4. Rivalry
If anyone were to ask any of the Eastern soldiers about their thoughts were on the Northern/Eastern joint training, they would receive much of the same answers. The Eastern forces were better equipped to handle offensive measures and tactics, and they were nearly unparalleled in strategy with minds such as Lieutenant General Grumman and Lieutenant Colonel Mustang calling the shots.
But that wasn't saying that the Northern forces weren't formidable. They were just specialized towards defensive rather than the offensive. Mercy wasn't something that was associated with Briggs Bears. Nor was it something that was ever considered to be a trait of their Major General Armstrong. They were fierce and loyal, something that was feared and respected by the rest of the military.
That was the answer soldiers would normally give. When the joint training exercises were held within the familiar dry territory of the Eastern region. Ask the men any questions while they were in the north, the answers given were something completely different.
"I can't feel my face anymore," some would say, with the red cheeks and frosted beards to corroborate what they said.
Others would complain about feeling as if certain parts of anatomy had shrunk, which would lead to the expected teasing from his squadmates that would devolve into childish taunts. The behavior exasperated their superiors, but even if just a moment, it took everyone's minds off of the freezing cold.
It was supposed to be spring. This was not spring. Spring was the smell of fresh blossoms on the trees, the sounds of children splashing in the melted runoff, and the sight of dirt everywhere as many people started planting in their gardens and on their farms again. Not the sight of snow piled as high as one-story houses and the overall freezing temperatures.
"Has anyone seen Lieutenant Colonel Mustang?" Second Lieutenant Hawkeye asked as she made her way through the tables of the mess hall that feed all of the Eastern troops.
Most didn't answer her. They were too busy attempting to ingest as much hot coffee as was allowed. Some managed to look up to answer her, but all of their answers were the same.
No one had seen the Lieutenant Colonel.
It wouldn't be anything to be concerned about if they were back in East City. Hawkeye knew his habits as well as she knew the man. She knew where he would go in Eastern Command if he needed a few moments to get away from everything being a colonel meant, to allow himself a moment to be human. She also knew when he would be out with one of his 'dates' and when he would be engaging the Lieutenant General over a game of chess.
But this wasn't East City. This was Briggs, and she hadn't seen her charge since the night before when they separated to sleep in their bunks with the promise to meet up again before the final day of the training exercises.
Thanking the men for their patience, Hawkeye left the mess hall and went searching for him in the tunnels of Briggs. Perhaps something had happened in the night and he was called off to discuss in an urgent meeting. But he would have found someone to tell her where he was headed and approximately when he would be back.
Hawkeye was worried.
Not for his safety per se—she was always worried about his safety—but about his mental health. This particular bout of training exercises couldn't have come at a worse time. The first year mark since they returned from Ishval was near. She had been keeping a close eye on him in the previous weeks for any sign that something was amiss in her commanding officer. She needed to be there if he had a breakdown, to help him regain his footing and remind him of what he was working for now.
She had seen the small flinches when they started firing the anti-tank guns and kept a sharp eye on him whenever they were together. Her own scores probably weren't as high as what they could have been when it came to the sharpshooting, but she was highest scoring sniper and was congratulated heavily for it. It had even caught the attention of one Major General.
General Armstrong had approached her soon after that to offer her congratulations on besting her men. Hawkeye had managed to nod her head and politely say her thanks before the General walked away with a look of contemplation on her face.
Lieutenant Colonel Mustang was equal parts pleased and concerned when the subject came up at lunch the previous day thanks to Havoc.
Hawkeye walked swiftly through the dreary halls of the fort. He wouldn't leave without telling someone where he went. He had been sharing a bunk with Havoc, so it was likely that he told him where he was headed. Unless he took Havoc with him. Havoc was an efficient soldier, but didn't understand the small idiosyncrasies that Hawkeye did.
She was about to turn back and start her sweep again at the mess hall when voices caught her ear and her foot stilled. Eavesdropping was not the professional thing to do, but she thought that one of the voices sounded like the missing colonel she was searching for.
"What is it you would like to speak to me about General? I doubt you wish to discuss the tactics my Eastern forces used yesterday to best yours. Although if you were looking for some pointers, I would be happy enough to spend some time giving you some assis-"
"Keep your perverted flirting to yourself. I need none of your 'pointers' to best you in this rivalry between our regions. Every single one of my men are worth at least double than a single platoon of yours."
There was a growing tone of irritation in General Armstrong's voice. Hawkeye could imagine that the general was beginning to finger the sword that she kept by her side at all times. She crept closer to the door Armstrong and Mustang's voices were coming from. If she were caught eavesdropping on superior officers, her punishment wouldn't be lenient.
"Then what business do you have with me, if not for my dizzying intellect? Surely it wasn't just for my company? Because I'll have you know that anything between us simply wouldn't work."
Mustang was keeping the flirtatious facade up. It would get him nowhere with the general, but it would cement the facade he was attempting to build. If he could keep it up under the intimidating gaze, then there would be little reason to worry about his acting should inquires come up in the future.
"I'd say I'd rather find myself in the company of worms than you, but that would be an insult to the worms," the sneer in Major General Armstrong's voice was audible. There was a small pause before she continued speaking. "How well do you know Second Lieutenant Hawkeye?"
"Professionally, or personally?"
Hawkeye heard a guarded edge creep into Mustang's voice now. A dash of fear crept into Hawkeye's throat. The feeling puzzled her somewhat. What did she have to fear? Their relationship was strictly that of one between a superior and subordinate. Their personal histories about what had happened while he was an alchemic student of her father's held no ground to the way they behaved now. There was nothing to hide on their parts.
Even if there had been some strange occurrences when she was within his company at times. Like the time when he had fallen asleep beside her on the train to Central. A bump in the tracks had him sliding down the seat to the point where his head rested on her shoulder. And rather than remove him, Hawkeye simply let him sleep there until their stop came up. She had almost been disappointed when she had to wake him to deboard the train.
"I would like to discuss with her the option of transferring up here, under my command." Armstrong didn't bother to answer the Lieutenant Colonel's question, getting straight to what it was that she wanted to talk about.
Hawkeye allowed herself a small inhalation through the nose. It wasn't loud enough to be a gasp or to be heard by those who were conversing behind the door, but it was a tiny break in the immaculate persona that was Second Lieutenant Hawkeye.
Her? Transfer north? To be under the Major General's command? The offer would be appealing for anybody else, plenty of opportunity for growth and to move up the chain of command. Not many wanted to command troops in the frozen wasteland that was the Northern territory. People were often isolated in the long winter months and only the strongest were able to survive it. According to Armstrong in any case.
But she couldn't. She wasn't looking to progress higher up the chain of command. She didn't want to lead men into battle. She was a sniper, a solitary individual. Even when she was a child she had mostly been off on her own. Besides, she had given her word to stand at Mustang's back and ensure that he made it as he pushed his way towards the top. That was her place in life.
Hawkeye's thoughts were so dominating, she nearly missed her commanding officer's response.
"No. There is no need for discussion. I can tell you right now, the answer will be no."
There was a scoff from the woman inside the room.
"Do you know her so well that you need not consult her before slamming the door in opportunity's face for her? Anyone can see that her talents are being wasted serving as your secretary. A sniper belongs in the field, not forcing a paper-pusher to do his work."
"Ask her if you must, but you will get the same response from her as you got from me. There will be no transfer of my lieutenant." His tone indicated that he was finished talking about the matter. Soon afterward, Hawkeye heard the familiar thud of his boots as he walked toward the door.
"Don't let your personal feelings cloud your judgement, Mustang. Feelings such as yours and the attempt to keep what's held most dear close will bring your downfall if you do not learn to reign them in. I would hate to lose a soldier such as Hawkeye because of your stupidity."
Mustang's footprints stopped just on the other side of the door. Hawkeye could almost see him with his hand resting on the handle and his face attempted to remain blank. Perhaps he would have turned his head to look at the general or perhaps he was staring resolutely at the door. Either way, he was most likely failing to keep some of the color from his face.
The sudden silence echoed for a few more seconds before Lieutenant Colonel Mustang responded quietly.
"As would I."
Mustang yanked the door open without waiting for a dismissal from the higher ranking officer and stepped out into the hall. The look of surprise only heightened the color in his cheeks when he saw she was standing nearby. Silently, he motioned for her to follow him.
As always, she fell two steps behind him as they headed toward the mess hall again.
They were about halfway there before Mustang did an about-face, grabbed her arms and directed her through the nearest door.
It was a janitorial closet.
Hawkeye barely opened her mouth to ask what he had dragged them into the closet for when he beat her to it.
"How much did you hear?" His head was bowed and his shaggy black hair blocked her from seeing his eyes.
Hawkeye swallowed before answering. "Since the pointers, sir."
Mustang swore and looked up at her face. His midnight blue eyes were desperate and searching as he took in every inch and curve of her face. His hands were still gripping tightly to her arms. Not enough to cause pain or bruising, but enough so she wouldn't be able to break his hold easily. The color that had been in his cheeks disappeared as his face paled.
"I apologize if what I said crossed the line in any manner. If I've overstepped my bounds as your commanding officer."
Hawkeye knew it was dangerous. She was shut inside a closet with her superior officer, on a foreign base where she didn't know any of the routines of the staff and soldiers that lived there. The door was unlocked and anyone could be able to walk inside and see the compromising position of the two officers in the closet. But it didn't matter. Gently she reached up and caressed his cheek with the back of her hand before resting her palm there. He unconsciously leaned into her hand.
"There's no need to apologize sir. I would have given the same answer. Sans the flirting."
Hawkeye felt his cheek twitch as a smile attempted to break through the mask on his face.
"But you should really be more careful about the way you answer requests like that. I doubt General Armstrong will bring up your small indiscretion, but she's not likely to forget it, and may use it against you in the future should you stand in her way."
Mustang's face slid into the familiar smirk she saw nearly every day.
"Then we best divert all of her attention towards the rivalry between the northern troops and the eastern troops then. She'll be too worried about not letting East win the training exercises to even think about my little mistake there."
Mustang's hands dropped from her arms to rest at his side before he moved suddenly and wrapped his arms around her. The sudden movement trapped one of her arms between them and the hand that had been resting on his cheek slid to rest behind him. His face was pressed into the space between her shoulders and her neck, as was hers. His smell was the same as when he had burned her back. Flint and a slight woodsy scent she recognized as his cologne.
Too soon he pulled away. He opened the door and peered into the hallway to check if the coast was clear for both of them to vacate the closet before stepping out and holding the door open for her. She gave him a faint smile as she passed through the open doorway and fell into step behind him as they strode towards the mess hall to grab whatever remained of breakfast.
Then they had one final day of the joint training to do, and they weren't about to let the victory go to Major General Armstrong.
A/N: I said that it wasn't going to take two months to get this one out didn't I? I can't make any claims as to when the next one will make it here, but hopefully school won't dominate every second of my life. Please leave a review, those really can make my day.
