The monotony of firearms recertification was over. The day to day monotony of Rebecca's life had been a point of annoyance over recent months, she missed being out in the field and feeling like she was actually making a difference, rather than just checking some guy that sat behind a desk all day could still handle his weapon, and yes, she had heard every possible innuendo it was possible to make about weapons and misfires. However, now it was a welcome distraction from the crazy.
The crazy being Riza coming back from the dead without any memories and then ending up followed by some weirdo, and let's not even talk about the creepy lab she'd taken Jean and Mustang to. Rebecca loved Riza like a sister, but she attracted crazy like no one else Rebecca had ever met in her life. Just look at Mustang.
Rebecca sat at one of the desks in Mustang's outer office and trawled through her share of the files of the soldiers who had been marked as either KIA or MIA on the Promised Day. Mustang's actual team (plus the Elric's) had been going through them all day, while also running the office and apologising for Mustang's sudden leave of absence. The official line was that he was ill, but Rebecca seriously doubted that anyone believed it, especially since gossip about Riza's return was beginning to spread.
File after file, after file, got compared to the grainy photograph of the man who had followed her and Riza around town, sat near them at lunch, and let them carry on with their lives. The thought that he was out there made her skin crawl, and she'd been silently relieved when Jean had offered to stay at hers, and it had given her a sense of security that would've been missing if she'd had to go home alone last night.
They all sat in silence, the sound of ruffling pages, and an occasional thump of files hitting either the floor or the desk were the only noises that filled the room. Eastern HQ slowly emptied as the day staff went home, and the skeleton crew night shift took up their stations, but they sat there until late into the night, when Jean finally pushed his files away.
"I need a break." He said. "I've done nothing but stare at these files all day. I'm done."
"I'm going to keep going." Edward said, not looking up from the file he was looking over. He had a notebook next to him where he'd scribbled some notes down.
"Me too." Alphonse agreed.
"Okay guys, your funeral." Jean said as he stood up and stretched. "I'll take the early shift, Breda. Fuery, don't stay here all night getting wired on coffee."
Rebecca would have kept going forever if she needed to, for Riza, she'd do a lot of things. But Jean had given her an out and she needed sleep, some food, and a hot shower. Not necessarily in that order. So she shrugged her uniform jacket back on, "I'll come as well. Night guys."
Goodbyes and orders given, even half heartedly, and Rebecca and Jean left HQ for her small apartment only twenty minutes walk away. She slipped her hand into the crook of his arm, and they walked along in silence. Everything she wanted to say, every worry about Riza and what was going on, it couldn't be uttered out here in public. They knew now, that anyone could be listening to them, following them through the dark streets of the city to her home. She felt shivers go up her spine at the thought of it, and turned to look behind her just in case.
"No one's following us, princess." Jean said quietly. "You're okay."
"It's not me I'm worried about." Rebecca bristled at being caught out. "It's you. You're a delicate flower after all."
Jean laughed, and kissed the top of her head as they turned the corner onto her street. "Sure, Becca. I'm the one we need to worry about."
Rebecca half heartedly grumbled in response, she knew there was no way to win the argument. She'd been caught being paranoid, and as much as she hated to admit it, he wasn't who either of them were worried about. She was god only knew how many miles away doing god only knew what with Mustang. Rebecca hoped that they were bored, and not up to anything that she'd have to yell at Mustang about later, but she knew they'd both probably end up doing something stupid.
"Xingese food?" Jean asked.
"Huh?"
"Million miles away?" Jean asked.
"I was thinking about - y'know." She waved her hand as if that explained she was worried about Riza, about what she was doing with Mustang, about this guy that had followed them, and about this whole goddamn situation they'd all ended up in. Jean, thankfully, seemed to get it. Or at least seemed to get that it wasn't about him or anything he needed to worry about too much. He pulled her into a quick hug, and she let out a deep breath against his chest.
"How about I grab some food. You go home and do whatever girly shit you do when you get in, and I'll see you in bit?" Jean asked. "I'll get you those spring rolls you like."
"Girly shit?" Rebecca asked, a smirk tugged at the corner of her lips. "Okay, fine, you win. Bring food, and who knows you might even get lucky."
"Might?" Jean asked, and wiggled his eyebrows for emphasis, which turned Rebecca's smirk into a full blown smile.
"Depends how good the spring rolls are." Rebecca pointed out. She kissed him quickly and sweetly on the mouth before she headed off to her apartment, and left him in search of food.
Rebecca's apartment was small, but functional, and she'd decorated it with girlish touches and frivolous bits and bobs since she'd moved in. She'd had the apartment since she'd graduated from the Academy, and she'd claimed it was the reason why she didn't follow Fuhrer Grumman to central, because she just had way too much stuff to pack away and the rent here was really reasonable. The truth had been far more complicated. Rebecca didn't want to work in the building her friend had died protecting, she didn't want to look out of a window and think of Riza buried under rubble and dust, and Rebecca knew that Riza would've wanted someone out East to keep an eye on Mustang and his team. She might've wanted to strangle Mustang almost a million times a day back then, but it's what Riza would've wanted.
Now Riza was back, and Rebecca was almost free to decide what she wanted to do next. Once all of this was over, she'd have to decide if she wanted to stay in recertification, or move on to something a little more exciting. A little more real. There was time for that decision later, and it wasn't made any less complicated by having Jean around. Why was life always so fucking complicated?
Rebecca sighed and kicked her boots off, hung up her military jacket and was in the bedroom about to take off her gun holsters and head to the shower when there was a knock on the door.
Someone knocking on her door wasn't weird on it's own, but it was late and Jean had a key ever since that one time she got sloppy drunk and passed out on him. Not her finest moment, but she'd been lost in grief, and he'd looked after her. In fact, he'd pulled her out of her grief kicking and screaming.
Cautiously, Rebecca unholstered one of her guns and went to answer the door. It was probably just the woman from across the hall for some reason, or the little old lady from downstairs who liked to gossip a bit too much, or at least that was what Rebecca tried to tell herself before she opened the door.
It wasn't the woman from across the hall, and it wasn't the little old lady from downstairs. It wasn't even Jean, on the off chance that he'd left his key at his place or the office.
It was the man from the photograph. The man who had followed her and Riza around as they shopped. The man who was after Riza.
Rebecca smiled, and kept her gun out of sight. Jean was on the way, and if things turned nasty before that, she could handle it. She could.
"Hi. Can I help you?" Rebecca asked. She wished she'd kept her boots on. She felt vulnerable standing there in her socks and only half her uniform.
"Maybe." The man smiled. It might've looked charming on anyone else, but on him, it made her skin crawl. "I'm looking for Riza Hawkeye, I haven't been able to find her anywhere, and I thought you might be able to help me."
"I don't know where she is, sorry." Rebecca said. Her heart felt like it was going to beat out of her chest, and she had to try to keep calm, keep friendly, keep nonthreatening.
"That wasn't the kind of help I meant."
He tried to barge his way in just as Rebecca tried to slam the door on his face, and he grunted as the door instead made contact with his foot before bouncing back against the wall with a loud thud. Rebecca backed up quickly, she'd been field certified long before she'd taken her crappy desk job, and some things were instinctive. Some moves were buried in her bones and muscle, some training couldn't be extinguished by years behind a desk. The problem was she didn't want to kill him. She had the shot, and this closely a blind invalid could've made it, but she wanted him alive. They needed him alive.
Jean could've taken him out easily, so could Breda, and the Elrics, if they were here. They weren't though, and it was just her against this brute.
He got the first hit, knocked her off her feet and into the wall. Her ears rang and there were stars floating in front of her eyes and she waved her pistol around to get him to back up. Luckily he didn't want to get shot any more than she wanted to kill him. Blood trickled down her face, although she couldn't feel the pain yet, and she spun the gun around so that she could hit him with the butt of it and hopefully knock him out.
"What the fuck?!" Jean's voice rang across the corridor and through her open door, and the main spun to look at him.
Jean was a bigger threat, and would get in the way of whatever the fuck he was trying to do, so Rebecca wasn't surprised when he headed towards him. She took her chance, and whacked the butt of her gun across the back of his head, he made a startled grunt before he fell to the floor. It was remarkably easy.
"Fuck, fuck, fuck, Becca, are you okay?" Jean's hands were on her face, probing at her forehead. She must've cut it when she hit the wall. "Becca, baby? What happened?"
"He was looking for Riza." Rebecca said. Her hands were shaking, and her breathing fast. Left over adrenaline from the fight was pumping through her veins even though she didn't need it anymore. "Is he breathing, I didn't want to kill him."
Jean held her hand tightly, not letting go for a second as he checked the man had survived his meeting with the unorthodox end of her gun. "Yeah, he's alive. Don't worry about him."
Rebecca nodded. They needed to call this in, she needed to wipe the blood off her face, they needed to tell Mustang and Riza what had happened, and they needed to get this guy somewhere where they could get him to talk.
"Come on, Jean, we've got work to do." She said. Her hands might still be shaking, and once they'd done all they needed to, she was going to have a long cry and eat more chocolate than the human body could handle. Right now though, they had a lead, and she wasn't about to let it slip through her fingers.