You Don't Know Him Like I Do

By Prettywitchiusaka

"Why do you stay with Colonel Mustang?"

I've been asked that same question so many times over the years, I almost expect someone to bring it up in conversation, be they friend or colleague.

They all have their reasons.

"He's a jerk."

"He's a cold hearted snake."

"He only cares about being promoted and courting as many women as he can wrap around his little finger."

There's definitely truth to those statements, I won't deny that. Though that last one is greatly exaggerated, thankfully.

But what's funny, and what they'd probably find hard to believe, is that even Mustang himself wonders why I've remained at his side for so long?

I can't count the number of times we've gone drinking, only for the Colonel, after his second or third glass of scotch kicks in, to turn and say;

"Why do you put up with me, Hawkeye? You could've easily moved up the ranks by now, instead you're just stuck babysitting some dumbass in over his head."

And I would roll my eyes and carry on.

Why must he act like he was holding me back?

I suppose you could view it that way. My skills as a sniper were unmatched, and I'd proven time and again I could lead a platoon.

But he makes it sound like I'm some disgruntled employee upset I wasn't already a Captain or Lieutenant Colonel by now.

He seems to have forgetten that if it wasn't for him, I would've quit this job a long time ago.

The decision to protect and guide Colonel Mustang was one I made on my own, and a role I will continue playing until the day he accomplishes his goal.

But even then…I don't know if I would leave his side should that day ever come.

Because while I admire him as a soldier and a leader, my loyalty to Colonel Mustang stems from one irrefutable fact; he's my friend. My oldest one, and the one nearest and dearest to my heart.

He had always been a stubborn, arrogant fool when I first knew him. Too prideful to admit when he needed help, so confident in his abilities he believed himself better than everyone else.

But as we became friends, he opened up to me and soon, I began to see a side of Roy Mustang that very few have and will ever see.

I saw how sweet and thoughtful he is when he made me a bouquet of Hyacinths for my birthday using alchemy. How sincere and empathetic he could be when he comforted me in the

wake of my mother's passing. But also how sophisticated he really was.

Whenever the topic would turn to politics or literature he became engrossed, displaying how well read and observant he was.

He was also quite intelligent as well…and he wasn't shy about flaunting it, either. I swear, I was about two steps from strangling him when he beat me at chess for the 13th time.

But then Ishbal came and went; after that, he was never the same.

He became cold, cynical, suspicious of anyone and everyone, even his loved ones. He worked tirelessly to climb up the ranks of the military, so that one day he could change this country from the inside.

He probably didn't deserve to take such action, what with all the blood on his hands. But if it would give him the peace of mind he so desperately yearned for, he'd take it.

Anything to seek redemption.

Even if he had to plunge his hands into the filth to do it.

But despite the walls he's put up around himself, there are still times where he allows that heart of his to shine through in his actions.

I know because I've seen it.

I've seen it in the moments where he becomes introspective, reflecting on his actions and how he can strive to do better, to be better.

I've seen it whenever I quietly observe him in the midst of conflict, contemplating what he should tell The State and what he should keep to himself.

I've seen it whenever he worries for the Elrics like they were his own flesh and blood. Even when he lets himself smile or joke about with our teammates or his friend, Hughes.

I may be biased, but in those moments I can't help but see the same caring man I first knew when I was eighteen. The same man that I…well, the less said about that, the better.

So yes, I stay with Colonel Mustang to protect and guide him as his friend.

But to be honest, there are times where even the Colonel surprises me.

A few months ago, we were providing foreign aide to a poor Eastern jungle town called Zambia. Their leader, a man named Zarman, was infamously known for attacking nearby platoons and taking their weaponry for his own. He'd done it by turning his men into a small militia operation of sorts, meant to keep Zambia safe from military ex[ansion and ensure its sovereignty.

At least that's what Zarman claimed, anyway.

Based on reports from any returning soldiers that encountered Zarman, he was said to be quite ruthless. He would embarrass soldiers by making them fight each other if they asked to be let go, forcing them to perform sick mind games like Russian roulette or decimation.

Whatever he could think of.

The Colonel wasn't taking any chances either way, so we doubled the ammunition and brought along the rest of our staff. We were going to need all the help we could get carrying the emergency rations they'd asked for anyway, a few extra hands couldn't hurt we reasoned.

We left at sunrise and began our trek into the dessert at around nine or so in the morning. Things went smoothly, but it was scorching outside, and we were exhausted by the time sunset came. My colleague, Lieutenant Havoc mentioned several times how he felt like we were being watched, but by then we were all too tired to care.

Turns out he was right.

We set up camp beside a small oasis, knowing that Zambia was only half a day away from where we were staying.

And that's when it happened.

Once most of the camp was fast asleep, Zarman's men ambushed us. The Colonel and I did our best to get the men up and fend off the attackers, but somewhere in all the commotion, I was knocked out and taken prisoner.

When I woke up, I was bound by my hands and feet and stuck in a little tent until Zarman came. He explained to me that I was his prisoner, and that we'd me meeting Colonel Mustang at a specific meeting spot the following morning so he could rescue me.

I was angry and voiced it, but made sure to keep my emotions in check. One wrong move and it would've spelt disaster for me. So I closed my eyes and slept for what was left of the night.

Finally, morning came. I was put in a small, military vehicle (no doubt stolen judging by the licence plate number) with a wagon attached to the back. Zarman got in the wagon with me while his four men piled into the truck.

After what must have been the longest hour of my life, we were only five minutes away from where we were to meet up with the Colonel. Five minutes away from freedom.

Now if only my stomach would shut up!

It was honestly embarrassing how much it kept grumbling for food, but I could hold out until we reached the ronde vu point…

At least that's what I kept telling myself, anyway.

"I wouldn't fret, Miss Lieutenant," said Zarman. "We'll be at the ronde vu point soon enough."

I looked over to my captor and stared daggers into him.

He was tanning in the sun, its light reflecting off his dark skin and bald head. Relaxing like he hadn't just abducted a woman for his own bizarre reasons.

"Yes, I know."

A moment went by.

He held out a plate to me with two pieces of food on it. One a shiny red apple. The other was a small, breaded pocket consisting of vegetables, some wild game and a spice called curry. He called it a Curry Pouch.

"Try some," he said.

I stared at him coldly.

"I'm good."

He sighed and placed the food next to him.

"You disappoint me, Miss Riza," he said. "Zambian food is quite tasty when it's prepared right."

"I'm already your prisoner, do you really think I'd accept your hospitality?"

He thought it over for a bit, then smiled.

"Fair enough."

We both sat in relative silence for quite some time after.

Eventually, I looked over at Zarman, wanting to ask him something that had been on my

mind for quite some time now.

"There's still one thing I don't understand," I said. "Why kidnap me? You already accepted our help and we've done nothing to you. You have nothing to gain from this at all."

Zarman shrugged.

"That's true," he replied. "But once I heard the Flame Alchemist himself was coming to oversee this operation personally, I decided I must see him in action for myself."

So we were being spied on! Looks like I owe Jean an apology.

"What I saw from him was typical," he continued. "But I couldn't help noticing how he behaved around you."

I raised my eyebrow.

"I'm sorry?"

Zarman rolled his head back to look at me.

"Oh, so I guess you haven't noticed it, either," he said, smirking. "With the other soldiers, he was cold and stiff, just giving orders and barking at others to get things done. But whenever you were around, his attitude would soften. I noticed there was love in his eyes whenever he'd smile at you, almost as if he looked forward to your little chats."

My mouth dropped and I felt my heart plunge right into my stomach when he said that. If he'd been spying on Roy the whole time we've been out here, it means he most likely witnessed our conversation before they'd attacked us…and the kiss we almost shared.

There was only one conclusion one could come to after seeing that.

"It made me realize something. Colonel Mustang is well known around these parts as a

monster, a ruthless soldier who can slaughter an entire city in a single night he wished," he said, referring to the Colonel's reputation as the "Hero" of Ishbal. "But with you he acts like a completely different person."

He took a bite of the apple he tried giving me earlier, as if he were using it to punctuate a point.

"I think it's safe to say that the Colonel has a soft spot for you."

As soon as he said that I gasped.

He wasn't interested in making me subservient to him or anything like that. No… He wanted to watch Colonel Mustang squirm.

He was a tiny man who'd fought to keep his region safe. Understandable given the military's might, and the fact that what remained of Ishbal was only fifteen miles away from Zambia. But in doing so, he'd become so egotistical he thought he could make anyone grovel, even the all powerful military at his feet.

And the idea of even one of the Furhur's vicious attack dogs begging, bargaining, even pleading on their hands and knees to get back a subordinate at the cost of their dignity? It was too good for him to pass up.

Even if it meant he was inconveniencing his own people to do so.

I'll admit, I was angry at first. Angry that he would be so callous as to try and make Mustang suffer like that…until I remembered who Zarman was dealing with.

"I think you underestimate him," I said.

Zarman gave me a snort in return.

"I doubt that," he said. "I've seen plenty of you military lap dogs in my time, you're all the same. You'll do anything and everything to achieve your goals. This Colonel Mustang of yours is no different."

"You don't know him like I do."

He cupped my face in his hand and stared into my eyes, trying to intimidate me. But I held my ground against him.

"I have his precious woman in my clutches," he said. "Surely he'll do anything to get you back."

I couldn't help smirking.

"That's exactly what I mean; you've just pissed him off."

"Oh? How so?"

"Like you said, you took his precious subordinate. That's reason enough."

Zarman paused for a moment to contemplate my words. He laughed.

"You're as perceptive as you are beautiful, my dear," he said, releasing my face from his grasp. "But you have much to learn about the minds of men."

We arrived at the ronde vu point a few minutes later.

The military trucks came to and so did we. Mustang got out of the car and the rest of the platoon followed, while Zarman and his men remained in the stolen military vehicle. They were all armed with rifles at the ready in the event that something might happen.

Mustang wasn't kidding around, either. His military coat wasn't placed on his shoulders, nor were his hands tucked away in his pockets. Rather, he wore his coat on his masculine frame, his gloved hands at his sides. Even from my seat in the truck, I could see the alchemic array that'd been lovingly stitched into them.

His eyes were cold and focused, and his face showed no emotion as he calmly walked towards the truck. Zarman himself jumped out of the wagon and marched towards the Colonel with pride.

"Ah, you must be Mr. Mustang," he said, stopping in front of him. "I'm so pleased to finally meet you."

"Likewise," said Roy.

He held his hand out to the Colonel, hoping to shake hands with him.

He didn't.

"I see…," said Zarman.

He placed his hand at his side and flashed Mustang a smile. "I see you have brought our supplies, thank you. Come, I'll show you where you can drop them off and you can be on your way-"

"Not yet!" Mustang growled. "Before I give you your supplies, I want you to return my subordinate."

"Subordinate?" said Zarman, placing his finger on his chin, like he didn't know what the Colonel was talking about. "Oh yes, that woman that was with you. We'll take care of that now."

He clapped his hands.

Next thing I knew, one of Zarman's lackies had grabbed me by my arm and helped me out of the truck and onto the ground. He pointed a gun to my back and I walked towards Zarman

with my head held high, doing whatever I could to maintain my dignity. Which given the circumstances, was very little.

Once I was standing beside Zarman I locked eyes with Mustang briefly, nodding my head to assure him I was okay.

"You see, Mr. Mustang," said Zarman. "My men haven't hurt her in the slightest."

I watched the Colonel turn his attention away from me and over to Zarman. Without missing a beat, he said "Of course they haven't; it's not exactly smart to waste your hostage."

"That's what I said," I mumbled under my breath, unable to keep myself from smiling.

I knew Mustang would see through Zarman's ruse; it didn't make much sense to take someone captive when they were already accommodating you.

Now the situation could go one of two ways; either Mustang will take me back by force, or he'll pretend to go along with Zarman's demands and send in a small rescue operation to get me out of the village later tonight.

Though knowing him, he would probably go with the latter option rather than the former. If he demanded me back there was bigger risk of a fire fight breaking out.

The last thing Colonel Mustang wanted was casualties on either side if he could avoid it. So Operation Late Night Rescue was most likely a go.

Of course, Zarman didn't know any of this. He just stood there, staring into the distance like a deer in headlights.

He chuckled nervously.

"Oh, Mr. Mustang. What would make you think that?"

"You kidnapped my Lieutenant and told me to come here if I ever wanted to see her again. It's pretty obvious you want something extra with your provisions."

I saw Zarman flinch for a second, but only a second. He bounced back pretty quickly, giving Colonel Mustang a disingenuous smile.

"All in good time," he said. "Now then, shall we make the trade?"

Mustang sighed and rubbed the bridge between his nose.

That was when I first took notice of how bloodshot his eyes were. He must've been up all night worrying about me, knowing him.

He looked up at Zarman and asked "Very well, what else do you want from us? I assume our ammunition."

"No, nothing like that. You see, I want your Lieutenant."

Mustang raised his eyebrow, perturbed.

"May I ask why?"

"Well you see, we heard that the military's lap dogs were on their way to deliver our supplies yesterday," Zarman explained. "We wanted to make sure you were going to come, so my men and I decided to spy on you."

"And what does the have to do with my Lieutenant?"

"Well while my men were attacking your camp the other night, I saw what prowess this woman has with a gun…I had never seen anything like it."

I rolled my eyes.

He kept going on all last night about my skill with a gun, how flawless and effortless I made it seem. If he brings it up just one more time, I swear I might snap and put a bullet through

his head, just to shut him up!

The way he was acting, you'd almost suspect he'd never seen a woman in combat, let alone shoot a gun. Which, let's be honest, he probably hasn't.

But even so.

"Is that so?" I heard Roy say.

I turned my gaze to him, watching as his attention hung on Zarman's every last word.

"Yes, from that moment, I knew I must have her."

"What?" I thought to myself.

Funny enough, Roy's reaction was the same as mine.

"What?"

"I want your Lieutenant to become my wife."

My blood boiled.

"Hold on a second! You can't just decide my future like that-"

"Silence!"

Zarman turned and slapped me across the face. Next thing I knew, I was on the ground and wincing while my cheek singed from the pain.

"Damnit!" I cursed.

I should've known that something like this would happen. If he was going to prove he was in control of this situation, he'd have to mention something that would anger me. Especially if he wanted to get to Roy-

Oh God! Roy!

I stole a quick glance at Roy, no longer concerned for my Superior, but for my friend. I gasped.

Already I could see him contorting in anger. His hands were balled into fists, his teeth were grit, even his brow was clenched in anger, like he'd burst and snap his fingers at any given second.

I had to do something and fast, or else he may end up doing something he'll regret later.

"Colonel!"

Thankfully, that got his attention.

I bore my gaze into his, trying to communicate to him -albeit silently- that he must keep his cool. If he acted on his emotions it would only escalate the situation not help it.

He seemed to understand my signal, because by the time I was back on my feet he returned to his stoic, immoveable composure.

"I see," he said, pausing for a moment to collect himself. "So that's all you want, is it?"

"But of course. Surely you understand my plight, Mr. Mustang?"

"Some of it I do understand, she's a very skilled marksman. She's also very physically attractive, as well."

I couldn't help but blush a bit at that, even if I knew the Colonel was only stating the obvious.

"But as I recall," he said, grinning. "You already have a wife, yourself, Zarman."

He said it with such confidence in his voice, I think he believed he just put Zarman in check mate. But…

"Had a wife," Zarman replied. "She passed away, recently. And even if she hadn't, what does it matter? People like her are easily discardable."

Roy frowned. Though I could've sworn he tensed up a bit hearing that.

"You're assuming a lot of me, don't you think? What makes you think I'll just go along with this absurd proposal of yours?"

"Oh, I have my ways," Zarman said, smirking. "I could always ruin your reputation."

Roy smirked.

"You can try, but I doubt it would be easy. My military record is pretty clean."

"Is it now? You are the Flame Alchemist, are you not? The supposed "Hero" of Ishbal, yes?"

Roy glared at him, hanging on his every word once again.

"Why if I wanted to, I could simply refuse your rations."

"You'd be at a disadvantage, though. Your people need those supplies to live."

Zarman shrugged.

"True. But words spreads fast, Mr. Mustang. If I were to complain to your Furhur directly, I guarantee you I will make it so that your career will be tarnished."

"But it would be my word against yours."

"Yes. But I can always find ways to make you look responsible. You wouldn't want that now, would you?"

As I watched this all play out, I couldn't help wondering what Zarman was even thinking in bringing this up?

Roy being sent to East City was an exile of sorts from the higher ups in Central, annoyed with him for even daring to compete with the proverbial big boys. They wouldn't care one way or the other about what Roy did out here, and the only way they would give a damn is if it affected them directly and, well let's face it, Zarman wasn't exactly big enough for them to take seriously.

Roy didn't say anything though. Rather, he remained silent and kept to himself, a common tactic he used to make his enemies feel like they'd gained some power over the Flame Alchemist.

And Zarman seemed to be buying into it if the smirk on his face was any indication.

I sighed; late night rescue it is. I'd rather just get it over with, but if I must spend a few more hours with this man, than so be it.

"That's what I thought," he said, pausing a for a moment. "Now then, if you give me our rations, my men and my new wife will be our way-"

"I'm sorry, but I can't agree to that."

I think Zarman and I must have done a double take at the same time.

"What did you say?" he asked.

"You heard me," Roy replied, standing tall against this little man, boring that intense gaze of his into him. "I'm refusing your offer."

"You mean you'd forsake my people for this woman? That's awfully cold of you-"

"You didn't let me finish. I didn't come here to trade my subordinate, I came here to do a

job and that's what I'm going to do."

I gasped.

Zarman meanwhile was grinding his teeth, no doubt irritated Roy wasn't acting the way he wanted him to.

"Rubbish!" he said. "You military dogs are all the same; you'll gladly trade one life if it means getting what you want!"

"I prefer to see it the other way around. Lieutenant Hawkeye has been of invaluable help to me. She's a fine soldier and a great friend, and I am grateful to have her at my side."

And just like that, I my heart melted into a fine liquid substance, while any sense and logic I had went out the window.

Part of me wanted to throttle him for what he was doing. "You moron!" I couldn't help thinking. He was being reckless again, letting his emotions getting the better of him.

And yet I couldn't help smiling as I stared at him with a dreamy expression.

He could've easily gone ahead with the plan, could've pretended he didn't care. Instead, he chose to stand his ground against this man, because he couldn't hide behind his facade of indifference while I suffered any longer.

"Oh Roy…", I thought to myself.

It was times these I was happy to know I'd picked the right man to follow into hell and back.

"No!"

I snapped out of my blissful state to meet Zarman's angry gaze. I was made aware of the tension radiating through the air immediately and froze, because I realized my reaction had just tipped the balance.

"No, I will not stand for this!"

Suddenly, Zarman's men grabbed my shoulder and forced me to my knees. Zarman pulled out a hand gun he'd been carrying in his back pocket…and aimed it at my head.

"Either you give me your woman, OR ELSE!"

I don't remember much after that, it all happened so fast anything but the fear I felt take over my body was a blur to me. In my current state all I could do was close my eyes and wait for the end. So I did.

But then…

SNAP!

The next thing I heard was Zarman screaming in pain while his gun dropped to the ground. I opened my eyes and, sure enough, watched him collapse to his knees and hold his burnt hand close to his chest.

I turned my attention to Roy; he was just standing there, his fingers still poised to snap, probably as a safety precaution in case someone tried something else on him.

But somehow, I got the sensation that wasn't the only reason. His other hand was clenched into a fist and shaking violently. It was then that I realized he was doing all he could to keep himself sane, no doubt trying to restrain the fury I could see reflected in his gaze.

Not long after he closed his eyes and took a deep breath, his posture relaxed and his hand unclenched, returning to his side where it should be.

When he opened his eyes again, they no longer carried that rage I'd seen a minute ago. Instead they were calm and focused, an indicator that he was in control once more. Though I could still see the fury he was holding back as he walked over to Zarman's men.

"I'd quit whining if I were you, Zarman," he said, stopping in front of Zarman, himself. "You should consider yourself lucky; you'll find your nerve endings are still intact…once your skin heals, anyways."

I watched Zarman squirm in front of Roy, no doubt regretting he'd ever tried to pick a fight with the Flame Alchemist.

And yet I couldn't smile at his misfortune, I just pitied him.

He looked over at the rest of Zarman's men.

"Now then, gentlemen, I believe we have a trade to make. You wouldn't want your people starving now, would you?"

They all raised their hands in surrender.

"No, we're good."

"That's what I thought."

That's when Roy locked eyes with me.

Before I could even say anything, he raised his hand and snapped his fingers. Next thing I knew, the ropes binding my wrists were burnt to a crisp.

"Let's go, Lieutenant."

I got back on my feet and saluted to him.

"Yes, Sir."

The rest of the trip went smoothly; we delivered the supplies to Zambia and left, but not without some homemade treats, courtesy of some of the women in Zambia.

And yes, I did try a curry pocket this time. And it was delicious.

In fact, I was actually eating one on our way back to East City. There wasn't enough room for me and Roy to sit in one of the military cars so we sat in the back of the now empty supply cart.

"So how's it taste?"

"It's not bad," I said, smirking. "I don't know what Zarman's so paranoid about; if he wanted, he could just open a restaurant and he'd be set for the rest of his life-"

"I suppose."

I frowned, annoyed with his behaviour.

I don't know why he was trying to keep himself angry; we completed our mission and he stopped a crisis situation before it could escalate.

But then again…

"You know, you surprised me today, Colonel."

"Oh?"

"I thought for sure you'd wait to come save me later tonight when the supplies had been delivered."

"That was the plan…" He paused. "But the moment he started treating you like that, I…I couldn't wait another second."

I was actually surprised to hear him say that…and yet happy all the same.

Even though I shouldn't be.

There was that heart of his, shining through once again. The heart he showed very few and for very good reason, because it usually got him in trouble.

"You know why Zarman took me, don't you?" I asked, turning to look at him. "He was doing it to get to you, he wanted you to grovel and beg at his feet to get me back."

He shook his head.

"Doesn't matter. I wasn't going to leave you with someone like that for another minute."

My heart fluttered and it started going a mile a minute, but not enough to blind me to what I was seeing.

His hand was starting to shake, balling into a tight, hateful fist as he recalled the memory of his recent confrontation.

"Honestly, you have no idea how much I wanted to torch that son of a bitch for what he did to you-"

"I know." He turned to look at me, those dark eyes of his starting to soften with surprise. "And I'm grateful to you for saving my life, Colonel."

I smiled.

"Thank you."

He gasped, as if taken aback by my honesty. But soon, the shock on his face faded away. And in its place was that sad, but beautiful smile of his I love so much.

"No problem, it's the least I can do."

I chuckled and kept smiling at him for what felt like hours.

"I am sorry, though," he said. My heart ached when I started to see his dark eyes turn sad with regret. "If I knew he was gonna pull a gun on you, I wouldn't have-"

"Colonel," I said. "Don't beat yourself up over this, just learn from it and move on." I couldn't help smirking. "That's what you're good at, isn't it?"

He was surprised at first. But it didn't take long for him to smile, again.

"I guess you're right," he said. "Thanks, Hawkeye."

I smiled.

"Don't mention it."

We sat in comfortable silence afterwards, chatting about our trip the other day or whatever else came to mind.

My feelings towards Colonel Mustang may be biased, I won't deny that. But for better or worse, I still see in him the same man I met so many years ago.

Even when he shouldn't show it.

The End