With Riza suddenly on trial, Roy does whatever he can to have her released.

A Shot In The Dark II

"Riza Hawkeye?" A warden came by her cell. She raised her eyes, but did not recognise the man. No rank, she noticed. They had not stripped her off her uniform yet, but the fact that he used her full name instead of rank did not speak in her favour. She would not have been surprised had they simply left her sitting in her cell for forever; there was no such thing as a hearing if the military chose not to grant one. "Your hands."

He secured the shackles she was wearing by a chain, attaching it to a wall outside the cell. As if she could somehow bite off his head or produce a gun out of thin air. She was no alchemist, neither did she have any incriminating records – in the eyes of the military, she was a hero of war.

Without a word of explanation, the man led her down a narrow corridor. The one they had come through, she remembered. Hers had been one of the first cells, so she did not get any glimpses at other captives. Not that she wanted to.

Around the corner, through a door, and then another, she found herself in a huge hall with high ceilings, rows of benches like there were in chapels, and a block of elevated desks of dark, artistically carved wood. In front of it, there were tables to either side of the aisle. Behind the desk, several high-ranking men sat, Grumman in the middle.

The courtroom.

It was bigger than she had imagined all those years. More crowded too.

The warden passed her over to a police officer, who pushed her to sit at one of the front tables. There was a chair next to her, empty.

"In the case of First Lieutenant Riza Hawkeye, I call up the defence," a man with a ridiculously fake wig read from a scroll in front of the judges' desks. Silence engulfed the room. A few coughs were heard from the onlookers, murmurs being traded. The man with the scroll continued, "I call up the witness in support of the court's claim: incitement of combat by deliberately and consciously firing a provoking shot."

A man rose from a bench to the side, coming to stand behind the other table. He saluted to the judges. Windecker. The nerve of him. Accusing her behind the scenes was nothing astonishing, but having the audacity to make false claims in front of the official court was not something she had expected him to do. She had deemed him a coward.

"With no defence in her favour, we must conclude this trial and adjudicate the defendant to—"
The enormous double doors swung open, crashing into the walls with the force he had opened them with. "Objection." A new voice boomed down the aisle. Carelessly, unheeding of the scrambling privates hasting to close the doors, Roy strut towards the judges. "General Grumman, sir, I must make the demand to drop all charges you have against my subordinate."

"On what statutory basis?" Grumman asked, intrigued. Halcrow to his right, his mouth opened in protests, shot Grumman a glance, then continued to glare down at Roy.

"There is no proof but the word of a single man – one the accused's word should weigh against." he simply said. "I heard her fire six shots precisely after the rebels had unleashed their attack on us. I ask the court to present her weapon and falsify me," he paused, "if possible."

Riza's mind was spinning, her stomach churning painfully. Stop, she wanted to tell him. He was not supposed to make himself a target; he needed to stay in their favour! But she… had to protect him. She had to be free to do so, but the thought of him suffering under her trial…

"Too vague an account," Halcrow waved off.

"And has the court investigated the witness' motives for making such a claim?" Roy boldly raised his voice. Halcrow looked about ready to shoot him, while Grumman tilted his head curiously.

"The witness is acting for the benefit of the military by calling out any potential threats," Halcrow dryly stated. Calling her a traitor, Riza knew, still too paralyzed by her superior officer's entrance to speak.

"The witness is hiding sabotage and treason." The room exploded in gasps so loud, they all but sucked the oxygen from the air. It certainly felt that way to Riza. Her heart was beating so fiercely, she felt it rock her entire body and drone in her ears. Exclaims lowered into murmurs when Halcrow slammed his fist onto the desk. Windecker had stiffened.

"That is quite a serious accusation, Mustang," Brigadier General Grand leaned forward. "Do you have any proof to support such claims?" he asked. Roy held the challenging gaze, lifting his chin.

"The provoking shot grazed me," he said, making Riza's eyes widen. "The angle is clearly starting off at my left side, aiming upwards. It would have been impossible for a sniper rifle to aim diagonally from above to create the same wound; not without more witnesses or me noticing. It would have required standing and being seen by the enemy as well," he explained. His eyes flashed to the side, to where Windecker was standing at just about the same spot he had been behind the wall of sandbags. The left.

"Show us your proof then," the Brigadier General asked. Roy swallowed.

"I would like to request a brief recess."

"Rejected. Present the proof or rest your case, Mustang," Halcrow growled. The crowd had quieted. Tension hung heavily across the room as if trying to choke them all. A wild mixture of unease and confusion streaked Windecker's eyes, watching Roy intently. The latter hesitated, enduring the glares from above, returning them with just as much fire.

He sighed. "Fine." His hands went to his belt, unbuckling it. The onlookers held their breaths, whispering erupting from all sides. The sparse presence of women covered their eyes, only a few of them staring on as shamelessly as the men did. The judges were rendered speechless, until finally the Brigadier General stuttered for Roy not to have to go on.

He did so anyway. With his jaw tight and his cheeks tinged pink, Roy turned around – practically presenting his in boxers clad behind to the judges as he bent over slightly. Grumman barely held back a snort of amusement.

Eyes grew to saucers, bewilderment as much as embarrassment on the Colonel's behalf leaking from the high-ranking officers. There was indeed a wound. A streak of freshly crusted-up blood was pointing up from the lower left side of the backside of his thigh. It had narrowly missed his knee, yet was shallow enough not to have inhibited him walking – they had been in the heat of battle after all. Most evidently of all, it was impossible for Hawkeye to have been the offender.

Clearing his throat, straightening after having collected his trousers from around his ankles, Roy redid his belt. He turned to the judges with defiance – defiance of his own embarrassment. Their eyes were still bulging, lips sealed into three thin lines. Roy did not bother too much to get his shirt neatly tucked into place, crossing his arms tightly, stoically remaining at the front when the three left the room to discuss.

They left an awkwardly pensive silence behind.

The second the side door shut, Grumman burst out laughing.

"That buffoon!" Grand gestured helplessly.

"What do we do with this?" Halcrow slapped the scribe's notes onto the table in the middle of the room.

"He seemed serious," Grumman chuckled, sinking down in a chair. The others kept standing, too flabbergasted to relax or even be truly outraged.

"Of course he did; this is his subordinate – it would be a scandal for him," Grand argued. As if Roy had not just proven to be both capable of handling scandals, as well as creating his own.

"Nonsense," Halcrow shook his head, "he could just get himself a new one – he has two very capable Second Lieutenants, and neither of them is a woman. He'd do well to have one of them take her place," he remarked with a sneer.

"Better than pulling his pants down in front of the entire court," Grumman laughed again. The others grimaced, as bewildered as they were impressed by the young Colonel's resolve.

"Which is what confuses me," Grand huffed. No one would have ever done such a thing without good reason – a damn good reason.

"I believe him," Grumman leaned back in his chair. Grand fidgeted with a pen. Halcrow stopped pacing, turning to his superior with a frown. "Subordinate or not, we all know Mustang's famous for his sense of righteousness," Grumman went on, "and that he'd go to considerable lengths to have the truth come to light."

"He's right," Grand shrugged.

"He's right, my foot! She's a woman and we all know how easy it is to talk them into treason, weak of character as they are," Halcrow barked.

"And how exactly do we know that, Major General?" Grumman raised a brow; a threatening one. Halcrow refused to wince, returning the sharp glance of his superior. "It seems you've had to deal with quite a few of these cases, but we shouldn't let our minds get tainted by the past," Grumman burned his eyes into Halcrow, almost as if wanting to impale him. He was not referring to court trials, of course; he was letting him know to be aware of more things than the Major General had hoped. "In any case, I don't believe that neither her gender nor position under Mustang hold any valid charge against her. But if anyone would like to inspect the wound again, I'm sure—"

"No, thank you," Grand intercepted. Nodding to himself, he then turned to Grumman. "Innocent."

"Innocent," Grumman repeated. They looked at Halcrow. He narrowed his eyes. Finally, he grumbled between gritted teeth, "innocent."

Riza could hardly believe her ears when the three men announced the same in the courtroom. Neither could she believe her eyes when they transferred her handcuffs to Windecker, leading him away for the case to be further investigated. He would be free soon, she reckoned, at least if Halcrow got a say in it.

She followed her Colonel out when he left, her head lowered and always a step behind him. Her cheeks were glowing more prominently than his own. She could not help but wither with every limp he unsuccessfully hid as he led the way to the office, but she held her tongue. All the way until turning the corner of the fortunately deserted hall in front of their office, she heard the gossiping and snickering from all around. It echoed in her ears, making her feel nauseous.

"Aren't you going to say anything?" Roy made her wince. She lowered her head even more.

"I… wouldn't know what, sir," Riza quietly said.

"How about 'thank you'?" he turned with a humorously arched brow, but she refused to look up.

The team stayed perfectly mute, nearly unmoving when they two entered the office. Havoc looked about ready to make a funny comment, but swallowed it when reading the mood. Riza could feel his and the others' empathetic eyes on her, now even less keen on glancing up. Fuery's radio was dead silent, telling her a good deal about how they must have somehow listened in on the trial, then shut it off entirely upon hearing approaching steps.

Roy entered his office, turning. His eyes lingered on her, so she gave in despite having thought that he would not want to see her for at least the rest of the week.

"I'm sorry," Riza muttered once he had shut the door behind her. Hands at her sides, she clenched her fists around the fabric of her trousers. Her eyes stung but she refused to let any tears well up. She opened her mouth to continue when Roy was faster.

"No, I'm sorry." He walked around her, stopping where she could see the tips of his boots facing hers. "I shouldn't have yelled at you. I know you would never call out a fellow soldier in public; it wasn't your fault that someone released a shot," he said with a sigh. Riza frowned. Fellow soldier? So then he was just as uncertain about Windecker being the culprit as she was – she had heard it from close by to the left, but she had no proof.

Roy did. Then why…?

"I'm also sorry for playing with you just now – I guess I'm really just an arrogant idiot," he referred to his comment in the hall, this time with that boyish grin ringing in his tone she knew too well. Daring to peek up, she caught his grin brightening. He had known it would get her to look at him, triumph sparking up in his eyes. Blushing, Riza averted her gaze.
"I shouldn't have given up that quickly; I made them believe he was right," Riza blamed herself. Roy shook his head.

"You know that doesn't hold a candle to my foolishness," he playfully retorted. "You can't win this round of who's at fault, my dear Lieutenant," he jested. Her expression softened alongside his voice. Shoulders stiffening again when his fingers took her chin, she stared at him with wide eyes. They were still in Headquarters! "Forgive me?" Roy asked gently.

"Of course," Riza breathed. His change of attitude was almost overwhelming, puzzling her.

Replaying the morning in her head, his rage, the hours of waiting in a lonely cell and now this, being back in his office, those kind dark eyes she had fallen for seemingly a lifetime ago twinkling fondly at her – Riza thought her brain was going to shut down any second. She was free. She was going to stay by his side; protect him, just like he had protected her. Stupidly, she nodded as if not having heard herself agree half a minute ago.

A fuzzy twist in the pit of her stomach reminded her of their position, not to mention location.

"Good," Roy broke her trance, releasing her chin. His eyes had mellowed to an extent where she feared they would flow out of their sockets. She must have accidentally radiated with love for him, owed to gladness. Her gaze gave her away, no matter how aware she was now.

Smiling tenderly, Roy surprised her with a kiss to her forehead. Her insides bounced up and down, heart speeding up. A fool indeed, risking all he had just fought for by showing his by law forbidden affection in the office. They were lucky the office was on the highest level, and that they were nowhere near the windows.

Riza only realised how late it was when Roy went to get hit coat off the hanger.

"Sir, if I may ask," she piped up.

"You may," he easily said, a smile in his tone.

"How did you not notice the wound before?" she asked. He halted for the split of a second, then resumed pushing his arm through the sleeve.

"Adrenaline, I suppose." He shrugged on the coat, not turning around. Riza frowned dubiously. There had been enough time to notice; he had yelled at them all afterwards and then reported to the Brigadier General. A diversion, Riza was sure by now, and she wondered how Roy had come to know about the trial in the first place, seeing as he had not been supposed to. "It was after the deployment," he went on, obviously feeling pressured to do so.

"Why did you not see a doctor, sir?" she pressed. She had to.
Roy glanced at her from the side. Clicking his tongue, sucking in a breath, he wavered his head from side to side as he came back over, avoiding her eyes with every limp.

"Well, that's… I didn't feel it then," he drawled. She raised her brows, prompting him to scratch his neck. "Which is probably cause it… might not have been there yet?" He offered a sheepish grin. Riza stared at him in disbelief. That moron. Oh, she wanted to yell at him for this; slap him right across the face and drum on his chest with her fists, but how could she? She might not have agreed with him on going that far to protect her, but for her to stay with him? "We good?" Roy patted her shoulder, having slung his arm around her.

With a sigh of exasperation, Riza let the topic drop. He received his answer in the form of her wrapping her arm around his back.

The team watched them curiously as they left, then of course packed their own things as fleetly as possible with their superior officers going home. No one commented on the way Riza supported her Colonel to his car and then got into the passenger seat. Half of the military might have expected her being in for punishment, but she could not care less at that moment.

She had an idiot to take care of. Her idiot.

"It was quite the struggle; I would've arrived much earlier if I hadn't been such a coward," Roy retold into the pillow beneath his head. He had his arms crossed under it, lying on his front for her to reach his wound. He tensed but kept from hissing when Riza plucked another piece of lint from his injury. "I wanted it to be on my calf, but alas," he made a regretful gesture with his hand, "I'm not the Hawk's Eye. No simple rolling-up-my-trousers, no," he groaned to himself. Collapsing face-first into the pillow, he deflated with a long exhale when she ceased plucking and padded the wound gently.

Roy felt the air pressed out of his lungs when instead of the anticipated bandaging of his leg, Riza had slumped atop him. He harked for any irregular breathing, but there was none. Her arms came up, winding beneath his, hugging him. He smiled when feeling the warmth of her face on his nape, a kiss landing on his shoulder.

"Thank you," she whispered. Smile widening, Roy basked in her warmth. He took her hand in front of his chest, bringing it up to kiss her knuckles. I love you too, he wanted to say, knowing better. So did she. But the way she snuggled her nose to the side of his face told him just how much she wanted to return those forbidden words. And for him, that was enough.