What if war came-fic...AU-ish because of that. Drama. Gen.
Notes: This was written rather long ago when not much had been revealed about Ishvar, wars and such. So some details in this fic might be wrong.

Night
by Maaya

Waiho kia tangi ahau ki taku tupapaku;
a pa he uru ti e pihi ake.

Let me weep for my dead; he is not like
the head of a cabbage tree, which springs
up again.
/Maori Proverbs

-

Hawkeye was tired; the humid weather made her shiver inwardly despite the heat and she felt an inevitable headache come creeping through the night to firmly attach itself behind her eyes and forehead. What she wanted the most was to be home in her little apartment, away from rain and darkness and heat, preferably with a cup of iced tea (lemon flavour sounded appealing right now) and a book. She was working her way through the old classics, but now unsure of which one lay on her nightstand table. Crime and Punishment? No, she hadn't started that one yet - she remembered reading the beginning, but then left it in search for something simpler, more relaxing. Tom Sawyer? Yes, that was it. It would've been stupid to bring it here; she would probably have lost it sooner or later anyway. It was safer beside her bed than in this uncomfortable tent with more weapons than people.

The last time this had happened, fifteen years ago, she hadn't been sent here. Not many women had, but that had apparently changed. She was famous for being good with the gun and had been in the military for a long time. Why shouldn't they send her?

They had all received the same order. Hawkeye would probably have been angry if she had been excluded.

Now she almost wondered why that would've upset her. Almost. She thought about the Colonel, who shouldn't have been sent hadn't it been for being a National Alchemist. She thought about his tired eyes and that this was the second time he was going to war, wasn't once enough? and how he had apologized to his section as if it was his fault they were going. Their eyes had met; her and the Colonel's and for that short moment, she knew he remembered just how much she hated to kill.

Hawkeye had been to the Eastern Area before, and even though she remembered it as a…quietly threatening place, as if it was waiting for an explosion, it hadn't been like this. Of course, back then, it hadn't been under this kind of circumstances. Unspoken tension hovered over the camp strangely, perhaps because they hadn't seen action yet – it was too quiet to allow the soldiers to relax – everyone was restless. A dogs barking from somewhere far away reminded her of Black Hayate; she had left the young dog (not a puppy anymore) with the old neighbour lady who had been more than happy to have some company.

Back in the tent, some men were playing poker – their growling and laughter sounded just a bit too natural to be fully relaxed. Greenhorns, then. She didn't know who they were and she did, frankly, not care. They didn't bother to give men and females separate sleeping quarters anymore, though they had (ridiculously) attempted it in the beginning. She had automatically sought out her section, the ones she had worked with for years now. Not as much for the comfort of familiarity as for the comfort of knowing that she was among men she could trust to watch her back, as she watched theirs.

A pair of boots stepped into her line of sight and Hawkeye knew without looking up who it was; there was only one person she knew who walked like that, even tired. Looking up anyway, she couldn't help but wonder how 'like that' was, but soon forgot about it.

Hawkeye hadn't seen the Colonel for days, maybe even weeks; they had so far separated the National Alchemists from the normal soldiers. It frustrated her she couldn't keep her eyes on her commanding officer – she was used to follow him around and acting like a body-guard when his ego sometimes grew too big and he forgot crucial facts. It didn't happen too often anymore, but he was, had been, prone to boast.

The first thing she noticed now was that he hadn't shaved. It looked unnatural on him, maybe because it took away some of the smooth handsomeness he usually had.

"Colonel," She said, more as a greeting than as an honour-title. He looked tired. Very tired, even more than she herself felt. Probably because he was more of an idealist than she would ever be; every punch for her was a kick with metal boots to him.

He looked uncertain (which was even more proof to how tired he must be), then jadedly flopped down on the ground beside her. "First lieutenant."

Pause, companionable, sad and not very comforting if it hadn't been for the knowledge they were both, for the moment, alive.

Ever since they had been young, Colonel Mustang had come to her to talk when something worried him. He had never outright said he was troubled, but as a good listener, she understood what he wanted to say. Today, (or rather, tonight) he fumbled with words and seemed to need help to start. Oh well - how to begin? Hawkeye knew that 'are you all right' would be a stupid question, but she still had to force herself not to ask. "Will you be okay?" she said instead. It was, after all, more important, even though she knew the answer before it was past his lips. Call it a reminder, something to make him recall he was needed.

He looked thankful. "Naturally. Will you?"

She snorted. "Of course."

The Colonel seemed about as surprised at her answer as she had been at his; not at all. He sighed and touched his cheek with a hand, perhaps a bit fascinated at the beard he felt there. Hawkeye waited for the bomb to drop.

It did.

"Fullmetal is here."

Edward. Oh.

Hawkeye had to admit, she wasn't surprised, because it had been inevitable. He was dubbed a human weapon after all. A very fifteen-year old human weapon, but age didn't count in the end. At least, that was what their superiors thought.

For a moment, she wondered why she hadn't already known the boy was here, why Colonel Mustang had come to tell her. She recalled that Edward had been away when they had received their orders, and then she had forgotten about him.

"Will he be okay?" This time, she was unsure what the answer would be, and it put her off her game.

"Honestly?" He shrugged. "Don't know."

The heavy heat made it hard to breathe, and sweat and humidity made her uniform feel damp. Weren't the nights supposed to be cooler? She tried not to imagine Edward, who she had known since he was eleven, in this environment, under the threat of death and killing. Alone. Because, Alphonse couldn't be allowed to come, could he? Of course, even if he was, Edward probably wouldn't permit it. "Is there anything I can do?"

The Colonel's eyes were distant, as if he was remembering something unpleasant. Or maybe he was thinking about the future. "No." He spoke slowly. "I've already talked to him."

Of course he would take anything that happened to Edward badly; the Colonel had always looked out for the youth. Perhaps it had been just as much for his own sake as for Edward's, but Hawkeye wasn't fooled by her commanding officer's facade at all; she knew that somehow, he cared about the youngest National Alchemist. Not like a father cared about his son, or a teacher's fondness for a student, but in the way the Colonel cared about all his subordinates. But she didn't voice her thoughts.

There was nothing more to say on the subject, so they sat in silence for a while.

end