This chapter happens whenever you want it to - no particular timeline position for this one. Just that it's before the big transfer to Central. Go ahead ... enjoy!
CHAPTER 4 - Protective
It was the usual busy evening in Colonel Roy Mustang's office. Falman was down on his knees, meticulously arranging files in a cabinet; while Breda nibbled at a sandwich as he read through a sheet of complaints from cadets living at the barracks. With an unlit cigar dangling from the corner of his mouth, Havoc continued to scribble a report dejectedly. Fuery was in his own little world, struggling to connect the wires of two headsets to his old portable radio receiver, his tongue sticking out in concentration. Hawkeye was proof-reading the Expense Sheet prepared by her superior so that it could be sent to General Grumman's office before the day's end. Mustang himself had taken the opportunity to turn his chair around and stare at the gateways of Eastern Headquarters; the sky had transformed into a brilliant vermilion blanket as the horizon swallowed the sun: Nothing short of typical.
When an unknown young man appeared in the doorway, no one paid him much attention. He knocked his knuckles against the wood and said to no one in particular, "Is this Colonel Roy Mustang's Office?"
All heads turned in his direction as everyone appraised the intruder. He was tall and lean, with black hair and piercing blue eyes. The epaulets on his uniform said that he held the rank of a Sergeant.
"Yes it is," Mustang answered tersely, turning around in his chair to face the stranger. Elbows rested on the table and chin resting on laced fingers, wearing a mask of bored expression, he gave the soldier a once-over. "How can I help you, Sergeant?" He wondered, beckoning him inside with one hand.
Stopping a mere metre away from Mustang's desk, Sergeant Unknown correctly calculated Mustang's rank from the stars glistening on his shoulders and shifted to attention with a brisk salute. Havoc seemed to lose interest in the new man as he returned to his work with an audible sigh.
"At ease," Mustang muttered. His eyes were busy following the movements of his Lieutenant as she lithely moved from her own desk to stand behind his chair, a little to his right. That was the position she wordlessly took whenever some unknown person – a possible threat as she considered it - had crossed into the radius of three metres from him. The others too, like Havoc, seemed to realize that nineteen-hundred hours wasn't too far away. Their shift's end was nearing and normally they disliked over-time. It was only natural for them all to return to their own pending tasks.
"You might want to introduce yourself and your purpose of coming to my office, Sergeant," Mustang said quietly.
"Sergeant Moore, sir." The man announced himself in a rough yet confident voice, his hands folded behind his back with squared shoulders. "I am a part of General Snell's unit from Central, sir. We've been sent to East City by the Fuhrer for inspection of the Archives Department here. And General Snell asked me to fetch First Lieutenant Riza Hawkeye from your office, sir."
Mustang nodded once not giving away any expression. "My Lieutenant here isn't directly related to the Archives Department; any particular reason why General Snell might want her?"
"I'm sorry, sir, but I have no idea why she would be needed right now. I was only asked to find her and take her to his office." Moore answered. He sounded honest.
The Colonel's eyes landed on the grandfather clock on the opposite side of the room. A mere twenty minutes were left for them to stay and work. "Sergeant, it is about time we end our shifts. Cannot this wait till tomorrow morning?" He asked.
From where she stood, Hawkeye could almost feel the Flame Alchemist's protective instincts kicking into place. Some unknown General from Central wished to see her because of something to do with the Archives Department – she didn't mind that. Especially if it could create a good impression of her endeared boss and raise his prospects of hiking further through Military ranks – nearer to his goal, she was readily willing to do it. Apparently though, Mustang wasn't. With a slight frown on her face she watched Sergeant Moore reply.
"I'm afraid not sir," he said. "Our unit leaves East City by tomorrow morning's train at eight o'clock. Your Lieutenant will have to come with me right now, sir." Moore's eyes left Mustang and met hers, his face somewhat imploring.
"Sir," Hawkeye interjected, and he immediately looked at her over his shoulder. "I wouldn't mind over-time. Besides, if this helps build a good reputation for us Eastern soldiers, I'd be willing to help General Snell with his work."
"Are you sure Hawkeye?" Mustang asked with a raised brow. There was an underlying warning in his tone that said he didn't approve of this any more than he approved of rainy day missions.
"Yes, sir," Hawkeye nodded firmly, she knew what she was doing. "Your permission to go, sir?"
"Granted," He replied a moment later and turned back to Moore who seemed happy that he didn't have to coax Mustang further or face questions he didn't have answers to. "You're dismissed Sergeant; and permission to take my Lieutenant has been given."
After Hawkeye had left with Moore, Mustang decided to be useful and checked the Expense Sheet on his own. Miraculously, this time he had managed to tally everything properly. He signed the sheet and asked Breda to submit it in General Grumman's office whilst he was on his way out.
Falman and Fuery were the next to leave, before they left, Falman reminded Mustang of the nine o'clock meeting he had to attend the next day. Grateful for the reminder, Mustang dismissed his two subordinates brightly.
After they were long gone, Mustang watched the only other occupant of the room. Havoc was looking even more dejected than before, he'd been working longer than the others and the man was still struggling with his work. Mustang looked at his soldier with pity; the man wasn't wired for paperwork, he was certainly more cheerful outdoors.
"Havoc," Mustang called quietly.
The addressed man didn't even bother to make eye contact as he answered, "Yes, Chief?"
"Go home, Havoc."
Havoc still continued to scribble dolefully without looking up. "Nah, I'm fi– what?" He looked up, eyebrows raised and eyes disbelieving.
"I just asked you to go home." Mustang stated simply, a tiny smile threatening to break through his nonchalant mask.
Havoc blinked. "Sir, I need to finish this report. It must get to the Archives before lunch tomorrow. Hawkeye would file my Termination Letter if I procrastinated again." The blonde smoker was visibly nervous at that thought.
"I know all that, Second Lieutenant. But I'm dismissing you for the day, and I'm sure you don't want to refuse a direct order." Mustang challenged with a raised brow. When no answer came, he continued. "Besides, Hawkeye isn't here right now. You could come in early tomorrow morning and finish off your work. She doesn't have to know about it."
Havoc continued to stare at his superior for half a minute, his mouth slightly open – Mustang could've laughed for hours at the confused expression on his subordinate's face – then he broke into a crazy grin and shot up to his feet. "Thanks, Chief."
With a pleased smirk, the young Colonel watched his subordinate gather up his belongings as fast as a child running out of a boring Math class.
"Boss," Havoc called when he was at the door. "When are you gonna go home?"
Mustang sighed, "I guess I will stay here -"
"- and wait for Hawkeye, eh?" Havoc grinned as he finished his superior's sentence.
"Yes, Havoc. I'm waiting for her. Now go," Mustang waved a hand in dismissal and watched the man leave with his self-satisfied expression.
The Colonel shook his head, a soft smile gracing his lips. His men truly knew him.
When Hawkeye opened the door of her office at nine, she was expecting a deserted room. But what she found was her superior officer snoring away to glory in his chair.
Just as she shut the door behind her and started for his desk, she let herself have a smile. Watching that man sleep like that brought back a few fond memories of when he'd fallen asleep amidst books of alchemy rather than files of paperwork. Exactly like she had felt while waking him all those times in their youth, she felt now; she felt guilty and despicable for taking away whatever little rest he'd managed to have.
"Colonel," Hawkeye called, coming to a stop beside his chair. His only response was a soft snore that could've molten any woman's heart; not hers though which had been strengthened by bullets and battlefields. She tried again, a little louder, "Colonel? C'mon, sir, you need to wake up."
His brows furrowed before he wearily opened his dark eyes. He blinked once before his eyes settled on her. "Hawkeye you're back," he mused aloud, dragging a hand across his face to drive away sleep as he peeled his head away from the comfort of his chair.
"Yes, sir," she murmured in response. "We should leave now; it's getting late, sir."
"Hmm," Mustang rose to his feet. "What took you so long?"
Hawkeye was already winding up her things, unfolding her coat to put it on for the chilly night that waited outside. "General Snell's unit doesn't know how to look for things in the Archives; even Havoc would do better than them." She smiled a dry smile. "And well General Snell is very … talkative. He was asking me about my career, my family and many more irrelevant things after the real work was done. That's what took time."
Mustang nodded with a yawn, and because of the way she knew him, she knew he was feigning nonchalance immediately. "Yeah, I know. Hughes had mentioned a few things about Snell on the phone sometime back. Anyway, we need to head out." He left his coat hanging on his shoulders like a cape and said, "I'll lock the doors. Have a good night Lieutenant."
"You too, sir," she answered, letting her sniper stare linger on her boss for another moment. And then he watched her clip-clop out the door in her military boots.
Mustang took his own sweet time switching off the lights and shutting the doors. He had just stuck the key into the keyhole when he heard voices down the corridor.
A gruff voice, with a false tinge of sweetness was asking, " . . . . . you like a ride a home, Lieutenant? I have hired a Military car for my travels in East City."
"No thank you, General," replied Hawkeye's voice coolly. "I am used to walking home, I'll be fine."
(In the back of his mind, Roy found himself blessing the hallways for being exactly spacious to let the sound travel to him without much decrease in the loudness.)
"But I could drop you on my way to the hotel, Hawkeye; not a problem." The General insisted. His voice lowered only slightly, but Mustang could still hear him as he said, "We could even grab a drink, if you're tired from the day's work."
At that Mustang's feet set into action. He walked in direction of the voices and came to a stop one corridor from his own office. Hawkeye stood with her hands folded behind her back a few feet away from a middle-aged man. The man was short – barely a centimetre taller than Hawkeye – and had broad shoulders, with a tiger moustache. His hair had begun to grey, and he wore a pair of horn-rimmed glasses on his pointy nose. A soldier who'd apparently never seen war. What a perfect General.
Both of them fixed their eyes on Mustang. Hawkeye seemed only slightly relieved at his unexpected appearance while Snell was visibly disappointed by his intrusion. Mustang couldn't help but feel satisfied at that.
"Good evening, General," he said, holding out a hand. "I'm Colonel Roy Mustang."
The General gingerly shook his hand. "The Flame Alchemist? It's good to see you in person; though I never thought you'd be this young."
Mustang chuckled. "It's my pleasure." Pointing a finger in Hawkeye's direction he said, "If you don't mind, sir, I'd like to take Lieutenant Hawkeye back to our office. Some files have to be sent to the Accounts Manager today itself, and I'm in a hurry."
"Oh, of course." Snell fake-smiled. "I was just offering her a ride home, nothing important. I should be leaving now."
Mustang nodded, "Yes, sir. I hope you have a safe journey to Central."
"Thank you, Mustang." Snell said over his shoulder as he wobbled away toward the staircase.
The Colonel and his adjutant waited till the sound of Snell's heavy footsteps had faded. Hawkeye turned her gaze onto Mustang pointedly, "I don't think there are any files to be submitted, sir."
"And I don't think you wanted to grab a drink with him." Mustang countered.
She sighed. "You're right, sir. Thank you."
"No problem. But I am driving you home Hawkeye, no arguments."
Hawkeye was asked by her superior officer to not argue; which means that's exactly what she did. When he held his car's door open for her, she said, "Sir, you don't have to do this. My apartment isn't even on your way. It's -"
"Get in, Hawkeye." He said calmly.
"But sir, I am capable of -"
"I know what you're capable of." He interrupted. Gritting his teeth, he said, "I think I asked you to get inside the car."
"Sir, I don't want to cause you any inconvenience -"
"Get in, right now."
She realized there was no way he was going to listen to her. His tone clearly signalled that he could lose his temper any minute; and so she wisely got in.
He banged the door shut so forcefully when he climbed in that she feared the hinges might just shatter. She'd obviously seen him drive before, so she certainly noticed that he'd gripped the wheel too tightly. She thought over what she'd done to upset him to this extent but she found nothing; she was sure the little argument about him dropping her home wasn't the cause of his anger. But, then, what was?
A few minutes later, when he looked slightly calmer, she broke the silence. "Sir, you didn't have to wait for me," she murmured, staring right out the windshield.
One corner of his mouth lifted in a half-smirk of wry humour, "Didn't have to, but wanted to," he said; he gave her a meaningful sidelong glance, and she knew he'd been worried about her, and that same worry was the reason behind his unexplained anger. "Hawkeye, I need to know everything that happened when you were working with Snell."
That wasn't something she was expecting him to bring up, so it took her more than a second to reply. "Moore took me to the Archives Storeroom and I introduced myself to General Snell." Mustang nodded, indicating that he was listening. "He handed me a list of files that his unit had been unable to find and asked me to look for them. Finding those files was easy work; like I said, Snell's men didn't know how to work and that's the reason they didn't locate the files themselves. And then he dismissed his men while I was packing the files that needed to be carried to Central. After -"
"So you were alone with him?" Mustang interrupted.
"Uh, yes I was." She replied, confused. "After that he just started an irrelevant conversation as he signed some paperwork. I already told you sir, that he asked me about my career, family … even offered me a position as his assistant with a promotion to the rank of a Captain."
At that her superior's eyes blazed like the fire he could summon. His eyebrows knitted together and his fingers seemed to tighten on the steering. He asked in a perfectly casual tone, too perfect to sound genuine, "And what did you say to that?"
"I denied, of course." Hawkeye answered crisply.
"Why?"
Now he was annoying her. He'd asked her something unexpected and on top of that he was questioning her decision to refuse a position as someone else's assistant. "Sir, do you really have to ask?" She questioned deliberately.
"That's not what I meant," he said quickly, sensing her indignation. "What I meant to ask was: what reason did you give him for refusing the offer?"
"Is that so," she murmured, calming down nonetheless. "I told him that I didn't want to live in Central since I don't like the city much. Well, I made up the other reason since the first one wasn't very effective despite it being true. I told him that I have to stay in East City because a doctor is treating my respiratory problems that started during the war."
"You're one witty woman, Hawkeye. But really, he didn't suspect you?" Mustang asked.
"There are certain advantages of being a female soldier, sir. I just used them to my benefit." She stated simply. "But sir, I need to know why you're even thinking about any of this." Hawkeye said softly, eyes watching the buildings and trees that ran past. "You never ask me for detailed reports when I work with General Grumman, or even if Major Armstrong is in East and needs my assistance. Why so speculative today?"
"Because there are certain disadvantages of being a female soldier too," Mustang answered; when she murmured a soft 'huh?' he added, "General Snell's a crazy womanizer."
He watched as she turned to him and raised a brow in question meaning to ask 'and you're not?'
"You know me; I just create a façade of the insufferable playboy. The fact that I act well makes it too believable. But Snell, he's different," he sighed, turning the wheel to steer the car into a lane on the right. Hawkeye's house wasn't much farther anymore and there were some testing things left to explain.
"How's he any different?" She prompted when Mustang had fallen silent.
"All he's looking for is some pretty girl to spend a good night with, and he'd use any means to get that," his reply was blunt. "Maes even told me he's been accused of abuse." He added quietly.
"Oh." She seemed to realize just why Mustang had acted so uptight when Moore had mentioned Snell. "I appreciate your concern, sir, but I can look after myself."
He sighed in response, pulling the brakes right outside her building. "I know, but I still worry." He admitted. "You're not the only one who's made someone a promise."
Riza spun her head in his direction, a little line of confusion between her brows. Roy had folded his hands on the steering and laid his chin atop, black eyes staring down thoughtfully at the lamp-lit street. She took a minute to think over his statement – trying and succeeding in not letting his striking appearance distract her – but her mind couldn't decipher the deeper meaning that was certainly present. "Sir … I don't think I'm following you," her voice was soft.
"I promised your father that I would look after you," he explained. "Every time I pull on my gloves, that little secret of ours and my despicable deeds pop up in my mind." He fixed his eyes on her and sighed. "I hope to keep the promise I made to your father till my last breath. Well, it's not just for the sake of keeping a promise, I really am anxious about you every minute of the day."
She let that sink in. And she promised herself that she would never admit it out loud that his words actually made her day. Eyes softening somewhat, she watched him sit up and toy with his keys. "You might not want to put your thoughts in such a way sir, no matter how good your intentions are," she warned, and she was sure he heard the underlying tinge of playfulness. "If heard by the wrong ears, they can imply something that could endanger one or both of us."
"I trust you more than I trust myself, so there are no unfriendly ears right now," he stated, flashing her a smirk. "But I'll be sure to emulate on your advice next time, Hawkeye."
"Good night, sir." Hawkeye said, hand already on the handle.
"Uh-huh, not so soon," she saw Mustang shake his head. "I'm walking you to your doorstep."
"And nothing I can say has the power to change your decision?" She wondered, her brows raised in exasperation.
"That's correct," he nodded, getting out of the car.
They bickered and bantered all the way to the gate. And even as they climbed up the two sets of stairs, she insisted that she was an adult and he kept saying "Promise, promise."
Finally outside her door he stood, watching her pet that little beast of hers and he knew now that he'd fall asleep into a dreamless sea. She looked at him over her shoulder, "Sir, are you going to tuck me in now?"
Roy Mustang gave vent to a genuine laugh. "No, I'm sure you'll manage that on your own. Good night Hawkeye, see you tomorrow."
Noticing that he hadn't turned around even after saying that, Riza ordered Hayate to "stay" and stood up. Casually leaning in the doorway, facing him, "Will you be able fall asleep now?" she asked quietly.
"Yes I will," he answered.
"G'night, sir. " Riza smiled. And without hesitation, she slowly shut the door on his face. When she had pushed the noisy and rusty tower-bolt into its rightful place, she heard those familiar footsteps fade away.
Turning around to lean against the wood of the door, she smiled; a full smile that let light reflect off her teeth. She looked down at Hayate, "He's too protective, isn't he?"
Hayate canted his head to the side and made a low whinnying sound, suggesting his impatience to have his dinner. Riza scratched him behind the ears, the beautiful smile never leaving her face, and scooped him up. "I don't know what you think of his quirks, but I think he's really adorable when worried."
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... A bad news is that I'm going to be exceptionally busy till 31st March, 2016. But rest assured that you'll get an amazing chapter on April 5, 2016. And if I get the time I may even post a Christmas fic; so keep your eyes wide open! Please forgive me people, I love you all.