Disclaimer: I do not own FMA or any of the characters.
"Starting tomorrow, First Lieutenant Riza Hawkeye will be stationed at Central Headquarters as a Personal Assistant to the Fuhrer."
The shock of reading- hearing- those words had momentarily stunned them beyond words.
How could they? She was the Colonel's aide. She had promised. He had promised. But that was exactly it- that was how, that was why. Because they knew. Unfair that they knew where to stick the knife and twist to make it the most painful.
It was only then that they noticed.
Noticed that the new position was odious not because the work was any different, or went slower, but that the people she had to work for were...not the same. Noticed that the office was empty in a way that was not merely explained by the absence of the former occupants.
It was strange, getting used to the absence of the other.
Following a different back, one she had not sworn to protect, out of duty rather than dedication. Walking outside and missing his armed shadow, feeling distinctly alone.
It had surprised both of them when they'd found themselves facing each other in the hallway. She, first to recover, snapped to attention and her hand to a salute no less precise, but so slightly smoother- relaxed- practiced- than the ones she gave her superiors now. There was only one thing to say, in the smoothest, most calm of voices.
"Colonel."
He, the ranking officer, could afford to be lazier, could afford to take that extra half a second to look at her. Take in the marks of stress in her face, in the stiffness of her shoulders, knowing she'd deny it if he challenged her on it. And replied the same way he always had, his offhand manner belying the anxiety of the situation.
"Lieutenant."
It was all they could say. But it was enough. The unspoken thought of perhaps, when this was over, they would be able to drop their guard, speak freely. It was what she had said, when she'd come back.
We will meet again.
But not like this; this didn't count, this wasn't what she'd meant. One day. This would be over, and then- they couldn't plan that far ahead. Couldn't plan further than the next step to take, where to place one's feet to stay alive and further his- their- goal.
She dropped the salute, indicating the packet of papers held under her arm with a twist of her wrist, and walked on.
He stuffed his hands in his pockets, strolling slowly down the hallway once more. He'd caught the silent apology that had flickered across her face.
She would continue placing herself in danger to protect him.
He would figure out a way out of this, and make certain she would never be placed in so much danger again.