Chapter 1
Disclaimer: All content belongs to Hiromu Arakawa. I make no profit from this in any way, shape, or form.
A/N: This will be a canon divergence from right before the event of Hughes's death and forward.
Riza Hawkeye did not own an alarm clock.
It was no scatterbrained mental slip, and it wasn't as though it were something she offhandedly meant to purchase and yet kept putting it off. Her lack of ownership was a deliberate, weighed decision, as with everything else she did or did not do. Her body naturally knew when to wake - Lieutenant Hawkeye was nothing if not punctual, even in her unconscious state.
The more prominent reason, however, was that after her days in Ishval, she had become easily perturbed in her sleep, as had nearly everyone else she knew of who'd survived the battlefield. One did not touch a soldier with the intent to wake them, unless they wanted to get shot by the gun hiding under the soldier's pillow, or strangled to death by the soldier's bare hands.
Alarms were just as bad at setting off a soldier with any form of this affliction; not bad for the clock, of course, but for the soldier's derailing sanity. Riza much preferred waking naturally without holding a knife to an inanimate object's throat.
Today Hawkeye was particularly grateful that she did not possess such a device; her head felt as though someone were drilling a hole through it with a screwgun. A shrill ring to wake her up would have sent her off the edge. And she was forced to admit that it wasn't just a normal headache as she leaned over the edge of her bed, groping for her trashbin and heaving violently. It was a migraine.
Trembling, Riza slid her legs off the bed, pulling a blanket with her as she half-crawled to the bathroom, not bothering to turn the light on. Her toothbrush soon found its way into her hand, scrubbing out the bile residue left on her tongue. Her motions were a little too vigorous, and she accidentally stabbed herself in the uvula with the brush, making her gag. She was sure she would have vomited again if it weren't for the fact that she'd skipped dinner the night before, not feeling well enough to eat.
Rinsing and spitting out whatever was left in her mouth, Riza dropped the red plastic brush onto the granite counter, wincing as it clattered against it loudly and then fell onto the floor. The lieutenant spent a long minute mulling over whether she should pick it back up; despite the unnecessary pain the movement caused her, her strict, practical side won out. She washed it out in the sink and set it back in its ceramic container.
After swallowing a generous dose of painkillers from her medicine cabinet, she made it back into her bedroom, grabbing the trashcan from her floor and holding at arm's length as she carried it back to her bathroom. When she'd finished cleaning it out, she flopped back down on her bed with all the grace of a hippopotamus. With half-lidded eyes, she stared at her uniform draped over the chair sitting at her vanity, debating. She wasn't one to call in sick, but…
Her hand was on the receiver, dialing her superior, before she realized what she was doing. She gazed dazedly out her window, the hand holding the phone outstretched away from her ear. Please pick up, sir…
He answered on the fifth ring. "You've reached Colonel Mustang," he answered, as per usual.
"Sir?" She winced; her voice sounded much weaker than she had meant to let on. Turning her head from the receiver, she cleared her throat in an attempt to cover her tracks. "Sir," she repeated, her voice just a smidge louder, "it's Lieutenant Hawkeye."
"Lieutenant," he breathed, sounding almost relieved for a moment before recognizing the edge in her voice. "Why are you calling me this early in the morning? What's wrong?"
Instead of telling him outright her reasons for calling, she asked, "I don't suppose I could talk you out of going to work today?" Though it was a childish gesture, the lieutenant couldn't help but cross her fingers in hopes that he would listen to her.
Mustang chuckled softly. "You know me. Normally the answer would be yes, but I can't today. We've got a field assignment today. Remember?" He sounded uneasy; it wasn't like her to forget something like that.
Riza swore under her breath.
"Lieutenant? What's wrong?" the Colonel asked again.
She had been hoping to convince him to stay home; she couldn't protect him if she stayed home and he was at work, and he needed her at his side, especially on a day like today, where he was going to put himself at direct risk. They were hunting Scar, who could easily set fire to the Colonel's brain faster than the dark-eyed man could blink. She couldn't leave him to face that alone. She couldn't leave him defenseless.
Restraining a sigh, she answered, "Nothing, sir. I'll see you at work."
Colonel Mustang was at her front door less than twenty minutes later. After shushing Black Hayate, shooing him back out of the room, and wincing from the pain of the sunlight coming from the outside world, she registered his presence and her eyes widened. "S-sir!" she stuttered, her hand flying to her temple in a relatively weak salute, her back stiffening.
He gave her a halfhearted smile and held up a gloved hand. "At ease, Lieutenant. I came to check up on you, and to drive you to work when you insist on going."
Riza wanted to smirk at him, or thank him, but the only reaction she could muster up was to wave a hand inside, ushering them both out of the sun. The light felt like knives stabbing into her frontal lobe. She shut the door as quietly as possible behind her.
"Sir," she began quietly, "as I told you, I'm fine. I don't know why you insisted on coming over-"
The look in Mustang's dark eyes killed the words on her tongue. "I know better than to lie to you, Lieutenant. I would think you'd know the same." While the words were harsh, his tone was soft. He wasn't angry at all; he knew her. She wasn't lying to him out of malice or ill intent – Riza was denying it to herself, and therefore to him. She'd always been stubborn. "You can tell me if you're not feeling well."
Before she could respond, his right glove was off and his hand was pressed against her forehead. Her lips pulled downwards into a small frown. "I don't have a fever, sir," she insisted, pulling back from him slightly. Riza's hand grabbed his and held it at a distance from her face. "And with all due respect, I'll decide if I'm well enough to go to work today."
Mustang sighed and retrieved his hand from hers, sliding the glove back on. "This is about the case today, isn't it?" he asked.
Riza nodded crisply. "I can't protect you from the comfort of my home, sir. I need to be by your side, especially on a day like today."
"You also can't protect me very well with a migraine," he retorted.
Her eyes widened. How did he know?
"Your lights are all off," he answered her unspoken question. "You're barely speaking above a whisper, and you didn't even greet me when I showed up at your door," he finished jokingly, with a slight pout. "How long has it been since the last one?"
She didn't answer right away. The Colonel followed Riza as she moved to sit down at her kitchen table, rubbing her temple lightly. They both looked up as Black Hayate padded back into the kitchen with them, sniffing at Roy and wagging his tail as the man pet him fondly. "I can't say for sure," Riza finally responded, "but it has been a while. I took medicine, for it, though. I will be all right, Colonel. I'm not staying home."
He shifted forward in his seat, still rubbing her dog's neck. "I'll make you a deal. You stay home today, and I'll bring Ross and Brosh with me along with the rest of the team to fill your spot."
She didn't bother getting offended at his phrasing – could he really replace her that easily? - but it did upset her to think he could overlook her real role in accompanying him in the field. "Sir," she muttered, "even if you could get away with bringing along two extra lieutenants who are not assigned under your command-"
"Are you doubting me, Hawkeye?" Mustang interrupted her, his eyebrow upturned, a feigned look of hurt on his face. "I can pull strings when I want to."
The lieutenant had to resist rolling her eyes; the motion would have been painful. "Even so, they wouldn't be performing the role of your bodyguard, sir. That's why I need to be with you today. I'm not going to risk your safety for my personal com-"
Suddenly she stopped, this time cut off not by another person, but by her own body. Her stomach flipped painfully and she grimaced, steeling herself for what was about to happen. She stood and ran for the sink, dry-heaving into it and spitting up what little substance she had left in her, gagging at the bitter taste of bile on her tongue.
Mustang was immediately at her side, holding her hair away from her face and rubbing her back. Riza knew he could feel how badly she was trembling. She cursed inwardly at having forgotten to put her hair up in a clip; she hated the Colonel seeing her so weak, and having him this close to her while in this state was downright embarrassing.
As she finished, she moved away from him and rinsed her mouth out. She began to head towards the bathroom again in order to once again brush her teeth, but Mustang held his arm out in front of her, blocking her way. Riza refused to meet his eyes. She knew what she had coming.
"You're staying home today, Lieutenant. That's an order."
Everyone in the office jumped as Roy threw the phone on the receiver.
"What's the matter, chief?" Havoc asked warily. Roy had been tense all day; the men didn't say anything, but they guessed it had something to do with Hawkeye's absence. At the very least, it didn't help to add that on top of whatever was getting Mustang all worked up.
"Scar's been spotted in Central. They're transferring my orders to another officer over there," he stated, his voice betraying no emotion. He straightened and turned to face his team. "Looks like our field trip's been canceled." And there goes my chance at ending this, and at a promotion. He's becoming a bigger problem than I thought. How the hell is he evading the entire military so easily? Who the hell is this guy?
"Damn, and I was hoping to get away from my paperwork for a day," Breda grumbled under his breath, not making any real effort to hide his words from his superior.
"You and me both," Roy replied distantly, gazing out the window. At least the lieutenant won't have anything to worry about, he mused. And maybe it's a good thing, since I couldn't get Brosh and Ross under me for this mission, although it's suspicious I couldn't be told where they are…
Suddenly the phone rang again, and the Colonel glared at it for a long minute before grudgingly picking it up. "Colonel Mustang," he answered shortly.
"An Alphonse Elric calling for you, sir," a secretary's irritatingly nasal voice informed him. "Should I put him through?"
Roy groaned and ran a hand through his hair. How many times had he told the woman to automatically transfer them to his line? "Yeah. Next time, don't bother asking, just do it,' he reminded her impatiently. He was answered with a brief 'sir' before he heard a click, and the line transferred. "Alphonse, what's going on?" he demanded.
"Al, I told you not to talk to that basta- hey!"
"Quiet, Brother, I'm on the phone!" Alphonse cleared his nonexistent throat and turned his metal head back to the receiver. "Colonel, I need to talk to you. Something happened last night. Brother's in the hospital-"
"What?!" Roy gasped. The hell had the brat and his tin can of a brother gotten themselves into now? "Alphonse, I need you to tell me everything."
"Well, whatever you two planned on doing with your lives after you get your bodies back, it looks like being an artist is out of the question for you, Fullmetal," Roy snickered. He held in his hand Ed's drawing of two figures dressed in black, though it could hardly be used as a reference to point him in the right direction. All he could really tell about the two was that one had long, spiky hair, and the other was woman who was… well endowed.
The late afternoon light shot rays of pink onto Edward's already red face. "Shut up, Colonel! I doubt you could do any better!" he cried indignantly.
Roy gave him a hard look. "Well, between my alchemy training, the military academy, the war, and climbing the ranks, I can't say I've had a lot of time for art lessons," he spat. "Anyway, do either of you two have any idea who these people are?" he asked, handing the doodle back to the blonde runt.
Edward shook his head and shrugged. "Nah, they just kept rambling about some plans we weren't supposed to know about. But whoever they are, they seemed to have some sort of control over what's going on with Lab 5 and Central Prison, which means there's a good chance they've got some connection to the military. Either that, or they've managed to smuggle death-row criminals for years without anyone knowing…"
Roy felt a chill start to creep through him, though he kept it from showing. The last thing the Elrics needed to see was their superior let his mask break. If they're in any way affiliated with the military, then are they the ones in control, or are they following orders from someone higher up? How much involvement does the military have in these experiments?
"You said you suspected that they were working on a philosopher's stone using the prisoners sentenced to execution," Roy began, recalling with a minute shudder what the boys had discovered about the ingredients of the damned thing. They had refused to tell him until he gave a direct order to report their information; even then, it had been like pulling teeth. "Did you find any evidence to back your theory up when you were in there?"
Again, Edward shook his head. "No. All we know for sure is that they were using them for experiments; they know how to bind souls to armor like I did with Al. They were using them as guards, so they must have been hiding something important."
Roy nodded after a moment of thought. "Well, unfortunately, this kind of thing isn't my division," he announced breezily. "Try to stay out of trouble; I'm not going to come all the way up here to visit every time you land yourself in the hospital, Fullmetal," he remarked, throwing a haphazard wave at the brothers before strolling out of the room, catching a glimpse of their dumbfounded faces before making his exit.
He was glad that Ross had had the sense not to take the Elrics to a military hospital. The phones were less likely to be tapped here. Even so, he'd be relying on code, just in case. He popped a coin into the nearest phone, dialing one of the only numbers he'd ever cared to memorize.
"Gracia," he muttered when the other line picked up. "Where's Maes?"
Envy spun in Lieutenant-Colonel Hughes' chair, waiting. Lust had said to give her fifteen minutes, and the homunculus was counting down the seconds. Currently, it was in the soldier's form, though it was likely that that would be changing soon. Hughes would need to be disposed of – Envy didn't really trust its sister to get the job done - and it wouldn't do to let anyone see a duplicate of a man killing himself.
But who to use…
The chair slowed in its revolutions, and Envy's eyes scanned the room. It saw endless framed photos of a mousy-haired woman and a small child who looked exactly like her, some with the soldier and a few without. His wife and daughter, it mused. That'll come in I need someone in uniform if I'm walkin' out of here in plain sight.
Of course they needed a culprit, someone to pin as guilty so as to avoid any deeper investigation and risk exposing themselves. As much as any of them hated to admit it, the homunculi were not an all-powerful group, not even with Father. Their existence was to remain silent until Father's grand plans came to fruitition. For they would all be unstoppable, invincible, immortal on that day, and no human army would be able to exterminate them or even overthrow them once it happened.
Envy continued to survey the office, its cold eyes taking note of every detail in the room.
Suddenly, one particular photograph caught its eye. It depicted Hughes and another dark-haired man, the one Envy was fairly sure was named Mustang. The Flame Alchemist, Envy recalled. Hughes had his arm loosely draped around the Colonel, leading the Homunculus to believe they were close. It filed that away with the pictures of his wife and daughter.
Its gaze drifted to the right to see a woman next to the alchemist, a third party completing the trio, though she seemed almost like Mustang's shadow from the way she held herself, almost as though she were his bodyguard. He must be important, it pondered thoughtfully. And that makes him a threat.
The homunculus stared at the photo for a long moment, its face eventually twisting up into a parody of a grin.
Envy's eyes flitted back up to the clock, smirking as it saw the time. "Thirteen minutes is close enough," it shrugged as it stood, the air around it rippling with electricity as its form began to mutate.
A/N: Well, here you have it; the first chapter is done. Please leave me a review and give me your thoughts!
