A/N: This is a tag to Peace, at the end of the day, by kalirush. It's an excellent Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood AU that sees Mustang and Hawkeye both imprisoned for war crimes, as told through the lens of Sam, a new guard at Mustang's prison. If you haven't read it, go do that first. It's absolutely worth it.
Inspiration/background: The things that stuck with me after Peace were a) we didn't get to see Hawkeye visit Mustang, and b) Sam himself: his engagement with his job, eye for detail, and penchant for research all interested me.
This is set a month or two after Peace. Sam's warmed up to Mustang a little, but still can't reconcile the reputation and the person. He thinks that if Mustang were free, and reunited with Hawkeye, then he'd probably reveal a more vicious and violent self. Sam dislikes the idea of seeing the Butcher of Ishval overshadow the calm and kind man that he's getting to know. Needless to say, he has some mixed feelings about Hawkeye's release and upcoming visit.
Disclaimer: I definitely don't own FMA, and I'm not making money off of this fic. Sam's not mine, either, I'm just borrowing him from the gracious kalirush.
Rating: K+, just for surrounding events. Clean, angst fluff. No specific warnings for this one.
And finally, if you have a moment, I'd love to hear what you thought of it. Enjoy! :)
Riza Hawkeye is a small woman with a cool stare, and a neat pile of blond hair. Her face is expressionless, and her stride is purposeful. Sam's glad that she's walking in front of him- he wouldn't want her at his back.
If he had his way, Hawkeye would never be allowed anywhere near Mustang. Sure, the man is mild mannered on his own, but once he's face to face with her, that may be another story. After all, it's well known that the sniper was one of Mustang's top operatives, his most loyal follower. Who was to say that seeing her wouldn't awaken old ideas, rekindle past ambitions?
Mustang is lying on his bunk, clearly not expecting them. He's not sleeping, but thinking. Sam's surprised, yet again, by the obvious depth of sadness that accompanies Mustang's thoughts. It's not self-pity or anger, it hardly seems personal at all. It, like his thought, seems directed somewhere far away.
Mustang hears them coming and looks up, freezing when he sees who his guest is, caught absurdly half sitting, still braced to rise. Then he smiles, a small smile, so quiet and real and human that it's hard to remember who he is and what he's done. It's the same look Sam's seen on train station platforms when two seemingly unconnected people see one another, their eyes lock together, and they hold each other before they're close enough to actually embrace.
It's Mustang who reaches out to be shackled per procedure, and Sam who nearly forgets. The smile, colored with a little friendly amusement, is turned on him for a moment before shifting back to Hawkeye. She sweeps in as soon as the door is open, and they stand, facing one another.
"All well?" Mustang asks, when she doesn't speak, a crease of concern lining his face.
"Aye, sir," she says quietly, and her mask falls away to reveal an answering smile, small but bright. He relaxes at the sight of it, his eyes soften. The quiet relief that settles over them leaves Sam feeling as if he's intruding. This isn't merely the meeting of plotting criminals, or two disgraced soldiers, but the reunion of two people who are desperately glad to see one other.
It's nothing like proper procedure, but Sam half turns away to give them a modicum of privacy, even as he keeps a sharp eye on them in his peripherals. It's not the way it ought to be done, and he could get in trouble for bending the rules like this. There's a line between prudence and decency, though (and he thinks he maybe understands George a bit better now.)
It's a short interview, of course. They don't talk about anything in particular, except that at one point, Hawkeye tells Mustang in no uncertain terms that she won't give up on getting him out. Mustang scowls and looks like he's about to argue. He restrains himself, though, swallowing the words, simply inclining his head. She looks satisfied, and a little bit sad, and then the conversation moves to other people. Sam recognizes the names of the Elric brothers and Fuery, most of the rest are unfamiliar to him. He waits, an eye on his watch, shifting back towards them when their time is up.
"I'll write," Mustang says finally, as they rise together. His gaze is intense, but he looks nervous, too. Uncertain.
Hawkeye smiles in reply. "I know," she says gently, answering whatever words had lain underneath that promise. "Of course."
It's only as Sam ushers Hawkeye out, sending a nearby guard to escort her away and searching for the right key, that he realizes:
While Mustang is never any trouble, always polite, and considerate, and very quiet, he's also perpetually wary. For the few minutes that Hawkeye had been there, Mustang had been entirely at ease. As soon as she was gone, the subtle tension had returned, the walls snapped back into place. Hawkeye has taken his trust away with her, and Sam wonders.
He knows, of course, about Mustang's group. They visit, they write, and after years, they haven't let go. Sam wonders what it is about this man that makes people grab onto him, and refuse to be shaken off by judgement, or prison, or time.
"Thanks, Sam," Mustang says, breaking him out of his thoughts, surprising him. The man has rarely called him by name before, perhaps sensing his unease. His eyes are clear, and Sam knows that his rule bending didn't go unnoticed. The small quirk of the lips says that it will never be mentioned to another soul. And maybe that's his answer, isn't it?
"Just doing my job," Sam replies noncommittally, moving away. He makes his rounds mechanically, lost in thought.
It never occurred to him before to consider the Butcher- the Flame Alchemist's, rather- perspective of the horrors in Ishval. To wonder just why Mustang had done what he had. Those questions are unavoidable now, so he faces them.
The state alchemists had been soldiers, too, hadn't they? They'd had their own orders, their own superiors, people and positions hanging over them. Something had been rotten in the Bradley administration, even if no one knew the details. Educated as he was in the interim between military state and fledgling democracy, the narrative that Sam knows is scrambled, and while he's researched individuals, of course- it pays to know about the people he's guarding- he's never looked further than that.
Perhaps, he reflects, it's time to look into the bigger picture of the Ishavlan Genocide.
A/N:
Hawkeye is out of prison on parole. She won't be allowed to visit Mustang often, or for very long at a time, so they'll continue to write back and forth frequently.
Sam has an erosive mind, the sort of mind that works through things slowly and inexorably. Now that he's grabbed on to these questions and ideas, he'll keep looking for answers. Where that search will take him is more of a story than I wanted to write here, though, and remains open-ended.
The prison actually intended to have more of a group witness the meeting between Mustang and Hawkeye, but found themselves shorthanded. There's a bug going around the guards of the solitary block, so they settled with Sam inside the cell, and several guards making regular rounds outside.
I found myself thinking a lot about education during power transfers. The narrative depends a lot on who's running the schools, and how dramatically public opinion shifts. I'm guessing in the chaos after Bradley, the common understanding of Amestrian history was thrown into equal chaos.
Retrouvaille is one of those beautiful words that cannot be directly translated, and can be defined multiple ways. It comes from French, and can be translated as describing the quiet joy of reunion or rediscovery, especially after a long separation.