A/N: I'm SO sorry for being late this week, everyone! I started regular shifts for the summer at my job, and it's got me pretty tired by the time I got home; for that reason, I completely forgot about updating.
As it so happens, I am turning this particular oneshot into a comic; I'm up to four pages and only a quarter of the way done, so we'll see how long it takes! To avoid confusion, this is set after Conqueror of Shamballa. HAPPY ROYAI WEEK!
I do not own FMA.
Fifty-one - Embracing From the Back
Havoc was waiting for him as he approached Central Command for the second time that day. Being back here felt odd after so long in the north, but it felt right. This was where he really belonged.
The sandy-haired man saluted when Roy was within earshot. "Glad you got back safely, sir. That was good work."
"Thanks; I'm glad you made it through all right." Scanning the surrounding area, filled with civilians, soldiers, rubble, and suits of armour, Roy shook his head at the destruction. "What's the death toll?"
"They're still counting," Havoc said grimly. "Last I heard, it was just over one hundred."
Standing there, at the base of the stairs to the main entrance, they watched the movements of the people. Medical facilities were being set up from trucks or in buildings surrounding the plaza, with the injured gathering near them and undergoing triage. Those with the most serious wounds were seen to first, others waiting patiently for their turn. Military personnel and civilians were sifting through building wreckage for anyone buried in the rubble. Corpses were laid out in orderly rows, respectfully covered with tarpaulins. Breda joined them within minutes, followed shortly after by Falman and Fuery. The only one missing was . . . .
"Have any of you seen Lieutenant Hawkeye?" Roy asked, arms folded, his right eye still searching the people in the plaza for that one familiar face.
The voice that went with it echoed from behind the little group. "What are you all standing around for?" As one, the five men turned to see the woman in question coming down the steps from the base carrying a stack of blankets. Two young men in uniform followed behind her, similarly burdened.
Dropping her stack into Havoc's arms, she pointed him toward a growing group of people that were huddled to one side of the plaza. "Take these over there; Breda, go with him and help hand them out." Both men stared at her, before glancing at Roy; were they supposed to obey her orders, or his?
Hawkeye's attention shifted to Fuery; he twitched involuntarily. "We need to request special aid from the other bases. Take Falman to help you organize a list of supplies." Without waiting for a reply, she turned and started back up the stairs to the headquarters' entrance.
Clearing his throat uneasily, Falman looked to his newly returned commanding officer. "Sir? What do we do?"
"I said move," Hawkeye's voice snapped from halfway up the steps. The four junior officers jumped, startled.
Roy sighed, then headed after his adjutant. "You heard the lady," he told the others. "Hop to it." Four pairs of footsteps hurried off as he continued after Hawkeye, watching for her to turn around. She was obviously angry, and he was positive that it was directed at him. Reaching the top of the stairs, he picked up his pace. "Hey, Hawkeye! Wait up!"
She glanced back at him, then faced forward and kept walking. Catching up, Roy fell into step beside her. "I know I've said that Central is boring, but today was overkill in breaking the monotony," he commented, trying to break the ice. "It's been a while since we've been in an all-out battle like that."
Hawkeye didn't answer, didn't even look at him. She still wore her helmet, Roy noted; she was pure business and no amount of humour or casual commentary on his part would break her out of that. He had to meet her on her level, had to get serious, take her anger head-on, and let her blow off steam.
Taking hold of her arm, he towed her sideways into an empty office, and then let go. He closed the door, locked it and faced her.
Her expression was perfectly blank – too perfectly. He knew from experience just how tight a leash she kept on her emotions, and as well as he knew her, he was certain that, just underneath the surface, there was something that was pure rage and cold fury.
"I just saw you two hours ago and the first thing you did was smile," he said, folding his arms. "Did you get sick of me that fast?"
Her voice was soft when she finally spoke. "Do you have any idea of how much you've put your men through?"
It wasn't the question he was expecting; Roy frowned in puzzlement. "What?"
"It's nothing short of a miracle that none of us were discharged from the service for what we did," she said, ignoring his confusion. "Major Armstrong had to pull every string within reach at the Investigations Office just to make sure none of us wound up in prison, let alone for us to stay in Central. While you —" The finger she pointed at him suddenly seemed as dangerous as a knife. "— just lit out for the north without telling anyone what you were up to."
Lifting both hands in a placating gesture, Roy ventured forward a step. "I just needed some time to sort things out. Losing a body part isn't that easy, Riza."
Her eyes narrowed at the use of her first name. "Don't you talk to me about losing something important. Three years, Roy. Three. Years." Reaching up, she slid the helmet off her head, and dropped it on a nearby desk with a loud thunk!. "That's how long I've been waiting to hear something — anything — from you. And I'm not the only one!"
Her arm shot out, pointing toward the plaza. "Those four men who followed you from East City to Central, the four men that you specifically handpicked, were waiting just as long as I was! All we knew was that you were in the north, at some forsaken little guardpost. We didn't know how you were doing, what you were doing . . . you could have been killed in a border skirmish with Drachma, and we wouldn't have known!
"For a month and a half after you left, I don't think Fuery ever left the office; he was that busy trying to find where you'd gone, and keeping up with the work. I'd come in in the morning and find him asleep, face-down on his desk. Falman tried to help him as much as he could, but he had his own work to deal with. Breda lost about fifteen pounds, and Havoc – Havoc didn't smoke for a year."
Roy tensed as she folded her arms, still glaring. When she didn't continue, he spoke up. "And what about you?"
"Other than trying to keep us all together, you don't need to know what I did," she said darkly, finally looking away.
Dammit . . . she cried, didn't she . . . .
He took the opportunity to inch forward another step. "Riza . . . I'm sorry. I needed to get away and think. I'm only human, and it's not uncommon to feel the way I did when an injury like mine is sustained. You and I both know that, from Ishval." He spread his hands. "I'm not perfect, Riza."
Evaluating him for a moment, she turned away, moving to the office's window and looking out at the grounds below. ". . . . Leaving for the north without a word is only one reason why I'm angry with you," she said quietly.
". . . Oh?" She seemed calmer now, at least compared to earlier. The tension had gone out of her shoulders once her yelling was over.
"When you were going after Edward and Alphonse in that balloon," Riza said, her gaze still on the view outside. "'There's only room for one.'" A pause. "That has got to be the most insulting thing you've ever said to me."
Roy looked down as guilt started trickling in. She was right — for him to say that to her, of all people, was an affront to everything she'd ever done for him. She'd fought beside him in Ishval, dedicated her life and career to keeping him out of more trouble than he could handle, and saved him more than once. She'd put her career on the line to help him in his coup attempt, and stayed with him through his recovery from the loss of his eye. He'd disappeared for three years, leaving her to pick up the pieces, and returned only to shove her aside and hurl himself headlong into danger. She had every right to be angry with him.
Moving around the desk occupying much of the office's floorspace, he approached Riza cautiously, watching for any sign that she was about to turn and beat the living daylights out of him. She kept her arms folded tightly, her eyes focussed on the plaza outside, watching the recovery effort as he stopped behind her.
Roy slipped both arms around her, hugging her gently from the back. She'd kill him for this under normal circumstances, but in this particular moment, the gesture seemed more appropriate. Her sideswept bangs tickled his forehead as he tucked his chin over her shoulder, watching the plaza with her.
Long moments ticked past, and he was about to let go when her left hand shifted and covered his. Otherwise, she was perfectly still.
"I'm sorry," he said at last, quietly so as not to ruin the moment.
Out of the corner of his good eye, he saw her lips twitch in a small smile; not one of victory at his apology, but one that showed she understood. "I know."
