The visits began in spring. It was an unusually cold season, drizzly and foggy and miserable for a time that was supposed to be nature's rebirth. Gracia had been surprised by the knock at the door, and had answered it with dough clinging to her forearms and her hands wrapped in a dishtowel. Roy Mustang was the last person she had expected on her doorstep.

Still, surprised as she was, she was pleased to see him. She invited him in for tea, despite his protests that he was clearly interrupting her. The dough needed to rise, she explained, she didn't need to tend to it immediately.

It was awkward. Neither knew quite what to say to the other. The years stretched between them, outlined in silence. A year since Maes' death, two years since Roy had left Central, one year since had returned and made little contact other than pleasantries and holiday cards.

Soon, Gracia tired of the halting attempts at conversation, both of them finally opening their mouths to speak and then shutting them, realizing the other had done so as well. It wasn't right. They'd been close, once, or something akin to close. And yet here they were, sitting stiffly and uncomfortably as distant relatives at the reading of a will. But she knew that she couldn't be surprised. Maes' death was between them like a barrier. How ironic it was, that the man who had brought them together in life kept them apart in death.

"Roy, this is ridiculous," she had finally told him, setting aside her tea. And it was. If her husband's best friend didn't feel welcome in her home, something was wrong.

"I shouldn't have come." Roy stood up abruptly and Gracia sighed.

"Sit down. Of course you should have come, I'm glad to see you! You used to be over nearly every Sunday for dinner, and now we're lucky to see you a few times a year."

He looked as though he was going to speak, and Gracia could read the words that were going to come in his eye. That he had no right to be in this place, without Maes. She held up a hand to silence him.

"Don't argue, Roy. It doesn't need to be this way, and it shouldn't be." Her lips closed into a serious line. "Come by for dinner this Sunday."

"I couldn't..."

"You have other plans?" She kept the query light, conversational. His hesitation in answering was all the confirmation that she needed. "You're a horrible cook, Roy. I'd bet it's been years since you had a good home cooked meal. Besides, Elysia would love to see you. Come by Sunday evening. I'll make a pork roast."

She took Roy's silence as an agreement.

***

After that Sunday, Roy's visits became more regular. Gracia grew accustomed to him stopping by after work, dropping by before a date or during his lunch. The awkwardness remained, heavy and thick and so obvious it was painful. They never mentioned Maes. Sometimes the conversation would drift in that direction, and always Roy would jerk it back, as though afraid. It was understandable, but tiring. She knew a breaking point would come. It was like a gathering storm.

It came on a Tuesday afternoon. Gracia heard the familiar knock on the door and set aside the framed picture she was debating placing on the mantle. There was a box of them set out in the living room, signaling Gracia’s yearly photograph rotation. There were too many to display them all.

“Roy, so good to see you!” She smiled warmly, glad for the company. He was becoming quite familiar around the townhouse. “Have you eaten? I was going to fix some fruit salad, once I was done in the living room.”

“That sounds fine, thank you.” Roy followed her into the house. “Have I come at a bad time?”

“Oh no, not at all!” Gracia shook her head, still smiling. “I’m just switching out a few pictures. I do it every so often. Maes took so many, we just don’t have the room to have them all out at once.”

She dropped her husband’s name casually, on purpose. She watched as Roy stiffened, as his demeanor changed entirely. It was if he suddenly remembered he was in a place he didn’t belong to be.

“I should go.”

“Don’t be silly.” Gracia turned, her hands planted on her hips. “Roy, you knew we couldn’t avoid the subject forever.”

“I don’t know what…”

“Maes.” She frowned, slightly. “It’s been years, Roy. And I don’t understand why you avoid talking about him with me.”

“It isn’t personal,” Roy finally managed, stiffly.

“Well it should be.” Gracia sighed. “I’m his wife. This is his home. If you’re going to avoid the subject, it had better be personal! Or are you afraid I‘m going to burst into tears at the mention of him? You should give me more credit than that.”

“I have no right.”

“No right? No right to what?” Roy wasn’t making any sense.

“To any of this! I have no right to come into his home, to… to…” Roy trailed off, clearly agitated. Gracia tucked a bit of her hair behind her ear and shook her head.

“If anyone has a right, it’s you. You were his best friend, Roy. If anyone’s going to be looking out for me and Elysia, he’d want it to be you. And I want it to be you. And if you keep arguing, I‘m going to be very cross with you. We should be able to have a conversation without this hovering between us.”

Roy said something, too softly for Gracia to hear. He lowered his head and muttered, still looking uncomfortable and distraught. Gracia moved passed him, into the kitchen. She returned with iced tea and handed him a glass.

“Why don’t you help me with the pictures?”

Roy’s expression was one of pain, and perhaps there was a hint of fear. But he nodded stiffly and joined her in the living room, awkward and tense as a man being punished. They didn’t speak until they said their goodbyes.

***

“Elysia, hurry up!”

Gracia stood in the entranceway of the house, a large canvas bag at her feet. Only nine years old, and already she took ages to get ready to go anywhere. It was as endearing as it was annoying. Gracia opened her mouth to call her daughter once more, but closed it quickly at the knock on the door. She turned smoothly and opened it, pleasantly surprised to see the now-familiar form of Roy on the doorstep.

“I…” Roy trailed off, looking surprised. Gracia smiled. She’d traded in her usual housedress for a bright yellow sundress and white jacket, in preparation for a day out.

“You have tools,” she said easily, brushing off Roy’s surprise.

“I noticed your gutters…” he said, flicking his eyes upward. “I thought I’d… ahem. Clean them.”

“Home improvement?” Gracia’s eyes sparkled a bit. Things were so much easier now, so much more relaxed. “We’re just on our way out…why don’t you join us?”

“Join you?”

“We’re going to the park.” Gracia waved her hand to her bag. “The gutters will be fine. They’ve gone years without cleaning already. Unless you have a date later…?”

“No, I don’t.”

No, he didn’t. And Gracia had known that already. Roy hadn’t been on a date in months. He came here, instead. He helped with dinner, he discussed history with Elysia, he listened to the news on the radio, he washed the dishes, he went shopping with her - he may as well have moved in. And Gracia had noticed but not said anything, for fear of chasing him away. And it felt so good to have him around the house. Half of her was guilty over it. But she couldn’t help it. The house had felt so empty for so long, and Roy eased that.

“Then you don’t have any excuse. I’ve packed a lunch, and there’s more than enough for the three of us.”

Elysia finally joined them, hopping on one foot as she pulled on a shoe. She smiled brightly at Roy, hopping quickly and then running to greet him with an exclamation and a hug.

“If you’re certain I won’t be intruding…”

“Oh honestly, Roy.” Gracia reached out and patted his shoulder, cautious. “It’s never an intrusion. You’re family.”

***

Autumn in Central was warm in the daylight, cold in the evening. Gracia was pleased she’d worn a light jacket.

“Are you sure she isn’t too heavy?”

Elysia had practically passed out after dinner, sprawled across a park bench and sighing loudly. She’d spent most of the day running around, and Gracia didn’t blame her for being so tired.

“I’m sure.”

Roy hadn’t even offered. He’d simply picked her up and settled her on his back, to carry her home. Gracia was silent as they walked, and she could feel a hint of the old awkwardness slipping back between them. But it was different this time. Today had been nice. Nothing particularly special, just a pleasant day out at the park. Elysia had run amok, and she and Roy had lounged on a picnic blanket and talked and drank and later on they’d all gone for a walk around the pond. It had been nice. For all of them. And now that was between them.

“I’ll put her to bed,” Gracia offered, as she let Roy into the house. She took her daughter, who whimpered and made a noise of protest, and hauled her upstairs. She was distracted as she put her daughter to bed. She realized, with sudden and almost frightening clarity, that she didn’t want Roy to leave.

She didn’t know how it happened, exactly. Slowly, without her even realizing it. But he was always there, and he filled some of the emptiness that had been left when Maes died. Fretting, she pulled on a sweater and returned downstairs to find the radio turned to the news and a fire going in the fireplace. Roy was on the couch with a glass of wine.

“Comfortable?” she asked, and she couldn’t help but laugh. It all seemed so natural.

“Ah, I hope you don’t mind.” Roy stood immediately, always so quick to return to formality. “There wasn’t much wine left and I’d hate for it to go to waste. And it’s getting cold, so I thought…”

“It is getting cold,” Gracia agreed. She could already read the words behind what he spoke, and she decided she needed a drink as well. “Is there a glass for me?”

“Of course.”

Gracia sat on the couch as Roy poured the last of the wine into a glass for her. It was so natural, so normal. They were quiet as they listened to the news, the crackling of the fire the only other noise.

Cautiously, nervously, Gracia took a chance. She closed her eyes and shifted, leaning her head against Roy’s shoulder. She felt him tense. She held her breath.

“We can’t do this.”

“We already are.”

Silence returned, broken by the radio and the fire. Gracia didn’t move, and she supposed she should feel some sort of guilt, but she didn’t. And why should she? Would Maes have wanted her to waste away alone? To live out her life nothing but a grieving widow? No.

“Gracia…” Roy moved then, sitting forward and setting aside his glass.

“What? We can keep on ignoring this, but why?”

“Because!” He buried his face in his hands. “What would people think? What would Elysia think?”

“Elysia adores you. She already looks to you as a father figure, Roy…”

“What would my subordinates think?”

“That you’ve finally put the past to rest and moved on!” She almost bit her tongue, almost wished she could take back the words. But she pressed on, her hand coming to rest on Roy’s shoulder. “We can’t live in the past. Are we supposed to just stop? I’ve moved on, Roy. I miss Maes terribly still, and I always will, but my life didn’t stop. Neither did yours. And he wouldn’t want it that way.”

Roy was silent. He didn’t move or speak, simply remained hunched forward with his head in his hands. Gracia wrapped her arms around him, clinging to his warmth. She didn’t know what else to say. She was afraid she was going to lose him, that this would push him away. But she wasn’t going to allow her life to be led by grief.

He moved slowly. He turned in her arms and held her, gripping her tightly. When he did so, it was like a dam breaking. Gracia lowered her head and kissed him, her hands twisting in the fabric of his shirt. This was all that was missing. He had become, without realizing it, the man of the household. He had filled so many small niches, so many empty spaces. This was all that was left.

“Gracia…”

“Roy, if you pull away from me right now…” There was a tone of warning in Gracia’s voice. She was tired of this. It didn’t need to be painful, it didn’t need to be awkward. She kissed him again. It had been so long for her, so long without this. She could taste lingering traces of wine on his lips. He kissed her back hesitantly. The radio turned to static, the news broadcast over. Roy held her. His hands were flat against her back.

“What about Elysia?”

“She’s sound asleep,” Gracia promised. Elysia had never been a problem after she’d been put to bed, even when she was young. They continued to kiss, a strange mix of passion and caution, both wanting but holding back all the same. Gracia slipped out of her sweater. Roy kissed her neck, trembling against her. His hair was soft and thick, and she ran her fingers through it. His cheek against her shoulder was smooth. His hands came up to cup her breasts, gently. He handled her as though he were afraid she would break. How odd, that Roy Mustang, the playboy lady’s man of Central, was such a gentle lover. Or perhaps, she thought, he was only a gentle lover with her.

The radio static was starting to bother her. Gracia pulled away and moved to turn it off. Roy dropped back against the couch, flushed and breathing heavily. She watched him for a moment, her thoughts tumultuous and hectic. She almost wanted to feel guilty. But she couldn’t bring herself to. She had always known when the time was right, and the man was right, she’d find another partner. She’d never imagined it would be Roy, but in a way she felt it was fitting.

She straddled his lap when she returned to the couch. One strap of her sundress slid down her shoulder, and Roy kissed the place it had been. His hands rested on her hips. She could feel his arousal against her, and her heart fluttered just a bit. His lips kissed a slow but insistent path down her collarbone, to the small swells of her breasts above the collar of her dress. He pulled down the straps, fingers pausing as though he were unsure. As though he were arguing with himself. Gracia moved in his lap, rubbing against him, and he pulled down the top of her dress with no further hesitation. He kissed her breasts and his hair was soft against her skin. She slid her hands inside his shirt, running her palms over the smooth planes of his chest. He was so slim.

She didn’t know if it was simply that it had been so long, or if it was that she wanted Roy more than she’d admitted, but Gracia moved against him demandingly. Her hands moved down as he ran his tongue over one tightening nipple, her fingers fumbling with the buttons of his trousers. She could feel the heat of his hard erection through the fabric, and she found herself both daunted and wanting. She almost suggested they move to the bedroom, but she knew better. He wouldn’t make love to her in that bed, the bed she’d shared with Maes. Not now.

“Roy…” It was hard to talk. His mouth on her breasts was bringing her blood to a boil. He mumbled something, his hands gripping her hips tightly. She shifted back, to allow herself better access to his arousal.

“Roy!” She had his erection free now, her slim fingers wrapped around it cautiously.

“What?” He looked up, finally, face flushed and eyes dark. She supposed she should stop using her hand on him, when trying to talk.

“Do you have anything?”

He blinked at her for a moment, uncomprehending. And then the light dawned in his eyes and he nodded.

“In my pocket. Are you certain…?”

“Just hush.” She leaned forward to kiss him as she slid her hand into his pocket, fishing around until her fingers closed over the familiar shape of a small packet. She pulled it out, her other hand still stroking Roy’s erection. She wasn’t going to hear any arguments from him now. She tore open the small packet and slid the preventative over Roy’s arousal, slowly, unfurling it with careful attention. Roy’s eyes were closed. She kissed him once more as she moved forward, holding him to position him. His eyes fluttered open when she slid onto him, and he made some small noise against her kiss. And then he was inside of her, and they paused for a moment. Time held its breath. Gracia’s hands were against his chest. His hands still rested on her hips. She watched him close his eyes, and she swore she could see his lips moving in a silent apology.

Then he moved, rocking his hips and moving within her. Gracia closed her eyes, her head tipped back, meeting his thrusts. It was frantic and slow, a strange melding of need and want and delicacy.

When it was over, they remained locked together, Gracia curled tightly against Roy’s chest. Her heart was beating wildly and her legs were weak, and Roy’s arms were around her, holding her. They didn’t speak, but for once the silence was comfortable.

“Stay the night?” Gracia asked, quietly. Roy pressed his cheek to the top of her head and sighed. It felt so right.

“I shouldn’t.”

“We can stay in the guest room.” She wanted to wake up with him there. She wanted him to chase away those last few remaining shadows. She wanted him to be family in more than simply name.

“Alright.” He nodded, slowly. Gracia settled more comfortably against him.

“Good. And you can clean those gutters in the morning.” There was a light note to her voice. Roy made some sputtering noise of protest, but then he chuckled and hugged her tightly.

“You’re never going to let me leave, are you?”

Gracia smiled. “No.” She glanced up at him, expression warm and thoughtful. Where did he have to go, but an empty and lonely apartment? Why should he go back there, when there was a house and a family that wanted him. She Gracia reached up and brushed back a bit of his hair, damp now but still soft. “I think… we both need someone to come home to.”

Roy only nodded and rested his head against hers.