn't gotten to know him much in his new role though, and power changed people, at least so they said. Nothing good could come from this encounter, least of all after what Roy had revealed. And how could he call her using the Fuhrer's private line?!

He'd drive slowly, he'd promised.

Riza winced at the sound of another car, then again when she mindlessly sawed into her finger instead of the bread. Sticking the wound into her mouth, she fleetly cut off another slice from the warmly steaming loaf, arranged it alongside the others in the basket that she had padded with a neatly ironed napkin, and nearly went to the door with the tea towel still stuck in her skirt. She flung it into the closest cabinet.

"Hayate," she hissed. He sat in front of the door, knowing to listen for whatever agitated her so. She reached for his collar, but her hand froze midway.

Doors slammed down the street. Car doors. Two pairs of boots descended the pavement.

"… should I expect? She's been away for how long? Some twelve and a half weeks?" Grumman sounded conversational. Sceptical. Mistrusting? Did he not believe Roy, thinking it was all a scheme?

Would he demand to see proof?

"Uh, a little more actually," Roy said, now right behind the door. The proximity of their voices thawed Riza enough to snatch Hayate up by the collar and hustle him into the kitchen. Or the living room? Would have been better, she realised, not daring to cross the hallway again though.

"How much more are we talking?" Grumman insisted. He had been keeping count. Twelve and a half weeks was just short of him saying eighty‑eight days. The loon. Riza wasn't sure whether she preferred the idea of the country's leader or one of his subordinates keeping tabs on her 'sick leave'.

Roy clinked with the keys more than was necessary. "About… seven months."

"Seven months more?"

"In total," Roy soothed, "roughly…" he added under his breath.

"Good gherkins!" Grumman sounded almost as if he would… laugh?

Riza wiped her hands on her skirt. The lock clicked aside. Military booths swished into the entrance, the door shutting behind them. Self‑consciously, Riza caught herself tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. Should she have pinned it up as usual? She should have. This was business. In a way. She hoped.

Roy hadn't said much on the phone, and the more she had inwardly vented about his tight‑lipped-ness, the more grateful she had become for it – he had been in the Fuhrer's office after all, quite possibly with the man still right there in front of him.

Now that man stood in front of her, at least in the doorway. Roy stepped into the kitchen to allow them to… greet each other? Riza didn't know how. Where to find answers to any of her questions.

"A puppy!" Grumman unintendedly broke the tension. Amidst her nervous replacement actions, Riza had let go of Hayate's collar. Deciding to go with Roy's mood that was a smidge less on edge than Riza's, as well as Grumman's joyful tone, Hayate trotted over curiously.

Roy took advantage of the moment's distraction to meet Riza's eyes. She returned the apology with a help‑seeking glance, maybe managed a supportive smile, she couldn't remember, not when Grumman returned his attention to her. His eyes immediately flashed to her belly.

Riza gulped and saluted. He looked disappointed. Why was he disappointed?

Roy cleared his throat. "Shall we?" He scooted a chair out for her to sit. At least that didn't disappoint the Fuhrer.

The thin, mildly pleased line of his lips lit up at the sight of Riza's best (time‑pressured) casserole. Roy served a helping each and poured a good wine for Grumman and himself.

Cutlery clattered quietly. A hum or two – agreement on the wine, on the meal. Riza felt the urge to sit closer to the table, to hide her belly somehow, at the same time fearing she would stub Grumman's legs with hers.

Roy's hand disappeared to straighten the napkin on his lap. It strayed for a reassuring pat of her knee. Riza briefly closed her eyes. Was this the overture to the end? Was he torturing them for their misconduct? She stared at what might become her last supper in freedom.

"So." Grumman heartily plucked a chunk of bread apart to swab sauce off his plate. "How did it happen?" He took a big bite.

Riza's eyes went a little wide, but she hid her reaction by keeping her gaze down for another moment. Birds and bees shot into her head. She almost shook herself to get rid of the thought.

"Well," Roy began slowly, "Ishval cost us both a lot of nerves. Being back for the restoration," he added. Going to work, he had more practice when it came to masking emotions. Riza cursed her jumpiness; the hormones that she blamed with all her heart.

"Ishval?" Grumman sounded surprised. Riza couldn't detect a positive swing in his voice like there had been when seeing Hayate. Instead, a frown laced his wiry brows. He ripped off another piece of bread, more pointedly this time. "Only since the deployment?"

Neither Riza nor Roy felt it very safe to enlighten him on their entire history; how they had been fraternising for years.

Grumman barged on into the awkward silence, "Come on, if I am to wed you, I need some details!"

"Wed us?"

"You heard me, boy. White dress, church bells, the whole shebang."

"Church bells?" Riza forgot not to look as puzzled as she sounded.

Grumman took a bite. "At least that's what I've been taught. Remember that uprising religion in Loire?" He pointed his bread at them. Their eyes followed the jiggle until it vanished in the old man's mouth. "I was there to investigate," he said between chewing, "and they offered a two-day seminar in the art of becoming a registrar. Couldn't resist."

Roy ventured a careful chuckle. "Just before shutting the whole community down?"

"Exactly. A once-in-a-lifetime chance."

Roy exchanged a glance with Riza. Grumman observed closely.

"At the risk of speaking out of turn," Roy carefully said, "am I understanding correctly that you are giving us a free pass?"

"Do you have another choice?"

"I'm just having a hard time comprehending why. I'm very grateful," he quickly added.

Riza nodded, perplexed.

Grumman smiled at her. "Oh, I just want you to be happy, Riza dear." He stuffed the rest of the bread into his mouth.

It was Riza's turn to frown. "… why?"

"I suppose…" Grumman said, fading out again. He licked his dry lips, regarded the casserole between them, then his plate, then Hayate in the corner. His hand fidgeted with nothing. "Oh," he clicked his tongue, indecisive, "well, because I made a mistake once. And I swore to myself that I will never make that mistake again."

Riza exchanged another bewildered glance with Roy when Grumman unbuttoned the front of his uniform. From the inside pocket, he produced a photograph. Reaching over the salad, he lied it down on the table. All Roy saw was a pretty middle-aged woman holding an infant.

"Mother," Riza whispered.

"My late wife." Grumman looked at Riza. "Your grandmother. She died in childbirth, and then your mother chose that alchemist," he spat, clicked his tongue more softly this time. Shaking his head, angry, sad, he tutted. "I wasn't notified of her death. Can't hold it against the man. We didn't exactly leave on good terms before she got married. I was a fool not to attend."

Riza stood up and left the room. Grumman opened his mouth, but a woeful sigh was all he managed. He let his head hang.

Roy shuffled a little in his chair. He didn't know if he should go after her, what to say, whether to say anything at all, so he said nothing.

Hayate looked from one to the other. He hadn't followed her either, Roy noted.

The stairs creaked lightly as she returned. Riza sat down, a small chest in her hands. Roy cleared the table of the dishes and the casserole. She set the box in front of herself, let the lid fall open to reveal a necklace, partially oxidised, a threadbare sachet holding three rings, all atop a folded piece of lace. Her mother's veil, Roy assumed. He had never seen her open that chest and never seen its contents.

Riza gently took the items out. She lifted another piece of fabric underneath which were three unlabelled envelopes stacked over one another. She extracted the bottom one.

"She told me not to show it to my father," Riza spoke softly. "Now I understand why." She held the envelope in her hand for another moment. The tips of her fingers seemed to soak up the feeling of the parchment, cling to the memory of her mother.

Finally, she placed it in front of Grumman. The seal was unbroken.

"I didn't know I had any family left."

Grumman's hand twitched. It reconsidered, hurried to take off his glasses, but blinking rapidly would not help him anymore and so he had to fleetly wipe his eyes. A succulent sob betrayed him.

Riza handed him the folded handkerchief from the chest. He took it, then somewhat tossed it back at her. "Was this hers?" His voice wobbled. Riza nodded. "Take it back. I don't want to sully your mother's precious heirlooms. I forfeited the right to do so. I didn't know that woman."

Riza paused but took back the handkerchief. She covered the remaining envelopes with it and returned the veil, rings and necklace before closing the box. The third envelope, she slid closer to Grumman. "I'm sure you know the woman who wrote this letter to her father."

Grumman sniffled heftily. He put his hand atop Riza's. She winced, unprepared, so he withdrew and apologised. Roy remained motionless, watching her face mould slowly as she came to a decision.

Her hand moved closer on the table. Grumman met her gaze, fiercely blinked tears out of his eyes as he regarded the offer. He gathered her hand somewhat avidly in both of his wrinkly ones.

"I only found out who you were when you started working in the East." His head jerked sideways, and Roy was surprised either of them was still aware of his presence. "If I'd known, I would have never, never let you be sent to the front lines."

Silence fell. The sun was setting outside, but no one turned on the lights to chase away the darkness seeping in. They just stared on, each pair of eyes sending tidal wave after tidal wave of regret crashing against one another.

"It's in the past," Riza eventually said. "And even though nothing can ever atone for what we've done, we are making amends for the Ishvalan people and their culture."

"And I want you to be happy." Grumman patted the back of her hand. With his other, he refused to let her go. "When I saw the dismissal, I was aghast but then I was thrilled that you would finally quit the military and find safety and happiness. Even though I wouldn't get to see you again."

"You can now," Riza said. His lips wobbled, pressed together in a fight he had long lost. "Only I don't want to quit my job. No alternative we can think of is ideal, but no matter how it goes," she gave a small squeeze, "I will introduce you to your great‑grandchild."

Grumman sobbed vigorously. Riza smiled a little, and so did Roy.

He offered a regular handkerchief. Grumman accepted, blew his nose, mumbling his thanks. He also thanked Hayate for his support with a thick slice of bread when the latter nudged his leg. Riza bit her tongue as not to scold him. Hayate would start begging at the table!

Amusement sparked in Roy's eyes when he noticed her struggle. She glowered at him warningly. Of course, she couldn't scold the Fuhrer like that, even if he turned out to be her grandfather.

There were more things sparkling in Roy's eyes, affection, but mostly teasing. She could hear the 'grandpa'‑jokes coming. And while she gave an upfront reprimanding scowl her all, the corners of her mouth remained disobedient. She couldn't hide the curl of her lips, not when seeing the mischievous boy she had fallen for so long ago.

Grumman looked from one to the other. "So how long?" He gestured with his finger between them like a windscreen wiper, back and forth, back and forth. "How long has this canoodling been going on?"

Riza awkwardly cleared her throat.

Roy answered with pride. "Six years."

"Cor blimey!" Grumman laughed. His cheeks had dried. "I will have you keep your position," he told Riza. "Maternal leave is fairly rare in the military but I'm the Fuhrer. I can extend it however I please."

"Thank you very much, sir,"

"Please don't call me that here."

"Good luck," Roy chuckled. "I've been telling her for almost a decade…" He grinned. Riza pouted, but Grumman snickered.

He turned to Roy. "You, I will have signing a whole lot of things. About new clauses in your contract, fraternisation law exclusion under certain conditions, less rights concerning your aide…"

"Rights?"

"I'll keep him on a short leash." Grumman patted Riza's hand as he apparently liked to do. "Make sure you're truly in good hands."

"I am," she affirmed, amused. Under the table, she assured Roy with a touch to his feet.

"Are you playing footsie?" Grumman bent to spy beneath the table.

"But he will have legal custody of the child, won't he?"

"You are playing footsie! Yes, yes," he sat back up, "hence the marrying by yours truly."

Roy blushed lightly but didn't take his feet away from hers. "Sir, how do you think we should handle the fraternisation law? There will be complaints. I was only just targeted for favouritism accusations – I couldn't possibly send Hawkeye back to work without precautions."

But Grumman waved off. "Oh, screw that stupid law. No one even talks about it."

"I almost left the country without a word because of that law," Riza argued.

Grumman paused.

He slid his glasses back on. "I'm abolishing it."

"Sir."

Roy laughed. Riza threw him another glare, but when Grumman laughed too, she accepted defeat. He would think of something, he promised, keep them updated.

At the door, Riza apologised to him for the shock her dismissal had caused. She was suddenly very aware of his advanced age.

He smiled sadly. "No, I should be sorry. And I am. I'm sorry I didn't get to know you before." He stepped out into the early night. A car was waiting for him, a bodyguard getting out to open the back door. Grumman turned one last time. "I still missed you."

The engine buzzed to life in the dim light of the streetlamps. The winter night swallowed the car before it could turn the first corner.

Roy shut the door. Neither spoke. Riza heard him soak the dishes and refrigerate the salad. She didn't move or blink. She didn't think.

Roy announced his return with a gentle hand on her back. "And? Isn't he every bit the embarrassing weird uncle you always wished for?" he quipped. Riza couldn't respond, not yet. Eyes on the door, she just stood there. Roy rubbed her shoulder. "You okay?"

Still no words, none that she could fathom. He tucked on her, waited, and eventually, Riza turned away from the door. Their eyes met for a long moment. She hugged him for an even longer one.