Author's Note: Do not own. Spoilers for the end of Brotherhood/manga, but you probably have to squint. Named after the song of the same title from The Last 5 Years.

Emeritus: retired or honorably discharged from active professional duty, but retaining the title of one's office or position.

She smiled at him, wistful and knowing, as she placed a hand gently on his arm. "Are you ready?"

For a moment, he hesitates. "It's been a long time since I've stepped out of these doors without a uniform on," he replied.

"I know," she said softly, "I understand. But we can't stand in the foyer forever, there are people who have work to do."

Mustang cracked a smile at her, shaking his head. "I will never understand how you do it." He ran his fingers through his hair as he glanced at the bustling officers behind him. In his civilian clothes and with his back to them, they didn't seem to recognize him. "How are you so calm?"

"Practice." Hawkeye crossed her arms, and he marveled at how gracefully she had aged. She was easily in her late sixties by now, but she looked much the same as she had half a lifetime ago. Her hair had grayed years ago, but the silver suited her well and she looked wise far beyond her years. If she caught him staring, she said nothing and just proceeded to the front door of Central Headquarters.

"Last time walking out these doors," he remarked, almost sadly.

"I doubt that," she rebutted. "The new Führer may be very skilled, but that doesn't mean he'll never want the input of the Führer emeritus. Now come."

Outside, he sighed. "This is the first time I've been allowed to go somewhere without a full escort in years."

She chuckled, "I'm still your escort, like it or not. We may be retired, but that doesn't mean I'm unarmed."

"I'd expect nothing less of you." Mustang eyed her once, cocking a brow.

They walked quietly down the stairs of headquarters, Hawkeye instinctively two steps behind. Her gaze trailed over his broad shoulders, and she had to hand it to him—for the years of hard work that they had put into this country, he didn't look any worse for wear. In fact, it was as if age had built him up. From where she was standing, he looked stronger and more regal than he ever had, every bit the part of the Führer emeritus of Amestris. With his back to her, she realized she could admit to herself that she rather liked his hair silver.

At the bottom of the steps, they paused. "This is it, then."

"Stop being so dramatic, Roy. They'll probably want you back tomorrow for something or other," she quipped, shaking her head.

He caught her arm as she turned away from the building, stopping her in her tracks. "What are you going to do now, Riza?"

It was a loaded question, but she chose not to regard it as such. "Probably straighten up my apartment, seeing as it's been in shambles since the election. With all of the preparations, I didn't spend much time cleaning up."

She wasn't sure what to make of his expression; he looked as though he had a question, and his fingers tightened on her wrist just slightly. "Would you like to get a cup of coffee?"

Hawkeye had a feeling that that was not the question he truly had on his mind, but she smiled just the same. "That would be nice."

"You know, I never thought I'd see the day."

"See what day?" She was stirring her tea, gazing into the warm amber liquid with a tired smile.

"We're retired, Riza," he replied. "That's the day I never thought I'd see." Mustang wished he could will her to just look at him, but she seemed focused on her cup. Her warm amber eyes were the same color as the tea, and he sighed. "I feel old."

"As well you should."

"You wound me, Riza," he feigned distress, sighing.

She looked up, meeting his gaze with a smirk. "You are old."

"If I'm old," he replied, "then you are too."

"I am old. That is why we retired, you know. Most people would've retired years ago." She took a sip of the tea, her eyes scanning the room instinctively for anything suspicious.

"Actually, we retired because we are a couple of very lucky old codgers. But saying that we retired because we are old is also a satisfactory answer."

She reached across the table and patted the hand he had resting on it, before pulling it back, folding her hands in her lap. "Whatever you say."

He was quiet for a few moments, looking into his coffee cup. Hawkeye was back to scanning the room, and he laughed quietly at her. He wondered if her instincts to survey the room for threats would ever fade. It felt strange to sitting in civilian clothes in a coffee shop without an unnecessarily large group of guards with Hawkeye. She looked relaxed in a way he wasn't used to, and he tried to stare. Surreptitiously, since she had a tendency to pointedly tell him he shouldn't ogle in public.

"I was thinking that I might walk through the park before I go home," Hawkeye said quietly, looking up finally. "I feel like I've spent a lot of time inside the last few weeks and some fresh air would be nice."

"Would you mind if I came along?"

She smiled, the wrinkles along the edge of her eyes crinkling as she did so. He found it endearing though he knew she probably would hate to hear that. "I'm surprised you have to ask."

It was a beautiful day outside. The sun was shining, and the park was packed with children and dogs and families. It was a shining example of life in Central City, and when he had first become Führer this park was one of the first he walked through to talk to the people he might otherwise never hear from. Hawkeye surveyed the people, smiling. Most of the children just saw them as grandparents, taking a quiet walk through the trees. Some of the adults probably thought the same. Of course, there were the select few who recognized the pair out of uniform, and nodded in respect as they passed.

"I forgot how nice this park is," Mustang said quietly.

She nodded. "We haven't come through here in a long while. I thought it might be nice to reacquaint ourselves with the first park you simply wandered through."

He sighed quietly, remembering the planning phase of the event, "I'm surprised they let me."

"You weren't present for the argument I had with the military police over your security detail. I spent hours trying to convince them that you didn't need fifty people walking with you through a park." Hawkeye gazed around at the different entrances. "Honestly, I don't think I've met a group of more hyperaware people."

"I've met someone."

"And who might that be?"

Mustang grinned, looking incredibly childish, and patted her on the head. "You, actually."

She reached up and grabbed his wrist, guiding it away. "I'm not a puppy, you don't need to pat my head."

"Mhmm," he said quietly, stuffing his hands into his pockets, his fingertips brushing against the various items he carried with him. They walked in silence until they'd reached the other side of the park. Without comment, he strolled out of the park. She followed.

"Are you planning to stay in Central?"

He was surprised by her question, and turned, gazing down at her. It wasn't until that moment that he realized he was nearly a head taller than her, and he quickly turned. "Probably. Nowhere else to go. Old men shouldn't travel, especially not alone."

"You sound ridiculous."

"Will you?"

Hawkeye peered up, brows furrowed. "Will I what?"

"Stay in Central. I grew up here," he said quietly. "You didn't."

She smiled knowingly, and again patted his arm, though the gesture was teasing. "You aren't getting rid of me that easily, Roy."

After the park, Hawkeye had suggested they walk downtown. He, of course, would not refuse taking the time to walk with her, not after so many years where they avoided each other when off duty like the plague because of the political implications. No; if Riza Hawkeye wanted to walk with him, he was happy to oblige.

She was looking inside the shops and up at the buildings with a quiet wide-eyed wonder that he hadn't seen in years. They had lived in Central for years now, but their days had been so busy with work that they hadn't had the opportunity to take a good look around. She probably knew where every building in this city was, but she hadn't looked at them in ages.

He was starting to feel very much like a teenaged boy who wanted to see if he could get away with holding a pretty girl's hand, and the thought made his ears tingle. There really ought to be no situation in which he felt uncomfortable around her, and since she seemed to be completely at ease, he very carefully caught her hand as they walked.

Her eyes trailed down her arm to where his fingers were wrapped around hers, and she smiled. He smiled back, and his inner teenager cheered triumphantly.

"We worked very hard to make it to today."

He was surprised by how somber she sounded, and he gently wrapped his fingers tighter around hers. "We did."

"You made it to Führer," she said quietly.

"I did. And I do believe that you made it to General, unless my memory fails me."

"It does not."

Mustang sighed, "I thought the Führer was supposed to have a family, with children and all that."

She turned and glanced up at him, "Führer Grumman didn't."

"That doesn't count. He was a widower, he had a child who had passed away, and he did have a very nice looking granddaughter."

Hawkeye dug her nails into his palm, and he winced.

"I'm serious," he repeated. "Even Edward eventually managed to get married. I don't know how Winry can stand him for so long."

"Have you heard from them recently? Winry usually writes occasionally, but I haven't heard from her in a while.

He laughs, almost awkwardly. "I didn't pay much mind to Edward's most recent letter; it was mostly nonsense. Al and Mei are doing well, and so are the children. Their oldest is thinking of going University around here."

Mustang tries to keep a straight face. Just thinking about that letter made him cringe. Aside from the usual generic chatter about how they were all doing, Edward really had only one other thing to say: I hear you and General Hawkeye are retiring next month with the inauguration of the new Führer. I'll be expecting my invitation in the mail shortly after.

"Are you all right?"

It was so easy to forget how perceptive she could be, and he nodded. "I'm fine. Just thinking about those boys." He slid his hand into his pockets, letting his fingertips run against the smooth velvet one more time, just to be sure it was still there.

They had spent the last fifty years of their life in a hurry, and he wasn't quite sure what to do with himself when he had free time to just enjoy the day. For all his attempts at being relaxed, as the minutes dragged on, he felt his stomach tightening in knots. He'd stalled for as long as he could, but it was beginning to get late. They'd gotten coffee and walked through most of Central, chatting idly away about whatever came to mind. He'd surreptitiously asked her where she was going, a query she fired back at him later in the day.

But by now he was at his absolute wits end. He was the Führer emeritus. He'd ruled this country for ten long years, been an officer in the state military for nearly fifty, and had known Hawkeye for almost sixty. The only thing that had stopped him before now was protocol.

"You know, Riza, I'm not that old."

She sighed."You're sixty-eight. That really isn't old, but you're the one who started with the implications."

"Sixty-eight means I could have a good twenty years left."

"I should hope so."

"And you would have a good twenty years left too," he added. "That's about right, playing on average life expectancies and all of those sorts of statistics."

"I didn't think you really read that annual report."

"Contrary to what you'd like to believe, I was capable of doing my job."

"I fail to see where this conversation is going, Roy. Do you have a point?"

They were standing in front of her apartment building and he'd be damned if she wasn't looking at him with an expression he just couldn't wrap his head around. It was expectant, almost knowing.

Finally, he couldn't help himself. He yanked the box out of his pocket and handed it to her. Closed.

"Ten more minutes."

Her thin fingers took the box delicately from him, but she didn't open it. Her gaze was quizzical.

"Just ten more minutes," he repeated, and wondered how ridiculous he looked.

"I—"

He took the box back, and fumbled, trying to get it open. It was a box, for pity's sake, it should absolutely not be so complicated. Finally, open, he handed it to her again. "Share your life with me for ten more minutes. Then ten minutes again. That's all it is, really. Ten minutes, once and again."

When he finally had the nerve to look up at her, he realized she was turning the box slowly. Her hands were shaking, and he grabbed them with both of his. "Please. I should have said please, right?"

For the first time in what felt like years, Hawkeye threw her head back and laughed. "Is this what's had you so tense all day, Roy?"

He nodded sheepishly, uncertain of what to do with her reaction.

She smiled, gently placing her right hand on his cheek. "When have I ever said no to you?"