Chapter 10 - Demons of the Past

Breda hurried slightly as he entered the office. Havoc sat up straight at his desk. Breda turned the key jerkily, slowly as he locked the door behind him. He was trying to be quiet, he really was, but every single movement he made screamed urgency. It made Havoc nervous.

"Where's Fuery?" Breda tiptoed over to Havoc's desk, sinking into Fuery's chair.

"Already on dog duty. I told him to keep Hayate at his place – I was plannin' on…" He hesitated. Rolling his lip between his teeth, he glanced over to the couch.

It was well past eight, headquarters nearly empty. Still, they had to wait if they wanted to be sure. Roy did not seem too bothered by their constant nerve-wrecking conspiring. His back rose and fell peacefully, visible only because Riza had her arms slung around him like a parachute harness, which now rose in the rhythm of his breathing. Strapped to herself, she kept him concealed between the backrest of the couch and herself.

Just like the day before, she had gone out like a light. Both at noon as well as now.

"Good, good," Breda failed to interpret Havoc's muttering, "but wait 'till you get a load of this!" He slapped a stack of papers onto the desk. Havoc had hardly plucked his cigarette from his mouth when Breda was already parting the decoy stack, revealing a small envelope. A letter from Hughes. "I don't know how they pulled it off, but the transport of the alchemist has been delayed."

"Already?!" Havoc gripped the desk unbelievingly.

"Yeah! Until in four days."

"I knew we could trust Hughes."

"And the Major." Breda sounded surprised.

"Did you notice how Hughes calls Hawkeye by her first name?"

"Focus," Breda laughed lightly.

"It wasn't even that, more like a nickname. And then he had that look when he said 'last time'—"

"Amestris to Havoc – I was just about to tell you that I also went to see the alchemist," Breda hissed. Quite effectively, it shut Havoc up. "He has conditions."

"Of course he does."

"And I'm beginning to think threatening bloody murder will be easier…" Breda cringed hopelessly. "He seriously expects us to—"

Both held their tongues when there was a huge gasp. Their first reflex was to look at the door. Still shut, still locked.

Another gasp, this time quicker, chokingly, then again, until Roy whimpered. Havoc pulled a face, unsure what to do. Breda exchanged a glance with him. He got up, but before he had reached the couch, Riza stirred.

Releasing her grip, she began rubbing Roy's back. He sobbed into her, muffled and pitiful, each stroke along his spine luring out another whimper. A nightmare, Havoc speculated. He wondered if Roy had already had any since having parts of his soul taken; how often Riza had had to rouse in the middle of the night and soothe her haphazardly adopted child.

"I'm here," she shushed him softly. "You were asleep."

"There was fire," Roy sniffled.

"Fire?" Riza asked gently.

He nodded into her chest. "Fire everywhere. It burned sand and buildings and people."

Riza stiffened.

"They died; they died screaming and burning. No one did anything. They just burned. Died and burned." Roy gasped for breath.

Havoc's guts twisted when he saw how Riza's nearly stilled breathing made a tiny jolt.

"I was… I didn't do anything either," Roy continued. "I just watched. I saw their faces, I saw everything. They were so close to me and they screamed." He covered his ears as if the wails kept echoing in is head.

Alchemy wasn't perfect, Havoc thought to himself. Roy was definitely still twelve, but some memories must have gotten mixed up or resurfaced too soon. Judging by the look on Riza's face, it couldn't be anything but memories of the war.

"Was that me?" Roy asked.

Riza sighed. Holding him tighter, she sat them both up.

He shuffled his legs beneath himself, cowering next to her. "Was I really there? Did that happen?"

She hesitated. Her voice was soft when she spoke, dripping thickly with remorse. "It did."

Breda froze a little where he stood, looking very much as if he did not only want to retreat from the couch but leave the room altogether. Havoc on the other hand felt his ears perk. He had never heard her talk about the war, not about anything that wasn't a known fact at least. He strained to listen, her words coming as mere whisps of wind.

"We both served in the Ishvalan Civil War. There were many casualties, mostly on the Ishvalan side."

"Why wasn't I helping them? Or am I only remembering the bad part? Why do I remember this at all?" Roy sniffled. He had ceased playing with the hem of his trousers, now clutching Riza's uniform.

Her forehead creased unhappily. "You weren't allowed to help. We served the other side."

"And was ours… the good side?"

Havoc couldn't help but shrink back. It was hard to decide which one of them was being the braver one at that moment.

She would tell him that there were no sides, that everyone had tried to survive the war or simply followed orders. And presently, Roy was not to blame for anything. He was a child.

Havoc held his breath when after a brief pause, Riza's eyes overshadowed.

"No."

A State Alchemist examination.

First, that lunatic of an alchemist lured them into a trap, murdering innocent soldiers for his science, stealing part of the Flame Alchemist's soul, and now he was demanding them – Roy's team and closest friends – to arrange a State Alchemist examination for him. He must have known that he was sentenced to prison or worse in Central, so how could he expect them to defy the Fuhrer's will and on top of that, send him to said Fuhrer for an exam?

Havoc lit another cigarette. He carried an ashtray, but he didn't mind the smoke trailing behind him through the corridors. Headquarters was empty safe for the guards of the lock-up in the basement. "Ridiculous," he spat under his breath. They were done for. There was no way they could arrange an appointment – any appointment – for a convicted criminal. The man was yet to be taken to Central for his sentence, but he was as good as condemned. Amestris wasn't exactly a forgiving country.

With no one around, no windows open and the street noise far away where he wandered down the hall of the second floor, Havoc could hear Roy's small voice on the other side of the office door. He waited another moment until his cigarette was done. Hawkeye would only reprimand him not to smoke 'around the child' again.

"…aunt and sisters didn't…" and "…walk home from school…" were the bits Havoc understood. So then Roy had a family. Riza had told them what Roy had said that first day in hospital. How he must have been in an orphanage with no one choosing him. Either aunt and sisters referred to people at the orphanage or he had been picked up eventually, at least before turning twelve.

With the signature knock, Havoc announced himself. Roy's voice died down, but resumed almost right after Havoc had closed the door. Turning away, not least because Riza would otherwise see the accumulating ashes in the tray, Havoc smiled to himself. He would have never thought his boss of all people to have been such a bubbly, trusting child.

"Then there was a boy, maybe my age but shorter."

"Did he have blond hair?" Riza had to smile a little at what she knew would be seen as an insult to Edward.

Roy nodded animatedly when she drew a line down her shoulder to indicate the braid. "You know him too? He was doing Alchemy in front of uniform people and was all—" Roy moved his hands wildly, imitating swishing noises where Edward had transmuted a spear from the ground.

"That must have been his State Alchemist examination." Riza's tone sounded heavier now, concerned.

Edward's examination was not yet a whole year ago. In other words, Roy had nearly been his true age at the time. First memories of the war and now this… Havoc frowned his lips uneasily.

He still had to tell Riza about the Sucking-Life Alchemist's demand.

"You were there too, well not there," Roy went on, oblivious of their tribulations, "but in another memory. Outside. There was a lake with a jetty." Roy gestured a straight line.

When Riza didn't say a word to help Roy this time, Havoc peered over the bag he was pretending to be packing. The more Roy retold, she more she looked like a ghost.

"And there were rowdies. One of them tossed you into the water and I really mean," he gestured step by step, "picked you up and hauled you in. You didn't scream but I punched him anyway and he punched me back and that's all I remember." He tilted his head pensively. "Your hair was short and you were a lot younger."

"Thanks," Riza said dryly, but the discomfort was still plainly evident on her features.

Roy looked at her quizzically.

"You just called me old."

"But you are," Roy said.

Riza pursed her lips.

"How old are you?"

"Twenty-three."

"Which is…" He began counting on his fingers.

"Almost double your age, I know," Riza sighed. "Thank you for reminding me then." She lured out a grin from him that she couldn't return.

"Did I get beaten up that day?" He insisted when she so clearly would have preferred talking about ages instead. "You can swim, right?"

"I do. I'm the one who taught you." This time, Riza smiled, smirked almost.

Havoc held his breath. He wasn't packing his bag anymore, he was perfectly still, halfway hidden behind the bag on his desk, listening with great curiosity.

"Woah, really? Cause I can't."

"You will can."

Roy giggled. "So what happened? Will I really know you, I mean, did I really know you back then?"

"You did. You were fifteen when we met, and I didn't like you one bit." She grinned.

Roy's eyes sparkled with impish delight. "But you still taught me?"

"Not until we were older. I was trying to avoid you for at least a year."

"You were being shy!" Roy sang gleefully.

She only smiled knowingly, not bursting his bubble of superiority. He was finally in a good mood again, the war almost forgotten. Even the time seemed forgotten, his energy replenished after their longer evening nap.

"So did they beat me up?" He caught Riza off guard.

She blinked at him, then focused her gaze elsewhere. "You… took a hit," she reluctantly returned to the topic. He watched her with big eyes. Unable to supress another sigh, Riza gave in. She drew him closer to her with an arm around his back, her other hand wandering to his hair, stroking it out of his face. "I pulled you into the water and they didn't follow."

"Never again?"

"Not when you were around." The words came slowly, as if she had to forcefully drag them across her tongue and past her teeth.

By now, Roy noticed how discontent she was about revisiting the past. "I protected you," he whispered. She smiled mildly, then more when he dropped his head to her shoulder. "I'll protect you now too, Miss Riza."

"Oh." Riza frowned fiercely, softly. The fingers running through his hair went to enclose his head, holding him to her. He returned the embrace, wrapping his arms around her. "Thank you," she gave a squeeze, "but there's no need for that. What kind of a bodyguard would I be if you had to protect me?" She smiled kindly when he detached himself enough to stare at her.

"I thought you were a Lieutenant."

"I am." She couldn't help brushing through his hair again. "I am also your bodyguard. First and foremost actually."

"But I'm older than you. Was. Will be…?"

"Older, stronger, not wiser." She nudged him playfully. "More important though. But even you don't have eyes in your back. That's what I'm here for." She turned her head away when having to yawn. It infected him immediately. "How about we get out of here? I could use a proper mattress."

"And dinner!" Roy cheered.

Riza let out a quiet laugh. "It's already—" In search of the clock, her gaze got stuck on Havoc where he sat, mute and unmoving. She narrowed her eyes, but it wasn't enough for a glare. She was entirely too tired. "Come on." She nudged Roy, meaningfully this time. He only glanced at Havoc, unbothered, then slid off the couch.

Once Roy had disappeared in the restroom, Havoc didn't waste a minute to inform Riza about the alchemist's conditions.

The colour drained from her face. "How in the world does he think we can pull that off? Anyone for that matter," Riza huffed after a moment of being rendered speechless. "I cannot imagine a soul apart from the Fuhrer himself…"

"Hughes and the Major already got us this far."

"'This far' being a few days of delay. The man is still to be put into prison for the rest of his life – if he is lucky."

"I don't know if you can call the Central Amestrian Prison 'lucky'," Havoc grouched. Both harked when they heard the flush. "Anyway," Havoc lowered his voice, "we need to come up with something. And if it's only finding an excuse to accompany the convoy and improvise from there. If the guy believes we can do it, he might return the Colonel's soul just before the imaginary exam."

"He'd never do that."

"And if we told Central? The Colonel's the Flame Alchemist; they'll want him—"

"We can't risk them knowing," Riza hissed. Havoc winced at the intensity in her eyes. They weren't threatening, they were terrified. "They might conduct whatever sick experiments on him that they see fit. They could provoke the alchemist or make him drop the phial. No." She put a hand to her temple. "No, absolutely not. We'll—" She paused when Roy emerged. "We'll think of something else."

And with that, Havoc watched slightly stupefied how Roy took Riza's hand as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

"Hayate is still at the Sergeant's place, so we can go to bed the moment we get home," she told Roy as they retrieved her bag from the office.

"No dinner?" Roy unpacked his puppy-dog eyes.

She nodded tiredly. "Of course, yes. Something quick then." She grabbed her bag and uniform jacket, waiting for Havoc to do the same. "Is soup okay with you?"

"Mhm." Roy beamed. "What were you talking about?"

"Work."

"What kind of work?"

"The kind you won't like."

"Was it about me?" he persisted. He wasn't only asking smarter questions, he had gotten better at reading the mood. Or perhaps merely at reading Riza. She hadn't gotten any better at rejecting him, much less at distracting off unwanted topics.

Havoc's brows rose anyway when Riza confirmed without much resistance.

"Hey, I have a question," Havoc intervened. She wasn't sending any help-seeking glances, but since Riza never sent help-seeking glances or asked for assistance when she so clearly needed it, he decided to step in. That, and he had gotten genuinely concerned. He had to ask before it was too late. "You were being bullied?" He dodged instead, not quite having summoned enough courage.

She didn't answer, waiting for him to spy down the hall to make sure that no one had returned to the Command Centre or broken in.

"It's just hard to imagine, is all," Havoc mumbled as they went on. "I mean, not just how anyone would dare bully you, but why."

The hallways were silent and empty. Their boots clacked quietly.

Riza hesitated. Roy watched her expectantly in Havoc's stead who avoided her gaze at all costs. She didn't speak up until they had reached the car and the engine buzzed to life. "I… was a bit of a weird kid, I suppose. Well, no, not me." She pulled out of the parking spot. "And my father wasn't either, only he was… estranged from the village, perhaps…"

"And they projected that onto you," Havoc said from the backseat.

Of course, Roy was next to her – somewhere she could throw herself over him in the unlikely event of an attack. Roy meanwhile peeked at her from under the coat he was obliged to wear to blend in with the seat.

"Are you okay?" Havoc leaned forward. "This is some serious stuff. It's never too late to talk, you know."

"I've been to war, Lieutenant Havoc," Riza dryly said. "And we will most certainly not unravel any childhood sob stories of mine."

"Miss Riza," Roy quietly piped up. Her eyes flashed over to him before she focused back on the road. He fumbled with the sleeve of the coat. "Did I chain you to me because you felt I could protect you back then? Do you feel indebted to me 'cause of that? Is this why you followed me into the war?" he asked into utter silence.

Riza didn't say anything. It seemed as if she wasn't breathing either. Havoc, too, held his breath, watching in the mirror how her shrunken pupils flashed across the street. Never had he seen her so openly shocked; actually physically unable to mask it behind the usual professionalism. That was how precisely Roy had hit the nail on the head.

"I feel the same way," Roy whispered.

Riza drew a breath then, shaking her head. "I think the two of us need our sleep."

"But I'm not tired…" Roy muttered.

"Could you stop the car for a second?" Havoc cut in. He'd seen enough to build up his courage. She needed help, even if she wouldn't like it. "Please, Hawkeye."

She let out a breath for what must have been the tenth time that evening. Not before checking the deserted street left and right did she slow down and halt close to the pavement. The two of them got out. Havoc took note of how Riza leaned against the car the moment she stood, muscles weary.

"Did you want to switch drivers? I can get us home," she said, almost defensively.

He shook his head. "We can, sure, but that's not—"

"Roy, shut the door," Riza scolded without turning. The passenger door closed again. Havoc hadn't even noticed. Sensing that he would need more than a second to discuss whatever was on his mind though, Riza crossed her arms. He copied her.

"You're an orphan, right?" He evaded once again, not knowing why. It might have been the way she kept on being attentive, kept on hearing things that passed him by. Whenever he thought he was focused and doing a good job, she had to prove him wrong – she was just that dedicated to her superior officer.

"Pardon?" Riza erased his doubts with how thickly her tone drooped with tiredness. The minute Roy wasn't concerned, she tuned out.

"I, uh," Havoc hesitated. "I don't wanna open old scars or anything, and you don't have to answer if it's too private…" But he got you good and you must know why, too! The voice in his head yelled. The way her brows were rising with each of his words didn't help his confidence in the slightest. He hurried to continue. "I think the Colonel mentioned that your parents are both deceased. Can I ask when that happened?"

"Oh," Riza's features relaxed. She must have expected something worse, intriguing him. "I was six when my mother passed away, and my father died ten years later. Why?"

"So then you lived with your father?"

"Yes."

It almost amused him how relieved she seemed. It was a relief to him too – how something so severe didn't seem to upset her anymore. What had she expected he would ask?

"Why the sudden interest in my past?" She glanced at him from the side, remembering his questions earlier.

"I thought you'd have been younger." Havoc shrugged helplessly. She frowned, so he stammered, "It's just that I… well—" He grimaced, expecting a quick death. "Do you think you might see yourself in the Colonel? Like, in his situation right now – orphaned, left with little but one guardian."

Stunned, Riza tensed. Havoc failed to catch her eyes when she muttered, "Any of us would have taken him in."

"Of course, yes, I know, but I think maybe this could be getting too…" Havoc wrung his fingers to fists. "Look, I'm just worried about you. That it might actually open old wounds."

"Like you are doing now?" She still wouldn't look at him.

"Am I?"

She let her shoulders sink. "No, it's alright."

He moved into her field of view, trying to catch her eyes. Now or never. "Don't you think it would be a good idea to take turns? For an afternoon maybe?"

"Is that really your goal or is there something else?" Riza's gaze snapped up, then retreated to the street. He realised how she was not only avoiding him, but watching their surroundings. Of course, she was.

"They work you like a horse for the Colonel's absence and you look a bit on the corpse side – excuse my language – so in all honesty: yes. I really want to help you. More than just sneaking you guys in and out of headquarters." There, he said it. And it had sounded every bit as sincere as he had wanted it to; she had to say 'yes'!

Riza shook her head. "Moving him about over the day is too risky."

That was halfway giving in, Havoc decided, his resolve spurred. "Then the day and night."

The corners of her mouth curved downwards as drastically as the Colonel's enthusiasm about paperwork.

"Only the night?" Havoc bargained. "I mean, you can stay over too." He didn't want to intrude in her place all the time. "Then you can lie down and have someone else cook for once and entertain the goofball," he said with a grin over his shoulder into the car. And winced away. Roy was staring at them intensely, as if any second, his eyes would drill through the windows, his ears the size of an elephant.

"And you say I'm attached…" Riza grumbled.

"I like children," Havoc shrugged. "We're all decent babysitters, I believe, and we will come up with a plan together, but if you don't get a good night's sleep for once… and can't focus…" He circled his palm.

"Fine." Riza pushed off the car. "But only because I really don't feel up to cooking and the boy needs to eat." Wanted to eat was more like it. He had had dinner, but she wouldn't refuse his wishes.

Havoc made for the driver's seat. "Do you want to pick up some—"

"We have everything we need in the car," Riza said, her speech starting to slur at the prospect of rest alone.

He should have known. The woman was probably prepared to grab Roy and drive him out of the country. The car must have been equipped with at least a week's worth of clothing, food and what not in case of emergency. For that boy, she would leave all she'd ever had – her belongings, her job, her friends.

It was why Havoc didn't question the way she simply sat down in the passenger seat, nearly nodding off against the window, Roy planted safely on her lap as they made their way to Havoc's place.