New idea: no POV is a POV xD
Wishing you a successful, healthy New Year 2024 !
Chapter 19 - Days 194
Roy twitched to get up, but refrained. The couch sighed under his slumping weight. Havoc harked. Both of them were mute, attentive.
Riza was making tea. The kettle bubbled invitingly.
"You know, I'm going to miss bunking off work and hanging out at your place," Havoc laughed. He scratched the back of his hand as a replacement action. She was better – a lot better – having walked around and made herself food for the past days. Seeing Roy's brows furrow with lingering concern reignited an unsettling twist in his stomach though.
"Riza?" Roy called like he had not two minutes ago. The kettle whistled, drowning him out. He got up.
Havoc sighed under his breath.
"Oh," Riza sounded surprised when Roy appeared next to her. "No, it's alright," she assured him like she had before. "I'm almost done. This needs cleaning… Yes, yes, I'll sit. See?" A chair creaked.
"Don't overwork yourself. You'll catch another fever."
"I specifically remember you bringing that in."
The face Roy pulled where he had been expelled from the kitchen almost made Havoc laugh.
"If you look like that when the old codger comes by, we've seen the Flame Alchemist for the last time." He offered a wry smile. Roy shot him a glare.
"I beg to differ." Roy picked up a file from beneath the coffee table, slapping it down in front of Havoc before dropping into the cushions. He looked even more tired than when Riza had been at her worst. He should have been relieved; relaxed. At least as relaxed as he could be given the circumstances.
Riza's chair creaked in the kitchen where she got up, busy again. Roy's eyes flickered towards the open door.
Havoc ignored their married-couple squabbles for a minute, scooted forward and opened the file. "Giolio Comanche, the Silver Alchemist. Basque Grand, the Iron Blood Alchemist. Shou Tucker, the Sewing‑Life Alchemist. Well, that brings back memories." He shuddered. "Isaac McDougal, Tim Marcoh, Armstrong, Kimblee, Fullmetal. Didn't he drop out of the programme though? Having lost his alchemy and all."
"Take a look at the numbers." Roy put his arms over the backrest of the couch. His gaze hard to read. It drifted involuntarily to Riza clinking with cutlery.
"Numbers? Their ages?" Havoc skimmed the basic information. A snort built in his throat at the violently destroyed evidence that had been Edward's height upon receiving the certificate. "They're all—" He stopped. His eyes snapped back to another page, then forward, skimming, searching each date of birth as well as—
"Dead. Murdered, five out of eight. Dr Marcoh resigned to practise medicine in Ishval. Fullmetal isn't an alchemist anymore."
"Which leaves you and Armstrong." Havoc's eyes widened.
Roy looked on darkly. "I worked on my research results for the upcoming examination all week. I scaled it down as much as I could so that I can spend time with Riza and the kid instead of doing more research next year. I think I could trim even more and they won't kick me out. They need me. What I'm afraid of is that they might need me at the Cretan border sometime soon if Sherman writes another of those letters," he growled.
"General Sherman wrote that with his head thick from a cold. He wouldn't embarrass Amestris like that again."
"Once is enough. Don't you find it suspicious that the Fuhrer is coming personally to approve this?" Roy kicked the table, the thick folder of his research results wobbling. "I'm not even required to give a demonstration. I know he understands nothing of the theory either; he'll want to talk about something else. Riza," he raised his voice, "we can tidy up later."
"In a minute." She continued as if she had never been sick at all or as if wasn't very much pregnant.
Roy huffed with discontent.
"Isn't that good?" Havoc tried to focus. Where Roy was constantly glancing towards the kitchen, Havoc found his gaze flashing to that long, mysterious package propped up against the couch. "Maybe he'll grant your extended holiday."
"He was supposed to meet with a representative from Aerugo to discuss new trading routes after smoothing things over with Creta. I saw his schedule, I know I did, but the moment I fill out that dismissal, he spontaneously feels like coming to the East at the end of next week."
"Did you hand it in yet?"
"No," Roy grouched. "But I'll have to do it soon. I can't extend her sick leave any longer and I can't have Thomas make me another fake medical report without getting him in trouble. It's not for you," he patted the package, aware of Havoc's curiosity, "it's for your girlfriend.
Havoc broke into a massive grin.
Roy momentarily lost the edge to his voice. "What?"
"You called her my girlfriend." Havoc couldn't help balling his fists triumphantly.
"Isn't she?"
"I just like the sound of it. From you of all people. Girlfriend-Stealer. Couldn't you have married Hawkeye years ago?"
"Very funny." Roy called again, "Riza." He was becoming as restless as her.
"Give your husband a break by giving yourself a break," Havoc chuckled. Still no reply. Water splashed, drawers opened.
Roy shrugged. "Once you're done, could you bring the sewing kit? Should be in the—"
Right away, they could hear the flaps of a cardboard box. Impressed, Havoc nodded at Roy, but the latter only leant back, casually fumbled for one of the buttons at his sleeve's cuffs and tore it off. Havoc frowned, bewildered. His surprise redoubled when Riza appeared without any more coaxing and sat next to Roy.
The darkly-rimmed eyes, they had in common. Watching her thread the needle, taking two, three, four tries, sagging a little into Roy's side when he wove his free arm around her back – Havoc could picture perfectly how she had forced herself to stay up all night with Roy as he worked on his alchemy.
She mumbled, "Always the same one."
"Sorry." Roy's voice softened. His gaze softened too, seemingly relaxing for the first time as he regarded her face. She was pursing her lips in concentration. A small task, but it was becoming more and more taxing, her fingers trembling lightly as she tied the tiniest of knots.
"Rebecca sends her regards by the way," Havoc piped up, his trance ending when Riza finished sewing on the button.
The urgent sense of duty furrowing her brows had given way to exhaustion. "Thank you." She turned to face forward, but let Roy keep his hold around her waist. His thumb stroked up and down in soothing patterns.
"She—"
"Would you mind taking the dog out for me?" Roy interrupted, looking at Havoc. He then gave Riza a gentle nudge. "Come on, I think it's time to lie down."
"I'm fine," she protested, though only verbally as he herded her towards the stairs with a steady hand on the small of her back.
"I would feel better if you did. Please," he insisted. Had it not been for that touch of unease in Roy's tone, Havoc would have never pricked up his ears to hear the strain in hers. She might not have noticed herself.
Mellowly, Roy could be heard speaking behind the door of the bedroom. A minute passed until he emerged. Once down in the hall, Roy lowered his voice. "If Riza hears that Rebecca is coming over, she'll only get up again."
"Right." Havoc stole a glance up the stairs. "You meant the thing with the dog though, right?" He had already clipped on the leash, Hayate's tail wagging enthusiastically for his evening walk.
"I need to be here when your girlfriend shows up, don't I?" Roy crossed his arms. He leant with his shoulder against the wall, and Havoc got the feeling it was to rest more than anything. "I also meant the thing with the car I mentioned in the office. If you want, it's yours for the night."
"Sweet," Havoc cheered. "Thanks, chief. Oh, and tell Rebecca to wait here so I can drive us home?"
"Sure. One more thing."
"Yeah?"
"If you—" Roy debated with himself. "Another time."
"Well, that wasn't ominous at all," Havoc chuckled nervously, although he wasn't too concerned anymore. Taking Rebecca out for a ride in the car, picking a restaurant no matter the distance… What a treat of a Friday night!
"I'm just going to have to assign you, Breda and Fuery new duties for the time being. She doesn't sleep if I don't have a bodyguard… Breda and Fuery will have to share the responsibilities as my aide for the time being." Which was something he still had to tell them. No way in hell would he have done so right after Pilatus' waltz into his office. He didn't want to seem desperate. Not too obviously anyway.
Roy supressed his sigh until the front door had fallen shut. Then he wasted no time returning upstairs.
The curtains were drawn, the only light pooling in from behind him. He closed the door with a light click. The sheets rustled, but he didn't have to hurry to keep her in bed. It was past dinner – she had every excuse to retire for the day.
Roy knelt next to her side of the bed.
"Do you think he'll take the short or the longer round?" Riza whispered into the silence of the house. She unfurled one hand from the blanket, and he enclosed it in both of his.
"He has his own key," Roy reminded, remembering just in time not to tell her about Rebecca stopping by. Riza was still limited in her physical contacts, even though Roy knew he was being overly careful. She tugged on his hand, making him smile. He stamped each of her knuckles with his lips. "I won't be long," he promised. "But maybe I can get ready for bed while he's gone."
The doorbell rang.
"Maybe not," Riza quipped.
He chuckled, kissed her, and returned downstairs. The darn tea she had insisted on brewing, it came back to him. On the way back, he would bring it to her, he decided. First this.
Unaware of the inner turmoil pelting behind the front door, Rebecca merrily tapped her foot where she stood outside, a song stuck in her head. She couldn't wait to pester Riza with it, make it get stuck in her head as well to a point where Riza would call her in the middle of the night to complain that it was still there. Wouldn't be the first time.
Roy opened the door and invited her into the living room. It was convenient but at the same time too bad how Jean got along so well with his boss – Rebecca would have gladly stayed by Riza's side in his stead. Then again, Roy could manipulate Jean's hours as he pleased, not hers.
"Thank you for coming," Roy said as if they were meeting for official business. Rebecca wondered only then if perhaps he did have some mission or request for her.
She also wondered why she automatically chose the couch on the right despite Roy not having sat down yet. Jean's cologne reached her a moment later – a subconscious decision. This must have been his usual seat. She smiled to herself. She could never be angry at the dork for standing her up for days – he had taken care of her best friend. Their best friend.
"You make it sound like a threat. She is doing better though, right?"
"Yes," Roy's shoulders sank a little, "she is. She isn't doing herself a favour by bustling around the house all day but the fever is gone. I lent Havoc my car for the night," he said, somewhat out of the blue, "for his sacrifice, and…" He hesitated. His speech ended in a grimace Rebecca was sure hadn't been meant for her to see.
Jean had told her about Riza fainting and babbling nonsense. She could only speculate that Roy felt guilty about having a third party endure it.
"In any case, the same holds true for you and I find it only appropriate to honour your help as well."
"And I appreciate that," Rebecca slowly said, "but I hope you know I don't expect money for spending time with my best friend."
"Not money." Roy reached next to him, lifting a long, slim wooden box onto his knees that had been leaning against the couch. "My sources say this might be of interest to you though." He handed it to her across the coffee table.
Rebecca frowned. Glancing from his eyes to the box that was apparently lighter than it looked, she accepted it. A rifle, no doubt. Or a tripod? No, the case was too extravagant. Balancing it in her lap, she quickly removed the lid. Curls of wood shavings greeted her, but sure enough, she dug out a rifle. Not just any rifle.
"Is that…" she interrupted herself with a gasp, "a Meunier Carbine?" Another gasp, so loud she choked on it. "A 1916 Meunier Carbine?" Rebecca scooped it up, the box clattering to her feet, unheeded. "It is the year 1916, you madman!" She laughed. To be a General and have access to the latest of the latest! "Oh my gosh, it's self-loading," she squealed.
"I heard you're having a bit of a struggle with a colleague from time to time."
"Urgh, Monique," Rebecca groaned. "Always takes my stuff."
"And I thought that if the model itself wouldn't be enough," Roy ignored her dramatic interruption, "perhaps your name would be."
"My—" Rebecca flung the rifle onto its other side. "My name!" There, engraved not in the wood but into a polished, stainless-steel plaque. A Meunier Carbine – a 1916 Meunier Carbine – with her name on it. Custom made. No, alchemy made, Rebecca assumed. He couldn't very well commission something with her name on it without raising a lot of questions – favouritism amongst the most harmless ones. "Oh, thank you so much! In your face, Monique!" She aimed the barrel at the fireplace, eyes alight as she spied through the iron sights.
"Please don't shoot her," Roy chuckled.
Rebecca grinned innocently, collecting the box to carefully put away her gift. There was something about Mustang's posture; about his patience that struck her. The fact that he had this much patience with her antics despite the dark rims lining his eyes for one. Yes, Riza wasn't feverish anymore, but somehow, Rebecca got the feeling that—
She gasped again. Roy raised a brow, so she cleared her throat.
"Uhm, so, is Riza upstairs? Can I see her?" Go see her – alone. Roy was kind and mostly laid-back, but he was still a Major General and absolutely not someone to tell what was now burning on her tongue. She wiggled on the spot.
"I suppose," Roy allowed, looking on quizzically as she stood briskly to hide her eagerness.
Rebecca whizzed up the stairs before he could take the lead. He would take it as a sign not to follow, or so was the plan. Jean had mentioned the decreased tension – physical tension – before, and this proved it. Roy wasn't thanking Rebecca for keeping her lips sealed, but for her… moral support. It must have taken effect.
"Pssssst," Rebecca hissed, remaining by the door. A lump in the bed moved. "Hey Reez." More shuffling, then a questioning hum. An adorably drowsy hum. How she had missed her. And how jealous she was, not to have been the one by her side. "Congrats on getting laid," she snickered.
Riza made a crude noise of rebuke in the back of her throat. She grabbed a box of tissues, weakly throwing it in the general direction of the door.
Rebecca cackled devilishly, delightedly.
"Hayate, bite her," Riza croaked, but he was still out on his walk.
"So," Rebecca lowered her voice suggestively, "how is it? Pregnant sex any good?"
"So good," Riza breathed.
Rebecca laughed. "I'll leave you be. But not before you… clap, clap, clap your hands, get into a boogie stance—"
"Nooo," Riza whined. "Nooo, you monster!"
Rebecca laughed even more, singing the verse again until a pillow hit her square in the face. It didn't keep her from howling with laughter, Riza's wails turning into curses and coughing fits of laughter.
Roy and Jean stood at the bottom of the stairs, slightly alarmed. Rebecca waved off, sauntering down the meet them. Hayate squeezed past her and into the bedroom.
"Is she okay?" Jean asked. Mixture of concern and amusement played on his lips. Rebecca was glowing with content. She bore a self‑complacent smile, beaming even more once hugging her beautiful new rifle to her chest in the car. "Seriously, is she okay?" Jean pulled out of the parking space.
"Better than okay. Didn't you notice?"
"Notice what?"
"Your boss-es. Both of them." She gave him a look when he hummed cluelessly. "They're finally doing it again."
"Doing what?"
Rebecca's eyes glinted mischievously. "The naughty."
"Oh." Jean nodded. "Oh. I— I don't even want to know how you know that." His eyes flashed to her devious smirk and back to the road. "Okay, screw it. Spare me the details, but I really want to know how you know that. Also, I really want to—"
"Yes."
"Yes?"
"Let's do it." Her hand landed confidently on his thigh.
"In a borrowed car?" he laughed, heady with disbelief and excitement. "You weren't kidding about the naughty part, First Lieutenant."
"I meant at home. Slow down, Tiger."
"Rawrrr."
"You are so embarrassing…"