Chpater 3 - Eastern Command
Roy felt his chest ache slightly with the chilly morning air rasping up and down his throat.
"This is very important," Riza had told him seriously. "No one apart from four men are allowed to see you – I have an excuse but I don't want to have to use it. If there is a knock on the door or someone enters the office, you hide and don't make a sound until I tell you to, okay?" she had said, then apologised.
Roy had nodded, just as serious. He couldn't get her into trouble, not after she had come to pick him up and shared her miserable home with him.
No, he was going to guard whatever other secrets she had so that he could stay with her.
They were going to the military headquarters. Roy had only ever seen it from afar – its frighteningly imposing walls, surrounded by an enormous moat. When they neared a gigantic building with the Amestrian flag above the entrance, and still nothing looked familiar, he tugged on Riza's sleeve.
"This is Eastern Command." She guessed his thoughts.
Roy frowned fiercely. The bus ride hadn't been that long the last night or that morning; how were they in East City? Just when he remembered that she had mentioned something about bringing him to East City Hospital, she interrupted his musings.
"Hold on, we're going to make it five people."
Roy had to squint to follow her sharp gaze through the fog. A figure was coming towards them.
Without waiting, Riza turned on the heel. Confused, throwing glances back to the shadow figure now following them, Roy grabbed Riza's hand. It made her slow down slightly, realising how she must have been spurring his short legs.
She stopped in the back alley of a bakery. Roy could tell by the noise there was – no one else worked this cruelly early in the morning. Smoke was ascending from the chimney of the red brick building.
The shadow had caught up to them. A woman wearing the same clothes as Riza.
"There you are – finally," she said. She had long, curly brown hair that she had pulled back with a hair tie.
"It's good to see you."
"Damn, Riza, where've you been this whole time? I'm leaving for that stupid training camp today, remember? I wanted to see you before," the woman said over the noise of the bakery.
"I'm sorry, we were terribly busy and then there was that mission."
"Yeah, Jean mentioned something; wouldn't tell me what."
"You spoke with Lieutenant Havoc?"
"Yesterday, after the last trial exercise. He stuck around, so we chatted – you know, from Second Lieutenant to Second Lieutenant." The woman smirked, something that told Roy just as little as the names exchanged.
Riza smiled. "That's great – congratulations, Becca! Why didn't you tell me sooner?"
"It was sort of a surprise."
"We'll celebrate when you're back, I promise."
"Absolutely. Oh, I gotta tell you what Grumman said when announcing my promotion, that nutjob." The woman – Becca – rolled her eyes. Riza smiled, though it wasn't enough to make her laugh.
Roy wondered what would make her laugh; if he could make her laugh and what her laughter sounded like.
"Meanwhile, this is bound to be a much more interesting story." Roy felt eyes on him when the woman jerked her head to where he was hiding beneath Riza's black coat. "Is there something I should know about?" She raised an accusing brow.
"That would be the mission Lieutenant Havoc was referring to." Riza lowered her voice.
"About a child?"
"He's not just a child, he's… Colonel Mustang—"
"You had a kid with Colonel—" The woman's exclaim was muffled by Riza's hand over her mouth.
"Rebecca!" Riza hissed. She threw a glance over her shoulder to the back door of the bakery. The ovens droned on, and when nothing happened after another moment, she let out a breath. "He is the Colonel. There was some sick alchemic experiment and now he's…"
"A child." It dawned on Rebecca. She crouched down, making Roy eye her suspiciously.
"He doesn't look like me one bit and I think the military knows I don't have any family," Riza said as if absently. Roy's ears perked, but he was too busy clutching her uniform to ask about her familyless-ness.
Rebecca was looking him up and down. "Black hair is dominant – he could be anyone's." She tilted her head sideways. "And he looks kinda Xingese if you ask me."
"He's not Xingese." Riza tugged on Roy protectively. Rebecca's gaze unsettled her slightly, so she asked Roy, "Are you?"
"I can speak some Xingese," Roy proudly declared, not sure what the original question meant. He proceeded to tell them what he knew, earning himself two puzzled faces. "It means 'son of a—'"
"That's quite enough." Riza tapped his mouth to shush him.
Rebecca laughed. "Wow. With that language he really is more mine than yours." She stood, hands on her hips. "Alright, if someone asks, I'll say he's the… friend of the son of my… first cousin twice removed – no wait, my second cousin once removed; can't be that young and have a— what is he, five years old?"
"Turning six in March," Roy retorted defiantly. When her brow rose this time, she looked impressed rather than accusatory. Riza petted Roy's head, refraining from telling him the actual month of the year and his backstory. Yet. He didn't look up to see the trouble clouding her eyes; he was enjoying the caresses to his hair.
"Hawkeye doesn't cry."
"She did," Havoc retorted.
Both Fuery and Falman looked more than astonished when Breda gravely nodded through the rear-vision mirror. "She was sobbing – vocally. I mean I never even imagined Hawkeye shedding as much as a single tear, but that… she was so helpless and out of control, it was brutal."
"The way to the hospital wasn't any better; she could hardly breathe," Havoc lowered his voice. His grip on the steering wheel tightened. "She only clutched his tiny body, urging me to go faster."
"So then he actually… shrunk?" Fuery piped up from next to Falman in the backseat. They had gone and picked up the Colonel's car, assuming Hawkeye would want to use it in his 'absence'.
"Yeah," Breda said, but Havoc interrupted.
"No, no, he's a kid now. Six years or so, she said. Doesn't remember a thing – not the military, not us, not even who he used to be, well, is."
"Did she tell him?"
"I don't know."
They parked the car in a side street. Up on their floor at headquarters, Havoc made sure that no one else was around before addressing the team.
"Remember to go easy on her; she's had a rough time," he reminded just before opening the double doors to the office. Sure enough, like every day, there she was.
Riza always arrived before them, although today must have been particularly early to avoid unwanted eyes on the child she had brought to work. Havoc wondered where said child was, about to ask when something rushed past him quicker than he could follow with his eyes.
"What did I tell you?" Riza looked down to where the flash was now hidden behind the Colonel's desk at the far end of the room.
"Not to get caught…" a small voice replied, a guilty pout ringing in it. "I'm sorry."
"You're lucky these are the only people allowed to see you," Riza mildly chided – more mildly than Havoc had ever heard her be with them, especially their superior. "I can introduce you if you want," she offered. He must have been shaking his head, because she bore a soft, understanding smile, then went back to the document on the desk. Roy's desk.
She looked exhausted, even more than the day before (however that was possible). Ready to throw up, keel over or scream at the top of her lungs – or all of it at once. She bore a frown but her voice was tender when talking to Roy.
That's right, this was only 'Roy' – no recollection of his military career whatsoever.
Havoc tried to steal a glance around the desk when seating himself at his own but failed to catch a glimpse of his now six-year-old superior. Was he still his superior? Would he remember later if Havoc, say, bunked work early? Havoc wondered then if Roy would ever go back to normal.
And what they would do if he didn't.
"You okay there, Hawkeye?" he asked, leaning with his arm over the backrest of his chair. "Want me to fetch you a coffee?"
She finished the word she had been writing, but never put down the pen as she looked up. "No, it's alright, thank you."
"We brought the Colonel's car for ya," Breda informed.
She managed a smile, if a weak one. "Thank you."
"And this." Falman stood, dropping the newspaper on her desk. Havoc stretched his neck to see her reaction.
Her eyes widened slightly at the article. She swallowed, then nodded. "It's an excuse as good as any, I suppose."
"It's the best we got – him having gone missing will leave us out of it," Falman supplied. "They'll focus on finding him instead of watching us."
The famed Flame Alchemist, missing. To Central, such a valuable pawn off the radar was more than alarming.
"They'll still be watching us, but right now, everyone's occupied with the soldiers killed in action," Havoc said. He put a cigarette between his lips, withholding from lighting it. "Turns out they weren't just killed, they were reversed like him." He nodded over to her desk where Roy had yet to emerge. "But he's the only one who wasn't reversed all the way to a foetus—"
"Havoc." Breda kicked him under the table.
Riza was keeping a brave face, but her hand had disappeared behind the desk. She didn't look at the men as she spoke, "We'll take it." With her free hand, she slid the paper back across the desk. "It'll give us a reason to vanish for some research – they'll think we're looking for him too."
"Or conspiring," Fuery quietly said.
"That doesn't matter." Riza decided. "If there was a way to control his given age with alchemy, there must be a way to reverse it."
"Maybe ask Fullmetal," Falman suggested, retreating with the paper.
"No, the last thing we can do is ask Edward to perform any kind of human transmutation," Riza sombrely reminded.
Havoc nodded his agreement. "And anyway, how do we know where the hell he is these days?" Havoc took a drag from his unlit cigarette, staring at the ceiling with his arm still over the backrest of his chair. "First the Sewing-Life Alchemist with a talking chimera and now this… Sucking-Life Alchemist. It's just a never-ending freak show this year."
"You know we meant it when we said we'd cover for you for as long as you need," Breda told Riza.
She sighed. "Thank you, but I can't stay away from my post for too long or they'll really suspect some kind of conspiracy with the Colonel. Besides," she held up the document she'd been studying, "that alchemist is in the custody of the military. We'll find out more if we stay close to the source." She got up then, distributing copies of the file to everyone.
Havoc's eyes lit up when he caught a glimpse of Roy, well hidden beneath her waist cape. "Speaking of staying close, he's sticking to you like glue," he chuckled, inviting Roy out with a friendly smile.
The latter only peered out with one eye, suspiciously observing the Second Lieutenant.
"Guess we made the right choice after all." Breda had to smile too, though more at the way Riza shuffled her feet so that Roy could keep up. As if she had done so all her life. Those two were in sync no matter the circumstances – and he felt safest with her, as was rather obvious.
"He looks sorta evil with that squint he's giving me." Havoc rubbed his neck awkwardly.
Roy pulled the waist cape all the way in front of his face, concealing himself.
"He's not evil; he's been through a lot," Riza defended him, putting a hand over where his head was. She crouched down then, in a way that blocked him from view, just as he wanted. "You don't have to be afraid of them; they're here to help. You may trust them," she gently told him.
He kept the tip of her waist cape securely in his hand. Cautiously, Roy peeked past her shoulder. But as soon as he met Havoc's amused gaze, he threw himself into Riza again. "That thing hurts." Was all he complained about, muffled by her uniform. Havoc's brows rose to their peak when Riza actually undid her uniform's front, letting Roy – her superior – smother himself in her chest without uncomfortable ornaments in the way.
"You're welcome to keep exploring the office if you like," she said. "Just make sure that you can hide at any moment."
"I'm hungry…" he mumbled into her.
Havoc nearly snorted. He bit his tongue, grinning instead. Wow, Roy hadn't changed much. Even given the prospect of not having to work, he was picky at the office. What Havoc didn't expect was how spoiled Roy was, seeing as Riza was never this lenient with his adult self, least of all supportive of his laziness.
"We'll get you something to eat."
Breda laughed, spooking Roy. "I'd have saved this up for lunch. I guess I'll just buy another." Digging through his bag, presented a sandwich with fresh salad, tomatoes, pickles and bacon.
"You don't have to," Riza said but it was obvious how relieved she was about not having to find a way to fetch food. It took her turning towards Breda and rubbing Roy's back for another moment until he detached himself.
Havoc leaned forward to see.
The same hair – unkept and pitch-black – the same eyes and chin. His cheeks were puffier, and, of course, he was a kid. If one didn't know him on a daily basis, it was hard to guess who he truly was. Still, the Colonel was well-known, especially amongst the higher ranks who were the most dangerous to him – now more than ever.
Hawkeye had to retrieve the sandwich when he wouldn't dare advance any closer than a metre.
"Good?" Breda asked once Roy was nibbling shyly on the sandwich. He nodded into it, making Riza smile with relief. "Lemme know if you need somethin' else," Breda offered. "I still got an apple, some chocolate." He lifted something wrapped in tinfoil out of his bag. "Whatever this was supposed to be once…"
"Gross, man." Havoc leaned away from Breda's desk opposite his own. He flinched away when Breda moved the rotten food closer, swaying it towards Havoc, who squirmed with disgusted noises. Fuery grimaced on Havoc's behalf, Falman smiled with amusement while Riza only tutted to herself. They all froze when Roy giggled.
He stared up with big eyes, all gazes having landed on him. He was about to hide under Riza's waist cape when the others laughed too.
"If ya ever need advice from someone mature, better ask me," Havoc told him.
"Yeah, right," Breda scoffed, receiving a kick under the table, now that the putrefactive tinfoil had disappeared again.
"Would you rather go home with me or him?" Havoc challenged, seeing as Roy hadn't retreated. They watched as he considered the question, the sandwich in both hands. He let go with one hand to point at Riza. "Nah, I mean if you'd have to decide between us?" Havoc gestured from himself to Breda. Roy only repeated his action. "Why? What's she got that I don't?" Havoc crossed his arms.
"I like pretty ladies," Roy said in his angel's voice.
Havoc burst into a grin, then into laughter when Riza briskly got to her feet. Retreating to the shelf in Havoc's back, she busied herself with retrieving incomplete forms. And hiding her blush, he knew.
"Sorry, Mrs Havoc, you might be exuding femininity but you're just really not pretty," Breda lamented his friend.
"Oi!" Havoc was still laughing. His expression softened when he saw that Roy was smiling too, finally thawing. "Hey," Havoc leaned down, lowering his voice, "is her cooking any good— ow!" He winced when Hawkeye dropped a considerable stack of documents on his head.
"Back to work," she dryly said.
She was about to return to her superior's desk when he stopped her in her tracks.
Roy was trying to climb the chair of an empty desk – Riza's. Where Havoc expected her to scold Roy, at least tell him off – not at all used to her soft side yet – Riza surprised the team as she wordlessly picked Roy up and set him into the chair. She scooted it close to the desk so that he wouldn't fall.
They all somewhat held their breaths when Roy put the sandwich on the desk. Short legs arranged themselves to kneel upright. He reached out to where Riza had placed her documents. She read his every wish off his eyes, handing him a few files.
Havoc frowned when Roy beckoned for him to lean down again. Puzzled, he obeyed.
"Back to work!" Roy repeatedly smacked Havoc's arm with the files. Giggling, setting the others off as well, Roy kept going despite the look Havoc was giving him.
In the place of telling him to stop, Riza traded a small stack of empty paper for the files in Roy's hands so that he could keep on enjoying himself. He did, slapping Havoc's arm over and over with impish delight until the latter resigned to his paperwork.
"I'm leaving you in charge then," she told Roy. He beamed up at her, chest swelling proudly. "Don't forget your sandwich." She went back to the Colonel's desk, but her eyes stayed on Roy for another moment.
Breda leaned back in his chair with a smile. "You're so motherly with him," he commented.
She fiercely ignored it.
"You said she's pretty, huh?" Havoc used his chance of the nearly re-established working atmosphere broken.
Roy nodded. "Almost as pretty as my mama."
"Nahw." Havoc wanted to reach out and pat that little head but reminded himself that it was still his commanding officer – in a way. "Bet your mama doesn't like having such tough competition."
"My mama's dead," Roy said.
Havoc fell silent, somewhat dumbfounded. The others ceased writing. They exchanged unsure glances.
Her chair creaked where Riza got up. Her steps' haste spoke of alarm, but when she crouched down next to Roy's chair, her voice was gentle and calm. "You said your mama wore pretty dresses. Would you show me?"
From the drawer of her desk, she took the few coloured pens they had around the office. Fuery immediately searched his own drawer, surrendering another colour across the desks. Havoc grimaced apologetically, trying to have Riza catch his gaze but she was focused on Roy.
To Havoc's surprise – it just wouldn't end that day – Roy didn't start crying. He took the offered pens. They all held their breaths until he started drawing, growing more unsatisfied with the limited array of colours the more elaborate his drawing became. Riza was smiling again, sadly but softly, her hand remaining on his back while he explained his mother's favourite dresses.
She left him be when he went on with doodling Hayate, military uniforms, even a car as far as Havoc could tell.
Finally in a good mood then, Roy resumed exploring the office. He deemed below the desk a decent hiding spot, giggling to himself in the dark. It made the others trade grins. He wrenched open drawers and dug out long-forgotten paperclips from beneath furniture.
He lined up his every finding on the edge of the desk where Riza sat. Havoc watched the smile form on her lips whenever a tiny hand appeared to display a dusty pin or linty staple. She guarded his treasures until he returned with the next ones, or so their unspoken agreement seemed to be.
When at some point he was becoming whiny, Riza told him to take a nap. The others had brought them lunch; he was bound to be tired after his meal, not to mention the countless new impressions he had gathered.
Roy sauntered over to the couch but stopped before climbing up. "I can't sleep alone…" he mumbled. Havoc could hear the pitiful quivering of his lower lip.
Riza kept writing, the frown lacing her brows telling of the inner turmoil she had with not hurrying to fulfil his every request.
Roy turned. Sure enough, there was the pout. He was good at it. "Come cuddle me?" His voice went up but it didn't sound like a question.
Riza let out a silent sigh. "I still have work to finish," she cautiously excused. She had made up excuses for him all day, her own sounding not even a fraction as firm.
"How about a song, Lieutenant?" Havoc threw her a grin, being ignored.
"Just no more stories – she's so bad at telling stories," Roy whispered too loudly for the purpose of fulfilling a whisper.
Riza shot him a glare. Breda, Havoc and Falman snorted as quietly as they could to stay under her radar.
Instead of looking caught or sorry, Roy kept on pouting now that he had her attention. "Please, Miss Riza?" he used his most well-behaved, adorable voice.
"You can sleep on your own," Riza managed through tight lips. "I'm still in the same room."
Not ten minutes later, Riza was still at her superior's desk. Roy was nowhere near the couch. The team had stifled their snickering, yet amused glances continued to flash from one to the other. Between the scratching of her pen on paper, eyes focused on work, Riza's hand occasionally strayed away from the desk. Whenever she thought that no one was looking, she gently stroked down the back of the boy slumbering in her lap.