Chapter 6 - Back to the Scene

She couldn't have left him, she simply couldn't have. Even now that the car's engine buzzed lowly, streetlamps flashing by in the pitch-black early morning, even now that they were heading out, heavily armed and afraid of the unknown they would have to face, she wouldn't reconsider.

Hayate could take care of himself in an emergency, and so could Fuery. They could protect one another in the unlikely event of Riza's flat being searched.

Roy, she would protect herself. Somehow.

Guiltily, Riza refused to look at him where he gazed out the window.

The others must have known about her resolve, never asking more than once if she perhaps thought it a better idea not to bring a six-year-old on a mission. She couldn't tolerate being far away from him; she would protect him, even if it meant bringing him into potential peril.

Peril was becoming a whole lot more likely when Havoc slowed the car.

"Looks like a roadblock," he muttered to Breda.

"No, look, it's a barrier. They sealed up the entire street out of town."

"We might outrank them, we have to try," Riza said from the backseat. "They don't have to know where we're headed." She stole a glance at Roy.

They had to hide him. He met her eyes, understanding. Stealing one last curious gaze out the windscreen, merely spots of people visible in the headlights, he went to cower as far under the front seat as he could, shielded by Riza's legs. It was dark out, so she made him blend in with the floor by covering him with a black coat.

"On second thought," Breda said, "put that back on. We'll go with plan Delta." He shrugged his own coat over his shoulders, concealing his uniform. Havoc tucked his sleeves over his wrist to do the same. Riza narrowed her eyes at the figures up ahead. That wasn't military police. Chances were high that they would not recognise the three at all.

"Just don't answer them; pretend you're too tired," Breda told Roy as Riza let him crawl back up onto the seat next to her. Havoc's eyes flashed to the rear vision-mirror when their now youngest team member didn't only do as he was instructed, but went over the top by cuddling into Riza's side. Using his every chance, the little rascal. In a way, he wasn't too different from his adult version.

"It's early enough to believe he's asleep," Havoc found himself defending Roy. Breda glanced over his shoulder. Riza ignored the way he grinned, focusing on the men at the barrier.

Made from gnarly branches, the barrier was clearly recently put into place. Freshly dug-up, moist earth piled in small heaps around the posts. Makeshift, just like the clothes of the men standing beside them. They were armed, but they must have been hired privately since they didn't have a uniform dress code.

Havoc cranked down the window. The engine hummed quietly, never turned off in case he had to floor it.

"We're already running late after the police helped us with that flat tyre incident last night. They didn't say anything about a roadblock. I hope it's nothing severe, officer?" he asked before either of the men had the chance to send them away immediately.

Mentioning the police and calling the strangers their colleagues was the best option they had, Riza had to admit. Accepting whatever authority the men were pretending to hold.

They couldn't play ranks and risk being reported to headquarters. The military was possibly a bigger threat than these pseudo-constables.

A 'family' on a trip didn't exactly qualify for important business out of town, but whoever these people worked for, if they deemed Team Mustang harmless enough… It was a gamble; a slim chance to avoid having to creep through the woods and across the open fields for hours.

The sky was starting to brighten.

"You gotta turn around, mister," one of the guards said.

Riza scratched her back to unsuspiciously reach for her gun. 'Mister' was a dead giveaway that the man had nothing to do with the military or the military police.

Havoc gave the stressed family father everything he got. "Turn around?" he echoed with disbelief. "But this is the quickest route to the main road. Crikey, we'll be late for Doloris' funeral." Careful not to let his uniform show, he tapped his wristwatch.

"You'll have to find another way."

"Please, officer, it's only a good three kilometres to the exit."

"Oh, leave it, he's probably not in charge to make decisions," Breda waved off.

Something flickered across the stranger's eyes. The two men exchanged glances, unsure how to respond. Of course, they liked to think they were not just pawns following orders, but they obviously had orders. Pride was a gamble too, perhaps one that might work.

The second man shook his head. "Turn around—"

"Are we there yet?" Roy piped up from the back seat.

Havoc stiffened. Riza's hand tightened on the gun under her coat.

"Are we at Grandma's? Can I go play now? Did she make lunch?" Roy looked at the two men with puzzlement, then at Havoc. "Why did you stop? Aren't we there yet?" He stood up on the bench, grabbing Havoc's seat to peer around it. "Who are they? Why aren't we driving? You said I get to see Grandma – what happened to her?"

"Sit down." Riza worriedly wrapped her arm around his chest to pull him back.

"But I…" he sniffled. Breda's eyes flashed to Havoc's, neither sure what to do anymore. "I want to see Grandmaaaa!" Roy started crying.

The men winced – both in- and outside the car. Riza tugged Roy into the seat but he kept wailing at full blast. When his whining turned into screeching and hammering his tiny fists against the window, one of the men stepped back.

Havoc almost laughed when the barrier was lifted and the car waved through.

The second they had cranked up the windows, Roy stopped abruptly.

"Well done," Riza praised.

Roy beamed a proud smile at her.

"No way," Havoc gave an unbelieving, amused huff.

"Don't worry," Roy nodded seriously, "we made plans too." His eyes shone at Riza, his chin tilting up in anticipation of rewarding head scratches.

"I'll say," Breda snickered. "You're in mission mode."

"I didn't even bring my jammies!" Roy proudly declared. He lifted a finger to lecture them, standing on the bench. "Because on a mission, you must always be ready to move outside."

"Move out," Riza gently corrected. She took him by his sides, placing him next to her to sit. He merrily dangled his legs that were nowhere near reaching the floor of the car.

"You really did plan this through," Havoc said when Riza handed him and Breda gloves. He turned off the headlights. Their destination was close.

"Starting with the second pair of license plates the Colonel has," Breda confirmed, slipping on the gloves. He gave a sound of discontent when rain started pattering the roof of the car. "That's not ideal…"

"Neither is this," Havoc nodded his head forward. They peered into the foggy morning greyness. The rain was neither improving their limited visibility, nor their attempts of approaching quietly with the windscreen wipers squeaking and the tyres splashing.

There was the building. A strangely high building for being made entirely out of wood. Its somewhat rectangular shape reached just below the surrounding treetops, casting a vast yet mild shadow with the sun mostly hiding behind the clouds. Three storeys high. The upper one crooked from the rest.

Black figures moved about at the foot of the building. They didn't look as if they were guarding the place until one of them spotted the car.

Havoc parked next to a massive stack of cutdown trees.

"Military police," Breda observed. "So now it's time to play ranks."

Roy crawled under the bench, Riza's coat concealing him. Breda got out alongside them, then pretended to have left something in the car, going around to the steering wheel. He hunched over the seat, digging for the alibi paper and pen they had prepared for him to seem busy. Someone had to stay behind with Roy.

It itched Riza to just pick Roy up and carry him everywhere she went but she had no choice. She knew most about alchemy out of all of them, and Havoc was their best asset on the field next to her.

They nodded at the military police officers as they passed them. The stars on Riza's epaulettes were enough to make them remain quiet. Now they only had to pray that no one recognised them personally. Breda spied over the rim of his 'paperwork', watching the two disappear inside the building.

In the end, they had opted not for the destruction of the entire floor, but a disfigurement of the circle. If they got rid of enough crucial elements – sometimes replacing them, sometimes erasing them, sometimes merely making it look as if they had been altered – the array would be useless. Of course, the military could have already taken their notes, but their mission was to fulfil the crazed alchemist's wishes. What he didn't know wouldn't hurt him…

Breda knew though that if breaking into the military archives and destroying records would be required to get the Colonel's soul back, Riza would do it without batting an eye. Without heed to the consequences of being court‑martialled or worse.

His nonsensical scribbling became more agitated the longer they took. If there were officers up on the top floor, how would Hawkeye and Havoc make them leave? No way in hell could they start effacing with witnesses.

One of the military police officers exited the building – a good sign. Breda let his gaze sink to his sheet of paper to give the illusion of reading, when something caught his eye. Another officer had appeared. He sauntered over from the border of the woods, unaffected by the abating rain, zipping his fly where he must have relieved himself. A uniform jacket was slung over his shoulder. He slipped through the sleeves, clumsily fiddling with the front to close it.

It was blue.

The sun was puncturing the clouds here and there, the fog clearing only slowly, but that top of the uniform was definitely blue. The epaulettes bore a single stripe – Lance Corporal – yet the trousers were black. There was no way the military would ever spare expenses when it came to properly equipping their officers, no matter how low rank.

"Stay here and stay quiet," Breda murmured, covering the movement of his mouth with the sheet of paper. "I'm gonna go pick them up." He tried hard to ban all urgency from his tone but he knew he wasn't fooling Roy entirely. If Roy noticed, he didn't say anything. He was being very good for someone who couldn't properly keep a secret.

Breda got out of the car. Showing the imposters no rush, he nonchalantly stuffed his hands into his pockets. Puddles had formed, his boots splashing across the soaked ground.

The three men regarded him closely. Breda saluted, then passed without a word. They let him. The fact that they didn't salute back was the last straw. These people had nothing to do with the military or the military police.

Breda stopped briefly in the entrance, adjusting his boot where mud had sucked on it.

"… think they know?"

"… just abandon…"

"No, we'll do it like last time."

Breda thought to have heard the third man say. He had to get the others out of there and now.

He climbed the creaky stairs with growing haste. He wanted to cuss when there was another officer in front of the shut door of the top floor. They must have had to kick him out somehow. Not exactly unsuspicious.

The man narrowed his eyes at Breda but didn't stop him from entering and closing the door.

Riza glanced up where she was kneeling on the floor. Chalk was smeared across her fingers. They hovered over a newly written symbol Breda had never seen before.

Not a trace of relief was in her gaze, not even when she recognised him.

The loading lever of Havoc's gun clicked. Having stood behind the door, he pointed the barrel at the ceiling when seeing it was Breda who had entered.

"Turns out we do have to participate in today's training exercise," Breda loudly announced. Then he lowered his voice, the others gathering around. "They're not from the military; they must have stolen the uniforms. We need to leave now."

"Where's the—" Riza bit her tongue when there was a honk outside. She jumped out of her skin. "That was the Colonel." Her face drained off colour.

"Alright, new plan—" Havoc said. But Riza rushed off, her boots flying down the stairs. "Shit," he cursed. Another honk, and another. With his gun drawn, Havoc led the way after her.

The officer wasn't on the stairwell anymore. No time to check the other rooms. Roy must have seen the men prepare their assault, honking in warning.

Bang! A shot rang out.

Havoc stumbled the last few steps. He halted abruptly in the doorway leading outside. His heart was drumming fiercely in his ribcage.

Riza had shot one of the fake officers. The man had been staring into their car. Now he slid down, his body splattering the soggy ground, unmoving. Riza somewhat threw herself onto the hood of the car, trying to see, then wrenched open the passenger door. She called Roy's rank, his name, but there was no reply.

Havoc halted halfway across the mud when something above him creaked. A window.

"Miss Riza!"

His attention snapped forward. Roy was crawling out from in between the cut‑down tree trunks. He ran towards Riza. Her arms outstretched as she hastened to meet him.

"Watch out!" Havoc yelled.

Bang!

Bang!

Two shots pierced the air. Havoc gasped, then again when his target up above in the window collapsed. There was no sign of the remaining men anywhere. He studied the other windows. Shut. Silent. Birds fled the surrounding trees.

Breda started the engine of the car. Havoc blinked at the empty seats.

The car rolled up to where Riza still was, hunched over Roy, shielding his small body with her own. Blood seeped into the thick wool on the arm of her uniform.

Breda halted the car between them and the building, the engine growling, eager to go.

"Come on!" Havoc opened the back door.

Riza gave a shuddering breath, then got up. She clutched Roy to herself. Disregarding her injury, she slumped into the bench with him practically smothered to her chest. Her gun clattered into the legroom.

The car blustered and jolted through the undergrowth. When the forest at last swallowed the building from sight, Riza slumped onto her back with a rasping sigh. It smeared blood across the backrest, but she paid it no mind. Her eyes were closed, arms locked around Roy like safety belts.

Breda peeled off his gloves. "They must have overwhelmed and probably killed the MPs stationed at the scene."

"Wherever they got those uniforms doesn't matter. They weren't military, so they don't know us and can't snitch on us," Havoc said with slight relief. He watched worriedly when Riza sat up after a while. She looked more and more uncomfortable, adrenaline leaving her to brave the pain of her arm.

Roy remained silent throughout the entirety of the car ride. He didn't cry, which surprised and concerned Havoc. He had to physically restrain Roy when Riza disappeared into the bathroom of their temporary hideout alone.

It was a tiny but not too shabbily equipped vacant house at the edge of Meox, the closest larger town to East City. They hadn't dared pass the barrier again, at least not on the same day. Those men must have been accomplices of the fake officers, and they had been heavier armed.

The vacant house creaked with every step. Pitter-patter above their heads told them how mice had made the space under the roof their home.

Breda crossed the main room that came with a couch and an armchair that reeked of cigar smoke. He brought a musty towel from the kitchen, rubbing his hair dry. "With one bullet used on Hawkeye and her bullet in the other guy, it'll make it look as if they had some kind of squabble going on between themselves." The rain was becoming worse again. It whipped against the windows, rattling them. "That way at least the military might think it some gang conflict where they shot each other." He handed Havoc the towel, but the latter only stared at the bathroom door.

He went to knock.

"Hey, Hawkeye, you tell if we can help, okay?" Havoc asked.

No reply. Straining to listen, Havoc finally heard a poorly supressed whimper, then a curse.

"It's alright," Riza said as unwaveringly as she could possibly manage. No doubt to reassure Roy.

He was standing on his toes, all senses directed at the closed door.

"Are you sure?" Havoc pulled a face. Involuntary rasping reached him, then nothing. His hand hovered over the doorhandle. "Just lemme know," was all he dared, "please."

He glanced down at Roy. Now there were tears standing in Roy's eyes, about to tumble down his cheeks. He was shaking.

The front door fell shut as Breda re-entered. "I brought your stuff from the car," he told Roy.

Roy didn't move, perhaps didn't hear at all.

Breda dropped Riza's bag next to the couch of the small living room. There were curtains but no carpet. An empty picture frame hung on the wall. The wallpaper was torn here and there, peeled off in the corners.

In the kitchen, the water ran red and stinking of iron for a while, rust disappearing down the scraped tin sink. Pots and pans hung from the wall, dusty but not dirty. There was a table with two chairs, and in one of the cabinets was rice and canned food. The Colonel or some secret contact of his must have stocked up at some point, only a few of the items expired.

Havoc took a towel from Riza's bag. He draped it over Roy's shoulders.

"You okay?" Crouching down didn't shift Roy's attention. Havoc pushed him a little, away from the ominous door, and asked again.

This time, he received a weak nod. "I'm worried about her…" Roy's voice came meekly, like a dead leaf drifting in the wind. With his tiny fists, he held the ends of the towel over his shoulders. He never moved it though, never dried himself properly.

"We all are," Havoc conceded, "but we also know that Hawkeye's tough – maybe the toughest of us all."

"Definitely," Breda agreed decidedly.

"She'll be fine, you'll see. Did she tell you what we're trying to accomplish?"

Roy still looked as if he hadn't listened to a word being said. His ears were trained to the bathroom door in his back, his legs shaking slightly.

He greedily gulped down the water Breda brought, then finally made an effort to stop the rain that dripped from his hair into his face and clothes.

"Turning me back into a grown‑up, right?" He met Havoc's eyes with as much understanding as there was confusion.

Havoc nodded. "It's kinda odd saying it this bluntly, but we're sorta tryin' to get our boss back for work – in our free time." He scratched his nape.

Roy lowered his gaze to his rain-squelching shoes. "She said she worked for me."

"We all do. I know your adult self is never gonna let me live this down, but we all respect you greatly. She might make it the most evident, but we all care for you no matter your age."

"And right now, you're threatening to catch a cold," Breda noted. He searched Riza's bag, having to shove several ammunition magazines aside before finding what looked like a man's shirt. "You'll do us all a favour by changing – Hawkeye will be relieved and not kill us for leaving you cold and wet."

"Can't I help her? Can't I cheer her up?" Roy's eyes shimmered, big and pleading under the moth‑attacked lamp shade dangling from the ceiling.

Havoc frowned his lips pityingly.

"I think I made her really angry…" Roy sniffled. His legs ceased shaking. They ached with tension, so he sat down on the old floorboards.

Breda tried again to give him the shirt, but Roy wasn't looking.

"I had to protect her; they were going after you with their guns, but I worried her…"

"I don't think—" Havoc's hand hadn't quite reached Roy's shoulder when there was a strangled cry of pain from the bathroom.

"Lieutenant Havoc…" Riza wheezed from behind the door.

He got up at once. Knocking, he made sure to slip in without Roy so much as catching a glimpse of the inside.

Blood ran down Riza's arm, pooling on the ground. Not enough for a perforated aorta, but splashes on the tiled floor told of a struggle. She must have tried to take out the bullet. In other words, Breda was right – it hadn't grazed her, it was stuck.

"I'm sorry, but I can't—" she brought out, breaking off into a forcefully yet not completely supressed mewl of pain. Her hand trembled above the wound, blood sticking to her palm, squirting out from between her fingers. She had torn off the sleeve of her turtleneck. It hung from her lips, muffling ragged breathing.

Havoc frowned. The dark red traces on the hem of her turtleneck betrayed how she must have taken it off before.

"You know, I can be serious and keep my kinks to myself if need be," Havoc joked lightly. He adored a woman's breasts, that much was out of the question, but if she thought he couldn't keep from ogling her cleavage at such a crucial moment – it stung a little.

Riza didn't reply, a strained wheeze all she could muster.

Cutting the humour, Havoc knelt down behind her. Tools, bandages and compresses littered the floor – most of them were stained with blood by now, but Havoc wasn't fussy. He simply hoped they had been sterile before.

The bullet was not lodged in too deeply. The aggressor must have used a small handgun from all the way up in the window. Still, the bullet had entered from behind and at an angle where Riza couldn't see or take it out herself.

Her body flinched hard when Havoc wedged pincers into the wound. He had to fumble, poke raw flesh with blood obscuring his vision. The pincers chinked dully. The bullet.

With one brutally swift move, Havoc pulled the shell out.

Riza's outcry from behind the sleeve got stuck in her throat when the doorknob turned. Before the door could open more than a slot wide, it shut again. Breda failed to speak soothingly in his haste, hustling Roy away.

Riza hunched forward, a croaking breath collapsing her lungs. She dropped the sleeve from between her teeth.

"Thank you…" she rasped.

Havoc hummed, applying the bandage in her stead. How she had managed to reach the wound in the first place was a mystery to him, but small streaks and cuts around the hole told of numerous failed attempts. He was glad to take something off her hands, especially after the shock of her not only getting injured, but barely having saved the Colonel's life.

"Also for the backup," Riza brought out, swallowing, panting.

"I'm just glad nothing worse happened," Havoc said. A single shooter, and from afar. There was no telling if Havoc had killed or injured him, or simply scared him off. "And that we finished with the circle."

"Let's hope it's enough for him," Riza somewhat spit the last word, her eyes ablaze behind tears of pain. She blinked them away, grabbed a towel and began to wipe the floor. "I'll take care of the rest. I'll have to change out of this first anyway," she told him, gesturing at her bloodied uniform.

The doorknob turned again. Breda wasn't fast enough this time.

Roy stared at the scene, mostly at Riza's bandaged arm. Holding the doorknob, on the tips of his toes, he was frozen for a moment. As was she. A tiny sob rocked his chest. It thawed her immediately. She got up as not to drag her uniform across the tiles and sully it even more.

"I'm so sorry, Miss Riza," Roy sniffled. "Are you still mad at me?"

He had hardly finished his question when she was back on her knees. Wrapping both arms around him, she all but deflated above him with a sigh.

"No," she whispered, "I'm glad you're okay."

His arms came up, fingers curling around the back of her shirt. "Me too," he mumbled into her. She tightened her embrace.

Havoc let out a breath, not having realised how he had held it until then. She was back where she had been a good two hours ago – now at least, they weren't under enemy fire.

The extremes she would go to in order to protect this man – boy or not – amazed Havoc as much as it scared him.

"Can we take a bath?" Roy piped up once she released him.

Havoc's eyes widened slightly. A smirk edged its way onto his lips. It had sounded so natural, almost as if it wasn't the first time he had asked.

Riza nodded, purposefully avoiding Havoc's and Breda's raised brows.

Havoc chuckled. "If I asked her that, she'd knock me upside the head."

"Best case scenario," Breda confirmed.

They brought Riza's bag and Roy's shirt from the couch, then closed the door. Roy watched the warm water rise, avoiding the blood Riza cleaned off the tiles and sink. He didn't ask himself why the house was vacant, or why it was supplied with water, if someone called it his home.

All he did was stare at the water, blindly, until his vision blurred and the sole thing he perceived was the slight rasping of Riza's breathing.