A/N: Written for FMA_Slashfest on Livejournal. Prompt was Olivier/Riza - Manga/Brotherhood - Anything Mustang can do, I can do better.

"I was supposed to have a private room, sir," First Lieutenant Riza Hawkeye huffed with a grainy voice. "Roy pai-"

"Please, do you think his money matters when mine comes into the picture?" Olivier Armstrong snorted. And immediately regretted it as pain rippled through her ribs and then... everywhere. Damn that homunculus. "And since when are you on a first name basis with that idiot?"

The lieutenant just gave a soft smile.

Olivier scowled as the nurse... encouraged her to just please lay down and rest.

What Olivier wanted to do was actually check and see what injuries Hawkeye had sustained. The doctors, of course, had not released any information, and Mustang had been both busy and tight-lipped. The General had resorted to admitting herself to the hospital, though she let Miles think it was his idea. And all she'd been able to find out was that Hawkeye had almost died, and not from the transmutation of Amestris.

While the nurse practically pulled Olivier out of her uniform, she realized what it felt like to have the Hawk's Eyes on her in close quarters. Olivier wasn't sure if she should feel like a rabbit or not.

But there was a spark of something in the lieutenant's eye that gave her hope.

Olivier had been attracted to the young sniper from the first time she met her, at the promotion ceremony after the whole Ishval mess. But Hawkeye had been adamant in her desire to be stationed under Mustang, and Olivier had been told she wasn't welcome in Central.

The material used for the hospital gown was certainly inferior. Olivier's lip curled down at the feel of it against her skin.

A woman general wasn't the image the military wanted to portray, and yet they grudgingly admitted Olivier was too good not to get promoted. So they stuck her up in Briggs.

The nurse finally left, turning off the overhead light, and followed by the creak of the door hinge.

The lieutenant reached over and switched on the lamp sitting on the side table between the two beds. Olivier looked over at Hawkeye and was startled to see the woman glaring at her.

What shocked her more was the pallor of the woman's face.

"You look like a ghost, Hawkeye," the General blurted out.

The woman gave a wan smile and when she answered, Olivier realized the quiet coarseness affecting her voice wasn't from exhaustion. "I've heard almost being bled out will do that."

Being bled out? Olivier was very, very grateful she'd listened to the nurse and was, at the very least, sitting down. She still clenched her fist around the edge of the mattress to ground herself.

"What happened?"

Hawkeye met her gaze with the haunted look of a woman who'd seen her worst fears come true. Olivier recognized it from when she'd had to visit widows. Especially the ones with children.

"They used me against him. Made him watch as they slit my throat." The sniper's fingers fluttered up to the bandage on her neck. "If the Xingese girl hadn't been there, I would be a ghost, General."

"Olivier."

"Pardon, General?"

"Please, while we're here-" No, always. "-call me Olivier."

Riza watched her with shadowed eyes. After a moment, she gave a curt nod, then reached over to switch the lamp back off.

"Good night, Olivier."

"Good night... Riza."

Hawkeye's words echoed through her mind. Made him watch as they slit my throat. Oddly, her chest ached, but this time her ribs had nothing to do with it.

"Riiiiiiiiza!"

Bright, blinding light washed over her from above. Instinctively, Olivier reached for her sword... a gun... anything to fend off the overly cheerful, barely post-dawn intruder.

Her sprained arm smacked something, hard - who cared what, it was simply not pleasant - and she couldn't hold in her cry when she tried to cradle that arm to her chest, and pain stabbed through her torso.

"Ah!" Battered ribs. Right.

"Rebecca, you could have been a little quieter," Riza admonished. Olivier was certain there was a laugh hiding in her voice, though.

"Sorry, Ri." Rebecca turned an upraised eyebrow toward Olivier. "I thought you were supposed to have a private room?"

Riza sighed. "Major General Armstrong," she introduced them, "my friend, Second Lieutenant Rebecca Catalina."

For just a moment, Rebecca's mouth dropped open into a perfect 'o' before she straightened and snapped a salute. "General Armstrong, sir, my apologies."

"Hmph, at ease, Lieutenant," Olivier huffed, her eyes flickering back to Riza. "It's been hard enough convincing Riza to lighten up in here. She never will if you're following protocol."

Rebecca released her salute, and her eyebrows lifted again at the use of Riza's first name. There was a moment of silence as Rebecca looked from the General to Riza, and a thoughtful look crossed the woman's face. Olivier would have sworn she saw a smile hiding at the corner of Catalina's mouth, but it flickered away so quickly she wasn't sure.

"So, Riza, been up since the crack of dawn?" Rebecca sat on the edge of her friend's bed. Olivier watched cautiously from the other side of the room.

Riza scowled. "Of course. You know I can't sleep in."

Olivier felt slightly guilty. Riza had been awake for a while, likely bored out of her mind. What a missed opportunity...

The two girls - because, really, they were girls compared to Olivier when she thought of their ages - grew quiet on their side of the room, and Olivier finally let her arm relax as she settled back against the pillows. A bit more sleep was desirable, but she wanted to listen to those two talk.

"How are you really, Riza?" Rebecca's voice was solemn. "Mustang told me you almost died. I... didn't realize that yesterday in the field hospital."

Olivier's stomach still knotted every time she heard those words.

"I'm tired, Becky," Riza replied. "I... lost a lot of blood. Then kept fighting. And Roy.. his eyes..."

"Oh! You haven't heard!"

"Heard what?"

"Dr. Marcoh was able to restore the Colonel's sight. He had a Philosopher's Stone still."

Riza was silent for a very long minute before she quietly muttered, "What the hell, Roy, you better have thought that through..."

Olivier remembered, with a twinge of jealousy, that Riza had never explained why she talked about Colonel Mustang with his first name. The thought that they might be lovers was... nauseating.

"You have a lot you need to fill me in on, I think." Even Olivier could hear the curiosity bordering on suspicion in Rebecca's voice, and she tried to glance, surreptitiously, toward the two women.

She was met with Rebecca's gaze. The scrutiny was shocking and invasive, and Olivier couldn't help but blush. No one made her blush, but she rarely met eyes with another woman who didn't shy away from her authority. The almost-invisible smirk was lurking around Rebecca's mouth again, though, and Olivier wasn't sure what to think when the woman winked at her.

"So, Riza," Rebecca turned back to her friend, "Tell me, when's the last time you had a date?"

"None of your business, Catalina."

"You mean none of her business, right?" Rebecca gave a not at all subtle glance at the General. "I don't think she'll care that you like girls."

"Lt. Catalina, that's inappropriate." Riza's voice was suddenly very cold.

Olivier swallowed. Hard. Oh, she cared, but not in a way that would jeopardize Hawkeye's career... and she was fairly certain Rebecca had figured it out.

Rebecca giggled. "I think it's safe to say most of the Amestrian Military likes girls, Ri."

"Most of the military are men. Society says they're supposed to like girls," Riza retorted.

Olivier bit back a smile. She needed to talk to Catalina, alone. There was obviously some information she would need before attempting to earn Riza's romantic affections, and there wasn't any better place to start than the best friend.

Olivier was discharged early in the morning after a second night in the hospital. Riza was going to be in for a while longer until the doctors determined there were no permanent side effects to her nearly-fatal blood loss, and that the wound would not reopen.

The General had heard some cautious whispers about alkahestry, and seen some skeptical glances shared between doctors and nurses when Riza wasn't looking.

Or, rather, when they assumed Riza wasn't looking. If there was one thing Olivier had learned during the joint North and East training exercises over the years, it was that the Hawk's Eyes didn't miss much. If anything.

Which was why, after a full twenty-four hours of time together in a private room, Olivier was certain Riza knew of her... affinity for the younger woman.

And why she was certain Riza wasn't interested.

Especially since Riza had easily kept her eyes fastened to a book as Olivier had stripped out of the hospital gown and slowly - very slowly - put her now-clean uniform back on. Miles had delivered it the night before.

Olivier briefly pretended that she was moving so slowly because she wanted Riza to notice. And she did want Riza to notice, but the truth was that she was only just now beginning to feel the full effects of being battered by the homunculus. She tried to tug her military jacket onto one arm, but since the other was still in a sling, all she received for her effort was a mind-numbing ache, along with stabbing pain in her broken ribs. "Blya!" she swore bit more loudly than she intended to.

"Drachman?" Riza spoke up from the bed, and Olivier met her eyes. The General was surprised at the envy hidden back behind the sniper's concern. There was another thing Olivier knew from those training exercises together - Riza hated being stuck resting with nothing to do.

"Hm, as much as we work to keep Drachma out of Amestris, it doesn't prevent us from having to deal with everyday citizens. You'd be surprised at the amount of trade that goes back and forth right over the border. Especially from families who have lived in those mountains since long before Drachma and Amestris even existed as separate countries."

There was a spark of interest in Riza's eyes. Olivier suddenly felt guilty leaving her here alone, but the hospital needed the bed, and Riza would be out soon.

"Buck up, Hawkeye," the General spoke for herself as much as to encourage Riza, "you will be out of here in no time."

Miles was waiting outside the door when she emerged, still wearing his glasses, and Olivier noticed the strained look around his mouth.

Lieutenant Catalina stood on the other side of him, a mischievious look on her face.

"Major Miles, with me, please," Olivier commanded as she stepped away from the door. Miles immediately followed behind her. But two paces down the hall, a thought occurred to her, and she turned back.

Catalina still leaned against the wall, her arms crossed, and a smug smirk on her face.

"Lieutenant, do you have a moment?"

"Of course, General. I was wondering when you were going to ask." The woman's voice was far too bubbly.

Olivier scowled. Miles cleared his throat, but whether it was from irritation that Catalina was accompanying them, or amusement that Olivier had given in to her curiosity was a mystery to her. Or both.

Miles was to Olivier what Hawkeye was to Mustang, the General was certain of that. Their adjutants usually saw through them like a window, though it went both ways.

The three of them walked in silence for several minutes before they found a quiet, secluded hallway. Olivier was almost tempted to just go outside, but she was certain the hospital entrance was as busy as the outside. Central, and the military headquarters, had been extensively damaged on the Promised Day. There was no way they had found all the injured, or the dead, yet.

And there was no way Olivier was going to let another opportunity with Riza pass her by. They had both come too close to dying on the Promised Day.

Mustang was just going to have to deal with sharing Hawkeye.

"Miles, make sure we're not disturbed," Olivier ordered.

"Yes, sir." He took a few steps back and waited at the end of the hall where they had just entered. Olivier took a breath and turned back to the Lieutenant.

"So, Riza's giving you the silent treatment?" Catalina grinned.

Olivier grimaced.

"She likes you, ya'know."

Olivier pinned her gaze on the younger woman. Were they talking about the same Riza?

"Riza doesn't know how to let people in," Catalina continued, "The only one she's let anywhere near her heart is Mustang, and that's only because she feels responsible for everything he's done."

"Why the hell would she feel responsible?" Olivier barked. "He's a grown man, he makes his own decisions."

Lt. Catalina grew solemn. "I don't know the full story myself. But I do know Mustang learned alchemy from her father. Grumman told me as much, but I don't think he knows much more than that himself."

"General Grumman? How could he even tell you that much?"

Catalina laughed. "Riza is his granddaughter, General."

Olivier stilled. His granddaughter? "That explains... some things."

"Riza's affection is easily won, General," Catalina said. "But if you're looking to win her loyalty and devotion, that's a whole 'nother battle."

"What do I need to do?"

By the time Riza was released from the hospital a day and a half later, Olivier was ready.

She'd thoroughly questioned Lt. Catalina, and even Mustang. The latter had been an... awkward conversation. She had to actually take Mustang's advice. Her stomach still soured at the memory. And the look in his eyes as they concluded their... talk. It was the look of a man who had loved a woman, and lost her to another.

That look had almost made Olivier feel ill.

Almost.

Mustang was bringing Riza to the Armstrong manor. To her. During their talk, he'd explained that he was watching Riza's dog - when had Hawkeye become a pet person? - and that she wouldn't be happy if Black Hayate was kept from her for much longer.

Hearing the dog's name, Olivier had thrown Mustang a skeptical glance. Mustang assured Olivier that Riza named the dog, not him, but she wasn't so sure. That was a question she would be asking tonight. If there was a tonight.

They had decided it would be best if he picked Riza up from the hospital and let her spend some time with the dog, and likely shower and change. Then he would bring her here. And Mustang would take the dog back with him for another night, if Riza decided to stay.

But Hawkeye and Mustang would be here any moment, and while Olivier prided herself for her cool, hard demeanor in the North, right now she was anything but. Especially because she wasn't in her uniform.

Briefly - so very briefly - Olivier considered wearing something with a skirt. That thought hadn't lasted long. She barely remembered how to function in civilian clothing. It would be best to stick with something that at least felt similar to her uniform. Something with pants.

Olivier paced. She tried not to keep pacing near the window, but she couldn't help it. It wouldn't do to appear over-eager, and yet what Catalina had told her was that Riza wanted someone who appreciated her, especially as a woman, not a soldier.

How could she find the balance?

The slam of a car door pulled her attention back to the window. Of course they arrived when she was on the other side of the room. Cautiously, Olivier crossed to the window and pushed the curtain back to see outside.

Riza had already opened her door and turned in her seat to get out. Mustang was just exiting the driver's side, and a black and white dog bounded around Riza's feet. That must be Black Hayate.

Mustang held the car door for Riza as she emerged, and there was a slightly confused look on the woman's face. Likely wondering why they were here at the Armstrong manor, and not at her apartment. Mustang appeared tight-lipped, so it was evidently going to be up to Olivier to answer questions.

Once she stopped ogling Hawkeye, at least. Because even if Olivier was uncomfortable in civilian clothing, Riza appeared to be very comfortable in them. And it seemed she enjoyed wearing skirts.

Especially skirts with a slit up the side that flashed just enough leg to show the holster strapped around her thigh. Of course Hawkeye would wear a thigh holster. Under a skirt.

Reluctantly, she dragged her eyes up Riza's body to her face, though the fitted blouse and loose cardigan she wore, belted at the waist, did nothing to help Olivier's concentration.

It was time for her to get to the door. The maid or butler would answer it if it rang, but Olivier wanted to speak with them outside first. Why did her hands tremble on the doorknob?

When she finally opened it - a few eternal seconds later - Mustang and Hawkeye leaned against the car, talking in hushed tones, as Riza tossed a ball back and forth for the dog. Olivier made sure the door closed behind her with a light thud. She didn't want to eavesdrop. Riza's eyes met hers for a moment, but she didn't stop talking, so she must not care if Olivier listened in.

"Why are we here?"

"When you..." Mustang only glanced in Olivier's direction as he spoke. "When you stopped me from killing Envy-" he paused to swallow "-and you said that if you had to-" now he did glance at Olivier, but he only steeled his gaze before looking back at Riza "-had to keep your promise, you didn't want to live on alone."

"Roy-" Riza interrupted, but Roy continued.

"We've depended on only each other for far too long, Riza."

Riza glanced over at Olivier and blushed.

"Roy..." her voice was so soft Olivier barely heard her. He finally fell quiet. "I don't want to hurt you. I... know. How you feel for me."

Mustang's lips pressed together, thin and white from the pressure, and Olivier could have sworn his eyes glistened with tears. "Yes, you know. But if you know - and I suspect you have for quite some time, Riza - and you don't feel the same for me, I don't want you left alone."

Olivier's heart thrummed in her chest. She was right, he did love Riza. And if Riza said yes, Olivier would never be able to repay Mustang. But for the first time ever, the thought of being in his debt wasn't horrifying.

"There is still far too long left on this journey we started together," Mustang said, "and this was not the first time either one of us almost died. I doubt it will be the last. And if - God forbid - I die before you, I don't want you following me because I was your only purpose in life."

Riza's gaze was now bouncing back and forth between Olivier and Mustang. The General didn't want to assume that was hope buried deep in her eyes, but her knees went weak at the thought that it just might be. Olivier couldn't resist taking a few steps more toward them.

The dog crouched down and barked at her, his tail wagging furiously. Olivier frowned. What the hell did that mean?

"Sir, are you sure?" Riza whispered. "The mission has always been the most important thing. I've always been prepared to make any sacrifices necessary."

Mustang finally smiled. "But this one isn't necessary, Riza. Why could Hughes find love, and not you, or me? Please, be happy with someone, even if it isn't me.

Riza's hand clenched in her skirt, and Olivier had to strain to hear what she said next. "Hughes also left Gracia's heart broken, when he died for the mission."

Mustang sighed. "Gracia doesn't wish away their time together, though. Even now."

Olivier was close enough to them now that she could speak up, but it wasn't the right moment. Not yet. As much as Mustang annoyed her, the two of them were obviously very close. She wasn't going to win Riza's loyalty by kicking Mustang in the balls while he was down.

Because if he was giving up the fight for Riza's affection, then he was most certainly down.

"Hayate, come," Mustang said. The dog yipped and eagerly bounced in his direction. "I'll let you two have a moment. If you decide to stay, Riza, I'll take Hayate home with me this evening."

Olivier was certain that turning away and walking to the other side of the drive was the hardest thing Mustang had ever done.

"Hawkeye..."

"General Arm-" Riza stopped, a thoughtful look on her face, and took a deep breath. "Olivier."

Olivier. Riza said her name of her own volition, and Olivier didn't want to even ponder why it made her ache and need.

"I won't transfer." If it were anyone but Riza, Olivier would be surprised at the brusque laying down of rules right from the very beginning. No, scratch that. If it were anyone but herself or Riza.

"I wasn't going to ask, but since you've mentioned it," Olivier smirked, "you know that anything Mustang can do, I can do better. Especially paperwork."

"I'll keep it in mind." Riza grinned back. "What was your plan?"

Plan. The set table inside, dinner waiting in the kitchen to be served, whiskey for a nightcap. Because Mustang had told her Riza's favorite drink was straight whiskey, of all things. Though Olivier preferred vodka herself, so she wasn't one to scoff.

Why the hell were her palms sweating?

"Have dinner with me?" Olivier asked, holding out her hand. "And maybe... more?"

More felt incredibly heavy when she said it. She only meant for that night, for now, didn't she? Why did more feel like a future?

Riza offered a soft smile, throwing a final glance over at Mustang. He was quietly playing with the dog, and didn't even look up.

"All right." Riza took Olivier's hand.

They didn't exchange any words as they walked inside, but when Olivier went to shut the door, Mustang was watching. He finally seemed peaceful.

Olivier turned around to find Riza watching. Her eyes were sparkling. Olivier smiled, and crossed the foyer, reaching to cup Riza's face with her hands. She barely caught sight of the bandages still on her neck.

"How much longer are you in Central, General?"

"Olivier," she emphasized. "And probably until the clean up at Central Command is underway. Briggs men can care for themselves for a while."

"Hmm, good," Riza placed a hand on Olivier's hip and squeezed gently, "I intend to take you up on that challenge, you know."

Olivier wove her fingers into the hair along the nape of Riza's neck. "Challenge?"

"That anything Mustang can do, you can do better."

Olivier laughed, and Riza pulled her in for a kiss.