Disclaimer: FMA belongs to Arakawa Hiromu

Notes: Ay! Spoilers abound! Let me find where they all are . . . Spoilers for Chapter 85, pp 3 and 4; Ch89, p42; Ch 83 p13; Ch 87, pp38-43; Ch 80, p9. There are probably more, too XD

Seventy-three: Parting

Almost a dozen of them – Mustang, Edward and their comrades – were holed up in the Armstrong mansion after the coup had almost been ripped apart by the unexpected return of Wrath onto the scene.

Mustang, Hawkeye, Feury and Breda had all been there from almost the start – Havoc had his own, smaller, base to work from at first, but joined them when the place had been destroyed in the fighting. Edward popped in from time to time, but was really more of a visitor than a permanent fixture in the house, as, surprisingly, he went wherever Greed told him. Hohenheim, whom Mustang had felt both wary and honoured in meeting, did the same as his eldest son, but less frequently. It must have been a family trait.

But then Alphonse, Winry, and a frantic Mei appeared, not all together, but hot on one another's heels, and with news that shook the whole estate. Alphonse, damaged and seeming to fall apart before them, brought news of Pride and Gluttony. Mei, tearfully brandishing an empty jar, conveyed the news that Envy had found a new host. The only thing that could make the situation worse, it seemed, was if Lust was resurrected or recreated somehow. They'd never had to face so many impossible opponents all at once before.

As she was readying herself for the final battle of the coup – and possibly the final battle some of them would ever fight – Hawkeye felt a hand briefly slip around her own.

"Just in case . . ."

She avoided his eyes, but put a tight smile on her face. "Someone once said to me 'Never lose the will to live.' I have not, and please, sir . . . no matter what may happen . . . don't stop fighting to fix this ruined world. If I'm not there to watch your back-"

"Hawkeye!"

She stopped talking, hands stilled on top of the case in which she kept her rifle.

Mustang put a halt to the thoughts his mouth wanted to spill out before he could say anything just as rash as she would have. Eventually, he clapped a hand on her shoulder, in an attempt to firm his own resolve more than hers. "We will meet again." Her expression reserved her opinion, but her eyes were doubtful. "That is an order."