Riza Hawkeye had blood on her hands.

So much so, that it was dripping…

"Edward, stop!"

When she had heard Havoc yell, Riza's focus immediately went to the young blond boy that had dashed recklessly into battle. Turning back to the men she had been dealing with, she fired a few more shots: one shot into a man's shoulder and the other into one's kneecap.

As she turned her attention back to the boy, she was horrified to see that he had been pinned beneath one of them.

Leaving her cover, she promptly threw herself into the fray, ignoring the bullets that whizzed past her and grazed her. Because right here and now, her only focus was the boy and the man that towered above him.

As she closed in on him like a predator upon prey, her eyes were drawn directly to the shining black object in the hand he had pressed against his back. When she opened her mouth to command him to stop, he began to draw it out behind him, his wild-eyed stare honed in on the boy that struggled frantically beneath him.

She knew that look all too well…

As she skidded to a stop mere feet from him, she raised her gun in conjunction with his.

At that moment that indiscriminate man became everything to her.

Her focus.

Her drive.

Her prey.

Riza narrowed her eyes as he turned toward her, a mixture of madness and surprise painted across his face. Yet, despite her presence, his arm still rose slowly to point the object in his hands at the young boy beneath him.

When he had turned fully to face him, his feral eyes now resting on her, she heard a scream resonating through the air, begging her to stop.

But it was too far past that point to back down now.

Because the threat had to be eliminated.

Moments after she pulled the trigger, the man fell, his life gone before he hit the ground.

Now that the threat was gone, Riza tossed her gun to the side and fell to her knees in front of Edward. His widened, shocked eyes seemed to stare through her for a moment before focusing on her face. As she reached up, she murmured his name over and over again.

At long last he looked her in the eye, his golden eyes reflecting disgust and resentment as he muttered something under his breath.

"Edward," she asked, leaning in again to place a hand on the boy's pallid cheek.

Slapping her hand away, the boy hissed, "Don't touch me you… you cold-blooded murderer!"

She had been called many things before…

Monster.

Demon.

Killer.

Murderer…

If she could pick, she would much rather prefer being called a monster or demon; because at least monsters and demons were not predisposed to killing.

So when she heard that young, innocent boy utter that word, it brought everything crashing back down on her.

When he had opted to return to headquarters in the other car, she could not help but feel relieved. After that display, she was confident the young boy would not want to be in her presence.

Upon returning to HQ, the Colonel insisted that she get checked out by their ward's nurse.

Normally she would fight him tooth and nail. Any abrasions on her body had merely been surface wounds; nothing a bandage and antiseptic couldn't fix. This time, however, she immediately obeyed and briskly made her way to the medical ward.

Just as she suspected, physical wounds she received were all superficial. The nurse was quick to prescribe her an antibiotic and send her on her way.

Her physical wounds would soon heal, but her emotional ones were a completely different story.

Riza hadn't realized that she had deviated from her path until she found herself standing in an empty office. She was now alone with her thoughts.

And at that moment, it hit her.

It was the first time since the war that she had killed someone.

She killed someone today… and it wasn't because of an order.

She had done it of her own volition, of her own choice. She chose at that moment to extinguish the flame that was that man's soul.

Murderer…

The young boy's voice was quick to reenter her mind. It stung. It burned.

Murderer…

Leaning heavily against the wall, she raised her hand to cover her eyes and bit back a sob.

Murderer.

She did not raise her head when she heard a set of steps, one footfall louder and heavier than the other. There was no need to. She knew who it was.

When the young boy sat down next to her, she remained silent, just as he did. Riza knew why he was there, but there was no need for him to be. He did nothing wrong.

After she had shed a few tears, she forgave herself. Either way a life would have been taken. In that single sliver of time, she was in control.

And she chose the one that meant more to her. She did not, and would never, regret this.

After clearing his throat, Edward murmured, "I'm sorry…"

She reached up and pushed the towel she had draped over her head back over her shoulders in order to look at him. In that moment, the way he sat, with his legs curled up to his chest and his eyes down on the ground, he looked so vulnerable and… small.

"You don't have to be sorry, Edward," she replied softly.

He shook his head back and forth and said, "I… I shouldn't have said that. It was inappropriate and disrespectful and completely uncalled for…" He paused for a moment to collect himself, though it was clear the task was proving to be difficult. "I-I just reacted. I di-didn't realize what co-could have happened; what al-almost happened."

The shock he was feeling was evident; his voice quivering and his body shaking as he spoke.

He was confused, hurt, scared; everything a twelve-year-old boy should feel in such a situation.

Removing her arm from her side, she gently reached up and around him, laying it across her shoulders.

The boy's body shuddered and his breath hitched. A moment later, he turned toward her and buried his face into her shoulder, a sob erupting from his lips.

Riza responded by drawing him closer, rubbing small circles on his shoulder as she rested her cheek against the top of his head.

The two of them remained there like that for nearly ten minutes, and Riza dared not move an inch. She would stay with the young boy for as long as he needed.

Finally Edward's sobs were quieted, replaced instead by small hiccups and gasps as he tried to catch his breath. When she felt that he had calmed down enough, she whispered, "Are you feeling better now?"

The youth paused for a moment, and then quickly nodded his head.

She knew that he was lying, however. Despite what the young boy thought, he was exceptionally easy to read.

He seemed to catch on that she knew he was lying, because a moment later he raised his head to look at her. And when her eyes met his, Edward's brows raised, as if in surprise.

"It's okay to feel the way that you do, Edward. I don't blame you," she said softly. His eyes flickered with doubt, but she had to make him understand. "You know… I reacted the same way you did when I was first shipped out. I was on the battlefield less than five minutes when I saw someone felled right in front of me."

It was true. It seemed that as soon as she stepped off the transport vehicle that had brought her there, a greater force forced her to witness her first violent death.

When she saw that civilian fall, watch the life drain from his eyes, she panicked. Dropped to her knees and threw down her gun. She couldn't do it. She couldn't take a life!

But when the gunman responsible approached her, he had grabbed her roughly beneath the arm and thrust her gun back into her arms and told her to 'suck it up. This was war.'

But his eyes… His cold and ruthless eyes were all that she saw.

She didn't want to be like him. Didn't want eyes like his. She couldn't take a life!

But here she was, now a seasoned killer comforting a broken boy.

A broken boy that mirrored herself.

"I… I just don't think I'm cut out for this… I just don't think I can do it… Take someone's life," Edward hiccupped as he wiped his eyes.

She could tell him to 'suck it up.' Get over it. It happens. This is the military!

But what good would that accomplish…? What good would it do to continue this vicious cycle of denial?

She could change it, though. She could stop this madness… With him.

"And I would never expect you to."

Edward's eyes widened in surprise, his mouth hanging slightly ajar.

"I did not have the luxury of deciding whether or not I could take a life; it was simply expected of me. As it stands right now, you have that choice. You may not always have it; you may someday be faced without one. But at this moment, your hands are clean and I will do everything in my power to make sure they stay that way. I want to see you and Alphonse get your bodies back and I want to see you two live long and happy lives."

He closed his mouth for a moment and then opened it again. Raising his sleeve to his eyes yet again, he argued, "It still doesn't erase what I said."

"You're right," Riza agreed. "It doesn't erase what you said. But that doesn't mean I don't accept your apology. Like I said, Edward, I understand why you said those words.

"If anything, I should apologize for allowing you to be put in that position. Had I been there sooner, he may not have decided to follow through with what he was intending to do."

The young blond shook his head and sniffled. "But you didn't know what would happen until at that moment. I understand now why you did what you did…"

Understanding his silent desire to regain his composure, she sat back and kept her arm draped around his shoulder. As he leaned into her, she too leaned into him, taking comfort in this display of forgiveness.

After a few minutes she felt him shift. Pulling her arm away, she watched as Edward got to his feet and whirled around, shooting her a big and toothy grin. Extending his flesh hand toward her, he gestured for her to take it.

When Riza accepted it, he pulled her to her feet and the two of them headed toward the door.

She saw the boy steal a glance at her as they made their way back toward the Colonel's office. When she was sure he had looked away, she too glanced at him. And as she watched him out of the corner of her eye, she made a silent vow to herself: To protect this boy and his innocence for as long as she physically could.

She remembers the expression he wore when she handed him her gun. His younger brother Alphonse was quick to point out that it was a tool for killing and ruin, though she was quick to correct him, saying that it was a tool for protection.

She could see the pain in his eyes as he struggled internally with her description of the object in her hand. But after deliberating and considering it, he agreed to take it, pocketing it as he did so.

Now here he was, sitting in front of her as he recounted everything that had gone down. She listened intently as she dismantled the gun and soaked it in oil, silently taking note that a few bullets were missing.

He admitted that he had fired a few shots, but he "couldn't" shoot anyone… He couldn't pull the trigger, even when his friends were in danger. He had chastised himself, calling himself pathetic as he explained that his lack of resolve always caused trouble for those around him.

Edward went on to describe how he and his friend Ling found themselves in the belly of that beast they had fought at the safe house.

Pathetic, he kept on saying. Pathetic. Pathetic. Pathetic.

Riza was quick to correct him. He was by no means pathetic, simply berating himself only because he made it back in one piece. She told him that, despite struggling under his burdens, he needed to continue to live for those that he loves.

The gun only added to his burden, it seemed, and for that she was truly sorry.

When he had considered her words, she saw as he worked up the courage to ask her. She knew it was coming, for it was only a matter of time before he asked. So when he did ask about her burdens, she showed no sign of surprise, blatantly telling him that she herself had no right to complain about the weight she carried on her back. It was her and only her that chose the path she embarked on.

Again he grew quiet, thinking carefully about what he was going to say next. Then he asked her about Ishval; the Colonel had outright refused to whenever he asked.

Riza was brutally honest. Had he asked this years ago, she too would have dodged the question, or at least lightened the blow in some way. But she knew that he had grown, and she knew that it was something he could handle.

So she told him everything she knew, leaving out no detail.

And she had been right… To an extent. He did handle it well, but did not understand when she told him that they would be deemed criminals of war the moment Amestris became a democracy.

He argued with her and begged her to reconsider that notion. Didn't she want a happy life as well?

Of course she did. There wasn't a day that went by where Riza didn't think about living a long and happy life with the man she loved… But this was the burden of her generation. If they had to carry it on their backs to prevent his generation from suffering, then they would do it.

She had been quick to change the subject after that, reminding him to worry about himself and his friends. She, like many of the people they knew, was eager for the two siblings to reclaim their bodies.

After that, the two of them chatted idly, leaving the subject of Ishval in the back of their minds the entire time. And when it was time for Edward to leave, she saw a glimmer of sadness in his eyes, which she attempted to rectify with a simple smile.

After gaining her assurance that she'd be careful and a wave later, he turned on his heels and made his way down the hallway.

But before closing the door, Riza lingered and leaned against the threshold, watching as he left. She could not help but notice how much he had grown since he first joined the military, noting his slight increase in height and the broadness of his shoulders.

And the way he carried himself was so unlike the cocky yet vulnerable young boy that she had first met three years ago. He had become so much more confident, and yet he himself did not realize it.

As her eyes lingered down to his hands, she could not help but notice how clean they were.

With a content sigh, she stepped back and closed the door, locking it once it had clicked shut. After turning back around to face her box-filled apartment, her eyes immediately went to the gun she had left on the table. Walking over to it, she grasped it and held it up, examining it. When she found a stray spot of blood, she scratched at it with her fingernail, chipping it away bit by bit.

It was easy to remove blood from a gun. Her hands, however, were a different story because…

Riza Hawkeye had blood on her hands.

So much, in fact, that it was dripping…

But Edward… His hands were still clean.

And for that, she could not be more proud…

A/N: So that ends this little two-shot piece. Hope you enjoyed!

To those of you that read Pressure Point, there was a line in there that foreshadows something that will happen in the final few chapters. Just food for thought ;D