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The Unpublished Memoirs of Roy Mustang	By : nomdeplume Category: Fullmetal Alchemist > Yaoi - Male/Male > Roy/Ed Views: 710 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I don't own any rights to these characters or the Fullmetal Alchemist manga. These belong to Hiromu Arakawa. I don't profit off of this work of fanfiction.

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Xingian Emperor announces treaty with Amestris

SUZHOU -- Xingian emperor Jan Shan has released an official statement expressing his desire to establish a peace treaty with Amestris.

"I have been in contact with my 12th son, Ling Yao, who has spoken highly of Amestris and its people," said Shan in the release. "He says that he strongly supports the new regime, whether it is under the leadership of Colonel Roy Mustang or General Olivier Armstrong, and he felt strongly enough to support them in their rebellion against the previous administration. As long as Mustang and Armstrong are at the head of the Amestrian government, I will trust his judgment and extend an offer of peace to the country."

0o0o0

A month had passed since the rebellion, with Olivier doing much of the frontrunning for the government, but with me still doing much of the talking when it came to the press, even to a number of the higher-ups in the military and those vying for positions in the new government. It made for an odd mix of leadership between the two of us. She did what I wasn't currently capable of, the heavy lifting, and I did what she didn't want to. Sooner or later, I knew we would have to come to an agreement who would take up that position of fuhrer to lead the country, but things were still too far up in the air regarding my future and the situation in the county. It was better to begin healing Amestris' wounds left by the homunculi.

"What we have heard is there is a small faction in the south that is preparing for an uprising while they feel the government is on unstable ground. The group isn't large. General Armstrong said she doesn't feel that we need a large contingent of soldiers to take care of it, so that we are not depleted here and in other areas of the country. And as for the generals --"

"Riza..." I rubbed at my temples. "Please, can we take a break?" I nearly winced at the pathetic whine that crept into my voice as I said those words. Not because I never whined regarding paperwork; I did that quite often. It was the fact that I hadn't intended it to be there this time. I guess that was no surprise, though. I hated most when she had to dictate reports to me. Paperwork had always irritated the hell out of me. Who knew it could frustrate me more now that I couldn't do it on my own?

"Of course, Roy," she said. I could hear the pity in her voice, and it killed me. The last person in the world I wanted to feel sorry for me was Riza. "We can continue later." Her hand moved to cover mine, but I quickly recoiled.

"No. Don't ... just don't." I pulled off my glasses, smaller now than the ones I had worn before, but darkened and blocking out my eyes from most angles. I began rubbing at my eyes and the bridge of my nose. Sometimes, a part of my mind indulged in the idea that if I just rubbed hard enough, I would suddenly find the darkness that obscured my vision was gone. "I'm only just hanging on to my sanity, Riza. I can't take the pity." I could feel myself starting to break. The whole of it finally weighing down upon me. This was my world, or it would be until Olivier took her place as fuhrer and I was relegated to being paraded out on the anniversary of the battle, little more than one of the poor heroes who lost something precious while reforming the government. "Please."

She reached out and snatched back the hand I had pulled away. "No pity. I promise you that. This isn't pity."

I let out a sigh and opened my eyes, despite how pointless it was to try to look in her direction. Had the situation been different, I'd have been still caring for her as she recovered from the loss of blood and emotional impact of having hand her throat slit. I would have been the strong one and for once, she wouldn't have been rushed to recover so that she could take care of me. I would have said aloud all of the things that were now going through my mind. Instead, I knew there was no point in doing that now. There was no point now. I was little more than another responsibility that Riza dutifully took on.

I gave her hands a squeeze with my own and tried to control the wave of loss for my sight, for the future I'd envisioned for myself. I took deep breaths, and Riza, being the patient woman she was just waited. She sat at my side while I stared straight ahead. I couldn't break in front of her, even if she were the person I trusted most. I was going to ask her to get me some food, something to get her out of the room long enough for me to let the facade crack when something other than black greeted me. My breath hitched, and I felt Riza squeezing my hands. She must have heard me, but assumed it was something terrible.

She had no idea why I was reacting the way I was and moved to hug me, to offer comfort I didn't need. "Green was always your color," I said to her, getting an awkward thank you in return. She wasn't understanding. Not yet. I kept my eyes straight ahead, where a giant black blob remained, so that she was still in my periphery. I moved away from her arms and took hold of them so that I could guide her in my only small sliver of vision.

I let one of my hands move to her hair. "You always looked nice with your hair down. A little softer than when you're in uniform." I let my hands run through the beautiful blond tresses and a smile begin at the corners of my mouth. I could feel tears stinging my eyes and the smile spreading.

"Roy?" she asked hesitantly. "You can see me?" She tried to move in front of me, but I moved my hands up to her shoulders and moved her back to the side.

"Only in my peripherals," I said. "Still nothing in front of me." My voice was cracking, and I could feel the tears that would have blurred the vision that I still didn't quite have. My composure was fading quickly, but I didn't care. I could cry for going these weeks without my sight, I could cry for the possibility that not all of it would come back or that I would lose what I got again, and I could cry because I was finally able to make out that forest-green shirt and golden hair. I felt that I was finally "allowed" to shed tears, and I did.

"But you can see," she said. She didn't even ask; she merely said it as a statement. I nodded in response only to feel her arms around me, holding me tightly. She smelled of vanilla and violets, her shampoo I guessed, as her hair was now under my nose, tickling it. I knew I was crying harder than I had in a long time, but so was Riza, and I couldn't have said whether it was for happiness, sadness, or a bit of everything. One of my hands, still stiff despite physical therapy and healed wounds, was curling in her soft hair. "Roy, I'm so glad. I'm so happy for you." She now sounded like she was somewhere between laughing and crying. Or both. She moved her hand to my cheek and positioned herself so that she wasn't in what would have been my direct line of sight. "Am I clear?" she asked, and I noticed some faint movement before I felt a thumb moving up to my cheek. I closed my eyes reluctantly, afraid the gift would be revoked, as I felt the gun-calloused digit wiping the dampness at the corners of my eyes. When it moved away, I tried to manage the difficult balancing act of looking at her without actually looking at her; it was more of a feat than I would have thought.

"You are blurry, what I can see of you, but even that ... I can't imagine a better sight." I smiled and raised my own hand up to her cheek. As she had done for me, but with much less finesse, I wiped at tears -- of joy, I certainly hoped -- from her soft face. I wished she wasn't so unclear, or that I could see more than just a thin sliver of her face. I had to wonder if this was making her blush. I had seen that pink color rise to her cheeks on occasion, caused it more often than not.

Close as we were, cheeks nearly touching, I moved mine just that slightest inch. It crossed my mind briefly that I hoped my five o'clock shadow didn't bother her. I couldn't grow a decent beard to save myself, but stubble I managed very well. It must not have troubled her, as she moved slightly so that she was pressing her soft lips to my cheek. In all the years we had known one another, this was more contact than we'd ever had before, and with my vision still severely limited, I was indulging in her touch.

I knew Riza well enough that she was testing the waters. The kiss on the cheek was an intimate gesture, but it still could be brushed off as an interaction between friends if I didn't respond in kind. However, I knew what I wanted and had known for a very long time.

I turned my face to press my lips to hers. For all my reputation as a womanizer -- much of it earned, I will admit -- I have never been so grateful for the experience. Even without sight, muscle memory kicked in and I was able to target her lips without the use of my mostly-lost sense.

Though I didn't want to be ungrateful for what piece of my sight I'd gotten back, I did regret that I couldn't see her reaction. I couldn't know if she had her eyes closed or remained open. I couldn't see if her cheeks flushed again, or if the flush looked different from when I would tease her before. Instead, I relied on what I had. I touched. My hands and fingertips couldn't get enough of her soft skin, of tracing the features. I would have likely watched her, at least enough to get a quick look at her face as our lips met, to drink in the vision. Instead, I let my fingers do that.

Riza did not complain as I follow over her brow and her cheekbones, as I traced her jaw and ears, then down her neck. I wondered if I can map her like this. I felt the valleys and ridges of her collarbone, the faint line now permanently a part of her neck. The way her hair feels softer, downier at her neck before it becomes the thicker, coarser strands that cover the rest of her head.

I could feel her skin beneath my fingers, and her own hand and fingers were a welcome weight on my rough cheek and another resting now on my chest. We slowly parted, needing air, and slight taste of raspberries and mint lingered on my tongue. I heard her breath catching and the faintest of sighs escape her lips as we parted.

"I have wanted to do that for a long time," I admitted. "Long before you were wearing a uniform day in and day out."

"I had a crush on you when I would see you studying with my father," she said. Back then, she'd still been a teenager, and I had noticed she was a pretty girl then, but I'd been so singularly focused on learning that I hadn't paid her nearly the attention she'd deserved. Now, my focus was on her, and I knew that the admission she had just made would bring the pink color to her cheeks.

"I suspected," I admitted, and I had, even with my one-track mind when it came to alchemy. I smiled at her as I cupped her cheek. I pressed my lips to hers again, and I couldn't begin to explain the way it made me feel. It was familiar but not, comforting but exciting. I recalled Maes' favorite phrase when it came to Gracia's kisses, that it was like "coming home," but I'd always disregarded the comment. I found now that I shouldn't have ignored him. If my years of atheism were wrong, and often I hoped they were, I knew that somewhere Maes was laughing at me while shouting a loud "I told you so."

The kiss began as gentle as, though less tentative than, the first. I found my hands tracing over her features as we kissed and nibbled at one another's lips, moved tongues against one another. I allowed a hand to trace down her neck and felt the faint scar there. We both stopped abruptly at that. She pulled back, or at least tried while I held her close. My index finger trailed over the long, thin scar at her neck as my mind supplied the image of the sword at Riza's throat, slashing it open. It was one of the last clear images I had of her, and until that morning, I thought it always would be. I shuddered and quickly let my hand drop from her neck only so that I could pull her close again.

"I'm sorry," I whispered hoarsely. I found myself unable to find my full voice right now. "I'm so sorry."

"This was not your fault," she said. "You'd have had to have done it to me yourself to have kept me from going with you."

"And you call me the idiot." My hand at her cheek could feel the muscles pulling her lips up into a smile. She moved close again and pressed her mouth to my neck.

"I'm not an idiot," she said, shifting enough so that I could hear her clearly, "though maybe a bit of a masochist for putting up with you."

It was a wonderful, peaceful moment that passed between the two of us. I would have been content to keep it that way, but I could hear the doorbell ringing. Insistently. I groaned and tried not to grin too broadly when I heard her do the same, though inside, I was stupidly proud of myself for bringing the usually reserved woman to it. "Maybe we can ignore it," I suggested, only to have the ringing continue as though someone had fallen against the bell with no intention of getting up. Instead, I just sighed, realizing the pattern of the persistence was not all that different from a similar knocking style at the hospital. "I don't think ignoring it is going to happen. I have a sneaking suspicion that is Ed." Though, I had to admit that the fact he was actually at my house rather than the hospital was a bit of a surprise. I didn't think it could really be good, one way or another. Either Ed had bad news or he'd been forced from the hospital for one reason or another, which meant he was going to be disagreeable, more so than usual.

Riza removed her rather pleasant weight from my bed and walked from my bedroom. I placed my darkened glasses back on, and considered getting Ed to modify them so that they didn't obscure the only vision that I had. I did my best to stand from the bed and blindly, pardon the pun, grope for my robe, which Riza always left sitting on the back of the bedside chair. I pulled the robe on and carefully checked to ensure the seams were not on the outside. Prior to that day, I might not have been able to see what colors or styles Riza was dressing me in, but I could at least make sure that I didn't wear them inside-out or with the buttons in the wrong holes.

"Hawkeye, what a relief to see you. Could you do me a favor and get me away from this crazy man?" I heard Ed's familiar voice ring out from the entrance of my apartment.

"Lighten up, Ed," a second voice said, male and familiar largely due to the heavy Xingian accent. It must have been Ling Yao.

"'Lighten up?'" Ed's voice asked incredulously. "I was thrown from my brother's hospital room so he could do his physical therapy 'in peace,' and then to add insult to injury, I get stuck with your idiotic presence once you heard I was coming here to visit Mustang."

I chuckled as I made my way out of the door of my bedroom. Though Al very likely did need the space, it was probably a good thing that Ling Yao was there to detract from the fact that his brother didn't want him by his side all the time. I tied my robe around myself as I felt my sock-covered feet hit the wood floor of my hallway.

"Physical therapy can be rough," I said as I finished the knot. "It can even be painful." I spoke from experience on that, given the amount of it I was doing to recover the fine motor skills in my hands, which was coming along slowly. "That can make it difficult for friends or family to watch."

"There's no reason I couldn't have. I knew what to expect," Ed said, and I imagine to some extent that was true, given his automail. Al, though, was dealing with an entire body that wasn't working quite the way it should. "Still, doesn't mean I want to have to sit around with this asshole."

"You might want to stop calling me an asshole," Ling interrupted the remainder of Ed's rant. "As far as I'm concerned, I'm the heir apparent for Xing. Thanks to Greed, it isn't likely I'm going to meet some 'mysterious death' due to my siblings or their mothers." It took a long time for Greed to recover from how much that final fight against Bradley took out of him, but in my brief talks with the Xingian prince, it sounded as though the homunculus was still a part of him, but his weakened state gave Ling more control of his body than he'd had before, as long as Ling did things every so often to make Greed happy.

"Greed will be there to protect you, sure," Ed said, with an evil little smirk in his voice. "As long as the philosopher's stone holds out. If you keep this up, I might help speed up that process."

"Ed, will you please calm down?" Riza asked, sounding a little irritated, perhaps even a bit exasperated at the earlier interruption. Ed made a few disgruntled noises, as though the last thing he wanted to do was 'calm down,' but that he also knew better than to argue with Riza. I couldn't help but smirk. For once, I was not on the receiving end of either Riza's lecturing tone or Ed's frustration. It was a surprisingly nice feeling.

"Get that look off your face, Bastard Colonel. I have no problems hitting a blind man."

The mention of my blindness made me want to verify that it wasn't completely true anymore, and I pulled the glasses off and saw the faint line of color at the edges of my vision. I could see the small splash of yellow in Ling's direction and a surprising glimpse of red in Ed's. I repositioned my glasses again. "Wearing your red jacket again?" I asked, and I could hear Ling about to make a comment, likely something about my ability to see it, but Ed interrupted him.

"Yeah, Winry got it for me," Ed said, and I swear I could hear the blush that I knew was spreading to his face. I wondered if he knew he was that obvious when it came to the automail mechanic. "She said it didn't seem right that I didn't have my coat, but told me she could take it back if I didn't like it." He was talking very quickly, but paused long enough to snort at that. "Even if I didn't like it, I knew she couldn't take it back. It has custom inserts for all types of weather, it has the Flammel symbol on the back and a special liner on the right sleeve so that my automail doesn't catch on the fabric. Not that it would, well, not when she makes it. After I've abused it a little, or a lot, maybe."

I could hear a faint snicker from Riza at my right. "It was a very thoughtful gift," she said.

"Yeah. Which just sets the bar really high for me to fail when I have to return it with something like it," Ed said. "Because I know I'm going to. I don't do thoughtful well. With my luck, I'd probably end up getting her wrenches, which she'd see as an insult somehow, and she'd hit me with them. Seriously, I'm more likely to get attacked with a present than thanked for it. I don't know how you risk it, dating all the different women you do, Mustang. You can't possibly know them long enough to know their favorite things. Guess you're better at predicting what they'll like and all that shit than I am."

"I don't think he's going to be doing much of that dating now," Ling said. There was a pause, which I assumed was filled with Ed looking at Ling, very confused. "For calling me the idiot, you are a fairly stupid prodigy yourself. Look at them both. Don't they both look a little ... ruffled?"

There was something about the way Ling said that that very nearly embarrassed me, and I've never been the type to do so easily. I could hear Ed trying to come up with another explanation for why my hair, and apparently Riza's, was a bit mussed up, but none of them seemed any more believable to him than they did to me, and I knew they were wrong. His attempts soon drifted off into laughter. I imagine I was a sight, because I could practically feel that sheepish look moving to my face, but I had no ability to stop it, no more than the warmth in my cheeks. I didn't get like this over any of my conquests. But, then again, Riza wasn't a conquest. A force to be reckoned with, perhaps, but not a conquest.

"Well, about damned time," Ed said, still laughing. My own sheepish look spread to a smile. "Good. Though I wish I had gotten in on the pool on that one."

"Someone was betting on this?" Riza asked, sounding more incredulous than I really thought she or I had any right to be. After all, I don't think we were ever subtle about our attraction to one another. I know I'd never have let someone put me in my place as often and as thoroughly as Riza did it. And there were few joys I got that made me happier than teasing her just to the point of bringing a faint pink blush to her cheeks. I think we were fairly obvious.

"Everyone was betting on this," Ed said.

"I missed it by two weeks," Ling replied, sounding a little put out. "Ed, my friend, would you happen to have a few cenz to spare so that I can settle my debt with Lt. Breda, perhaps convince him to change it to ... a few minutes ago?"

"No, not for that. Not for the extraordinary amount of food you manage to put into that bottomless pit stomach of yours, not for some other harebrained scheme. No. Never."

"You wound me, my friend," Ling said, and I could imagine he was grasping his chest at the same time. "Would you give it to me if I could really prove you were a stupid prodigy?"

"As if you could," Ed shot back. "Go ahead and try."

"Roy asked you about that lovely red coat that Winry got you," Ling said, sounding rather self-satisfied. As I knew I would have a smirk on my face, I imagined Ling was wearing one, himself, though I knew I was probably getting some of his features wrong in my head; I hadn't had as much contact with him, particularly before Greed and my blindness, so I knew some things were wrong when I imagined him.

"Yeah, and I told him about it," Ed said. "How does that prove ..." I heard quick footsteps in my direction and felt the glasses being pulled roughly from my face. "Holy shit, you can see?" He was very close, enough that I could feel his body heat and the warm breath as he tilted my head down -- somewhat forcefully -- to look me in the eyes. "Your eyes are darker, too. A little, I think. But the edges definitely are."

I smiled. "I don't have my full sight back, just in the peripheries. So right now, you're a giant blob of black, but I can see either of my walls." Ed then tilted my head like I was some sort of science experiment he was determined to figure out, which it possibly was. However, I suspected that even those probably got more care than my neck did at the moment. I think he forgot that it was still attached to my head. "So you can see me now?"

"Yes. I see gold hair, bits of red. It's still a blur."

I could hear and feel the sigh of relief. "Good. When you traded in the circleless alchemy, I thought you were an idiot. An even bigger idiot because you didn't get your sight back in return. But it looks like the Gate is evening the score." He released my face and patted me on the back, hard. "Even if you need glasses, it's a hell of a sight better than well, no sight at all."

"That's a very bad pun," I said, dryly.

"You act as though I care."

I rolled my eyes and gestured to the glasses still in Ed's hands. "Think you can fix these so I can see at least out of the edges? It would have to be a bit disconcerting still for others to see my eyes as washed out as they are right now. I'd rather the extent of all of this stay a secret, but I don't want to pass up what I can see to hide it."

"Yeah, sure," Ed said, "though if I could finally see, I wouldn't want to be obscuring any part of my vision with tinted shades." I heard him set the glasses on the small circular table I kept in the hall to catch loose keys and change whenever I came through the door. He clapped his hands together and I could feel the alchemy crackle through the room. The sensation was stronger than I could ever remember having before going to the Gate, and I suspected that even if I'd given up the ability to do alchemy without a circle, I still retained some of the "gifts" the Gate had bestowed upon me. That fact and the need for equivalent exchange made me wary about the idea of ever fully getting my eyesight back.

"There you are," Ed said after the crackle of the transmutation had ended.

I placed the glasses on my face and turned to Riza. "How did he do?"

"Just fine," she assured me. "They look a little like Lt. Col. Hughes' used to, though a bit rounder."

I nodded and thanked Ed. "I'm getting a bit tired of standing, why don't we go somewhere we can sit down?"

"Sounds good to me," Ling said. "Lead the way." I walked into the living room, knowing the rest were behind me.

"The blind leading the idiot," Ed muttered behind me.

"Since I was the one who noticed your future fuhrer's entrance to the world of coupledom and his ability to see, I don't think I'm the idiot," Ling said.

I took a seat on the small sofa, feeling a warm weight beside me. I very nearly put my hand on the knee beside mine until I realized it had the distinct feeling of metal, even through the teen's pants. Whatever boundaries and distance we'd once had, they was long-since obliterated. Partly from our heated encounter in the hospital, I'm sure, but I think it started when I did my very best to spell out SHRIMP and RUNT in alphabet letters down Ed's legs while in the hospital. Apparently, I was not careful enough in arranging the letters, as I mistook a W for an N, but it got the message across all the same.

This time, as I felt someone settling onto the arm of the sofa, leaving the wing chair open, I knew that person was Riza. I could feel her hand at my shoulder, and it made me smile. "How long will Al's physical therapy last?" Riza asked Ed.

"About an hour. Maybe two if they get him into the pool and do a massage, which they might." I could feel Ed fidgeting beside me. "Mei Chan is going to be doing another round of treatments on his muscles probably after the physical therapy. Which means it could be more than two. Winry said she'd pop in during that. She wants to see if Mei Chan's work is something that can be incorporated into her automail, and Al's fine with being analyzed like that."

"I'm surprised you're not spending the two hours in the meantime with her," I said, feeling the fidgeting beside me getting worse. If he kept this up, he was going to shake both of our brains lose with the constant bouncing of his leg.

"She's doing some kind of girls' day out with Lan Fan and Teacher, though it will probably be dull for Winry. All those two want to talk about is fighting techniques." He sighed. "So instead of any of them, I get saddled with the would-be emperor, here."

"You make it sound like it's a punishment, Ed," Ling said, most likely with a grin. "In your place, I'd consider this early diplomatic relations with Xing." I could hear the sound of feet being placed on something wooden, likely my coffee table, which was not designed or intended to be a footrest. "And you're not doing a very good job of it."

Ed let out a slight growl. "You were obnoxious before Greed started messing around in your head. Now you're a step away from me killing you just to keep from losing my mind." I could hear the other teen laughing at Ed's words, clearly not threatened in the least. It was difficult to believe that anyone as carefree as Ling still appeared to be could possibly have a homunculus buried somewhere in his subconscious, waiting out its days through its host. "Better yet, why don't I show you that game Elysia taught Mei Chan."

"Patty cake?" Ling asked, then paused as though remembering what it entailed. "No, thank you. Though it would have been interesting if Brig. Gen. Mustang could still do alchemy that way. You two could play together, and I'd almost bet big explosives would happen."

"They still could," Riza said, giving my shoulder a squeeze. "You should have seen them when they dueled." That earned an excited sound from Ling, and I could hear his feet sliding off of the coffee table onto the floor. I imagined it was so he could lean forward in his seat. Riza described in some detail the fight, with Ed interjecting when her descriptions were a bit too biased in my favor. I had no issue about the way she told it, even when she described that I lost through a moment's hesitation.

"Why did you stop?" Ling asked me. "You had him right where you wanted him?"

"I was looking at a young kid prepared to blow him to smithereens. I can't quite say it was my first time in such a situation," I said, thinking I'd put an end to the conversation.

"Once you get your sight back, I want a rematch, so that none of this shellshocked, war hero stuff making it seem like it wasn't a fair fight," Ed said, never one to take the sensitive approach to others' emotions.

"Well, I suppose I should be grateful," I told him, turning my head in his direction, though it made it more, rather than less, difficult to see him. "You're at least going to wait until I can see."

"I said I wanted a fair fight. To win against you now, all I'd need is to learn how to throw my voice."

I could feel Riza's hand tightening on my arm, afraid Ed had managed to insult me, but I could only laugh. "When I do get my sight back, I'm not telling you. It will give me the upper hand."

"For maybe ten seconds, then I'll kick your ass."

"So this is how he talks even to the future fuhrer of his own country," Ling said with a chuckle. "At least I know that I don't receive any special treatment."

I laughed bitterly, not at the way Ed talked to me, that was common, but rather at the mention I would be fuhrer. Even if my sight was coming back slowly, I knew that the country would not want a nearly blind man as their leader at such a critical time. It would be a sign of weakness to the world. Though I'd not said the sentiments aloud, I had already accepted, or as close as I ever would, the idea that the title would go to Oliver and not myself. "I think you have too much faith in the people. Things are far too uncertain for them to willingly follow a cripple."

"They consider me a hero, didn't they?" Ed asked, an edge to his voice. Normally, he didn't like that label the people gave him, but he was using it to make a point, both that they would follow him if he asked them to and to imply that despite his automail, a small part of him and some of the country would consider him handicapped. But at least what impeded Ed could be fixed with machinery, no amount of advanced medical science could understand, let alone fix, what had happened to me. Even Mei Chan had insisted there would be nothing she could do, that her work would simply be interference for whatever was going on with his eyesight.

"You already have the support of the people. Your man Fuery guaranteed that. The whole time the battle underground was raging, he was at the radio station. It was the best publicity a leader could ask for. Besides..." Ling said, then let out a noise as though he were stretching. "It isn't likely that this country, for all its 'forward thinking' is ready for a strong female leader. From what I've managed to gather, the whole reason Maj. Gen. Armstrong was sent to the Drachman front was because most of your military couldn't deal with her rising to such a high rank and staying in the main playing field."

I started to protest, but I felt Riza's hand move across my back between my shoulders. "The last promotion I received was at your insistence," Riza said, directing the statement at me. "There is some truth to what Ling is saying."

I scoffed. "Then all the more reason for me not to take advantage of a nation's prejudice. That would be one hell of a victory on my part. The country isn't happy that I can't see a damned thing, but I'm a better option because I've got the right parts below the waist?" I shook my head. "No. Olivier can have it, and she'd do well." I could feel Riza rubbing over my shoulders. It was strange, all of this touching, as though something had been set loose finally between the two of us at the admission of how we'd always felt. I had thought it might start slow, but we fell into it naturally, my own hand now moving to Riza's knee. I wanted to reassure her that despite all of the playboy instincts that came naturally to me, for good reason, I did genuinely respect women. (The one time I showed enough disrespect to actually grab a girl's behind at the age of fourteen had led to my Aunt Chris beating the hell out of me. It had been a quick and painful lesson that kept my thinking toward the "fairer sex" on the right track.)

"I wanted to tell you, though," Ling said, "I spoke to my father and told him to offer the olive branch, to use an Amestrian phrase, but only as long as you and General Armstrong are the ones in power."

"So I heard," I said. "Your father is willing to go on just your word?"

"The fact that Mei Chan and I have come to a truce has helped. For the royals in two separate tribes to be peaceable with one another, it's almost unheard of. One way or another, Mei Chan will be close by when I am emperor. If not as a wife, then as an advisor."

"But she's your sister!" came Ed's shocked voice, not without a bit of disgust behind it.

"Half," Ling corrected him. "And it isn't like it is uncommon with royal families. I don't know yet what decision I'll make on that. The practice of choosing a woman from each tribe to bear children is a little passe, especially if I want to unify the country. Besides that, I think Lan Fan might have my head for even thinking it."

"I know I would," Riza mumbled. "Your head or your balls."

Ling apparently didn't hear her, but that might have been difficult over my half-choked laughter. I cannot remember a time when I heard Riza use the word "balls" in that particular meaning, which made its sudden appearance in her vocabulary all the more amusing. It was also a sharp reminder not to get her angry. I quite liked my family jewels right where they were.

Ling and Ed stayed until they were sure that Al would be done with his physical therapy and treatment with Mei Chan. When they finally left, I pulled Ed aside -- by the automail so that I was sure it was him. "Ed, I know you are angry that you had to leave your brother, but it is possible Al wanted you to take a break from the hospital as much as he needed some time to think on his own. Don't take this out on him." I felt him take a deep breath as his shoulder rose and fell beneath my hand. "Or he could have been sick of being around you twenty-four-seven." Ed sharply smacked my hand from him.

"Bite me, Colonel Bastard."

"I'm a brigadier general, you know," I said.

"Colonel rolls off the tongue better," he replied. "Make it to Fuhrer or at least General, and I'll see about changing it." He walked out of my apartment and shut the door behind him.
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The Unpublished Memoirs of Roy Mustang