A Strong Will

by Kellen

Summary: When terrorists target Eastern HQ, Mustang and his officers find themselves on the defensive, and running out of time.

Rating: PG-13

Disclaimer: All things affiliated with Fullmetal Alchemist are the intellectual property of Hiromu Arakawa, and is licensed by companies that I have no stock in. In other words, own FMA? You've got to be kidding me.

Author's Notes: Putting this up at the urging of a few friends. It will be a multi-chaptered story, and its focus will be on Mustang and his subordinates. (I'm told I'm obsessed…) Timeline is when Mustang is administrator of the East City HQ, but before all the big stuff happens. Anime, manga… wherever you want to put it, I'm sure it'll fit.

Special thanks to Nekotsuki for her awesome mad beta skilz.

More special thanks for Bakabokken, for poking me and letting me use a title she's used (in a different fandom) when I bemoaned the fact that it was being difficult. I'm calling it an homage to a truly wonderful author who thinks too much like me sometimes it's scary. (Action! Bishie torture! Blood, guts and gore!)

First Lieutenant Riza Hawkeye perched on a cold exam table, arms wrapped around herself, blonde hair in disarray, her blue uniform torn and dirty and her brown eyes half-closed. Her superior officer's coat lay on the table next to her, folded neatly despite the mud smears on it. Riza sneezed and gratefully accepted a handkerchief from Jean Havoc, who watched the nurse dab at the bloody smears on Riza's face.

"How are you?" Havoc asked quietly, mindful of her head injury. She'd told him earlier that it was pounding.

She shook her head, and then blanched as the movement exacerbated the injury. She closed her eyes tightly and her lips thinned.

Havoc frowned. "Are you hurt anywhere else?"

Her voice was small and quiet. "No." The nurse blinked in disbelief and looked at Havoc, intending to speak. He waved her to silence. Frowning, the middle-aged woman went back to cleaning the cuts on Hawkeye's face.

"Then, can you tell me what happened?"

Riza sighed, straightened and resolutely pushed the nurse's hands away. "Can you leave?" she asked the woman quietly.

The nurse's frown deepened.

"Please, madam," Havoc intervened. "I promise I won't let her overexert herself. She'll just be telling me a story."

The nurse snorted. "See that she doesn't," she snapped as she turned on her

heel and strode out the door. It slammed, and Riza couldn't help the wince.

"Nice girl," Havoc commented dryly. He turned his attention back to Hawkeye.

Without a word, he picked up the cool cloth the nurse had left near the basin – the water was now cloudy with dirt and blood – and pressed it against one of the cuts on Riza's face.

"They took him," she said softly.

Havoc nodded. "We gathered that." He adjusted his grip, running the cloth along one of the gashes. Riza hissed. "Sorry."

She dismissed his apology with a small wave and looked up. Havoc frowned; her eyes were unfocused.

"How hard a hit did you take, Hawkeye?"

"Hard enough." Her voice was still small and quiet. It was so unlike Hawkeye that Havoc became even more worried than he had been when he'd first heard of the incident.

The incident. That seemed beyond insignificant when one was talking about the abduction of the commanding officer of Eastern Headquarters. Havoc bit back a curse. And how did anyone get the drop on the Flame Alchemist himself? Roy Mustang was many things – self-proclaimed arrogant ass and womanizer among them – but he was a smart man, and bordering on paranoid. One did not simply walk up to Colonel Mustang and put a gun to his head and slink away with him.

Not unless Mustang planned it specifically that way. And Mustang would never put Hawkeye in harm's way. Therefore, this wasn't planned.

"So," he said, "we know they took him. Who's they and how'd they do it?"

Hawkeye stared at him blankly, and Havoc cursed the head injury and whoever was behind it. "They are people unknown to me, and they did it with an unholy combination of force and intelligence."

Havoc snorted. If the situation were different, he would have said Hawkeye had actually cracked a joke.

Riza's arm fell away from her ribs and she clutched at Mustang's coat. "His gloves are in the pocket," she said.

Havoc looked up, surprise and fear on his face. "He never…"

"He didn't have a chance." Riza spoke so quietly that Havoc leaned in to listen. "Too quick. Too many. They staggered the attack so we didn't have a chance to regroup."

"He carries a sidearm."

Riza nodded, then hissed again as the movement aggravated her injuries. "And he used it," she said. "He needs to spend more time in the shooting range."

Havoc smiled at that. Most of the few times he'd seen Colonel Mustang upset was when he'd come back from enforced practice on the shooting range. The colonel hated the shooting range. Whether it was because it reminded him of things he didn't want to think about or he'd just rather use his alchemy, Havoc didn't know.

"We both had to reload at the same time." She shook her head. "He should have dropped the gun and grabbed his gloves, but something caught his eye. I don't know what," she added before Havoc could ask. "It made him hesitate. It was only a second, but it was enough." Her eyes fell to the floor and Havoc had to resist an urge to put his arm around her shoulder; Riza Hawkeye was never supposed to look vulnerable. The world was skewed if Riza was unsure of herself. "I know a bullet caught him; his arm or shoulder, I think. It was enough to slow him down, but not enough to incapacitate. I heard him cry out, though. When I turned to check on him, the car's window shattered."

Havoc nodded. "Well, that explains these gashes. Go on."

"I don't know where they came from; I lost track."

Havoc bit his lip, running his hand through messy red-blond hair. "So've I." He counted off on his fingers. "You and he were pinned down next to the car. He was injured, but not too badly. You turned to check on him and, when you did, the window shattered."

She nodded slowly.

"Understandably," Havoc continued, "you were distracted by the glass, and then they came?"

Hawkeye grimaced. "I cried out when the glass hit, and he turned toward me. I didn't realize that anyone had come any nearer to us than the snipers. I suppose the snipers must have been a distraction, providing covering fire for the others. I remember him pulling me toward him, and then..." She shrugged. "I'm told I was hit hard on the side of the head." She winced. "Now I can feel it."

"He must have seen it coming," Havoc surmised, "and tried to get you out of the way." He sighed. "Anything else?"

Hawkeye looked away, a disgusted look on her face. "No."

Havoc nodded. "All right." And then, because he believed that if Riza Hawkeye was shaken, the world was crumbling, he added, "You did well, Lieutenant. Try to get some rest."

Hawkeye blinked at the reassurance. "Are you sending that woman back in here?"

"She is the nurse."

"Then rest is not a possibility. I'd rather Black Hayate tend to my injuries."

Havoc choked back a chuckle. "Speaking of, I had Fuery bring the dog to the office. We weren't sure how long you'd be out."

Hawkeye's countenance softened. Amazing, Havoc thought, how just mention of that dog can put her at ease.

"Rest," he said. "We're on things, and we'll have the colonel back soon enough."

She looked up, ready to speak. "First Lieutenant Hawkeye," Havoc said, trying to sound stern but failing miserably, "you will stay here for the time being."

"Havoc!"

Havoc stood his ground, eye twitching nervously. "I'll have you declared unfit for duty if you don't follow that order."

"I outrank you," she said deliberately.

Havoc faltered for a moment torn between fear and relief; the Hawkeye he knew was finally starting to shine through. He could almost see her casting off a shroud of uncertainty as she went toe to toe with him. "I'm aware of that, sir," he said as calmly as he could muster, "but you need medical treatment. Your wellbeing takes precedence over the chain of command."

Riza crossed her arms. Havoc stood at attention. For a few moments, neither moved. Finally, Riza sighed and seemed to wilt. "Tell Feury to feed Black Hayate well."

Havoc grinned. "Yes, sir. Don't you worry, sir." His expression shifted to one of concern. "And I mean that. Don't worry. We'll figure this out." He turned to leave.

"Don't go near my dog, Second Lieutenant."

He threw her a jaunty wave before slipping through the door.

It had to have been the fever talking. It wasn't as if he'd never gone to work sick before - hell, Roy Mustang had ended up at work with a hangover worse than any infection before - and it wasn't as if he hadn't put up with a few snorts, sniffles and coughs.

Yes, less work was done, and Hawkeye tended to look at him with a curious mixture of sympathy and irritation on those days, but nothing like this had ever happened.

And, now, the infection must have gone straight to his head. For the life of him, Roy couldn't remember what it was he said, or what his captor had said, but he knew he'd said something rather stupid. That was evidenced by the sharp pain along his jaw where the man had hit him. Roy couldn't exactly remember what had happened afterward; when he came to again, the man was gone.

Carefully, Roy flexed his jaw, wincing. He lay on his side, hands bound behind his back. His dark hair was matted to his forehead by blood, sweat and dirt. He knew his wrists were chafed horribly by the rope, and the shoulder he lay on sent white-hot tendrils of pain through his arm and chest with every seemingly insignificant movement.

If he'd known that going to work sick this morning would have ended with his own abduction and injury, he would have stayed home. He should have listened to Hawkeye when she'd told him that putting off the inspection of those warehouses would be prudent.

But, no... Of course not. Roy had thought that the fresh air would do his pounding head some good.

Roy sighed. Hindsight wasn't helping. He blinked, doing his best to clear his vision. The room he was in was dim, and the only light was a dulled shaft of sunlight through a small dirty window. The floor and walls were wooden plank and Roy's back was to a rather haphazard pile of old crates. Everything seemed old; from the rope gathered tight around his wrists to the crates and to the weathered wood, the room was old.

He wriggled his wrists, seeing if he couldn't get the rope loosened, and almost immediately hissed in pain. His shoulder, it seemed, wouldn't let him move around much at all. He closed his eyes tightly and pressed his forehead against the cool floor.

It wasn't until the cool wood had calmed the fever and the pain that he remembered that he wasn't even sure if Hawkeye had survived. Anxiety took firm root in his psyche, and he continued to struggle against his bonds, pain and fever be damned.

"How is she?"

Havoc started, nearly dropping the file he carried, at the quiet, anxious voice. He looked up, willing his heart rate to return to normal and met Master Sergeant Kain Fuery's worried face. Havoc nearly smiled; in many ways, Fuery was the baby of the family, so to speak. Short, somewhat stout, and he had a perpetually innocent, cheerful face behind those large glasses. He was a genius when it came to mechanics and wiring, but it was his naiveté that endeared the staff to him. "She'll be fine," Havoc said, trying to make sure none of the worry and uncertainty he felt crept into his voice.

Black Hayate padded up behind Fuery and nosed the young man's knee. Absently, Fuery scratched at the dog's ears. "Really?"

Havoc nodded. "She'll be up and around in no time. You did good, MSG."

There was another trait that Fuery had that impressed Mustang's staffers. Havoc suspected that it was part of the reason Mustang had originally hand-selected Fuery for his inner circle. Kain Fuery was a mild mannered, almost timid young man, but he cared deeply for his friends, and he wouldn't think twice before leaping into the fray to protect those he cared about. Fuery's peculiar way of acting without thinking had saved Hawkeye's life, though she didn't know it yet.

Mustang and Hawkeye had just left the building, heading for the car parked at the curb for the colonel's inspection tour when the gunshots had started. No one had been in a position to help, but people had been scrambling to get there. By chance, Fuery had been the first of Mustang's direct staff to happen upon the scene. He hadn't been in time to see what happened to the colonel; the car they presumed he'd been loaded into was already speeding away. He did, however, chance upon the one aggressor who'd stayed behind to take care of the last witness: First Lieutenant Hawkeye.

She had been unconscious, and the gun was to her head. Fuery hadn't thought about it; he'd just whipped out his own sidearm and unloaded the clip into the man.

"What about the colonel?"

Havoc frowned. "Nothing. We're not sure of anything except he's not here, at this point."

Fuery chucked a thumb over his shoulder. "Breda and Falman are combing the scene."

Havoc shook his head. "There's been a million people tromping through there; they'll be lucky if they find anything."

Fuery fell into silence, still scratching at Hayate's ears. "Sir," he suddenly said, "you don't think it could be the ELF, do you?"

"Eastern Liberation Front?" Havoc shrugged. "It could be anyone. I'm not discounting a thing."

Fuery shook his head. "Don't you reme..." He trailed. "Of course not. You wouldn't have seen the files."

"What are you on about, MSG?"

"A couple weeks ago, I ran a few files from the Investigation office here to Colonel Mustang. I wasn't watching where I was going and ran..."

"...straight into that pretty girl on the desk downstairs," Havoc finished. "Yeah, I remember." He grinned.

"You guys teased me mercilessly," Fuery grumbled. He turned his attention to Hayate and patted the dog affectionately. "I dropped those files and I remember seeing that one of the reports had some information about the ELF acting up again here and there. It didn't seem too much more than usual, but I wonder if we looked back at it..."

Havoc palmed his forehead. "I wonder if we'd see a plan developing." Part of him wanted it to be so, just so they'd have a lead. The other part of him was hoping it wasn't. If the ELF had been part of it, and they'd missed the warning signs... He didn't want to think about it; it made him feel as if he were at fault for the entire mess. "Find those files, MSG Fuery."

Fuery snapped to attention and saluted. "Yes, sir." He was out the door almost before he finished the words, with Black Hayate trotting along behind him.