Bottom of the Bottle

Riza Hawkeye, known for her shooting, saved many lives in the war. In doing so she ended many lives too. It was a soldiers duty to follow orders and she'd done so, earning herself respect on the battlefield. This respect meant nothing to her though, in her eyes, she was a murderer.

The sun was setting, casting an orange glow over the tents of the dusty campsite in Ishbal. A lone cloaked figure sat beside the fire, watching it through brown eyes until the sun sunk belong the horizon and the world was shroud in darkness, her face lit only by the campfire that burned before her.

Burning. That horrid smell of human flesh, and the screams. Men, women, children. It made no difference, there was no mercy for any of them. And their blood on his hands. She'd sworn to protect him but how could she protect him from his inner demons when she could hardly handle her own. Her nights were flashes of the faces of those she'd shot. Blood stained her hands just as much as the next soldier.

And now here she was, sat alone at the fire, bottle clutched in her hand. For soldiers to find relief at the bottom of the bottle wasn't uncommon. All of them craved the same thing; to be able to forget the horrors they'd faced. And alcohol provided that relief.

She lifted the bottle to her lips and took a large mouthful, grimacing as the taste hit her. The fire illuminated the bottle, half empty, amber liquid inside.

"Hawkeye?" Roy's voice.

The Flame Alchemist stepped into view. His uniform was dirty and face tinged red from the heat. Slowly he approached her, crouching down before her.

"Hawkeye, look at me" he said firmly, eyes trained on hers.

She met his gaze through unfocused eyes and she nodded at him in acknowledgement.

"Let me take that, no need for this" he murmured, prying the bottle from her grasp and setting it aside.

He took note of the drink, whiskey, she'd drunk a lot. She certainly wasn't sober. Like so many soldiers before her, he could she she'd been trying to drink the demons away. Nothing would take them away and he knew it. They plagued him dreams and this was the first time he'd seen that they affected her too. He mentally cursed himself, she'd denied it but he knew the only reason she was there was because of him, and so the pain she felt was because of him too.

"I'm sorry sir" her voice drew him away from his thoughts.

"Don't be sorry Hawkeye, it's okay, come to my tent, we can talk" he wrapped an arm around her and pulled her upright, she could stand by herself just fine but he didn't want her unsupported just in case.

Even if he couldn't save her from her inner demons her could at least stop any necessary falls. Together, then left behind the campfire and slowly made their way to the tent belonging to the Flame Alchemist.

Riza sat on the foot of his bed as he stood before her.

"Hawkeye, don't try finding comfort in the bottle again. it won't work. I need to know you can keep yourself safe and that you are looking after yourself" He said, looking down at her.

She up at him. His eyes were the same as they'd always been, dark, betraying no emotion, but the unmistakable fire still burned in them despite all he'd seen. The man that stood before her was far from broken. This war had damaged him but he was still a man of ambition and she could see it.

"I'm sorry sir" She repeated.

What was there to say? There was no point in apologising when she'd already drunk.

"No, don't apologise" he ran a hand through his unkempt hair,"promise me this won't happen again, please"

His voice was pleading. Fear laced each word and his voice broke on the word 'please'. He was scared. Of losing her. Of losing the one thing his sanity clung to. He felt responsible for her state and she realised it. Anything that happened to her would be his burden to bare.

"It won't happen again" her voice was stoic as always but their eyes met and the meaning the words held was understood by both.

"Thank you" his formal facade had returned,"Get some sleep Hawkeye"

She nodded and turned away, slipping her shirt of revealing the tattoo. He stood and stared for a moment, cringing at the destruction the tattoo had made him capable of. With that he turned and left, leaving her to rest until she had to face another day on the battlefield.