Chapter Twelve – The Red
A/N – This chapter is sad. Please just keep in mind that though there are many glaring continuity errors, my original intention was always to try to fit it into the story arc of the series, somewhat.
Roy decided he could get used to waking up beside Riza. Under better circumstances.
Hawkeye woke when he did, but she seemed rather disgruntled and non-responsive. Her toffee eyes were bleary. She could barely keep them open, so he extricated himself from the couch and let her go back to sleep. He couldn't blame her. Last night had been a hellish nightmare, and it had put many things into perspective. He had some things to do, but first he needed to shower and change his clothes.
He left her curled on the couch. One last glance at her steeled his resolve. There would be no more nights like the last one. The image of the gun pressed to her temple was still burned into his mind, and he would have no peace until he was certain such a thing would never happen again.
He went home long enough to take care of the necessities and look up an address in the military database. Then he paid the general a house call.
Hakuro lived in the wealthy section on the outskirts of the city. It was easy enough to find. The neighborhood was quiet. The large, redolent houses were protected by high iron gates and brown snarls of what would be hedges in the summer. The new snowfall on every lawn was practically undisturbed. It glittered painfully bright beneath the crisp blueness of a clear winter sky. Roy had to shade his eyes to read the house numbers on the gates.
His gloves were in his pocket, but they were probably useless with the moisture all around. The pistol at his side slapped against his hip with every step.
A child's shout carried on the wind. "Daddy, watch me!"
He followed the sound to its source. Sure enough, the numbers on the house he came to signified it as the one he had been looking for. It was a square brick affair with a nice expanse of lawn. Two children, a girl and a boy, were playing in the large snow drifts that had climbed up against the side of the garage. A man sitting in the snow with them smiled indulgently and turned to watch whatever feat they were about to perform. It was General Hakuro.
The boy was the one who had called out. He held his arms out at his side as he ran and took a flying leap into the largest drift. The girl was watching her brother with wide-eyed interest. When he completely disappeared into the snow, she scampered over to see what had become of him, but she didn't have to wait long. He emerged, grinning and bounding out of the drift, and Hakuro clapped appreciatively.
The girl was the one who saw Roy standing by the gate first. She solemnly ran over to her father, latched parasitically onto his arm, and peered shyly at him from over her father's shoulder. Hakuro turned to see what she was looking at. His face darkened.
"Daddy, who is that?" the girl demanded.
"Just someone from my work, Honey." He patted her head and extricated himself from her grasp. "And I'm afraid I'm going to have to talk to him. Why don't you and your brother go inside and see if mommy has cocoa ready yet?"
The girl gave Roy a look that clearly conveyed her disapproval, but she was not averse to the prospect of cocoa. She had something of her father's stern chin, but the rest of her features favored her mother, which in Roy's opinion was quite fortunate for the child. This child of Hakuro's was her own person, entirely separate and distinct from the parents who had produced her. She would never doubt her father's love and acknowledgement.
Would Riza's child look like her? The exact slant and shade of her eyes could never be replicated, but perhaps a son or daughter would be remarkably close. Would her child's eyes, so familiar and yet so strange, sparkle at the mention of cocoa? What would the voice sound like? Would the little hands clasp protectively around Riza's arms?
"I call the snowflake cup," she sang out before dashing for the house.
"Evie no!" The boy leapt after her. "That's my cup! Mom won't let you use it!"
The General watched them race each other to the door, both slightly encumbered by their bulky winter clothes, but both bound and determined to claim the prize. The older man could not completely mask his lopsided grin of fondness, even while he kept a wary eye on the Colonel. Roy understood all too well that he was the intruder now. He was the one Hakuro's children were being sent away from. Him and his incriminations. Hakuro's solid stance in front of his house was unmistakably defensive. Whatever messy accusations he might make had no place inside.
The last traces of the General's grin dissolved. He made his way slowly down the drive, as if he had all the time in the world. He glanced back once to make sure his children had gone inside before strolling up to the gate. He made no move to open the lock.
He peered through the wrought iron bars at the man on the other side. "So, Colonel Mustang, it has come to this."
Roy braced himself against a nipping gust of cold air. "It has come to this."
"What do you think you are going to do?" Hakuro crossed his arms and scuffed a boot against the slush-slicked path. "Have you come for revenge? To kill me perhaps?"
Oh how he wished it were that simple. What could he do? All he ever wanted was to protect Hawkeye, but he would endanger her more if he handled this situation badly. His lieutenant had made it quite plain that this was her battle, and if she did not wish it, he had no right to fight for her. But she seemed content to let last night's confrontation blow over, and he simply had to do something. If he let Hakuro walk away, they could never turn their backs on him.
"Threaten her again, and I will." He managed to make his voice sound more controlled than he felt. "I don't think I could stop myself."
Hakuro tried to look unperturbed, but there was a subtle shift in his manner. It was as if this deathly serious threat had finally made him consider the potential of the man standing before him. He had never given much thought to Roy Mustang besides occasional annoyance. Colonel Mustang was just an annoyingly privileged boy being spoon-fed promotions. The undeserving object of Riza's adoration. He had thought that was all, but somehow over the years, the meaningless obstruction standing between him and his goals had become a formidable adversary. One who was willing to kill to guard that which was most precious to him.
He contemplated him for a long moment. "You really love that girl don't you, Mustang?"
Roy said nothing. Hakuro took that as answer enough.
"I'm sorry for you," he said softly. "She is quite an Achilles heel."
Roy frowned. "You had absolutely no right to do what you did."
"You're right. I didn't," Hakuro admitted. "Probably doesn't make any difference to you, but I really never wanted to hurt her. Can't say I ever cared about hurting you, but Riza . . . I didn't want that."
Roy's icy expression didn't change. He wanted the gate open so he could seize Hakuro's throat. The general seemed to sense this because he made no move to pull back the barrier.
"You don't have to believe me, but I just wanted to tell you. I know you know about Ishbal, and I know what you think. Part of it's true. I wanted her." Hakuro paused, looked at him, and continued on hastily. "I wanted her against all my better judgment. Against integrity and reason. Surely you of all people can understand my obsession."
Roy snarled. "I could never understand forcing someone to—"
"I never forced her in Ishbal," Hakuro almost smirked. "And I can see by your expression that she has probably told you the same thing. I know that's something you don't want to accept, but you were blind to her in Ishbal. I knew she was in love with you from the start, and I also knew you had no idea."
Roy looked like he wanted to deny this, but he remained silent.
"She was a broken little thing. Her father had just died, you had gone away from her, and despite her efforts to follow you, she was still alone and desperate for solace. I may have taken advantage of the situation, but I was more than a little infatuated myself. I never wanted you to have her. I still don't. I think I've proven that I don't deserve her, but you don't either. I wanted her to forget you, but she stubbornly held to her inexplicable devotion." His expression was far away, remembering. "You can't imagine the jealousy . . . Sometimes she'd have this look in her eyes, and I would know exactly where her thoughts were."
"But all that is just history now. The war ended. Real life intruded, as it often does. I had a wife and soon I had children to look after. You took her away. It was all just as well. I've taken great strides to get over her, but things always have a way of becoming more complicated than that." Hakuro sighed and gave him an indefinable look, as if he knew a great deal more than Roy thought he knew. "She's not going to testify against me. You wouldn't be here if she was."
Anger made Roy's fingers twitch uselessly. Damn him. There was no point in arguing that one. "She wants to keep the child."
"I gathered as much," Hakuro said dryly.
"You are going to swear to me that you will never try to harm either of them," Roy hissed. "I'm not afraid to end your life if you ever hurt her again."
"Fine. Just call off Grumman's snoops." Hakuro said. "You know and I know that I could make your lives very difficult if his stupid investigation continues. Especially after that bit of fraternization at the ball. If information happens to slip, you will most certainly be separated. Your impressive track record and good standing might save you, but as your underling, she could be suspended. And then there's that beautiful fire sigil on her back . . ."
Roy glared at him. "That is blackmail."
"Yeah, sort of, but I think it could work out well for both of us. Leave me alone, and I will leave you alone." Hakuro smiled transparently. "I think we coexist so much better when we ignore each other, don't you?"
Roy recognized that Hakuro was shedding culpability, and it was coming off easily as an itchy set of clothing. He wanted him to be held accountable, but there was little he could do without starting a bloody battle. He would have relished a good fistfight, but Hakuro would not play fair.
He barely had time to think about his reputation these days. He'd done countless things in this month alone that were bound to cost him, but they were nothing compared to how completely a powerful general like Hakuro could ruin him. He wasn't naïve enough to think otherwise, and he didn't fancy starting his military career all over again. Especially after he'd come so far. But that was not to say that he wouldn't if Hakuro endangered Hawkeye again. If it came to saving her life, he'd take her and run. And heaven help anyone who tried to stop him.
"Just leave her alone," he growled through clenched teeth. "And I will think about talking to Grumman."
Hakuro's smile widened. "I'm glad we understand each other, Colonel."
First Lieutenant Riza Hawkeye started her day in pain. Feet, head, stomach, nerves. Her entire body was wrecked.
The Colonel left early, which was just as well, because she didn't want him to see her in such a state. And she was in no mood to discuss what needed to be discussed. He didn't say where he was going. She didn't say that she felt like she'd eaten a family of angry wild animals, and they were all trying to escape. Neither of them wanted to worry the other unnecessarily.
What she needed was to work. The mindless repetition of her daily routine was therapeutic.
She tried to bind up her frayed emotions on the range. The range had always been effective in the past. Everyone around her seemed to sense her intensity and gave her a wide berth. There was no one to talk to, not that she wanted anyone. She did not regret her propensity for isolation. She'd spent all morning clutching the toilet and retching on an empty stomach because of one little yet-to-be-born baby, and that was company enough. The two of them could be alone together.
Her stomach hurt. She hadn't been able to force down anything since her early dinner yesterday, and combined with the morning's bout of nausea she felt more than a little ill. Sometimes her head seemed swollen, and other times, the world around her appeared to float away. Only the lurid bull's-eye and the smell of her gun were distinct. From further down the range she saw her friend Rebecca wave tentatively. She tried to smile and wave back.
The pain was starting to burn now. She hesitated and clenched her teeth together. The spot just beneath her navel was on fire and spreading flaming tentacles outward. Bright oil spots of color bloomed in her vision. She had time to puzzle over this new development, and then all sense of coherency fled. She doubled over clutching her stomach, letting her rifle fall to the ground. Rebecca raced to her side.
"Riza?" She sounded panicked. "Riza, what's going on?"
She couldn't speak. Somewhere behind the pain she knew what was wrong. Perhaps she had known since that morning when the sickness had been worse than usual. In that moment she felt as if she had always known what she would lose just when she wanted it most. She'd spent a lifetime knowing and the anguish was an exquisite new ache. She didn't need to see the spreading red evidence. She clung desperately to doubt.
It was only the sharp darts of pain that forced the tears from the corners of her eyes, not loss. Loss could not happen. Just thinking such a thing was bad. Bad. Bad. Bad. Her joints felt wiggly and disconnected. The ground rushed up to kiss her palms, her elbows, knees, and forehead. A sting like a whip cracking on the inside. Voices.
"Somebody get some help!" Rebecca was shouting. Had been shouting. Everything was blurry. Time stopped.
She fought her way back to consciousness.
When she woke, nothing was familiar, but she wasn't surprised to find him there. He reached out to grasp her fingers. She couldn't feel the touch.
After a few moments she recognized the white walls and fresh linen smell of the military hospital. She'd never had a reason to set foot in the building until now. She appeared to be lying on a tiny bed in a tiny room. Piercing rays of evening sun were lancing through a window. It hadn't even been a whole day.
The colonel's eyes were bright, anxious and heavy with what she already knew. "How do you feel?"
"It's gone isn't it?" she asked flatly.
His expression told her everything. "I'm sorry Riza."
She rolled over and stared listlessly at the wall. Her body had betrayed her. It had performed every demanding physical task she had ever asked of it, but this most natural and important of tasks could not be carried out. She didn't want him there. She didn't want anything.
Roy opened his mouth, reached out a hand, and then thought better of it. He could think of absolutely nothing to say. The room lapsed into another uneasy silence.
Roy sat beside her bed for a long time, but neither of them spoke. Hawkeye remained resolutely facing the wall, holding her shoulders very tense. At last he heard the deep, even sound of her sleeping. He watched the hypnotic rhythm of her breathing, and decided there was nothing more to be done. Her body needed the rest, and she didn't want to talk to him. He was almost glad. He wasn't sure what he would say.
Night fell, and he brooded as he watched her sleep. Of all the scenarios he had envisioned, this was one that he had never imagined. She'd lost the child. In a demented twist of fate, the entire pregnancy was now ridiculously easy to cover up. Only Rebecca saw her collapse, and she hadn't asked any questions. In a few days it wouldn't matter to anyone else.
It had never mattered more to him. He had wanted her not pregnant, but not like this. Never like this. He would have given up his reputation, his career, everything he had been scared of losing just to reverse the tragedy. He raked his hands through his hair. He couldn't forget the only words she had said when she regained consciousness, and the way she had said them. The memory pounded through his brain in an endless loop.
And she had barely looked at him.
At last, he pushed out his chair, and left.
She dreamed of that sharp pain in her abdomen. The horrible despair of knowing . . .
She dreamt of The Red. She hadn't seen it, but she had felt it. Red was a sticky color, worse than what had happened to her in Hakuro's office. That sort of thing had happened to her before. She had the stoicism to endure the indignity. She could deal with almost anything. This left her shattered.
The dreams went on. Hakuro stepped in, forced pills into her mouth as he caressed her face.
"Oh Riza, my sweetheart," he was saying pityingly. "You know you didn't want this."
But I did. She tried to open her mouth to speak, but then she wasn't facing Hakuro anymore. The Colonel stood across from her, beautiful and dark, with eyes full of self-mockery. He was looking at her with concern. And then she realized she was holding the glass that she had held on the night when she kissed him. Alcohol.
"You poisoned it," the Colonel murmured sadly.
"No," she whispered and shook her head. No, it couldn't be that.
"I'm only saying what you are thinking, Darling." The Colonel became her grandfather with accusing eyes. "How could you be so irresponsible?"
"No, No, Grandpa please . . ." But her words gurgled out.
Her throat was bleeding. The red was in her mouth, and nobody was there anyway. They'd all left her, even the tiny one inside her. She was hollowed out, and fading . . .
. . .
"Hummingbirds, Riza, look how beautiful they are."
Maes found his friend in his office the next day. He didn't look good. In fact, he looked like he was convalescing from some sort of disease. One that had removed the color from his face and hollowed out his cheeks. Roy had definitely been getting thinner. Now it looked like he wasn't sleeping either. He was hunched over his desk staring at a form in front of him, but he appeared to be lost in thought.
He shut the door behind him and strode nonchalantly up to the desk. "What's going on?"
Roy looked up and gave him a nonplussed look. "Well I was going to fill out these forms, but then you came in and blocked my light."
It was very good. If Maes didn't know his friend better, he might have been fooled by the almost effortless façade he put up.
"Please don't pull that crap with me." He put his hands on the desk and glared. "I meant what's going on with your Lieutenant."
He watched Roy smother a scowl. "She has a few days of leave. I thought it would be best to give her some time."
He sighed. "I was afraid of that."
"What? Why?" Now Roy looked genuinely puzzled. "What's that supposed to mean?"
"It means you're too afraid to deal with what happened, so you've decided to push it away under the guise of 'giving her some time.'" Hughes rolled his eyes in disgust. "I never thought I'd see the day you gave her up so easily."
"She's grieving," Roy protested. "It's not my place . . . I'm not . . . I mean . . . we're not . . ."
"Like hell you're not," Hughes snorted. "I'm sure I don't have to tell you how stupid you sound."
Roy was silent for a moment.
"Maes, I wished her not pregnant," he said quietly.
"And . . . ?"
"And I knew you wouldn't understand." Roy's unguarded expression retreated, and his brows knit petulantly together. "I don't really want to talk about this right now."
Now it was Hughes's turn to scowl. Not understand? He understood only too well. He'd been watching the revoltingly complicated courtship ritual between Roy and Riza for years, and he understood it better than he ever wanted to. Roy was the one who didn't understand that he could never see clearly where Riza was concerned. He had told himself he was not going to goad his friend more than was completely necessary to galvanize him, but he simply had to say something to prove that he did indeed understand.
"Wishing it never happened is not the same thing as wishing for this."
"There you go with the talking again," Roy snapped.
"Because I'm not afraid to talk about feelings and also not frightened of your threats," he said. "Come on, what have you been thinking about?"
Roy still wasn't quite sure if he should really delve into his thoughts here and now. He considered Hughes to check for sincerity, but his friend seemed genuinely concerned. Perhaps it couldn't hurt.
"Hakuro." He saw Hughes raise his eyebrows, but his friend didn't comment. "What kills me is that he's got two kids that worship the ground at his feet. He absolutely adores them. And yet, he's probably nothing but relieved about losing this child. How can a man who is so good to his family be so monstrous?"
"He's certainly not the first man to live two different lives. In many ways I think our personalities are simply mirrors of the people around us." Hughes shrugged and adopted his philosophical stance. "We behave differently in different company, and in many ways certain people call to mind the ways we acted in the past when we knew them. And you know as well as I do that he was never going to be the child's father."
Yes, Roy knew. He and Hawkeye were gravitating towards each other. He knew even as he tried not to think about it, that he would have had a place in the child's life. He hadn't wanted to hope, and now he knew that he had been wishing in spite of himself.
And as he looked at Hughes's somber face, another understanding began to take shape. He began to understand what his friend had lost in all of this. Maes wanted them together more than anything, not only for the sake of Roy's happiness, but for his own as well. He cherished the dream of having another couple to interact with. A couple he was already on good terms with. A couple who was intimately familiar with the military and the war, but also young and interesting. The dance had shown him that Roy and Riza could be that couple. Then he'd have Roy, Roy would have Riza, and Gracia would have female company when they did things together.
The child, of course, would play with Elysia. Elysia would boss the younger kid around, but not in a mean way, and Riza's child, especially if it was a girl, would idolize her. They'd have play dates while Riza and Gracia discussed them over tea. Sleepovers when they were older. Or maybe not if it was a boy.
Yes, somehow he knew without having to ask that all of these thoughts had stolen across Hughes's mind and evolved into complex scenarios. He couldn't even say that he minded very much. It would have been nice . . .
"I don't know, Maes," he said at last. "Everything's all screwed up."
"You're certainly not making it any better."
"Then what would you have me do?" He spread his hands helplessly and looked at the ceiling, remembering fondly when a certain piece of mistletoe had been taped there a lifetime ago. Funny how that had seemed like drama back then.
"I feel like a broken record when I say this, but I think you should talk to her," Hughes sighed. "You've got to go to each other now or it'll only get harder."
"Yeah, okay, I'll call her," Roy mumbled.
"Good. I think I've made my point." Hughes slunk toward the door. "And now I think I'm almost an hour late from my lunch break, so I should probably, you know, go back."
Roy cracked a smile.
"Good luck."
And with that, he was gone.
Roy stared at the phone on his desk. It was probably not a good idea to use the office phone for personal calls. Not that this had ever stopped Hughes. Of course, he rationalized, this could be construed as a work-related call. He was checking up on his lieutenant's health, like any concerned commanding officer ought to do. He was being quite thoughtful really. He might even sign another form while he was at it.
He didn't know what had happened after he left the hospital at 1 A.M. last night. She'd been asleep. He knew she'd be released in the morning. Physically, she was almost recovered, and even if she wasn't, he knew she'd never tolerate lying uselessly in a bed. But he didn't think she would be up to working, even though she would most certainly try. Hawkeye was the type of person who would try to come in to work with both legs broken and her hands tied, so he put in a request at the hospital for the patient to be given a day's leave, no matter what excuses she came up with. Then he'd gone to work and tried desperately not to think about her.
It was damn near impossible. He couldn't stand not knowing what was happening. Calling her would sooth his nerves.
He picked up the receiver. "Riza, are you alright?" "Riza, I just wanted to talk to you." "Riza, I'm sorry." "Riza, I'm going mad without you." None of those sounded like the right way to begin this conversation. The first was a stupid question. The second was pathetic. The third was funeralesque. And the fourth—Good Lord. What if she still didn't want to talk to him? But he was dialing.
The phone rang, and kept ringing. Perhaps they hadn't released her after all. He was disappointed—and relieved.
"Hello?"
Her voice startled him out of his reverie.
"Hi—I, I wanted—I mean, this is Colonel Mustang." He smacked his palm into his face. Damn. Damn. Damn. So much for composure.
"I know that, sir."
"Of course, sorry." He took a fortifying breath. "I'm just . . . well, I'm not sure what I was going to say."
Her voice was small. "It's ok."
Relief flooded him. She was speaking, however minimally. It was hard to tell on the phone, but she also didn't seem mad about her enforced time off. "Oh. That's good. Are you feeling better?"
"Yes," she said. "I think I'll be fine."
Her words made up his mind. That oft repeated lie was enough to remind him what this call was all about. It was time for the truth.
"Listen, I'm sorry I've been such a jerk," he told her. "I shouldn't have left you to deal with this alone. I don't know what I was thinking."
"I wanted space."
If only he could believe that. "Did you really, or are you just trying to make me feel better?"
"Well, I did," she tried. ". . . At first."
"And now?"
She paused. "I'm glad Hughes told you to call me."
"He didn't . . . I was . . . on my own . . ." Roy stammered ineffectually. "Fine, whatever. Would you mind if I came over after work?"
"Not at all."