AN: "riza is in the hospital but has flasbacks to the tattoo when she sees the doctors ate gonna use needles" – anon

Ishval was cold and unforgiving and that was the same for the medical staff who patched up the wounded on the front lines. Their job was efficiency - keep as many soldiers alive as possible but do the job as quick as possible. There was no care, no bedside manner, just a quick fix for something that needed long-term care. The higher ups didn't care. They just needed their pawns to be back up on their feet quickly so they could be gun fodder again. It didn't matter if that would make things worse for the patient in the long run. As long as they were hitting targets and the Fuhrer was happy with the progress, that's all that mattered.

Riza was lain - none too gently - on her back upon a wooden cot. She hissed in pain, scrunching up her eyes. Agony flared in her right side where she'd been stabbed by an Ishvalan. When it happened, she wished her comrades hadn't come to help her. She wished the man had killed her. If he had, it would've gotten her out of this nightmare.

Hands removed her military jacket and tore at the shirt underneath to give them access to the wound. Hot air washed over the gash as the desert winds blew through the medical tent and Riza gasped, her mind imaging thousands of tiny bits of sand being trapped inside the wound.

Voices spoke above her, shadows moved as they prepared to quickly patch her up. Something glinted in the sunlight that had just managed to poke through the tent door in that moment.

A needle.

Her breathing quickened, taking her back to her childhood home as her father's weight held her down on his desk. The tattoo needle bit into her skin, making it feel like there were a thousand tiny knives stabbing her all at once. A familiar feeling of loneliness, helplessness, and despair washed over Riza on that cot in Ishval. Her chest heaved as she began to panic. She tried to shuffle away from the offending instrument. The voices picked up in volume and hands began to restrain her. Just like her father's hands had done.

Tears began to escape. She no longer knew where she was. Riza had often thought Ishval reminded her of her home in her hellish childhood. The only light in that darkness she'd had was Roy, but he'd left her. Because he'd left, her father had turned Riza into his notebook so that she could pass his work onto Roy - probably the only person Berthold Hawkeye cared about in his later life.

I just want Roy, she'd wished in her mind, whimpers leaving her as the pressure on her shoulders increased. Pain stabbed her side and she let out a yell. She began to struggle, thinking that this time she wouldn't let her father win.

He was too strong. The pain flared again as he continued to work on that damned tattoo and Riza thrashed, managing to slip out the hold on her shoulders. She tried to escape, trying to roll off her father's desk.

Something pricked her neck and her body instantly grew limp. A tear escaped, rolling down her cheek. Once more, Riza hadn't been able to escape Berthold's hold on her. She slipped away as more tears fell down her face.

Riza's eyes flew open and were met with darkness. Beige material fluttered over her head, bringing the smell of the desert with it. That was strange. The last thing she remembered was being in her father's office -

There were shouts in the distance, followed by gunfire.

Right. She was in Ishval. She wasn't in her father's office. That had been a weird fever dream.

Sighing heavily, Riza brought a hand to her face to cover it. Her body threatened to shake as her emotions started to overwhelm her.

Once more, she wished the Ishvalan had killed her yesterday.

"Hey," a quiet voice greeted.

Her eyes flew open underneath her hand. Removing it and looking down the cot she spied Major Mustang offering her a relieved smile. She swallowed thickly and lowered her hand, nodding in greeting. "Sir."

"How are you feeling?"

This was the first time she'd properly spoken to him after their initial meeting. After that moment a small part of her no longer felt so alone in this war zone, however that had been a week ago and their paths had never crossed since. She'd heard rumors of him being sent to the front lines and heard the higher ups praising him, talking about how pleased they were with the work he was doing.

They were pleased with how many people he was killing. The thought almost made her sick.

"Fine," she replied, cringing internally at the sound of her own voice. It was hoarse, betraying how she really felt, which was not good at all.

"Riza -"

"I'm fine, sir," she cut him off quickly. "Just a misstep."

Major Mustang sighed and stood from the chair by the foot of her bed. He lifted it, moving it to beside her head.

"You don't make missteps," he replied softly.

"How would you know?" It held more bite to it than she would have liked, but it was true.

"Because I watched you grow up shooting and I watched you wrestle an injured deer expertly so we could have it for dinner that night." He reached out for her hand hesitantly but grasped her fingers in his. "You don't make missteps in a fight."

How could she tell him that a brief thought had crossed her mind yesterday? That if she was just to hesitate a moment longer the Ishvalan would remove her from this hell and she'd no longer be in so much pain and suffering?

Tears threatened to spill over. She didn't deserve an escape like that, and apparently the universe didn't think so either. It brought her back to earth with a rough bump in the form of a burning wound in her side. She couldn't leave yet. She still had to pay for all the innocent lives she'd taken in this war.

A tear finally spilled down her cheek.

"They told me what happened in the triage room." His eyes met hers with concern, his thumb stroking the back of her hand. "What happened, Riza?"

She broke.

"I was back there," she whispered, body beginning to shake. "When I saw the needle, I was back with him -" Her chest was heaving now with breaths as she tried and failed to hold it all in.

"It's okay, I understand." Mustang removed his hand from hers and she opened her mouth to protest in a moment of weakness. What shocked her more was he climbed into the cot next to her. It really wasn't big enough for two people, but Roy managed to make himself fit. "Say no more." His arms wrapped around her.

"But what about -?"

"It's all right," he reassured her, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. "Hughes is outside standing guard. He figured you needed this. Figured we both needed this." She froze. "Get some rest, Riza," he murmured into her hair, then he chuckled, the sound reverberating through his chest in which her head was pressed up against. "That's an order."

Another few tears fell down her cheeks, but she nodded, burrowing herself deeper into his chest.

In a rare moment of weakness - one she really didn't deserve - yes, Riza found she really did need this. After a lifetime of feeling abandoned and feeling helpless, she needed to be cared for. It was a reminder of why she couldn't give up just yet. She still had work to do to redeem herself and pay for her sins.