Howdy, y'all!

So. This fic was written as a gift for Rosawyn in the RLt. Technically, I didn't participate in the Spring Gift Fic Exchange, because I wasn't sure if I'd have enough time or ideas or inspiration to write on time, much less write something that the giftee would like, but I decided to challenge myself to participate on the sideline and see if I could actually accomplish it. I'm not sure how good it is, or if anyone will actually like it, or anything like that, but I did at least finish, so I'm happy with that bit. Of course, the idea for the fic changed several times, my inner editor refused to let me be productive until yesterday, and my attempt to keep it at seven hundred words ish failed miserably (Guess I just can't write short stuff), so I'm really not sure how much of a "success" this is, but... Yeah. Anyway, that's the story behind the story this time around (and whaddya know, this time the fic doesn't have angst in it! Miracle of miracles.) A quick thankful shout out to Kaz as well, who helped me beta read this thing at the ungodly hour in which I finally finished the draft. And now, without further adieu, hope y'all enjoy the fic, and review if you get a chance! Catch you later! - Bookworm

She's sitting with the Colonel alone in the hospital room when she hears the footsteps out in the hallway. Her ears are trained to pick up the most innocent and slight of sounds and analyze them - she thinks of it as a side effect from being a sniper in Ishval, when she had to watch everyone's backs, including her own – and it's no surprise when that instinct kicks in even now.

From inside the room, she instantly picks out the familiar discord of Edward's walking (one metal foot, one flesh, though his boots make it hard to hear), noting that there's an impaired shuffle to it today that she imagines stems from Alphonse. She can't identify him by his steps yet, since he hasn't been out of the armor for long and she hasn't heard him enough to commit the sound to memory, but she can think of no one else who Ed would allow to lean on him and impair him so willingly. Two pairs of less familiar steps – one confident and quick, the other heavy and gentle – separate themselves from the sounds, and Riza guesses them to belong to the Curtises. The rest of the cacophony, she doesn't bother detangling – it's familiar to her instantly anyway as the rest of Mustang's team, (those who are still able to walk and not already hospitalized), and not only are they not a threat, but a part of her has just been waiting for them to show up like she'd known they would.

Over on his own bed, the Colonel is sleeping, or at least she thinks he is. It's hard to tell, since these days, his eyes are open about as often as they're closed when he's awake, and he can't see either way. His breathing is as even as it ever is. She recognizes the sound easily from all the times that he used to fall asleep at the Hawkeye manor, when he was training under Berthold, and from the times when she's come into his office to find him slumped back in his chair or on a pile of paperwork that is almost always incomplete.

A part of her wants to let him sleep – after seeing her throat get cut, and then losing his eyesight, and thus being rendered unable to tell what condition the rest of his team was in or witness the death of Father, she knows the strain must be immense, and for any normal person, she has no doubt that it would be overwhelming. But she, of all people knows that he, who has survived Ishval and strives to be Führer, who has seen so much tragedy and remains idealistic, and who fights monsters to remind himself that he is human, is far from an average man, and he would hate for any of his allies – officially subordinates, but allies and friends, nonetheless – to catch him asleep.

So she wakes him up, and just in time, too. He's barely gotten himself awkwardly situated in an upright position when the door is knocked upon and opened without waiting for an answer by Breda, who is immediately overcome by the flood of people entering the small room. Sure enough, all the people she heard in the hallway – her guess about Alphonse was an accurate one, it seems - pour in, assembling themselves in a loose sort of crowd around the hospital beds. Their words crowd over each other into incoherence, but some comments - such as Ed telling the Colonel that he looks like he's seen better days - still manage to be audible over the rest.

They all bear the signs of the battle still – some with minor cuts, others with bandages wrapped around their arms or heads, others with wounds whose severity is only truly visible in their eyes because the damages are far worse beneath the skin. Their chatter is exhausted and eager, weighted with tragedy but invigorated by the promise of a new future and the relief coming from the fact that nearly everyone survived, and for a moment, she marvels at how people who have been through such madness as this can already be planning for the next step.

The Colonel groans out something about them needing to quiet down. They oblige, temporarily, and then they're back at it, and Riza looks over to see the expression on his face. She can tell by the fact that he's almost smiling that he really didn't expect anything else for a response, considering who he's talking to.

When they finally calm down long enough to be coherent, there are two topics that come up repeatedly among the group. One is the events of three days ago, and one is the events of the days to come. Breda and Falman bring the news that the radio hasn't announced, what little there is to report, and Ed lets them know that reconstruction of the city has begun, largely because of Major Armstrong's assistance. Thankfully enough, though, the Major is too busy to come at the moment and accidentally worsen any injuries, or find an excuse to showcase his physique.

Alphonse tells the Colonel that Ling, Lan Fan, and May have already left for Xing, taking with them the body of Fu, so it can be buried in home soil, and he tells him of the future Emperor's plans to ensure the protection of not only May's clan, but all the clans of Xing.

The Curtises let him know that there's been no news of Hohenheim, that no one has seen him, or Scar, since shortly after the battle's end, and that they themselves will be departing for Dublith this evening on an overnight train, and trying to help with the reconstruction from their home.

When they finish speaking of their own plans for what is to come after the battle and the healing of the injuries earned on the Promised Day, the Colonel tells them of his own ambitions. He is still blind, but he tells them that he has no intentions of falling back and resigning from the military. He has come too far to let this stop him from making good on the visions of his future that cost him his ability to see the present. He will do what he can to help rebuild Amestris, Ishval, and any other part of this country that has suffered because of the corruption.

Riza sees the team exchange a look for a moment after the Colonel finishes speaking, and she wishes that he could see it. It's a look of bemused entertainment mixed with a smile on every single person's face that says they hadn't expected anything else. She knows that if the Colonel could see this, he himself would be smiling at the fact that they'd seen this coming.

But when Breda presents the pile of books on Ishval and sits them almost on the Colonel's foot, she realizes through her own grin that maybe he wouldn't be smiling that much, after all. As the Second Lieutenant explains their plan to read and quiz him on the texts so he can still learn with his blindness, and his superior mutters about how they could have at least given him a chance to recover before giving him more work, and Edward responds with some offhand comment about how he wasn't doing the work he had, anyway, she's shaking her head slightly, but the smile curving her lips doesn't fall. Staring at the scene and trying not to laugh, she suddenly realizes that she has no idea why she was surprised at their resilience earlier.

This is Amestris. He is Roy Mustang, and they are Edward and Alphonse Elric, and the couple from Dublith is Izumi and Sig Curtis, and out there, there is the Xingese boy who is Ling Yao, and Major Armstrong. They are all still themselves, and they are alive. And for as long as that is true, of course they will rebuild, start again, keep going. It's what they always seem to do, what they always seem to have done.

The flowers will bloom in the upcoming days. Spring will come to this country.

They will live.