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The good news was that both Edward and the Colonel were located and extracted from their captors before any state secrets could be coerced from either alchemist.
The bad news was they’d already been drugged with an experimental truth serum, and now they wouldn’t Shut. The. Fuck. Up.
Riza had handled her fair share of intoxicated people in her life. Perhaps it was something in her upbringing that branded her as the “responsible” type, or perhaps it was her propensity to surround herself with a baffling number of incompetent individuals. Time and circumstance had only reaffirmed her position within such dynamics. While people might compliment her on being level-headed and reliable, she was certain those same people would call her a stick in the mud as soon as she was out of earshot. That wasn’t entirely fair. She liked to let loose—just not in front of others.
Her Colonel, however, had no such qualms. She had seen him in a less-than-respectable state many times in their history. No one would deny the deeper trust bestowed upon her than any other member of the team, a trust in her discretion—something desperately needed in times of vulnerability.
That was why, when both state alchemists on their team were recovered after a kidnapping and violent interrogation, Riza was the one to step in and take the reins.
They were little worse for wear when they’d been found, several kilometers from their place of captivity. Mustang’s unbroken hand had been cuffed to Ed’s only remaining one.
She really did have to thank the universe for small mercies: the Drachman insurgents had taken Ed’s arm. While his being able to perform alchemy might have aided their escape, she shuddered to think what might have happened if either of them had attempted alchemy under the effects of this cocktail of inhibiting drugs.
Riza had no idea what the two alchemists had been drugged with, but she was certain it was intended to loosen their tongues to reveal state secrets. The chemical analysis of the substance collected at the scene would be processed soon enough. Though not in life-threatening danger, they still needed to be monitored until their systems could flush the chemical out. That would take time, so Riza had arranged for a joint hospital room in an attempt to make her own task easier.
That task was to protect them from their own running mouths.
And make no mistake. Their mouths ran.
Loudly.
"Any other major injuries?" Riza looked up from the patient records on her clipboard, "Where does it hurt?"
"No where," Ed boasted, "I feel great. Watch—I'm gonna do a flip."
Ed moved to stand on his bed. He didn’t get past a wobbly crouch before Hawkeye intercepted.
"Edward, do not do a flip."
"Aw..."
Ed flopped back down without argument. Riza was eager to know what serum could make Edward so compliant. And on an unrelated note, she’d also like to know if there was a supplier in Amestris.
"Can..." Mustang looked to her with hopeful eyes, "Can I do a flip?"
Riza sighed. "I don’t think you’ve ever done a flip in your life, sir."
Her colonel considered this before sighing in defeat.
"Yeah..." He slumped and looked down at his hands in his lap.
"I think you can, Colonel," Ed encouraged.
"Thank you, Fullmetal."
"I got you, home-slice," the boy raised his fist in solidarity.
Riza glanced between the two for a moment before returning to the clipboard.
“So, no other major injuries? Nothing hurts?"
"Fullmetal's leg is spicy," Mustang claimed.
"Ssssspicy," Edward repeated from his bed with the flourish of a single bruised jazz hand.
"Spicy?" Riza pressed. "What do you mean? Is it hot?"
"Lieutenant!" Roy mocked being scandalized by her comment. "He's a minor."
"According to Winry, automail is very hot," Ed cackled.
"Is it hot to the touch, Edward?" Riza sighed. "Is it causing any discomfort?"
"It's kinda stingy," he touched it gingerly, "and sssssssparky."
"It's sparking?" She stepped closer to see if she could spot any signs of sparks or smoke from the appendage.
"Yeah... but only when I move it," Ed waved it off, flopping back against the pillows of the bed.
"Well, Edward, that's a fire hazard," she informed him.
"And that's my job, so knock it off," Mustang pointed a crooked finger at the boy.
"Sir—"
"Yeah, Sir," Ed sneered with a smile. "You're the one who made my leg sparky, so it's still your fault if this place goes up in flames."
"Strange, 'cause last time I checked," Roy leaned back against the pillows of his own bed, crossing his arms, "you’ve burned more houses down than I have."
"Sir!" Riza gasped, turning to cremate him with a glare.
Behind her, however, the noise that escaped Ed’s throat was akin to that of an outraged goose and dissolved into ruthless needling cackles.
After a few breaths, trying to collect himself, he did his best to put on a straight face, matching gazes with Mustang across the room.
"It was for the insurance money," Ed barely managed to get the words out before soundless giggles and desperate wheezes overtook him and dragged Mustang along with him.
Riza felt a bit uncomfortable with the way the alchemists were making light of what she knew to be a very sensitive subject. It felt disrespectful toward the Elric brothers, but she had never seen Edward laugh like this.
It turns out his laugh was probably the most childish quality of his. It was as bright and vibrant as the fire in his golden eyes. It had a warm and endearing quality that lifted the corners of her mouth subconsciously.
And Mustang—well, Riza had heard Mustang laugh. Mustang’s laugh was a courtesy to his unfunny higher-ups. It was a tool for manipulation when asking for favors. It was a bitter, hollow thing that escaped the trenches of his throat between floods of bourbon.
The laugh she heard now was not Mustang’s, but Roy’s. It was the laugh she remembered when she'd made him laugh on the bench swing under the willow tree of her late mother's garden.
It was the laugh of the man she promised to follow to the ends of the earth. She never thought she’d ever hear such a sound again.
"Lieutenant?"
"Yes, sir?" Riza's exasperated tone was at least accompanied by a fond smile now.
"What's wrong?" A crease deepened between the Colonel's eyebrows as he studied her face with unfocused eyes. "Are you mad 'cause I didn’t put his leg on right? And now it’s spicy?"
Behind her, she could hear Edward whispering, "Ssssssspicy," under his breath. She ignored him and his presumed jazz hand.
"No, sir," she answered her Colonel. "In fact, considering the fact that you know next to nothing about automail, you did a fine job reattaching it."
"I’m sure Miss Rockbell will be able to address the issue when she arrives."
Ed's glassy eyes lit up, and he sat up at full, inebriated attention. "Winry’s comin'? For real? Oh hell yeah."
"Hell yeah," Roy echoed encouragingly.
"Hell yeah," Ed flopped back against the pillows. "Holy shit, Winry’s comin’. I— I fucking love her. Hey—do yo—" He sat back up to address Riza. "Did—did you know that, Lieutenant? 'Cause I do. I love her."
“I had my suspicions," Riza kept her eyes down on the paperwork on her clipboard in an effort to hide her smile.
"That’s right," Ed slumped once more against the pillows and spoke to no one in particular. "‘Cause she’s great. She’s so smart 'n talented..."
"That's very sweet, Edward," she said softly, but Ed’s eyes went wide, and he shot up once more with a revelation.
"But shhhhh, you gotta—" He slid toward the edge of the bed to get closer to the Lieutenant. "Shhhhh, okay? 'Cause—'cause no one knows. Not even God… or Al."
"I’m pretty sure Alphonse knows."
"No way,” the boy denied, “Not unless God told him. Oh! Do you think God told him? Fucking narc."
"Well—"
"Psst," Roy stage-whispered to Riza. "Fullmetal loves Wendy—"
"Winry, sir."
"Wi—yeah. I—I think he wants to kiss her," Roy teased.
"I wanna kiss her on the mouth," Ed confirmed bluntly, and Riza actually had to bring her hand up to cover her smile.
"Oh hell yeah," Roy pumped his fist.
"Hell yeah," Ed lazily returned the fist pump.
Riza watched as Roy’s eyes went bright with his next statement. "You should tell her!"
"I’m gonna tell her," Ed agreed without a moment's hesitation.
"Lieutenant," Mustang beamed and tried to reclaim a semblance of authority by sitting up straight in bed and waving his hand. "Bring the boy a phone, post haste."
"Yeah!" Ed turned to her with a matching smile.
Riza couldn’t help but wonder if this was what Trisha Elric had felt like whenever her boys had come to her begging for permission to do something slightly ill-advised. Both alchemists were looking at her, eager hope filling their undilated eyes. Her heart twinged in sympathy for Trisha Elric—a woman she’d never met. Being the voice of reason was a thankless job, one resented by dreamers and lovers alike.
"I will not be doing that, sir."
“Awwww,” Ed’s face fell as he slumped. "Is it— Is it because our love is forbidden?"
"It’s not forbidden," she placed a gentle hand on Ed’s back in an effort to keep the delirious boy from crumpling any further.
"Well, you’re forbidding it," he lolled his head to meet her gaze.
"I think you should still tell her," she amended, "but I think you should do so when this drug is out of your system."
Ed scrunched his face at the suggestion.
"'S stupid."
“I won’t stand for this, Lieutenant," the Colonel feebly attempted to get to his feet and carefully walk over to her. "You have to let him call her. He—he loves. He’s in love! You can’t stop true love. It’s—it’s illegal! It says so in the Bible!"
"Which Bible is that, sir?"
Roy narrowed his eyes. "The big one."
Riza nodded. "I’ll have to reread it to confirm. In the meantime, I feel it would be best to keep the love confessions to a minimum until the drugs are out of your system."
She took him by the shoulders and guided him to sit down on the edge of his bed.
"True love is a drug that will never be out of his system," Roy declared, looking over to Ed. "Right, Fullmetal?"
"Wait," Ed squinted, "Who are you?"
"That’s right," the Colonel held up a triumphant fist.
Riza placed her hand over the fist in order to push it back down, but Roy went down as well, flopping horizontally across his bed.
"Hey—hey—don," he lifted his head just enough to look at her, "D—do you, so you wanna hear the song Fullmetal taught me?"
Riza did her best to hide her frantic alarm at the perceived threat. "I really do not—"
Mustang's head flopped back to look up at the ceiling as he commanded, "Take it away, Ed."
"Oh, when the saints—"
"Oh, when the saints—" Roy echoed.
"Go marching in—"
"Go marching in—" Roy chorused, his head lulling to the side to make eye contact with his lieutenant.
Riza opened her mouth to ask them to stop but noticed silence. Roy waited for Ed to sing the next line of the call and response, but it never came. Both turned to the boy’s bed in confusion.
Ed looked at them, devastated, his eyes brimming with tears, and whispered, "I forgot the rest."
"Thank you, Edward. It was lovely," Riza dismissed. "I think the both of you need some rest now."
"I see what you’re saying. I do,” Ed held a placating hand out to Hawkeye, "and—and I appreciate that, Lieutenant, but that man—" Ed moved his outstretched hand to point at Mustang, "That one—that’s literally my best friend."
The claim gave Riza pause. She wondered how reliable the inebriated could really be in extracting truth. She’d never known either Edward or the Colonel to consider the other a "friend," much less a "best friend."
"I... I’m glad, Edward," she shook her head, brushing the claim off. "But the two of you still need rest."
"No, no, 'cause—" Roy sloppily stacked his vertebrae into an upright position. "He’s right, 'cause we—we bonded, and now we—we’re friends, and we have friendship, and that means we never need to sleep."
The man reasoned as if it was a simple conclusion.
"That’s not how that works, sir."
"Aw."
"Boo!" Ed heckled from across the room.
Riza gestured for Roy to get back into bed properly, and he complied.
Hawkeye had no idea what kind of bonding must have occurred, but she was certain it had to be drug-induced. The Colonel had always cringed at any implication that his role regarding Edward was at all parental. He liked to flatter himself and describe it as that of a mentor. Nobody agreed with that sentiment—certainly not Edward. He wasn’t some teacher with a deep-seated care for a troubled student.
Riza was loath to admit it, but Edward was actually quite right. The Colonel was a bastard. He had recruited an orphaned child into the military for his own professional gain. And if the end goal hadn’t been for the greater good of their country, Riza didn’t think she could have stood by and watched such blatant manipulation of a child.
She understood. They had both had to set their moral conscience aside to do what needed to be done. But there were nights when the self-loathing would seep out after a few fingers of bourbon—usually in the wake of Edward being hospitalized.
She’d hear him reflect on whether a man capable of recklessly endangering a child should even be fit to lead a country. She’d do her best to remind him—and herself—that what the country needed was what Edward had needed: not a father, not a caretaker, not a mentor, but hope. Hope that things could change, and someone to reignite the fire in their eyes—someone to fuel the desire to make things better.
And now, thinking about it, she’d seen Hughes do the very same thing for Roy. A relationship that had started off as antagonistic grew into a rivalry and somehow blossomed into a friendship that was so raw and rare.
If she allowed herself a moment to ponder, she could very well imagine an older Edward Elric in Maes’s spot next to Roy at the bar—the dynamic strikingly similar.
That led to a whole new, unfortunate discovery. She’d known the two alchemists could get loud whenever they bickered and squabbled. She had never imagined that the two of them actually getting along could somehow make them even louder.
Mustang settled back into bed and let out a sigh. “Can we go to the cafeteria?”
“No, sir,” she raised an eyebrow. “Why? Are you hungry?”
Roy looked away and scowled. “No.”
“Then why do you want to go to the cafeteria?”
“I just want to say hi,” the Colonel grumbled.
Riza was torn between satiating her curiosity and preserving her last fraying nerve. Curiosity won.
“Just want to say hi to who, sir?”
“To the food,” Roy sighed. “I don’t wanna eat it; I just wanna look at it. Say hi.”
“Like the zoo,” Ed supplied, “but with food.”
Riza closed her eyes and fought back a smile as she suggested, “Well, maybe when you’re feeling better, the two of you can just go to the zoo.”
“Ooor,” Ed whined, “right now, we can go downstairs to the food zoo.”
This was like compromising with a toddler.
“I’ll have someone bring some food up for you to look at.”
“Aww, that’s not the same!”
Two toddlers.
Two loud toddlers.
Ed lolled his head to catch Roy's gaze in his mirrored position across the room. “Is the drug out yet?”
“Hang on, I’ll ask,” Mustang turned to the Lieutenant. “Is the drug out yet?”
Riza, standing equidistant from the alchemists in their respective beds, had clearly heard Ed ask, but responded to Mustang, who insisted on playing “translator.”
“I highly doubt it, sir.”
The two of them “booed” at her answer.
Riza stared desperately at the clock on the hospital room wall. “The doctors said it will be some time before the effects wear off.”
“Psh, poppycock—”
“Poppy what?”
“We’re fine,” Ed continued. “Here, watch, I’ll ask a question.”
Ed leaned forward, his face scrunched in concentration as he appraised Roy.
“Do you... do you like birds?”
“No, fuck birds,” Roy said immediately.
“Fuck birds,” Ed agreed instantly. “What’s your least favorite bird?”
“Fucking pigeons,” Roy scowled, leaning closer to match Ed’s level of severity.
“Fuck pigeons,” Ed declared.
“Fuck pigeons,” Roy echoed. “Lieutenant, do you like pigeons?”
She sighed. “I don’t mind pigeons.”
“Fuck pigeons,” Roy grumbled.
“Okay, your turn,” Ed pointed at Mustang, who sat in the bed across from him. Mustang sat up so they were eye to eye before posing his own sobriety test.
“Do you like… the bassoon?”
Ed blinked twice in contemplation before confessing, “I’m not sure which one the bassoon is.”
A small smile crept up Mustang’s face. “You may not now...”
Ed squinted. “Huh?”
“You may not now,” Roy grinned. “Ba-soon you will.”
The two of them cackled in their beds across from each other.
Riza glanced up. That clock had to be broken.
“Okay,” Roy recovered from the wheezing his own dumb joke had caused. “You go again. Interrogate me.”
“Do—uhhhh,” Ed hummed, “Do you have any allergies?”
“Shellfish,” Mustang answered.
“Really?” Ed cocked his head with a smirk. “Is that why you call me ‘shrimpy’?”
“You’re a threat to my health,” Mustang confirmed with a grin. “Good thing you’re such a small dose.”
“I may be short, but at least I won’t get my shit wrecked by a crab rangoon.”
Roy’s cocky smile fell. He sighed. “That’s fair.”
"Wait," Ed exclaimed, "I have a question."
"What is your question, Edward?" Riza asked patiently.
"I don’t remember, and I’m mad."
"Well, why don’t you take a few minutes to try to—"
"Wait, I remember." Ed pointed to Mustang and got out of bed, nearly tripping over his IV as he stumbled over to Mustang's bedside. "You—I have a question I wanna ask—"
Mustang moved his legs to allow Ed room on the bed, which the boy took full advantage of.
"What’s your standard for recruitment?"
"Huh?"
"Those guys with the—" Ed brought his fingers up, wiggling them while making a clicking sound, "needles. The ones with the fists. They said that because you let me be a State Alchemist as a kid, there’s no telling who or what you wouldn’t recruit."
"That’s not—"
"So, like, what’s your hard limit on recruitment? Like, if I was a dog. Like a literal dog who could do alchemy, would you recruit me?"
"Ed, if you were a dog that could do alchemy, I would freaking adopt you."
"Really?"
"Hell yeah."
"Wait till I tell Al, he’s gonna flip. If we were dogs, we would have been adopted! There’s hope for us after all!"
"Wait, now hang on. What’s that supposed to mean?"
"Means that, uh, you know, ’cause if we were dogs, then someone would want us."
"That’s crazy. You don’t have to be a dog for someone to want you. Who wouldn’t want you just as you are?"
"Hohenheim bailed even before I royally fucked things up," Ed leaned back, arms behind his head, staring at the ceiling. "Not sure what I did, but I just... I just wish he hadn’t walked out on Al too, you know? Al would be a good dog, but he’s a great kid. Any family would be thrilled to have him if I hadn’t screwed him up first."
"Edward—"
"I think he’d be a Golden Retriever..."
"Fullmetal—"
"Okay, maybe a Collie, but I really think Golden Retriever is—"
"Ed," they said in unison.
"Goddamn, when were rehearsals for that? That was great."
Riza sighed, raking a hand through her bangs.
"I—I don’t," Mustang cleared his throat and sat up, trying and failing to blink more clarity into his consciousness. "I don’t remember what the dog thing was, but what I do know is that when, you know, when dogs get abandoned, you don’t blame the dog; you blame the owner. And I don’t give a damn what the excuses are for leaving them behind—it’s not right." Finding more confidence in his words, he continued, "And then dogs—if they don’t have an owner, they don’t know any better. They’re probably scared and alone and fighting to survive. Now tell me, is it right to put down a stray dog for doing what it thinks it needs to in order to survive?"
Ed’s eyes squinted in concentration as he tried to read the Colonel’s expression. After a considerable moment, his eyes widened.
"A-are you saying if Al were a Golden Retriever, we’d need to put him down?"
"I don’t think he’s talking about dogs anymore, Edward."
"Oh." Ed wiped a tear that never even got the chance to fall.
"What I’m saying is," Mustang took a deep breath, "being abandoned— s’not your fault. Being a stray doesn’t mean no one wants you. Home isn’t one place, and family isn’t confined to it."
"Did... did you... have you ever been a stray?"
"I’d say I was ‘between owners,’" Mustang scoffed a little, "but yeah, kid. I was."
"Weren’t you scared?"
"A little, but like I said, a dog’s gonna do what he needs to in order to survive. And I was only scared because I didn’t realize how many people were looking out for me."
He gave Edward a look that suggested a deeper meaning to that statement.
"I guess people like dogs," Ed shrugged.
"Even dogs that aren’t their own," Mustang mused softly, "or dogs they just don’t have the means to take in."
"Like Al and the cats he finds. Just because we can’t keep them doesn’t mean we don’t care."
"Exactly. No matter how much they want to take the dog—because it’s a good dog," Mustang looked him in the eyes, "you’re a really good dog, Fullmetal."
Ed’s glassy eyes grew too watery, and a tear broke free, cascading down his face.
"Really?" he asked, and both of them ignored how his voice cracked under the weight of desperation.
"Really," Roy reverently confirmed.
Ed ducked his head, pulling his knees up to hide his face. Mustang pulled the boy into a hug, letting out a sigh as his shoulders relaxed.
"Sir..." Riza’s soft voice commended the sentiment but was answered with a soft snore in return. Riza scrunched her brow. "Edward?"
Another, softer snore followed, mimicking the first.
Oh.
Well, it wasn’t uncommon for men to fall asleep after their emotional battery was drained. Either that, or it was the drugs. Regardless, Riza gently leaned them back across the bed and laid her uniform jacket over them both.
She and Miss Rockbell would have much to talk about the next time they had tea.
If it hadn’t been preceded by the telltale sound of clanking armor, Hawkeye wouldn’t have bothered answering the knock at the door.
"Come in, Alphonse."
"Lieutenant?" Al did his best to sound meek and unintrusive as he slipped through the door. "I brought you some coffee."
Riza’s grateful smile came unbidden.
Yes, Golden Retriever was rather apt.
"Thank you, Alphonse," she said, taking it from his large, careful hands.
"I also got you a muffin," he added sheepishly, "but an orderly bumped into me, and I dropped it, so I fed it to the pigeons in the courtyard."
Her smile fell slightly as she whispered, "Fuck pigeons."