Sorry for the slow update, once again! Thanks for reviewing, everyone, I'm glad there's people enjoying my fic! Please do read on!
Chapter Seven
This was all just a bad dream. It had to be.
Around that time, Riza and her comrades were stuffed in a military van, headed for the east. She sighed, and turned to look out the window, her chin propped up on her hand. She tried to ignore Breda's elbow digging into her ribs. It didn't make much difference, anyway... Riza was so tired, and she was constantly thinking about the Colonel. For some reason, although it should have been the opposite, life without Roy was so... draining. Riza firmly believed that he was alive. She would have felt it if he wasn't. Or was that just another thing she was trying to tell herself?
Lieutenant Colonel Jones made Riza ache for Mustang even more. It was the same foir Breda, Havoc and Falman. Jones was a young man, no more than thirty, just like Roy. Only, he couldn't have been more different. He was, simply put, a lazy bastard. Jones ordered around his new subordinates like dogs, forcing them to tend to his every whim, while he did nothing but drink, gamble, and nap. He had no concern for his men or his country. Riza could tell that this was someone who'd bought his way up the ranks - he had no skill at all. He was a gullible fool. It wasn't necessarily a bad thing.
Riza was glad her little scheme to get to East City had worked. It was where Roy Mustang was last seen, in a cafe. Riza had convinced Jones that by catching Mustang, he'd be able to earn himself a huge promotion - and the reward money. At first he was supicious of the notion of having his new subordinate hunt for the man she had worked for previously. He knew how loyal she had been to her Colonel. But in the end, the thought of the huge sum of money waiting to be claimed overrode his common sense. The idiot. Mustang was so much more intelligent... Riza glared behind her, where Jones was riding in his cosey private car.
"Get your foot off of mine. Please." Havoc, not in a good mood, growled to Falman.
"I can't. I'm as stuck as you are."
"Goddamn shit." Came the reply. "At least Colonel Mustang let us ride in two cars instead of one... This is ridiculous."
Which was true. But it made Riza angry. She didn't want to be continuously reminded of Roy. "Watch your language, Second Lieutenant. And didn't Lieutenant Colonel Jones tell you that Roy Mustang is no longer a Colonel and your commanding officer?" Her voice and words were sharp. Havoc and the others fell silent.
It was ironic. Riza was telling them something she herself didn't believe. She felt like a total fool.
"Lieutenant..." It was Breda speaking this time.
"What?" She tried not to show what she was thinking.
Breda said softly, unlike his usual self, "you don't mean that, do you?"
Riza's eyes were downcast. At last, she replied, lifting her gaze to meet his, "You know we'll always be the subordinates of Colonel Mustang - not of that imbecile Jones."
He grinned widely. "Now you're talking, Lieutenant."
They began their long, tiring search for Mustang without informing Jones where they were beginning. Riza went with Havoc; Breda with Falman. Riza, in her place as temporary commander, couldn't help but wish Fuery was well enough to help with their operation. Some radios would have been useful. Unfortunately the doctors had kept him from coming with them. Riza had never seen Fuery in such a black mood.
Riza and Havoc had no luck so far. At the cafe where Mustang had supposedly made his appearence, they'd questioned the owner of the shop. What he knew was disappointing. But he gave them a crucial piece of information - a customer of his, a young woman called Jane Krowehill, had seen, no talked, to Roy. When Riza and Havoc visited her apartment, she wasn't home. Krowehill's neighbour, a kindly old lady, told them that she was at work. She couldn't tell them where.
With no other choice, they'd looked through every single street and alley they went past, interviewing passerbyers every once in a while. No one had seen any person that looked even moderately Xingese. Riza figured Roy was staying low, for she knew not many people looked like him, at least not in this country. He'd stand out if he walked around among blonde and brown-headed people during broad daylight. His black hair would be like a homing beacon. It was another thing Riza missed seeing...
It had gotten dark already. Havoc said that he was hungry; Riza had to admit she was too. Reluctantly she agreed to go for a meal at Havoc's favourite Italian restaurant. Just as they were about to go into the shop, Riza heard the high-pitched scream of a woman.
"Thief! He took my purse!"
Riza's head turned at the noise. Her sense of justice took over her. She absolutely despised thieves - scumbags who stole from others instead of working hard to earn for themselves. She wasn't going to let this one get away. Grabbing Havoc's arm, despite his muffled protest, she ran towards the commotion. It ended up that she didn't have to. The criminal was heading their way. Riza's well-trained eyes spotted the figure, cleverly clad in dark clothes and a brimmed hat, running for his life in the shadows cast by buildings. Obviously he was going to use the nearby alley as an escape route. It seemed as though he was planning to just push Riza and Havoc out of the way. Probably they looked like any other content couple out for a walk on this fine evening. We'll see about that, you bastard, thought Riza. At the last possible moment, to avoid any chance of him bolting the other way, she whipped out her pistol, and fired.
The gunshot shattered the peaceful evening. People screamed. Riza had gone for the legs, and as always, her aim was true. By the light of the streetlamps, Riza saw blood fly through the air. She was surprised to see the man stumble but not fall. He hadn't even made a sound. Instead, he pivoted on his good leg, turning to face Riza and Havoc. And then, he put his hand to the ground - it was gloved - but it wasn't for support, as Riza immediately assumed. To her shock and astonishment, there was a loud crackling, and suddenly, the cobbled stones at her feet came exploding up, sending dust and stinging pebbles flying everywhere. As Riza leapt for safety, hearing Havoc yell, one thought made its way into her head.
Alchemy?
The man was about to run again. Oh, no, you don't. Riza rolled towards him and came up on a knee, her gun steady. She had it trained right at his face. It was then she realized he was aiming for her, as well. It wasn't with a firearm but with... a gloved hand. It was the opposite of the one he'd used earlier, the left side. Riza recognized the position of the fingers and the red transmutation circle drawn on the back of the hand. It was a hand that was preparing to snap. Cold dread began to clench at Riza's stomach. She'd known that jawline under the shadow cast by the hat had looked familiar. She'd known...
Riza fired the gun, blowing the hat right off the man's head.
She found herself staring into the dark eyes of Roy Mustang - they looked equally horrified as her own brown ones.
Before either of them could make a move, Riza heard Havoc shout. Roy's head snapped around, just as Havoc's fist came flying and smashed into the side of his face. Riza cried out, but it was too late - a split second later, Roy was lying on the ground before her, out cold, a bruise presumably already forming on his face. Havoc, she knew, was a strong man.
"Did I get him?" He panted, rubbing his knuckles. "I did hit him pretty hard. But what was that all about? Alchemy?"
"Of course he uses alchemy," Riza whispered, although she could find no explanation for his obvious use of destructive alchemy. "it's Colonel Mustang."
"What?" Havoc's eyes widened. He bent down to peer at Roy's unconscious form. An exclamation of surprise escaped his mouth a moment later. He turned to Riza, visibly amazed. "I-I just punched the Colonel?" He looked at his hands. "He's gonna kill me."
It was the last thing Riza was thinking about. Her mind was reeling. So was everything she had heard so far true? Why else would Roy be pickpocketing? She opened up Roy's coat; inside, as she'd suspected, was a woman's purse. No. Feverishly, remembering what was written on the wanted poster, Riza reached for Roy's right hand. It was covered in the familiar alchemic glove. She peeled it off, and saw that indeed, the hand had only four fingers.
Horror made her throat close over. She couldn't breathe. She couldn't think. So this Roy was the same as the one in the posters. Riza had hoped that some genius criminal had been posing as Roy Mustang, using the name to have him hunted... But now that she thought about it, wasn't that a pointless thing to do? Who would want Roy to be falsely marked as a thief and arsonist? Why would anyone go through all that trouble? As far as Riza knew Roy didn't have such enemies. It didn't make sense. And where had Roy lost that finger? Riza felt sick. She saw that the scarring was bad, which meant he hadn't gotten proper care from a hospital until it had healed completely... Her thoughts began to wander hopelessly, continuing to do so until she managed to get ahold of herself.
The conclusion was that it was really him.
"So what now, Lieutenant?" Havoc said quietly, placing a hand on her shoulder, obviously sensing her shaking.
She really didn't know how to answer him.
This was all just a bad dream. It had to be.
Or so Roy was telling himself when he found himself in a soft bed. He hadn't slept in such a comfortable bed in months. Which made him wonder where he was. A hotel? No. He'd just signed out of one. His apartment? No! He'd vowed never to return, for it was a surefire way to get the police on his tail again. He found that his head was hurting. He couldn't think clearly. He didn't feel all that well. Roy managed to lift his upper body from the mattress, and took a glance around the room, looking for potential dangers. He found none. It was then he saw the bedside table. There were several things on it - the first thing Roy noticed was his dark coat, obviously cleaned, ironed, and neatly folded up. A dull fear began to rise in his chest. And then, beside it were his alchemic gloves, also nicely placed on the wooden surface. Then, lastly, there was a photograph in a frame. His heart thumping, Mustang leaned towards it to see it better. He uttered a soft gasp. It was a photo of his squad, his old squad. He was standing in the middle, with Riza by his side; Breda, Havoc, Fuery and Falman, as well as Black Hayate, were also in the photo.
It was then he noticed Black Hayate, the real Black Hayate, smiling up at him from the floor. The dog gave a short yap.
It took everything for Roy to hold back a scream. He swung his legs over the side of the bed, snatched his coat and gloves from the table, and made a lunge for the door. There was a searing pain in his left leg; it almost gave way, but panic and desperation fueled him. For a moment Mustang fumbled with the doorknob; finally he got the thing open and he stumbled out into a hallway, a terribly familiar hallway. He knew it because he'd been here before. He knew it because it was Riza Hawkeye's house.
At once memories from his most recent and failed theft came rushing back to him. He remembered making a run for it with the purse, then getting shot at by a perfectly ordinary looking woman, a blonde woman... Seeing the woman's face... Her seeing his face... A man, presumably Havoc, by the sound of his voice, punching him in the face... Darkness...
What the hell was this? What the hell was this?
Mustang limped through the hall, teeth clenched from pain, sweat streaming down his face and neck, blood roaring in his ears. He was barely watching where he was going. Stupid of him. He hadn't gone far when he crashed into someone, bringing both of them down to the floor. He could only manage a strangled yell. There was also a cry of a woman.
When Roy blinked and untangled himself from the other person, he truly felt like fainting.
Riza. Riza Hawkeye.
TBC! Reviews, anyone?
