Chapter |1

The first thing Riza sees are the drapes billowing in the window, they sway and fall back onto the window sill, causing the lights in the room to flicker. Slowly but surely any chatter out in the hall is becoming more clear.

"She's in here." Riza hears the nurse say, "She's been drifting in and out of consciousness but it's growing less frequent."

The door creaks open, but the frame never hits the jamb.

"Riza? Riza, it's Colonel Hughes."

Riza takes a deep breath, "Hello, Colonel."

"Good, you're awake."

She can hear him shuffling, pulling over a chair. "Can I get you anything?"

"No, that's okay."

It's hard to turn over, when she tries to roll pain shoots down her neck and back.

"Take it easy," Hughes says, "It'll definitely require some adjusting to."

When Riza turns her head the room has come more into focus. The bed is in the center of the room, the drapes conceal them like a tent with the sunlight coming from the partition in the middle. Her shoulders are layered in bandages, and when she breathes she can feel them on her chest too.

"My arms?" She asks, turning to look back up at the ceiling.

"Gone."

"I see." Riza sighs. She can remember losing the first, but not the second. "—And Captain Mustang?"

"We're looking."

Her ears start to ring and the room feels hazy. She can recall the same sound from when the building had fell, the same atmosphere from the dust and crumbling foundation. She remembers losing sight of him. He had murmured something just before pushing her away.

"I have some news, good and bad. Let's start with the good." Hughes says. "The good news is, we managed to get a mechanic to fit you for automail. So this situation will only be temporary. The bad news is, we had to sell your father's house to the state to fund for the job. Specifically they were interested in the library for whatever alchemy research they might find."

She is under strict orders not to tell anyone where to find it. Even higher ups. At least she can rest knowing the library will be what's combed over in their attempts. Not that Riza could stop them. State Alchemists weren't allowed medical benefits, or property —not that she'd want the house anyway.

Hughes leaves her with no other instructions. Doctor Knox arrives with a mechanic in a week.

Even after three months her shoulders are still sore from connecting the nerves. The nurse had said things will be inconvenient, but the pain will go away with time.

"I would like to know my orders, Sir." Riza drops a pen for the third time that morning, "My recovery is going well. Motor functions are more than seventy-percent within normal range. I'd like to return to my post, Colonel. Please."

Colonel Hughes visits like clockwork, bringing flowers or quiche. Today, he leaves her banana pudding.

"How are you? Not your injuries."

"Fine." She says, "It's just—"

She wants to say that she's tired of the quiche, tired of pudding, and that the flowers keep dying because no one cares to water them.

"There are no orders, Riza. We've gone over this."

Colonel Hughes is tired. Not only evident through his growing frustration every time he visits, but it carries through his eyes and hands, even his military jacket. He doesn't bother to button his coat anymore, in just a few weeks the flap over his chest loses its fold, weighed down by the snaps.

"It's been three months, the war is over."

"Can I speak to Captain Mustang yet?"

"We've made arrangements." He hands her an envelope, "You'll be staying with Chris Mustang, the closest relative to the Captain. It was decided that she'd be the one to take you in after the war."

She couldn't remember the Captain ever saying he had family. He mentioned growing up in the city, his parents were from the mining town in the west, and they died. He hardly remembered them. But, she remembers the conversations after, where he'd ask questions about her home, or what her childhood was like. She recalls none.

Major Havoc knocks twice, announcing himself as he steps in. Every step he takes leaves a trail of ashes.

"You really couldn't put that out could you?" Hughes sighs.

"Stress reliever." Havoc shrugs, "Only a pack a day anyhow."

"Major Havoc." Riza smiles, "It's nice to see you."

If Hughes makes his rounds at the infirmary every week, then Havoc can be expected every other. At least when he visits there's no quiche.

Both of the men exit the room. It's not unlike them or anyone else to leave her out of it. Decisions are made and she's to go along with them. That's how it was, and how it's been.

When they come back it's to relay the results of their deliberation.

"There's a set of clothes in that suitcase. Three sets. It's all I could manage to gather for you. Get changed, your discharge is at three o'clock."

She stays with Hughes for the night. Apparently after the war he was able to afford a nice house in East City. It's not too far from headquarters and he says he's happy to make it home every night for dinner.

His wife Gracia very kind, bustling about the house despite the obvious exhaustion from her pregnancy. She rarely asks questions about the war, rarely says much, in fact. She is nothing like the girl the colonel had described during the war. She wasn't bubbly, or full of life, she didn't even look the same as in the pictures.

"Dinner should be ready in an hour."

That's all she says all evening. They spend dinner in silence, with their silverware clanking on the dishes, the occasional swig of water and the sound of chewing.

When they're finished, Hughes scrapes away leftovers into a tin. Riza is to help with washing the plates.

Riza washes while Gracia dries, eventually they form a rhythm.

"Isn't that hard on your hands? Won't they rust?"

"No, ma'am." Riza says, "The metal they used won't rust. But I do dry the components well to be sure."

"May I ask what happened?"

It was the final battle in Ishval. The one that would complete the—the war."

Extermination. She thinks, and hears when Kimblee had referred to the Ishvalans as vermin. A people needing to be cleansed so that Amestris could prosper.

"Are we vermin then?" Riza had asked, "If we're to be disposed of after all this?"

Kimblee smirked, "Do you really think they can do that? Destroy all of the alchemists? All of their weaponry? Think about this, Hawkeye. Who's really in control here? If we decided we wanted to take all of this shit hole for ourselves. Just like that." He snapped his fingers, "In the blink of an eye."

Gracia doesn't pry any further. They gather linens and layer them on top of an old cot. Riza helps make tea and they all gather around the radio to listen to the night's selection of piano. Gracia falls asleep, slumped over on Hughes' shoulder.

"Colonel?" Riza says quietly, "May I ask you something?"

"Of course."

"If the war is over. I am to be discarded, correct?"

Hughes adjusts Gracia, gently laying her down on a few cushions, "No, I told you we've made arrangements."

"If the war is over, and I am no longer useful then I am to be discarded. That is what the Fuhrer himself said. I fail to see how I am useful here, sir." She takes a breath, "Without my arms I am unable to perform flame alchemy, therefore I am no longer of use."

"That's not true."

"The Captain still hasn't spoken to me." She says, "When will I be able to see him?"

"Riza—"

"Please, if I am no longer useful to him….Please."

"Listen to me, you are useful. To myself, as well as Roy. I don't want to hear another word about this."

She is to use the nursery tonight. Gracia had a cot set up in the middle of the room. An unfinished bassinet is in the corner, an empty toy box is against the wall. Riza's place here is makeshift, just like everywhere else. Just like her father's home when she was young, just like the "armory" in ishval.

She pulls the suitcase over to the cot and picks out a silver pocket watch. The Amestrian dragon on the front is covered in small dents and scuffs, on the back she can still read the faint "R.M." among the erosion.