Her Force signature wavered as he zipped through Coruscant's streets. Roy Mustang was at a senate meeting when the words roared in his ears, along with the image of a blue saber humming through the air. Get out.
By the time he got to the Jedi Temple, nearly everyone was dead. Corpses littered the entryway. The air hung heavy with the stench of iron and charred flesh. Whoever launched the attack was long gone. From what he saw, the massacre was predetermined but not well thought-out. There were no patterns to the deaths. No symbolism to be garnered from the fallen bodies. No messages left behind. It was planned to be as efficient as possible.
Mustang prowled the wide carpeted hallways in the dark, footsteps light and blaster at hand. He kept his ears open for any signs of life. He finally found her in the section of the temple where younglings practiced with training sabers. The senator scanned the exits, making sure there were no clone troopers lurking in the shadows. When the coast was clear, Mustang rushed to her side and fell to his knees, breathless with worry.
"Master Hawkeye." He rolled her over. The deep wound on her neck glistened with blood, staining her Jedi robes and clotting her loose blond hair. Half-hidden by her cloak was a deeper gash near her abdomen. She'd pressed her hand there, perhaps to tap into the Force and heal what she could before passing out.
Mustang's mind raced as he clapped a hand over her neck, trying to staunch the blood. It gushed between his fingers, making a wet sound that turned his stomach. Not good. She might have lost too much already. Her pulse was weak.
He called her name again. Her eyes fluttered. Once warm brown, they were now black in the dusk.
"Idiot," she croaked. "I told you… to run…"
He hushed her, "Don't talk. I think I can-"
"I couldn't…" Hawkeye's voice cracked. "Couldn't protect them."
Mustang thought about the bodies strewn throughout the temple, the scar on her back, and her foolhardy padawan.
"No one can protect everyone."
All we can do, he thought. Is protect the ones we love.
It was time for Mustang to repay a debt.
"Hawkeye," The senator's heart pounded. "I think I can save you."
She'd taken a blaster bolt for him while serving as his bodyguard, shoving Mustang out of the way with a flick of her wrist during a summit hearing. The assassin later took their own life to evade capture. No doubt they'd been hired to kill Roy personally. Many people from his home world of Corellia wanted a shot at a senate position. Either that, or they vehemently disagreed with his politics. Enough to want him dead, apparently.
Once the smoke cleared, and attendees were tripping over themselves trying to escape, he found Hawkeye propped against an alcove. She'd grimaced, hand fumbling for her wound. Mustang guided her fingers to the middle of her back. Her tunic was singed and torn, the injury already inflamed.
All the senator could do was watch in awe as Hawkeye healed her wounds, a glow slipping between their entwined hands. Long ago, she offered to teach him about the Jedi, tried to make a Force bond. It seemed to have failed. But in that moment, feeling her draw on the universe to mend her broken body, they were connected. He felt her emotions, her pain, flowing through him. Something else stirred in Roy's mind. A revelation. The universe was more than the sum of its parts. It was alive, breathing, energy eternal. A power Roy could use to his advantage.
"You're too nervous, Senator. Won't work," Hawkeye said now, as Mustang pressed his free hand to her stomach. "Healing's… a light side technique. Fear, uncertainty, is… dark. Clouds judgement… with hesitation."
"You can preach to me as much as you want once I get this fixed. For now I'm going to have to ask you to lie still, Master Hawkeye."
"Balance yourself first."
Sweat broke out along his scalp. Blood pounded in his ears. Mustang closed his eyes and tried to find serenity in the chaos. Roy focused on his breathing, relaxed his muscles and let go of the notion he was pressed for time. He thought about their secret training sessions, only available through dreams. Taking him on as her apprentice wasn't technically against the rules. Some Jedi, in rare cases, could have more than one padawan. The Force bond, their night training, became a reprieve. Especially while their external worlds fissured around them. He tried to draw on those memories for strength.
"There is no emotion," he murmured. "Only peace."
We are one. We are all.
Something jolted inside him, behind his naval. The Light flooded in.
Fingertips tingling with an energy always there but rarely harnessed, Mustang felt her bleeding slow. Hawkeye's cells reacted to his touch. He bound fibrin to blood platelets, creating a nice clot. Taking note of her damaged veins and seared skin, Roy reconstructed them piece by piece.
I'm doing it. He thought. Mustang couldn't keep the smile from his face as he looked down at Hawkeye's wounds. They were already scabbing, new skin forming underneath. Perhaps she would be fine.
"Thank you Senator," she whispered. "For trying. But I think… it's too late. I want you… to protect… promise me… take my saber… and protect those… who cannot defend…"
Her face was ashen, eyes at half-mast. He felt her light dimming.
"No." The senator's heart skipped. "You will not die. I owe you one, remember? I'm going to heal you. I'm going to carry you to the nearest ship. And when you're all fixed up, we're going to find the bastards who did this. We'll fight the darkness, rebuild the Order. But I can't do that alone. I need you to help me. Alright?"
Her head twitched in what might have been a nod.
Mustang continued healing her wounds, using his emotions as a conduit. Determination, the senator found, gave him a rush of power. He didn't stop until Riza's breathing evened.
He eventually sat back, exhaled, and moved to heft her into his arms. He wasn't joking about getting her to the nearest ship. There would be bacta patches and a med bay. Hawkeye needed a real medic, not his shoddy attempt at healing. She was still in bad shape.
When he pulled her close, she whimpered.
"I know," he soothed. "It's alright. I've got you, min larel. You're gonna be fine."
Mustang felt a shift in the room, like a sudden drop in temperature. He glanced down at Hawkeye and saw her eyes glaze over. The skin beneath her wound darkened.
Roy cursed. He'd kept his attention on the larger blood vessels, the most damaged tissues. In his haste, Mustang neglected the smaller capillaries. And in his simmering anger, he no doubt burst a handful that would have been fine had he been more patient.
Hawkeye made a noise that chilled Roy to the bone. Her body twitched, spasmed as she choked on the blood filling her stomach. Some of it spurted from her mouth, landing on his sleeve.
"No." Mustang pressed his hands harder against her wounds, drawing on the Force. A tingling returned to his fingers. "No, no no. Come on, Hawkeye. Don't—"
She was right about him being too nervous. Instead of diverting the blood and healing the damaged veins, he ripped open her wounds. She bled worse than before. Mustang's fingers slipped in the crimson, glow fading from his palms.
"I had you," croaked Roy. "I was… I was healing you. You were…"
Her breathing slowed. So did her pulse. When the light left her eyes, Roy Mustang felt something inside him tear. Force bonds, she once mentioned, are connections that flow both ways. They bridge souls, grant a deeper knowledge of the galaxy. If that bridge is shattered by death, it carves a gash that might never fully heal.
My fault. He thought, holding her close and pressing his lips into her hair. In my arrogance, I expedited her death. If I'd just been more careful, she might still be alive.
The anger, the pain, blinded Mustang. He let the darkness fill him until he couldn't take it anymore. What did he have to lose? The Jedi were finished. The Chancellor was a black hole, sucking power from the Senate. Roy couldn't stop it. He couldn't save the Republic. He couldn't even save those he cared about.
What happened next only returned to the senator in flashes. He remembered a shadow descending, red tinging his vision. The room trembled. Everything around him rippled. Anything in close proximity—corpses, furniture, training droids—slammed into nearby walls. Pillars cracked at their bases, but held strong.
Then the sound of footsteps. Someone was fleeing.
One of them's still here. Mustang thought in his haze. I will tear the spine from their back. I'll rip through their memories to find those they love. I'll drive Hawkeye's saber through their stomach. I'll—
Mustang reached out through the Force. The person yelped, hit the floor, and skidded across the ground toward Mustang. He grabbed Hawkeye's saber, smashed the ignition switch.
When he brought the blade to their neck, a pair of golden eyes—silver in the blue light—met his own. Mustang stilled his hand. The boy was no older than ten or eleven, face tear-stained and grimy.
"Fullmetal," Roy breathed.
Mustang disengaged the saber and pulled Hawkeye's padawan into a bone-crushing hug. Edward Elric groaned, but it was a long while before Roy let go.
He looked the boy over, inspecting him for injuries. Barely a scratch. How the kriff did the kid survive?
"Fullmetal, what…? How are you…?"
But the boy wasn't looking at Mustang. He was looking at the woman lying in the senator's lap.
"She's dead," said Ed. "She died protecting us. Protecting me."
"Yeah," Mustang alighted his gaze on Hawkeye's saber, not trusting himself to say anything else as he willed the tears away.
Protect those who cannot protect themselves.
"Master Hawkeye cut our bond," said Ed. "So they wouldn't sense me. Pretty smart of her, huh?"
Roy cleared his throat as he attached the laser sword to his belt. "She always was quick on her feet."
"Not quick enough."
Mustang bristled, but Ed's words held no resentment. He was simply stating the facts.
"Come on, then." Mustang tugged the boy to his feet. "We need to get to a ship."
"Where are we going?"
No kriffing idea. Roy thought.
"Somewhere safe," he said.
Ed nodded. The youngling's hand tightened around Roy's. Before they left, the boy spared a last glance at Hawkeye's corpse.
I'll watch over him. Mustang vowed. For you. I'll train him myself, raise him right. I'll see where the Jedi Council went wrong. And rectify their mistakes.
Roy put a hand on Ed's shoulder, steering him away from the carnage. "Do you know any ships that won't go unnoticed?"
"Sure as hell do." The boy flashed an impish grin. "Come on, Senator. There's someone I want you to meet."
Edward Elric bolted ahead. All Roy Mustang could do was follow and cast out his senses again, hoping he could protect the boy from any shadows lingering in the dark.