It's late as Rebecca sits in a corner of the hospital room, idly flipping pages of a beauty magazine, occasionally commenting.

"Did you know that cucumber extract actually reduce puffiness and redness around the eyes? I always thought it was just for show!"

Riza is barely listening, waiting for word. Roy's message, delivered by Fuery had only confused her. She'd heard on the radio that Grumman was temporarily named acting Fuhrer-President. King Grumman….I can't say I'm altogether surprised, considering.

Olivier Armstrong, she knows because she heard the tirade from down the hall, is furious. Eventually, Riza supposes, she'll be content to return to her fortress in the North. That woman takes her duty seriously, and after the loss of some of her most reliable subordinates, she'll want to retake the reins herself, even if she doesn't see that quite yet.

Miraculously, it seems none of the other members of their team are injured. She's worried about the Colonel, surprised that he hasn't been here.

Don't be ridiculous, she chides herself. He has a million more important things to do, handling the fallout of all this.

"Are you even listening to me?" Rebecca sounds peevish.

"No," Riza replies honestly. "It's been a long day, Bex."

The nickname soothes the burn, and Rebecca smiles.

"How are you feeling, any better?"

Riza's bloodloss had been severe, but Mae's alkahestry had done its work well. She still had a few stitches in her neck, and her shoulder had needed surgery. It's bandaged, now, her range of motion limited. They've given pain meds, but the ache is still there.

"I'll live," she mutters with a wan smile.

There's a knock at the door, and she looks up hopefully. The sight that greets her when it opens draws a startled gasp from Riza's lips.

"Hey, hey, whaddaya know?" Havoc drawls, strutting into the room, standing on his own two feet.

"What? How?" Is all she can think to say.

"Chief hooked me up," He grins. "A truck picked me up from the family store a few hours ago. Said he owed me for my support." He chuckles. "That Doctor from Ishbal, Marcoh? He still had a Philospher's Stone. Chief struck a bargain with him, and he used alchemy to restore my body."

Riza can see beyond the confident swagger. Havoc is deeply touched.

"Jean, that's wonderful. I'm so very glad."

"Hey, congrats," Rebecca offers.

"Brigadier General Mustang even put in the papers already for my reinstatement, and a promotion to boot. Special circumstances."

Riza's tired mind can only grasp one part of the sentence. "Did you just say 'General'?"

"What? No fair! What did you get?" Rebecca asks.

"You're talkin' to Captain Jean Havoc, official starting tomorrow morning! Hawkeye, you're gonna be taking orders from me, now!"

"Oh, now, I wouldn't speak so quickly, if I were you, Mr. Havoc." Riza looks back towards the open hospital door to see her grandfather. Rebecca rises immediately in a salute.

"Fuhrer-President, Sir!"

Riza can only manage a sloppy salute with her good arm.

"With so many of the higher-ups found to be involved in all of this, there's quite a power vacuum to be filled, plenty of field-promotions to go around." Grumman beams, and an aide appears at his side, sporting a box of various epaulets of different rank. "Let me see here. Ah, yes."

"Lieutenant Catalina, I think it's about time I bumped you up to First Lieutenant. You've done excellent work for me, and I expect that work to continue, young lady."

"Sir." Rebecca gives a slight bow and walks forward to receive the trappings of her new rank. "Thank you, sir. I'll continue to serve with honor!"

"And Lieutenant Hawkeye," Grumman's eyes are soft, and Riza blames the pain medication when hers grow misty as she surveys the grandfather she barely knows. "I understand from General Mustang that your actions, last night and today, go above and beyond the usual call for bravery and sacrifice. You've done a tremendous service, to him personally, and to your country."

Riza bows her head.

"I grant you the rank of Lieutenant Colonel." He steps forward and actually pins the epaulet to her hospital gown. "I'm very proud of you, Lieutenant Colonel."

"Thank you, sir," she says quietly, looking into his bright blue eyes.

"That's good to hear." A new voice rings out. A most familiar, dear, desperately desired voice.

"Colonel?" She cranes her neck to look around Grumman, and winces.

"Didn't you hear? That's Brigadier General Mustang to you, now."

"Sir!" Now, she does try to stand, but Grumman puts a gentle restraining hand on her shoulder.

"Easy there, Hawkeye," Mustang says with a frown. "I don't want you opening up any of those wounds."

"You-can you see me, sir?" Her eyes are wide as she takes him in. His eyes no longer looked clouded, and in fact, he's looking right at her, meeting her gaze.

"I can," he smirks. "Dr. Marcoh's Philosopher's Stone worked its miracle for Havoc, and for me also."

The relief she feels is so palpable, Riza sags back into her pillows.

"I'm so glad, sir. So, so glad," she says weakly.

They hold one another's gaze for so long that the intimate moment starts to make the others uncomfortable. Havoc rubs the back of his neck, looking away. Rebecca clears her throat and buries her face in her magazine, and Grumman chuckles slightly, clapping his hands together.

"Now, then, if the rest of you will clear the room, I'm going to need a moment to speak to the Brigadier General and Lieutenant Colonel alone. Matters of national security, I'm sure you all understand."

"Sir," one of the soldiers who has accompanied Grumman starts to protest, but Grumman holds up a hand.

"Are you armed, Lieutenant Colonel Hawkeye?" He asks, not bothering to look at her. She pulls a pistol from under her pillow, smiling wryly. "Ah, yes that's plenty enough security for me," he says with a chuckle.

The others file out of the room, and Hawkeye and Mustang share a glance.

"Now then," Grumman says, looking between then. "We have something very important to discuss."

"Yes, sir. How can we serve you, sir?" Mustang asks.

Grumman chuckles.

"Oh, I think you can stop with the brown-nosing, now Mustang," he says, eyes gleaming with good humor. "I've effectively made you my second-in-command already, and I do believe your time will come, m'boy."

Roy smirks.

"Yes, the Fuhrer President and I have come to terms. We should fill you in, Hawkeye." Her head is spinning. "He's been named the Fuhrer for the time being, and he'll maintain control until things stabilize."

"In time, the title will become somewhat figurative, as I appoint a council to rule alongside me. Then in, oh, say three years or so, we'll hold ourselves an election."

Roy's eyes are glowing with the light of ambition she knows so well.

"I'll earn the people's trust," he vows. "And when the time comes, I'll earn the title."

"With my full support and backing," Grumman finishes. "But, that's all neither here nor there, we have more important things to discuss."

"Sir?" Mustang's brow furrows in consternation.

"I'm talking about my granddaughter's future of course." The older man's eyes glow with pride again as he takes in the woman in the hospital bed.

"Yes, sir?"

"Roy, m'boy, listening to your recounting of the events below ground only confirmed to me that which I have suspected for a very long time." He turns to stare hard at the younger man.

"You're in love with my granddaughter, Mustang."

The silence in the room is complete apart from the mechanical sounds of medical equipment. Roy looks at the floor, his teeth gritted, while Riza looks down at her hands folded against the sheets.

"Well, that confirms it then!" Grumman chortles. "I can see you feel the same, my Riza."

"Grandfather," she starts, not sure of what to say. "I-"

"Don't worry, I'm not here to interfere in your personal lives," Grumman says, making a dismissive gesture with one hand. "In fact, that's exactly what I'm trying to say."

"Sir," Roy interjected quietly, "Lieutenant Colonel Hawkeye has always behaved with the utmost courtesy and professionalism. If-"

"No, Riza cut in. Colonel, don't try to say it's one-sided or take all the blame. That isn't fair." Riza felt panicked. How had they come so far, endured so much for this to be the one thing standing in his way? She couldn't abide it. "The- the Brigadier General," she corrected herself, "has never acted in the slightest way inappropriately, Grandfather. Please, don't-"

"That's not as true as I'd like it to be, sir," Roy admitted, a vein above one eye twitching. "I see, considering the events of the past twenty-four hours why my inability to act impartially has-"

"No, no, no," Grumman interrupted, and Riza realized he was actually laughing. She dared a quick glance towards Mustang, but his gaze remained fixed upon her grandfather. "If anything, Mustang, I have to admit your actions rather prove your ability to remain impartial."

Now, Roy's eyes snapped briefly to hers, before darting back.

"As entertaining as it would be to listen to you both try to deny it, I'm no fool." His gaze turned shrewd as he appraised Mustang, then softer as he took in his granddaughter. Then he sighed. "No, what I wanted to tell you both is this. I'm not changing the anti-fraternization laws. They're in place for a reason, to protect subordinate officers from unwanted attention." He held up a hand when Riza started to interject again that this was not the case. "I know, I know. The two of you are a, eh, a rather unique case. No, what I'm trying to tell you is that I won't stand in your way."

Riza sees Roy's mouth drop, and he can't seem to help his exclamation, "What?!"

"Discretion, m'boy, is the thing. Now, if this conversation ever comes back at me, I can assure you, you will regret it." His steely gaze fixes on Roy again.

Mustang folds his arms, glaring. "I see now, this is leverage. You intend to hold it over my head, keep me in line."

Riza's eyes widen, and she looks quickly back at Grumman, who to her surprise is chuckling as he removes his glasses to clean the lenses.

"You are determined to misunderstand me, Mustang. We'll be needing to work on that." He lifts the glasses up to the light, squinting. "I'll run interference where I can. I won't cover up a direct assignation, you'll understand, but I won't allow rumor to flow unchecked, either. Keep an eye on your own people, use discretion, don't let the press get wind of it. And if you continue to play your cards right, once you're elected, I can't see that anything will stand in your way." He replaces his glasses and smiled pleasantly.

"Now, Mustang, my granddaughter needs to rest. So, I'll station a guard outside her door for, mmh, perhaps an hour. Give you some privacy, a chance to talk, and beyond that it will be up to you." He steps closer, and grasps Riza's hand, and she meets him with bewildered eyes.

"Grandfather…"

"Riza, my darling, I don't say it enough, but I care about you- and about your happiness- a great deal. I'm very, very proud of you. Please rest, care for yourself."

"Thank you," she says, quietly, squeezing his hand.

Grumman straightens, dusts his hands, and says, "Well, that's settled then. Mustang, my office, eight o'clock. We have a lot of work ahead."

Roy straightens with a salute. "Yes, sir."

Grumman chuckles again. "First Lady of Amestris, yes, I think I like the sounds of that," he murmurs, leaving Hawkeye and Mustang, finally alone.

The door clicks shut behind him. They both wait a beat, but no one else enters the room. Roy narrows his eyes, then glances furtively out the little glass window. The shade is pulled shut from the outside. It's as close a semblance of privacy as they're likely to get. He looks back at Riza and takes a deep breath.

"Sir," she says quietly. There's so very much to say, but how to say it all? Where to begin?

"That was…unexpected," he says dully, then steps closer. He looks exhausted, but his eyes are gentle as they rest upon her. "It's…it's so good to see your face," he admits quietly. "How are you?"

"Please, sit down, sir. You look like you might fall over at any moment," she insists, gesturing to Rebecca's abandoned chair in the corner. A brief look of irritation passes across his features, but he sighs, then, unexpectedly, drags the chair close to the bed and sits beside her.

"How are you?" He asks.

Riza takes a breath. "Tired," she answers honestly. "But I'll mend. And you, sir? You can see? And your hands?"

He smiles. "It's a miracle," he says simply. "All of it. Marcoh said he could probably have healed my eyesight completely, but I needed my hands to work, so…" He trails off, then, slowly, hesitantly reaches for her hand and encloses it in his. "I'm so glad you're alright."

Riza feels tears burn, and shuts her eyes tightly. "You, too, sir." They're both silent a beat too long, and the silence becomes tense.

Roy scratches the back of his neck with his free hand.

"After all this I'm afraid I- uh- Hell, I don't know what to say." He shakes his head.

"You don't have to say anything."

"I do. Of course I do. I almost-you…," He trails off exasperated at his own ability to form words. "You almost died because of me," he finishes, finally, shaking his head.

"That's not true," Riza says, determinedly. "I knew the risks, the same as you and everyone else."

"No one else was stabbed across the throat because of the leverage their life held over me," Roy growls, and she can't really think of anything to say to that. "And before that. When- with Envy. I owe you an apology for that, too."

"I'm the one who should be sorry for that," Riza insists, tears springing to her eyes again. Damn all these medications. "I should never have pulled my weapon. I should have trusted-"

"No," Roy interrupts. "No, Lieutenant, you did the right thing." He swallows audibly. "I'm very glad you did. I-I lost it. It-it was for Hughes." He gives a helpless little shrug. "That doesn't justify it, though."

"I'll never forget that moment," Riza admits quietly. "But you more than made up for it." She meets his gaze, then, and her eyes are fierce and bright. "You were so strong, sir. To resist them. I-I was proud of you, if that's not inappropriate of me to say, sir, I mean-."

"Damn it, can we just drop ranks?" Roy growls. "Speak freely, just talk to me."

"Yes, si-," she catches herself. "Okay. Yes."

"Good. Okay then."

Now, with the barrier of rank symbolically removed, they both fall silent again. Riza stares down at the sheets, horrified to feel her cheeks blush pink. His hand feels so solid and warm in hers. It's a nice feeling.

"Well, that's not getting us anywhere, is it?" Roy says, chagrined. He squeezes her hand gently. "Let's try this." He leans forward, over her, and then his lips are ghosting across hers in the gentlest caress of a kiss.

"Roy," she murmurs, her eyes falling closed.

"Grumman's right, you know," he says quietly. "I love you. I've always loved you."

"I love you, too," she whispers, and reaches for him. He kisses her again slowly and softly, and she opens her mouth to him.

Roy pulls out of the kiss first.

"I'm so glad you're alive," he says, squeezing her hand, resting his forehead against hers. Riza gives a little chuckle.

"I followed orders," she says. "We all did, even you." She can feel the puff of breath from his answering laugh, and the intimacy makes her shiver.

"I'm glad," he repeats, and she nods."What did the doctors say?"

"They gave me blood transfusions. Stitches. Surgery on my shoulder, because it sliced across the tendons, but it isn't bad. They say they'll release me as soon as the bandages come off, a few days at most, and I'll regain full range of motion quickly."

"Good," he nods. "That's very good." He pulls back from her slightly, his fingers delicately tracing the visible skin of her upper neck and chin, careful to avoid the stitches where she was cut. "You're so lovely," he says.

She gives a raspy little chuckle. "I'm still covered in blood and grime."

"I never thought I'd see you again. You're lovely." His tired eyes drink in the sight of her, and Riza smiles.

"I never thought you would, either." She reaches out to cup his cheek in her hand, and he leans into the touch.

He moves back after a moment, shaking his head as if to clear it. "So, did Grumman just-?"

"Give us his blessing?" she finishes the thought. "I think so." Roy huffs out an awkward laugh, releasing her hand. She wishes he hadn't.

"What does that mean, then?" He asks.

"Well, logistically, it's-," He cuts her off.

"No. No, what does it mean for us?" The question hangs between them, and she doesn't know how to answer, doesn't know what he wants.

Of course, it will be on his terms, whatever he wants.

"What do you want, Riza?"

She blinks in surprise. "Me?"

"Yes, you." He sighs. "Grumman has a point about anti-frat regs. I'm the superior officer, I can't ignore that. I need to know what you really want, now, no ranks between us, just ... .just us." She takes a deep breath, frowning.

"I," she hesitates. "I suppose I want what I've always wanted." She shrugs, meeting his concerned gaze. "I want an opportunity to work with you towards change. Now that we've found the source of it all, Ishbal, everything…I want a chance to make things better. And I still want to see justice done." His eyes flash, and she knows he's aware she means war crimes tribunals. "I don't see that happening with Grumman in power, for obvious reasons. So I still want to be able to work under you and support you, to achieve the presidency for you."

Roy nods, slowly.

"As for the rest," she gives a helpless little shrug, and winces when the motion hurts her shoulder. His brow crinkles in concern. "I don't know. I never really believed I'd get a chance to choose." She sighs. "Working under Bradley, I missed you, so, so much. I missed you every moment of every day." The little half-smile working its way across his face encourages her to continue. "Not just the working relationship, which I did miss, too. But I missed joking and laughing with you. I missed the sound of your voice, even. That sounds silly, doesn't it?"

"No, it doesn't. I felt the same way." She gives him a hesitant smile.

"The times we've been…intimate, together…I cherish those. But I wouldn't give up the everyday contact with you for anything." He takes in a quick breath, his eyes close briefly, then he nods.

"I understand, Lieutenant, thank you, I-,"

"No, stop," she interrupts. "No, Roy. That's not what I'm saying."

"Okay," he says slowly. "Go on."

"I think what I'm saying….is that I want all of it." He blinks at her owlishly for a moment, then his face breaks into a grin. "I want the everyday camaraderie. You're my best friend. And I want to be with you, after hours, and love you." She stops just short of saying, "I want to build a life together" because if they continue to move forward with all their plans, they might not have much of a life to build. It still might all end, in prison sentences, a firing squad, executions. Justice. And she still wants that.

"I want it, too," Roy says, taking her hand in his again, kissing the back of it and then holding it against his cheek. She smiles warmly.

"I….I still want to serve as your bodyguard, if you'll have me. It might seem a conflict of interest, and after everything that happened today, and I don't know if you…" She trails off, uncertain, and Roy shakes his head.

"No. Today proved to me what I've always known. I wouldn't want anyone but you to guard my back." His eyes lower. "I've always known that the capacity for darkness is in me. That's why I asked you, in the first place, to keep me on the right path." He sighs. "But that's a much more serious request to make of a," he breaks off, uncertain…"A…paramour. Than a subordinate."

"Paramour?" She smiles. "I think we can do better than that." He winces and chuckles. "But, seriously, it's not a request you're making. I'm offering it." She seeks out his eyes and finds them. "Because I trust you not to need me to threaten you that way. Not ever again."

"No," Roy shakes his head. "Never. I promise you, Riza." She nods.

"Okay, that's settled, then." She gives a tired sigh and shifts against her pillows.

"I should go," Roy says quietly, observing her. "You're exhausted, you're still recovering, I should let you rest." She opens her eyes.

"Please don't go, yet," she says quietly, beseechingly. He smiles and leans forward again, kissing her gently and squeezing her hand.

"Okay." She feels sleep tugging at her, courtesy at least in part of the medication being pumped into her system, and she closes her eyes.

His hand releases hers, and she hears a creak, as he stands. He fiddles with the rails of the hospital bed a moment, and they fall with a slight clatter, leaving the side of the bed open. He moves the chair alongside the bed and sits, gently taking her into his arms.

"If not paramour," he asks, thoughtful, "how exactly should I refer to you? Girlfriend sounds awfully juvenile."

Riza chuckles.

"Lovers?" she suggests, and he makes a noncommittal noise. Then, the answer comes to her. "Partners." The sound Roy makes this time is one of deep satisfaction.

"That's what we've always been, isn't it?"

Riza leans against him and breathes deeply as he brushes a kiss against her forehead. It must be an uncomfortable position for him, but he stays there holding her as her breaths begin to grow deep and even.

"I'm right here, Ria," he says quietly. "I've got you."