Reius Devirix—The past part is a separate chapter, I just forgot to put the horizontal rule in. I fixed it though. Marz1—More Ed and Al are in this post somewhere. Roaming Fool—Thanks! Yes, I know it could have been done with a better transition but from experience in posting stories in this stilted, serialized (with long gaps between posts) format I find I get a less confused replies if I cam less subtle. Darkpit—Hawkeye is fun to write and thanks. BarbaraA—Thanks so much. Glad you are enjoying it.
Payback
The Present
The wooden desk chair provided no comfort as Mustang shifted painfully in the seat. To his right, at the edge of his vision he caught the blue of Hawkeye's uniform. He did not want to meet her gaze, though he could almost feel the heat of it boring through him.
Staring tiredly at the stack of papers neatly situated in the center of his desk that he had left incomplete several days earlier, he realized that the pile had grown, perhaps even tripled in size. Certainly there had to be a rule that said paperwork could not continue to accumulate when one was hospitalized. Especially when it was hard enough to focus on during normal days.
Looking toward Hawkeye all he got was a pen shoved toward him. "It wouldn't have been so bad had you completed everything from the other day."
"Shouldn't I be taking it easy?" he growled and snatched the pen from her hand.
"Shouldn't you still be in the hospital?"
With his good hand, he roughly shifted through them, disrupting the nice, orderly stack that Hawkeye had made. He devilishly thought about mixing the pile up and seeing how long it would take her to reorganize it, but he did not have the energy.
And he hurt too much.
Sighing loudly, then regretting it, he winced and pressed his hand to the sling. He was beginning to regret his stubbornness. "Too bad it was my left arm and not my right," he said half-heartedly joking.
"That's not funny, sir," Hawkeye replied, the irritation in her voice was clear. He hated that particular shade of irritation. Half the time he had no clue what he had done to cause it.
Except this time, he was pretty certain he knew.
Brushing the thought off, he said sternly, "I want to see Hughes and the Elric brothers in my office now."
"Yes, sir," Hawkeye immediately answered before heading to the door.
Once she had stepped out, he reached under the sling and pressed a hand to his uniformed side. This definitely was not one of his brighter moments but at this point, he was not going to back down.
He could not.
A light rapping on the door that separated his office from the staff room drew his attention. Straightening, he pushed back the pain that he was positive had crept across his features. Hawkeye would not say anything about his misery, but he was sure it had already gone around the table three times thanks to Havoc.
He dully wondered what the stakes were in the office bet.
"Enter."
The door opened a crack, then a little farther. Three heads peeked in through an opening barely wide enough for their faces. Havoc, Breda and Falman looked in.
"Back to work so soon?" Breda asked, looking a little disappointed.
He must have lost the bet, Mustang thought.
Havoc rolled his eyes. "Are you sure you should be up and around so quick? You don't look to good."
Mustang shifted through the papers, irritated with the attention. "I am fine."
"If you say so, Chief," Havoc added before the door was pulled closed and the three jokers vanished.
"I am fine," he repeated to the empty office.
On the other side of the door Havoc flopped back in his chair all the while stealing a quick glance toward the door. Brightening, he looked at the other two men. "Pay up," came the cheerful demand as he slapped his hand down on the desk.
Breda and Falman dug through their pockets pulling out wadded bills.
"I wouldn't have thought it possible," Falman said sounding rather surprised.
"I would have given him another day," Breda grumbled as he slid 10,000 sen Havoc's way. "I hope you choke on it."
"Thank you, gentlemen, it was a pleasure doing business with you," Havoc said with a smile as he gathered up the money. "I'll use it well. I have a date tomorrow night."
Breda laughed. "Maybe we should take bets on how long it will take Havoc to lose this girl to the Colonel."
Havoc nearly swallowed his cigarette.
"Are you still seeing Eugenie?" Falman asked.
"Margaret," he replied with a huff, his good humor having slipped away. Eugenie had decided she just wanted to be friends since she was not ready to settle down with any one guy just yet.
The main door opened and Hawkeye walked in. She stopped and stared at the three men and the money on the table. "Office bets are rather inappropriate, don't you think?" she asked as she closed the door behind her.
Havoc laughed. "You're just sore you lost. Pay up."
Sighing, she approached where he was sitting and retrieved a couple of neatly folded sens from her pocket. She held the bills just out of his reach. Tapping her chin thoughtfully, she said, "I seem to remember you owing me 10,000 from the last bet. Something about whether Breda would—"
"Let's call it even," Havoc said quickly.
"Would Breda do what?" the thick waisted 2nd Lieutenant asked from the other end of the desks.
"Sounds good," Hawkeye said as she pocketed the money again.
"Oh, you're good," Falman whispered.
"Would I do what?" Breda asked again.
The tall Warrant Officer went on, "Couldn't you have threatened the Colonel into getting some rest?"
"The Colonel feels his place is here," she said diplomatically.
"And more so with every step up the political ladder," came Havoc's response. He pocketed the money he had been able to hold onto and glanced about. "Hey, where's Fury? He owes me too."
Exchanging glances and then looking to the empty desk Breda and Falman shrugged.
"Wasn't he at the hospital this morning?" the red haired man asked.
Thinking about it for a moment, and then shaking his head, Falman said, "No. I don't remember seeing him. He left about midnight last night. He looked like he would fall asleep where he was standing."
"I didn't see him this morning either," Hawkeye added.
"Maybe he's at the hospital, wondering where everyone is," Breda said as he stood up. "I'll go check."
"Yeah, that's probably it," Havoc replied but strangely felt a little uneasy. It was not like the little guy to go missing like that, especially not with a crazy woman and her henchmen bent on revenge on the loose.
Collateral Damage
"Wow, what did you do to hack her off?" Hughes asked as he entered the Colonel's office without bothering to knock.
"Rhodes—"
"I was talking about Lt. Hawkeye."
Mustang just glared at him.
Okay, so maybe that was not the best opening. He walked casually across the room, well as casually as possible with a couple dozen stitches in his thigh and sank to one of the chairs before the desk. "Actually, I was on my way over to the hospital."
"Or from it."
Roy was mad.
The smile slipped from Hughes' face. "You heard."
Slapping his right hand down on the desk and sending papers swirling in a flurry, Mustang was on his feet. "Did you think you were going to hide something like that from me?"
"Settle down," Hughes said motioning the other man to sit. "It wasn't that bad." Okay, maybe it was, but he certainly was not going to tell Roy that. No way. "Besides, Ed and Al—"
"Hughes."
Straightening in his seat, he shot his friend a sharp look. "This is Eastern, there aren't exactly a lot in the way of in house alchemists. You, Fullmetal and a couple of science and medical, who aren't exactly going to challenge Rhodes. You're out of commission and we've got slingshots at our disposal."
"It's not your place to decide—"
"They're in it, you and I both know that. As long as Ed thinks she has some information on the Philosopher's stone, then he's going to be in the thick of it. Besides," he paused. "I guess a woman and girl are missing that the boys' know. It seems Rhodes may be responsible."
"Kidnapping isn't her style," Mustang said.
Hughes watched silently as his friend struggled with the pain before forcing it behind a mask of cool even if telltale beads of sweat glistened on his brow. He wavered slightly, leaning heavily against his good hand that was planted firmly on the desk. "Sit down before you fall down, Roy."
From the anteroom door, Hawkeye stepped in. A look of quiet frustration lit her features. "Sir, the Elrics are on their way."
Mustang nodded then sank back to his chair, propping his chin up with his hand.
Hughes sighed and offered Hawkeye a glance. "Couldn't you have—"
"The Colonel will do as the Colonel will do," she said and left the room.
"You have broken her spirit." Trying to lighten the mood, Hughes continued, "You know I've come to the conclusion you would drive any sane woman mad."
"Hughes."
"It will make finding you a wife that much more—"
snap!
"Hey!" Hughes cried out as he ducked for cover. "Temper temper!"
Mustang pushed the paperwork roughly out of the way allowing the stack to topple and slide across his desk. He rubbed his forehead tiredly.
The humor Hughes had tried to inject slipped away. He quietly noted that his friend's color was off, way off and wondered how long before the injuries won out. "We're going to get her."
"She pops out of no where, attacks and injures my people. Kidnaps a mother and her child," the words drifted into silence for a moment. "And yet, you say it so confidently."
He caught the look that crossed Roy's face. What are you thinking? He inwardly wondered. "How else am I supposed to say it?"
"She won't give up."
"And neither will we."
The main door opened and Hawkeye appeared. "Ed and Al."
Behind her appeared the hulking figure of Alphonse Elric and a brief glint of red coat.
Smirking, Mustang, sounding like his old self, said, "I thought you said Ed and Al." He laughed. "I just see Al."
Instantly, Ed started screaming as the younger Elric struggled to hold on to the writhing, furious figure. "Brother," Al said.
"Who are you calling as small as a bug that can be squished underfoot!" Ed raged.
"Ed. Please, stop!"
The blond haired youth pulled away and stood there, heaving. "I have more important things to be doing than hanging around here."
"Yes, the woman and girl."
"Their names are Nara and Emma," Ed said sharply.
Unfazed, Mustang asked, "How do you know them?"
Hughes eyed his friend carefully.
"Nara works at Ed's favorite noodle stand in the market. Not too far from where they are doing all that construction," Al happily chirped. "Ed likes to go early to beat the crowds and see Nara."
Ed blushed. "You didn't have to tell him that," he whispered.
After shifting to face the brothers, Hughes adjusted his glasses slightly. "Down by the Remnant where that old temple is? That's where your first confrontation with Rhodes was?"
"Yeah," Ed said looking curiously back.
Folding her arms across her chest, Hawkeye shook her head slightly. "Did she take them because of Ed and Al or were they targets before that?"
"Nara would know the marketplace well," Hughes said but stopped at the sound of shuffling papers. He looked back toward the desk where Mustang was flipping through a stack of requests.
Oh damn.
"As a dog of the military," the Colonel began, pausing only long enough to eye Ed, "you are expected to do missions as requested." He picked up the train schedule, which was always close by and looked it over. Showing no emotion, he signed several sheets and slid it across his desk. Without word, Hawkeye quickly crossed the room and picked up the papers as he continued, "They are having issues with contaminated well water believed to be caused by the local mines. It is your job to inspect the—"
"No way!" Ed snapped. "You aren't sending me away!"
"Ed," Hughes said but the young man breezed passed him, storming up to Mustang's desk.
The furious youth pressed his hands to the desk. "What, you couldn't handle her so you think I can't?"
"Ed," Hawkeye said sternly.
"The train leaves in two hours for Rush City, then you'll just be a day's walk from Thesden. You will be on that train," Mustang said evenly, as if unaware of Ed's outburst.
"I'm not some sort of mindless dog that follows orders without question and destroys anyone who gets in the way of his promotion. I won't let Nara and Emma be hurt because of me. I'm not like you," he snarled.
Hawkeye roughly shoved the papers toward Ed. "Sir, your orders."
The papers went ignored as Ed glared at the Colonel. From the relative safety of the settee, Hughes watched as the two squared off.
"You have two hours, I suggest you start packing," Mustang said as he shifted through more paperwork. He did not meet Ed's fierce stare.
"I read the reports," Ed hissed. "Collateral damage. That's what they called all the women and children at Medes. Nara and Emma aren't collateral damage. You may be able to live with yourself, but I won't be responsible for even two people being hurt because of me." He turned sharply and stormed across the office. When he reached the door, he swung it violently open, sending it crashing against the wall.
Al caught it, stopping it from slamming shut so he could quickly follow. The younger boy's voice could be heard down the hall, "Ed! Ed!"
Still holding the orders, Hawkeye raced after them as Hughes just shook his head. "You're acting stupid again."
"Just see that they get on that train," Mustang growled.
•
"Edward, sir!" Hawkeye called out as she walked briskly down the corridor, crinkling the paper in a tight grip.
Al turned and looked at her, then called to Ed. "Brother, wait."
"What?" Ed fumed as he turned to see Hawkeye approaching. "Oh," he said, his shoulders slumping slightly as he sighed.
The Lieutenant quickly approached and handed him the orders, then promptly slapped him across the face. He howled, pressing a hand to the stinging flesh. Tears quickly reached his eyes.
Hawkeye stood straight at attention, though the hand at her side trembled. "Forgive me, sir, for overstepping the boundaries of my position." Then a little less formally, she said, "Do not speak so freely of events you do not have personal experience with, sir." With that, she turned sharply and started to walk away but hesitated when Ed spoke up.
"I'm sorry," he said softly.
Casualties of War
The Past
Pots clattered beyond the closed doors in the kitchen area. The canvas walls of the mess hall drew in, billowing like great lungs as violent gusts of wind ripped at the anchors. Hawkeye quietly listened to the distant howl, and wondered if the wind would blow all night, bemoaning its fate.
She glanced around, looking at the few quiet soldiers taking in a very late meal. They seemed oblivious to her and yet, she felt as if she were the center of attention. Brushing the thought off, she pressed her hands to her lap and tried to will the remaining tremble away. It would not look good to jostle hot tea out of the cup. It would say little for her as a sharpshooter if her hands were not steady days after a mission.
Looking across the smooth metal tabletop, she looked to the drink island off to the side. The smell of coffee, long on the burners, mingled with the remains of the last meal. From her vantage point, she could watch the Major prep two mugs of hot tea.
It felt awkward not doing her share and instead just sitting there, waiting for her drink to be delivered by a superior no less. A quick glance about the hall again and she wondered what fanciful rumors would be sparked by this seemingly awkward moment.
Maybe it was a mistake. If she excused herself now, perhaps…
Perhaps she was paranoid.
Looking at the Major, she saw only his back. His uniform, which she was certain had been blue at some point during the day was now entirely black. The darkness seemed to blend into his black hair leaving him looking like little more than a shadow.
Not all that different than after the explosion.
There was no blood this time though, just ash, the remains of buildings and people. He did not seem to be too stricken with that knowledge she silently noted.
Hawkeye really did not know what to make of this man. Before a few days ago, she thought him to be little different than that Kimbley who took great pleasure in blowing things up. They enjoyed their jobs, perhaps enjoyed the power.
Men like that frightened her.
She and so many others woke up in a cold sweat, the faces of those they had killed lingering in their dreams. She never regretted her actions; she did what she did for the Motherland. She did it to protect her comrades and to protect those she loved from the effects of an ever-growing war. But even the best did not relish their duties.
Except him, she thought, watching the Major approach. Tired from being worked without break but she had heard enough to know that he never questioned orders and always carried them out with ruthless efficiency.
Sometimes, the Ishbalans did not even know what was happening, they just glowed bright.
Setting a cup down in front of her, the Major then sank to the bench on the opposite side of the table. "Thank you," she said, offering a grateful smile as she drew the drink close. Under her fingers, against the white porcelain, she could feel ashy grit. "Not a fan of coffee?" she asked.
"It's always burned."
"Maybe a fresh pot—"
"Doesn't change the taste," he said before taking a sip of the steaming liquid. A frown pulled at his features and he set it down. "Even this tastes over done."
Hawkeye took a careful drink of the liquid, letting it linger before swallowing, but thought it tasted fine, a little stale, but not as bad as sometimes. "You must have just returned from the field. I'm surprised you aren't hungry."
Shrugging, he mumbled, "The food is burned."
True, the food was rather bad, but she never thought of it as burned. Taking another drink, she studied him over the rim of her cup. Dark shadows and ash bled together across his eyes. "I see," she said, unsure of how else to respond. Glancing at the serving line where several soldiers, exhausted from a long day were getting their trays filled. From the distance, all seemed well. The only charred smell she picked up was coming off the Major.
Suddenly, he laughed as he set his cup down. A playful glimmer briefly danced in his dark eyes. "Here I invited you for tea and I'm not being very entertaining."
The whole scenario felt awkward. Hawkeye half expected to wake from a dream at any moment. "It's not that important. Really, you're just back from the field. I've had a relatively leisurely day with temporary leave. I slept in, spent time reading old letters from home and then visited with Jean."
"Shot in the shoulder, right?" he said, sounding very aware.
"Yes."
Mustang put the drink down but did not meet her gaze. "How's he doing?"
This man, whom on the surface, she feared had also seemed very contrary to the stories she had heard. After they had all returned from Medes, he had come and checked on each survivor. Men who had never served under him, save for that one day, he made sure were taken care of.
"According to Dr. Rockbell with some rest and therapy, he should recover completely." She smiled, happy the wound that had looked so terrible in the dust-ridden air of Medes was not as bad as it could have been. "They're shipping him out soon, back to Central."
"That's good."
"He says thank you."
Mustang stared quietly at his drink as if he had not heard her.
After a moment, Hawkeye's stare fell to the soot covered gloves that he still wore. She could see the alchemic array stitched into the cloth, though now it was the same color as everything else. Every part of her wanted to ask why he did not rush to clean himself up but she kept the thought imprisoned behind still lips.
"It doesn't really wash away," he said softly as if reading her thoughts. "Well, at least not under the surface. He held a hand out and stared at his open palm. "There's as much on the inside of me as there is on the outside." He smiled. "A sense of balance, in a sick sort of way."
Hawkeye said nothing.
"It is in my clothes and ingrained in my skin. My senses are so clogged that I'll never smell or taste anything but ash again." He drew his hand into a trembling fist. "My lungs are full of smoke and soot. I cannot cough hard enough to get it all out."
He looked so very weary.
"Then why do you do it?" she asked.
Closing his eyes, he shrugged again, his shoulders seeming to slump more than before. "I ask myself that everyday. I swear that I will refuse and walk away but I never do." He eyed her. "You are a shooter, why do you do it?"
"To serve my country."
A smile. "Another idealistic fool drawn into the military machine."
"There are worse fates."
Mustang just looked at her, but she saw only emptiness in his gaze. He raised the cup to his lips but paused and set it back down. "And yet, at this moment, I can't think of any." He sighed heavily, and then coughed, a hand muffling the sound.
Rising from his seat, he tipped his chin toward her. "Maybe next time, I'll be more entertaining. Good night, Sergeant."