Fire Fight
"So Riza..."
Don't use my name lightly you trash! Riza thought, as what had happened began to sink in- was hammered in by his next words.
"Are you busy tonight?"
"Of course she's not!" Major Nialsen laughed. "Don't be so shy, Riza, we're not exclusive!"
We're nothing, you bastard... Riza thought, feeling at least as tired as she did outraged. But the outrage subsided, though the tiredness remained, and a strange calm feeling began to accompany it. Distantly, Riza heard the man's enthusiastic chatter, something about the opera at nine, and Nialsen's admonition to wear her nicest ("Longsleeve- haha!") dress. So it's come to this... Riza thought, not listening. Major, just as you told me then, everyone has a dirty little secret. Since then, I've made a discovery. Everyone has a breaking point. Riza smiled, not in response to anything that the two of them had said, it was a small almost secret smile. Congratulations, Major, you've found mine. You'll wish you hadn't.
Somehow, she made a polite excuse and walked home. Wearily, she changed out of her uniform, feeling tears threaten as she hung it up neatly. I remember when I was proud to wear it, she thought as she changed into her civilian clothes. Her short sleeved tee-shirt did not cover the ugly mass of bruises on her left arm. She touched it gently, it was still painful. And then she began to cry, silently. She hadn't really cried since the first night of OCS, when her decision had finally sunken in, but later, at graduation, she did not regret those tears. They had meant something in the end. But these tears were tears of anger too long pent up, and of fear.
When they finally slowed to a trickle, Riza had made up her mind. He has no hold on me if I'm dead… this doesn't seem right, but I will never stoop so low as to obey Nialsen's every whim, Riza thought. Disobeying an order… that was how he got a hold over me in the first place… she pushed those memories away. She picked up the telephone, glad that she didn't have to go out into the hall and possibly face stares from other people in the apartment building. Hesitantly, she dialed the number.
"Barracks Two, can I help you sir or ma'am?" a man answered.
"This is Lieutenant Riza Hawkeye calling to speak to Master Sergeant Farman," she sniffed slightly.
"Please hold, ma'am."
Riza picked up a new tissue and threw the used one in the bin across the room. That's something I can do one handed, she thought bitterly.
"Master Sergeant Farman reporting, ma'am."
Riza sighed in relief. "I'm glad you weren't out, Farman," she began hesitantly. "I just wanted to call and say that I'm sorry that I left you with so much work today. I won't ever do that again... Please forgive me for that." And for what I'm about to do.
"Ma'am, there's nothing to forgive," Farman sounded worried. "Are you all right?"
"I will be," Riza assured him. "And... please don't be angry with me, Farman."
"About what, ma'am?" Farman sounded confused.
"Anything," Riza hedged. "So, I'll...see you tomorrow?"
"See you tomorrow, ma'am," Farman repeated.
"Bye," Riza hung up. She took her pistol out of its holster and decided it could use a good cleaning, one last time. And then, I have a note to write.
"You're being unusually industrious, Flame," Captain O'Toole, Roy's roommate called up to Roy's bunk, which currently resembled a desk more than a bunk from the amount of paperwork strewn about on it.
"And you're not being industrious enough, Weaver," Roy said, referring to O'Toole's alchemist title. "Don't you have a promotion board coming up? You should study for it."
Muttering from O'Toole clearly said what he thought of the promotion board and for a little while, silence reigned as O'Toole presumably studied, and Roy tried to understand the Quartermaster and Supply files he'd requested. This is why I hate paperwork, someone adds thirty and thirty and gets ninety. And why don't they use a lined ledger? What battalion is that supposed to be? 5th? 6th? It looks more like a squiggle than anything else. How many bootlaces did they request? His head was hurting from the writing, but a suspicion was beginning to be confirmed.
There was a knock at the door. Captain O'Toole, his roommate sighed and got up to answer it. "Roy, phone for you," he said after a moment.
Now it was Roy's turn to sigh. If it was Maes calling to cancel their card game tonight, he would be annoyed. "Hai, coming," he muttered, jumping down from the top bunk. When I'm a major, I'm going to have phone installed in my room.
But it was not Maes. "Sir?"
"Farman?" Roy frowned. "What's wrong?"
"It's Lieutenant Hawkeye, sir," he said quickly. "I think she's going to do something stupid, she started apologizing and... I'm worried, sir. Would you please check on her? We're being inspected in about two minutes and we all have to be here or I'd go myself."
"What's her address?" Roy asked, stealing the notepad and pen from the currently unmanned lobby desk.
Hawkeye did not live in the best neighbourhood in Central, Roy decided and it was too far of a walk if it was urgent. I wonder why she doesn't live on-base?
"O'Toole, I need to borrow your car," Roy said, returning to his room.
"What?" O'Toole frowned. "Absolutely not, do you have any idea how much I paid for it?"
"I understand if you don't feel like lending it, but it's for a good cause," Roy said solemnly.
"Hah. The good cause of your social life."
Roy tried a different tact. "You should be studying anyway."
"I'm nearly done," O'Toole retorted.
"Ah, well, in that case, I certainly wouldn't dream of touching your car," Roy said thoughtfully. "Do you have fire-insurance?"
O'Toole threw the keys at him. "It better be for a worthy cause and you better not wreck it!"
Review!
Author's note time! Again, thanks to everyone who reviewed, and I'll just let you guys know that a good way to get me to update soon is to leave me reviews!;) I'm a hopeless review junkie…
Please let me know what you thought of this chapter, a few of you seemed to have guesses as to what would happen next, were you on or not? What do you think will happen next:)
