Moral Support
"Nam et secundas res splendidiores facit amicitia et adversas partiens communicansque leviores."
("Friendship makes prosperity more shining, and lessens adversity by dividing and sharing it.")
~Marcus Tullius Cicero, De Amicitia
Rather to her surprise, Riza did in fact sleep for twelve whole hours that first night, wakened only once by her nightmares near dawn. Rebecca turned up just before eight o'clock in the morning. Her hands were occupied by a white paper bag and a large thermos, and she had a thick manila folder tucked under one arm.
"Coffee?" Riza managed around a yawn, perking up hopefully at the sight of the thermos.
"Yup!" Rebecca chirped. "And pastries, and a little bit of paperwork," she added, enjoying the adorably sleep-rumpled look on her normally neat-and-prim friend. Had her hands been free, she may have indulged the impulse to ruffle Riza's already tousled hair, but unfortunately for her, Riza quickly finger-combed it into some semblance of order even as she stepped aside to let Rebecca in her room.
As promised, Rebecca had stopped by her office to collect the paperwork necessary to have Riza's mail forwarded to her new temporary address at the barracks. She'd also made a few phone calls, and had been assured by the clerk that anything still being held at the Academy's postal annex should arrive within a week.
Riza was rather amused by her friend's unexpected proficiency with bureaucratic procedures and forms. Rebecca shrugged, a little self-consciously.
"It's like you once said: if I'm not particularly good at one aspect of the job, then I'd better be damn good at something else," she retorted cheerfully. "The paperwork can get a bit tedious, but..."
She didn't elaborate, but she didn't have to – Riza understood what she wasn't saying. When it came to one's usefulness to the state, a delicate balance had to be maintained. Both women had seen what happened to the truly talented soldiers during the war. Those who proved efficient killers, like the snipers and State Alchemists, were pushed into the very heart of battle where death was more certainty than risk. The skilled tacticians were obliged to look on living and breathing men as pawns in a game, and to make game-changing decisions about which could be sacrificed and which could be saved without regard for the value of individual lives. The inspirational leaders placed in command positions were obliged to follow orders of their own, some of which forced them to send their subordinates and comrades to their deaths.
But those with more modest abilities, who were also useful in some other way (such as dealing with quarterly budgets or supply inventory)…those soldiers were often more valuable off of the battlefield. Those soldiers were the simple but integral cogs that ensured the country's infrastructure continued running smoothly from day to day.
And if Rebecca had decided to aim for an administrative position in spite of her potential talent as a sniper, Riza certainly didn't blame her.
"Catalina…" Riza said, hesitantly.
"Hm?" Rebecca replied, looking up from the forms she was helping to fill out.
"Do you—are you planning to stay? In the military, I mean?"
Rebecca blinked and slowly set down her pen.
"You're thinking of getting out?" she asked softly. Riza sighed.
"I'm really not sure what I'm thinking," she admitted. "Never mind; forget it."
Rebecca opened her mouth to argue. But the tension in Riza's jaw and the dullness in her eyes made her friend swallow her protests and return her attention to the paperwork.
After dropping off the completed forms to the most competent officer Rebecca knew, the two women were obliged to part ways, since Rebecca was due back at work. Riza took the opportunity to deal with some of her more immediate needs: laundering all of her uniforms and underclothes, assessing which items needed to be repaired or replaced, and picking up some essentials from the shops to tide her over until she could arrange for the remainder of her personal items to be sent to her from the long-term storage facility.
The next several days passed in much the same way. Riza dealt with her mundane chores and shopping while Rebecca was at work, occasionally meeting up for Rebecca's lunch break. The evenings they spent together as often as they were able, talking and reminiscing and trying their best to fill in the pieces of each other's lives that they'd missed over the past year. And if Riza was tense and edgy or Rebecca occasionally fell silent, each was at least certain that her friend would understand.
"You know, it's still a male-dominated field," Rebecca announced suddenly over dinner one night.
"I beg your pardon?" Riza asked, completely nonplussed.
"The military," Rebecca stated. "Men still outnumber women something like eight to one. The way I figure, it doesn't hurt to stack the deck in my favor. You know?"
"What on earth are you talking about?"
"Finding myself a good man to settle down with, of course," Rebeca replied matter-of-factly, acting as though they had been in the middle of a lengthy discussion, when in reality she'd just dropped a non sequitur into a temporary lull in the conversation.
"Ooo-kay," Riza frowned, wondering whether she'd missed something.
It certainly wouldn't have been the first time. Her thoughts had been…elsewhere, lately.
Hawkeye still wasn't sure what she was going to do. Whether to stay in the military and spend the rest of her life trying to atone for the lives she'd taken, or whether to run away and try to find peace living simply in the farming town she'd grown up in…or whether to do something else entirely. The only thing she had decided was that any thoughts about her future couldn't be settled until she was freed from the burden her father had placed, literally, on her back.
Although she'd known for a fact that Mustang had been on the same train, Hawkeye had deliberately refrained from looking for him when she'd stepped onto the platform that first day. She'd known that he'd been avoiding her since their last meeting, and at that point she hadn't been quite ready for another painful conversation with him, either.
Her selfish request to destroy the array on her back had crushed another little piece of his soul…she'd seen it in his eyes, even as he'd agreed to it. He would probably need a bit more time to reconcile himself to the idea. The fact that he'd been careful to promise to contact her only once they'd both gotten to Central had only proved that he didn't want anything to do with her until then.
On top of that, Mustang had a loving family (of both the blood-related and adopted variety) waiting to welcome him home with open arms. He would surely want to spend as much time with them as possible before he was reassigned elsewhere. With his aunt and 'sisters,' Mustang could be light and easy in a way he had never been with Riza, and as foolish as it was to make comparisons, she couldn't deny the pangs of jealousy that stirred within her at the very thought. For them, he would conjure up smiles, comforting words, warm embraces…and for her, all he had left was anguish and shame and sorrow. Of course he would rather be with them.
But he wouldn't forget about his promise to her, Riza told herself again and again. He couldn't.
Right?
And so with every day that passed without hearing a single word from Mustang, Hawkeye's anxiety level ratcheted up another notch. And although she thought she'd been hiding it well, Rebecca had noticed.
"All right," Rebecca sighed, pushing her plate aside. "Listen, I know I said it was fine if you didn't want to talk about it…but come on, Riza! At this rate, you're gonna spontaneously combust or something. Is it something about this place making you so anxious? You wanna go back to the barracks?"
Riza looked up from her own food in surprise.
"What do you mean?" she said carefully.
"All week long, off and on, you've been all…antsy. You keep checking the clock, you haven't been able to sit still for more than five minutes at a time, and you just added salt to your tea instead of sugar."
Riza froze with the tea cup halfway to her lips. Knowing that Rebecca wouldn't lie to her about something like that, she carefully set it back down.
"I'm sorry," she sighed. "I'm just…a little distracted, that's all. What was it you were saying?" she tried. Rebecca shook her head.
"Not important." They could talk about the pros and cons of staying in the service later, she thought. "Look, I hate to be so ham-handed about this, but… does it have to do with the topic which shall not be named? Is there anything I can do to help?" she asked, half-determined and half-terrified. She had promised not to push, after all.
"Actually, no…it's nothing to do with Ishval. At least, not directly," Riza replied with a sad little half-laugh.
How strange that her thoughts were so completely consumed with a personal topic, Riza thought. She'd been so sure that she'd never be able to think about anything other than the horrific images from Ishval ever again.
"Yeah? What's eating at you, then?" Rebecca pressed.
Riza hesitated. Aside from a few details she'd need to leave out, the true story was safe enough to share (with Rebecca, anyway, though probably not with the entire staff of the restaurant). She sighed softly and pushed her own plate away.
"Let's head back. I'll tell you about it there," she promised.
Twenty minutes later, Riza found herself sitting on Rebecca's bed with her friend staring at her expectantly.
"You're always giving me advice. I think it's about time I returned the favor," Rebecca prompted gently. Riza smiled faintly.
"Do you remember, back when we first met, I told you that my friend's dreams were what inspired me to enlist in the military?" she began.
"Yes, of course," Rebecca nodded, rapt. She also recalled very clearly how any subsequent teasing about this 'friend' had always made Riza blush a little, no matter how hard she denied it.
"I...we sort of...we ran into each other, out there," Riza admitted softly, picking at Rebecca's quilt absently.
"Omigod, what?!" Rebecca squealed, her eyes lighting up. "So what happened? What'd you say? What'd he say? Did he swoop in to rescue you from a group of enemy soldiers? Did you tell him you've been in love with him for years? Did you make wild, passionate love under the stars?"
"Christ, Catalina! What kind of trashy romance novels have you been reading?!" Riza gasped, more amused than truly shocked. "You do realize that we were right in the middle of the front lines of a war zone? Our main focus was survival. I mean, we barely had time to eat and sleep, much less...fraternize."
"Sorry, sorry! Can't blame a girl for being curious," Rebecca grinned, unrepentant. There was a certain kind of romance about two lost souls taking comfort in each other's arms; finding love in spite of the pain and death and fear that threatened to consume them.
"And anyway, I was the one who saved him," Riza said loftily.
"Shut up! Seriously? Okay, details immediately, please," Rebecca demanded, resting her chin in her hands and fixing Riza with a hard stare.
Riza had to smile. Were they really sitting here talking about man troubles? It almost felt like old times. All they were missing was the contraband sweets and alcohol.
"We'd just taken one of the sacred cities; a major stronghold," Riza began. "It had only been cleared that afternoon, and three other battalions besides mine had set up camp right in the main square. I was on watch up in one of the towers on the northern edge of the city."
Rebecca squirmed in anticipation, but didn't interrupt.
"There was a wounded insurgent lying in wait, hiding among the corpses that hadn't been disposed of yet," Riza went on. "He made a move on two of ours, one of whom turned out to be my friend. They were exhausted and distracted and caught completely off guard—didn't even have enough time to reach for their weapons."
"They weren't walking around unarmed?" Rebecca gasped.
"Not exactly…" Riza hedged, deciding to leave the whole State Alchemist part out of it. "But luckily for them, I had a clean shot and I took it. I'd worked a bit with the other officer, a few days before," she explained. "So he came around to find me later, to say thanks. And…he brought my friend along with him."
Riza's eyes darkened slightly, and Rebecca bit her lip.
"And then?" she prompted carefully, after a few seconds of tense silence.
"You should have seen the look on his face when he recognized me," Riza murmured. "He was completely horrified."
"What? How do you mean?" Rebecca gasped, instantly indignant. "What the hell is the matter with him?! Why wouldn't he be overjoyed to see you again?"
"Because he'd assumed that I was still safe and happy back home. Where he'd left me."
"And then you turn up right in the middle of a battlefield," Rebecca said, beginning to understand.
"The people he'd killed, the terrible things that he'd seen—that he'd done—suddenly he realized that I'd seen and done those same things," Riza explained softly.
"Oh," Rebecca whispered, creeping closer so that she could lean against her friend's side.
"I think he blames himself for getting me involved. He knew that I'd been affected by all his talk about his dream of protecting the country and serving the people…and so he holds himself responsible for my demons as well as his."
Both women were silent for a moment.
"Well, that's a load of crap," Rebecca finally stated. "I'm sorry to be so blunt, love, but it's true. We all had our own reasons for joining up, sure, and once you're in, you've gotta follow orders unless you want to be court-martialed or killed. But ultimately the only one responsible for your choices—is you."
Riza huffed out a breath.
"I know that, and you know that. And so does he, deep down. But…he can't help how he feels."
"So, you're upset because you know he feels guilty over your choice, even though it wasn't his fault?" Rebecca asked, frowning.
"That's part of it, I suppose," Riza sighed. "It's…a bit complicated. And we left things on an awkward note. He said he'd get in touch once we were both here in Central City, but..." she trailed off with a helpless little shrug.
"But he hasn't," Rebecca supplied. "Do you know how to find him? Or where he's staying?"
"Yes. He has a place here in town: a townhouse."
"Yeah? You know the address?" Riza nodded. "So what's to stop you from going to him?" Rebecca asked tartly, standing up suddenly to rummage through one of her cupboards. "Not a damn thing, that's what. You know what? You're going to go over there right now and seduce him."
"I beg your pardon?" Riza squeaked. "Rebecca, I'm not, we're not like that, it's—"
"Nope, stop that. You're overthinking things. Here. Drink this," she added, shoving a glass of amber liquid into Riza's hands.
"Rebecca," she protested weakly. Sitting on Rebecca's bed and gossiping over a secret stash of booze increased that sense of nostalgia she'd been feeling. What, no s'mores? Riza thought somewhat hysterically.
"Just drink it; it will calm your nerves a bit," Rebecca ordered. "Now listen to me," she added as Riza reluctantly took a sip of the drink. It burned pleasantly going down. "The two of you need to have a real honest conversation about what you're both thinking and feeling. He's avoiding you because he's all guilt-stricken, which you say he shouldn't be because you made your own damn choice to join up, even if the original idea did come from him. Right?"
"Right," Riza confirmed.
"So get your ass over there and tell him so!"
"You make it sound so easy," Riza said softly, staring down into her now empty glass. Rebecca poured out another generous measure and sat down facing her.
"It's easier than you think," she said gently, pressing the glass back into Riza's hands. "Would you rather sit here fretting and moping over it? Or would you rather go talk to him and clear the air between you, before it's too late?"
"I-I suppose you're right," Riza said, fingers tightening around the glass.
"Of course I am; I'm always right," Rebecca replied with a wink.
"But…what if he doesn't want to talk to me?" Riza asked in a tiny voice.
"Have a little confidence, dearest. He gave you his address, didn't he? Seems to me it'd be easier to avoid you without telling you where to find him, yeah?"
"I guess," she said, doubtfully. He'd actually given her the address years ago, when he'd first bought the place. But he had given it to her…and he'd mentioned that he wouldn't be staying in the barracks when they got to Central.
"Look, even if you don't wanna tell him you're madly in love with him—"
"I am not!" Riza protested at once. Rebecca waved her objections off.
"You are so. But even if you don't want to admit it, you still need to talk to him about this whole guilt and blame crap before things between you get all awkward and you're both too damn scared to take the first step to repair your friendship. You DO still want to be friends with him, right?"
"Yes, of course," Riza said at once. Her glass was half-empty already.
"Then that's a start. Bottoms up!" Rebecca ordered. Riza complied. "Good girl. Now, let's get you tarted up just a teeny bit, and then you're gonna go and tell that man to stop being an ass so you can have your way with him, already!"
As Rebecca bustled around her room gathering lipstick and a short skirt and a tighter blouse than Riza was ultimately willing to wear, Riza dug her nails into her palms and tried to remember how to breathe. If she was really going to do this, just turn up at his door...then that would be it. She wouldn't leave until he'd fulfilled his promise.
She was going to need another drink for this.
Rebecca followed her, of course. She wasn't going to send her best friend off alone and half-drunk to meet up with some stranger, regardless of the history they had. She had to at least check up on him. If anything about him seemed dangerous or fishy to her, she'd step in and drag her friend back to the relative safety of the dorms.
She brushed her fingers over the revolver at her hip. Just because she worked a desk job these days didn't mean she neglected her hard-earned skills. Though she was nowhere near as good a marksman as Riza, she was still a pretty damn good shot. And she'd learned the hard way that she was definitely willing to kill to protect a comrade.
Once they reached the mystery man's neighborhood (which was actually a lot nicer than Rebecca had expected), the cheerful warm glow of the street lights made it more difficult to hang back and lurk in the shadows. Fortunately, Riza was so focused on her mission objective that she wasn't looking around with her usual vigilance. Which was only more cause for concern, in Rebecca's opinion, and she felt perfectly justified in her decision to follow her friend without telling her. Someone had to look out for her.
Finally, Riza slowed and then stopped completely, right in front of a handsome brownstone. (A really nice and undoubtedly expensive brownstone, Rebecca noted. Just who was this guy, anyway?)Across the street, Rebecca loitered casually in front of a lamp post, trying to look innocent.
It took Riza another minute to gather her courage, but when she did, she darted up to the door and jabbed the bell with a violence that made Rebecca raise an eyebrow.
When the door opened, Rebecca gasped aloud. Wasn't that…? Sweet baby Fuhrer, Riza's mystery man was Roy Mustang? As in, the Hero of Ishval, the Flame Alchemist, the youngest (and best-looking) alchemist to enlist in over two decades Roy Mustang? HE was Riza's old childhood friend, for whom she'd carried a torch since before Rebecca had met her? Seriously?!
Well hot damn. Her girl had good taste, at least.
Mustang looked softer than his official photos, unsurprisingly, dressed as he was in casual civilian clothing. But it was his facial expression that interested Rebecca the most. He had the same vaguely haunted look on his face that all of the newly returned soldiers had. But as Riza shouldered her way past him, dropping her polite reticence for the first time since Rebecca had known her, his lips twitched in a faint smile. Clearly, he was happy to see her, even if they'd parted under less than ideal circumstances.
Rebecca waited for half an hour just to be sure everything was all right. She debated trying to peek through a window or something, but quickly dismissed the idea. The last thing she needed was to have a suspicious neighbor call the MPs on her. And suppose Riza had taken her advice and seduced the man? She sure as hell didn't need an eyeful of that.
When the light in the front room suddenly went out, Rebecca beamed wickedly.
"Atta girl," she thought, turning to leave. "I knew things would sort themselves out."
A.N. I'm so sorry for the delay on this update, everyone! I've had a rough couple of weeks. I'm not quite finished with this story yet, so even if updates are a little slower than usual, I promise I have not abandoned anything. Thanks for your patience!
xoxo Janieshi
*p.s. If you're curious about what happens between Riza and Roy, my other story "Scar Tissue" picks up almost exactly where this chapter leaves off :D