FicWad

I can't really explain why it started the way it did. We'd been friends for years. We'd go to hell and back for each other - with ease, since I doubt there's any hell worse than Roy's apartment on that night: creeping stench, buckets of things indistinguishable in the gloom, loaded gun on the table, and an utterly shattered look in Roy's eyes. Surely if something was going to happen, it would have happened earlier.

It didn't really make sense for something so momentous to start on a really rather ordinary night.

We were just having a few drinks together. We did it all the time back when Roy was still in Central. I'd just completed a successful undercover mission, so I was still out of uniform, and Roy had on street clothes for the occasion as well. Maybe that was slightly out of the ordinary, but it wasn't anything earth-shaking. We were at a table in the corner instead of our normal seat at the bar, but that was probably excessively cautious; there were a few more people around than usual, but the place was still mostly empty. Sometimes I suspected that the only reason that place stayed open was that military officials tended to stop in from time to time, and on occasion tip heavily if their visit required more than the usual about of discretion.

Above all, I can't understand why I kissed Roy then. It was possibly the most unutterably stupid thing I've ever done. I can't even blame it on being drunk. I'd had a glass or two of the place's sub-par whiskey, but no more than that. After all, I had a newly pregnant wife to get back to. That always slaps me in the face, when I think about it - that my faithfulness as a husband extended to that, but not to refraining from kissing my best friend in the middle of a public bar.

I'm not even sure exactly what prompted it anymore. I'd been telling Roy about the less official details of my recent mission.

"He took one look at the picture, and said, 'That's amazing! It almost looks like she was posing for it! Who is she?' And I said, 'the wife of an up-an-coming major in Intelligence.'"

Roy snorted. I grinned at him and continued.

"'A major, huh?' he said. 'Not too bad. I should be able to get something for it. Who is he?' 'Me,' I said. 'Major Maes Hughes, Intelligence. I'm going have to take you into custody now.'"

Roy rolled his eyes. "Honestly, I'm surprised you didn't hug him instead."

"Ah, well, his obvious appreciation of the finer points of beauty must come second to the danger involved in marketing photos and information of families of high-ranking officers."

"Your devotion to your job is admirable." Roy said dryly. I sketched a mock salute before reaching for my whiskey.

It was all completely, comfortably normal. I looked up from my drink to see Roy studying the ice in his glass with a small smile quirking his lips.

And then... something snapped. I reached across the table and threaded my hands through Roy's hair. I caught a split second of his surprised look before I pulled him in for a rough kiss.

The warmth of his lips hit me like a physical shock, and after a second I loosened my grip on his hair and dropped my hands to the back of his neck. But then Roy brought both hands to my chest and pushed me firmly away. His eyes quickly went to scan the room. My heart, already beating faster than it had been a moment ago, quickened to double-time as a bolt of panic shot through me. That had been an incredibly, incredibly bad idea. Something like that stretched the bounds of the secrets this place could hold. If anyone had seen-

I whirled and looked around. Amazingly, it seemed all the other customers were too absorbed in their conversations or their drinks to have seen, and the bartender was stacking glasses at the back of the bar.

I relaxed only briefly, before stiffening again and turning back to Roy with a sinking sense of dread. After one last lingering glance at the pair of men closest to us, he looked back and met my eyes.

I don't really know what I was expecting form him. Anger at my incredible stupidity, maybe. Or a wry joke that perhaps my alcohol tolerance was waning in my old age. Or just a confused question of what the hell I thought I was doing.

But he was silent, and the look in his eyes wasn't any of those things. It was... desperate.

All my sensible worries and guilt just flew completely out of my head. They must have. That's the only explanation for what I did next.

I reached for Roy again.

Fortunately, he caught my hand before I could try our luck again. He didn't let go of my hand, though, and his eyes glittered black in the dim lights.

"Not here," he said, his voice rumbling low.

I should have apologized, right then. Or said, "Not ever, I have to get back to Gracia," and ran. But something about the timbre of his voice was like flicking a switch.

"Where?" was what I said, barely above a whisper.

*

By the time we got to his apartment, I'd recovered some speck of rationality. Not enough, though. Considering all that we've done since, it's not much consolation that I didn't jump into the first time with open arms. Though, really, I may as well have.

He wordlessly opened the door to his apartment. I stepped just inside, not daring to go any further, and he reached around to close the door behind me.

He hadn't turned on the light, so the apartment was lit only by moonlight and the streetlights outside the window. He walked a few paces, and then turned to face me. He was mostly backlit, so I couldn't read his expression. I wondered if that was deliberate.

I could still have stopped things then, I think. "Roy..." I started. But I have no idea what I would have said after that, and I have no way of knowing, because before I could get any further, my back was against the door, Roy's lips were hard on mine, and my mind was wiped blank.

His tongue pressed between my lips, and I opened them without thinking. As he moved closer, 'blank' ceased to be an appropriate adjective. I still couldn't think anything coherent, but it was because there was no room in my brain for it among the fiery want burning through my every nerve.

Suddenly his hair was in my fingers again, and I was kissing him back. I like to think that some part of me was still aware of what a bad idea that was, but honestly, if there was, it was quickly overwhelmed.

Roy's hands ran from my shoulders down my chest, and in short order he was tugging my shirt out of my pants and slipping his hands underneath.

The feel of having Roy's hands on my skin was enough for my hands to tighten is his hair, and me to pull away from the kiss for a moment to let out a gasp.

I swear I saw a shadow of a smirk on his face as he pulled his hands out from my shirt. It may have had something to do with the instinctive sound of protest I made as cool air touched where his hands had been.

Before I could form anything more coherent, though, he had plucked my glasses off my face, dropped them gently to one side, and was tugging upwards at the hem of my shirt.

It took me an embarrassingly long time to realize what was necessary, but once I let the soft strands of Roy's hair fall through my fingers, he had my shirt off in a second. The air was only cool on my skin for a moment before Roy's hands were back, roaming over the planes of my chest like he wanted to touch it all at once.

His eyes seemed far too absorbed in the play of shadows on my chest, so I touched his chin and lifted his face to mine. And then we were kissing again, so naturally that I wasn't sure who had moved first. I dropped my hands to his waist, hooked my fingers in his belt loops and pulled him closer. He slipped his hands around to my back, so there was enough room to press our bodies completely together.

I made some muffled sound into the kiss. I could feel him hard against my thigh, and the heat of it was noticeable even through both our pants. My own erection stiffened in response.

Roy made a pleased noise, and his lips slipped from mine to nibble at the stubble along my jaw line. I tilted my head back to allow him access. He mouthed down my neck, and when I felt the graze of teeth at the pulse point of my throat, my legs threatened to give out.

"Fuck, Roy..." I choked out, and even at that moment I was a bit frightened by how needy I sounded. My hands clutched at his waistband. I wanted to touch his skin so badly it was almost painful, but I was in no state to figure out how to manage it.

I felt a shudder run through Roy's body almost as clearly as if it had been my own.

"Bed," he growled against my neck, before disentangling himself enough to head in that direction.

The lack of him against me shouldn't have felt as wrenching as it did after only a few minutes. I couldn't do anything but follow him. As he walked, he stripped off his clothes with the ease of familiarity, and by the time he reached his bed and turned to me, I was confronted with a completely naked Roy Mustang. I'm not entirely certain how he managed that; it certainly wasn't my main concern at the moment. My attention was completely focused on the lean lines of his body that I often forgot lay underneath the bulk of his uniform. And on his eyes, hooded as he looked at me. And on the shadows his hipbones cast in the angular light. And, of course, at his cock, visibly flushed dark even in the dim room.

I managed only a step towards him before his hands were at my waist, unfastening my pants and steering my back toward the bed. He showed my pants down a few inches, and then reached inside, and the feel of Roy's hand around my cock did make my legs give out.

I slumped back against the edge of the bed, and Roy gave me one quick stroke before releasing me to pull off my boots and slide my pants the rest of the way off. Then he climbed up onto the bed beside me, and I had barely gotten myself together and swung my legs around to face him before he was between them, climbing up and pinning my shoulders to the bed, nuzzling at my neck, running his teeth along my collarbone. When he shifted his hips and our erections pressed together the pleasure was so intense I thought I might black out. Instead I just moaned, low and deep, and arched into Roy's body.

Roy pulled himself up, and there was that smirk again, much more visible this time, and then it vanished as he slithered back down my body.

I don't know what I was expecting at the time - I doubt I could have thought coherently enough to expect anything, honestly - but the feeling of Roy's lips sealing around my cock came as a complete surprise. It's a sensation I'll never forget, one second only to the sensation that came when Roy shifted forward and let more of my cock slide down his throat.

I didn't last very long like that. How could I possibly? It seems like only a few seconds of heat and suction passed before I was coming down his throat, hands once more threaded through his hair, and mouth repeating his name like a mantra I wasn't sure when I'd started.

Roy saw back on his knees, looking incredibly satisfied despite the painful-looking erection still between his thighs.

Without thinking, a grabbed his shoulders and flipped him sideways. His noise of surprise quickly turned to a moan as grinned at him and reached a hand down to wrap around his cock.

I wasn't really sure what I was doing, but it didn't seem to matter, as after a few pulls at his cock his was gasping and coming over my hand. Sometimes I think that was the last possible turning point, that if I'd closed my eyes, not watched him come, I could have stopped myself later. As it was, there was no way I was going to rid myself of the image of Roy gasping in ecstasy, lips swollen and strands of his hair stuck to his forehead with sweat.

My memory goes a bit fuzzy after that. I'm pretty sure Roy got up at some point, got a towel or handkerchief or something, and cleaned us up a bit. He may have even tried to talk to me.

"Maes..."

But my brain was a mush of shock and post-coital bliss, so I don't think it worked. I just tugged him closer. He sighed, ran a hand down my chest somewhat wistfully, then, as my eyes fluttered closed, said quietly,

"Good night, Maes."

*

When I woke up, it was still dark. I could feel the warmth of a body, but it was disappointingly not within easy arm's reach. Opening my eyes a fraction, I could see Roy's back. He must have rolled away in his sleep. Of course, I thought. He's probably not as used to sleeping with someone else in the bed as Gracia is.

Then my eyes snapped fully open, and all at once I was completely and painfully aware of what I'd just done. The guilt clutching my heart made it hard to breathe.

I slipped out of Roy's bed as quietly as possibly. I frantically attempted to gather and pull on my clothes. It took longer than I would have liked, as the moon had set and so the room was even darker than when we'd entered. Also, I kept feeling Roy's eyes on me, but every time I turned to look back at the bed he hadn't moved.

Finally I had laced up my boots, rescued my glasses from their place on the floor, and escaped out the door. I don't think I'd had the feeling of such a near escape since one of my first undercover missions.

*

When I got home, the first haze of dawn was just beginning to light the streets.

There was a light on in our house, and as I closed the front door, Gracia walked out to greet me. She looked pale, and for a moment concern overwhelmed my nervousness.

"Honey! What are you doing up? Are you alright? Are you sick?"

She smiled faintly. "Apparently I'm not completely over my morning sickness yet. I'll be alright. But where have you been?"

I went still, gave a laugh which sounded false even to me, and put a hand behind my head. "I went back to Roy's. We hadn't drunk much, but we must have lost track of time and fallen asleep." The evasion came with the ease of practice, but saying the words to Gracia made them taste bitter on my tongue.

Gracia regarded me silently for a moment. I was suddenly very aware of the disheveled state of my clothes. I could feel the burning imprints of Roy's lips on mine, on my jaw, on my neck. I realized I had no idea if any of what he'd done had left marks. I smelled a whiff of musk, and was certain Gracia would be able to identify it for what it was.

But finally she just nodded and said neutrally, "You guys can get pretty absorbed in your talk. Anyway, I think I'm going to try to get some more sleep. Join me?"

I tried not to audibly voice my relief as I said, "You go ahead - I'm going to get a shower first."

As she returned to the bedroom, I all but ran into the bathroom, turned on the water, and then met my own panicked gaze in the mirror. I inspected the reflection, trying to decide if there was anything that could have given me away. My hair was a bit mussed, my stubble slightly scruffy, and my face and neck somewhat flushed, but nothing screamed of my illicit tryst.

I sighed, and started to pull off my clothes, when my heart stopped for a moment.

My shirt was on backwards.

My face in the mirror suddenly looked like I'd been hit by a brick.

I tried to shake it off, stripped, and climbed into the shower. The warm spray calmed my nerves a bit. Gracia probably hadn't even noticed. She would have mentioned it.

By the time I walked into the bedroom, Gracia was asleep, her sandy hair splayed across the pillow. She looked better already - there was a faint flush of color to her cheeks. She looked beautiful, and for the first time since my flight from Roy's, I was almost calm. I knew where I was supposed to be.

I climbed under the blankets next to her and wrapped an arm around her. She hummed in her sleep and leaned closer.

Yes. This was where I belonged.

*

I spent the next few weeks avoiding Roy. This was obviously not the best long-term solution, and in retrospect, my effort was clearly doomed to failure, but it worked surprisingly well initially. Probably because Roy wasn't exactly coming looking for me, either.

I had an idea of why, of course. I'm not in the Intelligence department because some higher-up thought it would be amusingly ironic, no matter how much Roy says so. I'd initiated things, but Roy's response suggested significantly more thought had been put into the prospect on his part than mine, and that my actions had at best been a trigger.

He had to know as well as I did how bad an idea it had been, though. He was probably as embarrassed about it as I was.

So I avoided him, and immersed myself in the requisite mounds of paperwork that had been generated by my recent mission. I had all of the files seized from the office of the man I'd captured in boxes around my office. I had to look through them and see if there was anything of particular note.

Mostly it was boring work, staring at lines of text and blurry, covertly-taken photos, so when I came across the thirty-third file, I had to read it a few times before the strangeness registered. Then I looked up a few things.

Then I reached for the phone to report what I'd found to Roy. The reaction was so automatic I didn't think of why I shouldn't until the shrill-voiced switchboard operator informed me I was being connected.

"Yes, Major Hughes?" Roy's voice was carefully neutral. I panicked for a moment. Then in the next moment I chided myself - just because we'd done something stupid didn't mean I was no longer going to fulfill my promise to Roy. That was much more important than one night of idiocy.

Falling back on habit, I launched into conversation with only a hair less enthusiasm than usual.

"Hey! My Gracia has been so wonderful lately. It's true what they say - pregnancy makes a woman glow! I said I'd bring home something for dinner tonight, to treat her, what do you think I should get?"

It took the beat of silence on Roy's end to make me realize that that had probably not been the best way to approach him after weeks of no communication. To his credit, he recovered from it fairly quickly.

"I'm sure I have no idea, Hughes. She's your wife. And I hear pregnant women sometimes have strange preferences in food."

"Aw, come on. You've got to know the best food to woo a lady with."

Roy's long-suffering sigh comforted me like nothing else could have, I think. It was familiar, and it meant I hadn't done irreparable damage to our friendship. I should have known, really, that our years together and pledges to each other would be sturdier than that.

"You know, this whole process isn't really necessary. Nothing's more secure than the intra-office lines." Roy's voice sounded tired and vaguely irritated, which made me relax the rest of the way, because this was familiar, too.

"But I can't change my routine! What if I got too used to it, and said something important on an unsecured line?"

"I'm sure any listeners would promptly die of shock before they could do anything." There was a wry twist to Roy's voice. "Now, as much as I'm sure you enjoy my distress, I assume you had something substantive to report?"

"Nn." I glanced down at the file in front of me. "You know the paparazzi I brought in a few weeks ago? I was looking over his files, and I came across something intriguing."

"Oh?" said Roy, but he couldn't quite disguise his interest. I grinned at the phone.

"It caught my eye because the client's name looked familiar. And then I saw that there was a lot more information included than usual - whereabouts of the family on any particular day, working habits, vacation times..."

I could hear the sound of Roy sitting forward in his chair. "Vacation times? Don't tell me... General Hakuro?"

"Yup. He leaves for his trip with his family in a few weeks. And get this: the client was a guy we've got flagged as a possible member of the Blue Brigade. I wouldn't be at all surprised if they made a move."

"They'll probably wait until a good excuse for it comes up, though..." Roy trailed off thoughtfully, and I could sense him turning things over in his head, gears grinding, things falling into place. "This could turn out very much to our advantage." It was always immensely satisfying to hand Roy a bit of information; half the time it triggered a plan seemingly out of nowhere.

I nodded. "I'll see what else I can find out. The rest of the files can wait, I'm sure."

"Can you come by tomorrow after hours to talk about it? I should have a better idea of what I need by then."

"Of course," I said, without any thought to why that might be a bad idea. Really, after obsessing over it for weeks on end, it's surprising how quickly the memory of what happened last time I was alone with Roy slipped my mind.

I went back to research with a renewed vigor after that, so it wasn't until much later that night that it really hit me. It was over dinner with Gracia.

"I've got some things to discuss with Roy, so I may be home late tomorrow. You'll be okay doing dinner without me?"

Gracia smiled at me in the way that said I was being overconcerned. "I'm sure I'll be fine. Are you two going out again?" I froze dead for a second.

"No, not this time. Strictly work," I managed to choke out, then hid my expression in a mouthful of noodles. It would be strictly work, I promised myself. I really should have known better.

*

I was on guard when I stepped into Roy's office. A quick glance around showed that most of the others were finishing up for the day or already gone. Those still left would occasionally shoot confused glances at Roy's door. That made me smile for a second. Working overtime was not a habit of his.

A few of them looked less confused when they saw me. I flicked a brief wave at the office in general before entering Roy's room. His face was carefully blank as he glanced up at me.

"I brought files!" I said enthusiastically, and he smiled a little bit.

"Good. I always worry that someday you're going to show up with a photo album instead of a case file."

With that, we were back to normal. We talked over the files, asking questions and making notes. It was absorbing, seeing Roy pull threads seemingly out of thin air and weave them into a respectably clever scheme.

By the time we reached a breaking point, I had a list of things to look into further, Roy had the raw outlines of a plan, and the office was completely dark except for Roy's desk lamp. I hadn't even noticed when everyone else had left. I wondered how late it was.

I blinked a few times at the paperwork in front of me, and then leaned back in my chair to stretch. Roy glanced up from his own notes, and his eyes latched instantly onto the shift of my uniform.

The atmosphere was suddenly much more charged. Without looking away from me, Roy put his stack of papers away in a desk drawer. He stood up calmly. I followed him with my eyes as he walked around the desk and closed the office door.

"Maes," he said, still facing the door.

Roy usually called me Hughes, now, I realized. When had he started doing that? He'd called me Maes that night, though.

He turned around and looked at me, half-twisted in my chair to see him. He took a step towards me.

"Maes, I want..." he trailed off. I wasn't forming any coherent thoughts, still wondering at the sound of my name on his lips. Then suddenly and smoothly he crossed the rest of the space and was kissing me again.

And then I was standing, kissing back, pressing his back against the edge of the desk. His hands pulled awkwardly at my uniform jacket, not used to undoing the fastenings at that angle, but still working admirably quickly.

Roy keeps a bottle of some kind of lotion at his desk, apparently. Spark cloth being abrasive, it's useful have to keep the insides of his gloves from scraping his skin raw.

I suspect Roy would have found this less embarrassing had he not had to explain it while naked and sprawled across his desk. But it was his idea.

*

Things continued like that, for the next few months. Plans grew and came to fruition. I met Ed, of course, when Roy had me on General Hakuro's train. A hunch of Roy's, that kid. Weeks of planning, and one last-minute impulse on Roy's part made the endgame of that particular scheme much more interesting than it needed to be. That's a talent of Ed's, it seems. Of course, I hadn't been expecting a man with an insane automail arm, so it was probably good that he was there.

Roy thought so, when he saw my injury. It had been quite a while since I'd been on a serious mission, and even longer since I actually got hurt. His flash of concern and remorse was obvious in his eyes, and his quip about giving my job to the kid didn't really have his heart in it.

I kissed him, then, during the last few minutes of our debriefing. He looked like he needed it. That seemed like enough reason at the time.

That's probably when I accepted it - at least, as much as I ever did. I never stopped feeling guilty when I came home to Gracia. She's the love of my life. But Roy needed me to be there for him. He always had, one way or another, I suppose, and I've never been able to deny him. And if I'm completely honest with myself, I needed him too.

I was always certain Gracia suspected. I'm not sure if I actually spent more time with Roy during those months than before, but when I came home for the second time in a week with hair wet from a shower and memories of Roy's desperate gasps still fresh in my mind, it certainly felt like it.

Mostly he initiated things. Occasionally I did. We never really talked about what we were doing. There wasn't much we could say.

When Elysia was born, I pulled myself together for a while. The possibility of losing Gracia hit me hard, and I had to be there for her. And Elysia is my beautiful girl, of course. But one day, not nearly long enough later, I was gathering myself to leave Roy's office, business over, and Roy just looked at me. His face was totally blank. And I walked around his desk and pulled him into my arms. I'm not sure what did it - maybe the trace of emptiness I saw creeping back into his eyes.

Of course I couldn't just stop again after that.

The amount of mixed feelings I had upon Roy's transfer to East City was really quite ridiculous. It was a mixed blessing totally even objectively, of course. We'd expected and planned for it, since Roy in Central was an obvious threat to the status quo. But it was still a setback.

Of course, Roy out of Central was Roy out of range of our physical relationship. Part of me insisted that could only be a good thing. Part of me, the part I tried to ignore but which kept me going back to him, insisted that I'd miss him horribly. The rational part of me insisted that Roy could handle himself - all that was important was our plans, and those could be made just as efficiently over the phone.

The rest of me objected vehemently to that. Sometimes, Roy clearly couldn't handle himself.

It worked out alright in the end. Ed actually helped, I think. For all his tendencies to trigger guilt and unpleasant memories in Roy, he's a remarkably well-adjusted kid for all the things he's seen. And dealing with him is certainly interesting enough to keep your mind off of brooding.

Three years is a long time. By the end of it I went months without thinking about my nights with Roy, back when he was in Central.

And then Scar showed up. I think that was approximately when things started going completely to hell.

*

I didn't tell Roy that I'd be coming to East City. I'd been forbidden to tell him of the evacuation of Central, and I didn't want to tell him I was coming without giving the real reason for it. He looked almost betrayed when he saw me in the ranks, though.

There was no question that we were going out for drinks that night. It would have happened even had I been there for a totally innocuous reason - we hadn't seen each other in far too long, and hadn't even talked on the phone for over a month. Add to that the issues of Scar, and Lior, and how shaken Roy clearly was after fighting Ed and discussing Marcoh... and I just showed up unannounced at Roy's office door.

"So, where around here has a decent whiskey?"

The place was dark, smoky and crowded, but not very loud. It was mostly filled with men, alone, nursing various glasses. We talked in low voices.

"Did the brass really think they could secretly get the Fuhrer and all the state alchemists out of Central?"

"Well, it worked, didn't it? You didn't hear about it."

Roy pointedly didn't mention that that was mostly because I'd left him out of the loop. "It's only a matter of time before it gets out in Central that they're gone. There's no reason Scar can't just follow them here."

I shrugged. "We might be able to intercept him when he shows up." I couldn't make myself sound very hopeful. This guy had some power we didn't understand, and we had no idea what was motivating him.

"I notice you say 'when' and not 'if.'" Roy sounded somewhat bitter. A ridiculous surge of protectiveness welled up in my chest.

"I know. You should be careful until this is resolved. No dates. Don't ever go out without an escort. You're the most high-profile State Alchemist here."

Roy shot me a look that told me exactly what he thought of that suggestion. Then his expression shifted to a smirk that didn't look at all amused. He knocked back the rest of his drink.

"Then, I don't suppose you'd care to 'escort' me back to my apartment?" The purr of his voice left no room to wonder what he was suggesting, even if the way it triggered a rush of warmth to my groin hadn't been an immediate clue.

He fucked me that night, and afterwards collapsed in a sobbing heap. I didn't know what else to do except clutch him close as he fell asleep.

All my nights in East City were spent in Roy's bed.

*

I swore afterwards that I'd shield Roy as much as I could from everything that could do that to him. He needed to hold himself together to make it to the top. And Ed turned up lots of those things in very short order.

My working hours got steadily longer after I returned to Central. I even committed the travesty that I'd managed to avoid in the months I'd been sleeping with Roy before his transfer - I didn't make it home to Gracia one night. At all. I fell asleep at my desk, woke up and worked again well into the morning before it hit me that I hadn't left my desk in over twenty-four hours. I called Gracia to let her know what had happened, but I knew that we were going to have to talk when I made it home that night.

"Years, it's been." She started, apropos of nothing, as she handed me a dish to dry. "You've always been... absorbed in your work. Especially with Mustang. But you've never let it eat at you like this."

I shook my head. "It's never been something this important. I'm sorry, dear, but I really need to do this."

"It's something important? For Mustang?" she said, looking down at the sink.

"Not just for Roy," I started. Then I noticed that she was shaking. She turned away, but not before I saw tears forming at the corners of her eyes.

"Gracia." I walked up behind her and wrapped my arms around her quaking form. I pressed a kiss into her hair. She relaxed in my arms slightly.

"I love you, Maes. I just wish sometimes that you wouldn't keep me completely in the dark."

I hugged her tightly. "I love you too. I won't," I said, and I meant it completely. Even though I wasn't at all sure whether she meant my work or my relationship with Roy.

*

That was a week ago. Not knowing exactly what Gracia was talking about was not a good feeling. I needed to figure out exactly what I was doing with Roy, particularly if he's going to be transferred back to Central soon. I figured I couldn't push it to the back of my mind any more.

Apparently thinking about it doesn't help, either, though, because I still have no idea what to do. I do love Gracia with all my heart. But I can't leave Roy alone. But even if Gracia doesn't know exactly what we've done right now, if we continue like we've been, it's only a matter of time. And I don't think any of us could handle the confrontation that would bring.

So I guess I'm deciding to put it off for tonight. Tomorrow I'll go back to the mystery of the fifth laboratory. I'm close; I know I am. Malicious plots potentially reaching the highest parts of the military are going to have to come before my personal problems, I'm afraid.

*

The day of the funeral was warm and sunny. It clashed with the mood utterly, and many of the attendees kept their faces permanently downward, hats shading their eyes and making them unreadable. Some looked up at the clouds passing by. Many spoke to the young widow.

One man with the stars and stripes of a Colonel notably did neither. The widow looked at him once, but he didn't meet her eyes.

She didn't approach him. After the ceremony was over, she led away her daughter by the hand, and left him at the gravesite.

He didn't look up for a long time.