We'll Meet Again

Author's Notes: I do not own Fullmetal Alchemist, it'd be really nifty if I did. I do own a lot of notes from my different college classes, as well as several textbooks and study guides. I also own a computer, which is what I used to type my stories up on.

Manga Chapter 61 Spoilers. This is the direct conversation that Hawkeye and Mustang have. Word-for-word. The initial writing of this did not include something that terribly gave away the whole plot, SO I will be posting a second version of this as chapter 2 (in this story). That will not contain the spoiler that gave away the plot, which means that it can be read without really giving away what is going on. Basically, you see that Hawkeye is leaving, and it is assumed that she is leaving the office for good. Why is revealed in the first chapter of the story. The story without that major spoiler can be found in the second chapter of this story (because I like people reading it, and I'm particularly proud of this piece).

Please read and review. This is one of the first fics in a while that I wrote after being really inspired, so much so that I've written it at work. I really am proud of this piece, I love the way it's come out, so reading and reviewing will a happy Bizzy make.

Colonel Roy Mustang sat quietly, staring at his desk. The room had never felt so huge before. Every desk was empty, only his coat hung on the rack, and he wondered if this was done to him only to make him realize how alone he really could be. Every once and again, he tried to focus on the work in front of him, but couldn't bring himself to accomplish anything. The silence was the loudest silence he had ever heard.

When there was a knock on the door, charcoal eyes shot up immediately, startled. The door swung open, and Lieutenant Riza Hawkeye poked her head in, the look on her face somber. "Excuse me, Colonel."

Surprised, he tried to clear the look of shock off of his features, "Lieutenant!"

The look on her face seemed apologetic for his shock, and she just nodded slightly, the frown deepening. She crossed the room, not even pausing to catch his gaze at his desk, stopping at the bookshelf stocked to capacity with files. "I came to get something I forgot."

His eyes bore into the back of her head, and he could almost feel himself wanting to chastise her. Not because forgetting something was so awful, but because this was Lieutenant Hawkeye, who was organized to a point of insanity—therefore making the possibility of her forgetting something completely irrational. She didn't forget something in the traditional sense of the word: she left something, to have an excuse to come back and get it.

Silence thickened in the room, and this time he was absolutely certain that this was the loudest silence he had ever heard, because now she was here and wouldn't speak a word, until finally she cleared her throat, amber eyes still focused on the cabinet and he just wished she would look at him when she spoke. "It seems Scar is still prowling around. Edward-kun told me." Her voice was level, though laced with quiet concern.

Closing his eyes, he nodded to the back of her head. "Scar, huh?" He shook his head slowly, realization sinking in. "I'll have to be careful when I walk outside. After all," he added, pausing as his mind pictured her at his side, armed and ready. The thought that she would not be there hit him harder than a ton of bricks, and he swallowed. "My well-armed guard will be gone."

The smallest smile crossed her features and as sad as it was, she nodded towards him, "That's right." She waited for a beat, turning back to her search for carefully placed 'forgotten' files. She knew exactly where they were in this stack, and exactly what they were, and exactly why they were still there. Because she had left them, intentionally. Simply for the excuse; something that she was fully aware that he knew. "Please don't die." Her head bowed forward slightly, and she valued the fact that he couldn't see her face just this once. Please don't die, sir—I won't be here to protect you. She swallowed over the lump in her throat, squeezing her eyes shut. This was not nearly as easy as she had hoped, and never once had she intended to ask him not to die; it sounded pathetically overdone and particularly out of character for her.

He sighed quietly, looking down at his desk. That did not sound like his Lieutenant; his Lieutenant was level headed, calm and steady and very rarely expressed concern so openly. His Lieutenant never outwardly expressed concern, unless concern was warranted. To go so far as to ask him not to die screamed that there was more going on in her mind than what she was revealing. But she refused to let him see her face, and he wanted to scold her for it—if only because he wanted to see those eyes. "Yeah." He slowly rested his hand upon his chin, thinking, taking in her stiff military posture that he grew so accustomed to seeing, and wishing just once he could see something different. "I've put you through trouble."

She nodded, turning to catch his gaze over her shoulder, a slight smirk on her face. "I might have made a mistake in who to follow."

The disappointment on his face was evident, and she instantly realized he didn't catch that she was more making an attempt at being lighthearted than really taking a jab at him. "If you think you made a mistake, then shoot and kill me." He was looking at his desk just slightly, his gaze not focused on her, an act which she appreciated—she winced just slightly at his words. "It's the promise we made on that day." Hands folded tightly in front of him, he frowned.

"You're still at my tolerance level," she declared quietly, crossing the room and pausing just a bit away from his desk, clutching the files to her chest, frowning. The sullen look made her appear tired, but he had to laugh.

Hands braced on his desk, he stood, still snickering just slightly. "You're kind, First Lieutenant Hawkeye."

With no response to his laughter, she stiffened, heels clicking together audibly over his slowly dying laugh. Amber eyes were looking at the floor, and she swallowed once again around the lump in her throat, wishing she could compose herself. Her strict military demeanor was all she had to fall back on, and she relied upon it heavily. "Well, Colonel," she said slowly, her voice just slightly catching on the words as she raised a hand to salute him, eyes downcast. "…We'll meet again."

If her words were reassurance for herself, or for him, she didn't know. But in reality, they did little to appease her nerves, and she could see by his retreat to the military behavior that it did little for him, as well.

"We'll meet again," he replied, returning the salute, the concern on his face growing. He could tell that she was afraid, though her every effort was to conceal it. And he was afraid, as well—this was his Lieutenant, and they were both aware that she was reassigned to work for the Fürher to be the man's legal hostage. They were both aware that any step out of line could have disastrous results, as well.

But she was moving towards the door, files clutched tight against her form, frowning. She had taken half a step out before she turned back to him, a small smile on his face. "Please don't slack off on your work."

Before he could respond, the door shut behind her, and he sighed, sinking back into his desk. "I'm doing it properly."

Staring at the dark door that had just closed before him, he had to wonder if the room had ever felt more like a prison. Surely on days when the weather was beautiful and he was caught doing menial paperwork, it felt as though he was being captive. But even then, there were familiar faces to ease the annoyance of being stuck indoors. Now, the room was empty. Empty and silent in a way he almost couldn't stand, and he wanted to throw things about if just to fill up the room with sound.

"Ah," he said quietly, looking down at his desk. "So it was this spacious."