Author: RealityBreakGirl/aquietlearningcorner
Word Count: 12296
Rating: T
Prompt: FMA Big Bang 2021
Warnings: Child abuse/neglect
Characters: Riza Hawkeye, Roy Mustang, Jean Havoc, Heymans Breda, Vato Falman, Kain Fuery, Black Hayate
Pairing: Royai
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Family
Chapter: 2 of7
Summary: Tasked by Fuhrer Grumman to investigate a suspected alchemic incident, General Mustang's team finds themselves stranded in Hawkeye's hometown. Needing a place to stay, they find themselves taking shelter in her childhood home. However, her past can't stay buried there, and as revelations come to light, they also bring embers of danger with them. Sequel to Embers in a Wounded Heart
Chapter 2
The night didn't pass too peacefully for Havoc or Breda. Havoc's legs were giving him quite a bit of trouble and he was restless most of the night. He tried to sleep or hold still, but after a while he gave up, and went downstairs where he could move as much as he needed too. Eventually he fell asleep on the couch. He thought, at one point, that he heard someone else up, but shortly after Hayate joined him, which explained a lot. Eventually the two fell asleep together.
The morning dawned early, but not too bright. He was woken up by the sounds of someone in the kitchen, and groggily drug himself up. He stumbled into the kitchen, wincing as his legs tried to work themselves out. They functioned just fine, but there was still an ache to them. Not to his surprise, both Hawkeye and Fuery were up and in the kitchen, coffee already going. They looked up at his entrance.
"Oh—did we wake you?" Hawkeye asked, looking at him.
Havoc yawned. "Yeah, but don't worry about it."
Fuery had gotten up and was busy fetching a cup for Havoc. "Didn't sleep well, sir?" he asked.
"Yeah… this weather is messing with my legs," he said. "Makes them ache more and more the longer it goes on."
Hawkeye frowned. "Do you have anything you take or do for them?"
"Yeah," Havoc said, "but I try not to take it too much. I don't like being too compromised."
"It's not like we're doing anything dangerous here," Fuery said with a smile as he handed Havoc a cup of coffee fixed just the way he liked it. How did Fuery remember little details like that anyway? And why would he bother?
Still, it didn't stop Havoc from accepting it.
"Yeah, but still. Don't worry, if it gets to be too much, I'll take one of those pills."
Hawkeye was frowning. "Have you ever tried any herbal or folk remedies?" she asked him.
Havoc shook his head. "Nah, I haven't. to be honest, even if my ma used them, I wouldn't know where to start."
Hawkeye nodded. "Let me see what I can find and put together. I might be able to give you something that'll help."
"You know herbs?" Fuery asked, sounding a little surprised.
Hawkeye nodded. "I learned when I was younger from books, and an older woman in town. They were useful things to know, especially when a doctor wasn't always an option." She stood up, heading over to the refrigerator. "I'll see what I can look into. For now, though, we had better start on breakfast."
With a nod, Havoc and Fuery both got up, and the three of them started working on the food.
It wasn't too much later that the others started filing down the stairs, Falman first, then Breda, and finally, Mustang. Like all good military men, they started their approach with a trip to the coffee pot. Once the coffee was fixed, each of them sat at the table, where they slowly woke up and, eventually, started to help with breakfast. It didn't take long until they were all sitting around the table with a full breakfast laid out in front of them and another pot of coffee ready.
"So," Breda said as they ate, "What's the plan for the day?"
Mustang looked out the window, where the rain could still be seen pouring. "Well, there's not much we can do here about our mission," he said. "Fuery, did you get the radio working?"
"Not to my satisfaction," he said. "I mean, it works, yes, but not as good as it could."
"Can you make it work as well as you want it to?" Mustang asked.
"Maybe, with the right tools and supplies," he responded.
Mustang and Hawkeye looked at each other, silent communication passing between them again.
"We'll see what we can find you," Hawkeye said. "I'm sure there's something laying around. If there's nothing in the house, there might be something in the barn."
"If you can get that repaired, then we'll use that as our primary means of updates on the weather and the train station." Mustang said.
"What about calling the station?" Breda asked.
Hawkeye shook her head. "There was never a phone installed here. Father saw no need, and we didn't have the money for something like that. I didn't see the need after he died, as I didn't plan to stay here for long."
Breda nodded, and Havoc supposed that made sense.
"Havoc, will you take care of the horses?" Mustang asked.
"Sure thing, Boss. Although if anyone else has experience, it might not be a bad thing to have someone else that knows what they're doing as well."
"I can help," Falman said. "I did a few turns taking care of the horses at Briggs."
"You any good?" Havoc asked.
"The horse master wanted to see about getting me transferred down there," Falman said.
Havoc raised an eyebrow. "Alright, good enough for me."
"Okay, so that's settled. As for the rest of us…" Mustang shook his head. "Well just do as we need to. There's plenty to read, and always work to do. We'll figure it out. However," he said, "when what needs to be taken care of this morning is taken care of, we can dive into the intel that we were given, see what we can learn."
"We can go head and pool what knowledge we have and get something of a plan in place for when we do get there," Hawkeye said. "It can't hurt anyway."
Breda grunted. "That's true enough. And it'll certainly be something more productive then just sitting around reading random books. No offence, Falman."
"None take, sir."
"What chores and the like need to be done?" Mustang asked.
Hawkeye considered for a moment. "Well, our uniforms need washing, and the boots demucking. That will take a while. Sir," she turned to Mustang. "I need you to check for some things for me in the basement."
He looked at her with a bit of concern in his eyes, obviously willing, but, again, the basement brought up something bad, just like the last time they had been here. Hawkeye obviously wasn't willing to go down in it still. Havoc couldn't help but wonder, once again, just what it might be.
"Of course, Captain," he said. "Just let me know what it is you need."
"Just to check for some dried herbs and ingredients for me. I'm going to work on something for Havoc's legs, see if it helps."
Understanding seemed to bloom in Mustang's eyes, and he settled down. "Ah, I see."
"You're going to what now?" Breda asked.
Hawkeye smiled at him, "Just apply some good country remedies. Hopefully one of them will help. If it helps his legs, it might help your arm as well."
They had all noticed, but had chosen not to comment on, the way that Breda seemed to be favoring one arm. It was the one with the elbow he had broken, and Havoc knew that it was giving him trouble as well.
Breda still looked a bit surprised. "If it works, I'll give it a try," he said. "You I trust. Him," he pointed to Havoc with his fork, "not so much."
"Gee, thanks," Havoc deadpanned. "See who makes sure there's enough coffee for you next time."
"Alright, so, I'm going to look for herbs for the captain. And the rest of you?" Mustang said, interrupting the play argument before it could get started.
"I'll go check on the horses," Havoc said, "And Falman can come with me." Falman nodded his agreement.
"I'll be working on that radio," Fuery said. "Although it would be good if someone could show me where theses spare parts might be."
"I can show you here in the house," Hawkeye said, and Fuery nodded.
"So that just leaves the dishes and the uniforms," Havoc said, and shot a grin Breda's way.
Breda pulled a face. "Oh no. I'm not doing all of that alone!"
Luckily for him, Hawkeye came to his rescue. "I'll help you," she said. "It's my house, and besides, I'm sure that Fuery needs some time to decide what he needs."
Fuery nodded. "Yes, sir, I do," he said. "So, it'll be a while yet."
"I can help you in the meantime," Hawkeye reassured him, and Breda seemed somewhat mollified.
Breakfast didn't last much longer after that, and they all finished and then cleaned up their places. Breda and Hawkeye set about putting away any extra food and cleaning the dishes. Anyone, they all knew, could wash dishes, so after Riza gave him a rundown of where things went in the kitchen, she left him to it to start on the uniforms.
Havoc and Falman pulled on their muddy boots from the day before, and their coats, and headed out the backdoor towards the barn, not only with instructions to see to the horses, but to bring back anything useful from the barn or the shed. Havoc was still a little concerned about that shed and the chemicals in it, but he couldn't deny that Hawkeye seemed to know what she was doing—not after she had somehow miraculously saved the pot that Havoc would have sworn up and down Mustang had ruined. He was highly suspicious that she wanted him to bring back in a number of those.
Well, if the house blew up, at least the rain would put out any fires.
Falman, it turned out, was very good with horses. Something about his demeanor seemed to sooth the animals, and they let him do almost anything. The two men both mucked out the stalls, laid fresh hay, and then fed them. After that, they poked around the barn to see if there was anything useful in it.
"Sir?" Falman said from one of the corners. "What about this cart?"
"Hm?" Havoc walked over to him. "Oh that. Hawkeye said last time that she used to take that to town with her when she knew that she'd need to pick up a lot of materials or supplies. She said that sometimes she tied her goat to it to pull, and sometimes she just pulled it herself."
"She pulled it herself?" Falman said, sounding a bit incredulous. "All the way to town?"
"That's what she said." Havoc repeated.
Falman fell quiet, thinking for a moment. "Sir…" he said carefully. "About the captain. Some of the things she says about living here, or the ways that she acts—"
"I know exactly what you mean, but you need to drop it," Havoc said sharply. "Even when we were here last time, I learned very little solid facts. I just had snippets and conjecture to go off of. If Hawkeye wants us to know, then she'll tell us. Other than that, it's best not to say anything."
Falman nodded. "Understood, sir," And, bless him, Havoc believed that he did. Falman was a good man. He understood when to back off and not to push.
They did manage to collect a few things that they thought would do Fuery some good and put them in the spare basket that Hawkeye had given them. After that they stopped by the shed, and Havoc got to watch the wonder and the fear of this shed creep into Falman's eyes. After all, a lot of these chemicals could be dangerous if they broke down or were too old.
All Havoc could do was shrug and load some up into the basket. "Hawkeye seems to think they're safe," he said, and that seemed to be the end of that.
By the time that they got back inside, both Breda and Hawkeye had moved on from cleaning the kitchen. It was clean and ready to go. Remembering Mustang's warning about a child Hawkeye hitting him with a mop when he tracked dirt in, they headed straight to the washroom to remove their boots and hang up their coats. Riza and Breda were in there, Breda working on cleaning up their boots, Riza working on the clothes.
"Hate to say, but we brought you some more work," Havoc said as they walked in.
"Oh, good," Breda said sarcastically. "Riza, not to question you, but our boots are just going to get muddy again. What's the point of cleaning them?"
"It'll get the worst of it off," she said. "And it'll keep them from getting so mucked up." She looked at him. "You know the dangers of letting a boot get too wet."
"Yeah, but that's for marches, not taking the boots on and off," he pointed out.
"Still. Better to keep them clean—and you know it, Lieutenant," she said, although there was a bit of a tease in her voice.
"Yeah, yeah," he said, pulling a slight face at the work.
"How were the horses?" Riza asked. "And did you find anything?"
"We found several things that Fuery might find useful," Falman said "and we retrieved a few bottles of chemicals for you, Captain."
Riza smiled at them. "Thank you."
"The horses were fine," Havoc said. "A little ancy because of the weather, but fine overall." He shifted, his legs just constantly aching in this weather. "I can't blame them much for that, to be honest."
"Hopefully this rain will let up soon," Hawkeye said. "And then we can all leave."
"We were lucky that you had this house we could stay in, though," Falman said.
"Yes, I suppose so," she murmured.
"We'll leave the chemicals on the kitchen table, yeah?" Havoc said, "And then take these parts to Fuery."
"Alright," Hawkeye said. "I'll tend to them later."
Havoc gave her a wave, and he and Falman exited the small room, leaving Hawkeye and Breda working. It didn't take long to unload the chemicals on the table.
"What's the captain going to do with these?" Falman asked as they put them on the table.
"I don't know," Havoc said, "but the last time we were here Mustang ruined a pot trying to cook something. I thought for sure that the pot was done for. But Hawkeye brought in some of the chemicals, did something to the pot for a few days, and then somehow, amazingly, she managed to clean off whatever it was that the general had done."
Falman didn't look terribly impressed, but Havoc pushed his point. "I'm not kidding, Falman. It was black and burned and there was smoke coming out of it. I don't know what he managed to burn that bad. I don't think I've ever seen a pot or anything burned quite that badly. Trust me, you don't want to let him cook."
"The general is an accomplished alchemist," Falman said. "Surely he can do something like simple cooking."
"You'd think he could," Havoc said. "But trust me, he can't."
Falman seemed to take his words into consideration but didn't comment more on them. Instead, they finished unloading the chemicals and took the pieces to Fuery, who had the big radio pulled out and the back of it off.
"How's it looking?" Havoc asked.
"Not unfixable, but it's not going to be easy, especially without some of the proper parts. But I think I can make do. General's volunteered to make some of the parts I need, if he can."
"Well, that's handy," Havoc said.
"Yeah, I've got him looking though one of the technical manuals I brought with me so that he'll have an idea of what I'm talking about."
"Oh, giving the General orders now," Havoc teased.
Fuery looked up from his work and grinned. "Well, when he asks what he can do…"
Havoc laughed. "I get that. Alright, keep working—maybe we'll get more than scratchy ballroom music at some point."
"Here's hoping, sir!"
There wasn't too much more to do after that, except clean up a little more. Falman went off to read, and Havoc, needing something to do, decided that he might as well go ahead and start working on lunch for everyone. True, it hadn't been terribly long since breakfast, but it did take a while to prep things for six people plus one dog. He moved some of Hawkeye's chemicals from the counter back to the table—who had moved those? —and got to work preparing the vegetables for what he hoped was going to be a good meal.
The finishing of chores and the smell of cooking food eventually brought everyone out from their jobs. Hawkeye and Breda had finally finished the uniforms, which were now drying in the washroom, and Fuery took a break from the radio, with Hawkeye promising to show him around the house a bit more to see if there was anything else he could use. Mustang complained about the technical manuals, and Hawkeye teased him about not complaining about paperwork any longer. They all enjoyed lunch together, and, after it, Breda took care of cleaning up the washroom while Mustang went to look around the basement. Hawkeye showed Fuery the attic and Falman went outside to make some observations. Havoc took care of the kitchen. By the time the afternoon rolled around, everyone was either finished with their chores or ready to take a break. They all moved into the living room where there was more space and the warmth from the fireplace. Fuery still had his radio to tinker with as well, which kept the younger man quite happy.
"Alright, before we start, status update. Fuery, the radio," Mustang said.
"I'm working on her sir. She's an older model and I don't have access to parts, but I think with your help and some of the things I've found around here I should be able to get her working well by this afternoon. Of course, she'd work better with an antenna, but we don't have one and it would be dangerous to put one up in this weather."
Mustang frowned but seemed to put a pin in that idea. "Keep working, Fuery. I'm sure you'll get it." He turned his attention to Falman. "Weather report, Falman?"
"Yes, sir," Falman said. "I went out and made some observations. Without the proper tools I couldn't be sure of several things, but there is a still a wind coming out of the west and the clouds appear to be low-hanging cumulus and still saturated with rain. It's still as unusual as it was back in Central, sir, and it doesn't show any signs of letting up. However, they do appear to be mostly rain clouds and not necessarily storm clouds, which does make a difference."
"Right," Mustang said. "Havoc? The horses."
"They're doing fine, sir," Havoc drawled. "A little ancy, but that's to be expected in weather like this. We've got enough supplies to keep them for a couple of more days, but then we'd probably want to see about taking them and the wagon back. When we do, I suggest we take that small cart with us, and we can load it up with anything we need and pull it back."
Mustang nodded. "Hawkeye? The house?"
"Seems mostly as we left it," she said.
"Mostly?" he interrupted.
"Yes," she said. "I do hire someone to come in, check on things, and make sure there's basic upkeep, so anything that seems a bit out of place is probably due to him."
"I wondered why this place was in so good of shape, considering no on lived here," Havoc said.
"Yes, well, I had thought about just abandoning it to its fate, but… well, it's always good to have a backup," she said.
"It worked out well for us, at least," Breda said.
"But the house and all seem fine to you," Mustang pushed.
"Yes," she said. "Everything seems to be in order."
"Good." Mustang nodded at Breda, a bit of a smirk touching his lips. "And the state of the laundry?"
Havoc heard Breda mumble something under his breath, but he couldn't catch what it was. "It's fine, sir. Clean and drying out. Hopefully we won't get that muddy again anytime soon."
"Maybe," was all Mustang said in response to that, and moved on. "Alright, you all have your files, correct?" Five heads nodded at him, and one tail wagged. "Good. Let's go over what we know." He flipped open his file.
"This is yet another society formed after the Promised Day. It's very secretive and very hard to find. If it was just about being secret, we wouldn't have had any problems with it. However, there have recently been attacks that have been traced back to what the local authorities are calling the Spark. Apparently, people in the area haven't been overly happy with the government, and this group is trying to spark some sort of conflict or knowledge to life."
He flipped the page. "There's several photographs of areas that they've attacked or been spotted at," he said, taking the photos out and passing them around. "Unfortunately, the perpetrators themselves are never caught at the area."
"How do we know that these are all the same group?" Breda asked. "It could be several different groups of people that the local authorities are blaming on one group."
"That's true," Mustang said. "However, there is other evidence that links to this group. Unfortunately, it's circumstantial at best, supposition at worst."
"If it's that unclear, then how come we're being sent on this mission?" Havoc asked.
"We're being sent because it's unclear," Mustang said, "And because of our expertise in dealing with alchemists."
"There's alchemy involved?" Havoc asked.
Mustang nodded. "One of the signs that has been seen at every crime scene are signs of alchemy. It's a very good, very specific kind of alchemy. It's almost impossible to spot if you're not directly looking for it and covers its tracks very well."
He pulled more papers out of the folder and passed them around. "This is Herman Stitue. He was an alchemist that specialized in Alchemy that was difficult to see, mostly for the restoration of objects, buildings, and other places like that. Fifteen months ago, he disappeared, and all of his research was stolen. Seven months ago, his body was found. Six months ago, these alchemic incidents that were covered up started happening. It's suspected that he was kidnapped along with his research and made to train this group."
Hawkeye seemed to tense up a bit at that, and Havoc wondered why. Sure, part of it, he knew, probably had to do with the General's flame alchemy. It was a very secretive, very specialized form of alchemy itself. But this seemed to be a bit more than that. Maybe she was worried about Mustang getting taken on this mission too?
"In fact, when the disappearances of other alchemists were looked into, similar circumstances began to emerge. Investigations has been tracking this one for a while, as it seems that it's mostly been alchemists with very unique or secretive forms of alchemy that have disappeared. This is the first real lead that has been discovered, and the Fuhrer decided it was best to send us on this mission."
No one seemed willing to address the elephant in the room, so Havoc, as usual, bit the bullet and did it himself.
"Begging your pardon, General, but doesn't it seem a bit risky sending you in? After all, Flame Alchemy isn't exactly well known, and you yourself have the hands-free alchemy going on now. Seems like you'd be a prime target."
"I know," Mustang said, and glanced at Hawkeye, who seemed to be sitting very straight, clearly not happy with this turn of events, but also clearly having foreknowledge of it. "But that's part of the point. It's hopeful that my presence will draw them out and that we'll be able to find and apprehend them more directly."
He closed the folder. "It'll be dangerous, but if we can ever get there, it'll be worth it."
"Yeah, well, first we have to get there," Breda said. He looked out the front window, which someone had opened the curtains to, for whatever reason. "But that's not going to happen any time soon, it looks like."
"Alright. Then the question becomes, what do we do in the meantime?" Mustang asked.
"Not get wet," Breda suggested, and Havoc rolled his eyes.
"We have enough supplies to stay here for a few days," Riza said. "We can stay longer if I go hunting."
"If we go hunting," Havoc said. "I'm pretty good too."
Riza conceded that with a nod. "You know how to dress a kill too, don't you?"
"Of course. You got a place to do it? It won't be good to do it in the barn with the horses."
"No, that won't work. It'll make them too skittish. I used to just do it in the backyard, but with all this mud that won't work."
"I'd say your shed, but there's too many chemicals in there to make me comfortable."
"Mm, true, and it's not very big."
"What about the chicken coop? If Mustang can fix it up like he did that gazebo."
"That might work."
"Alright then! What kinds of things can we hunt around here?"
"Well, I've let the land grow wild, so probably a decent verity. Squirrels, rabbits, things like that obviously, but there should be some deer too."
"That sounds good. Hey—ever get any waterfowl on that pond?"
"Okay—" Mustang interrupted them. "So, Hawkeye and Havoc are going to go hunting. What else?"
"Well, sir, if someone else doesn't mind getting a bit dirty, there's always the orchard and whatever is growing out there, and the old garden plot. Could be some vegetables still growing wild." Hawkeye said. "I don't mind taking care of it all, but that is something that someone else can do."
"I can do it," Falman volunteered. "I've been reading over some of the herbology books as well and I think that I might be able to identify other useful plants. I'll be out anyway making my observations on the weather, so if I do it, no one else has to worry about being out in the rain."
Mustang nodded. "Good."
"I'll keep working on the radio," Fuery said. "And, when I'm finished, if there's anything else that needs repairs or fixing, I can always take a look at that. Otherwise, just point me where I'm needed, sir."
Mustang nodded. "We'll probably take you up on that, Fuery."
"I'll help out with whatever needs to be helped out with around here," Breda said, "but I'm also going to be working on these files. I want to be as prepared as possible for it, when we actually go."
"Good," Mustang said. "I'll work on it too. We can discuss it. But I'll also be on standby for any help that might be needed. If we can make it easier with my alchemy, then I'm more than happy to help."
Hayate stood up and barked from where he was next to Hawkeye, his tail wagging.
"Ah, yes, good, Second Lieutenant Hayate," Mustang said. "You'll take guard duty. Excellent."
"At least the pooch is being useful," Breda muttered. He had a truce with the dog, but it was obvious to anyone that he was still not overly comfortable with him.
"For downtime, you're welcome to make use of the library," Hawkeye offered. "Or explore the grounds, if you want. Just please stay out of the study and unoccupied bedroom on the second floor, and the basement."
That was at least twice she had mentioned for them to stay away from the basement and Havoc couldn't help but wonder why. There hadn't been anything special about it that he had seen when he was down there, except that it looked more like a lab then a basement, including a large table with a bright light over it. Maybe it was some alchemy thing, like telling them to stay out of her father's study. He didn't know, but Havoc had to admit that he was curious.
The rest of the day went fairly peacefully. Havoc and Hawkeye talked hunting strategies, and the best places to find things. Fuery worked on the radio, getting Mustang to help him make some parts. Dinner time rolled around, and they paused to eat, and then with some unspoken agreement, sat down their work after that and retired to the living room.
Havoc was glad to see that someone had closed the living room curtains, although he hadn't recalled anyone doing it, cutting off the sight of the pouring rain and adding a layer between the window and ever-present chill the rain seemed to bring.
Fuery kept working on the radio, almost finished with it, and Havoc laid in the floor, stretching out his legs. Falman was in a chair, absorbed in a book, and Mustang and Hawkeye were on the couch, seemingly reading the same book, although Havoc was sure it was just an excuse to be close. Although, looking at them sitting there, a blanket pulled over their laps as they looked at a book, Havoc couldn't help but wonder if he was looking at a picture of a younger Roy and Riza, sitting on the couch, reading, as children.
"Hey," Breda had gotten up and come over to him. "Com'on."
Havoc knew what Breda was talking about, and he laid on his back, lifting his legs up in the air. Breda pressed down on them, and they ran through some of the exercises that Havoc had gone through in Physical Therapy. While he no longer actually needed the exercises for his legs, as he had built up all of his former strength, it was still good to go through them. They felt good to his legs and sometimes they helped him sleep better as well. Breda knew the exercises well, as he had been with Havoc for a lot of his recovery, egging and pushing him on.
They were partway through this, when Fuery suddenly let out a satisfied noise, and all attention turned towards him.
"I think she's fixed!" he said, and went to the front, fiddling with the nobs. He turned her on, and they all waited to see what the radio would bring. To everyone's happy surprise, and Fuery's eternal satisfaction, the radio seemed to find a station in all of the rain and began to play it.
"—was 'The Xingese Sandman' sung by Anette Hanshaw. And now we bring you an hour of your favorite instrumentals to dance along to. Find your girl, fellas, and hold her tight as you dance the night away with these favorites!"
"Hey, good job, Fuery!" Havoc said.
"See if you can find some news on somewhere," Mustang instructed. "Or some sort of weather update."
"Yes, sir," Fuery said, turning the dial.
He switched through various channels, trying to find something, and Havoc couldn't help but notice the way that Hawkeye and Mustang would give each other looks when they landed on the music stations. These two were just getting worse and worse at hiding this, weren't they?
Ah well. It wasn't like anyone here was going to rat them out. And maybe, just maybe, Grumman could do something about it. Havoc had seen the way he eyed the two of them. He wanted them to get together just as much as anyone else did.
Finally, Fuery landed on a station, and they listened as the news played out. There were, apparently, torrential rains over most of the country. Up north it had turned to freezing rain, and there were reports that even Drachma was having to shut down several things on account of it. There was widespread flooding, and stranded passengers from washed out tracks and roads. The military was as mobilized as it could be, but with the problems in transportation, there was only so much that could be done. Most places were simply working with what they had.
Mustang looked a bit grim as the news went off. "That doesn't sound too good," he said.
"It sounds like we're going to be stuck here a while," Breda said. "Means our chance might slip away."
"Or they might be as bogged down as we are." Mautang looked over at Havoc and Falman. "When were you planning on taking the horses and the cart back?" he asked.
"In about two more days," Havoc said. "Why?"
"Well, I left word for Grumman about where we were and what happened, but it would probably be a good idea to check in. I might go with you," he said.
"It's too bad we don't have a phone here," Havoc said. "Then you wouldn't have to leave."
"Um, well, if someone in town is selling one, I could hook it up," Fuery said. Eyes immediately swiveled to him. "It wouldn't be too hard. I'd just need the phone itself and some cable. There's already electricity in place, so there's poles to run the phone wires on. And I think there was a place we passed that had a phone line, so it would really only be running it from there. It's nothing I've not done before."
Mustang frowned. "But in this weather?" he asked.
"Well, it's not thundering and lightening, so it's just the rain and wind I'd have to watch out for, which isn't as dangerous." Fuery said.
Mustang looked at Hawkeye, who nodded.
"Alright," he said. "When we go into town, you come too and see if you can find what you need."
"Can do, sir!" he said.
Havoc, meanwhile, had gone back to his stretches, grimacing a bit, and Hawkeye had taken note.
"Are your legs still hurting you?" she asked him.
"Yeah," he said. "I'll probably be up again tonight."
She looked at Breda. "And your elbow."
"Yeah," he said, removing his hand from it as she spoke, like a little kid caught by a parent.
She frowned. "Sir," she said, turning to look at Mustang. "Did you get those herbs I asked for?"
"I did," he said. "They're in the dining room."
"Good," she said, and got up, leaving the men behind. She came back a few minutes later with a pestle and mortar, and several different kinds of herbs and flowers and dried things that Havoc would have probably chalked up as "weeds."
Falman was looking at it, intrigued. "What are you doing, Captain?" he asked.
"Well," she said. "It's a poultice I used to make as a girl, when my own limbs would ache. It's not perfect and it's not as strong as a lot of medicines, but it does well in that gap between "nothing" and "medicine that leaves me compromised." Her hands were deftly working, almost as if they were moving on their own accord. She clearly knew what she was doing.
Havoc watched her and he and Breda continued to exercise and Fuery put the back on the radio again. Falman had moved next to her, and she was explaining what she was doing in very detailed language that Havoc honestly didn't understand or could hope to understand. All he knew was that she was grinding things up in that little bowl and then adding things to it, making a poultice that would, hopefully, help him.
"Where'd you learn to do all of these things, Captain?" Fuery asked, and Havoc could see Mustang tense at the question.
"Oh, here and there," she said. "From books, and from a few of the older ladies in town," She paused, did something, and then went back to work. "Doctor's visits were expensive, especially for minor things that could heal on their own, so I learned to take care of as much as I could myself. I'm hoping that this will help. As I said, I used it myself when my own limbs would ache."
"Growing pains?" Fuery asked, but he sounded fairly confident in his answer.
"No," Riza said, surprising them all. "I would typically use them after a hard day of cleaning, or cutting wood when I was a little bit older, or any other manner of physical stress, but it was also effective after father's discipline."
She said it like it was nothing, but Havoc couldn't help but notice the tightening of Mustang's lips, or the way the other men seemed to pause.
"…you mean like after that thrashing you said your dad gave you when you broke that dish?" Havoc asked, wondering if he could get a little more information.
Hawkeye let out a snort. "I wish I had this then. But I was five. I didn't know about it yet. Besides, I understand why he was so upset."
That didn't make Havoc any more comfortable, but it was clear from Mustang's look that Havoc—and the rest of them—weren't to pursue. Instead, he changed the subject. "That's the same stuff you gave me after that fight with Henry Thompson, isn't it?"
"It is," she confirmed. "And it helped, didn't it?"
"It did," he said. "It really did. I definitely was hurting then."
"I'd say that it should have taught you not to pick a fight with someone bigger than you, or a larger group, but it didn't do any good for that."
"Hey—I couldn't let them just push you around like that!"
"I'd have been fine. They pushed me around before and I always came out of it okay."
"It wasn't right."
"Neither was you getting your face bashed in. You're just lucky I got help and found that slingshot."
Mustang laughed. "You took us all by surprise with those marbles and that slingshot."
She looked up at him, amusement on her face. "Well, someone had to do something effective," she teased. "You certainly weren't."
Before he could say anything more, Hawkeye got up, taking the bowl with her. "I need to add some water to this. I'll be back in a minute."
She got up and left and the men watched her leave the room before eyes slid back towards Mustang.
"It's the captain's private life, and I'll let her decide what to tell you and what not to," he said.
The men exchanged looks but didn't say anything else.
Soon after Hawkeye walked back into the room with the bowl, it being full of something that smelled good and seemed, well, goopy.
"Here," she said, handing it to Havoc. "Try this tonight after your shower. It should help, I hope. I've never tried it on something like this, specifically, but it's worked on other aches and pains before. It's worth a shot." She looked at Breda. "I made enough for you to have some too, Breda," she said. "It should work on your elbow as well."
"Thanks," he said, looking a little surprised. "I'll try it out."
"If it doesn't work, let me know. I might can find something different. It just might take a little trial and error."
Havoc was sniffing at it. "Huh. Maybe you should have become the local witch woman instead, Riza," he teased.
"You hush," she said. "There's nothing magical about it. It's just a knowledge of herbs and other plants."
He just grinned at her.
It wasn't long after that they all began retiring to bed. The showers had to be taken in stages, although Mustang was good at reheating the water for them. Havoc opted to go last, and so stayed downstairs for a bit longer, leafing through a book he had found. Hayate was down there with him, seemingly taking his guard duties seriously, padding in front of the doors and sniffing around, although he seemed to like sniffing around that basement door the most. It was almost enough to make Havoc want to open it and go back down there.
"Yo, Hav, your turn!"
Breda's voice traveled back down the stairs, and Havoc turned from his musings. "Yeah, coming," he said. He left his wanderings downstairs with his book and headed up the stairs to take his shower. It didn't take him long to shower, and soon he was in the room with the stuff that Hawkeye had made for him. He looked at it, until Breda griped at him.
"Just try it already," he said. "I've already put some on my elbow and it seems to help. It's worth a shot."
"Yeah, yeah." Havoc replied. He scooped a bit out of the bowl it was in and started rubbing it on his legs and lower back. It soaked in like a lotion or oil would and he found it did start to help after a few minutes. "Wow," he said blinking at the poultice. "Alright."
"Yeah," Breda said. "Whodathunk that Hawkeye would be a freaking herb lady."
"Yeah," Havoc said, and frowned a bit.
"Hey," Breda waited until Havoc was looking at him. "What did you mean by that question you asked Hawkeye earlier? About a thrashing."
Havoc frowned. "When we were here last time, I asked her about a broken dish. She said that she had tried to look at it as a child and broke it, and that her father gave her, her 'first thrashing'."
Breda frowned. "First thrashing?" he said.
"That's what she said," Havoc said. "She never really explained it more than that, and I didn't think it best to push. Besides…" he frowned more. "She didn't seem to think that it was a big deal, either, which… I'll be honest, concerned me."
Breda frowned, clearly starting to piece some things together. "Hav… what was she like the last time you were here?"
Havoc was silent for a moment. "…not good. She wasn't doing well here. This place seemed to hold a lot of bad memories for her," he said honestly.
"Anything in particular?" Breda asked.
Havoc's brow furrowed. "Only one particular thing stood out to me. She wouldn't go in the basement."
Breda's frown deepened. "She didn't want to go down to it earlier, either," Breda said. "Asked Mustang to go down there for her."
"Yeah," Havoc said. "When we were searching, she refused to go down into the basement. Mustang and I went down there, but she didn't."
He wasn't going to mention how she had turned pale at it and then disappeared, having a breakdown on the roof of the house. It seemed like a private moment, and not something that she would want to spread to her men. She trusted them a lot, but Hawkeye had her pride.
Breda grunted, thinking, and then sighed. "Well. It's not our business, unless it becomes our business. We might as well see if we can get any sleep tonight."
"Yeah," Havoc said, pulling back the blankets. "Night, Breda."
Breda grunted, and nothing more was said.
Havoc slept better that night, although he still woke early with his legs still hurting him. The longer the rain went on, the worse it seemed to get. Still, he pushed on. Morning went as mornings did, with him, Hawkeye, and Fuery the first ones up. They worked on breakfast, and everyone stumbled down the stairs and to the coffeepot before they all settled in for breakfast. Riza worked on the kitchen while Havoc and Falman went out and tended to the horses. Then, rain gear on, Havoc and Riza went out to get the lay of the land. Getting lucky they managed to kill a few things for their hunt, and set a few traps, but they mostly found good places where they could probably bag a few deer.
They spent at least half the day out there, looking over places and tracks. There were a few human tracks that Havoc spotted, but Hawkeye reassured him that she allowed hunting on her land, since it was one of the few areas where the woods were allowed to grow wild. It was probably another hunter thinking about the fact that there wasn't going to be much food coming via the trains or the roads anytime soon. Havoc couldn't blame them for that.
They returned to the house muddy, but with a plan for the next day, and stripped out of their muddy clothes in the washroom before heading up for showers. Havoc let Hawkeye go first, taking care of their boots while she was showering, and then taking his turn.
Not long after that was lunch, and then they all started going over the information that Breda and Mustang had laid out. They put together a few more theories and ideas on what could be going on, but there was truthfully not much more they could do.
The next couple of days were much of the same. Hawkeye and Havoc got up early the next day, went hunting, and came back with a couple of dear which they spent the rest of the day preparing. Falman found and harvested some food from the orchard trees and from the remains of the old vegetable garden while making his observations. Fuery worked on things around the house, improving them or just outright fixing them. Mustang and Breda helped out where they could—except no one allowed Mustang in the kitchen after another near disaster that was only averted because of Breda's quick thinking.
Although the days passed with a slow pace, all of them felt the urgency that was needed for their travel to continue. Finally, the horses were out of hay, and it was decided that the next day they would need to go back into town. Havoc was set to drive the wagon, as he was the most experienced out of them all, and the roads were still nothing but muck. Unfortunately, when Havoc woke up that morning, he was in a great deal of pain. His legs were aching more than normal and he winced as he sat up, relying more on his arms then anything else.
"Hey—Hav, you alright?" Breda asked him. The movement must have woken him.
"…. There's… a lot of pain this morning," Havoc said as he attempted to stand with some stability.
Thunder crashed overhead, and Breda looked up. "I wonder if that's why," he said. Concern creased his forehead "Hey—you lay back down, alright? You look like you could use it."
Havoc wasn't one to typically give in, but today the pain was pretty severe, and he laid back down in the bed with a grimace. "Yeah," he said a bit breathlessly. "Yeah, I think I will."
"Guess you won't be making it to town today, huh?" Breda said.
"Nah, I'm afraid not. Probably best for me to take one of those pain pills and just not do much today. Sorry."
Breda shook his head. "You can't help it. I'll let the others know."
"Yeah… I'll try to make it down in a bit."
"Okay."
Breda dressed then, and left, heading down the stairs. Havoc could hear the movement and the voices of the others as they woke and moved around, getting their day started. He grimaced. He felt useless, but there really wasn't much that he could do about it. When he was in this much pain, there wasn't much he could do at all, except sleep it off.
He let himself doze, at least until he heard some footsteps, and a knock at the door.
"Yeah?" he said, automatically starting to push up, and then aborting that when pain flared through his lower back.
Hawkeye appeared at the door, a tray for eating in bed in her hands. Havoc suddenly remembered that she had cared for her father near the end of his life, and he wondered if maybe she had used trays like that when he needed to eat.
"Heard that you're feeling pretty bad today." Thunder rumbled again, and she grimaced. "Think it's the change in the weather?"
Havoc shrugged, and pulled himself to more of a sitting position, bracing himself through the pain. "Not sure. I wouldn't be surprised, but all I know is that I'm in a lot of pain today."
"Well, hopefully you can eat a little," she said. "I brought you some breakfast."
"You're the best, Ri," he said, shooting her a grin. He waited until she approached and noted the way that she settled the tray on his lap like a pro, and then set about making sure that things were in easy reach for him, almost without even thinking about it. "So, what's the plan for the day?"
"The others are still going to go to town. Falman thinks he can drive the wagon, and if not, then between the four of them, they should be able to figure it out," she said. "The General wants to call Headquarters and check in, Fuery wants to see about getting a phone set up, Falman thinks he'll be able to take care of the wagon and the horses, and Breda has to 'get out of this house' or he's 'going to go stir crazy'," she said with a grin.
Havoc laughed, but then gave her a sympathetic look. "Hey, Riza, if you want to go—" He felt a little bad about making her stay behind, and so he couldn't help but make the offer.
But she shook her head. "No, I'm going to stay right here," she said. "I had enough of the rain and muck when we were hunting. Besides—It'll be easier to get some of the cleaning down without you men tromping around everywhere," she teased.
"Oh, I see," he said. "You just want some peace and quiet to yourself." He teased her right back.
She laughed. "Maybe so. But even with that, if you need anything, just call."
He shook his head. "Honestly? I'm going to take one of those strong pills and probably try to sleep this off. Although if someone could snag me a book or two that would be great."
"I'll see what I can do," Riza said with a smile. "I'll be back in a bit to get that. You just rest up."
"Yeah, sure," he said. "Thanks, Riza."
She just smiled at him, and then left the room.
Havoc started eating, listening to the sounds going on down below him. He wished he was down there with them, but his legs ached like mad when he moved them, much less tried to get up. Riza came back for the tray, and Breda came back up later to finish dressing. He brought Havoc a stack of books and promised to look for something more his speed in town. Havoc pulled a face at him, but thanked him nonetheless, and got Breda to help him up and to the bathroom once before he left. Once he was settled back in bed, he took one of those little pills, and then listened as he heard the others leave. The pill did it's work and, as he fell asleep, the last things he heard were the sounds of Hawkeye turning on the radio and getting to work downstairs.
The pills always sacked him out hard for a few hours, so Havoc wasn't sure how much time had passed before he heard the noise of the others coming back in. They were being noisy, and something about it had Havoc trying to shake himself out of his drug-induced fog. He blinked, trying to focus and wake up. They seemed to be… calling for someone?... Riza? They were calling for Hawkeye? That didn't make sense. He heard footsteps coming up the stairs, and then making their way around the rooms. That was confusing as well, and he tried to make sense of it, at least until Breda opened the door.
"Hey—you seen Hawkeye?" he asked.
Havoc shook his head. "Naw. I was asleep until just now."
"Hm," Breda said.
Havoc was waking up more now. "Why?" he asked.
"She's not down there. Could she be out hunting or something?" Breda asked.
Havoc forced the sleep away as best he could, and sat up fully, ignoring the pain he felt. "She shouldn't be," he said. "Mornings or evening are best, and we've got plenty. I don't even think she'd be checking the traps right now."
Breda's frown increased. "Alright. I'm going back downstairs. Something's not right here."
"Wait—" Havoc said. He pushed the blankets back and swung his legs out of bed, wincing. "I'm coming too."
"You sure?" Breda asked, looking a bit concerned.
"Yeah—the pain's not as bad right now, not with the medicine on board." Havoc said.
"Alright," Breda said, but he waited on Havoc to get up and pull on some pants before they both made their way down the stairs together.
Downstairs was not in good shape. Mustang looked grim and didn't waste any words.
"Her boots and coat are still here," he said, "and she's not in any of the outbuildings. There's no signs of foul play, but that doesn't mean that there wasn't any."
"She's not upstairs," Breda said. "I checked all the rooms."
A dusty Fuery came out from the kitchen. "She's not in the attic either," he said. "And no signs of any windows being opened."
"Hey—where's Hayate?" Havoc asked, suddenly realizing that the little dog was missing too.
"Maybe outside?" Fuery asked.
"If you're asking about Hawkeye, she's not there either," Falman said, coming in the front door, dripping wet, his back to them as he closed it.
"What about Hayate?" Mustang asked.
Falman turned around. Nestled in his arms was a hopefully asleep Hayate, soaking wet and muddy.
"I found him outside, locked in the chicken coop," he said. "He seemed to have been drugged."
"Drugged?" Mustang said. The ramifications of that hit all of them. Hawkeye certainly wasn't drugging Hayate and putting him outside. That meant that someone else had to have. That also meant that someone could have taken Hawkeye.
But there were no signs of foul play, and she most certainly would have put up a fight.
"…There is one place it doesn't sound like you've checked," Havoc said, and looked over towards the door that led to the basement.
Mustang paled immediately and turned on his heel to head straight for it. The others followed suit, Falman carefully hurrying to put Hayate down in front of the fireplace before joining them.
Mustang was already at the door, reaching to unlock it. The fact that was locked from the outside might have normally been reassuring, as it would have been impossible for the lock to be locked from the outside if someone was inside but considering that it was clear someone had been in the house, it wasn't a reassurance anymore.
Mustang threw open the lock and pulled on the door, but the door didn't budge. He tried again, but it didn't move. He cursed, throwing the lock back into place, and then clapping and laying his hands on the door. A circle of it fell out, part of the door and part of the door frame, large enough to house the entire locking mechanism. Mustang didn't even look at it. Instead, he threw the door open and raced down the stairs. The rest of them weren't far behind him.
The basement was much as they had left it, with the same items around it. The only difference Havoc could see now was that the light over the table was on, and Mustang was trying to talk to Hawkeye, who was crouched in a corner.
No. Wait. She wasn't crouched. She was curled into it, eyes blown wide, clearly terrified. Havoc glanced at Breda. Neither of them knew what was going on.
"Riza?" Mustang called out to her. "Riza?" he reached for her, and she flinched back.
"N-no!" she said, and there was thick fear coating her voice. "No, no, please! Not again! Not yet!"
"Riza—Riza please, it's me, it's Roy."
"No, no, please, no, don't, not again, not yet—"
She was pleading with him, begging for something—for something to stop, to not happen again, or to be delayed, and Havoc felt his stomach turn.
"Riza…" Mustang reached a hand towards her, and she closed her eyes and turned away from it, huddling into the wall as much as she could, letting out a sob. Her hands immediately came up to her mouth as if she had said or done something wrong, and she trembled.
"Riza, please! It's Roy! Come on—" Mustang sounded desperate, and he reached out and touched her. She startled, terror flooding her eyes and suddenly she was moving, scrambling back, finding another place to hide under a desk that was down there. Sobs poured out from under it.
"No, no, Father, please no!" She was out right crying. "It hurts—please Father not again! Let me heal first! Please!"
"Roy—what's going on here?" Breda asked, moving a step forward. "What's she talking about?"
"Later," he said. He glanced back at them. "I'm not putting you off—but we need to get her out of here first." He turned to look fully at them. "Please."
It wasn't the commands of a superior officer. It wasn't even the words of a leader. It was, instead, the plea of a friend.
"She doesn't look like she wants to come out of there," Falman said.
Mustang's face was distressed. "I know—we've got to get her out there. Breda."
"Yeah." Breda's voice was serious, and he moved next to Mustang. With a look at each other, they reached down and grabbed her arms, pulling her out.
Riza screamed as they did, thrashing in their grip. "NO! No Father, please no!" She twisted in their grip, and Havoc couldn't help but notice that her gaze was fixated on the table that was down there. "Please, please, please, the drink doesn't work anymore, it hurts, please don't, don't use the ropes again, please father no, don't please!"
She was clearly caught in the full-on throws of a flashback, with no idea what was going on around her anymore. She was in a panic, not seeing anything around her, not fighting so much as reacting, and begging through tears for her father not to do something to her—all of which was… disturbing wasn't even a strong enough word in Havoc's opinion. It made him feel sick.
"The stairs," Mustang said over her cries, and he and Breda hauled her over to them and up, Hawkeye still begging and pleading the whole time.
Fuery followed after them, and after a moment, Falman did too. Havoc brought up the rear, but he couldn't help but look back at that table. The last time he was down here he had assumed that it was just a table, maybe for doing experiments on. But Hawkeye's words, her begging, the talking of ropes, and those odd-looking metal loops in the table brought new possibilities to mind. Images of a young Hawkeye being strapped down to that table, tied down on it by her father while he… what? What did he do to her? His mind rebelled against imaginong any further, although dark thoughts of what it could be circled in his head, unacknowledged.
Whatever her father did, though, was traumatizing, and Havoc could feel dread living in his stomach from this. It was clear that Hawkeye had been through something awful at the hands of her father, and that it was more than a one-time event. With a last look at the table, he climbed the stairs, hoping that the situation would be improved when he got up there.
The situation was little improved. Hawkeye was still clearly upset, her cries still going on. She had been taken to the couch, where someone had put a blanket around her. She huddled in it like she was hiding, keeping it pulled closely around her, her back pressed into the couch. Mustang was kneeling in front of her, talking to her. Getting her out of the basement seemed to have done something, though, because she didn't seem to think that anyone in the room was her father anymore.
Instead, she was upset about Mustang.
"R-Roy?" she said, and he reached out, gently putting his hands on her face.
"Yes, Riza, I'm here. I'm here, Riza."
She was trembling, and her face crumpled, tears falling. "Roy…"
He smiled at her. "Yes—Yes, I'm here, Riza."
"You—you came back."
Havoc watched as understanding and disappointment flickered across Mustang's face as her words made it clear to all of them that she wasn't back with them yet, but that she was still caught in the past.
"Yeah. I came back," he said, apparently deciding that it would be better to play along with this for the moment.
She closed her eyes and let out a sob, leaning into his hand. Suddenly, her eyes flew open, and her hands darted up to grab his wrists. "You—you have to leave! You have to leave! Father doesn't approve of the military! He'll kill you! He'll—" She sounded so certain, so desperate, and Havoc exchanged looks with Breda.
Mustang shook his head. "No. No, I'm not leaving you." His voice was firm, but there was something that Havoc thought sounded like regret in it.
"But father—" she started.
"He can't hurt you anymore," Mustang said.
Her gaze crumped again. "He'll never stop looking for me, Roy—you don't understand! He won't give up! Not after what he's done to me!"
"No!" Mustang snapped out the word with fierceness. "No, I promise you, Riza! He can never hurt you again! Never! I've made sure of it, and I'll protect you! I swear it!" He moved quickly, wrapping her up in a fierce hug, holding her tightly as they sat there on the couch.
"…y…you promise?" she said, her voice trembling.
"I promise," he said. "I swear it, Riza Hawkeye."
She seemed to fall apart on him there, but they were tears of relief, and she clung to him, sobbing, thanking him, all the while he apologized for not coming sooner.
It was, to an extent, play acting, but Havoc could see clear regret in Mustang's eyes—he regretted not stopping whatever had happened to Hawkeye sooner, not coming here sooner to save her from whatever it was that her father had done to her. Whatever this was, it went deeper than he had imagined.
The team still hovered, none of them sure of what, exactly, to do, and yet none of them wanting to leave Hawkeye's side. Hawkeye's tears eventually calmed, although it was because she fell asleep on Mustang, having cried herself to sleep under his reassurances that he wasn't going to leave her.
Fuery was the first to speak. "…is she going to be alright?" he asked softly.
The room seemed to hold its breath.
"I don't know," Mustang finally said, which was not an answer any of them wanted to hear. "But I'm not leaving her. I promised her I wouldn't."
That much was pretty clear, Havoc thought, and to be honest, no one looked like they wanted to try moving him from the couch anyway—not when they could still see Hawkeye's tear stained face and the way that she clung to him even in her sleep. Not when they could hear the echoes of her screams and sobs.
"What happened to her?" Falman asked and looked as if he immediately regretted saying it out loud, even if it was what they all were thinking.
Mustang just looked down at the woman in his arms, and gently stroked her hair. "Something traumatic," he said. "Something horrifying. But… it's not mine to tell. I won't tell it. It's up to her if she wants to entrust you with it or not. It's not my decision to make."
There really wasn't any arguing with that, and the room fell silent. After a few moments, Fuery got up, and went to the kitchen. Havoc could hear him turning on water and starting to move pots around, clearly starting on supper, even though it didn't look as if any of them were particularly hungry. Breda got up not long afterwards, and Falman as well. Havoc sat for a few minutes longer, and then he, too, got up and started to wander towards the kitchen. His legs were aching again, but he could at least sit and help cut up vegetables.
He walked solemnly out of the room, intent on heading straight for the kitchen. He paused, though, when he saw Falman and Breda looking at the lock that came from the basement door. It was still sitting where it fell when Mustang has used his alchemy to remove it.
"It doesn't make sense," Falman was saying. "I didn't think it did then either, but I wasn't as worried about it at that moment as I was about whatever had happened to Hawkeye."
"No, you're right," Breda said, picking it up and looking at it. "It's locked from both the inside and the outside. The outside makes sense, if someone wanted to keep her in there. But the inside? From the way she was acting, I doubt Hawkeye locked herself in there."
"So then, how did the inside get locked?"
"That's the hundred-million-cen question," Breda said. "The only thing I can think of, is that there's another way in and out of there."
"If there is," Havoc tossed in. "It either wasn't there when Boss, Hawkeye and I came last time, or it's extremely well hidden." He shook his head. "I never saw any sign of a door or other opening down there. And you know Mustang would have mentioned it by now if he knew of one being down there."
"Yeah," Breda said, rubbing his chin. "Hey—how old do you think this house is?"
Falman and Havoc both looked around. "I'd guess over a hundred years old," Havoc said.
"I'd say somewhere around one-hundred fifty, with renovations happening every so often." Falman said. "Looking at the general style, the heights of door frames, and the way the foundation looks around the outside of the house, that is."
"Yeah, okay, so, it's old," Breda said. "So, here's a question: Why doesn't the basement have an outside entrance? Just about every old house I've been in has an outside entrance to the basement for anything from coal to potatoes, to just a quick way to get in and out. So, where's the one that belongs to this house?"
"There… isn't one," Havoc said, puzzled.
"Maybe," Breda said. "Or maybe, there isn't one now. If there is one and it's somewhere, or if the remnants of it exist somewhere, then that might be how someone got in, locked the door from both sides, and still got out."
"We're going to need to find that, then, and see if we can prove it," Havoc said.
"I'll start looking around outside tomorrow," Falman said.
"I'll poke around too, if I can," Havoc said. "I owe it to Hawkeye, at least."
He felt a little guilty for the whole thing. How long had she been down there while he was sleeping in his bed, passed out from a drug? Had she called out for help? Had she screamed for him? Had whoever this was done something to her? He didn't know. He didn't know, because he had been sleeping instead of being up and facing the day like he was supposed to.
Pain be hung, he wasn't going to let that interfere with his ability to be around or help his friends anymore. If he had to put up with pain so that they didn't, then he would. He honestly never wanted to see Hawkeye in that position again, not if he could help it.
Breda seemed to sense what he was thinking and clasped his hands on Havoc's shoulders. "Hey," he said. "This wasn't your fault, okay? You didn't know and you couldn't know. And taking that pill because your legs were in pain is not a bad thing. This was unpredicted. Don't blame yourself."
"Yeah, well…" he sighed. "I'm going to go help Fuery with supper."
Breda let him go, obviously reading that, at the moment, there wasn't a good way to convince Havoc to let go of the guilt. Logically, Havoc knew it wasn't his fault. But knowing that didn't make him feel less guilty, especially when he thought about Riza's pleadings, screams and tears.
"Hey, Fuery, need a hand?" he asked as he walked into the kitchen.
"Hm? Oh, yeah… sure. Just... cut up these vegetables for me, will you? I'm going to make a soup for tonight. I think we could all use something a little warm and comforting." Fuery said.
He wasn't wrong, and Havoc knew it, but he also knew that he didn't currently feel like eating. He pulled out a chair and sat down at the table, getting to work cutting the piles of vegetables that he had laid out. It was good mindless work for his hands as his brain thought and rolled over the knowledge that he had.
He knew that this place held bad memories for Hawkeye, ones that she didn't want to discuss and that he hadn't pushed. Mustang knew most of them, although clearly not all of them. Riza had told them that story about her and the water jars when they had been here earlier in the year, and he hadn't known that one. Also, from the stories, he was about twelve when he arrived, and Hawkeye somewhere around nine. That left a lot of years for Riza to be on her own here. Her mother had been alive long enough to teach Riza some things, but not long enough for Riza to form good solid memories of her.
Riza's father had been harsh to say the least. That thrashing she talked about getting after she broke that plate, the one that she said was the first thrashing that her father had given her. Havoc was pretty sure that it wasn't an over-statement of the past anymore, but a legitimate thrashing that her father had given her when she was five years old because she had dropped a plate he could have put back together again with alchemy.
He also knew that Her father had died in the house, and she had cared for him up until the end.
And now he knew that her father had done something horrific and traumatizing to her, something that, apparently, she was tied down for. The implications of that made a shudder run through him, and he now wondered if that had anything to do with the reason that she always wore shirts that completely covered her back, refusing to take them off.
What kind of a man was her father? And just how twisted up had he gotten her that she wouldn't leave him after that and would, instead, care for him until his death? How had that been broken? He was beginning to understand now why she was so angry about coming back here those months ago. He'd have hated to be shoved back into a place that held a deep trauma like this too. He knew that she had trauma from Ishval as well. Just how had Riza Hawkeye managed to become so stable an individual after all of this? How had she survived in this house and come out as normal as she had? He didn't know, and he wasn't sure that he wanted to, but he was also worried about her. There were too many questions and not enough answers for his liking.
With a sigh he focused on the vegetables and chopping them up. He would likely get no answers tonight. None of them would. He didn't know if they'd get answers tomorrow or not—it really was a long shot. But he did know that he would be there for Riza no matter what.
As Havoc predicted, no one was especially hungry, although they all tried to eat at least a little of the soup. Most of it was put into the refrigerator for later. Hayate, at least, was feeling better, although it was clear that the little pup was still groggy. He mostly wanted to curl up and lay on people. Even Breda was gentle with him this time, gently pushing the little pooch away from him.
Havoc didn't particularly want to leave Mustang and Hawkeye down here on the couch alone—none of the team did—but staying up all night would do no good either. Breda and Falman told Mustang of their concerns about the basement. Together with Fuery, they worked on something to make sure that if there was an entrance to the house from the basement, whoever it was either wouldn't be able to get into the house or would set off alarms if they did. Mustang was armed with his gloves and a small pistol, and Hayate was sleeping on the couch with them as well. In an unspoken agreement, Havoc, Breda, Falman, and Fuery all took turns standing watch that night. However, even for those that attempted sleep, there were a lot of wandering feel and frequent bathroom trips. It seemed no one could quite relax.
Havoc laid in bed and tried to sleep, although it didn't seem to be working. Outside, the rain poured even harder than before, drowning out any other sound he might have heard. The thunder and lightning came in waves of noise. It all seemed strangely appropriate for this day, and it felt like a bad omen somehow. Was something worse to come in the future? He wasn't one to believe in such things, but he still found himself hoping that favor would look kindly upon them. This had surely been enough excitement for one trip, right?