A/N: Here's hoping that everyone has made it through the holidays, and transitioned safely into the New Year! School's about to start back up, but updates for this and Snap Shots shall continue to come, never fear. I'm sorry, guys — this one's not Royza, but it's something just as sweet. You'll see.

I do not own FMA.

What These Eyes Have Seen

That old nickname, 'The Hawk's Eye,' seemed pointless now. The pun was no longer amusing when the hawk was under the eye of an eagle. And on this tour of the Southern Headquarters, Riza was being kept under a very close eye indeed.

It seemed that even as she stood behind the chair occupied by Führer-President King Bradley, he was watching her. For all she knew, maybe he was. Some reflection from across the room? Pride watching from some tiny shadow in a corner? Bradley was a Homonculus: maybe he even had some secret eye in the back of his head. Nothing like that would surprise her at this point.

The only time she left his side now was at night, when he retired for the evening. She knew he was only keeping her nearby because Fuery was somewhere in the vicinity; what she wouldn't give to see the young man, even for five minutes. But that wouldn't be allowed, not when it meant the two of them could be plotting something.

Instead, she was standing here, as she had been for the past three hours, looking on as some general politely talked shop with Bradley, going on about this issue or that little problem. Nothing that required the Führer's attention, to be sure, and all of it was completely under control.

Obviously not, she thought to herself, or else you wouldn't be complaining about it in the first place.

She was careful to keep her irritation with the pudgy general off her face, lest her expression betray her. That was something she certainly didn't need right now . . . and she wasn't sure that if he challenged her, she wouldn't shoot him. Regarding him calmly, watching his meaty lips flapping as he talked, she tried to remember his name. It wasn't often that she couldn't think of someone she'd met face to face, but then again, perhaps this man was worth forgetting.

"Then there were the skirmishes we recently wrapped up on the border; we pushed Aerugo back from our trenches with ease, though we lost a few." The general sat back in his chair. "Fortunes of war, I suppose. Or as your alchemists say, equivalent exchange. We keep our land, at the cost of a few of our men."

Riza took care to avert her eyes just then. It never failed to disgust her how casually those in the higher ranks could cast aside those beneath them. Rungs on a ladder to be climbed, stepping stones across a river, or a bridge across a canyon that burned at a moment's notice: that's all they were to some of the top brass. Sickening . . . .

What was an appropriate term to call this excuse for a man . . . . Absently, she wished for Falman and his mental thesaurus, and immediately after pictured the bewildered look that would be on his face were he asked for such disrespectful terms as she wanted to use. 'Scum' wasn't strong enough. 'Bastard' was getting close, but it was used all too often to describe someone she was rather fond of, and she had no desire to associate the two. 'Asshole' would have to do.

She shook herself out of her thoughts as she abruptly realized that General Asshole was getting up to leave. Good — this little ordeal was finally over, then.

"And actually, Your Excellency . . . ." General Asshole paused, his beady little eyes shifting in her direction, "I was wondering if I might borrow your lovely assistant for just a few moments. The box of reports you requested needs to be delivered from the archives immediately, and I understand she has plenty of experience with the administration system. It would certainly help the process move faster."

Bradley nodded almost casually. "Of course; I'm sure she'd be only too happy to assist you." He turned his head, looking back at her over his right shoulder. "Wouldn't you, Lieutenant?"

She forced herself to meet that stare, reflexively stiffening her spine to prevent a telltale shiver. "Yes, sir."

"Right through here, Lieutenant."

Keeping a polite silence, Riza tried to ignore the general's hand on her back as he guided her through the door of the archives room. He probably considered it a gentlemanly gesture, even suave . . . except for the fact that, surreptitiously, his hand inched lower.

Thankfully, she was able to casually pull away as soon as she was through the door. "You'll find the box the Führer is expecting at the end of the third row. I'd help you myself, but . . ." He smiled blandly. "I'm afraid there are other matters that require my attention."

"Of course, sir." Just admit you don't want to get your uniform dusty. "I'm sure I can find it easily."

"Yes, I'm sure you can. And I'm sure I'll be seeing you again before you leave." Riza didn't blink as his eyes flicked down then swiftly back up. General Asshole nodded politely, then turned. "Lieutenant," he said briskly, by way of farewell.

Out of duty, she saluted his back, then turned toward the shelves he'd indicated, allowing her lip to twist in distaste. I thought I'd realized how callous people can be in regard to the lives of others, she thought, moving between the walls of labelled boxes. I guess I was wrong.

A box marked with a red square of paper folded over the edge caught her attention; a quick glance at the label confirmed it was the one she was looking for. Pulling it partway off the shelf, Riza paused. It was at least ninety-nine percent certain that, because Bradley had agreed to let her retrieve the box, whatever it contained was mundane things with nothing at all do with the Promised Day. Safe things, that it didn't matter whether she saw them or not.

On the other hand, there was that minuscule one percent chance that her enemies, thinking she would believe there was nothing particularly interesting about this box, had included important information within it. A chance like that, no matter how tiny, had to be investigated, even if the percentage of likelihood was point zero-zero-zero-one to the tenth power.

Roy would call her paranoid. Riza called herself thorough.

There was nothing sealing the box shut against prying eyes, and only an assortment of folders within. Riza tsked mentally, and pulled the box the rest of the way off the shelf, setting it on the floor. Kneeling beside it, she set about putting them in some sort of order. Just because it was another base's property didn't mean it could be left like this; not when it was being presented to the Führer, and not when it was going past her first.

So Roy is going to reform the country, and I'm going to reform the military administration system so that it all makes sense, she thought acidly. Honestly, you'd think they all grew up in barnyards, the way they —

". . . Lieutenant?!"

Her head came up sharply at the sound of a surprised voice nearby. Standing at the end of the row of shelves, bandaged in several places and smudged with dirt in several more, was a tired-looking, disbelieving Kain Fuery.

Riza blinked her own shock away from her expression. ". . . Master Sergeant." She got to her feet. "I can't say I was expecting to see you down here."

"M-Me neither, ma'am." Glancing quickly over his shoulder, Fuery hurried forward along the row. "I only came down here to get the personnel file of a friend of mine . . . ." Stopping just the other side of the box sitting on the floor, he came swiftly to attention, his right arm rising in salute as he gave a tentative smile.. "It's good to see you."

She allowed herself a smile in return. "Same to you. At ease." Brown eyes followed the stiff movement of his shoulders as his arm lowered to his side. "I have to say, Master Sergeant, you're looking a little worse for wear. They can't be working you that hard, can they?"

The young man looked away, cheeks colouring a little. "Harder than you'd expect, ma'am. But I think I understand now why you and the Colonel never talked about the time before I knew you." His eyes shifted back to her. "You know . . . when you were in the warzone."

Something icy cold and ironlike clenched itself around her heart, setting off an ache that spread through her entire chest. For a long moment, Riza stood speechless. Fuery — innocent, honest, shy Fuery — had been sent to one of the warzones? The obvious conflict was the one with Aerugo, there had been reports on that just two weeks ago, but to think that Fuery had been there . . . .

"That's . . . not an easy thing to understand," she said at last. "I'm glad to see you made it back in one piece."

"Yeah . . . ." His gaze went to the floor as he bit his lower lip. "Thanks."

They could be under surveillance at this moment, she knew. As it was, she only had a limited window of time before someone came looking for her, though that wouldn't be for about ten minutes yet. Fuery had become some sort of younger brother to her over the years they had worked together; to know that he was feeling the same kind of pain that nearly tore her apart on humid nights . . . .

Fuery shifted guiltily. "I'm sorry, ma'am; I didn't mean to go off on a tangent like that. First time I see a familiar face in weeks, and I start talking about —"

"It's fine," she said quietly, though the firm tone in her voice cut him off. Regulations be damned. Stepping around the box, she put her arms around the dark-haired young man and hugged him gently. "As I said, it's not an easy thing to understand. But I know exactly how you feel."

For a long moment, Fuery stood stock-still as though afraid to move. Riza waited. She had held everything in when she left Ishval, and it had only helped make her the way she was. She didn't want that to happen to Fuery: he deserved to smile. For now, though, he simply returned the hug, buried his face in her shoulder, and tried not cry too loudly.

For every review, Fuery gets another hug. You don't want to deny Fuery hugs, do you? He's so freaking adorkable.