Author's Notes:

Little drabble. Spoilers for Manga chapter 60, Absence of God. This is inspired by a conversation between then-Cadet Hawkeye, Major Kimbley, and Major Mustang.

Can you definitely say that you don't think 'I hit him! All right!'? And hold pride in your skill, that you don't have even a little moment when you feel a sense of achievement in your work?

As many veterans of the war, she was not immune to sleepless nights where the few hours of rest she did manage to gather to her name were full of nightmarish horrors that still refused to leave her mind. It was not too particularly rare for her to spend nights awake, staring off into space, to avoid the vivid images of blood, smoke and bodies littering her memory even years after the event.

Don't avert your eyes from death. Look forward. Look at the people you're killing in the face.

The small puppy was trying desperately to wiggle his way into her lap, but she consistently fidgeted and he couldn't find a suitable position. After staring blankly out the window for what felt like an eternity, she dragged herself from the chair and walked to the coat rack. Tired hands wearily slid the coat over her shoulders and buttoned it tightly to ward off the chill that she knew was outside. A quiet click of her tongue encouraged the puppy to appear promptly at her heels, tagging along as she moved towards the door of the apartment.

And don't forget them.

It was brutally cold outside, snow falling gently to the ground and forming small peaks. The shape of the piles alone reminded her of sand dunes and rumpled tents—so she turned her gaze upwards, only to feel the droplets of snow melting against her cheeks. With a shiver, she finally settled her eyes directly on the ground in front of her, and counted her steps as she trudged through the gathering snow.

Don't forget.

There was one place in the usually quiet city that was still open at such an indecent hour as 0115 hours. At the very least, it was the only place that was not a bar that remained open throughout the night. The quiet coffee shop was a common nighttime visit during bouts of insomnia. Over time, she had met quite a few of the Ishbal veterans guzzling the caffeinated drinks provided, whittling away the hours until daybreak, some of them even in uniform to prevent having to return home. She rarely spoke to them, but all it took was one look into their eyes, and she knew—they knew—that they were all present for the same reason, for the same sleepless evenings and terrorizing nightmares.

Don't forget.

Tonight, it was quiet. First entering the small shop, she didn't see anyone. No tired forms dressed in blue uniforms hunched over the tables, no people sitting lazily in front of the chess board that the owner provided, nobody quietly reading the newspaper in the corner of the room. In the flickering light of the fireplace, she finally noticed the form of the tender, who just looked at her and nodded in quick understanding, off to make the tea that she didn't even need to order. The other form she recognized was sitting silently at the table in front of the fireplace, hands wrapped around a mug of something-or-other, staring absently into the fire.

Without a word, she tiptoed across the room, and took a seat beside him, following his gaze to the flickering flames. He hardly moved to acknowledge that she had arrived, but she knew that he had noticed by the way his fingers shifted just slightly on the mug and his head lowered just an inch or so. Even now, she found there were times when she couldn't look into a fire or stand the smell of soot and smoke though it was something so familiar to her, as her superior officer consistently smelled of it.

"Couldn't sleep, Lieutenant?"

She remained still, though her eyes shifted just slightly. "No, sir."

After a pause, hesitation, he sighed. "It's good to see I'm not the only one."

She nodded, and folded her hands in her lap, the puppy placing himself comfortably between the two military officers. The dog yipped brightly at the man, who did not respond. Puzzled, the puppy looked to her, and she just scratched his ears. Understanding the unspoken words, he lowered his head against his front paws, sitting quietly between them.

They won't forget you, either.

"You haven't forgotten, have you?" He was looking at her then, as though he knew precisely what brought her there. As though he could tune in on the thoughts in her mind and word-for-word catch what conversation was still in her mind so many years later.

Letting out a sigh, she shook her head. "No. I haven't."

He placed the mug on the floor, and rested his hand gently on the dog's back, his fingertips just faintly brushing against hers. "I haven't either."