Chapter 25: In Which First Aid Is A Handy Skill

Author's Note: Guess who's back?

The gun flew in an elegant arc to the floor as Packard clutched his hand in pain. The pistol was still smoking as Riza stepped forward and aimed it at the man's head.

Moan of pain. "You…"

Riza thumbed back the hammer. "Me," she replied coldly.

Havoc heaved a sigh and stepped up next to her, locking gazes with the criminal. "I'm afraid it's time for some answers, Doctor." He brought out a cigarette and started searching his back pocket for a light. "Who's behind this little venture of yours?"

"Go to hell," Packard spat back."Get rid of Mustang, and maybe then I'll think about cooperating."

"You'll cooperate now," Riza responded smoothly, stepping closer. "Or I will shoot you a hole in your other hand to match."

"You know," Havoc said calmly, lighting his cigarette, "I don't even care what grudge you hold towards the General – someone's clearly been feeding you lies so you would do what they want, and I trust him a lot more than I trust them. The question is," he pinned Packard with his eyes, "does the puppet know who's pulling the strings?"

"How dare you," Packard hissed, fury and pain working his face. "How dare you imply I'm not working on my own, as if I am not my own master! Nobody controls me!"

"Give it a rest, Packard." The lieutenant took a long drag. "You've already let it slip that someone else is sponsoring this little event. Even if you hadn't, you really mean to tell me a little doctor fresh out of the loony bin got enough funds and tactical knowledge to hire mercenaries and know what to do with them? You have a dangerous penchant for underestimating people, Doc."

"Fuck you."

Hawkeye lost her patience. "You have ten seconds," she declared lowly. "Ten."

Packard went cross-eyed as he tried to look at the barrel jabbed hard against his forehead. "What – you -" He stammered.

"Um, Hawkeye..."

"Nine." The mahogany eyes were icy.

"You can't kill me – you won't find out anything that way!"

"Eight."

"Bluff," he determined hesitantly, looking sick. "This is a bluff."

"Five."

His eyes grew wide as he blurted incredulously, "You can't do that!!"

"Watch me. Four."

He was starting to visibly panic. "I can't say anything, they'll kill me!"

"Correction: I will kill you. Three."

"I don't know who they are, I swear! They just came and -"

"Two."

"No, listen!" he cried desperately. "They came to me, told me Mustang was to blame for my family' death – showed me proof! And they told me they could help me get revenge, I just had to do what they said, they could even get me men, explosives, whatever I needed-"

"Who are they? One."

"I don't know! I swear," he blabbered, "I swear, I don't know! I never saw their faces, there was just this skinny guy, almost a kid, but made you shiver just to listen to him, I don't know how it's possible but I'm not even sure he was hum-"

"Zero," a smooth voice spoke from behind.

Riza and Jean stared wide-eyed at the small rip in Packard's shirt as it filled with something red and sticky. The man stared back at them in astonished, pale horror, fell slowly to his knees… and then crumbled to the ground.

Jean whirled about to face the dark corridor behind them.

…Nothing.

"Who's there?" Riza called out from beside him, stepping forward.

Something moved in the shadows. A laugh echo from the walls, accompanied by soft and rapid footsteps. The two waited a moment, but it quickly became clear that whoever it was, it was avoiding further confrontation.

Riza made as if to follow, but Jean grabbed onto her forearm. "Let's see to him first," he nodded with his head toward the man lying on the ground. "There's a chance the gunshot wasn't fatal."

Her tense muscles held still for a second, then relaxed. "You're right," she conceded reluctantly. Much as she would have liked to pursue Packard's shooter, as fruitless as that would likely turn out to be – especially in a setting she was unfamiliar with – the responsible thing was to take care of the terrorist leader and make sure he lived long enough to go to jail.

"I feel like I should know this already, but how much do you know of first aid, Riza?" Havoc asked as he tore off his sleeve with his teeth, attempting to create a makeshift bandage.

"Basic field training, nothing more," Hawkeye replied as she craned her head over Packard's mouth, checking for breathing.

"Crap," he muttered feelingly, and she couldn't help but agree. They were both at the same level, more or less. "Well, is he breathing?"

"I might be missing it, but I can't hear anything." Riza waited five seconds more, then felt for his heartbeat. "Heartbeat's there, though, but it's slow and irregular," she determined.

"So, what does that mean?" he asked, trying to maneuver strips of clothes around Packard's waist.

"With a first aid kit available, he might have been able to hold on for half an hour. Without one… ten minutes, give or take a few."

Havoc swore.

"Cool trick," another voice remarked tiredly, sounding somewhat impressed. "How long do I have?"

Riza and Jean raised their heads.

Ward looked back at them faintly from where he was leaning against the wall, having stayed quiet so far. His right hand holding onto his left arm as blood dyed the pink sleeve red. "Not too short, please," he mumbled as he slid slowly to the floor, eyes fluttering shut. "Mrs. Hughes will get m-mad if I… miss... dinner…"

"Ward!"

Water ran freely down her cheeks, but the expression on her face was pure, unadulterated victory.

"Good job," he told her. The words were empty ones, spoken only for the sake of acknowledging the incredible adrenaline rush that had allowed the girl to lever the beam away from her trapped leg. But he didn't know what else to say.

The girl rolled over to look at him, only slightly wincing at the pain. Their gazes met, and he wondered whether she was going to yell at him. She seemed to like doing that.

"Thank you," she said instead, surprising him.

He wasn't sure how to respond, so he just stood there awkwardly. "Sure."

She nodded her head at him tiredly, and her dark eyes closed shut as she propped herself on her elbows and slowly sat up. "Where is mama?" she asked.

"Who?"

Her eyes fluttered open. They looked worried.

"Mama, mi mama! She was… praying, in the church." She looked to the right, and her eyes widened. It was probably the first time she could see the destruction brought on her little town. "Where… where is it?" she asked in a tiny voice. "I can't see it. Everything's… different."

"I don't think it's there anymore," he said honestly.

Her numerous black braids swung as she turned her head to glare at him. "Mama's fine," the sharp little girl said, daring him to say otherwise.

"Probably not," he told her softly.

Voices.

"Havoc? Hawkeye!"

"General!"

"Sir, we need a medical team, stat. Packard's a mess, and Ward… Ward's hurt."

"We have a medic right here. Dawson, go to Packard first, we need him alive and talking. Heyman?"

"Sir!"

"Get Farman on the radio, we need paramedics inside the building for two injured. Tell him to take the side entrance."

"On it, sir!"

Her eyes widened. She made a small noise in the back of her throat that he couldn't identify… and then stumbled to her feet and bolted through the charred ruins of her village, limping.

He looked after her small figure and, after a moment, turned away.

--

He stood on top of a hill, wondering where to go next. He should probably take advantage of the fact he was awake and coherent, although it was early yet to tell how long that would last.

A small sob made him look back.

The girl's eyes peeked at him through a veil of tears. "I couldn't find her," she sniffed, wiping at her nose with a sleeve. "Not anywhere."

He watched her face for a long moment. "Sorry," he said finally. "I didn't see her."

Or anyone, for that matter.

"Why… why would anyone do that?" her figure was brittle but strong as she stared down at the devastation below. She would survive, he could tell. "Did we do something wrong?"

He had no answer to give her. Things like these - people things - were beyond his scope.

"Shit, he's not looking good. What happened?"

"Packard shot at him... but I was so sure Hawkeye got to him before he could pull the trigger-"

"It was my fault, sir. I was too slow - I didn't even notice his injury, I was so focused on Packard that I ignored everything else."

"It didn't help that he was so quiet, either - it was easy to overlook him, and he didn't even cry out in pain or anything."

"By the time we noticed anything was wrong, he was already bleeding out pretty heavily.."

"What – what now?" she asked tremblingly. "What do I do now?"

He stepped closer to her and kneeled, bringing him to her eye level. His eyes, reflecting the sunset, looked into her eyes contemplatively.

She tensed under the piercing, measuring gaze, but held very still.

"I guess you come with me. If you want."

The autumn wind blew and whistled softly, causing the dry leaves to swirl around the girl's feet. The sun was dimming in the distance, turning red and casting everything in long, warm shadows. He stood and closed his eyes against the gale, imagining being able to feel it. He could feel her eyes on him, measuring, wondering – and he heard the telling little gasp when she finally noticed and figured it out.

To her credit and his surprise, she didn't scream or run away. Just stared at him in child-like wonder. "So that's what Mama meant," she said slowly, awestruck.

"What?"

"When she said my papa's familia is watched by angels."

It took him a moment to figure out what she meant. "I'm not an angel."

"Then what?" she asked skeptically, crossing her arms.

He shrugged, looked away. He didn't like thinking about those kinds of things.

"What's your name?"

"I don't…" he paused, reconsidered. "Ward?"

Someone had called him that, once. It had felt nice… he thought. Maybe? It was hard to remember.

He turned to the girl, suddenly curious. "What are you called?"

"Isabelle. Isabelle Enkelbert."

"What about you two? Are you all right?"

"As well as can be expected, sir."

"Better than Ward, anyway." Someone was wiping the sweat off his forehead. "Poor guy. That's some first day for a secretary."

"Speaking of which, I've been meaning to ask your opinion, Riza. What do you think of the newest addition to the staff?"

"Isabelle Enkelbert," he echoed. He blinked. "Enkelbert?" he frowned.

For the first time since Ward came across the girl, Isabelle smiled.

"In my papa's language, it means 'bright angel.'"

"He bears some work... but I think he'll do just fine."

A/N: I'm kind of nervous about this chapter - I feel like I'm giving a lot away... and I'm not sure if it's time yet, or if I should hold my cards for yet another couple chapters... so I really hope you guys appreciate it. I'm looking forward to hear everyone's reactions as we get another look into Ward's past... and if you're clever - able to see 'underneath the underneath', as it were - you'll find I am telling you a heck of a lot...

That's it for now. Hope everyone enjoyed!