A/N: This is based on a post I made on Tumblr a few months ago about a modern firefighter AU. I just finished and posted it there and figured that I'd post it here as well. I think I'll be making this a two-shot in the future. But for now enjoy!

After giving the watch on his wrist another glance to confirm that he was still late, Roy Mustang hurriedly pushed open the door to the restaurant and stepped inside. Taking a deep breath, his taste buds tingled with the fresh tasting sensation of soot and smoke. Damn, he thought he had cleaned up well enough in the showers, but it seemed that he still couldn't escape his previous assignment; because when duty called, he had to answer.

Narrowing his eyes to see better in the dimly lit restaurant, he looked around to try and find—

There.

"Hey," he called as he jogged over to the couple standing just past the hostess stand.

"Yo," Jean Havoc greeted him as he raised his closed hand and bumped fists with Roy, "Got your text, but you didn't miss much. They said the table will be ready in about ten minutes or so." When the dark-haired woman beside him cleared her throat, he jumped slightly and laughed. "And before I forget, this is my girlfriend, Rebecca."

Smiling toward her, Roy extended his hand and said, "It's a pleasure. I'm Roy."

When she took his hand she wrinkled her nose and murmured, "Nice to meet you too, Roy."

Catching on, he withdrew his hand and said, "Sorry about that. I had to work overtime and didn't have time to scrub off the smell of smoke."

"Oh," she asked as she raised a brow with suspicion. Her eyes darted over to Havoc, she said, "I didn't realize you were a human ashtray like Jean."

"Me? Oh, no I'm not. In fact, I've been trying to get Jean to kick the habit since I met him," he said as he shot his friend a look. "Actually," he continued as he turned back to her, "I just got off fire duty. We had a last minute call and I had to run out with the brigade—"

"Wait! You didn't tell me he was a firefighter," Rebecca chided as she turned to Jean and she gestured to Roy. "You know about her aversion to fire."

"I'm sorry, Becks," Jean apologized as he rubbed the back of his neck, his eyes wild with confusion, "I didn't know that it would pertain to people as well."

Blatantly confused, Roy began to say, "I'm sorry, but is something wro-"

"It's nothing against you," she began before correcting herself as she turned toward him, "Well, okay, it is, but not against you personally-"

Before she could go on with her tirade, he heard a soft voice speak the dark-haired woman's name. Turning toward it, he saw a blonde-haired woman approaching them, adorned with a deep purple, high-collared dress and long matching gloves and shawl. Stopping beside Rebecca and placing a hand on her arm to announce her presence, the blonde-woman's dark brown eyes flickered over to Roy for a second before they went back to her friend. "Sorry I'm late," she apologized. "The traffic driving over the bridge was a nightmare tonight."

"That's fine sweetie," Rebecca replied as she waved off her friend's tardiness. "You didn't miss too much."

"I'm glad," her friend said with a smile as she next focused on Jean, giving him a friendly nod. Then, once again turning her focus to Roy, she removed her hand from her Rebecca's shoulder and extended it toward him.

As he reached forward to take her hand in his and shake it, she broke the ice first by saying, "It's nice to meet you; I'm Riza Hawkeye."

"Hawkeye?"

"Yeah," Heymans Breda called over the sound of the fire engine's sirens as they flew around a tight corner and began to race down a dirt road. "You know him?"

"I guess you could say that," Roy answered loudly as he saw a dim glow come into sight in the distance. "He was my General Chem professor back when I took my prerequisite courses at the university; even did some research in his lab. Eccentric and a bit different, but he was the smartest man I ever knew."

Smartest and messiest, he added to himself. He had heard once that the amount of clutter accumulated in one's residence was correlated to intelligence. If that was the case, then the piles of papers and textbooks in the man's old office were enough to convince Roy that the man was among the most intelligent minds on the planet.

And if the man's home was anything like his office back at the university, then the reason for the rapid spread of the blaze was obvious.

"The latest census says that two people live there, so we gotta keep an eye out for both of 'em," Breda called as he held up two fingers.

"I vaguely remember him mentioning a daughter once. It think her name was 'Riza' or something along those lines," Roy noted as a bright light suddenly pulled his attention away from his friend and toward its source. As the engine came to a stop, he hurriedly unbuckled his seatbelt and opened the door, leaping out of the vehicle to witness the massive blaze before them.

The home was completely engulfed in fire; the flames spilling from the windows and doors angrily licking at the air as they escaped. Despite being a reasonable distance from the blaze, he was already beginning to feel the heat. This had to be the one of the hottest blazes he had encountered in his short time on the squad. And judging by the heat, it was beginning to look like it would be a recovery…

But just as he was about to receive his orders from their chief, he paused. He could have sworn that he just heard—

There it was again. This time he was certain. He had heard a voice.

Without another moment's hesitation he pulled his gas mask down over his nose and mouth and took off toward the front door. Using his shoulder, he slammed into it and threw it open, only to be met by a room consumed by flames. Now he understood how and why the fire had spread so quickly. He knew that Professor Hawkeye's office was cluttered and unorganized, and believed that it had transcended to his home… but this… This was on a completely different scale.

Burning debris was everywhere, thousands upon thousands of papers and books piled to the ceiling and scattered about, all of them completely engulfed in flames. If he were to press on, he would have to be certain that he had heard a voice, because with the intensity of the heat and the amount of smoke billowing around it would be next to impossible to comb the entire home before it collapsed on itself.

"Hello," he yelled as he took a step forward and toward the littered living room. "Is anyone there?" Roy paused for a moment and strained to listen over the roar of the flames and the moans of the increasingly stressed house.

Just as he was about to turn back and scan the room behind him, he heard a small and weak, "Help…"

Snapping his head around toward the sound, he began to quickly trudge through the scattered debris, kicking the burning research papers and books out of his way as he went. When he had made it halfway across the living room, his foot caught on something and he stumbled. When he whirled around to see what he had stumbled over, he felt his heart jump and catch in his throat.

Lying half-hidden and motionlessly beneath the smoldering papers was a young woman, her torso twisted around so that she was face up; eyes closed and her mouth hanging open as she gasped for air.

Collapsing onto his knees and reaching beneath her with one hand so that he could lift her, Roy removed his face mask and yelled, "Miss, are you—" The moment his gloved hand touched her, her eyes flew open and she cried out, writhing and squirming in an attempt to get away from him. This action, however, appeared to harm her rather than help her as she yelped again.

But when she saw who he was, she immediately stopped, staring up at him through half-lidded eyes. Licking her lips, she reached up and grasped his sleeve, then tried to mouth something to him before erupting into a fit of coughing.

"I'm going to get you out of here, okay," he yelled over the roar of the flames through her her violent coughs and gags. "Just stay with me—"

"Roy!"

Jolting upright, he snapped his head around to see Breda standing on the edge of the living room, motioning wildly toward him.

When his colleague saw that he had gained his attention, he yelled, "Roy, the house is about to come down. You need to get out of here!"

"Alright," he called as he turned back to the young woman. "I'm sorry I have to do this, but we need to get out of here now." Trying his best to be as gentle as possible, he slipped his hands beneath her and hoisted her up and into his arms, eliciting a sharp gasp from her. As he apologized once more, he turned around to follow after Breda, who had reached the front entrance by that point, when a loud and familiar groan caught his attention. Stopping in his tracks, he looked up to see that the ceiling had begun to bow and crumble as it lost its integrity.

Jumping backwards and whirling around on his heels, Roy ducked out of the room and into the burning kitchen as everything that had resided on the second floor collapsed onto the first.

Knowing what would immediately follow, Roy desperately looked back and forth through the billowing smoke and flames, trying to locate an alternate exit…

There.

Seeing a sliding glass door on the opposite side of the room, Roy grasped the young woman tighter to himself as he began to charge toward it, blocking out the sounds of the roof moaning and groaning as it too began to give from the amount of stress. A moment before he reached the door, he dipped his shoulder and then slammed into it, the glass shattering upon impact.

When his boot met a patch of dirt, he pulled her close to himself and stumbled away from the burning home, forcing himself to his knees a few hundred feet away. Immediately laying her down on the grass, he yanked his mask off of his face and shrugged his oxygen tank off of his back.

"Now breathe," he begged her as he slipped his oxygen mask over her nose and mouth. When she complied and began to suck in all the air she could muster, he allowed himself to let go a sigh of relief. "Just keep breathing, alright Riza…"

In between gasps, she managed to mouth something to him. Leaning over, he heard her whisper, "… my name…"

Understanding her question, he admitted, "I was a student of your father's years ago. He mentioned your name once or twice and I guess it kind of stuck in my mind."

Taking in another sharp gasp of air, she twitched her head in an attempt to nod and whispered, "Thank… sir."

"Roy… Roy Mustang," he offered as he shrugged off his jacket and began to lay it over her.

"…Like… the horse…?"

"That's right," he replied. "But enough questions for now, let's focus on our breathing while—" A sharp breath from the young woman cut him off as she writhed beneath the jacket he had just laid over top her. Panicking, he lifted the jacket off of her at the same moment the house chose to come down, sending flames and embers into the night air, and illuminating both of them.

That's when he noticed the burns and their extent. It had been difficult to assess in the burning home since his number one priority had been getting her out. He had seen the redness, seen the cracked tissue, but hadn't realized the magnitude of the damage done to her skin.

This was more than just a quick fix with oxygen and some ointments. No… This would quickly turn into a medical emergency.

"Over there!"

Jerking his head up, he saw two emergency specialists sprinting toward them. Waving and motioning for them to turn back, he yelled, "Get the gurney! We need to move this woman, now!"

When they had turned back he felt a tug on his pants. Looking down at her, he saw that she had begun to try and say something again; though this time her words were lost, her head lolling back and forth as she tried to keep herself awake.

"Just hang on," he quietly ordered as he readjusted the oxygen mask on her face, "Stay with me…"

Realizing that he had been lost deep in thought regarding the memory, he shook his head slightly in an attempt to rid himself of it and tightening his grip on her hand.

He should have realized it before, probably would have realized it had he not been utterly stunned by her beauty, especially now that he was aware of the uneven roughness of her hand; the skin unusually calloused for someone as young as she was. And now, as he eyed her and took in her appearance, he began to realize that she skin on her neck and even her cheeks looked patchy and colored in a variety of hues beneath the foundation she was wearing.

All classic signs of someone that had survived being burned…

"And you are…?"

Pulled from his thoughts once again, he realized a second time that he had dove headfirst into his mind again. "Sorry about that," he apologized as he smiled warmly, "My name's Roy… Uh, Roy Mustang."

He felt her grip on his hand loosen as her eyes widened at the announcement of his full name. But instead of letting go completely, she maintained a feeble grasp on him, her eyes seemed to light up with recognition as she asked, "Mustang… Like the horse?"