Here I am with my contribution for this year's FMA Rarepair Week :) As intimidating as it may be for this ship, this story fills the prompt "first I love you" and I did my best to try to keep both Roy and Olivier as in character as possible.

I have a couple notes before you read this, though.

For brotherhood-only fans, you should know that Roy's reaction after the battle, when he believes he'll stay blind, is different in the manga and the anime, so you might find this confusing. In the manga, before Marcoh showed up, Roy had accepted he'd have to leave the military, and that's the reaction I'm working with here.

Also, you could consider this story as being in the same universe as the story I've written for the FMA Big Bang. Both stories can be read separately without any issues (and in fact there is a three year timeskip between them and everything), but in my mind they are the same universe.

The story has been beta-read by Annie, who's also my partner in the FMABB and :)

And I think that's all. I hope you like it!

Explain Yourself

The room was quiet, far too quiet.

Roy had been told that Riza would be moved to the other bed once she was released from the intensive care unit, but for now he was the only occupant of this hospital room. He had sent his team off to work on different tasks —Fuery was monitoring the military's communications following today's battle, Falman had gone to find some materials for Roy to work with while he was in the hospital, Breda had just left for the train station to pick Havoc up when his train finally arrived— and Roy was now regretting the decision. At least Falman's task could have waited, it wasn't as if Roy could use anything of what he found until he had his sight back, but Roy had been feeling so useless stuck in this hospital bed… He felt even more useless now. And isolated.

He could hear people outside, nurses hurrying down the hallways, people looking for an injured loved one, some patients complaining… and all Roy could do was listen. Listen and try to ignore the utter darkness that enveloped him, reminding himself all the time that it wasn't truly dark, that he would get his sight back once Havoc was here and Marcoh had fixed his legs —because Roy would recover his sight, he refused to consider the alternative.

For now, however, he couldn't even fidget. He'd forgotten it sometimes, so desperate for something to do that he'd moved to touch the sheet, perhaps bundle it between his fingers, only for a sharp spike of pain to remind him that his eyes weren't the only part of his body Marcoh had to fix. Now that the adrenaline of the battle was gone, moving his hands was excruciating.

A loud bang startled him, and Roy raised his right hand and snapped his fingers, forgetting that he didn't have his gloves. He hissed and winced when the movement set his palm virtually aflame, and he brought his hand close to his chest. Roy barely stopped himself from making a more telling noise.

A snort answered him.

"You would've heard shots if I was an enemy," Olivier Armstrong said, her familiar voice the last one Roy had expected to grace this hospital room.

"Would I?" Roy asked, making an effort to mask his surprise. He lowered his hand to rest on his legs over the sheet and slightly straightened his back, hoping to adopt a more dignified position.

"You have a small battalion out there guarding the door," Olivier said, her voice dry.

Roy had to hold back his surprise again.

Really?

He didn't ask. He didn't question why no one had entered the room if there were people outside, or why he hadn't been told about them —he should have known, he reasoned; his team wouldn't have left him unprotected in his current state, they must have assumed he'd known it. It was proof of how out of things Roy was that he hadn't even thought about it.

"Of course," Roy said, doing his best to make his voice reflect a certainty he didn't feel. Olivier wouldn't be impressed by his lack of thinking, and his brain hadn't been working so well since… well, since he had stopped seeing. "May I help you with anything, Major General Armstrong?"

This time the noise was softer, and Roy had half-expected it. Olivier had closed the door.

"You could tell me what the fuck you were thinking," she snapped.

Roy blinked, a useless gesture in his current state.

"Pardon?" Many things had happened today, and he had no idea what she could be talking about. Considering the circumstances, Roy thought he had handled things pretty well. Unless she was referring to Envy, of course, but Roy doubted she had heard about that. Nobody who knew could have told her: last he'd heard, Riza had been sedated; Edward must be glued to Alphonse's side; and Scar… well, Roy had heard of Scar's fight with Bradley.

A few thuds followed his words, and Roy realised belatedly that it must be Olivier stalking up to him. She did sound closer when she spoke next.

"Alex told me," she started slowly, her voice too controlled for Roy's liking, "that when you thought you'd stay blind you were willing to resign."

Oh, that.

"Well, I'm not sure if you have noticed, Major General, but this isn't exactly an ideal condition for a soldier."

Something slammed against his left shoulder, and Roy's hands were up and ready to clap before he realised it was Olivier's hand, now pressing him against the headboard. Roy lowered his hands, disconcerted.

"Fuck that bullshit," she hissed. Roy could feel her breath on his face. "We both know you don't give up easily. What the hell were you thinking?"

Roy was left grasping for words for a moment. Of all the things... Many responses crossed his mind. He opened his mouth, almost commenting that he would have expected Olivier to be happy to get rid of the competition, but he didn't say it. He was in no mood to joke, and she'd probably run him through anyway.

"With all due respect, Major General," Roy started, surprising himself with the cold tone his voice had adopted —for all their bickering, that was a tone Roy had never used with Olivier before, "whatever I think or decide is none of your business."

Olivier's hand pressed harder against his shoulder.

"It's my business when you survive impossible odds just to decide to give up without even fighting. I thought you had more balls than this, Roy. Did you really think nobody would want you to stay in the military just because you'd gone blind?"

Belatedly, Roy realised that Olivier wasn't angry at him. Oh, she was angry, her voice was the one she used seconds before drawing her sword on someone, but it wasn't Roy that she wanted to draw her sword on.

Damn, he thought, for the first time aware of just how much information he must be missing in this conversation. He was left guessing and grasping at straws.

"That doesn't matter now," Roy said finally. "Your brother has obviously told you about Doctor Marcoh as well, so why are you here?"

Olivier moved back, her hand falling from his shoulder, and Roy immediately missed being so aware that he wasn't alone in the room. Moments after, the bed dipped on his right, signalling that she had sat there.

"The situation may have changed," Olivier said, and her fingers brushed over his. Roy startled, caught completely by surprise by such an... odd gesture coming from her, "but I want your word that you won't decide to just give up ever again, no matter what happens."

Roy didn't answer immediately, trying to figure out what he could from the strange mix of harsh and subdued in Olivier's voice.

"What brought this about?" Roy finally asked, unable to hold back. Olivier wasn't always the unmoving ice statue so many soldiers liked to joke about —Roy could testify to that, to having made that front crumble on many occasions— but this was extremely unlike her. She could be demanding, impulsive and loud, but this was the first time ever that Roy had witnessed —for lack of a better word— her being almost soft.

Olivier sighed.

"As you know, I've spent a few wonderful months amongst the former brass," she started, sarcasm dripping from her words at the definition. "I was expecting it to be disgusting, and to have to contain myself more than once to avoid stabbing someone early." Here her voice took on a pleased and somewhat cruel edge that Roy wasn't entirely unfamiliar with. He'd heard the reports of what had happened with the brass, and how instrumental Olivier had been to disposing of some of them.

"I've heard you got some satisfaction there," Roy said, and was rewarded by the soft exhale that accompanied one of Olivier's rare half-chuckles.

Olivier's fingers slid up to the edge of the bandage around Roy's hand.

"Not enough, I assure you. Do you know what most of those meetings were about?" she asked, but didn't wait for a response. "The only loose end in their plan." She paused for a moment, and her fingers skirted over the bandage, the touch light enough not to hurt. "How to force you to perform human transmutation."

"...I see," Roy said, unsurprised. After what had happened today, how many options there had been to force him to open the gate, he couldn't even pretend to be surprised. He was more surprised by the fact that Olivier had been particularly affected by that topic.

"Then I arrived at that underground room and learnt what had happened with the Bradleys," she continued, and her hand retreated. The blanket moved beneath Roy's own hand, pulling towards her. "And when you reappeared you were fucking blind. I could've gone back to command and killed the remaining generals right then, but someone had to take over the situation once the battle was over."

She'd been worried. Olivier Armstrong had been worried about Roy himself, not just his role in today's coup.

Roy raised his hand and reached out for hers. His little finger brushed her sleeve, and he followed it down until he could rest his palm, very carefully, over her closed fist.

"I'm sorry," he apologised, though he wasn't sure why. He had expected his team to care; the Elrics, too, despite Edward's penchant for arguing with him at every turn. But Olivier? Their relationship might involve many things outside of strict military interactions, but emotions had never been amongst them. At least not officially, something that Roy had accepted to live with.

Olivier surprised him by chuckling again.

"You know, the first time I agreed to sleep with you I expected you to back down."

"I'm aware," Roy said, holding back a smile. He'd been flirting with her during the first joint training Roy had attended with Briggs, much to Olivier's annoyance, and then Olivier had suddenly accepted his not-so-subtle proposal the last night the Eastern troops had been at Briggs. Roy had taken the chance to make a good impression, and it had worked, much to the puzzlement of the rumour mills of both bases that hadn't been able to make head or tails of their interactions for six years.

Olivier unclenched her fist and turned her hand around, leaving her palm open in a loose hold below Roy's.

"I wasn't expecting to care. It takes me a lot to care about people, but you wormed your way in at some point. And I hadn't even noticed until everyone around me was planning your potential murder."

Roy closed his eyes —again with the useless gesture— and this time allowed himself to smile.

"While I wasn't expecting it at first either, I'm afraid I've been aware of how I feel for some time."

The sheets rustled and the dip on the bed changed, but Olivier didn't withdraw her hand as she moved.

"How long?" she asked, again close enough for Roy to feel her breath on his skin.

Roy opened his eyes, and hoped that they had found Olivier's face even if he had no way to know.

"How long have I known I love you? Since you contacted me to start this crazy operation. Knowing you were willing to trust me so much with something this dangerous really made me think." Because they hadn't been able to so much as sit and plan even the most basic of their actions, but Olivier had implicitly trusted him to manage his part of the operation. Being so aware that she trusted him that much had been enough for Roy to think and sort himself out. "But then you refused my first attempt to ask you out on a date," he added more lightly.

Olivier snorted.

"That was you asking me out?"

"Well, we had an audience, I couldn't just drag you to the first supplies closet and do what I wanted to you."

"Poor you," Olivier said, light amusement in her voice for the first time. Her hand disappeared from below Roy's and she raised it to touch his face. "You can come home with me when they release you and I'll make it up to you."

"A night at the famous Armstrong Estate?" Roy asked, keeping his voice light and holding back his newest bout of surprise. He had never been in Olivier's bed there, the only time he had set foot at the Estate outside of some party her parents had organised had been to warn her that Selim Bradley was an homunculus.

Olivier hummed.

"I did offer the house to you. The least I can do is let you stay there. Though I won't be offering you a room."

"I'm sure I'll live."