Disclaimer: I own nothing
Author's Note: Sorry this took so long, school got in the way. Stupid college. Wow…when did this story get so long?
Chapter 25 – Dying Never Stopped You BeforeMustang was in the kitchen when Hawkeye came out of the bathroom. Without a word to him she began heating the stove. She pulled out a frying pan and started making eggs. After the eggs began to cook she dropped in a few slices of bacon. As she put a few pieces of bread in the toaster, Roy finally asked what she was doing.
"I'm making you breakfast." She replied.
"I'm not hungry." He replied.
She turned to face him, her face a blank slate, "I told you that if I had my body I'd make you breakfast, and that's what I'm going to do. Whether you eat it or not is your decision." She turned back to the frying pan and continued cooking. Roy smiled slightly at her back, her loyalty was somehow endearing.
--
"These are really good." Roy told her as he shoveled another spoonful of eggs in his mouth.
"I'm glad you like them." She replied, her voice monotone.
Something in her voice made him stop. There was something wrong with her. He looked up from his breakfast to see her staring at the tabletop sadly. "What's wrong?"
"I can't stay here."
"Of course not. Why would you want to stay here?" Mustang asked, genuinely confused.
Hawkeye jerked her head up to look at her comrade. She knew he didn't love her, but it felt almost like he was kicking her out into the street…not that she wanted to stay here for the rest of her life, but she didn't want to get kicked out either. Hawkeye forced surprise from her face and stiffened her expression. "I'm leaving for the West this afternoon…that is if you can get me a train ticket."
"The West? Why would you go there? Aren't you going to come back to work?" He asked, apparently not following common logic.
"I can't go back. I'm dead."
He gave her that heart-melting smirk. "Since when did dying ever stop you?"
"What do you propose we do? Do you really think they're going to let me just walk into Eastern Headquarters and pick up where I left off? Even if I told them that the other person was an imposter, it'd be highly unlikely anyone would believe me."
"Well they might not believe you, but they'd believe your Grandfather." He replied.
Slowly Riza put together what Roy was saying. If they could get her Grandfather to convince the rest of the military that the first Riza had died wasn't actually her, then she could be reinstated. The plan was shaky, but it could work…if her Grandfather believed them. Doubt welled up in her throat. "What if he doesn't believe it's really me?"
Roy could sense her fear and his smirk changed to a sincere comforting smile. He placed his left hand over her hands in attempts to comfort her. "He'll believe you. Just have a little faith."
Chills raced up her arm and her pulse quickened. Riza smiled slightly at her friend. Gently she took his hand in hers and studied its gentle curves. "The stains are fading," she mentioned.
Roy looked down at his hand in hers and frowned slightly. The copper colored stains of her blood were beginning to fade. Those once hated stains were almost gone, and strangely he felt sorry. The stains had kept her tethered to him, now that they were nearly gone, would the time they'd shared together fade away into just a memory too?
Riza studied his hands with the wonder of a child. His hands were soft, but the skin was thick. She smiled at how much bigger they were than hers. She turned his hand over so that his palm was up, but something caught her eye. The heel of his hand was bandaged. Gently she grazed her fingers over the dressing, "What's this?" she asked.
Roy's expression stiffened and he quickly jerked his hand away. "I don't want to talk about it." Riza couldn't figure out why it seemed like such a sore subject with him, but she dismissed it. If he didn't want to talk about it she wasn't going to force him.
"If you're done eating, I think we should head out." Roy said, shoving his hands into his pants pockets.
"Do you think it's wise for me to walk around in broad daylight?"
"You should be fine if you keep your head down and make sure no one sees you." He replied. Her face didn't seem convinced. "All right, if you're that worried about it I'll get my trench coat and hat and you can wear those." She smiled in agreement and after she was completely covered they got into the car and drove to General Grumman's house.
--
Her Grandfather lived in the suburbs of the Eastern City. Several acres of his land rolled by them as they drove toward his estate. Just out the window Riza could see several horses grazing in the fields. Her Grandfather had bought this land shortly after her mother had died. Riza had never spent much time here…this wasn't a home, it was a house. The gravel of the driveway crunched in defiance as the car rolled its way up to the front of the house. The two comrades looked up at the enormous estate. Riza couldn't help but wonder if her Grandfather ever felt lonely in such an empty place.
Mustang was the one to knock on the door. After a few moments one of the door knobs turned and the butler opened the door. Riza quickly tilted her head to make sure Mustang's hat shielded her face from the servant. She may not have spent much time at this house, but the servants would surely know her face.
"Hello?" the butler asked. He seemed unsure as to whether or not the two were traveling salesmen, it didn't help that Mustang wasn't wearing his military uniform.
"We're here to see the General." Mustang said simply.
"I'm sorry, the General has asked to not be disturbed. His granddaughter has recently passed and I'm afraid he's quite upset." The butler replied, seeming genuinely concerned for the General's welfare.
"It's actually about his granddaughter." Mustang replied, "I have information about her murder."
The butler narrowed his eyes at the two visitors. If they really had information, why wouldn't they just take it to the military intelligence? The entire thing seemed fishy to him but before he could shut the door in their faces, someone stopped him.
"It's all right Casper, I'll take care of them." A familiar voice said. It was undoubtedly Hawkeye's Grandfather's. Riza almost looked up in surprise, but remembered just in time and kept her head down. "Come in Colonel." her grandfather said as he stepped aside.
Riza and Roy cautiously made their way inside the house. The foyer was immense, but Riza was prepared. She'd already seen it and was careful to not look up, Mustang on the other hand nearly dropped his jaw. A grand staircase stood in front of him, made completely out of hand cut marble. Flowing marble flowers were carved on every surface. Portraits of family decorated the walls. A woman and a man stood frozen in oils to Mustang's left and to his right a small portrait of two men, one of which was unmistakably the General, Mustang could only assume the other man was Hawkeye's father.
"Come into my study," the general said, walking toward a door on the right of the staircase. "We can talk there."
The three walked into a dark study. Only one table lamp glared on, while a fire flickered in the fireplace. "I'm sorry for the darkness, harsh lights tend to give me headaches." The general explained, "here let me turn on a few more lights and then you can tell me about this information you have."
Mentally Hawkeye prayed that her grandfather wouldn't turn on any more lights. Riza had always secretly hated this room and she would have rathered if Mustang never found out why. Sadly, her prayers weren't heard. Her grandfather clicked on a few more lights, illuminating most of the room. He of course made sure to turn on the light above his fireplace; he had to call attention to his pride and joy. Inwardly Hawkeye groaned, above the hearth was a three foot painting of herself at age 10. The little girl in the painting was undeniably Hawkeye. The shocking blonde hair and the bright red eyes glared out over an almost invisible smile. Riza had always hated that portrait, her hair was cropped in an embarrassingly ugly cut and she hadn't reached a point to where she was beginning to fill her clothes. The ugly purple dress she wore hung on her shoulders like a sheet on a clothesline. Purple had never been her color.
If that wasn't bad enough, 3 other fairly large portraits of herself were sprinkled throughout the room. She hated this room. It was actually the General's favorite room in the house, he called it his 'Riza Room'. The general took a seat in front of the fireplace and looked up longingly at the 3 foot portrait. "She was so innocent at that age."
'I wasn't innocent at all.' She thought, 'Grandfather must be becoming senile. At that age I could shoot a squirrel on a tree branch from 100 yards.'
Mustang's reaction to the room was to be expected. He was a little surprised, but mostly amused. Seeing Hawkeye at such an "innocent" age was enough to make even Falman smile.
"So, about this 'information' you have for me…" the general said, trying to prompt the two into revealing their hand. The statement seemed to pop Mustang out of his musings with the portrait and back to relevant matters.
"Sir, the information I—we have is terribly important. What we're about to tell—show you is confidential and can never be spoken of outside this room." Mustang began.
The statement definitely caught the general's attention. Mustang turned to his companion and said, "Go on, take off the hat."
Hawkeye reluctantly looked up and took off the hat. Her golden hair fell around her shoulders creating a shocking contrast between the blonde strains and the black trench coat. Hawkeye wasn't quite sure what to say, so she kept silent.
The old man gasped audibly upon seeing his granddaughter. His reaction wasn't quite what they expected. "What kind of joke is this? Haven't I been through enough this past week without hooligans and officers trying to play jokes on me. Riza was the only family I had left and you have the gall to find some imposter and play her off as my granddaughter. Casper! Casper—"
"Grandfather! It's really me!" Hawkeye said rushing to him and placing a hand on his arm. Anything to keep him from calling attention to their little meeting.
Her voice caught him off guard and he stopped shouting for a moment. It was clear in his eyes that he wanted her to be who she said she was, but logic was keeping him from believing her. "Well, you're quite the little actress. You even have her voice."
"I'm not acting. It's really me. If you'll just listen to our story then—"
"You're not Riza, Riza's dead."
"I promise you, I'm flesh and blood." She replied to him. It was obvious that he was having an inner struggle. The logical side of him was fighting to belief she was dead, while the hopeful side was praying that she was telling him the truth. After a moment it was obvious to her that his logical side was beginning to win out. She had to find some way to prove to him who she was. "I have a birthmark on my leg." She told him in attempts to prove herself to him. "I can show—"
"Birthmarks can be imitated. You're not Riza." He replied slowly turning away from her. He started to make his way toward the door, most likely so he could call for Casper to escort them out. Riza searched her memory banks, what could she possibly say to identify herself, then it came to her; a moment that only her grandfather and she had shared. "I know what really happened to Luigi!"
"That's impossible." Her grandfather said as he turned to face her. "Only Riza and I know the truth about Luigi."
Mustang sat though this whole exchange completely confused. Who the hell was Luigi? Was he another man like Eli? The thought raced across his mind and the desperately prayed it wasn't true, one revival was enough for him.
Hawkeye and the General seemed to have temporarily forgotten about Mustang and Hawkeye quickly launched into a recap to prove that she knew what really happened to 'Luigi'. "Luigi was Mother's song bird." She started, "she named him Luigi after her dance partner. She always told me to never touch the cage, but one day while she was practicing I opened the cage door and he tried to fly out the window. He hit the glass by mistake and broke his neck. I was hysterical but then—"
"I came in and told you that we'd tell your mother that he flew away…and that it was my fault." Her grandfather finished. Tears glistened on his eyelids as he realized she was telling the truth. Only his granddaughter could have known the story. Love swept over his features and he pulled her into a tight hug. Their family had never really been the hugging type, but this time he was willing to make an exception.
This still isn't the end. I've still got at least a few more chapters to go. :)