Interlude
(triste)
The sheets were rough against his back, but her skin was soft. She smelled of lilacs and gunpowder. He could not imagine anything sweeter. As she rose above him, her face grew blurred, but he felt her weight all the same. A deeply-seated affection radiated through his body. His muscles tightened in anticipation as she leaned down again. He could think of nothing other than tasting her lips even as she pressed her breasts against him and her hair brushed his shoulders. The scent of gunpowder and lilacs threatened to suffocate him, but he did not care. Her body felt so much like a home he no longer had. He hated to leave her and feared the hole she'd leave behind even more than the creeping ivy that would hide her from him when he woke.
As he started to drift away, she whispered, "Don't go where I can't follow."
The dreams were growing worse. They'd moved beyond the typical nocturnal emissions of a man who hadn't taken anyone to bed in quite a long time and into an exploration of subconscious desires that made the hair on his arms prickle with unnerving anticipation.
Matching a living presence to the woman in his mind had cracked open a Pandora's Box, and Roy was reeling. He needed to see her again. Before he would seek her out, though, he'd satisfy his itching curiosity. That name. Hawkeye wasn't exactly common. Roy had spent years studying under Berthold Hawkeye, and he couldn't recall the man ever having a daughter. Surely at some point he would've met her or seen a scrap of her belongings. Perhaps Riza Hawkeye wasn't a daughter at all but a cousin or other distant relation. That explanation didn't feel right either.
If she was, in fact, his daughter, it would be incredibly rude of him to show up at Miss Hawkeye's place of work and dredge up memories of her dead father. Despite the spots in his memory that had grown hazy with age, he remembered Master Hawkeye well, and it was entirely possible her absence during his apprenticeship was intentional. The man had been just short of mad. Roy couldn't imagine the subject being pleasant for her, and he decided to steer clear until he could think of an approach that wouldn't offend her.
Four months after the warehouse incident that still seemed to be a talking point around headquarters, a stack of official yellow envelopes several inches thick were delivered to his office. Havoc complained about the amount of paperwork the colonel's injuries, hospitalization, and the mission itself had generated. Roy told him to start interviewing secretaries if he didn't want to handle the clerical work anymore. His lieutenant gave him a loaded glance he chose to ignore. It was becoming a habit – both the glances and his disregard of them.
Roy brought the final reports home to study over the glass of whiskey he couldn't indulge with in the office. At first he thought he'd had too many drinks; however, when her name appeared, not once but repeatedly throughout the documents, Roy had to step away from the liquor. First Lieutenant Riza Hawkeye, adjutant. The words swam on the page, and he felt dizzy. He knew her! Or, at least, he should have. She'd, apparently, served under him for the better part of a decade, and yet when he'd met her, there'd been nothing but a clumsy exchange of words and a brief conversation about the spring weather. If he hadn't been so taken with her, he wouldn't have bothered to try and catch her name at all.
Why had she acted as if he'd been a stranger? Did she not remember him either? What kind of bullshit was this?
As he flipped through the pages furiously, he found only a few answers. In her final statement, Lieutenant Hawkeye described finding him in the basement, bleeding profusely from a gunshot wound to the torso, and she'd been the one to haul him to the ground floor, where Lieutenant Havoc radioed for a med-evac. While he was sedated and undergoing two separate surgeries to repair damage, she quietly retired. Roy found it odd that her resignation had gone through so quickly, but even more unsettling that he did not remember working with her in the slightest.
His frustration peaked around midnight, and as Roy walked away from the mess of papers, he decided to have a private chat with his remaining lieutenant as soon as possible.
"She threatened me," Havoc said matter-of-factly.
"She threatened you." Roy's eye twitched. "I don't believe you."
Jean shrugged. "Not just me, everybody on the team."
"But why?" His head felt full of spider webs.
"Listen, boss," Havoc began slowly, "you weren't in good shape when Ri- Lieutenant Hawkeye dragged you out of that basement." He leaned back in his chair. "Frankly, she wasn't either. The whole thing felt… weird. We had to wait for the warehouse to be cleared by the scout team before the medics could get in, and it was damn near an hour. I'm surprised you made it."
"Why don't I remember any of this?"
"I don't know, but you were drenched in blood. It was all over her, too."
"Get to the part where my adjutant retires without a word to me and threatens the rest of my team not to mention any of it."
Havoc eyed him for a long, silent moment before exhaling heavily. "She couldn't handle you not remembering her."
"Why? If she was just my aide… I mean, no one else left. I've checked the records, and only Falman isn't with us anymore, and that's not new." He intentionally left out that he knew she hadn't only been his aide but possibly the daughter of his alchemy master, and he very well should've known her since childhood.
"Sir, Riza wasn't just your aide. She wasn't just anything." Roy patiently watched Havoc twirl an unlit cigarette between his fingers before continuing. "You woke up briefly between operations. Do you remember?"
"I don't."
Jean nodded and went on. "She was there, and you looked at her like she was a total stranger. Her behavior was so out of character afterward, and if you ask me, she flunked that psych-eval on purpose." He sighed. "Anyway, she had this crazy idea that you'd never come around and the same look in her eye as when I found the two of you in that warehouse. It scared the fuck out of me." Jean shook his head and stuffed the cigarette back in his pocket. "I told her you'd snap out of it when you woke up fully, but she was so damn adamant. Two days before they took you out of sedation, her discharge packet came down, and she was gone."
Roy said nothing and drummed his fingers on the desktop.
"She made it clear to Furey and I that you were to be allowed your own space and time to remember anything that hadn't been taken-"
"Taken?"
"Weird word choice, I know, but that's what she said. She swore we'd get a bullet to the head if we breathed a word about her outside of necessary work-related topics."
"What about Breda?"
"He wasn't there, but I passed the message along."
"And my information officer was just okay with that?"
Havoc shrugged again. "We've been a team for a long time, sir. When Hawkeye gives an order, we follow it. She never answered to anyone but you."
"Why haven't I ever heard her name until now? Surely someone else here at headquarters noticed her absence? Something?"
For the first time in the conversation, his lieutenant shifted in his seat. "You and Hawkeye… well, people talked. When she retired, assumptions were made, and I doubt anyone wanted to bring her up in front of you."
"Fraternization gossip is always a hot topic; what makes this any different?"
"Like I said, boss, Riza was never just your adjutant."
"So my own team had assumptions?"
"Well, I know I did, but we never had a water cooler discussion about it. We all just figured it wasn't our business." Havoc narrowed his eyes. "Why the third degree, Colonel? You could've gotten all of this information from any one of your sources around town, and I know you took that dossier home last night. What's with you?"
It was Roy's turn to feel uncomfortable. "It's nothing, Lieutenant. You're dismissed."
"Dismissed, my ass. You saw her, didn't you?" Jean barked out a laugh and instantly quieted. "Did you talk to her? What did she say to you?"
"Her dog jumped on me like he knew me, so I guess now I know why." Roy paused. "She didn't say anything to me a polite stranger wouldn't."
"Did you remember anything?"
"No… but she gave me her name when I asked, and it rang a very old bell." Havoc quirked an eyebrow, and Roy stood from his desk. "We'll discuss this more later. For now, let's just carry on as before until I can figure this shit out." His lieutenant nodded, and he went on. "How's the hunt for a secretary going?"
"Nicely. I found one second lieutenant who actually prefers the skirt, and she's coming in today for an interview."
Roy sighed. "I need someone who's more than just easy to look at, Havoc. Don't make me do the interviews myself."
"Roger that, boss," he said with a wink, and left Roy alone in his office.
After requesting a personal copy of the incident report, Roy returned the packet to the records office. He considered pulling Lieutenant Hawkeye's file, but it felt invasive. He'd much rather speak to her in person.
Confronting her was easier in theory than practice. In the end, it was the persistent dreams that forced his hand. The morning he found himself sitting on a bench outside the bookshop where he knew she worked had followed a night filled with the same style of blurry but highly charged images. Roy had gotten no sleep and, eventually, given up.
When he spotted her rounding a corner at the end of the block, his heart sped up to a painful gallop. Inexplicably, he wanted to be closer to her. To touch her. Now that he was aware they had a history together, her mannerisms made a lot more sense, and he could spot her tells. She paused some distance from him, but her dog didn't show the same caution. The animal tugged on its leash and clearly would've tangled him the way he had before if given half a chance.
"I'm sorry, but we don't open for another hour," she said quietly. Roy chuckled and gave her some points for efforts at ignorance.
"I think you know I'm not here for books, Miss Hawkeye."
She sighed and reached inside her jacket pocket for a set of keys. "I suppose I do. Come in, if you like." Roy followed her inside and watched as she puttered around the small shop and kitchen. The kettle didn't take long, and she joined him at the table in the back office. Miss Hawkeye didn't ask before adding a bag of black tea to his cup.
"How do you know I prefer black?"
"I've been making your tea for a long time, Colonel; I know how you take it."
"Why did you leave?"
"Have you remembered, then? I didn't think that would be possible."
"No, but you've been dancing around in my head while I sleep for months. I guess you could say I recognized you when we met before." Roy grinned. "You're very good at that poker face, Miss Hawkeye, but you can't bullshit a bullshitter. You name-dropped on purpose."
Her lips twitched into a half-smile. "Good to know you're still as cunning as ever."
"Answer my question." After a moment, he added quietly, "Please? I didn't know I was so lost until I found you." The words tumbled forth quicker than he could stop them, but they weren't untrue.
He watched as he face crumbled. "Oh, Roy." The use of his first name felt like it should be more disarming. It wasn't. "I thought it would be easier if I left."
"On me?"
She smiled softly. "I wish I could be a better person and say yes. But no. I meant easier for me. I'm selfish, I guess."
"Miss Hawkeye-"
"Please don't call me that. I told you ages ago to call me Riza."
"I don't remember."
"I know."
They sat in an oddly comfortable silence, and as the minutes ticked away, his desire to be near her didn't waver. He was stuck in a visceral reaction, and he vastly preferred it to the incertitude he'd been experiencing as of late. Even though Roy knew the puzzle hadn't been solved, he didn't seem as preoccupied by it. He thought it was enough that she had the pieces in her pocket. He didn't necessarily need to see them yet.
Riza stood and placed both empty teacups in the sink. She opened her mouth to speak, but a phone rang in another room and she motioned for him to wait. Her small dog had curled around his feet and nuzzled into his hand when he reached down to scratch between its ears. When she returned to the kitchenette, she leaned against the doorframe and watched him interact with the dog.
"I think he likes me." Roy smiled up at her.
"He always did." She stood behind the chair she'd previously occupied and fidgeted with the weaving on the back. "Now isn't the best time to have the conversation I know you really want. I promise I'll answer any questions, but not here."
"You name a time and place, and I'll be there."
Riza handed him a folded piece of notebook paper. "That's my address. You can come by after four this afternoon, and we'll talk."
Several times that day, his hand stole into his pocket and touched the note - just to be sure it was real. Everything about his conversation with her that morning seemed outrageously strange. Being around her was unexpectedly calming. Anxiety he hadn't been aware of melted away, and Roy didn't want to leave. If she'd always provided him with such addictive company, he could understand how they'd managed to work fluidly together for so many years. High ranking officers didn't often keep long-standing adjutants. His working relationship with Hawkeye had apparently been exceptional.
The masochist in him waited until half-past-five to knock on her door. He didn't want to seem too eager. When she pulled her front door open, Roy was immediately intoxicated. Her feet were bare, and the strands of hair that brushed his naked chest nearly every night in his dreams flowed tantalizingly over her shoulders. Roy stuffed his hands in his pockets for fear of touching it.
Her apartment was small but seemed to suit her. Riza busied herself with tea, and he couldn't help but absorb the aura of familiarity she had around him. Even if he couldn't remember ever seeing her in person before a week or so ago, she clearly felt at home in his presence.
"I meant what I said this morning, Colonel." She pressed a cup of tea into his hand. "You can ask me anything."
He joined her on the small patio overlooking a quiet side-street. "I don't want to upset you, but I have to know. Are you Berthold Hawkeye's daughter?"
"I am." She didn't offer any explanations.
"And you were my personal adjutant for a long time."
"I was."
"How did that happen? Master Hawkeye hated the military, and I had to pry flame alchemy out of him once he'd realized what kind of career path I'd chosen for myself."
Riza's lips twitched. "And how did that prying go?"
"Well, I-" Roy paused. "Eventually, he-" His head cocked to the side. "It's been a long time. Forgive me. Details are hazy."
"My father didn't give you his research, Roy."
"But-"
"I did."
"I don't remember that."
"I know."
"You say that a lot."
"I'm sorry. I'm not trying to be obtuse or aggravating. I just think it's important I only give you what you ask me for. Some things can't be unsaid."
"The things I've done with what I learned-"
"I was there, too."
Roy stared at her, agape. So he'd dragged her with him into hell. He felt her hand lightly on his shoulder.
"You don't have to hide anything. I know what goes on in that head of yours, and you don't have to keep it hidden. Not from me. I promised I'd never let you do anything like that again."
"But you left. How could you be sure I wouldn't?"
Riza's eyes avoided him. "I told you I was selfish. Walking out on you was probably the second most selfish thing I've ever done."
"The second?"
She finally looked at him and sighed quietly. "We were never perfect, Roy. Hurting each other is sometimes what we do."
Roy watched the sun set and finished his tea, even though it had gone completely cold. She took his cup and headed inside. He followed after a moment.
"When can I see you again?" He hated that the question felt like he was asking for a second date.
Riza smiled softly. "I only work mornings so I'm usually home around the same time every day."
"Does that mean I can come anytime?"
"It does."
"You don't have other commitments?"
"Only the dog, and he isn't nearly as much trouble as you used to be." The flirtatious tone of her voice made his cheeks warm.
If Roy had been any more focused on his work, he'd have missed Havoc's comment regarding the uptake in his productivity altogether. Of course it has to do with Hawkeye. She's the only one who could ever get him to do anything.
He should've known better than to expect his lieutenant to keep the secret of his association with Riza quiet. Havoc was a drinker, and Breda his wingman. It was astounding he'd managed not to let the cat out of the bag sooner; three weeks of privacy was an Olympic-level accomplishment for Havoc. Apparently, Roy's penchant for avoiding paperwork was a perfected art, and it wasn't at all hard to believe Riza kept him on track in the past.
More often than he'd care to admit, Roy found his thoughts lingering on her during the day, or really, whenever he wasn't in her company. At first he hadn't wanted to intrude on her personal time, but it was becoming routine to spend his evenings at her apartment. She didn't seem to mind his frequent visits, and her sad smiles were slowly giving way to more thoughtful glances and twitches of her lip that he could swear were actual grins.
Roy hadn't the courage to ask about her confidence in his memories of them never returning, nor had he insisted on more details from her Promised Day recollections. More shocking than the source of the scar on her neck was how completely wrong his remembrance of that day was. Perhaps wrong was not the right word. It felt more like a corruption. The sequence of events were muddled in some areas, and Roy realized he hadn't actually pondered on the memory at all until he'd met Riza.
Even more troubling were all the slightly scrambled areas of his life that he simply hadn't thought about. Had he been in a trance until the afternoon when her dog leapt on his leg and tangled him in the leash? The mystery of it made his head ache.
His dreams did not abate, and Roy hadn't the first clue how to broach that subject. He enjoyed their friendship and didn't want to put her off with a confession of the sex dreams she starred in. Whatever the depth of their professional relationship and history surrounding his old alchemy master, he was fairly certain his feelings toward her didn't end with either. The way his body responded to her seemed beyond his conscious control, and he didn't exactly hate it – confusing as it was. Riza gave nothing away on her end. Clearly, she was a woman who held her cards close to her chest, and Roy was itching to know if one of them was his.
"You look pale," she stated plainly before inviting him inside.
"I'm afraid I gave myself a bad headache today." He fell onto her couch and closed his eyes.
"What happened?"
"I dug through all my alchemy texts last night and stayed up too late. My office is a mess."
Riza pressed a cold glass of water into his hand. "Why?"
"I was trying to remember something." He drank the water down and set the glass aside before turning towards her. "I don't have a single scrap of paper with your dad's research on it. Not a note, or a quick scratch… nothing. I'm sorry."
She reached out to straighten the collar of his shirt absently. "Why are you sorry?"
"Because I've lost something important."
"You didn't lose anything."
"If those notes got into the wrong hands-"
"They can't and won't."
"How can you be sure?"
The sad smile he hated filled her eyes with a tortured emotion. "I have to show you something."
Before he could prepare himself, she stood, turned her back to him, and pulled her t-shirt over her head. He watched as she swept her hair to one side and revealed something he could not believe he'd ever forgotten. Apart from two swaths of ruined skin, the array was in perfect condition. Roy stepped close to her, and without his permission, his fingers ghosted over the tattoo. The burn scars itched at him.
"Did I…"
Riza turned to him, her chest covered by her arms. "I asked you to do it when the war was over. I begged you to ruin the entire thing, but you promised me no one would be able to translate what remained." She stared up at him with haunted eyes. "I trusted you. I still do."
His lungs felt tight, and he did not think as he drew her against him. The motion felt more right than anything else in his miserable life. Her arms wrapped around him, and her embrace was fiercely tight.
"Why is my closet half-empty?" He breathed into her hair. "Why is my apartment so big? Why do I dream about you every night, and-" Roy looked down at her and brushed a thumb over her bottom lip. "Why do I want to kiss you?"
"I didn't want to leave," she whispered, "but it would've broken my heart to stay." Her words were choked with unshed tears. "It broke anyway."
He was caught in her gravitational pull, and the urge to kiss her would not relent. Roy swiftly pressed his lips to hers and felt a few loose pieces inside his head slide into place. He loved her. Her fingers feathered through his hair, and his scalp tingled at her touch. Later, he would reflect on the peculiar sensation of one's hands remembering expanses of skin the mind did not.
Riza pulled him into her bedroom, and he did not resist. He could not. He was completely overwhelmed with that maddeningly vague familiarity that fluttered just out of reach, urging him to follow, and the desperate way she clung to him clawed at his heart. Roy didn't dare close his eyes. He wanted to see her and make sure neither one of them drifted away this time. His dreams hadn't done her justice.