Disclaimer: FMA belongs to Arakawa Hiromu
Notes: I think I could have done better setting the scene if I hadn't been thinking, "Oh, it's getting too long already . . .". Next time I shall have to ignore that idea and just write it however long it needs to be, I guess. Not all of my responses to the themes have to be similar length.
Twenty-three: Someone I Want to Protect
Inky green waters grew darker as one last lungful of air bubbles escaped from her mouth. The bubbles floated sideways past her face, and Riza dully thought, "Oh, so the surface is that way." Her first floundering minute trying to determine which direction was up had burned at her lungs in a way that would have been welcome when compared to the feeling in her chest now – this shrivelled, clawing feeling trying to draw her beyond consciousness. It distracted her wonderfully from the throbbing ache in her shoulder, caused by a gunshot that she now would have preferred to have taken in the heart – it would have stopped this agony sooner. Her blood was curling out into the water, in ribbons and wisps that should draw flesh-eaters with enough time.
She had been watching one particular ribbon while debating whether to breathe the water in, now her air was gone, and frowned as it whipped away unexpectedly, strands of her hair following it. Something gripped her about the waist – an arm, she assumed, given the fingers digging into her hip – and she let it pull her along.
Then, all of a sudden, her head broke the surface, and air – precious air! – assaulted her lungs, scratching her throat with the sharpness of the night. She gasped, coughing in surprise, and was hauled out of the water onto the jetty by two pairs of hands.
"Hawkeye! Hawkeye! Can you hear me?"
She nodded fiercely, clinging to the jetty desperately and blinking salt water out of her eyes. Further commotion made her lift her head, trying to focus on what was happening back at the water.
"Boss, are you alright? Boss?"
A spray of water flicked onto Hawkeye as she tried to sit up (she didn't make it, as she had forgotten about the bullet in her shoulder, and fell back down when the wound twinged terribly). A struggling Mustang was set down beside her. He coughed again and again, spitting up water, and scrambled to the edge of the jetty, retching over the side.
Giddy that she was alive, Hawkeye laughed quietly. "Don't kill yourself over me, sir."
She could hear the glare in his voice as he snapped back at her angrily. "Never do that again, Hawkeye. Jumping in front of a bullet for me? You could have died!"
She laughed again, but before she could speak he continued. "You aren't the only one who has someone to protect."