Colonel Roy Mustang cheerfully held the phone to his ear, his feet propped hazardously upon the desk in front of him, and he spun the cord around his fingers enthusiastically as he cooed and praised the voice on the other end flirtatiously. His free hand tightly gripped a fresh pen, Lieutenant Hawkeye had quite recently replaced the black ink cartridge within it, knowing it was his favorite without having to prompt him. He tapped it a couple times on a pad of paper to get the ink flowing, and began scribbling out notes in a handwriting that few people could read when he wasn't making an effort to be neat, now not being one of those occasions, though the illegible scribbles were something that was aiding him at the moment rather than hurting.
"Is that right, Elizabeth, you're that busy that you can't even spare a few hours to meet me for dinner?" The General falsely pouted, aware that those in his direct command line would be aware of the coded conversation after having experienced it so often in their workplace, but still choosing to engage in it in the chance someone else may stumble in and hear something they simply were not supposed to be hearing.
"I'm afraid I have too many customers to deal with this evening, I'm sorry." The feminine voice hummed in response, filling his chest with a sense of comfort and safety despite their distance. "This afternoon I'm due to meet a few customers down the block, then tomorrow evening I should be ready to head off to check in at a different location."
"I see, a lot of customers left to handle?" He jotted some notes absentmindedly, though he was well aware he would remember the entirety of their conversation well, committing her words to memory without having to put intention into it, it was simply how they worked.
"Not too many, two left tonight that look like they're still close enough to wander in, and six expected tomorrow." Her voice was guarded and the volume had softened a bit. "Perhaps I'll call you back tonight, huh? I think a customer is arriving now actually." she readied her sight, and gazed through it at the short statured man entering her wide view, perhaps five hundred feet from the foot of the building that she was propped high up in the top floor of, glad that she was fortunate enough to find a good angle from a window and balcony as options rather than having to brave the northern winter from the roof.
"I see, well you stay safe Elizabeth!" The General heartily laughed, though the two knew that the statement had not been simply a joke, it was an order from her commanding officer, whatever you do, don't die. "Perhaps you'll be ready to meet me for breakfast the day following tomorrow?"
Understanding his order and his request, Riza was happy to comply, and ever so ready to return back to Central where she could keep her focus entirely on protecting the General, though realizing that her remote work was important, she would far rather be positive of his safety. "I think so, I'm thinking we can pack up shop here tomorrow night and be back on a train heading home before nightfall."
"Call me tonight so I know you got home safe after your shift at the store?" General Mustang asked, though the request was again, a silent order that he must be informed of her safety. He valued her intellect and skill, though he never felt quite as safe as when she was beside him, watching his back and providing him all of the confidence he required to muster forward all of the strength and skill required to move towards becoming the someday Fuhrer of Amestris.
"Of course, I'd never miss out on checking on you either, I'll call you tonight, I have to handle this customer." She replied curtly, hanging up the line by pressing a button on her earpiece. She readied herself, waiting for the perfect shot, and upon framing her view and aiming her gun precisely, a bullet shot silently through the air, meeting its aim perfectly centered through the heart of the enemy approaching. His nearby comrade quickly approached his fallen form, spinning about as he attempted to find the source of the death sentence, but found nothing. He picked up a radio, and as he began to shout a code into the comm, Riza swiftly dispatched him as well, years of training and unfortunate experience guiding her perfectly sound shot. This mission was to be a simple one spanning three days, she was sent with a small crew from East City as her companions, and they were stationed at a small town just south of Fort Briggs. A small group of Drachman spies were thought to be in the area, and they had malicious plans for the General. General Armstrong from Briggs had been determined to send her own soldiers, but Mustang had insisted upon sending a crew of his selection, as he didn't want to raise any suspicion as the men of Briggs departed the stony walls of their asylum from the cold, and the nation's best defense towards attack. So he had sent her, the Hawk's Eyes, and his greatest soldier and confidant. He trusted nobody to carry this mission out as much as he trusted her. He grinned, stowing away his scribbled notes in a manilla folder labelled simply "Northern Mission" alongside the official mission documents and allowances, and placed it neatly at the front of his filing cabinet, alongside all of the meticulously organized files that had gathered there throughout his time working in Central. He turned to his desk once more, where a stack nearly six inches high of paperwork sat incomplete, and he sorely missed the company of his adjunct who made the paperwork go so much quicker when she was by his side. He painstakingly pulled the first file from the top of the stack, and buried his nose in it, working through lunch instead of eating, and through the end of the day. By the time the stack was nearly complete, aside from a few documents that needed resent, or sent elsewhere for further permissions or signatures, his eyes were darkened and tired, and he stretched his hands over his head, swivelling his chair around to gaze out the window. Central City was met with the last of the golden light from the sun setting upon her, the very last sliver of orange orb slipping below the horizon, and the streets were beginning to quiet down for the evening. Roy stood, gazing out the window, wondering what the sunset might look like that evening over the snow covered terrain of the north. He had never been one for sentimentality, but he supposed also that he had never spent the time to consider the way the sun looked on different terrain than that he was used to.
The hourly chime of the clock brought him from his wandering thoughts, and counting the chimes, he furrowed his brows, as surely the clock had been wrong when he counted nine. Upon viewing the clock, his confusion was confirmed, and a deep seeded worry began to fill his being. Why had Captain Hawkeye not called to check in and confirm her safety yet? What could possibly be going on? Had an unexpected blizzard rendered their phones and radios useless, so she had been unable to contact him? She would have typically called him hours ago for a covert end of day summary and confirmation of her and her team's safety, she had the night before at just before seven in the evening, so why had she not yet called? Surely, his imagination was getting the best of him, he reasoned, sitting back in his chair with a grunt. She had never forgotten before, so it was unlikely she had forgotten, though he reasoned there must be an outside cause behind the lack of communication from the succinct and well-planned woman. The northern winters were unpredictable, so surely she was dealing with weather factors at the very least, if not caring for her team and checking in with their commander from East City. So he sat, and he waited, not wanting to call her and interrupt anything transpiring.
Not realizing how tired he had been, when the office filled with the surreal sound of the phone's chimes, he found his face pressed to the wood of his desk, and his hair and uniform in disarray. Swiftly answering the phone before the third ring, he cheerfully played up his role, and greeted the other end with a "Hey babe, I was starting to worry about ya!" Silence met his ears, followed by a muffled noise that sounded far too abnormal for a standard call, and he was suddenly as awake as he had ever been. The dimly lit office allowed him to see that the hour hand of the clock appeared to be at eleven, but perhaps it was ten, it was hard to tell. "Elizabeth?" He asked, a bit louder.
"Hey Roy." An unfamiliar voice met his ears, in all of its sarcastic ability. "Nice to hear from ya, who's Elizabeth?"
"Who is this?" He demanded, tearing the cap from his pen off, sending it rolling away under his feet. His heart was racing and his tongue was unable to come up with the words to approach the scenario with, desperately hoping it was someone on Hawkeye's team pranking him.
"Cut the shit, General, you know full and well who this is." The masculine voice snickered.
"How did you get this phone number, it is a military line." Roy demanded, his nails digging into the desk.
"Oh, I just had your lovely little subordinate dial, she's sitting right here, Roy. I hear she's a Captain now, yeah?" Mustang could hear the smirk through his statement, and his body was sending off panic signals. "Wanna talk to her?"
"What is going on?" He demanded again, rudely shouting into the phone. "If this is a prank I will have your rank and your dishonorable discharge paperwork will be in before you can even think about apologizing!" Roy silently prayed to a God that he wasn't sure existed, or if he believed in, that he was simply at the end of some terrible, awful, prank meant to ruin him.
"Okay, I'll put her on if you don't believe me, but don't even bother messing around with your coded talk, because I know that this is Captain Riza Hawkeye, and not Elizabeth like you immediately addressed her. You talk to her then we can sort out this plan." The voice chuckled, and Roy was rapidly writing down his every word, desperately hoping a clue lay within his words, terrified that he was not amid an awful nightmare, and that this situation was not true, that his precious subordinate officer, his precious Lieutenant was not in enemy hands.
"Hello, General." Her firm and stoic voice met his ears, a wave of joy and relief flowing through him as he heard her, combined with immediate fear as he recognized that the earlier threat was not empty.
"Captain, what's going on, are you injured?" He rattled off quickly, hearing a choked cough silented and muffled on the opposing end.
"It doesn't matter, Sir, are you safe?" She asked rapidly, as though her time on the phone was limited and she had to speak quickly to have the entire conversation before that time ran out. "Why are you at headquarters so late? No matter, don't leave, call in Grumman and don't you dare leave, keep yourself safe."
"Hawkeye slow down, I'm safe, what's going on?" Roy asked, and the sound of a struggle followed his request. "What's going on?" He repeated louder, the panic showing through his voice despite his intending it to not be evident.
"Well, here's the ultimatum, Sir, you know we have your Captain and that she's alive for now, but she won't be for long. We're wiring you an address, if you come alone, we'll send her off on her cheerful way, if not, we kill her. If you so much as dare to bring a battalion, or another officer, or even another damned state alchemist with you, she's getting a bullet to her head." Behind the masculine voice, he heard two solid taps ring out, immediately catching his attention and the insults and threats of the men were silent to him, hearing her unspoken clue.
"General!" Hawkeye's voice pierced through the air as she shouted, desperate for him to hear her, though her voice was interjected by the sound of what he could only interpret as his subordinate being punched. Her voice wasn't laced by the fear that a typical hostage would hold, rather laced with concern and stern orders, despite the opposing line being her superior officer. He listened carefully, knowing that she was too strong to be cut down this easily by an enemy, and that surely the forces holding her were significantly stronger than her and her team had expected. Surely they weren't watching her back in the way that she was watching theirs, the thought caused the blood in his veins to boil. "General, forget saving me, please.." She paused just long enough for the man to know she was giving him their coded message, a way they had long learned to speak to one another. "Lucy will be alright, she's at Olivier's still, my Venus flytrap and Earthstar plants won't need watered frequently. Take care of things while I'm gone, alright?" She taps twice again, in what her captors likely understood as frustration as she hid the sentiment of her words with well faked frustration, but she had faith in her acting.
His pen hit the paper quicker than he had ever moved in his life, scribbling her statements down, using the cluewords she had carefully chosen to not raise suspicion, but he knew immediately her code. Lucy, L, Olivier, O, Venus, V, Earthstar, E….. Love. She was saying goodbye. Tears threatened to spill over his eyelashes as he held back all of the anger set deep into his chest.
"I… I'll come." His graven voice erupted from his throat before he thought twice about what it meant for him. He would contact Grumman, he would call in his team, and they would figure this out, he had to figure this out and find her, and she would never allow him to walk into a trap like that. But if it meant burning whatever godforsaken building they were holding her in down around them to get her out, he would do it. He would do anything for her. A sound of satisfaction, and the phone clicked.
The scream of Hawkeye begging Mustang to remain in the safety of Central Command rang loudly in his ears long after the phone was simply hung up, the hum of a dead line filling the office. With a sense of panic he had never before felt, he swiftly dialed the memorized phone number of Jean Havok, telling him as quickly as he could to arrive at command, that Hawkeye was in danger. Following the call by a few others, he finally called Grumman, Riza's own grandfather. His voice was full of surprise and fear, then an overwhelming sense of calm that Mustang was unsure how he was able to create. He supposed it was after years of learning to focus on keeping the emotion away from work, though he figured this time it would not be easy. Not for him, or any of his team. He stated that he would arrive on site soon, and that he was not to initiate any contact or create any plans without him present. Upon finishing his necessary calls, he found himself quickly pacing the floor of the office in a way he was sure would leave lines and scuffs in patterns not dissimilar to that of a caged tiger walking the perimeter of his housing. Never had he felt this powerless, this frustrated, this… lost. He was caged in his own office, with nowhere to go and no way to help the cause he so desperately wanted to solve, left only to pacing and frustration and fear seeping into his mind. In his head he pleads with some higher force, whether it be God, or Truth, or anything else, sending his desperation elsewhere. He knew better though, Truth did not take requests or respond to desperate pleas and he knew so much, Truth only exchanged, but he had given nothing and they had taken his everything, and Hawkeye was in trouble, and dammit, that was not equivalent exchange.
He ran his hands forcefully through his hair as he thought, eventually finding himself collapsing into the chair at his desk. Suddenly, he wished that he had never sent her on a mission without him, though he knew she was capable of caring for herself, clearly her team was incapable of protecting her. He should have gone with her, if she needed to go. He regretted making her his assistant, for damning her to standing by his side in the military and allowing her to get into situations such as this, despite knowing she had chosen this life. He regretted meeting her again in Ishval, wishing she had never had to go to such a terrible place to commit such terrible sins by his side, sins they had promised each other that they would atone to together as they moved forward, and as she promised to stay beside him as he worked towards becoming the Fuhrer of the nation. He wished with his entire being that he had never heard of her father, that he had never chosen to ask him to be his teacher and to be an apprentice under him. He regretted his time spent there, taking the last scraps of a parent that she had away from her, even though her father had been cruel and terrible to her, perhaps he wouldn't have been had Roy not gone there. Perhaps if he had never met her, she might be living her life as a farmer, or a seamstress, a wife, mother, anything she put her mind to she could have achieved had he not tainted her life with himself. Perhaps she would be a real grocer, and not a code grocer living by a pretend name while she carried out missions to keep him safe. All that she did, she pledged to keep him safe, but he didn't keep her safe, not this time. She had stopped him from killing Envy, had told him that if she were to shoot him, she would follow it by killing herself as well, as she would not go on without him. She had stood by his side through every terribly, gruesome battle he had ever fought, she had valiantly protected him and everything he loved, and had held his hopes and dreams and goals to her heart as her own. She had promised to follow him into Hell, if he so asked, and she had completed missions that were as close as one could get to Hell on Earth, yet she had stayed, committed, beside him. He had watched her demand he not commit the unforgivable sin of human transmutation as she bled out on the floor, her life had been fading but she had made him promise to leave her, to move on, but he knew then and he knew now that he could not do that. Never in his life had he felt so alive and grateful as the moment Mei had stopped her bleeding and he held her to his chest. She stood beside him as he was promoted to Brigadier General, and he had stood by hers as she had become a Captain, despite her rank, remaining as his adjunct at his side. She had dedicated her own life to his, her own career to advancing his own, and expected nothing in return. She had told him without a word that she was proud of him, that she expected great things from him, that she loved him. God, the girl he met as a child in a broken home, who had been vulnerable in teaching him her darkest secret, and had placed her trust in him to destroy it; she had given him her whole being, and expected nothing.
In all of her stoic, powerful, sharp-eyed, wonderful glory, in every sense of compassion and wonder and beauty and pure and unadulterated essence of Riza Hawkeye, she had been beside him. And he had not been beside her for this, and she had been captured. Years upon years of silent commands and conversations through eye contact, and even through the message a silent phone line sent, he had never trusted any other person as he had trusted her. She was his first and closest friend, and he was helplessly committed to her, whether the military disallowed it or not, and he was aware of her reciprocation. They didn't need to hear the 'I love you''s, or need the frivolous terminology that traditional couples shared, they had something much deeper, a connection that few humans ever felt or experienced, and they were irreplaceable to each other. They were inseparable, connected, and hopelessly, selflessly, in love. That is why hearing it from her on the line moments ago had him so rattled, surely, having not needed to hear those words to know of their dedication, why did she feel he needed to hear it now? He knew that the statement had been for him, and not for her, so why did she feel that he needed it?
His hands folded ahead of him, and his face slowly followed it, burying his features within his hands as if the world would disappear around him if he did so, and she would be in front of him, stone faced, reminding him to staple his paperwork so she wouldn't have to sort through it the following day to reorganize documents into their appropriate files, in his desk, that she had clearly handled tending to. He felt useless, but he knew he couldn't fold, he wouldn't hesitate to protect her. She would not have done so to protect him, and he sure as hell was not going to allow them to take her away from him, as she surely wouldn't have ever gotten into this situation unless something truly terrible was occurring for it to happen.
As his dear friends filed into the office, meeting the grave face of their superior, they were aware that they were signing up for what could easily become a war if Mustang had his way. His dearest Riza Hawkeye was their friend and confidant and fellow soldier, and they respected her and loved her dearly, it went unspoken that their small crew was close and valued one another deeply. The looks on their faces were filled with disgust and fear and anger, and he knew that they would not hesitate in following through with his plans, whatever they may be, if it meant that they could have her back. Captain Riza Hawkeye had never let them down, and they sure as hell were not going to let her die for their safety if they had the power to save her. And if they did not have that power, they would surely be creating it.