Riza Hawkeye pulled her jacket around her closer. The old truck was not in optimal shape and the chill of early spring still cut through the cracks in the frame and sliced directly into her skin. She repressed a shudder, feeling the eyes of the driver train on her from the cracked rearview mirror. If there was anything she refused to do, it was show any kind of weaknesses in front of the men from the compound, especially those she considered more easily influenced by corruption.

That's a terrible way of looking at things, Riza, she scolded herself, but she couldn't really deny it. Her trust in anyone these days was minimal; not even her closest confidant had her complete trust. No, the last person she'd trusted had been her father, and that was buried along with his body.

"There's a canteen of water under the bench if you're thirsty," the driver said loudly, his voice breaking through the rumbling of the engine as the truck bumped over uneven ground.

"Thank you," she replied stiffly, trying to smile a little. Her hands flexed over her rifle, and the other equipment from the stakeout rattled against the tinny sounding floor. A headache was beginning to take shape in the front of her forehead and she closed her eyes briefly against the pain. What she needed was a steaming cup of coffee and a shower; it would help to wash off the memories in her head from this morning.

The ride to the camp for the compound was about a twenty minutes from East City, and the relief of being back in comfortable territory was a palpable stream in her blood that loosened the intensity of her shoulders as the truck driver pulled into the dusty, makeshift parking space between the crevices of the hillside.

"Thank you," she said again, standing up and slinging her gun strap over one shoulder. The driver grinned back at her over his shoulder and she wanted to cringe away from him because there was just something about the way he sneered that had her hackles going up.

"My pleasure," he told her.

Riza pushed open the back doors of the truck and hopped out, grabbing all her equipment with her and lugging it toward the old, abandoned warehouse that sat half-carved into the swell of the hill. Looking to her west, she could see the glimmers of East City as the sun rose higher and sparked off the rooftops. The breeze picked up, flinging her bangs about her face and tangling in her eyelashes and she had to push away the churning in her stomach as she thought about what would happen to that man she'd killed this morning. How his wife and two sons would react upon hearing the news.

She walked through the gate and into the front lobby room, leaving her things at the desk with a deep breath. Damn, that shower was sounding good right about now.

"Good morning, Miss Hawkeye," the desk assistant - Riza thought her name was Maria Ross, but she'd seen so many faces she couldn't be completely sure - said with a smile, taking the rifle and the equipment off the counter space and plugging it into a cubby marked with Riza's name. Some poor kid not old enough to do anything else would be the one to clean up and restock her supplies for her next mission.

Riza mustered a smile, but she couldn't necessarily call the start to this day good at all. Even if that man had needed to be killed - was part of the organization that was killing others and in much larger masses - it still didn't erase the value of his human life. That he was alive and that she'd taken it away.

But she wouldn't dwell on it, because then she'd go mad with guilt.

"Morning," she responded, rubbing some warmth into her hands. "Do I have any other assignments for the day?"

Maria glanced down at the scattered stack of papers on the desk and sifted through them for a few moments. A couple of men walked through the lobby and waved at Riza while she waited; she nodded in response and almost smiled. Her reputation around the compound was so large that everyone was respectful to her.

Of course, her fame among the men and woman who were a part of the resistance organization was also helped along by the commander and chief of the whole operation. That man was insufferable, though, and she prayed that maybe today he'd forget that she existed for the time being.

"Ah," Maria said, smiling a bit up at Riza. "Looks like your schedule is cleared for the day; they didn't even put you on guard duty tonight."

Surprise flickered across Riza's face; being one of the sharpest pair of eyes on this camp, she was almost always on some sort of look-out post, especially at night. Then she remembered who helped to fill out the assignment sheets and rolled her eyes. Of course he would.

"Thank you," she said kindly, her smile turning genuine this time.

The dark haired woman grinned. "No problem. Enjoy that day off, Miss Hawkeye."

Riza nodded and began to make her way to the staircase when a familiar face was coming up them. He smiled instantly at her, the cigarette dangling casually between his lips like always, blonde hair ruffled like he just rolled out of bed. She smiled inwardly at his appearance as she came to a stop and let him approach her, crossing her arms over her chest and frowning.

"It's barely eight in the morning, Havoc," she said with a raised eyebrow. "And you're already trying to kill yourself." She reached for the cigarette, but he laughed and pulled away from her reaching hand.

"You scare me more than a tobacco stick," he said before wrapping an arm around her shoulders. "Glad to see you made it back."

She shrugged away from him awkwardly and tried to keep her face from showing the slight unease she still felt around him. They'd been working together with the resistance since she joined when she was seventeen, and it would be a lie to say that she didn't have any history with Jean Havoc. He'd been her first for everything, and though she never thought that she loved him, she did care for him a lot.

They'd agreed to breaking it off mutually when they got older and things changed. They were expected to do more as a member of the Resistance. Havoc was placed into weight training and hand to hand combat, with a night course in close range target practice. Riza's days were spent on agility and field work, and above all else, constant attention to any variation of guns and weapons.

All in all, Riza merely considered him her only real friend in the compound, with the exception of her roommate, and it was stupid of her to be uncomfortable with him at moments because she knew that he'd moved on too. She briefly wondered if he was ever uncomfortable around her too, but brushed the thought away immediately. It was Havoc.

"Glad to be back," she said as he made a gesture for her to go first down the staircase. "It was a nice surprise to see that I was off the hook for the rest of the day." When she reached the bottom she looked over her shoulder and smiled at him. "Thanks."

He rolled his eyes, but his voice became teasing as they entered the cafeteria. "I invited Olivier out to dinner in the city tonight, but the request for time off the grounds would only go through if there were more than four signed to the slip." He laughed. "I figured you could use the time off anyway. You work too hard."

A night in the city, huh? Didn't sound too bad, and in all actuality, it would be nice to leave the compound for a while. The last time she'd done anything remotely leisurely off base grounds had been over two months ago, and the little bookshelf she had in her room was quickly losing its novelty since she knew every story from cover to cover.

And it made her relieved to know that he didn't actually do it for quite her sake. A part of her relaxed and a bit of the anxiety melted away.

"Olivier Armstrong, huh?" she asked casually, though her shock at the idea was poorly hidden from her expression. She couldn't imagine what that woman could possibly see in Havoc enough to notice him; most men were afraid of her, and the ones that weren't quickly found out how to be.

His face darkened in color as he lead her to his table and they sat down. There was a tin platter with a covering and she removed it, sighing as the aroma hit her nose. Oh god, there was nothing like a hot breakfast after the morning she'd had.

"Yeah, she, uh, she's slotted for my combat practice times and she's kicked my ass a few times. I made a bet with her."

Riza took a sip of her coffee, amused. Olivier Armstrong making bets? That was just about the most wildly uncharacteristic thing she'd ever heard. Just what kind of effect does Havoc have on that woman? "A bet?"

Havoc grinned enthusiastically and leaned back in his seat, looking proud of himself in a typical male fashion. "I bet her that if I could beat her, she'd go out to dinner with me."

She laughed once at the pure joy that rolled off him and picked up her fork to begin eating. He deserved some happiness in his life, after all of the things that he was put through. Where Riza was separated from her kills, Havoc was up close and personal. He saw the light leave their eyes, felt their last breaths rattle the air.

"A little advice speaking on behalf of women everywhere: on the first date, don't let your eyes wander," she warned him good-naturedly, remembering the times when they were an item and the first thing he'd look at were, inevitably, her breasts.

His face reddened again, as if he knew exactly what she was thinking. "Got it."

::::::::::

After finishing her breakfast, Havoc told her where she and the rest of the party were meeting before leaving the compound tonight. She nodded and thanked him once more before heading off to her room, grateful that she could finally be alone.

Once there, she peeled off the outer clothes like her jackets and over shirts before toeing out of her boots and slipping the heavy pants down her legs. The chilly air bit at her exposed skin but she was practically dancing with excitement, despite her exhaustion, to get into the shower. Anticipation had her smiling as she grabbed her towel, a change of clothes and toiletries and opened her bathroom door-

The phone on her desk rang. Riza sighed and set her things down on the counter just inside the bathroom before hurrying over to the phone, taking her hair clip out as she answered it. "Hello?"

"Miss Hawkeye, you've got a call from the commander if you're not busy," came Maria Ross's voice over the phone, sounding more formal than she had earlier that morning.

Riza leaned against the wall. "I'm available; you can patch him through." There were a few clicking noises and then she sighed when she knew that he was there. "I'm not a seventeen year old little girl anymore," she said, trying to keep the irritation from her voice. "You don't have to keep checking up on me."

"I am your superior as well as your grandfather and I'll do as I please," he responded in a voice that held more amusement than the gruffness his words relayed. She repressed the urge to sigh at him and closed her eyes, pinching the bridge of her nose.

"Is there something you wanted in particular?" she asked, forcing herself to keep civil. If she was being quite honest with herself, she'd almost prefer to talk to the Commander side of Grumman rather than the grandfatherly one. Out of everyone else in her life, he was the one she distrusted the most, despite the blood ties.

She gritted her teeth as he responded; he sounded much too pleased with himself. "Not quite this time. I trust your assignment this morning went without trouble?"

"Perfectly executed." As if he should expect anything less from her.

"I'm thrilled to hear it."

Her head tilted back against the wall. "Commander, you never call without a reason and I'm not inclined to believe that this conversation is going to be any different." So why won't you come out with it already?

He was silent for a moment. "I will be travelling out to your base near East City tomorrow night," he reported curtly and she could see it now, him leaning back in his chair as he brushed his fingers of his graying moustache. "We've got a big obstacle looming in that area and I want to be there to make sure it goes according to plan in every conceivable way."

Yes, that made sense, but why was he calling her? "And what do you expect me to do with this information, sir?" She knew that his advisor stationed at this base would know of his arrival, so she couldn't quite figure out the meaning behind his need to talk to her.

"I'm going to have a very important mission for you, Riza," he said in a lower voice. "How successful you are could change the entire course of our strategy. I only have to dig a little more before I know for sure who your target will be."

"I'm used to going out and completing missions," she replied.

"Yes, but none to this caliber of importance, I assure you," he sounded tired when he spoke.

"Alright." She was starting to get a sense of foreboding. "What's so important about this one kill?"

"Like I said, I'm still waiting to hear back from some of our informants before I've got the whole picture. Enough about work, we can talk about that when I arrive tomorrow. How is your shoulder?"

She puffed air out of her lungs, thinking to the bullet that grazed her shoulder last week during a more lively field day. "How did you know about that?"

"Oh posh, Riza, it's my job to know."

"It's fine, thank you." There was more acid in her voice than necessary; he didn't care about her well-being as much as he let on. She knew that his real concerns lay with overthrowing the government's hold on its people, the poor living conditions most of them were stuck with, the hunger and the thirst. While the military had everything handed to them on a silver platter. His obsession with evening the playing field was understandable but that didn't make his false worry for her any more acceptable.

She glanced up in surprise when the lock of her room jiggled and then the door was being thrown open. Her roommate, Rebecca, sauntered in without her shirt on, looking extremely perplexed before she looked up and saw Riza standing there with the phone to her ear.

"Riza! Hey you're back! I can't find my shirt; I don't remember where I-oh, you're on the phone, sorry!" She grinned and closed the door behind her. "Who is it?"

Riza shook her head at the curly-haired woman. "It's not really any of your business, Rebecca."

On the line, Grumman chuckled and the sound irritated Riza. She disliked when he was humored at her expense, especially when she wasn't even trying to be witty or entertaining.

"Well excuuuuuse me," her roommate replied, rolling her eyes in a playful way. "Don't mind me, carry on with your conversation." She waved with her hands and then went to her dresser to pull out a new shirt, shifting through the crumpled mobs of fabric stuffed into the drawers.

"I have to go, sir," Riza said, turning her attention back to the line.

"Yes, I suspect you do. Got plans for tonight after all, don't you?"

She seethed as she hung up the phone, hearing his laughter ring in her ears. How the hell had he gotten a hold of her plans so easily and so soon? It's not like she had to report to him every time she had to take a damn breath and he'd never really given her special attention at all since she joined him in the Resistance so why wouldn't he just leave her alone?

Rebecca sat on her bed and crossed her legs. "You look flustered."

Riza groaned and rubbed her face. "I don't know how much longer I can take dealing with that man. I don't care if he's the last living relative I have."

"Well, I mean, it could be worse."

"How could it be worse? He calls me at least once a week and he's somehow gotten control of not only the plans that I make for myself, but also every other small detail of my life! I can't do anything without him hearing about it and having him unload his opinions and his objections on my actions!"

Rebecca whistled, surprised by the outburst; Riza rarely showed so much emotion. "I was only saying what the roommate is inclined to say. Your life actually sucks. Sorry."

"Thanks," Riza replied sarcastically and then made a face. "I shouldn't be yelling at you. It's just that talking to him after completing an assignment is the last thing I want to do." She couldn't explain it really, and it didn't make sense, but a part of her felt that he was watching her for his own ulterior motives. The old man was concocting something and it frustrated her that she couldn't figure out what it was exactly, or what kind of part she would play in his grand scheme.

"I'll bet. Oh! I'm sorry I wasn't here to meet you for breakfast, I went to target practice."

"Without a shirt?"

"You know what, don't ask about that, because I don't even know."

For the first time that morning, Riza's smile felt genuine. "I'm not sure I want to know anyway." She made her way back toward the bathroom door and locked it behind her. Her face turned to the mirror and she studied her reflection long and hard. Her caramel eyes raked over her long, honey-toned hair, her chapped lips, the tension in her shoulders.

She wasn't fooled; she knew that she wasn't necessarily attractive, but that wasn't the reason why she hated the woman she saw in the mirror at all.

Turning away, she repressed a shudder, and peeled off the t-shirt and shorts she wore before slipping her undergarments also from her body. She turned up the knob for the water as hot as she could possibly stand and then stepped into the stream and let the water work over the knots in her back.

A shower always cleared her mind and chased away the darkness that seemed to cloud around her after finishing an assignment. It was the best remedy for her, the only way to make herself feel a little bit better. She joined the Resistance knowing that she'd have to kill - needing to kill in order to turn the tides and give the people of this country the freedom they deserved - but she didn't understand the weight of her commitment until she saw her first victim fall.

She'd cried that night into her pillow, but that was the only time she'd ever let her mask break. Now, after several years of the same routine, she was almost immune to the idea, but not quite. Because the guilt was still a weight on her chest, still a yoke on her shoulders that even the water couldn't wash away.

It was hard to remember the last time she'd been truly happy. Maybe there were glimmers of it in the first stages of her relationship with Havoc so many years ago, but that was also back when her youth meant innocence. Now, though she was only in her twenties, she didn't feel young or careless anymore. She couldn't afford to be.

After an extended period of time, she shut off the water and toweled herself dry before donning her fresh change of clothes. When she emerged from the bathroom, Rebecca was still laying on her bed, her curls splayed around her head like a fan. Her eyes darted to Riza and she made a face.

"You are at least going to wear a skirt out tonight, aren't you?" she asked, noticing the baggy pants and the T-shirt that Riza was wearing.

"I will wear whatever I please." The blonde put her bathroom things away and began to comb her hair.

"Come on, Riza, you never go out anywhere, the least you can do is show off them sexy legs of yours."

"My legs are hardly sexy."

"You could ask any man in the compound and they would disagree heartily. Want me to prove it?"

Riza shook her head and put the comb down. "Fine, I'll wear a damned skirt."

And hours later, she was pulling down the hem of the skirt so that it at least touched her kneecaps, a plain V-necked shirt tucked in at the waist. She didn't mind the long slit up the side; it was easier to reach the gun in her holster than having to yank the fabric up if need be.

Rebecca had been in on the night out in East City, but she was dressed much more boisterously than Riza in a bright dress and applied heavier makeup insisting that she was going to get laid tonight even if it was with a man twice her age.

"As long as he can give as good as I got, I'm down for anything," she explained as if it was a fair fact to share with the entire world. Rebecca's lack of privacy never ceased to amaze Riza.

Havoc, Olivier Armstrong, and Kain Fuery were waiting by the doors all with varying expressions on their face ranging from Havoc's smug look, to Olivier's icy, hardened glare, to the excitement that shone off Fuery like a six year old on his birthday. Riza felt a rising sense of relief the farther they got from the building, despite the strange atmosphere of emotions.

She felt normal, for once, almost like a young woman her age should feel when she was presented with the opportunity to go out and enjoy a night on the town. The whole feeling was so strange that she was apprehensive about it but once she was in the town vehicle speeding toward East City while sandwiched between Fuery and Rebecca, the apprehension began to leave her.

There was no way to tell what kind of night she would have after all.