Disclaimer: All content belongs to Hiromu Arakawa.
Author's Note: This story takes place approximately five years after the Promised Day. It's in first-person, switching between Scar and Riza Hawkeye. I started this with the intention of writing a death fic, so prepare yourself. I'm a new writer, so any helpful tips for improvement are very welcome!
Scar
Four years ago, General Roy Mustang and his men moved to Ishval to begin the reconstruction of our homeland. He brought Major Miles and me along so that our people will have a voice in the decisions for how to proceed. Mustang's team has been invaluable to us during this time. Thanks to Capt. Heymans Breda and Capt. Jean Havoc, we're taking full advantage of our natural resources, building an economy for ourselves in trade with both Amestris and Xing. Our crops, wheat and cotton, are flourishing, and we have enough to keep stores as our population grows. Second Lieutenant Kain Fuery has been irreplaceable in reaching out to our brethren scattered around the country in slums, and thanks to his diligence, more and more refugees are returning home every day. First Lieutenant Vato Falman, because of his experience in Briggs, has put his shoulder to the wheel wherever he is needed: one day helping draw up a list of necessary materials for accommodating new arrivals, and the next, helping to separate the cotton fibers from the seeds. Lieutenant Colonel Riza Hawkeye, while she never leaves the General's side, knows every Ishvallan by name and always makes an effort to welcome each new arrival.
The General himself, while he is often heard complaining about his workload, always completes every task ahead of schedule. Some speculate this to be the work of Lt. Colonel Hawkeye, but I know he does it out of his genuine desire to help the people of Ishval. After completing his work, he always takes time to make sure every one of his subordinates feels useful and supported. He is well loved by his men, as well as the Ishvallans.
In an effort to further his knowledge of the Ishvallan culture, he regularly sits down after dinner with Major Miles and me, sometimes asking questions about what he's observed, and other times, just listening to our stories. When others heard about these little chats, many came to join us, my master the most often visitor. Mustang listened to every story with deep interest and compassion, leaving every conversational partner feeling that their voice had been heard. It was on one such night, after my master had left, that the general had revealed his true plan to me.
"Scar, there is something I want to discuss with you." he said as the curtain settled from my master's departure. Scar was my former name, the one I had taken up when I left Ishval to take revenge upon the State Alchemists. His eyes had turned hard, a change from the kindness he had when he listened to my people. Saying nothing, I sat down on the mat across from him and waited for him to continue. He closed his eyes briefly and looked down at the floor, a slight frown on his face. "You have the right to know what my true ambitions where, why I was aiming for the top." Lt. Colonel Hawkeye glanced at him, surprised. It was obvious he had not told her that he was planning to tell me this, which was unusual for the two of them. Most of the time, it seemed as if they shared one mind in two bodies.
I nodded, feeling that a verbal response would be inappropriate. Gen. Mustang sighed. "Hawkeye, you may as well sit down." The woman knelt down on the mat next to him, keeping her back straight as she lowered herself, as Ishvallan women do. "You know Fuhrer Grumman is returning this country to a democracy?" he asked.
Again, I nodded. It was often a topic in our discussions. Mustang smiled distantly. "Yes, I suppose we've talked that one to death, haven't we? That was one of my original goals. But I intend to take it further when I reach the top." He drew a deep breath and released it. "I intend to hold trials for all of those responsible for what happened in Ishval."
He stared directly into my eyes, trying to garner my reaction. I didn't move and returned his stare. I was surprised to see that his eyes had lost their hardness and were replaced with the look of a man who carried immense grief. I had seen that look on many of the older Ishvallan refugees, and I'd seen this man turn that look into one of hope. When he didn't speak, the Lt. Colonel looked at him with concern. She'd heard all of this before, and I could tell from the way she held herself that it was a difficult subject for him.
When he spoke again, he lowered his eyes from my face and clenched his fist. "It is my intention to bring justice to the Ishvallans. I want to do more than just restore your homeland. I want to set a standard for this country, and ensure that nothing like what happened here ever happens again. What was done here was an abomination." His speech was halting, presumably out of shame.
By this point, I had realized where he was going with this little speech. "And what of you, Mustang?" I asked. From the slope of his shoulders and the expression in his eyes, I knew he felt the weight of what he had done in Ishval to this day. I remembered hearing stories about the Flame Alchemist during the war. Even his own comrades were terrified of him. In some ways, he was more terrifying than the Crimson Alchemist, whose laughter would fill the streets of his destruction. The Flame Alchemist was quieter, more distant, when he killed you. Many of my brethren thought he might not have been human, back during those times.
He drew breath as if to speak, but released it again. Straightening up his back and shoulders, he looked me in the eye; the hardness had returned. "I intend to stand trial for the crimes I committed in this land." No longer did the great general who led the coup against the homunculi sit before me. No, he was replaced by a young State Alchemist, accompanied by an even younger sniper, facing an Ishvallan monk, shame and guilt in the way they held themselves. I admired them, for facing me as they did. They did not run away from what they had done; they didn't mitigate it by considering their contribution to rebuilding the land they had destroyed.
I let out a soft chuckle at the odd situation. Mustang blinked, and Hawkeye looked confused. "If that is your intention, then do not back down, Flame Alchemist. Look your decision in the eye and accept it." Hawkeye's eyes widened at my comment.
"Is that your opinion?" Mustang asked.
"My opinion doesn't matter. You don't carry my guilt, and my life won't change if you go through with this." We understood each other, and smiled. I was familiar with the need to be held responsible for what you had done. I had felt the same thing when I returned to my homeland after living in a world of hatred.
Mustang smirked. "No insisting that I'm foolish? No pleading for me to change my mind? I'm hurt." Hawkeye chuckled and rolled her eyes, and I grinned at the general.
"I won't shed a tear for you, General. Besides, we all know water is your downfall. I would have killed you that rainy day if the Lt. Colonel here hadn't interfered." Laughing, the general and his subordinate stood to leave. "General," They both turned to look at me. I dropped my smile as I said, "Thank you for confiding in me." I nodded my head in respect, and he gave me a sad smile as he left.
I was left wondering at the honor of a man who has achieved so much, yet can't move past the mistakes he's made in his younger years. For all that I had done, I had never been brought up on trial. And here was the Hero of Ishval, given medals for something he was now trying to undo.
Hawkeye
Leaving Scar's house, I glanced up at the general. His posture was set in the way I had become too familiar with over the years. A child ran out of a house in front of us, making him stumble a bit. The child looked back over his shoulder and yelled, "Sorry!" but he didn't slow down. The general stopped and watched after the child, who ran far off down the street. His eyes softened as they followed the boy.
Knowing he had a need to make a short speech, I prompted, "Sir?"
"It's a wonderful thing, to see into the future, isn't it, Lt. Colonel?" He was thinking of that month when he was blind, just after the fight with the homunculi. Dr. Marcoh had used the last philosopher's stone from Ishval to restore his sight, and I knew he felt a duty to repay the Ishvallans for that. When we'd been in the hospital for our injuries from that battle, he'd said that the loss of his sight was what the Truth gave to those who had a vision for the future. It was his vision for the future that kept me by his side.
"It is, sir." I answered. He smiled down at me, a smile which I returned. The boy had disappeared around a corner, and the general walked off in the direction of our quarters, with me following close on his heels. We reached the building where we'd set up our headquarters, and Captain Breda was on the radio with Central, trying to convince them to allocate more funding for us. He raised his hand in greeting when we passed through the doorway. In the break room down the hall, we found Havoc and Falman playing checkers. Black Hayate was sleeping in the corner, curled up with his mate, Chise. Havoc had brought the dog back from his time working at his family's store, and the two dogs seemed very well suited for each other. They'd already had one litter of puppies, which had been adopted by Ishvalan families, and they were expecting another.
The general cleared his throat, to which Falman shot up. He hadn't noticed our entrance and couldn't let go of old habits. I looked disdainfully at the general. He knew Falman was a stickler for protocol, even when it wasn't necessary, and Gen. Mustang loved to pull his strings. Havoc just waved his hand, staring at the board.
"Hey, Mustang." Falman shot a look at Havoc, obviously displeased with the lack of respect in Havoc's tone. I rolled my eyes and knelt down in front of the dogs. Hayate lifted his head with a worried look, sensing my concern. Chise didn't move, but I understood that. Bearing puppies was tiresome work. I pet the top of Hayate's head until the worried look went away. Standing back up, I saw the general had pulled up a chair to the table Havoc and Falman were competing over.
I approached their table, standing behind the general. "Care to take on the winner, Hawkeye?" Havoc asked, shooting me a grin. I always beat him whenever we sat down to a game.
I sighed. "Maybe if Lt. Falman wins this one. If you win, I don't think it would be enough of a challenge." Examining the board, I noticed that the game was about even. I hadn't really seen Falman's skills at checkers before, and I was intrigued to notice he was leading Havoc into a trap. He was sneakier than he appeared.
Havoc's face dropped, but he somehow managed to keep the cigarette in his mouth. "You're so cruel!" he yelled, proceeding to fake tears.
"Havoc, you may need to focus on your game rather than the Lt. Colonel." The general leaned forward, watching as Falman began his attack. Havoc's eyes widened, slowly realizing he'd been had. Falman sat back and crossed his arms, obviously pleased with himself. the captain's shoulders slumped as he made the only move he could, watching as the game went to the lieutenant. Falman took Havoc's last piece and smiled.
"Well, you turned out to be quite the strategist, Lt. Falman." The general said, impressed by Falman's win. Falman grinned at him, but that soon faded as Gen. Mustang said, "Now you can face the Lt. Colonel, if you're up to it." Both turned to look at me.
My shoulders slumped. I was the reigning champion of checkers in our squad, and I was tired of people challenging me or volunteering me for a game. However, I hadn't played Falman before. Presumably, he was too afraid of me. As it should be. Havoc got up and offered his seat to me. Falman had begun sweating, but his mouth was set. It would certainly be a change to play Falman. Sitting down in the seat Havoc had vacated, I waited as Falman reset the board. The general leaned back and put his hands behind his head. Havoc went to sit next to Falman on the two-seater.
When the game was ready, General Mustang sat up to watch us, amusement in his eyes. I know he was looking forward to my struggle, but I wouldn't lose tonight. For the first few moves, Falman and I danced around each other, each trying to gauge the other's skills. I knew I could handle him. He may have been able to beat Havoc, but he was too subtle in his attacks. The red pieces piled up next to me. It was only a few minutes in that I realized what Falman was doing. He was going for the queen, and I couldn't stop him anymore. I was too confident, and I had missed that crucial factor. I backed off, trying to cover my tracks. I heard the general snicker, seeing my mistake. Falman was very good, better than any of the others I'd played against since we'd been here, but he had lost too many pieces to win outright, and he knew this, from the way his mouth set into a frown. He couldn't pull off the same strategy he had on Havoc. But it would be difficult for me to pull out a win, as well.
The game continued for an hour, and Havoc had fallen asleep on the couch, mouth wide open with drool dripping onto his sleeve. We'd gone back to dancing around each other, knowing that any more drastic moves would result in losing. Finally, the general stood up. "Just call it a draw, Colonel." He said, stretching his arms. "There's no shame in coming to a draw in checkers." I knew the general preferred chess, and thought of checkers as a child's game, but checkers allowed for more direct strategies, whereas chess was full of deception. I grimaced and sighed. I couldn't give up that easily. If I just moved this piece here-
Falman sat back suddenly, disturbing Havoc's sleep. Sighing, he said, "I concede, Lt. Colonel." I looked up in surprise. He grinned sheepishly at me, and began clearing the board. I straightened my back, which I had been gradually hunching over as I'd gotten more absorbed by the game. "Maybe next time, we'll play it out to the end." The general nudged Havoc, who groaned.
"It's time we went to our bunks." Gen. Mustang said, heading toward the door. "Good night, everyone." I heard him go into the main room, where Breda was still arguing over the radio. I glanced over at Black Hayate and Chise, who'd completely conked out. I smiled at them, looking so peaceful together, something I knew I could never have.
Falman saluted me, bringing me out of my drifting mind. I let out a small sigh and saluted him back. After that little show of respect, Falman pulled Havoc up by the arm, pushing him off to the room the four men under Gen. Mustang shared. I headed out down the hallway to my room. I was one of the few who got their own room, partially because of my rank, and partially because of my sex. Gen. Mustang was waiting for me next to my door, something he wasn't known to do.
"Can I help you, General?" I asked, reaching into my pocket for my keys.
The general didn't say anything for a while, but I didn't push him. He would say it when he was ready to, whatever it was. Sure enough, after a moment, he said, "What I said to Scar tonight, I should have warned you." I was a bit surprised. Surely, he knew me well enough to know that I would not object.
I unlocked my door as I said, "It's fine, sir." I heard him let out a deep breath, and I looked up at him, worriedly.
He was looking far away from this place, through the floorboards, with the smile of a tired man. "We've seen a lot, together, haven't we?" he asked. I didn't say anything, knowing he was just saying something for the sake of connecting with me. He pushed off of the wall, and began walking away, patting my shoulder as he did so. "Sleep well, Lt. Colonel." I watched as he walked away, remembering how he'd changed from the boy poring over alchemy notes on the kitchen table. Opening my door, I smiled. I'd stay with him until the end, whatever that end turned out to be.