Disclaimer: I do not own Fullmetal Alchemist or any related characters.
Chapter 14: Din
1. noun - a jumble of loud, usually discordant sounds
2. verb - the act of setting something in motion
3. noun - a noisy disturbance
4. verb - to make a resonant sound, like artillery
-o-o-o-
"Thank you, Sergeant, that will be all."
"Captain..." said Sergeant Kent, whose eyes skittered about the room as though afraid to stare at one thing for too long. Overturned furniture lay scattered in the main living space. A dark stain marred the floorboards leading into her bedroom. The team investigating her attack did little to tidy the area once through inspecting it. The sergeant swallowed loudly. "Are you sure...?"
"Yes," she said, though she was unable to meet his eyes. She found it difficult speaking with most of the soldiers lately. They had grown strangely protective of her, as though she were a fragile thing too helpless to be left alone. A part of her feared that might be true. She could not remember happened to her. Every time she thought back to that night, hoping to catch some remnant - something she could cling to - she found nothing. A great hole had been carved into her memory and replaced with nothing but black.
She heard of soldiers who could not recall traumatic events in their careers - things so life-altering and tragic they were forced to forget lest their mind shatter. But Riza's memory never failed her, even during her time in Ishval. As much as she wished it, buried in the heat and violence of war, she could never forget what happened. What she did. Each day of that living nightmare was branded in her mind, clear and vivid as though it happened only moments before.
"Captain..." Kent had a bland, earnest sort of face. It was familiar to her, though she never met the young man before today. Many of her fellow cadets wore similar expressions when they started their military training: unblemished and innocent like a fresh sheet of paper. It made Hawkeye feel war-hardened - ancient before her time. "Are you sure you don't want someone to guard...?"
"I'm sure," Riza said, stepping into her apartment, careful to avoid the shattered wood strewn over the floor. It was the remnants of one of her chairs, she realized . She wondered briefly how that happened. It frightened her that she did not know. "That will be all, Sergeant. Thank you."
The young man lingered on the doorstep, shifting from foot to foot until Hawkeye sent him a severe look. The sergeant paled. "Yes, ma'am," he muttered before turning away.
She waited for the sound of bootsteps to fade before she turned back to the ruin that was her former apartment. The stillness inside seemed thick, almost roaring in her ears. It was incredible that she slept soundly in this place only five days before. The room was now transformed; someplace sinister. She would find no rest here, but perhaps she could find some clue of what happened to her. Something the investigative team missed - a remaining trace that might jog her memory. Hawkeye stepped through the living area, carefully placing her feet between the shards of wood.
Her days in the infirmary were not easy - more painful than those she spent in the hospital after the Promised Day. She hated being idle, and this time it was worsened by an overwhelming feeling of helplessness. The doctors forbade her from returning to work for at least a week, and Falman was so wrapped in his new duties he hardly had a moment to spare to brief her on the latest news in camp. The only thing she could glean from the Lieutenant was that Mustang returned to his post as general, quietly and without incident. As of yet, things were peaceful between the Ishvalan and Amestrian camps. She wondered how long that would last.
Breda woke several times over the past three days, but only to fits of delirium. He reached for things that were not there and cried out for the others - sometimes Havoc, other times Falman - begging for their help. He called for Mustang, too. Riza heard him from across the hall late one night. She could not help but curl in guilt at the fear and uncertainty in his voice. Fuery took up a near-permanent post at his bedside, in case the lieutenant unknowingly reveal the true nature of his injuries. They were living a lie, concealing the truth for a man they were no longer sure they could trust.
The physicians were reluctant to let her return to her flat. They seemed to think it would be too much - she was not recovered enough in mind and spirit. She could not blame them. She fell into a deep depression before she managed to get the call across to Grumman. Speaking to him did not help to relieve her stress. But now that she set things in motion, she could not wait idle any longer. There was so much she had to do before help from Central arrived.
First, she had to find answers.
She stepped into the bedroom. It had taken some persuasion and a few harsh words, but Falman finally admitted this was the place where Mustang found her, covered in her own blood and teetering on the brink of death. If only it had not been the general. If only another person discovered her. If only someone had been with him - so he would not despair, so he would not have been so lost and blind. Too many things happened while she lay unconscious - things she could have prevented. She could not help feeling this was her fault.
The investigators removed the bedclothes and mattress; the room felt stripped, too bare. A small part of her was grateful. Falman did not divulge much of what he saw that day, but his eyes told a story more vivid than words. It must have been horrific. She knew she lost blood - the iron-heavy weight that pulled at her shoulders was proof enough - but she was not prepared to see the evidence. Riza stared at stain on the floor, now dry - nothing more than a crust of black flakes. Her blood. Roy found her this way.
She padded to the headboard. The rough-hewn wood was smooth here, bowed out as though shaped by a giant pair of hands. She could see more splintered wood on the floor nearby, one piece ending in an unnaturally warped spiral. She did not need to look closely to know what she would see: barely-discernible and perfectly square etchings, a tell-tale sign of Alchemy. More evidence her attacker was not some commoner out for revenge. More proof that an Ishvalan was not to blame.
She long thought on the identity of her attacker. Over the past three sleepless nights her mind reeled, desperately searching her memory for someone who might have motive to ruin them. It was too targeted, too intentional to be a random act of violence. Whoever attacked her wanted to destroy peace actions in Ishval. The symbol carved into her back was a plant - she was sure of it. And though the Resistance group had motive, she had a hard time believing they would choose alchemy - a tool of the so-hated Flame Alchemist - to carry it out.
Then there was the mystery of her scars. How were they healed, and for what purpose? The thought of another alchemist in possession of her father's secrets terrified her. They were dangerous; that fact had not diminished with time. There was a reason why she asked Mustang to burn her and why she was willing to endure that pain a second time. There could be no more flame alchemists, especially after what happened... what could have happened.
Roy. More than anything, the thought of him kept her awake at night. The last time she saw him was on that day, when she slapped him and said harsh things she would always regret. Even now her heart ached to remember how broken he looked when he staked out of her room. She'd never seen him so defeated. She heard nothing of him since. Falman avoided the topic as much as possible when he visited her in the infirmary over the past three days. Whenever Hawkeye brought up the general, the lieutenant's face tightened and he would suddenly find an excuse to leave.
She felt empty. They had been together such a long time. Ages. So long, she realised, she depended on the space he occupied in her life. His absence had become a great hole, a yawning chasm that was not there even as she worked in isolation under Bradley. Now he was gone and she was alone. The day she struck him pulled a switch inside her: The lights were on and she could finally see clearly what had been all along.
She heard a creak from the adjoining room: the sound of a floorboard bending under weight. Hawkeye gasped and her heart flew up to her throat. She drew her gun, hands shaking, already damp with sweat.
"Who's there?" she croaked. She did not understand why, but she was suddenly filled with an overwhelming terror. There was something about the sound that tugged at her memory. Riza unfurled her fingers to reposition her grip, and the gun nearly slipped from her hands.
Another floorboard popped. Hawkeye crouched behind the bedframe, squeezing her eyes closed for a heartbeat to keep the room from spinning. Though she healed substantially over the last three days, she was still weak, suffering the effects of her recent blood loss. She was in no condition to fight.
"Who's there?" she said again. "Show yourself!" She braced both arms on the bare box spring, gun trained at the empty doorway.
The flash of red was so shocking and unexpected, Hawkeye nearly pulled the trigger. She sucked a breath between her teeth and pointed the gun at the ceiling, away from the figure that appeared between the frames of her bedroom door. It was that Xingese stranger, the one Riza found in Mustang's office the day she was attacked. The woman stood unmoving, arms loose at her side, body relaxed, seemingly unaware or perhaps uncaring she had almost been shot.
"You -!" Riza rose from behind the bed. Her finger remained firmly set on the trigger. "What are you doing here?"
The stranger blinked. Her hand did not move to the daggers strapped to her belt but Riza could spot combat-hardened calluses well enough to know they could be in in a moment. "At last you are alone," the woman said, her accent thick and smooth as syrup.
Hawkeye's hands spasmed painfully on the grip of her gun. "What do you mean? Who are you and what are you doing here?"
A smile spread across the woman's lips but did not touch her eyes. "We have much to speak on, Riza Hawkeye." She eyed the dark stain on the floor with disgust and jerked her head toward the main room. "Come."
Every fighter's instinct screamed she not follow. Years spent in the military, hiding a secret that could ruin both her and her commanding officer, made Riza understandably distrustful of strangers. But Hawkeye shook her head and set her suspicions aside. She needed answers, and she sensed this stranger might have some to offer. Why else would she have come?
The Xingese woman was seated in one of the formerly overturned chairs by the time Riza entered the room. She perched cross-legged on the edge, seemingly at ease. She motioned for Hawkeye to sit across from her. "You may put away your weapon," the woman murmured. "I did not come here to fight."
After a moment's hesitation, Hawkeye crossed the room. This time she did not care where she stepped and the splinters popped and cracked under her feet. She sat slowly, unwilling to break eye contact with Xingese woman, whose own eyes glittered with barely-hidden amusement. Riza dropped her gun in her lap but did not put it away.
The stranger's eyes dipped to Riza's weapon and a smile tugged at the edge her lips. "Ask," she said, lifting an upturned, welcoming hand.
Riza's thumb ran over backstrap of her gun, along the sharp-then-smooth engraving. "Who are you?"
The woman quirked her head. "I am Suyin."
Riza sighed heavily through her nose. She was not in the mood for riddles. "That means nothing to me."
"I should hope not," Suyin smirked. "I lead a... private life. My trade is in Xing, but I have dealings with a select few in your country. I am known to one Madame Christmas, to whom I am indebted. I am here to repay a favor to her."
Hawkeye eyed the woman suspiciously. She knew something of Roy's foster mother and her... profession. Most of what Riza gleaned from her peripheral dealings with the woman was unsavory. "What kind of favor?"
"A substantial one." Suyin said lightly. "Otherwise I would not be in this -" She trailed off in a string of words Riza did not understand.
"What was the favor?" Riza pressed. She could only assume it was to help Roy in some way. Christmas was not one to be solicitous in distributing gifts - except when it pertained to her foster son.
"I came to teach Mustang alkahestry. He had a wish to learn."
He wanted to learn alkahestry? It made no sense. Doesn't he know enough alchemy? He's been to the Gate... what more could he learn? Riza frowned. Why did he not tell her? A sudden memory of Mustang's darkened flat flashed through her mind - the night after Grumman's party. He kissed her, and things had never been the same since. Her hands tightened over the grip. "Did he tell you why?"
Suyin shrugged again. "He wished to see. Alkahestry could give him that power."
"To see...?" Riza echoed. Her eyes trailed down to the weapon in her lap. It shone coldly between her fingers. "And you were able to teach him... You were able to show him how to see. That's how he could -"
"No!" The word was harsh - almost a bark. Riza glanced up to see anger flash over the other woman's features. "No. I taught him nothing. Nothing. He was not able to perform alkahestry before the day..." Suyin's voice trailed.
"Before the day I was attacked," Riza finished. She sighed and holstered her weapon. "Please. I need to know what happened."
Suyin shifted: Her first sign of discomfort since they met. "I know only parts. Pieces."
"But you do know something."
Suyin seemed more interested in tugging at a loose thread of silk than meeting Riza's eyes. "I do."
"Tell me."
Suyin's face suddenly broke into a smirk, eyes narrowed into a coquettish smile. "In my profession it is unheard of to give without expecting something in return."
Riza's hands curled on the edge of her chair. She did not have time for this. "What's your price?"
"That remains to be seen. Simply know my favors are not freely given."
"And what you owe Christmas? You haven't paid your debt yet. The General hasn't learned alkahestry. You said it yourself."
Suyin's lip curled. "The favor was to be paid to Mustang alone."
Riza paused, considering her next words carefully. She was not one for manipulation. She could not twist words the way the general could. She was too straightforward and forthright - she had been since she was a girl. "If you help me, you help him," she said, simply.
Suyin pursed her lips, considering the captain for a long minute. "That is true," she said softly. "More than you know, I suspect."
Hawkeye was growing tired of riddles. "Then help me," she growled. "Answer. Do you know who attacked me?"
Suyin shook her head. "I do not. I sensed nothing that night." She raised her hand again, welcoming Riza to continue. "Ask."
"Falman said you healed me," Riza prompted.
The Xingese woman smiled wolfishly. "That is not a question." Her grin widened when she saw how quickly it irritated the lieutenant. "But he was correct. I did heal you."
Riza pursed her lips, debating her next words. Eventually, her need to know the truth won out over her desire to hide secrets. "And the... scars? Did you heal those too?"
Suyin cocked her head. "Scars?"
"The scars on my back," Riza said, trying to keep her voice calm. "Did you heal them?"
Suyin frowned. "I healed your wounds, Riza Hawkeye, nothing more. There were no scars."
It felt as though the air rushed out of the room. "I... see," Riza said.
"These scars... they were extensive?"
"...Yes," Riza breathed. "They were on my back."
The Xingese woman's eyes grew sharp - more calculating than curious now. "Ah. I was interested to see how you were so marked. I was told tattoos are not a custom in Amestris."
There was that dizzying fear. The terror she always felt when someone might learn of the fire array. The feeling never faded with time. She spent her entire life protecting her father's secrets, and even after the array was destroyed she was still afraid it was not enough. Riza crossed her arms over her chest. "It's of no importance to you," she muttered, bothered by how Suyin's eyes seemed to glitter. "Forget you ever saw it."
The other woman shrugged, but her gaze lingered on the crest of Hawkeye's shoulder before drifting up to the lieutenant's eyes again. Riza swore she saw the smallest fluttering of greed before it dissapeared. "It matters not to me," Suyin said lightly. "I have no interest in alchemy."
"You're certain you saw no scars?"
"I did not," Suyin said.
"So they were gone when you found me." The world seemed to shrink around her. Suddenly anything was possible.
"One must assume so."
That means they were healed before she arrived, Riza mused. My scars were healed... by my attacker. Whoever they were, they restored the tattoo intentionally, and now they knew Mustang's secret. And if they were powerful enough to heal her scars, they could most certainly wield flame.
It hasn't been the only secret discovered over the past few weeks, Hawkeye realized. "Would... could a Philosopher's stone erase my scars?"
Suyin stared at the captain incredulously for a moment before she snorted, slapping her knee as though Riza told a joke. "A Philosopher's stone? Stories we tell children! With tales of dragons and demon-gods! It could heal anything, it you are one to believe legends! It can also turn lead into gold and make men fall desperately in love with any woman." She threw Riza a sharp-eyed glance. "Are you a superstitious woman, Captain?"
Riza glared at the Xingese stranger. She was not willing to admit the truth: There was a Philosopher's stone in existence and it was recently stolen. It was why Mustang remained blind. Now Hawkeye's certainty grew with every second: There was a connection between the two events. Someone was plotting against them, purposefully undermining their efforts so Mustang's team could not succeed in Ishval. She glanced at Suyin, still chuckling under her breath. "Stranger things have happened lately."
"Oh?" Suyin wiped a tear from her eye before smiling at the captain with mild curiosity.
Hawkeye concentrated on keeping her face impassive. "A cadet - one of our own - attacked some Ishvalan civilians several days ago."
"What does that matter to me?" Suyin said flippantly. "Mustang needs to better control his men."
Riza frowned. She swore she saw something in the other woman's eyes - a flash of doubt. She was hiding something "We screened each soldier before we came here," she said evenly. "There could be no mistakes. Every man was dedicated to our cause. We made certain of that."
"It seems one man was not," Suyin said, casting her eyes to a corner of the room. "It does not sound strange to me. Men are weak. They fall. They fail."
"But there was something strange." Riza was staring at Suyin now, carefully studying the Xingese woman's expression. "He couldn't remember attacking the Ishvalans. He claimed he didn't remember anything." She watched Suyin's body tighten, the slight curling of her fingers over her silk trousers. Riza's voice dropped to a whisper. "Just like me. I can't remember anything from the night I was attacked. Strange, isn't it?"
"I... see." Her dark eyes canted up to meet Hawkeye's. In them, Riza could see darkness. Knowledge of something she wished to keep hidden.
Riza leaned forward in her seat, pinning the other woman with her gaze. This was too important. "You know something. Tell me."
Suyin's mouth downturned into a thoughtful frown. She considered Hawkeye for a moment, teetering between two decisions. After a long silence, she nodded. "I can help you. But first you must take me to this cadet. I wish to see him for myself."
-o-o-o-
"You're late." The voice was deep and resonant; weighty because it was such a rare thing to be heard. "I have been waiting."
"My apologies." Miles lifted his glasses to the sun before pulling a cloth from his pocket. The lenses were smudged and covered in a thin layer of sand. "Things have been unstable in our camp since the attack."
"So I hear."
Miles sighed and stared down at his hands, focusing on his work. That was an understatement at best. The initial uproar had already faded, but whispers still flew among the ranks: Someone attacked two of Mustang's own. Uncertainty infiltrated the ranks, threatening to dissolve the chain of command. Small fights broke out in the barracks and mess halls. Everyone was on edge. Miles frowned. The dark glass flashed between his fingers, reflecting amber light from the sandstone nearby. "I'm sure you've heard many things over the past few days."
"Yes."
Miles barked a laugh. "She was right. You're not a man of many words, are you?"
The man shrugged, then went still again. It was so unnerving how quiet he could be at times. Miles swore the man was carved out of stone.
"Tell me," Miles said. "How long do you plan on playing this game?" The man grunted and the major sent him an apologetic smile. "Don't get me wrong, your information has been invaluable, but it won't be long before Resistance sees you for the spy you are."
"I am not a spy," the man rumbled. "These people seek to undermine efforts to rebuild our country. I cannot allow that."
Miles' fingers slowed, sweeping in soft circles over the glass. Our people. Our. The man spoke it so certainly - so naturally. As though he were part of a greater whole. As though he belonged. Miles frowned slightly and removed the last smudge before replacing the glasses on his face. "Nor can I."
The man nodded. "I hear Mustang returned to his post."
"Yes... he has," Miles said slowly. There was no explanation for Mustang's disappearance after Captain Hawkeye was attacked. He knew the general took the captain to the infirmary. According to the nursing staff, he left shortly thereafter in the company of Breda, Falman, and a strange woman in Xingese clothing. The general disappeared into the desert. Falman returned an hour later with an unconscious Breda slung over his shoulders. Mustang remained missing until the following day, again accompanied by the Xingese woman. From what Miles gathered speaking to the soldiers on duty, the General visited the infirmary once more before returning to the command center.
Since, Mustang hardly spoke to anyone, instead issuing orders secondhand through couriers and - mainly - through Lieutenant Falman. The remaining members of Mustang's team remained light-lipped, loyal as always. Construction resumed and soldiers went about their duties, but a pall had been cast over the entire camp. Uncertainty lived in the heart of every man.
"So," the man said. "I assume you do not know what happened."
Miles started, glancing up at his informant. Not for the first time he was glad his glasses hid his eyes. "Does that mean you do?"
"Yes," the man replied. "After the captain was attacked, Mustang confronted Shane."
"What?" Miles said, heart sinking. Mustang sought out the leader of the Resistance? "Tell me what happened."
The informant was quick in his explanations - always direct, never descriptive. Miles face darkened as the other man recounted how Mustang arrived at the Resistance hideout, blaming Shane and the others for the attack on his lieutenant. How the general threatened them with fire alchemy and - ultimately - how Breda choose to block the attack with his body rather than allow what would have most certainly led to war.
Miles plunked down on an overturned column. He felt sick. "Why hasn't the Resistance attacked? Why haven't they retaliated? What are they waiting for?"
The man shook his head. "They aren't fools. They know you Amestrians have something they need. Something they can't survive without."
Miles nodded, ignoring how the other man referred to him as an Amestrian - an outsider. "Water."
The man nodded. "Yes. It is in short supply in our camp as well as yours. Shane is not an idiot; he knows it would be suicide to start a fight now, when we are so vulnerable."
"We have a large supply on the way..." Miles mused. "It should arrive any day now." He had reports the caravan left the Eastern train station over a week ago. It was slow-moving, laden with its burden. The deep sand and foul desert weather slowed their progress significantly.
"The Resistance knows about this supply."
"What?" Miles' head jerked up. "You don't mean...?"
The man's face turned grim. "Yes. This is the opportunity they need. They intend to take the water before it arrives at your camp. By force, if necessary."
"Shit," Miles muttered. This could ruin everything they worked so hard to attain. "And then what? They intend to attack the people who supply their people with water? Are they insane?"
The man shrugged. "They are confident that once Amestris is out of the way, they will find one of the lost reservoirs."
"Assuming any of them survives," Miles said. "You know as well as I do... it will be a bloodbath. We have to prevent this from happening at all costs." Miles growled and scuffed one boot over a loose piece of stone. This was all Mustang's fault. What was he thinking, confronting the Resistance like that? Now things were set in motion, like the first few boulders in an avalanche. It was unstoppable; he was not sure if they had the means to prevent what was to come. He turned to the other man. "Scar..."
"Shh!" His informant held out a hand to quiet him, not heeding the sound of his own name. His eyes scanned the rubble that skirted their meeting place. "I heard something."
Miles cursed inwardly and reached for his gun. It would be disaster if the Resistance discovered them together. He watched Scar stride to the southmost point of the clearing where they stood. Miles was again struck by how stealthily the larger Ishvalan moved. Scar disappeared behind a pile of shattered bricks.
The major waited for the span of several breathless minutes, silently cursing himself for his foolishness. It was too risky, meeting here together. Anyone could have seen them. He was about to follow when Scar reappeared, a troubled expression on his face. "What did you see?" Miles called softly.
"Someone was here," Scar replied. "I saw tracks in the sand." He glanced up at the major and shook his head. "No boot treads, so it was not likely an Amestrian..."
"A Resistance member?"
"I'm not sure. The markings were too small. A woman's... perhaps a child's foot."
Miles sighed and pushed up his glasses to rub his eyes. He did not have time to deal with this. He would just have to take each issue as it came. "Come on," he muttered. "Let's find someplace safer to talk. I need to know everything... When and how they plan to strike."
Scar nodded, casting one last glance in the direction of the noise before following Miles between two broken pillars.
Neither man noticed the figure hidden in the rubble, blood red eyes following them until they disappeared into the Ishvalan ruins.
-o-o-o-
Hawkeye decided to take the most roundabout route possible to the brig. Suyin was more than slightly conspicuous, dressed in bright red silk and clearly not a soldier. The other woman refused to wear one of Hawkeye's spare uniforms, stating with no small measure of disgust that she would rather die than wear something so constricting. Riza herself would be noticed on the walkways; everyone in camp knew she had been seriously injured only a few days before. Either way, the pair would draw unwanted attention.
They had not travelled far when Riza's legs started to burn and a dull ache pulled at her chest. Pain passed through her head like a shot. She could not go on much longer at this pace. "Wait," she called to Suyin, several yards ahead. "Slow down."
Suyin turned back to Hawkeye, now leaning with one hand braced on a nearby wall. "You are unwell."
"It's nothing..." Riza said. "Just... still a bit weak."
Suyin nodded and strode over to crouch next to Riza. "I will wait."
"...Thank you." It wasn't so bad; the burn was already fading. She stole a glance at her companion. The Xingese woman hardly seemed to notice, instead studying a passing sandfly as though it were the most fascinating thing in the world.
Riza cleared her throat. "Tell me this, Suyin. How did you know? When the general found me... how did you know we needed help?"
Suyin's face hardened. Riza was suddenly struck with the image of a door swinging shut, eclipsing all light. The Xingese woman heaved a reluctant sigh. "I sensed something..." she said slowly, rolling the words over her tongue as though unsure if they were right. "I sensed something... forbidden. I knew it was Mustang but I did not understand it. So I came. I found him and I found you." Her eyes drifted up to Riza's before darting back to the insect. "You were near the end." Her toe hovered over the tiny, crawling insect.
Riza pushed away from the wall. "What do you mean? Are you saying what you sensed wasn't alchemy?"
"It was not."
"But General Mustang made... he was the source of whatever it is you sensed?"
"Yes."
"And you say you didn't teach him alkahestry." Her tongue stumbled over the unfamiliar word.
"I could not," Suyin said. "He does not have the mind for it. He is too analytical; he has too many thoughts."
Riza smiled weakly. An apt description of Mustang, if a bit simple. "So what was it, then? What did you sense?"
Suyin shook her head. "I am unsure what I felt before I arrived. Alkahestry that was not alkahestry. Alchemy that was not alchemy. Its nature is unclear to me, but he used it to see - that much is certain. I witnessed it later, when he sought out that Ishvalan rabble in the desert." She paused and regarded the Captain with dark eyes, deep and unchanging as a still and bottomless pool. "Before he..." She shrugged and her foot dropped, smashing the insect under her toe.
Before he nearly killed Breda, Riza finished silently. So Falman was right. Mustang found his way to the Resistance hideout by using some strange new ability. The general did not need to be led - he led himself. Whatever this power was, and impossible as it seemed, he used it to see. "What will it do to him?" Riza said uneasily. "Is it corrupting him? Is that the reason why he did what he did?"
"No. It was not," Suyin said, a touch of harshness pushing its way through her accent. "It could not. It was a power he created."
"I see," Hawkeye said again, eyes trained on her fingers, now playing restlessly over the clasp of her holster. Her heart sank at how easily Suyin answered, as though there were no question - no doubt Mustang acted of his own accord. So it was true: He alone was to blame for what happened to Breda.
"Do you recall?" Suyin said. She lifted her foot. The sandfly was gone, buried beneath sand and silt.
"Do I recall what?"
"What occurred the night you were attacked."
"There's nothing," Riza sighed. "I don't remember anything. "
"You are sure?" Suyin said, glancing at Riza again. Her eyes were strange. They seemed to see so deep, as though capable of piercing stone and flesh alike. Riza could not help but be reminded of pair of eyes just like them: Maes Hughes' were like that, too. He always saw things others meant to keep hidden.
"Yes I'm sure," Riza said, her voice edged with exasperation. "I remember going home to my flat, then... nothing. Just darkness. Black." She paused, tonguing one cheek.
In truth, there was more to the darkness. She felt things, sensed others around her. She remembered something dark and powerful wrapping her and someone pushing a white-hot needle into her skull. And she saw him. Roy. Alone and walking away from her. She remembered the feeling of something torn away and hot tears on her face. It was a dream - a vision at most. It meant nothing. Suyin did not need to know.
Suyin studied her for a long moment before she shrugged. "Hmm."
"Well," Riza said. "Let's get moving, then."
The two women hardly spoke as they made their way between hastily-made soldiers' quarters and barracks alike. The area was thankfully quiet; most soldiers being on duty or sleeping off their night shifts. Still, Riza was relieved to see the brig come into view. It was a low-slung building, indistinguishable from the others but for a pair of soldiers posted outside. Hawkeye turned to her companion only to find Suyin was several steps behind her, regarding the men with distaste.
Riza frowned. "It'll be a task getting someone like you in... but maybe if I..."
Suyin smirked and shook her head. "No matter. I shall find my own way." Without another word, she disappeared in a swish of red silk.
The guards snapped to attention as Hawkeye approached. The one nearer to her had close-cropped black hair; he could not have been much older than twenty. His eyes widened when he recognized her. "C- Captain!"
"Hello, Private Reed," she said coolly, pulling her shoulders back and drawing up to her full height. She knew this role; she wore it like a skin.
"Captain..." Reed hitched the firearm higher on his shoulder. The weapon looked too big for such a young man. "What are you doing here, ma'am? Shouldn't you be resting?"
"That is no concern of yours, Private. I have business here. Let me through." After a moment's thought, she added a belated "Please."
"But ma'am..." interjected Reed's companion - another private who Riza did not recognize. "We received no notice. There should be a written document detailing reasons for your visit and who you wish to -"
"Private," Hawkeye warned. She was in her element now. She knew how to make words sharp - make them crack like a whip. "Move."
"I - I -" the young man swallowed thickly. The hand that gripped his gun was ice-white.
"I will only tell you once."
Reed swept his arm out to push the other soldier's gun down. "Of course... of course we will, Captain..." He sent a warning glance at the unnamed private, who ducked his head and stepped to the side.
"Thank you," Riza said briskly, barely brushing shoulders with Reed as she passed. She paused at the door to throw a peremptory look over her shoulder. "I expect not to be disturbed."
"Yes ma'am," both guards gave a weak salute.
The brig interior was startlingly cool after the afternoon heat. Most of the cells lay empty but for a few cadets sleeping off hangovers from the night before. Up to this point, there had been few conflicts in camp, fewer still requiring a brig - even one as small as theirs. Hawkeye did not lie when she said they chose their troops carefully. She shut the door behind her and quietly slid the deadbolt in place. She could not risk the others interrupting. Riza slowly made her way down the narrow corridor, peering into each cell as she went.
She had not gotten far when Suyin's voice came from just over her shoulder. "I'm here."
Hawkeye gasped, falling back against the bars of the nearest cell, gun holster hitting the metal with a startling clang. She had not even heard the woman approach. "God," she breathed.
"Apologies," Suyin said. Her expression never changed, but Riza could hear a soft lilt of amusement in her voice. "I did not mean to startle."
"How did you get in?" Hawkeye said, glancing around the dim interior. She could see no other lights but for the ones that hung from the ceiling. She was certain there were no windows and no other entrances to the brig.
Suyin smiled and cocked her head. "A woman must keep her secrets. Come. Let us find this boy." She turned away, toward the back of the brig.
Riza merely shook her head and followed.
Cadet Brantley was imprisoned in the furthermost cell, isolated from the rest. The boy was huddled in the back corner, hands tucked under each arm. He stared blankly at his knees, hardly moving, and for a moment Riza feared the boy might have lost his mind. But he looked up at them with clear - if sullen - eyes when they appeared at his door.
"Who's there?" he rasped, squinting through the dark like a blind man. "Is it time for lunch yet?"
Hawkeye regarded the cadet silently for a moment before deciding to don the veil of command. He was a young man, and perhaps respect for her rank and station help things along. She had questions. Questions he might be able to answer. "Cadet," she clipped. "At attention."
The poor boy stumbled to his feet, snapping his heels together; a long-ingrained reflex. He was wearing a set of simple clothes made of a cheap gunmetal grey - nothing unusual for Amestrian prisoners. Hawkeye was surprised to see them soiled, dirtied at the knees and along one side as though he had fallen. There was a fresh gash on the cadet's eyebrow, crusted over with dried blood. He winced as he brought one hand up into a salute.
Riza stepped under the sickly yellow light. It cast a paltry circle that just reached the edge of Brantley's cell. The cadet paled visibly as he caught sight of his commanding officer. "Captain... Hawkeye..." he whispered hoarsely. He looked terrified.
In the corner of her vision, Riza saw a flash of red. Suyin positioned herself against the wall, just out of the circle of light. Riza dared a sideways glance at the Xingese woman before focusing back on the cadet. Suyin seemed tense; her hand rested lightly over a pair of kunai at her belt. Hawkeye shifted uneasily and nodded at the boy. "At ease."
Brantley flinched, frozen in place for a moment before he managed to drop his hand to his side. "Captain, they told me you were..." He paused, as though afraid to speak, to say something that might further condemn him. "They said you were hurt."
Even a kid in the brig heard about it, Riza thought, shaking her head. "It was nothing. I'm fine. What happened to you, Cadet?" The boy looked worse than when she saw him in the tent with the Ishvalans. "Where did you get that cut?" Looking closer, she could see his palms were scraped raw from what looked to be a fall. Blood darkened the dirt that soiled one knee, and what she initially thought was a shadow over one cheek was a deeply purpled bruise.
The cadet let out a shuddering breath and glanced up at her timidly. "They told me... they said it was my fault."
Hawkeye tensed. "They said what was your fault?"
"They said... the Ishvalans attacked you because of what I did."
"Who? Who said that? Who did this to you?" She did not remember moving, but suddenly she felt cold metal under her hands: Her fingers wrapped around the bars of the cell.
Brantley glanced up through dirty bangs before dropping them to the floor and shaking his head.
"Cadet," Hawkeye said firmly.
The young man let out a groan and wrapped his arms around his middle. "Some of the others," he muttered. "During the guard change. They said you had been hurt... and..." His shoulders shook with a wet sob.
Riza stepped closer. "Did the other soldiers do this to you, Cadet? Amestrian soldiers?"
Brantley merely nodded, not meeting her eyes. "They said the Ishvalans attacked you because of me. Because of what I did. But..." His voice built, becoming high-pitched and desperate. "But I didn't! I didn't do anything!" The boy seemed to dissolve, crumpling in on himself until he was nothing but a shaking lump crouched on the cold stone. "I didn't do it! I swear I didn't!" he coughed into the space between his knees. "I don't even remember happened! I woke up inside some Ishvalan's house..." He brought his hands in front of his face, staring at them with too-wide eyes. "There was blood on my fingers..."
"Cadet," Riza said sharply. "It wasn't your fault."
"What have I done?" Brantley moaned.
"Listen to me. I don't think the Ishvalans attacked me."
Brantley hardly seemed to acknowledge her. He rocked on the balls of his feet, face buried his hands.
"Cadet!" Hawkeye clipped.
The boy let out a startled 'huh.' His head jerked up and he seemed to see her for the first time. His eyes were red-rimmed and far, far younger than his eighteen years.
"Cadet," Riza said, more gently this time. "Something happened to you. Something happened to both of us." A beat. "Something neither of us can remember."
Brantley sniffed heavily through a snot-clogged nose. "You can't... remember?"
Riza nodded. "I need your help. I need you to tell me everything you know about that night."
"I don't remember anything!" the boy sobbed. "That's the point! Don't you think I would have told by now?"
She crouched in front of the bars to so she was in his field of view. "Where were you before it happened?"
"I was patrolling the ruins. I was doing what I was ordered to do."
"And then...?"
"Nothing. Nothing!" He reached up to scrub his hands through his hair. "Everything was black!"
Everything was black. It was what she remembered, too. But there was something in the darkness - a looming threat, a power, a presence. She leaned closer, voice dropping to a whisper. "Did you... Did you feel something?"
The cadet froze in his rocking, balanced perfectly on two feet. He slowly raised his head to meet her stare. He looked shocked. Brantley opened his mouth to speak, but he stopped before he could make a sound. His eyes widened and darted to Riza's left. "Wh- who is she?" he whispered.
Riza started and looked up to see Suyin standing under the light. It reflected dully off the red of her clothes, making her appear more torch than woman. The illumination seemed to coil around her, and when she next spoke her voice was heated, intense. "Tell me about this blackness. Tell me what you felt."
The boy shrunk back and sent a fearful look at his commander. "Captain...?"
"Brantley," Riza said smoothly, leaning both hands against the bars. "It's okay. This is Suyin. She's here to help us." She tried to ignore the incredulous snort from the woman behind her. "Tell us what you remember."
"I..." Brantley muttered. "There was someone there... with me. But I don't think she was there. Not really."
Riza and Suyin exchanged a glance. She?
"She was holding my head," Brantley continued, voice shaking. "She was pushing something into my brain. It hurt. It hurt!" The boy moaned and buried his head in his hands.
"Who, Cadet?" Riza pressed her face between the bars. "What did she look like?"
"I don't know! I can't remember!" he cried, shuffling back on hands and heels. Soon his back hit the far wall of his cell. "Leave me alone! Leave me alone!"
"Brantley..." Hawkeye began. The boy simply shook his head and sobbed.
"I am going in," Suyin muttered, brushing past Hawkeye with the sound of silk on silk.
"You can't. You don't have a -" Hawkeye watched dumbly as the other woman pulled a pair of pins from her hair and thrust them into the lock. Within seconds, the tumblers rolled out of place and the door swung open. The Xingese woman swept inside without a moment's hesitation.
Brantley shrieked and scrambled back against the wall. "Stay away from me!"
"Suyin! What are you doing?" Hawkeye stumbled up to standing, bracing one hand against the bars as another spell of dizziness spilled over her. "Leave him alone!" she gasped.
Something bright flashed between Suyin's fingers and Riza heard the ringing sound of metal on stone. She peered into the gloom to see five kunai standing upright, embedded in the floor in a perfect circle. Suyin bent down to draw a large star between them with a piece of chalk. Brantley shrieked and turned to claw at the wall, desperate to escape.
"Stop, Suyin!" Riza lurched forward to round the door. She did not remember drawing her gun, but suddenly she felt a familiar, cold weight in her hand. Suyin had already taken hold of Brantley's collar by the time she stepped into the cell. The Xingese woman heaved the boy from the wall and slammed him to the ground, placing his head at the center of the circle. Riza gasped and drew her gun, aiming directly at the other woman's crown. "Stop!"
"You want answers," Suyin said softly. "This is how we find them."
Riza's arms began to shake; even the simple effort of lifting a gun was taxing. "What are you going to do to him?"
Black eyes met brown, and Riza was suddenly struck with how similar Suyin's were to Roy's. It was more than their shape. There was a determination in them - a willingness to do things that were necessary, even if they were ugly. "Make him see," she murmured before diverting her attention back to Brantley. Everything stopped and the air seemed to still.
The cadet shrieked as light sprang from the ground under Suyin's hands. Riza shouted too, but the sound was drowned out by a high-pitched buzzing that seemed to come from the air itself. Hawkeye squeezed the trigger, but her hands were shaking too violently now. The bullet whizzed harmlessly over the other woman's shoulder, ricocheting off the wall in a high-pitched zip. Suyin hardly seemed to notice, too focused on the boy beneath her. She reached up to grasp his head between her hands.
Brantley spasmed as though an electric shock passed through his body. The light from the circle grew brighter and Riza threw one hand over her face to shield her eyes. Through the blinding rays, she could see Suyin crouched over the boy, forehead so close they were nearly touching. She had a look of firm determination on her face. Sweat dripped from her chin.
Riza hung back, afraid to interfere. Who knew what Suyin was doing to him and what would happen if she interrupted the transmutation? She learned as a young girl never to disturb her father at his work. She had been warned time and again what might happen. The reaction could backlash onto anyone. Matter could be destroyed. Time and reality could warp. Riza knew nothing of alkahestry or what she might do to Brantley if she tried. So watched helplessly as the light slowly enveloped both soldier and stranger. The gun felt heavy in her hand; a useless burden.
Finally, Brantley let out one final moan and lay still. The light faded quickly, fading into the earth and leaving bright spots in Riza's eyes. Suyin carefully set the boy's head down and leaned back on her haunches. She appeared thoughtful; her eyes were unfocused, looking at something that seemed away and only half-remembered. Hawkeye stood over her in a moment, gun trained at the Xingese woman's head.
"What the hell was that?" she growled. "What did you do to him?"
Suyin raised her head and peered at the captain as though suddenly realizing she was there. "Do not point that thing at me," she said, though there was no power behind it. Her voice was hoarse. She reached down to brush dirt of her trousers, frowning in annoyance at how badly her fingers trembled. She curled a hand around one of the kunai embedded in the floor instead. It came out from the stone with a soft, high-pitched sound.
"Answer me," Hawkeye said, pressing the gun barrel to the woman's temple. "What did you do?"
Suyin sheathed the knife in her belt and reached for another. Her hands were sure; they did not tremble anymore. "I took his memory. I saw what he saw."
"What? You saw?" The gun dropped half a foot before Hawkeye was able to bring it up to Suyin's head again. "You saw what happened to him?"
Suyin shook her head. The last three kunai were out of reach; she would have to lean forward to take them, but she seemed to know that was not something Hawkeye would allow. "I saw flashes. Pieces. He was right. The one who attacked him is female." Suyin's eyes drifted up past the barrel of the gun. "She had red eyes."
Hawkeye let out a long breath and lowered her weapon. "You're certain? You're absolutely certain?"
"Yes. There was another with her, but I could not see their face."
"No," Riza breathed. "No." She stumbled backwards against the bars of the cell.
Suyin made quick work of gathering the rest of her kunai. She delicately brushed off her knees and straightened. "I saw where it happened. He was in the ruins. We must go. I might be able to see more there.."
"What about him?" Hawkeye said. Brantley still lay on the cell floor. The boy's face was peaceful now. His chest moved up and down in the unhurried breaths of a deep sleep.
"He will be fine," Suyin said, apparently more focused on arranging the weapons on her belt than the cadet she handled so viciously only moments before. "He is unharmed. He will not remember we came here." Satisfied with her work, the Xingese woman smoothed the front of her shirt and started toward the cell door. "Come. We must hurry."
"Wait," Riza said, catching hold of the other woman's wrist as she passed. "Stop."
Suyin twitched but did not pull away. "We cannot delay."
Hawkeye's fingers curled more tightly. "Do it to me."
The Xingese woman's head turned so quickly, Riza nearly released her grip. Suyin's face was ghastly white. She seemed shocked, almost appalled. "You do not know what you ask."
"I want you to try to see my memories, too."
"No." Suyin shook her head and tried to jerk out of the captain's grasp.
Hawkeye only held more tightly. "I'm asking you, as part of the favor you owe -"
"No!" Suyin barked, composure cracking for an instant before she regained it again. "It is dangerous. Mustang would not be pleased if I tried such things on you."
"Dangerous?" Riza glanced down at Brantley. "How then do you justify doing it to a helpless cadet?"
Suyin shrugged, this time restlessly, as though trying to throw something uncomfortable off her shoulders. "We needed answers."
"I needed answers. I want to know what happened to me. I didn't bring you here to hurt one of my men."
Suyin's head tipped down - just a little. Riza could not be sure, but she could swear she saw shame flash over the other woman's face. "I did not hurt him."
"...But you could have," Riza supplied.
"Yes," Suyin admitted. "I could have. The transmutation is delicate. I could have damaged him beyond repair. That is why I will not attempt it on you."
Riza holstered her gun and reached up to take hold of the woman's elbow. "I want you to try."
Suyin sighed and turned her face away, eyes trained on the floor. "No."
"Do it. I'm not afraid."
"That is beside the point," Suyin said evenly and with infuriating calm. Her eyes swung up to meet Riza's. "It will not work on you."
What? Desperation bloomed in Riza's chest. She needed to know. She had to understand what happened to her. Her hands tightened on Suyin's arm. "Why not?"
"Because," Suyin said simply. "As much as you say otherwise, you do not wish to remember." Suyin broke Riza's grip with a deft flick of her hand. "Come. We must go."
-o-o-o-
A/N: It's been awhile! Please take the time to leave a few words. It takes hours (days, weeks!) to write a chapter, but only minutes to review.
Thanks to the wonderful Oedipus Tex for the support. Divine Right of Kings is awesome sauce. Thanks, too, to Disastergirl for the beta. She (finally!) finished her masterpiece, Even of Dead Waters. You'd be a fool not to read.
Next Chapter: Hiss (for real this time)