#riza from outside the office: its been three hours sir-

[fma-character-takes]

Headcanon that Roy had to teach Ed how to do taxes at one point and it went about as well as being in elementary school and asking your dad for help on your math homework. Like:

*three hours in*

roy: what does that say.

ed: i don’t know

roy: do you know how to read.

ed, sounding unsure: *sobbing* …YES???

roy: DO YOU KNOW HOW TO READ, FULLMETAL. WHAT DOES IT SAY.

ed, sobbing: I DON’T. KNOW.

al, sitting quietly in the back playing with the cat he smuggled in: 👁️👄👁️

alternatively trisha taught him how to do taxes before she died because she wanted him to be prepared

[flamegodess]

Let The Darkness Fall

Chapter 13 (it’s finally here)

Rating: T

Genre: Romance, royai vampire au, angst, fluff.

*Remember that you can find the other chapters if you search for the #let the darkness fall tag on my profile! Enjoy it!

Riza asked Roy to go to her school, find Rebecca and tell her that the council hasn’t hurt them and that they were alright. She didn’t want Rebecca to worry in vain about what might have happened to them so she decided that it was wise to keep her in the loop. Of course, Rebecca had noticed that her best friend wasn’t at school by then so was it a good idea to also tell her that she had been tortured? Roy suggested Riza that he could only tell Rebecca that she had felt too tired and stressed to come to school and Riza agreed. She hoped that her father hadn’t even noticed that she wasn’t at school but in fact, she couldn’t have been more wrong. “Do you happen to know why my daughter is not at school today?” Berthold decided to ask Roy who froze as he was flipping pages in a book. “She’s not at school?” he replied not lifting up his glance. He had to keep a neutral expression but he was sure he looked like someone who was caught murdering a person. “Don’t try to play dumb, Roy. Where are the two of you going during the nights?” Well damn it. He had never prepared himself for this kind of situations. He had to keep a straight face and act as if he knew nothing. “Excuse me, sir, while I might sometimes leave the house at late hours, Riza has nothing to do with this. You told me not to imply her in my stuff so... ” he said this time looking at his Master’s rigid face. He hoped that the book wouldn’t break because of his grip. The vampire powers might sometimes act unconsciously. “I won’t insist on the matter because you will clearly continue to defend her. However, you know as much as I do what kind of dangerous individuals linger outside during the nights.” Roy gulped. He was going to die. If his master wasn’t going to kill him right on the spot then he would suffer a heart attack anyway. What was dangerous individuals supposed to mean? Was there any chance that his master knew about his true nature? Then why wasn’t he killing him? It might all have been in Roy’s head. Maybe his master wasn’t referring to vampires. Maybe he was talking about the odd and dangerous people that were walking the streets picking on everybody and vandalizing buildings. There was no way he knew he was a vampire. “She is safe.” Was all he could bring himself to say then asked his master something related to alchemy trying to change the topic. --- Riza was already feeling a lot better by the evening. She even got off the bed to stretch herself even though she felt a little uneasy on her feet. She hoped she didn’t have to drink more blood. She had to prove Roy she was feeling alright. He was supposed to finish his study for the day soon. Suddenly she realized it hadn’t really been such a good idea as her feet became numb and she stumbled on the floor, a strong headache crushing upon her head. The timing couldn’t have been better as Roy entered through the window. “Are you alright?” he asked concerned and rushed towards her. “Yes, I was only stretching a little. ” she replied as he lifted her up and placed her carefully on the bed. “It looked like you were falling a little.” He said and smiled as he pressed his palm against her forehead. “I’m feeling alright, really. In fact, are you hungry?” she asked trying to change the topic and brushed her hair away from her shoulder revealing her neck. His eyes glowed a little but he shook his head not falling into her trap. “You are the one who needs blood right now.” He was ready to bite his wrist when she gripped it. “Don’t, Roy.” She whined like a kid. “Tomorrow I’ll stay home too so we don’t really need to rush my recovery.” “Oh no. Tomorrow you’re going to school. Or else your father will think that I killed you or something.” “He noticed I stayed home today?” “He also noticed we’re away during the nights.” He added and told her all her father had said.   “Maybe he is waiting for more signs...but I think it’s a coincidence.” She replied thinking deeply. “Don’t worry about that now.” He said as he bit his wrist. She didn’t object as she realized she should really go to school the next day because her relationship with Roy became suspect to her father. She put down his hand after a minute and sighed. He wiped the remains of blood from the corners of her mouth with his thumb and leaned in to kiss her forehead. “I am sorry. I’ve been extremely egoistic. Firstly, for bringing you in this dangerous side of the world and secondly, for suffering like this...for not being able to protect you. Kimblee deserves to choke to death and-” “Hey, calm down. I’m alive, aren’t I?  As for the Kimblee part, yes, he deserves to choke to death.” She agreed as she pressed herself against his solid chest. “But I had promised you that I would let no one touch you. I am terrible.” “I knew that if you had been able you would have done anything to protect me.” She murmured as she buried her head more into his chest. He wrapped his arms protectively around her and nuzzled her hair. “We have to go to Central soon. I need to find new information about who had killed my parents. But first I have to talk more to the council. They don’t really like it when vampires go slay each other.” She flinched. “You’re not going to slay any vampire. I’ve been thinking about it too. You have to develop some badass skills like other vampires before that.” She suggested, lifting her chin to look him in the eye. “That is also true...” He hummed realizing that the fact that he knew how to read someone’s mind for 2 minutes wasn’t useful at all. He needed to learn how to fight or how to develop more abilities. “Then we need to find someone to teach me these things. Hohenheim might help.” “And I’m going to stick right by your side.” She added and yawned into his shirt. “That’s all I need.” He replied and lay her gently on her back on the bed, then he crawled right beside her. - “I advise you to stay away from my student.” Of course. It was her turn to receive a speech about her relationship with Roy. “I have never done anything to him.” She answered sincerely. “I know you are deeply fond of each other, but I think you’re old and mature enough to know more about him. That if you don’t know already. But I think he might have been worried that you would indeed stay away from him if you knew that.” Riza wasn’t sure if her face was pale or crimson. Damn. He knew. She had to play dumb. In spite of Roy who wasn’t able to keep a straight face, at least she was good at poker faces. “What do you mean?” she asked and shook her head trying to seem confused. “He is a Vampire.” Riza arched an eyebrow and bit her lower lip. “I’m not following.” She said and crossed her arms. “Vampires exist. You know what a vampire is, right?” Riza tried to keep the ‚what the actual fuck’ face on as she nodded and tried to look as if she was trying not to laugh. “There’s no such thing. And I guarantee you that your student is not a vampire.” Her father looked at her thoughtfully. How to convince someone that vampires exist? “Your mother was murdered by a vampire.” Now she really didn’t need to act. Her face became pale and she stared at the ground. She didn’t know about that piece of information. “I... Don’t know what to think but if you want me to stay away from him, you should make up better stories.” She went on. “You have noticed too that he is away during the nights... I’m surprised he hasn’t turned you into its prey...yet. That’s why I’m telling you to stay away-” “Be it as you say. Roy is a Vampire.” she rolled her eyes. ”Why don’t you kick him out?” He didn’t answer. “May I tell you why?” Riza asked and went on. “Because Vampire or not he is not a monster. He is human.” And she realized she wasn’t lying at all and left the office. Damn. He knew. Roy’s life was in danger. --- Roy went down the stairs to the council. The three grandiose chairs were empty so he decided to look for Hohenheim in his office. The last time he had entered that room he had been just turned, an inexplicable anger and hunger boiling through his veins. He shivered at the thought of his uncontrollable self and knocked. “Come in, Roy. ” The old man’s voice answered. Roy was sometimes puzzled by the older vampires’ abilities. He entered and found Hohenheim sitting at his desk behind a huge pile of paperwork. “I can come later if I am disturbing you, sir.” Roy said after bowing shortly. “No worries.” He replied as he moved the papers away from his vision. “I actually did need an excuse to stop working. The Vampires' world bureaucracy works just like the one of the humans. However, I am sure you didn’t come here to hear about my complaints.” He added with an amused smile on his face as he got a pack of cigarettes out of his pocket and took one out. “I want to... Improve my vampire abilities.” He said stumbling a little upon the words. Hohenheim had the effect of intimidating the vampires even though he was the kindest of the three. “You do? Well, I’m happy you’re finally accepting your nature. ” He said and served Roy with a cigarette but he refused. “Let’s just say I am accepting it more than in the past... But yeah, I want to train these powers.” He couldn’t tell Hohenheim: I want to train my powers so I can go kill the vampires who killed my parents. But to be honest, he had started to embrace his vampire side more than usual. “Was a certain human responsible for your change of mind?” he asked and laughed shortly, looking at Roy’s embarrassed expression. “Sometimes humans have this effect on us... ” he suddenly said thoughtfully as his voice changed. “I... I think so.” Roy replied not sure what to say. For a second, the older man seemed lost through his thoughts and he realized he had no idea if Hohenheim had a feeder, a wife or a family at all. “So.” He started scanning Roy carefully with his eyes. “You mentioned before that you could read Miss Hawkeye’s thoughts, but you also mentioned that it drains a lot of your energy.” Roy nodded. “That is very normal. It takes a lot of practice to be able to read people like open books. This, other abilities and your strength indeed need to be trained. The Vampire World is a cruel one and possessing this kind of powers can be quite handy.” He explained as he opened an agenda and flipped some pages. “Since you have been a human for the most of your life, it will certainly be harder to train yourself. That’s why I’m recommending you the best sensei I know. Miss Izumi Curtis.” - After overthinking the whole afternoon, Riza fell asleep, but left the window opened in case Roy would come to her. He tried to be silent when he returned from the meeting with Hoheheim and scolded her mentally for sleeping with the window opened when the temperature was quite low. He carefully covered her with the folded blanket that lay at her feet, but she immediately opened her eyes startled. “Oh, it was you.” She said and sighed at the sight of him watching over her from the side of the bed. “And... Were you expecting someone else?” he teased and she rolled her eyes. “Remember that you’re not the only Vampire who used my window.” She replied thinking about Bridgette, who had threatened and fought with her in her own room. “Well, that’s not going to happen again. No while I’m here.” He said and went on, “I’ve got news. Good and bad. Wh-” “We’re not playing this game again. Last time we did, I ended up part of this vampire world.”                                                                                                      He smirked at her reply and lay next to her. “I found someone who can train my abilities.” “That’s good. Aaand?” she asked suspiciously turning on one side to face his profile. The bad news were coming. She felt that. “She lives in Dublith.” “Oh.” She murmured and stared at him thoughtfully. “That indeed makes the things a lot more complicated but-” “I really wanted you to come, I... I need you. Not only for your blood. If I’m starving I can murder any random human. I need the way you talk to me and the way you remind me that I’m not a monster. Your father would let me leave for a week or two, but he won’t let you. ” Realizing that she was not answering him, he turned to face her wide eyes staring into his. His sudden confession made her lose in her thoughts. He needed her. A strong immortal Vampire needed her. She shivered feeling her whole self melting under the gaze of his onyx eyes. Her hand stroked his cheek gently bringing their faces closer so their lips could meet. Rarely was she the one to initiate those intimate gestures. That’s why Roy touched her hand on his cheek and parted his lips from hers, saying: “You’re trembling.” He let go of her hand and touched her forehead. “You seem to be okay.” She blushed as his gaze seemed to see through her. “I’m just... You know... New to this thing. So while you are used to some gestures, I am not. You make me nervous. But we are deviating from the main topic-” “No no, this is way more interesting than my vampire skills.” He added with a satisfied expression upon his face. The truth was that she had always been hesitant to kisses even though he could tell she was enjoying everything he was doing to her. He tried to take her slower, but now that she was talking about it, he didn’t want her to stop. “I don’t know how to put this into words.” She went on. “It will sound childish.” “I don’t think so. Say it.” He said curiously, hearing her heart pounding loudly. “I’ve grown to like you so much that I honestly don’t know what to do. All these feelings are so new to me and I am so confused...” she stopped, couldn’t ignore the tears in her eyes anymore. He closed the distance between them and after wiping away the tears from the corner of her eyes, he hugged her tightly to his chest. “It’s okay. Hush...” he murmured. Her innocence was again puzzling him. She was crying because she felt overwhelmed with feelings. “I’ve never seen someone cry because they like me too much.” He commented thinking that it was indeed cute.  Even though her face was buried in his chest, she could tell he still had a satisfied smirk lingering on his lips. He was glad he could hear her say those words. He thought she would never say them. “It’s alright, OK? You like me, I like you, the things are flowing as they should, isn’t it?” She lifted her head to eye him. “There’s no way you’ll be alone in this. I am coming with you. I promise I will find a way to do so.”

[fullmetalscullyy]

My Every Road Leads To You - Chapter 2

Detective Roy Mustang is brought in to head the case of a high-profile kidnapping. The Hawkeye family’s daughter is being held for ransom and he is tasked with finding her before tragedy strikes.

Rated: T

Words: 1415

part 1 | part 2 - your light gets me through | part 3

read on ao3 and ffnet

and in the hour of darkness darlin'

your light gets me through

“What’s the report, Mustang?” Grumman asked tiredly. Despite his obvious worry and exhaustion, the Captain lowered himself into the chair behind his desk with his usual composure, sharp eyes watching him from behind his glasses. He hadn’t given up on this case in the last three days Roy had worked it. Grumman offered his assistance where he could, shelving all other cases, which had been approved by the Captain’s superiors.

“We’ve narrowed it down to three suspects. All male. Late twenties. Our prime suspect goes by the name Frankie Grey. He may be working as part of a group, we’re not sure yet, however we’re close to pinpointing a location. There’s no house address in any records. He’s been a drifter for a while. Havoc has been looking back on his bank records for the past few years and there was a purchase made in the warehouse district. I’ve tasked Breda with tracing the property to find out if he still owns it.”

“Why is Grey the main suspect?”

“He was spotted near Riza’s apartment building on the building CCTV the night of her disappearance. He entered around eight thirty and the cameras never picked up him leaving again, however they went down for four hours between nine and one. Riza’s neighbours mentioned a disturbance around nine o’clock.”

“Okay. Good work.”

“I’ve put Fuery and Falman on a stakeout of the warehouse. There’s been no sign of Grey moving to the property yet, however he has been making coded phone calls to two other men – Fuery managed to bug his phone using some kind of new technology,” Roy further explained. “It’s definitely suspicious, sir.”

“Can we bring him in then?”

“Not yet, sir. We don’t have any concrete evidence to warrant for an arrest.” Grumman made a frustrated sound and Roy didn’t take it to heart. “Give us another hour or two, Havoc will be able to confirm if that warehouse is his, and if that’s where we can find him.”

Grumman sighed, his exhaustion showing. “Excellent work, and sorry to take out my frustration on you. Let’s suit up.”

“Of course, sir.”

“Mustang?” Havoc called as they exited Grumman’s office. “The warehouse is Grey’s,” Havoc confirmed, approaching him with a piece of paper. “The realtor just sent this over.” Roy took it, anticipation pooling in his stomach. It was an email of the deeds Grey had signed for the property. They had finally got him. “Also,” Havoc continued. “Two months ago, he applied for planning permission with the local council and the councillor I spoke to confirmed they were still in talks with Grey to this day. In fact, he just phoned them yesterday and was rather aggressive about the fact they were withholding his progress for whatever he wanted built.”

“This is it, then,” Grumman announced.

“Yes, sir. Whether Riza is being held there or not, I’m not sure, however, I don’t imagine it would be anywhere else. The building is isolated, the main entrance out of view.”

“This must be it,” Roy muttered. He really hoped it was, however, that wasn’t how the world worked. They would have to wait for confirmation, but it was at least a start to begin searching. “He’s a definite suspect,” Roy stated to the other two detectives. “With this we can question him at least.”

“Let’s go,” the Captain commanded, expression setting into determination.

*          *          *

“Can I help you?” Grey asked, his tone betraying his irritability.

Roy and Havoc were already at the warehouse. Grumman was ten minutes out and would remain on standby, out of view, behind the building next door with a squad in case they were needed. Underneath his black overcoat, Roy was equipped with a bulletproof vest and armed to the teeth in case this went south.

They both flashed their badges. “Frankie Grey?” Roy asked. The suspect didn’t confirm or deny his identity, but Roy noticed how his grip tightened on the doorframe. He had barely opened the door, so they were unable to see into the gloom behind him, the light from outside barely able to permeate it. “Central PD,” Roy continued. “Detective Roy Mustang and Detective Jean Havoc. May we ask you some questions?” His tone was polite however Roy didn’t feel like Grey deserved it. Ever since they had arrived his expression had remained sour, offering no indication he was willing to help.

Their conversation was short and sweet, Grey answering their questions and giving an alibi as to why he was in the victim’s apartment building – something they would need to check up on.

“He’s the prime suspect,” Roy muttered as they walked away, schooling his anger. If he had his way, he would have arrested the man right now, however they were still waiting on confirmation he had taken Riza.

As if on cue, his phone buzzed in his pocket. “Mustang,” he answered.

“Roy!” Fuery called frantically. “Grey’s on the phone now,” he revealed. There was a flurry of activity in the background of the call. “He’s saying “we need to move her”.” Roy’s stomach tightened, his breathing stopping momentarily. This is it. He had already turned around, back towards the door as he reached for his gun. Without a word, Havoc removed his own weapon from its holster.

“Mustang,” Fuery urged. “She’s in there. There was a muffled woman’s scream then Grey stopped it. You need to go.”

“Get back up here, now.”

“Already here,” Grumman barked, rounding the corner. Roy had never seen such rage on his face before. With the squad composed, Roy nodded and readied himself in front of the door.

*          *          *

Roy Mustang… That name poked something in Riza’ mind, something very old. She wasn’t sure why the name was familiar, her mind frantically trying to make a connection as she shuffled in place. The handcuffs rattled against the metal and Riza cringed at the sound. Her mind took a while to kick into gear, having been stagnant for the last few days.

Riza was sure her sanity was slipping away. Between the isolation, complete darkness, and both the verbal and physical abuse she had received in the hands of her captors, it was no wonder.

But that name… It sparked something within her. There was a memory from years ago. From school? Trying to conjure up a face to go with that name yielded no results.

Riza shook herself. Now was not the time.

Regardless, he was a detective, along with this Jean Havoc. They would help her. They would get her out of here and away from him.

Hope gave her strength as she rattled the handcuffs, trying to make enough noise they would notice her. It didn’t work. They kept talking. With a frustrated whine, she settled back down, wincing as she rolled her aching shoulders. Frankie had kept her here for days in the same position. Her body was a constant throbbing entity, desperate for release and a chance to lie down and rest.

That may never come, Riza, if you don’t do something right now.

A slam jolted her from her daydream. The sound of the metal door closing made her panic. The feeling had been dormant within her for today, which was a nice change. It had been her constant companion since Grey took her from her home.

Frankie had been a friend from her university days. She had invited him over for a coffee the night the bastard had taken her, only for him to turn on Riza and attack her, unprovoked, screaming about something to do with her father. Riza hadn’t understood it. She hadn’t seen her father in years either, since she left high school, so had no idea what was so bad it would prompt Frankie to kidnap her. Her leg ached at the memory. To stave off the rising panic, she quickly forced it from her mind.

Focus.

The detectives were gone. They were leaving.

Grey wasn’t going to kill her. They needed her alive to get the money from her father. Once the money came through though, all bets were off. If she didn’t take this chance, she would die. Riza had nothing left to lose, after all.

With the gag in her mouth, Riza took a chance, hoping that it would be loud enough. Filling her lungs with as much oxygen as she could muster, Riza screamed as loud as she could.

[writing-royza]

Tainted Blood, Tainted Soul: Chapter Twenty - Hunting the Hunter

A/N: Happy Sunday, everyone! I'm sorry for the delay; it was two busy weekends in a row, and I had no time at all during the week to write, followed by just a really bad week. Someday, I'm going to just get a hotel room somewhere in the city and spend the entire weekend doing absolutely nothing but recharging my mental batteries and writing fanfiction. But I'm back, feeling better, and I'm ready for you to enjoy Chapter Twenty!

I do not own FMA.

Chapter Twenty - Hunting the Hunter

CENTRAL MILITARY HEADQUARTERS, CENTRAL CITY

0843 HOURS, APRIL 23RD

Breda hung up the phone, sitting back in the chair with a frown of deep thought and a tingle of unease in the pit of his stomach. The call had not gone as he had anticipated or hoped… and that did not sit well with someone as used to thinking three moves in advance as he was.

"It could just be that there's a problem with the lines out to Ishval," Fuery suggested. He had pulled a chair over from the phone kiosk to the left so that he could listen to the call, and still sat leaned forward, his elbows on his knees. "They were only meant to be temporary ones, just until the military could run long-term lines out there."

Despite the plausibility of his explanation, he didn't sound confident.

"Yeah… but with the information we've got, I don't want to take chances." Breda folded his arms over his chest, still watching the phone with a concerned and perplexed frown. "Did Rebecca or Falman say whether they had had any luck getting in touch with them?"

Fuery shook his head. "Rebecca said that Riza had called her the day before they left, and promised to touch base once they got to Jadad, but there was no word after that." He shifted nervously in his chair. "You don't think that… well, maybe something went wrong with the truck? Like it broke down, or they had an… accident?"

"Hard to have an accident when the landscape is flat with hardly anything to run into," he answered dryly. "As for mechanical trouble, they're both resourceful enough to either fix anything that went wrong. If they had to abandon it, they would hike to whichever was closest - Jadad, or some Amestrian settlement." He rocked the chair back, still thinking. "If it were Jadad, and we can't get through, then neither can they. An Amestrian town wouldn't have the same problem."

He dropped the chair back to all four legs, and got to his feet with a stretch. "All things considered, if the Promised Day didn't kill them, a three day drive won't either. Once we can re-establish communications with Jadad, I bet you anything they'll be there and already hip-deep in work."

Fuery caught up quickly, falling into step beside him as they left the communications centre. "And what about the message we were trying to get to them?" he persisted. "They still need to know about that."

"We also still need to tell Grumman," Breda pointed out. They emerged into a hallway, joining the pedestrian flow of soldiers arriving for the start of the work day and the few tired-eyed night shift workers heading for the exits. "If we can't reach the Colonel or Lieutenant, Then he takes precedence."

They ducked into a stairwell, climbing toward the third floor of the half-demolished building. Tarps flapped gently along one side of the structure where it would otherwise be open to the bare and blasted parade ground and what had once been neatly maintained lawns. The cleanup alone, to make things restoration-read, had taken a week and a half, with the rebuilding only just getting underway.

Breda caught a glimpse past the tarp as they started up the second-to-last flight of stairs – the sky was overcast with the promise of rain, the air already thickening slightly with accumulating humidity. The kind of weather the Boss hates, he thought idly. Just as well he's not here.

The outer waiting room of the Office of the Führer-President was deserted when they arrived. A pair of empty couches faced each other over a glass-topped coffee table, with a single desk sitting just inside the doors. Breda glanced over as they passed, noting a few particular details on it that marked its most recent occupant. Paper with familiar handwriting, an empty dog bowl tucked out of the way in the foot well, and the brass nameplate reading '1st Lt. R. Hawkeye.'

Fuery knocked twice on the tall, wooden double doors at the far side of the room, waiting for the confirming call of 'Enter!' before grasping the long brass handle and pulling the heavy panel open.

It was clear, from the moment they entered, that they were walking in on another conversation. Grumman watched them enter, seated in silhouette against the window behind the large desk. Standing in front of it, his hands folded behind his back and looking back at them over one shoulder, was Alex Louis Armstrong.

Both newcomers paused in the doorway to salute. "Sorry if we're interrupting," Breda said by way of greeting. "We can wait outside if –"

"Nonsense," Grumman interjected, waving away their formalities by beckoning them forward. "I suspect we're all discussing the same thing, here." He nodded in Armstrong's direction. "The Major here was just updating me on the situation with Mr. Collins of the Central Times."

Fuery winced. "Is he going to press charges? Lieutenant Hawkeye said she sent a letter of apology to his office, but–"

"She won't be charged," Armstrong rumbled, his face composed but his eyes twinkling lightly with humour. "I spoke to Mr. Collins' editor and it appears that the reporter received a rather strong backlash from his coworkers. Something about 'pushing the envelope' and 'starting trouble' with 'still-healing soldiers."

Grumman was openly grinning, his fingers laced together under his chin. "Perhaps Mr. Collins will be wise enough to learn from this mishap to keep his mouth closed and his ears open, instead of the other way around. This does come as a relief, though. We'll add it to the list of things to be communicated to the Colonel at our next check in. Speaking of…."

Grey eyes settled on Breda and Fuery, his expression turning expectant. "How did things go this morning?"

"They… didn't, sir," Fuery admitted. "That's why we came to see you. The temporary phone lines that East City ran out to Ishval last week appear to be down."

The new Führer-President went very still, his gaze boring into the two younger men. "Down," he repeated, his tone carefully neutral. "Down how?"

Fuery faltered under that stare, the one that had been subduing unruly soldiers and insubordinate officers for decades. "I'm… I'm not sure what you mean, sir…. If they're down, they're down. They're… not working."

The expression softened, Grumman's hands lowering to rest, folded, on the desk. "I'm sorry, with both of them in unfamiliar and politically restless territory so soon after being wounded… I had hoped to rely on our communications to make sure they stayed as… recovered as they seemed to be." He smiled, though it wasn't much more than reflexive. "When you say 'down,' do you mean temporarily or permanently?"

"Temporary, for sure," Breda put in. "I think our next move is to have East City try and establish radio contact with Jadad, instead of telephone."

Fuery was nodding in agreement. "The signal will be scratchy, but it should at least be understandable. We'll have to give Rebecca a message of everything we want to say, and have her take down all of the Colonel's and Lieutenant's responses." He shrugged. "It's not exactly the fastest or smoothest way to share information, but given the circumstances…."

Grumman was already nodding. "It's at least more of a plan that we had a moment ago. The only question remaining is what information we would like relayed." He looked back to Armstrong. "The news of Mr. Collins, of course, but is there anything else? Any news of the East-Central Slayer?"

"Unfortunately, there is." Breda had gone from optimistic to grim in a matter of seconds. "Rebecca got in touch this morning to update us; that's how we knew that the lines to Ishval are down. Things out there have taken a bit of an unexpected — and suspicious — turn."

Leaning back in the carved wooden Presidential chair, Grumman's face was composed, but with more than a hint of resignation. "Don't they always," he murmured. "Go on; what's happened?"

"Well… if you remember, sir, the last contact anyone had with the killer was when he robbed the blood bank at the East City Military Hospital," Fuery began. "He stole six pint jars of blood in varying types, killed a male nurse who caught him in the act and a guard who tried to stop him leaving, and then disappeared. He hasn't been seen in the city since then."

"Bizarre sort of thing to steal," Grumman murmured.

Armstrong was frowning as he absorbed the information. "What was the date of that last attack?"

"April 21st. Two days ago." Fuery paused a moment to let that sink in before adding, "The last time he took a longer break between killings was when he murdered the hospital administration clerk here in Central and then moved on to East City."

The large man eyed him thoughtfully, blue eyes watchful above his moustache. "And you believe that the reason there have been no attacks since the 21st is because the killer has migrated once again?" Fuery nodded. "Do you have any idea where he might have gone?"

Breda and Fuery both shook their heads, but Grumman got to his feet, beginning to come around to the front of the desk. "There is some… information I've not yet shared," he said grimly. "I was keeping it to myself for now, in the hopes that the fewer people knew about it, the less risk would be posed to the Colonel and Lieutenant."

He stood with his hands behind his back, grim in the morning sunlight coming through the window. "The reason for the two of them going on to Ishval was only in part due to the threat of legal action by Mr. Collins. That is the part I told you, because the other is… much worse." Grey eyes flashed in warning. "What I am about to tell you does not leave this room, except to inform the rest of the investigative team. Am I clear?"

At the three nods and murmurs of 'yes, sir,' he continued. "It would appear that Lieutenant Hawkeye has caught this killer's attention. When or how, I do not know – I don't think even she knows the answer to those questions. She and the Colonel were staying in my old apartment in East City for the duration of their investigation there, and in that time… the killer sought them out, broke in, and caused a… confrontation."

The blood drained out of Fuery's face at the same time Breda's jaw clenched. Armstrong's moustache bristled, his blue eyes wide. "Are they all right?"

"Physically, yes." Behind his back, Grumman clenched his left hand tightly around his right wrist to keep himself calm. "The attack was mostly focussed on Lieutenant Hawkeye, and, strangely enough, involves blood." He took a deep breath before saying, "He forced her to drink his."

Somehow, Fuery's jaw didn't wind up on the floor, although it tried mightily. Breda swallowed hard, looking sickened, and brief flashes of shock, sympathy, and anger crossed Armstrong's face so quickly that catching them all was difficult. The big man was the first to regain his power of speech.

"And did she… get rid of it?"

"After he was chased away, yes. I'm told she was so disgusted by it that she vomited almost immediately." He shook his head wearily. "Though if this is the perverse purpose he puts his own blood toward, I shudder to think what his plans for the bottles he stole is."

Breda gave a full body shudder, shaking himself back to reality. "I can see why you didn't want to tell us, sir. It's like something out of a horror story."

Beside him, Fuery went still, his shoulders stiffening and eyes widening. "…Say that again."

"'…It's like… something out of a horror story?'"

Recognition dawned in the young man's eyes, his gaze introspective as he nodded slowly. "That's because it is. A vampire forcing a victim to drink his — the vampire's — blood… that's straight out of classic vampire lore. It's called a baptism of blood; it's how one vampire turns a new one." He grinned sheepishly, coming back to the present as he glanced around at the other three, all of them staring at him. "…I read a lot of monster stories as a kid."

Breda's expression turned skeptical. "That's the key word here, though, isn't it? Stories?" He shook his head. "This guy is just… a guy. Somebody who's probably read the exact same stories you did, and is just cracked enough to believe that he's an actual vampire, so he tries to act like one."

"Stories, perhaps," Armstrong rumbled darkly, "but I know for a fact that monsters are real." He reached up, rubbing at his left shoulder, still tender from where it had been dislocated on the Promised Day. "I fought one on the Promised Day… and served another in the military for several years. I'm not above believing that the monsters in cautionary tales could be real; the ideas had tom come from somewhere."

"Usually folklore, dreamed up by scared people to explain the unexplainable," Breda countered. "I'll agree that monsters do exist; I can't deny the existence of the Homonculi or their Father. What I'm saying is that there's got to be a better explanation than some pointy-toothed bloodsucker, or at least some kind of proof."

"After hearing all the accounts from Central on the Promised Day… after have my own soul ripped out and then slammed back home by a mystically evil being I've never even seen…." Grumman moved to lean back against the desk, folding his arms over his narrow chest. "After all that, I think I'm willing to come down on the side of belief."

Breda still didn't look convinced, but Fuery spoke up before he could voice his skepticism. "So if this guy is some kind of vampire, and if he turned Lieutenant Hawkeye before she left for Ishval…. Could he be going after her? And stealing the blood for…." He swallowed hard in distaste. "For… provisions until he reaches Jadad?"

The room went deathly silent for a long moment, before Armstrong spoke. "…It might be best to have East City establish radio contact with Jadad as soon as possible."

EAST CITY MILITARY HEADQUARTERS

0953 HOURS, APRIL 23RD

She sat with her shoulders hunched beside the radio receiver, headphones clamped to her ears with both hands and a frown etched into her face. Rebecca shook her head, hearing the padding over her ears creak with the movement. "Still nothing, try again."

Beside her, still tired from a hurried day and night of train travel, Falman inched the frequency dial over notch by notch, his other hand holding his own headphones tightly against one ear. "We're going to have to start going backward along the frequencies before much longer. There might be a dust storm somewhere between here and there that's scrambling the signal, or –"

"Wait a second, go back a little! I think I heard something."

A second later, a fuzzy signal dissipated most of the white noise, occasionally disappearing back into static. "…tention, Eas…uarters…Jadad Cen…tions…se resp…."

Rebecca bounced once in her seat in happy victory, causing Hayate to lift his head from the floor beside her chair. "Yes!" Leaning forward to the microphone, she pushed the button for transmission. "Jadad Central Communications, this is East City Headquarters. We copy, but you've got bad static."

There was a short pause, then, "…opy, East Cit…. you know…ry offic… name…keye?"

She could feel the happy triumph of just seconds before fading into worry. Exchanging a glance with Falman, his own concern writ large on his face, she leaned toward the mic again. "…Yes, we do. We're actually calling to talk to either her or Colonel Mustang." A brief pause. "The phone lines were down; this was our only option."

The pause from the Ishvalan end continued for another moment, before was a crackle louder than others and a new, deeper voice sounded. "…ecca?"

She relaxed slightly, although not much. "Right here, Colonel. Falman, too."

"…ood. Could u… elp." There was another pause, and when he continued, Rebecca suspected it had been because Mustang was taking a calming breath. "Hawk… n't here…. ng happ… took off."

"'Something happened and she took off?'" she repeated softly to herself. Casting a look at Falman, she found him looking back at her with equal puzzlement.

"That's out of character," he said, just as quietly. "Lieutenant Hawkeye never just… 'takes off.'"

Rebecca turned back to the microphone. "Colonel, do you know where she is? We have a message we need to get to her. It's urgent."

"She…mewhere ins…ity… ot sure whe…. ive me… sage, I'll… et it… when… ind her." There followed a moment of hissing static, and then, "…ave mess… too."

Her frown deepened, not understanding the last few words past the obscuring bursts of static and white noise. Either the Colonel had a message as well… or just a mess. With Riza having gone off 'somewhere in the city,' it could be either one. "Go ahead, sir," she said, reaching for the notepad and pencil she had brought with her. "What's your message?"

"…eason t… eve… iller migh… pire. I… eird…est… lanation….… bit Hawk… rned her… too.… ried to… rid of… n't work. She… ent pers… not… at all." He paused for a moment, then added, "With… o far?"

Rebecca looked down at what she had scribbled hastily as he spoke. 'Killer, vampire?, bit Hawkeye, turned?, tried get rid of didn't work, different person.' "I think so. Did you say she's a different person? Not herself at all?"

"…es….off aft…failed… een since….Grumman we're…looking… city… on't think… find unle…want…be fou…."

"Got it." Jotting down the last note, she read it over again. 'Took off after failed' - presumably he meant whatever they had tried to get rid of a vampire curse - 'tell Grumman they're looking, in city, don't think find her unless wants be found.'

"…at's y… age?"

Falman jumped in as Rebecca started writing out her short notes into something more intelligible. "Grumman told everyone about the attack on you in East City," he said, speaking slowly to combat the static. "Fuery figured out the vampire angle as well. The last attack was two days ago –"

The radio spat static, causing him to pause, and Mustang spoke again. "Fue…igur… out?!"

"Yes, sir. And the last attack was at a hospital. The killer stole six bottles of blood and killed two staff members before he escaped." Silence, but for a faint buzzing on the airwaves. "We think he might be –"

"He…ing here."

Falman grimaced; for having been hurled headlong into this – the strangest of strange cases – with little to no warning, he was handling it remarkably well… but his own weariness was wearing on his ability to keep up. "Yes, sir. We think he might be."

There was yet another momentary pause, and when Mustang's voice came back, it was all business. "Than…eads-up.…wha… can… ind Hawkeye…. Get…ssage to…man, check…tonight.… lines down… don't… ike it.…eep search… you know…ind her."

Either the static was clearing a little bit, or Rebecca was beginning to understand static-speak. "We copy. East City out."

Both she and Falman sat back, pulling off headphones and laying them on the desk. Rebecca rubbed a worried hand across her forehead, massaging the beginnings of a headache. "I suppose we ought to call back to Central and bring the others up to speed," she muttered. "Though how we're supposed to present this vampire stuff with a straight face, I don't know."

Falman's usually sober expression was grave. "I believe it," he said quietly. "I fought beside the Homonculus Greed on the Promised Day, and I watched Bradley take apart a tank, Captain Buccaneer, and a Xingese warrior with no more trouble than swatting a determined mosquito. If a being such as that exists, who's to say that vampires can't?"

A chill crept up Rebecca's spine, and she only barely suppressed a shiver. Getting to her feet, she picked up her notepad and started toward the door. "Either way, we have a job to do. Let's just hope we're wrong in thinking the killer could be headed farther east."

CITY OF JADAD, RECONSTRUCTION OUTPOST OFFICE

1015 HOURS, APRIL 23RD

Roy pushed open the door and stepped into the dim, cool interior of the house-turned-office. Barely ten in the morning and already the sun was promising high warmth from a cloudless blue sky. Roy took that as a good sign; maybe such bright sunlight would force Riza to stay put in whatever hiding place she had found.

And maybe it'll prevent the killer from getting here much faster….

Miles looked up as Roy entered, his smile reflexive and not much more. "Did you manage to get through?"

"Barely. The temporary phone lines are down, so we had to rely on radio contact, and the static was pretty strong." He pulled a folded piece of notepaper from its place tucked into the waist sash of his Ishvalan tunic. "This was the message relayed to me through East City, from our new Führer-President."

Frowning studiously, Miles read the shorthand notes out loud as though for clarification. "'Last killer attack negative two d.' Two days ago?" He continued after a confirming nod. "'Stole blood, nothing since. Poss. coming here.'" He grimaced. "And if our vampire angle is correct, that blood will sustain him until he reaches here, and perhaps both him and the Lieutenant when he does."

Roy's stomach flipped sickeningly at the thought of her drinking more blood, this time voluntarily. "I don't think that's our biggest issue at the moment. The fact is that he's probably already on his way and if so, he's likely almost here. Two vampires in a city full of unsuspecting civilians?"

"It will be like letting two wolves into a pen of sheep," Scar put in, descending the stairs from the second floor. "Which leaves us with three options: lie in wait for the killer to arrive and bring him down when he does, find Lieutenant Hawkeye and make sure she can't or doesn't attack anyone, or… find her and wait for the male vampire to turn up and corner them both at once."

The sickening flip subsided to an uneasy rolling. "Use her as bait?"

"In a sense." Red eyes went toward the large map pinned to one wall of the main room. "The trick is finding her."

Mentally ordering his insides to get a hold of themselves, Roy turned toward the map, studying it as he approached. Symbols on a variety of colours covered most of the westward section of the city, next to tiny printed reference numbers beside each building. With more refugees trickling into the city every week, what had begun as a small 40-acre inhabited zone had spread to roughly a quarter of the city have at least some population.

Of course, that still left three quarters unpopulated.

His arms folded loosely across his chest, Roy ignored the habitable zone, and focussed his attention on the areas left free of such markings. "How many locations of significance are there in this open part?"

"Dozens," was Scar's grim answer as he joined him. One large, calloused hand lifted, pointing out different spots. "Temples, marketplaces, schools, a seminary, parks, courthouses…." He frowned. "Although you mentioned she would likely have to avoid religious sites."

Dark eyes scanned the enigmatic clusters of two-dimensional buildings. "I know it's a lot… but would you mind marking those kinds of places off? I don't know if we can figure out exactly what sort of place she would look for… but we should at least try."

Silently, Scar retrieved a marker from Miles' desk, returning to begin tracing the outlines of certain buildings with the red felt tip. Roy studied each one, comparing it to mental criteria and either dismissing it as a choice, or keeping it in mind.

The whole process took nearly half an hour, in which Miles disappeared briefly into the office's small kitchen and returned with small, steaming cups of strong coffee. Even with cream and sugar added to negate the bitterness, Roy was forced to cough in surprise at the first sip.

Getting himself under control, he turned back to the map as Scar took a step back with a satisfied nod. "All right. So if we exclude temples that still gives us…?"

"Fifty-seven possible locations." Scar gave him a sidelong glance. "If you're certain she'll look for a significant and public place."

Roy nodded firmly. "I'm almost positive. It's Sniper 101: get high up with a good vantage point over as wide an area as possible with as little ground cover as possible. That being said, if the building is under two storeys, she'll avoid it."

Miles joined them, holding a clipboard full of building reference numbers. Both he and Scar set to work, checking the heights of red-traced buildings and either putting a red line through them or leaving a red dot in the centre. In the space of ten minutes, all selected sites went from potential to 'probably not' or 'possible.'

Looking over, Miles lifted an eyebrow. "Next?"

Roy had spent the checking period planning the next round of cuts. "Any place surrounded by other buildings or that you know to have more than, say, two windows per wall." He shrugged. "It's a pretty common trope that sun and vampires don't mix well."

Miles nodded as Scar turned back to the map. "I noticed something like that as I was escorting her to the yantir. She seemed… perhaps a little groggy or disoriented, a little bit shaky in the knees. Not quite the dramatic bursting into dust and ash that some legends describe, but I think all of us would rather that didn't happen."

Silently quashing the little flutter of panic in his chest at the thought of that particular possibility, Roy forced a smile. "I think you'd be right. How many possibilities are we down to now?"

Scar was another moment in answering, murmuring when he did. "Twenty-six. Any other thoughts?"

Roy thought for a minute, then said, "Any place with religious significance. Temples and cemeteries, like we said before, but you mentioned a seminary as well?" The other man nodded. "I wouldn't expect her to go to close to that either. Any place for religion or the teaching of religion likely won't feel too welcoming to her."

Those subtractions only took a moment. "Twenty-one left."

"It would be best if we could narrow it down to under ten or just over," Miles said, his eyes on the map. "If we search those locations and don't find her, we can add possible sites back in little by little until we do."

Nodding agreement, Roy ran through the criteria in his head once again, trying to find something he had overlooked, something he may have missed that was preventing the selection from being pared down any farther…. "What about… any places that might see use sooner than the others? Places close to the inhabited zones that are maybe a little better off and might have Reconstruction workers visiting them at any time?"

"Ah." Miles consulted the clipboard list, looking closely at the column that told of a building's current state. "I can see eliminating… perhaps nine such buildings. Leaving us with a total of twelve possibilities farther into the city."

Scar handed him the marker, allowing him to take over crossing out the buildings they no longer needed. "Twelve is more of a workable number than fifty-seven," he agreed. "The temple can lend us some of their apprentices to help with the search."

Roy took a deep breath, still watching the map. Somewhere, in that open section, in one of those red-traced buildings, was Riza. A Riza who needed his help, needed to be found, needed to be brought home…. He just had to find her. "And will it be find-and-detain, or find, observe, and report?"

The two Ishvalan men exchanged a glance. "I think… it will depend on the situation, sir," Miles finally said, his tone careful. "If, when she's found, if they come upon her unnoticed… I would think that all they would need to do is report where she's gone to ground and keep an eye on the place until a new plan is formed." He hesitated briefly. "But, if she attacks outright, then whoever is on the receiving end will have no choice but to defend themselves."

It certainly wasn't the ideal situation, but Roy had a feeling it was going to be the best he could hope for under the current circumstances. "Agreed. Make sure the searchers know, then, that stealth is going to be an asset." The smile he cracked wasn't a full one, but it at least took most of the grimness out of his wry comment of "I'd really rather not have to find a new assistant."

"We'll do what we can, sir," Miles promised.

Scar had already taken a few steps away from the map on the wall toward the low table that served as his desk. Reaching down, he picked up three small packets. "If stealth doesn't work, these may buy time to either get away or prepare a defense." He kept one small canvas pouch for himself, and handed the remaining two to the others. "Based on vampire lore in the Ishvalan archives, these should be enough to at least give one of them pause when attacking."

Roy turned the little bundle over in his hands. "What all is in here, exactly?" The thing didn't have a strong smell, but what little there was was not exactly… appetizing.

"A combination of blessed sand, a holy rune of protection cast in silver, and three flowers of the garlic plant." Scar unwound the long string wrapped around the neck of his pouch, slipping it over his head so that the little bag rested halfway down his chest. "I can't promise it will completely repel a vampire, but they won't be anxious to get near it."

Putting his own pouch — or, protection charm, he supposed — around his neck, Roy glanced down at it once, then looked away. His eyes fell on the map.

"Let's get one of these made up for each member in the search party," he said, "and then get to it. Keep them in pairs, for safety's sake, and make sure they know what to do and what to look for. It's better to do this during daylight, so when there's an hour left until sunset, if we haven't found her, we'll pull them all back and regroup for tomorrow. Fair?"

Scar and Miles nodded grimly, and the curl of worry Roy had felt earlier now settled as a slowly shifting ball of uneasiness in his stomach.

The hunt was on.

[1st-time-caller]

I saw a recent drawing by @colonelhotstuff where Roy confidently asks a shy Riza for a dance when they’re alone late in the office, and Roy then struggles to confess to her. Maybe takes place post Promised Day? It was a pretty sweet artwork by @colonelhotstuff

It was a WONDERFUL artwork, very sweet and beautiful and adorable. (Check it out here! Reblog it! Squeal at their cute little faces!) I was delighted to get this ask, delighted to get the go-ahead from @colonelhotstuff and delighted to write this!

After Hours

Pouting; that was the only word for it. Her superior officer was pouting.

She supposed she couldn’t blame him. She might understand all the fuss, but the office had been giddy at the prospect of the day’s end, to celebrate the festivities of the summer festival. The entire city center had been blocked off to make room for street vendors, food stalls, live music and fair games. Breda had even been selected to stand and wave on the military float that afternoon. He had a bag of candy he was planning to throw for the children to collect as he passed. It was strange to see Breda that morning, adorned in his formal uniform and actually excited to take part.

But really, if the Colonel wanted to gallivant through the city, he should have done his paperwork on time.

“Do you smell that? That’s funnel cake,” he whined, sniffing toward the open window. “You can’t get funnel cake any other time of the year!”

“If you keep going at this pace, you’ll miss next year’s funnel cake too,” she responded dryly, taking the clip from her hair to stifle the headache pulling at her roots. It had been hours since the team left, and though she didn’t care about going to the festival, she did want to get a full night’s sleep. The prospect was getting narrower and narrower with each passing minute.

“I don’t even know the procedure for filling out these stupid forms.”

“Well, it’s about time you learned.”

He slumped in his chair, rolling his sleeves up his forearms and picking up his pen. The next few minutes were punctuated with pathetic little sighs as he tried to simultaneously avoid and finish his work.

“The boys have probably started drinking,” he grumbled,breaking the silence.

“Maybe you’ll make it out of here on time for last call.”

“Shh! Listen! The music’s started.”

Riza heard the faint but lively noises of a brass band. Her first thought was that she hoped she wouldn’t be able to hear it from her apartment when—if—she got home tonight. The entire prospect of a summer festival was ridiculous to her. She grew up in the countryside, where spring was celebrated for the birth of calves and lambs, and autumn was celebrated for its harvest. A celebration of summer made no sense, and was an entirely urban holiday.

“Close that window if it’s going to keep distracting you.”

“Come on, Lieutenant! It’s bad enough I’m stuck in here—”

“We’re stuck inhere.”

“—without completely missing all the fun.”

She rolled her eyes, but didn’t push the subject.

The music faded completely in her mind as she got back into her work. Well, his work. But there was no way he was going to get it all done, so she had taken on some of the less important tasks and hoped that he would at least get through the stack marked “URGENT”.

He almost reached a half hour of blissful obedience, before he hummed quietly from the back of his throat, for a couple of bars.

She lifted her head to shoot him a warning look. He was still looking at his paperwork, but he seemed to sense her ire and stopped humming immediately.

When she thought it was safe to look back down at her work,she heard it again. Slightly louder this time.

She lifted her head again and he stopped again, but she could see the twitch of his lip as he pretended to read over the file in front of him.

She didn’t even make it to reading a single word of her work before she was glaring at him again. This time, he didn’t stop, just continued to hum along to the music on the streets.

Riza was tired and cranky and this was the last straw.

She stood up, scraping her chair loudly against the floor,and walked over to the window with the intention of closing it. What she wasn’t intending was for the Colonel to stand up as well.

He glided between her and the window before she reached her destination, stopping her in her tracks. He stood ramrod straight in front of her, and for a moment she thought he was going to salute.

Instead, he grinned as he folded one arm behind his back,extending the other towards her with a slight bow.

“Dance with me, Lieutenant.”

His words were soft, not like an order and not at all what she was expecting. Her eyes widened as she looked at the hand between them. She should have told him that he was being inappropriate, should have shouldered past him and closed the window and put an end to his childishness.

Instead, she found herself blushing.

“Sir, you know I can’t dance,” she protested, surprised by the smallness of her voice.

He smiled wider and plucked her hand from her side,straightening fully and bringing it up with him.

“Then it’s about time you learned.”

He grabbed her other hand and brought it to his shoulder,freeing his own hand to fall on her waist.

“Hear the beat?” he hummed again, stressing the rhythm. “It goes in threes. When I step forward, you step back, okay?”

He took her through the steps as she watched their feet,partially to learn and partially to hide her heated face from his gaze. They started slowly, then faster, until they were matching the beat of the song. The notes drifted in softly through the window and she only stumbled once before the music changed to something a little slower.

The first time he dipped her, she reacted instinctively,clutching onto the front of his shirt and tightening her muscles, flinching in anticipation of a fall. As she was held mid-air by his forearm across her back,he laughed at her shock. It took her a moment to loosen her grip, and she found herself giggling too, in relief. The second time he dipped her, he lowered her slowly, so she would be ready. She kept her back straight but relaxed her hands and let her head fall back.

“You’re a fast learner,” he admired as he swung her back upright.

They danced like this for a few more songs, one upbeat piece that had him twirling her as she threw her head back in laughter and another waltz, before the music calmed down to a much slower number.

He circled his arms around her back as she brought hers up to his shoulders. The lessons seemed to be finished for the evening, so they just swayed slowly together, in time with each other. His cheek rested against her temple and her eyes fluttered closed as she listened to the deep hum of the saxophone music. His arms tightened around her and she was surrounded by him;by his scent, his warmth. His breath tickled her neck with each exhale and fora moment she felt so calm and content that she could fall asleep where she stood swaying.

She sighed.

The muscles of his shoulders and arms tightened instantly. When she tried to sway again she was pulled back into place by his resistance. He had frozen in his tracks.

The sudden change jolted her. She pushed off his shoulders to distance herself enough to face him, eyebrows scrunched with worry.

“Are you okay, colonel?” Had she done something wrong?

He opened his mouth but his breath stopped in his throat. He stared at her wide-eyed, arms loosening around her but not letting go. His smile was gone and he was blushing. Not that she could blame him, she hadn’t stopped blushing since he had asked her to dance.

The music ended and she could hear the distant applause of the spectators outside. It must have been the last song. The sound seemed to snap him out of his reverie, he released her completely and took a step back,averting his eyes.

“You must be tired, Lieutenant. You should go home,” he muttered.

“Sir, we still have work to—”

“I’ll finish up.” He looked up at her again, a forced smile painted on his face. “It’s my mess, I’ll have it done before tomorrow. Promise.”

Usually she wouldn’t take the risk. He was a notorious slacker even while she was in the room. If she left him to his own devices, he was far, far worse. But there was a strange urgency in his eyes, he almost looked like he was in pain. And something told her to trust him, this time.

“Okay,” she agreed quietly. She cleared her throat and stood up straight, raising her arm in a salute. “Goodnight, sir.”

His expression softened to something a little more genuine. “Goodnight,Lieutenant.”

As she walked towards the door, he sat back down at his desk. Before leaving, she turned to him again.

“Thank you for the dance, colonel.”

He looked at her and smiled.

“My pleasure.”

[hawkeyebabe]

Petrol Soaked Papers, Chp. 2

Me 6 weeks ago: “Hey guys! Can’t wait to post a chapter every week!” Proceeds to move cross-country, plummet into a whirlpool of a quarter-life crisis (the third one in four years), and experience a bitch-slap from this whore called Life.

I’m sorry guys...I’ve been rather inactive. I even had all of this written long ago, I just didn’t have the energy to post it. I hope it’s mildly worth the wait -- it’s extra long, at least <3

Chapter Two: A Fight Worth Losing Previous Chapter AO3

Though she expected a struggle, waking at 0400 to meet General Mustang at 0435 was rather easy. Unable to sleep well the night prior, a racing mind battling with an overactive dreamstate, she’d found herself entirely awake by 0335 and spent the freetime reading over hot tea, the mug allowing the drifting wafts of steam to warm her tired face.

She once fantasized that the dreams would lessen after giving back to Ishval, and after earning the people’s trust. The night terror that had accompanied her that first sleep however, the memories more vivid than they had ever been before, forcing her awake with such violence as she felt phantom blood coating her shaking hands and her turmoil so fresh it manifested itself in the form of a sheet of sweat --- she realized that that had been a child’s wish.

She kept her belongings -- just a few pairs of clothes and toiletries -- in a small briefcase and shut the door behind her, stepping out into the desert night. She, Falman, and Mustang were the only constant Amestrans in Ishval, and their quarters were practically across the dirt path from one another. Scar, who acted as the Ishvalan Grand Cleric, wished to live among his people in the neighborhoods. A few empty shacks which were used for visitors or temporarily stationed officers sat gathering dust. Since the Trials, the following peace demanded only the three of them and the empty shacks welcomed nobody.

To her surprise, and impressment, Mustang was stood as a dark shadow outside her door. She’d convinced herself that her fist would be knocking on his door, for since she had known the man, departing his bed before the sun rose was a task he never quite mastered.

“Hey,” he said with a tired smile. She noticed the buttons of his long-sleeved shirt were one off-center, leaving an inch of material hanging clumsily at the bottom.

“Hi, General.”

“Wow…” He blinked away the sleepiness in his eyes and leaned forward several inches.

She stared back at him.

“What is it?”

“Your hair!” he almost exclaimed, truly surprised. “It’s gotten so long.”

With eyebrows perched upwards, Riza lifted a hand. So exhausted from the lack of sleep, she’d entirely forgotten to do anything with it. Actually, she then realized, she hadn’t even bothered looking at it, and she suddenly felt somewhat self-conscious that it was standing on end or tangled into knots. She stopped herself from toying with it.

“It’s nice,” he said casually, easing her worries, as he motioned his head over his shoulder to suggest they begin walking.

“Thank you, sir. Actually, I’d just noticed its length the other day myself.”

“I don’t think I’ve seen it down for awhile. We’re always in uniform.”

Yes, they were. It seemed as though they lived in them, actually. Twelve hour workdays were common, and seeing one another outside of work hours was rare when work hours constituted an entire day.

Being in civilian clothes, as they were then, was a pleasant thing. Black slacks and a tan blouse, though simple, was the most comfortable thing she’d worn in what could have been a lifetime.

“Yours is getting a little long too, sir,” Riza teased dryly, her eyes roaming over his unkempt head. “You may want to consider a barber.”

“Don’t you think I should grow it out like yours?”

This earned him a genuine smile.

“I really do not, no.”

“Alright. Seeing as we’ll be in Central, I suppose it isn’t the worst idea. God knows there’s nowhere for me to get it done when we come back here.”

“I bet Kira would do it if you asked nicely.”

“Aroe’s five year old?”

“That’s right.”

“I hope you find yourself funny, Captain.”

Her teeth showed in a silent smile. He looked over at her, his eyes taking in the grin.

“Oh,” he pronounced. “Good. You do find yourself funny.”

“Only sometimes,” she assured him. A kinyee chattered in the distance, and its pack answered a moment later. “How do you think Vato will find having this place to himself?” she asked as their boots scraped across the road. Mustang chuckled.

“He’s never been given much opportunity to run anything himself. I think he’ll like it. Maybe it’ll get him to test for 1st lieutenant when January rolls around.”

“I doubt it,” said Riza fondly. “He’s never found much interest in rank. Just as long as he’s contributing, which he’s done enough of already, he’s satisfied. At least, that’s my theory. Power isn’t his supplier.”

“Well,” he looked down at her and gave her wink, which she ignored to notice how it seemed to warm her fingertips. “He is alone in that.”

They came upon the general’s car and drove to the station in the neighboring town of Khao. Ishval itself didn’t have a train depot, though that was another object of affection they’d been vying for.

“By the way, General,” Riza said, turning her head over her shoulder as she climbed up the steps onto the train. “You may want to re-button your shirt.”

His head jerked downwards, then returned to her with equal speed.

“How long has it been like that?” he yelled, though the cry was barely heard over the sound of the whistling engine.

“Well, probably since you put the shirt on, sir.”

“Damn you, Hawkeye. You could have told me in the car.”

“Honestly sir, I forgot. I figured now was a good time as any.”

“Oh, I’m sure.”

The journey from Khao to Central Station was one of five hours. After failing to hypothesize the reason for the council, Riza and her general soon fell into a mutual tired silence and Riza’s eyes became heavy. She fought it for some time, but the car was warm and General Mustang was quiet in thought as he stared out the window, the glass framed in condensation. The image was a peaceful one. For so long, she had been surrounded by tension in the form of every figure she passed, every step she took, every grain of sand that blasted into her cheeks. Every anxiety, every day. Sitting there silently as the train rolled through the countryside, the autumn air stopped by the glass and mirrored by warmness inside, Riza felt, not lightly to say, comfortable.

It didn’t take long for her to surrender into a relaxed sleep.

“Captain…” he said gently. It failed to wake her, and he found he truly did not wish to. He placed his palm on her shoulder. “Captain, we’re here.”

Finally, her eyes peeled open, and she seemed to register his presence. Awareness filled her features.

“Oh, sorry, General,” she said quietly as she sat herself up.

“You must have been pretty tired.”

“Weren’t you?” she asked as she stood and gathered her briefcase. She followed him out of the car.

“I was.”

“But you don’t regularly have the capacity to sleep on trains,” she said behind him.

It wasn’t a question or an accusation, but only a statement. He couldn’t stop himself from smiling to himself as he stepped off onto the platform, greeted by the natural sunlight streaming through the many open windows and the exposed roof of the station. Birds flew around overhead, transferring from one steel beam to the next.

“That’s right,” he answered, though she couldn’t hear him over the bustle of the crowds, people flowing off the trains and wading towards the exit like a herd.

Central Station was near to Central headquarters, and they found themselves inside the building with 25 minutes to spare to change into uniform and give a quick hello to Lieutenant Havoc.

“Well, come by afterwords and let’s grab lunch or something!” Havoc said as they turned to leave. Roy, without looking back, lifted a thumbs up into the air.

“Will do, Jean.”

The council was scheduled to begin in ten minutes in a conference area on the second floor. Neither of them felt privy to being late, so they agreed to arrive early and await the remaining seat holders. After all, they wished to make a positive impression. Should this pertain to Ishval, many Amestrians, molded by prejudice, needed a progressive nurture. Roy opened the door for them both and he followed Hawkeye into the room.

Eight men sat waiting, each looking up at the arriving officers in unison like their heads were connected by string. Confusion was quick to find he and Hawkeye both, though she did not display it like he surely did.

“Oh,” said Mustang quickly. “My apologies, sirs, we were told to arrive at 1100…”

“That’s correct, General Mustang,” said General Fillbin at the head of the table. “Don’t worry, you’re not late.”

A familiar face shined like a light, and Roy’s eyes landed on Fuhrer Grumman. The Fuhrer, to only deepen Roy’s state of confusion and rising suspicion, looked troubled.

“But,” continued Fillbin. “We’ll actually only be needing you for this council, General, so please take a seat.”

Fillbin looked at Hawkeye and gave her a smile that seemed almost patronizing, though innocent enough, and something not too foreign lit up in the center of Roy’s chest. Not being one to follow the orders of any man but one, Roy saw her turn her head to look at him, confused, but awaiting his word regardless. Roy did not meet her eye, and only stared at the three star general.

“My captain was summoned as I was, General Fillban.”

“I understand that, but she will not be needed for this discussion.”

Finally, Roy looked down at her. It seemed as though the decision was made; perhaps there had been a mistake or a change of plans, and there was no way to notify them on short notice. Perhaps it was something else. Accepting this, Roy nodded to her. Her boots clicked as she snapped to attention, offered a salute to the board, and turned on her heels to leave. The door shut behind her, and he moved to sit.

“How was the train ride, General Mustang?” asked another officer, a major general named Foy Bakers. This was a kind man, one of stature and smiles. Roy always liked him as a person, though his non-confrontational demeanor was not well suited for his position. Still, Roy felt more at ease as he lowered himself in the chair beside him.

“It was very smooth, thank you, General Bakers.”

Roy flicked his eyes to Grumman’s again, but they were on the officer who sat across from Roy. He dared a glance before giving his attention back to Fillban. It was a man he did not know.

“Mustang,” said Fillban. “I’ve called this council for a very, very important reason. We’re having some...obstacles, in Roxwell Post.”

“Roxwell Post? That small town in the West?”

“That’s right.”

“Alright...what kind of obstacles?”

“There is a pastoral nomadic group out there, wandering and herding cattle, hunting in the forests. Creating a lifestyle, a small community.”

“Yes?” he prodded, agitation beginning to creep into his knuckles.

“Well, there is something very disconcerting about them, and who they are.”

Something was perplexing about this council. Had they summoned him from his incredibly important post in Ishval for this? For a group of wanderers?

“Yes, General Fillban?” he pressed. Could this conglomerate collection of decorated generals not handle this without him? Anger began to simmer, and he suppressed his still fresh agitation at the dismissal of his adjutant so as to remain

Fillban, unaware of his fumings, continued.

“We’ve received intel that a group of Drachma spies have infiltrated this group, and are possibly grooming them for an attack on West City.”

Roy’s spiting monologue halted, and his mouth parted as he prepared, and failed, to say something. He leaned back in his chair and blinked away the surprise.

“Uh...okay.” He glanced around at the faces sat round the table. “Does everyone know of this? Am I alone in just learning this information?”

“General Mustang,” Fillban said soothingly, an attempt to calm Roy before answering. “This wasn’t of your concern until we learned of new details only two days ago. And unfortunately...this is of your concern now.”

“Well,” Roy laughed without a trace of humor, “dammit, Fillban, fill me in here because I am quite obviously missing some key point, as a couple of gullible shepherds is hardly my goddamn specific concern considering I have other very important things going on right now. Don’t you have some other general putzing around here that needs something to do? Because I assure you, that man is not me.”

Roy was leaned entirely forward, his elbows square against the wooden table as he locked eyes with the general at the head of it. The absence of his captain was a blessing, suddenly, for if she heard him speak to a superior officer in such a manner she would have berated him for hours.

“Roy,” pushed Fillban sympathetically, matching his lean forward with a slow shake of his head. “The pastoral nomads are Ishvalan.”

Quite suddenly, Roy forgot anything he’d been thinking. Hot breath stuck in his throat like a rock, his annoyance blown out like a candle.

Ishvalan? That simple detail suddenly changed everything, and his place in the meeting became entirely apparent.

“We’re not completely certain why there’s a small community of Ishvalans all the way out in the West,” continued Fillban. “But we believe it’s possible they were refugees who escaped during the war, traveled as far as they could, and found a way of life in the pastures. The Drachma…”

Fillban sighed deeply and put his hand up to his forehead, his eyes glancing down at the wood.

“It’s only intel, but it is trustworthy. Their intentions, their methods, their entire mission is a mystery to us. However…” The look he gave Roy was a serious one, and Roy finally saw a general who seemed almost as exhausted as he was himself. “These Ishvalans, living in seclusion, avoiding the public eye, may not be aware of a great deal of things, including the Promised Day or the current efforts to rebuild their land. And the Drachma clearly have no allies within our border. Befriending these people for the purpose of a mutual attack is not something I would disconsider.”

Roy’s mouth was fully open, his chest still and his body even moreso. Images spat at him like a loaded slingshot, pictures of what he one day prayed to see: Ishvalans having families, growing their population, temples being erected in every major city so the people were free to express their faith in any place of the country, watching dark skinned people with red eyes shopping in markets and smiling with their children, letting them pick out candies or fruits and shaking the hands of the Amestrian vendors...he prayed for a time when one day, Ishvalans not only trusted the rest of Amestris, but the rest of Amestris disposed of their prejudice and trusted Ishvalans.

The words that had come from General Fillban’s mouth put all of those hopes into jeopardy.

He thought of how this news would so greatly disappoint his captain.

“Before you fret too much, General, we have begun preparing a team to deploy and intercept the Ishvalan nomads, in hopes of severing their ties and arresting the spies.”

Roy cleared his throat and gathered himself.

“Good. I’m certain if I spoke with the diplomats in Ishval, one of them would be happy to accompany. Having one of their own support our claims would prove monumental.”

“We’ve already employed an Ishvalan Shi’eq, actually. His name is Imam Klayton.” Fillban took a moment before adding, “But I’m glad you mutually understand why he is on this very important team.”

“Of course I would,” Roy countered, his head tilting. The comment seemed out of place. “Why wouldn’t I? In fact, a Shi’eq is the best possible person to send. A religious leader is more prone to trust and immune to lies, in the eyes of the Ishvalans. With luck, they will believe him. Who else is apart of this team? I intend on speaking with them before they leave, and I’d like their names and serial numbers.” This, he realized, was of absolute, paramount importance. He and Hawkeye would spend the night researching these people, reading any transgressions, studying references, and preparing lectures on what and what not to say to the Ishvalan nomads once they made contact.

“Of course,” indulged Fillban. “Leading the squad will be,” he motioned to the man sitting across Roy, “First General Joshuayne Boswick.”

Without moving his head, Roy glanced over at the man and gave him a nod.

“As I previously mentioned, Shi’eq Imam Klayton, a first lieutenant named Chile Spellman, a major named Borin Temstral, and,” he seemed to take the smallest precautionary sigh, “Captain Riza Hawkeye.”

A beat passed, then Roy’s head jerked backwards as if he were physically struck.

“Excuse me?”

“I understand her adjuncy is of importance to you, but her skills are well suited for---”

“No, absolutely not. I’m sorry gentlemen,” he lifted a hand to the man across from him, “General Boswick, but she is not available for commission. She stays in Ishval with me.”

“General,” reasoned Fillban. “It’s been decided by the council. All of these people were specifically chosen for this mission.”

“I do not give a damn, find another marksman.”

This caused the eyebrows of Fillban to shoot up to his hairline.

“If I may say, General Mustang…” said a new voice. Roy slowly turned his head to look at the unknown man, Boswick, across from him.

“Your captain can be a turning point for this mission. Although true her skills as a marksman and soldier may prove invaluable should we cross paths with the Drachma, it’s her relationship with Ishval that’s really selling. Her, in combination with the Shi’eq, could sway these people in a matter of minutes.”

Logically, Roy could not contest this.

However, it wasn’t logic that was making his stomach churn. He could not quite place what was; perhaps it was his anger, unbidden, and unmistakable.

“I’m sorry…” Roy pronounced without a hint of apology, his voice a staccato. “Was it decided, without my input, that a critical component of my Ishvalan efforts would be stripped of me? Is that what I am gathering? That you decided to put Riza Hawkeye on your list without even consulting me? Her direct superior?”

“We only just learned that these nomads were Ishvalan the other day, General,” cautioned Fillban, his hand moving as he spoke. The lines on his face were deep. “We only just contacted Imam last night.”

“You reassigned her without telling me, General Fillban, and that is a direct violation of our chain of command.”

“Actually,” started Boswick. Something about the man made Roy clench his jaw repeatedly, and he chomped down on his teeth as he looked back at him once more. “In times of crises, should the decision be time sensitive and/or critical to human life, chain of command may be overruled when agreed upon by a council.”

Boswick looked at the other men, at Fillban, Bakers, and the ever silent fuhrer, before returning his gaze to Roy.

“And this council agreed on the reassignment.”

“I understand your resistance, General Mustang,” Fillban interjected carefully. “But know that the decision did not come lightly. And what’s done is done.”

Roy pulled his lips into a tight line, his chest threatening to implode.

“And when does this squadron deploy?”

“Before the sun sets tonight.”

The churning inside his stomach was nearing a whirlpool of madness, and it took every ounce of restraint not to scoff in the faces of these very high ranked men.

“The summon you sent me said to pack for several days?”

“That was for your captain. Although, her absence will surely be longer than that allotted time. I’m sorry, we couldn’t elaborate in writing.”

“Fantastic.”

“She’s to report to the armory by seven.”

To this, Roy said nothing.

“I expect you will wish to debrief her?”

He suffocated his rage in order to answer flatly,

“I do.”

Fillban offered him a weak smile, then glanced around the table.

“Well, gentlemen. This meeting is adjourned.”

Chairs scraped as they were pushed outwards, and several pairs of boots thumped against the wooden flooring. Baker’s sympathetic hand squeezed Roy’s shoulder before he, too, vacated the area. Soon the room was empty, save for he and the highest ranking official in the country, both sitting in a mutual silence, both knowing the following conversation that was about to take place.

“You let this happen?” asked Roy finally, his arms crossed tightly against his chest as he found the nerve to finally look at Grumman. “You allowed this to happen?”

“Roy,” began Grumman lowly. “I know you are distressed. But you cannot refute the reasoning.”

“I have a phone, dammit,” Roy spat back at him. “There’s a working telephone in my hut of an office. Did no one have the sense to call me?”

“My boy, you ought to know better than anyone that telephone lines cannot be trusted. What if the militants knew we were coming?”

“I can’t believe this decision was made like this,” Roy fumed, not bothering to answer. “Beneath a layer of dirt and over my head. ”

“You speak with your heart, and not your brain, Roy. There’s no crookedness going on here, there’s no corruption to be overthrown. This is an unfortunate, but necessary, thing to be done.”

Roy’s lip twitched as he inhaled sharply.

“It hasn’t even been a year,” his fist slammed onto the table, “Grumman. Not even one single damned year, and the trials just finished three weeks ago! She deserves a break, not some shitshow that could put her right back in danger!”

“Do you think I don’t know that?” Grumman whispered back harshly. “I am fully aware that both you and your captain have put your necks out far too many times, but this is, by every definition, a crisis. Imagine what would happen if the Drachma got into those Ishvalan heads. If the people in the West saw Ishvalans raging in with torches and bombs, right alongside the country’s oldest enemy, killing people in revenge of a war we’ve been trying to repent for...everything you and your captain have done in Ishval would be in ruins.” His voice suddenly became remarkably calm. “It would be for nothing.”

“She isn’t just my captain, Fuhrer Grumman,” he snapped back, not bothering to let his voice quiet. “She’s your granddaughter.”

Grumman stood and shook his head woefully, tucking in his chair and pulling his hands behind his back.

“I was never in her life. I don’t have the privilege of calling her that. She is a skilled soldier, and has a well earned place on this squadron.” Finishing himself of the conversation, he walked around the edge of the table to leave. “I have learned to relinquish my love, though it will always be there, for the betterment of my country. It is time you do the same.”

Taken aback, Roy said nothing as Grumman walked past him and out the door, leaving him alone to listen to the sound of the distant birds outside the french-lined windows.

He whispered a curse to himself as he sat there, hands folded together and eyes lasering into the wood. Finally, he stood and opened the door himself, stepping out to see his captain standing dutifully beside it

On her face, though, was worry.

“Is everything alright, Col--uh, General?”

She hadn’t made that slip in some time. Though, he thought, she probably had taken count of the faces in the room when she was inside before, and had probably taken count of their exit, except for his. It was apparent that she knew something was peculiar, and, he thought with a drop of his heart, his old rank was said many times in many terrible situations. It was only natural to utter it now.

“Walk with me, Hawkeye.”

Mustang longed for his old office, where he could lead them inside, shut the door, and speak with her openly. Where he could be familiar with her in a familiar space.

Though, their old office was occupied by someone else now, the desks filled by strangers and the carpet gaited by no one of his team. They had been there for years, he and his men. And it almost saddened him to know they would never go back.

It was by good fortune that Jean Havoc knew of a colonel who’d left for the week, off on holiday with his wife. It was in that office that Roy told Hawkeye of the council’s content.

Silence passed between them when the words left his lips, though not a silence in shock or uncomfortableness or anything unsavory. She was thinking, absorbing the information presented to her.

“Well,” she finally said slowly. “I’ll be sure to get those Ishvalans back to their people, sir. As soon as I can.”

To this, Roy sighed deeply and hung his head. This was typical of her, to never compromise the soldier she’d been committed to being.

“General,” she implored. He lifted his head to watch her eyes search his. “It will be alright. We both know Imam, he’s a good man and very personable. If he’s with us, I have no concern about turning the nomads away from the Drachma.”

“Hawkeye,” he said with exasperation. “I---” He stopped, unable to finish.

She stared at him attentively, leaning forward in her chair with all symptoms of her earlier tiredness entirely gone. It was quite obvious his stress was not translating for her. He swallowed and shook his head, letting air push out from his nose as witness to his still seething thoughts.

“How am I supposed to run Ishval without you?” he asked, a change of direction.

“Like any day, General. Falman is there right now without both of us, I think you can manage.”

“You’re an equal part of this campaign. Your deficit will be a tremendous loss.”

She tilted her head and gave him a knowing smirk.

“You’re being a little dramatic, General. You and Vato are more than capable without me breathing down your necks. Maybe you’ll even like the break.”

A hand lifted to his face, a thumb pushing into his lip, as his eyes turned away in a shake of his head. Her prediction was entirely untrue, the coiling of his insides testimony to that. The rolling uncertainty was speaking to him in a different tongue, ailing him for reasons he couldn’t be sure of -- until the ailing gave him sense of only one thing. A childish thing. There was a soft thud as his hand dropped back onto the desk and he looked at her with intensity.

“I don’t want you to go,” he admitted harshly.

The silence that followed was a little different than the one before, and he was sure the acuteness in her eyes was in response to his own.

Something about her demeanor changed. Her shoulders loosened so they sat heavy, like weights on her body. A melancholy teased the dull crows feet at her eyes. The person who sat across from him was no longer his adjutant, but his friend that he’d known for so very long.

“Well I don’t particularly want to go,” she admitted herself. “But knowing what we know now, that those people whom we have vowed to protect need our help and guidance...there’s no way I can’t go. Even if I had the option not to, I would still go. It’s because of us that they were displaced from their homes in the first place.”

The tempest at the walls of his stomach stilled, and was replaced instead with a drifting kind of acceptance. She was right, and a swirl of pride blended jaggedly with the negativity.

“Well who the hell is supposed to watch my back?” he asked. Who the hell is going to watch yours? he wanted to say.

She lifted a shoulder in a sort of shrug.

“Jean seems a little bored over here.”

Roy smiled for a brief moment before it fell.

The truth was undeniable; he couldn’t bear to be separated from her. Having her in a different part of the country would be to rip him in half with a pair of scorching tongs. For witnessing her near death had been his purest torture, and it had nearly destroyed him, and since then...well, he thought, he hadn’t quite recognized it until now, but he wanted her within his sight every moment of every day. It was a sick thing, and selfish. Beyond inappropriate within light to their professional dynamic. And, he reminded himself, the woman didn’t need him to stay safe. After all, he couldn’t keep her safe that day.

Yet still, letting her go made him nauseous.

His heart nearly broke the walls of his chest as it thudded at the sudden contact of her hand over his. His fears quelled as he looked at her with alarm. The gesture was almost intimate, and entirely uncommon for her. Her skin on his was almost painful in the way that it ached.

“When I come back,” she started softly. “You had better be in one piece.”

His thumb twitched, asking him permission to brush over her hand.

“The same goes for you,” he said instead, quieting the want in his fingers. She raised an eyebrow slightly, slipping her hand off his as she leaned back in her chair.

“When I come back, I had better be in one piece? Wouldn’t me coming back default to being in one piece?” she clarified with a tease. His gentle smile returned, his eyes softening, as the storm inside finally passed.

“Just come back.”

The rest of the day had been spent discussing tactics with one another, with the occasional pipe-in from Jean. With no thanks to the board and their lack of communication, they had little evidence to send with Hawkeye to show to the nomads. The necklace one of the midwives had crafted for Riza, a hand-woven line with a solar pendant at the crest, was all she had, tucked comfortably beneath her shirt.

Hours passed before Jean stood from his chair, stretched, and announced he had to leave to meet a girl for a date. With prodding, he only mentioned it was another officer and that she was entirely out of his league. Isn’t every woman out of your league? Roy had asked. Jean answered with a smack to the back of his head.

“Stay safe,” Jean said to Hawkeye as he pulled her in for a hug. “Good luck out there. We’ll see you soon.”

“Of course,” she smiled back at him. He waved goodbye.

Soon the sky turned violet, the sun pulling downwards to sleep. Roy glanced at his pocket watch; quarter til seven.

The walk to the armory was quiet.

“General, the train ride is long,” she had said after Jean had left. “You don’t need to stay.”

“I know that.”

Quicker than what seemed normal, the day was nearly dark by the time they arrived. The before colors of the sunfall had flitted away into twilight. It was chillier in Central, despite it being early August. Summer was fading; autumn teased the land like a ghost. Men were passing boxes to each other and piling them into a large covered cargo vehicle, the tarp a washed out green and the tires taller than a child. Roy spotted Boswick speaking with another man near the passenger door, and he eyed him warily before stopping his captain with a touch to her shoulder.

“I don’t know who any of these men are besides Imam,” he said when she turned towards him, “but remember that you’ve got authority here.”

She gave him a look.

“Oh?” she asked doubtfully.

“Yes,” he replied sharply, an attempt to convince her. “They’ve probably never even stepped foot in that desert. You know who the Ishvalans are, you know their plight. I know I don’t need to tell you not to let these guys walk all over you, because God knows that won’t be an issue.” She smiled. “But just remember that if you’re ever in doubt, listen to your gut. Not them.”

“Boswick is a major general, sir. And his number two is a major.”

“Doesn’t matter. Your gut is fuhrer on that truck.”

Her smile turned to a quiet laugh, and the corners of his own mouth pursed at the sound. He found that he coveted hearing it one more time.

“Captain Hawkeye,” called Boswick, seeming to finally see her. “You ready to roll out?”

She turned towards him and snapped to attention, her hand whipping up to her right eyebrow in salute.

“Yes, sir.”

“Good. Let’s get going.”

Boswick lifted himself into the cab of the vehicle as the other three men put the last of the boxes into the bed. The two soldiers helped Imam up onto the ledge, and the Ishvalan man parted the tarp to enter the back. Hawkeye’s hand dropped as she turned to face Roy.

“I’ll see you soon, General Mustang,” she said with a thin smile, gripping her briefcase tighter as she turned on her foot and set off towards the truck.

Without thinking, in no way planning was he was about to do, Roy grabbed her wrist and stopped her, allowing the spark between them to shock them both. She halted immediately and glanced back at him with wide eyes and an open mouth, her bangs fluttering about from the sharp turn of her head.

He quickly reached into his pocket with his free hand, wrapped his fingers around what was inside, and deposited the contents from his hand to hers. The hold he had on her wrist slipped downwards to her fingers so the materials were thick between their palms. He gave her hand a strong, formal shake.

“Come back,” he ordered sternly, quiet so only she could hear. Feeling the flex of her muscles, he knew she had a grip on what he’d given her and he slipped his hand out from its hold. She lifted her wrist, the darkening skies giving her little light to see, and unraveled her fingers to display what was in her palm.

Roy deliberately took several steps back so she couldn’t return them. By the time she finished digesting the gesture, her face was lined with something he couldn’t quite read. Perhaps it was his distance from her, or how the setting sun had bathed the land in a deep blue, but the look he could make out on her face made his throat grow tight.

He looked at her fiercely, any emotion buried under a layer of severity. To a stranger, he may have even appeared angry.

“Hawkeye, let’s go!” yelled a voice somewhere behind her. This seemed to pull her from her statuesque state, her face faltering at the shout, though she still hadn’t blinked away from her locked gaze with Roy. He swallowed and tilted his chin downwards.

Come back.

He watched the shadows of her face adjust as her nostrils flared and her mouth closed, and she gave him a single nod as she pocketed what he had given her. Then she turned on her heels, walked several steps to the truck, grabbed onto the handlebar to the right, and hoisted herself inside so she disappeared beyond the tarp.

[ladydragonhawke]

Breath of the Dragon Chapter 7: Payment

A Fullmetal Alchemist fanfic.

20 years later after saving all of Amestris, the Elric brothers may have gotten themselves into something worse than human transmutation. Only the strength of their wit and knowledge they gained through their travels can aid them in the trials to come. They'll have to do more than just save Amestris this time, and this time alchemy can do more harm than good.

“Well this is a surprise, normally you’re not dressed till you’ve eaten. Something’s wrong, what is it? The dignitaries?” Lan Fan pondered as she took the nearest seat at a lavishly decorated table. Ling huffed in frustration at the complexity of his royal footwear that was beginning to get him flustered, but that wasn’t the sole reason. “Did you sense or feel anything odd last night?” he huffed, trying to keep his composure.

Chapter 1: A Little Tremor, Chapter 2: It Opens at the Close, Chapter 3: Blood of the Sage, Chapter 4: Only the Scent, Chapter 5: Blood and Grass, Chapter 6: Wide Awake

Chapter 7: Payment

“Please tell me you’ve got something for me General?” Fuhrer Roy Mustang breathed pleadingly into the phone, using his other hand to massage his temple. He expected not to hear any news about the dragon from Edward but had hoped his men would have something for him. 

“I do.” Mustang sat up removing his hand and focusing on the voice on the other end of the phone. “I have intelligence that the dragon crashed in Resembool and the brothers arrived...” There was a slight pause and General Armstrong’s tone gave away that something was off. 

“What’s wrong Armstrong?” Mustang prodded. 

“It appears a small group of possible Drachman spies were spotted following them.” The General whispered. 

“What does Drachma want with a dragon.” Mustang mumbled to himself. 

“I’ve sent for further reinforcements at the Elrics place of residence. Would you like me to relay anything to them, sir?”  

“Tell them to give me a damn call. And Armstrong, go lend them a hand would ya?” 

“Yes sir! It would be my honor to, sir!” With that they both hung up. 

Mustang sighed heavily and took a sip of water from his glass. Just then Riza Hawkeye stepped through the large wooden door and marched up to his desk. 

“So, any luck?” she set down a stack of papers on the right side of his desk, being sure the audible slap of the stack was heard. Mustang groaned at the sight of the papers, knowing exactly what they were for and not particularly looking forward to reading them. 

“It apparently crashed after sustaining heavy damage in Resembool, I sent General Armstrong to assist. There’s the possibility Drachma may have something to do with the dragon.” Mustang grumbled while picking up the first page to inspect it. 

“Or vice versa.” Riza added. Mustang gave a shrug, and after taking a peek at the contents of the first page on the stack, set it back down and leaned back in his chair.  

As it groaned in response, he let out a heavy sigh. “I may have to notify Olivier about this.” 

“Are you sure that’s wise, sir?” Riza was watching him with discerning eyes, studying his telling movements. Even though he often came across as lazy or uncaring, she knew better. She could see the clear worry and anxiety he so desperately hid beneath his candor.  

“I trust her, but…” he sat back up in his chair and cleared his throat, “right now we don’t want to have too many moving parts acting separately. I think it’s best to wait until I can get more information on this dragon. What does my advisor think?” 

“I agree sir. Shall I arrange a car?” Riza nodded her head in respect knowing full well what was to happen next. Mustang was never a patient man when it came to information being withheld from him. She knew it was better to indulge him than for him to go behind her back in secret, possibly risking his life in the process. 

“That would be lovely, thank you.” He smiled, thanking her with his eyes as she turned to leave. 

“You Elrics. What mess have you gotten yourselves into?” he sighed, returning to the first page on the stack of papers on his desk. He imagined it was best to do it now, since he would be out of the office for a short break. It was the holidays after all. 

 *** 

 Alphonse peered through the blinds with his binoculars as he watched three cars in the distance unload what looked like small ballistic missiles. He sighed loudly as he heard a pair of heavy footsteps behind him.

“There’s three cars now, they’re unloading something and setting up. But I can’t see much more than that.” Alphonse informed.

“Hmm, maybe we should fortify this place, like that dragon said.” Zampano grunted.

“I could build up some walls around us, but we won’t be able to see. And right now, we need to see what they’re planning, what we’re up against.” Alphonse stated thoughtfully. 

“Alphonse, Fuhrer Roy Mustang is on the phone for you.” Jerso announced through the living room. Alphonse turned with a frown as he handed the binoculars to Zampano and headed toward Jerso.

“Shit! I forgot we were supposed to update him when we could.” He raced to the phone and picked it up, clearing his throat before putting it to his ear. “Fuhrer Roy Mustang sir. I’m sorry we weren’t able to contact you sooner we…”

“It’s alright Alphonse, don’t apologize just yet. I got the gist of what was going on from Jerso. Has there been any change?” Mustang interrupted, the background while he spoke was loud with a rumbling noise and clicking every so often.

“There’re more than twenty from what we can see, and they seemed to have brought some heavy artillery with them.” Alphonse informed him with a hushed tone.

“Not that, but I’m sending some help your way. The dragon, what’s going on with the dragon and Edward. He said something about a transmutation happening?” Mustang asked hurriedly.

“The dragon,” Alphonse paused, realizing he never got to ask what its name was. He decided that was something he would bring up when they got back. “is getting Eds’ Door of Truth back.”

“What? How?” Mustang asked shocked.

“I don’t know, didn’t get the chance to ask. It seemed the dragon wanted to get him ‘fighting fit’ before the Drachmen did something.” Alphonse informed hurriedly.

“How long have they been gone?” Mustang asked, calmer.

“About two hours now. I don’t know how much longer they’ll be gone; did you want to leave a message for Ed?” Alphonse asked, worry starting to seep into his words.

“Tell him General Armstrong and I are on the way. That is all.” Mustang stated.

“You’re coming here? You sure that’s a good idea?” Alphonse asked whispering as he noticed one of the soldiers taking special interest in their conversation.

“It’ll be fine. I want to meet this dragon face to face, especially since it’s sentient. I’ll give you my car number, you call me when they get back. And keep me updated on those Drachman spies.” Mustang ordered.

“You forget Fuhrer that we’re not under the service of the military.” Alphonse said with a twinge of sarcasm, trying to imply something with his tone.

“Then I hereby draft Edward and Alphonse Elric in the service of the Amestris military and give you both the title of Brigadier General. I’ll write up the paperwork and send it out while I’m on my way. Sound good to you?” Mustang asked smiling.

“My brother and I accept. I’ll inform him when he returns. Anything else sir?” Alphonse asked while chuckling to himself.

“Just be careful Al, I want you all safe by the time I get there.” Mustangs words turned soft as he said them, betraying his stern leader front he was trying to uphold. Alphonse quickly jotted down the number as Mustang recited it, making double sure it was correct.

“Will do sir. See you soon.” Alphonse affirmed as he hung up the phone. He set it down with a sigh and straightened himself. He walked back into the room as Zampano and Jerso were exchanging binoculars. “It’s time to set some fortifications around here. I’ll need some backup.” He announced.

A few soldiers stepped forward offering their aid, which Alphonse greatly accepted. They went around the house quickly, Alphonse using his alchemy to form thick six-foot walls of stone and dirt around the house, while a soldier with a rifle provided information on the movements of the Drachman along with firepower should they need it. Jerso used his chimera body as a barrier between outside and Alphonse. Within a few minutes the entire house from top to bottom was covered, ready for almost anything. Alphonse made sure to create small windows that the soldiers could peer through to keep tabs on the spies still lurking around.

“That should about do it for now. Let’s see if they’re back yet.” Alphonse patted Jerso on the shoulder and turned just in time to see Winry running from one end of the house toward the door leading to the basement carrying an armful of medical supplies.

  ***

  Edward awoke in total darkness, feeling as if he was floating, or was it falling? He couldn’t even see his hands, or any part of him for that matter. He groped around trying to feel for anything as the mounting panic started to take over his mind. He was able to breathe, at least he thought he was, as he took deep breaths to try and calm himself. 

“Where am I? What is this place? Am I dead? What happened?” he thought frantically, attempting to move his arms in a swimming motion. 

Suddenly something grasped him on his arm, he panicked and went to grab at whatever had ahold of him. Then a soothing voice sounded in his head, “Calm Edward Elric. You are safe. Sorry about that, it’s been more than eight hundred years since I’ve last performed alchemy of this nature.” It was the voice of the dragon. He felt his entire body being enveloped in something that felt like a warm blanket as it guided them through the darkness. “It should be around here somewhere.” The dragon mumbled. 

“What should be? By the way you said it would only sting a little! I thought I was being burned alive.” Edward yelled with a twinge of fear. He wasn’t sure which was more unsettling, the all-white��void that he knew of when he passed through his Portal of Truth, or this all black one, with no distinguishing markings or objects in sight. “How can you see in this darkness? It’s pitch black!”

“Would you rather I have told you it hurt like hell? Ah, I forgot. Let me fix that for you. Um, just don’t freak out too much, I don’t have much in the way of a physical form here like you do.” The dragon cautioned haltingly.  

A moment passed then Edward felt something warm touch the center of his forehead, as the warmth spread throughout his body he felt oddly at peace. That was until the darkness lifted suddenly and he was blinded by a vast array of glowing colors. It seemed as if they were floating in a vast space of colors of all the rainbow, which swirled and danced around him. His body jolted and jostled as he frantically looked around trying to look for anything recognizable for his mind to latch onto. The swirling of colors made him dizzy as he closed his eyes for a moment, taking a few deep breaths before opening them again and trying again. It was then noticed he was somewhat encased in a blob of black liquid; it was odd how none of the glowing colors and lights reflected on its surface. As if he was in the center of a liquid black hole. The black mass was warm and undulated as they moved through the colors. 

“You handled that quite well. Doing alright?” the mass spoke. 

“So far so good. Where are we?” he breathed heavily. 

“You have your Portal of Truth, and I have mine. But take a closer look around you, you may just figure it out yourself. Now where is that damn door?” the mass grumbled.  

Edward looked around squinting as he tried to focus on one particular moving mass of color. He gasped as he recognized a face hidden within the swirls of color. 

“Dad?” he whispered. “These are memories.” Edward mumbled as he looked around trying to find the more recent events. 

“Sort of. Do you remember what you saw when you passed through your door?” the mass queried. 

“I saw my memories, but also things I couldn’t normally see like atoms and events that I wasn’t around for. I also didn’t get to choose the path I took as I moved through it. It, moved me.” He recalled, his face frowning in contemplation.  

“This is similar to that, only on a much higher scale for a being like me. Instead of seeing only things from our world. I receive images, feelings, and knowledge from our universe. I’m also not confined to one plane of existence as you are. But it is more difficult to pass through. Where you were guided, I must find my own path.” The mass spoke with a slight tone of annoyance. “Ah finally! Ehrm, this might be upsetting for you. Just know this, keep your sense of self. Remember who you are, don’t get sucked into your feelings. I’ll be with you the entire time, but you won’t be able to hear, feel, or see me.” The black mass spoke quickly as they moved closer to a speedily growing black hole. As it grew ten times its size in a blink of an eye, Edward looked panicked at the black mass holding him. 

“Wait, what’s about to happen?” he screamed as the panic in his voice mounted. 

“You’ll see, you’ve experienced it yourself on more than one occasion.” The dragon said just as they were both swallowed.

 In an instant Edwards mind was bombarded with information and images of places and things that he couldn’t recognize. He thought back to the last time he had passed through his own Door of Truth and tried to compare it to what he was experiencing. This one was more verbal than what he was familiar with, and the images were a jumble of a mess as they flew all around him. Voices of all different kinds of languages spoke in disjointed sentences. As if he was running down a busy city street, he caught snippets of different conversations. “Don’t hurt him!” “He’s with me!” “I told you I could handle this…” “Ty durak! Ty dumal, chto smozhesh' zashchitit' ikh.”

He could handle the voices, that wasn’t as grating as the barrage of flashing lights that were growing in intensity even when he closed his eyes. He was flooded with feelings of sadness, happiness, and fear all at once. Making him nearly loose himself in the feelings of others, but he held firm by repeating his own name in his head like a mantra. Suddenly it was as if he was thrown to the ground, then lifted again to float in midair. With a jerk he was then sent flying in one direction then just as abruptly sent into another. He was getting jostled around in every which direction, and it seemed to have no end. He felt close to vomiting before he was thrown to the ground again, making him close his eyes and shout in shock. As he opened them, he noticed he was on a surface that was completely white. He looked up and realized he was in a rather familiar looking location. As he grunted to his feet, he looked across from him to find the dragon, in its regular form, but laying lifeless on the ground.

“Hey, you ok?” he said cautiously as he took a few steps towards it. The dragon grunted and moaned softly before raising its head.

“I had a passenger this time you dumbass. Couldn’t you have waited a moment longer for me to set him down before laying into me?” the dragon growled.

Edward was taken aback at first then realized it wasn’t him it was talking to, but a white shapeless mass that was near them.

“Why do you think I went easy on you? Plus, this one’s already been here before. He knows the consequences.” The mass said with a laugh.

“That was being easy?” Edward remarked under his breath.

“Don’t tell me you’ve come to fix him? He’s already paid his dues and gotten what he wanted in return.” The white mass said, still chuckling at the dragon who remained on the ground. Edward realized that the dragon took the brunt of the onslaught, after noticing a small pool of blood on the pristine white floor. As the dragon slowly stood the blood disappeared and it looked unharmed. Edward took note of the dragons face filled with annoyance and mild pain.

The white mass moved closer to the dragon as if to intimidate it. “You know what will happen if you go through with this, won’t you?”

“What will happen?” Edward was genuinely curious, and the fact he was starting to feel ignored was a bit annoying.

“You mean, she hasn’t told you?” the white mass gasped, “Oh, this is too rich. Shall I enlighten him for you?”

“Enlighten me on what? Just what the fuck is going on here? Is someone going to explain anything to me?” Edward shouted at them both. The dragon’s head remained lowered but released a deep sigh.

“Your father was essentially a human philosophers stone; he held the souls of many thousands of people within him while also retaining a massive amount of power while being invulnerable.” Edward nodded his head as if to say he already knew this, and it wasn’t news to him. The dragon continued, “He and I were the same in that regard, only I don’t hold or use the souls of humans within me. Nor when I use my alchemy, I don’t use power in the same manner as he did. My soul is equal to that of the entire population of Earth.”

Edward frowned, trying to make sense of what the dragon was saying. “That can’t be right, one being has one soul. My father was an exception because of the alchemy that was performed on him at Xerxes. How does your soul equal more than one?”

“Why don’t you just show him what you mean rather than sit here and waste your time? You do realize the longer you’re in here, the less chance you have of this working. Remember what happened fifteen hundred years ago? Because I sure do, and I had a blast.” The white mass laughed. Edwards face contorted into pure confusion as he looked to the dragon for clarification.

“He’s right, we need to do this. No sense prolonging the inevitable. I do have one tip for you before we start. No matter what he says, you answer ‘yes.’ Got it?” The dragon gave him a pleading look, which only made him uneasy.

“O-ok. But what the hell is happening?” Edward asked with anger in his tone.

“You’re getting your door back and all the perks with it, now stand over here.” The white mass ordered with a sigh. “I was so hoping to be able to tease you some more, but this will have to do.”

Edward followed the white mass a few feet away from the dragon. Then two simple circles appeared beneath Edward and the dragon with a singular line connecting the two.

 The white mass moved to the center of the line and announced loudly, “Do you Edward Elric condone to the return of your Door of Truth?”

 “Y-yes.” He stammered.

 “And do you ⇆△▶→↦◢↦   ▲↕↙↕⊲↓↔↦ agree to aid in the recovery of his Door of Truth?”

 “Yes.” The dragon said firmly.

 “To perform such an action requires the soul of a willing being as payment, do you accept this payment Edward Elric?” The white mass asked, if a mouth were present it sounded as if it would have been smiling.

 “What? But-“ he stopped as he saw the angry look the dragon was giving him with eyes that could melt steel. “Yes.” He muttered. He didn’t like where this was going but it didn’t seem like he was allowed to choose.

 “Are you ⇆△▶→↦◢↦   ▲↕↙↕⊲↓↔↦, ready to offer yourself as payment on his behalf?” The white mass asked. “You can back down now, no need to put yourself in any more pain than you already are.” It whispered, but just loud enough that Edward was able to hear.

“I’m ready, just do it.” The dragon stated firmly, continuing to stare past Edward.

 “Alright then, so shall it be.” The white mass announced and as it did so, the circles and line lit up brightly, blinding Edward for a few moments before finally dying down. He looked up back at the dragon who was now walking toward him.

“Turn around.” The dragon smiled.

He turned slowly, thinking something scary or the white mass was going to be behind him to shock him in some way. Once turned, his face lit up with a bright smile as he saw his door in all its glory stand before him. He inspected it and found a few things were different this time, he turned to say something about it to the dragon but found the white mass standing directly behind him. He flinched backward in shock as a smile appeared on it.

“Enjoy it. I know I’m going to enjoy watching what will happen next.” It chuckled with a twinge of malice.

“Edward, it’s time to go. I don’t want to stay here any more than I have to.” The dragon said as it moved between them utilizing its body as a way of separating the two. As it backed away it laughed haughtily.

“I’ll be seeing you ⇆△▶→↦◢↦   ▲↕↙↕⊲↓↔↦, sooner than you think.” He shouted as the dragon grew a few feet bigger and scooped Edward into his arms while flapping its wings.

“I know. See you.” The dragon mumbled under its breath with a hint of sadness in its tone. Edward eyed the dragon as they flew toward a growing black hole, looking for any sign of damage.

“How are you fine? And you’re able to come back with me?” Edward asked, still thinking of what the white mass had said to the dragon during the transaction.

“The payment doesn’t take effect until we leave here. Edward, I have to be honest with you.” The dragon stopped flying and set him down a few feet before the looming black hole near them. Edward looked at the dragon with worry as he watched her expression change from concern to sadness.

“I’m sorry. I truly am about your father, and everything that you and your brother had to go through.” The dragon sighed. Edward started to say something but was stopped by a raised claw. “I should have been there, with you all on The Promised Day. I was going to repay the kindness that your father had shown me all those years ago. If I had been there…” The dragon paused, swallowing hard. “Not to mention the trouble I caused when I broke out from the cave. I cannot even begin to ask for forgiveness for…” The dragon was stopped this time by a comforting hand resting on the top of the dragons lowered head. “I failed you, can you ever forgive me?” it finished, a single tear trickled slowly down its face. The way it said this felt almost like it wasn’t only speaking to Edward, he felt as if the dragon was asking everyone for forgiveness. He blinked a few times, thinking through what he wanted to say.

“My brother and I went through a lot of heartache, and a lot of pain. But we figured out how to manage it and pulled through. We had friends and loved ones to help us along the way. We all have our low points, and we help each other through them.” He spoke slowly and carefully, trying to convey what he felt with each word. “While I’m mad that you would offer yourself as payment for my Door of Truth, I can only trust you did so to help me. Of that I’m grateful, if a bit peeved. I don’t think anyone would truly blame you for what happened in Xing, even if Lan Fan did yell at you.” He chuckled a bit, remembering her anger but knowing she didn’t honestly blame the dragon for what happened. “I forgive you. But next time, can you tell me what you’re planning to do and not after?” he smiled.

The dragon gave a sigh of relief and nodded its head slightly, sniffling as it did so. “I can’t promise everything all the time, but I’ll do my best.”

“So, you going to tell me what happens when we get back or am I just going to have to find out?” he asked with a hint of sarcasm.

The dragon chuckled and cleared its throat, its face turning somber in the next breath. “It won’t be pretty, at first. It will all depend on how extensive your Door was to restore. You had seen the Truth and had passed through it many times. I could be unresponsive, unable to hear, see or feel anything. I could also be experiencing excruciating pain continuously while simultaneously being unable to hear or do anything.”

“It varies that much?” Edward asked, taking in everything as much as possible.

“It can.” The dragon affirmed.

“You’ve done this before. I could tell with the way that thing was talking to you.” Edward stated as matter of fact.

“I have.”

“How many?” he prodded. “If you don’t mind me asking.” He added, trying not to force his questions on the dragon.

“Too many.” The dragon sighed. “I lost count when it hit over three hundred.”

Edward drew in breath through clenched teeth and was about to ask another question but noticed that the dragons form was starting to waver, and its scales started disappearing. “You seem to be flaking.” He pointed out. The dragon cocked its head to look where Edward was pointing then gave a look of terror.

“I’m sorry but it’s time we leave now, I promise I’ll try to answer all your questions as best I can. When I can.” The dragon said as it lifted itself into the air with a flap of its wings while grabbing hold of Edward around the chest. He gasped at the tight grip as they lunged into the black void, returning once more into the mess of color and light. He breathed heavily as they passed through it, this time without the added effect of being thrown around. Once through the dragon returned to the form of a nonreflective black mass wrapped around him and carrying him through the colorful array of memories. They traveled quicker this time as a bright white light flashed in Edwards eyes and he was back in the basement of the Rockbell home. He was standing right where he was before the transmutation as he looked around to see no one was with him, well almost no one. He looked down in horror to find the dragon laying in a heap on the floor, trembling and spasming as the skin on the dragons body peeled away showing muscle and bone, then in the next moment healing itself. This seemed to happen endlessly all over the dragons body. The dragon would pant and breath heavily for a few moments while growling in pain then suddenly stop for more than a few seconds and start up again. It was as if Edward was watching the dragon die over and over again.

[feverhalo]

A Quiet Day (FMA)

FMA Exhaustion!fic/Sick!fic

Sick/Exhausted!Ed, A+ Brother Al, and Parental Roy and Riza caring for the two of them awww

Basically some minimally edited (i read through it twice) indulgent shit because I had a sad and wanted to write something vaguely comforting.

1914 words long, and dreadful tense abuse im sure. No real warnings needed, but there is passing mention of their mom and kind of like that semi-depressed funk of exhaustion (or at least thats what it was supposed to be)

Ed laid with his head pillowed in his arms. He sniffled back the congestion causing his face to throb and felt it gather in the back of his throat. He kicked his good leg out from under the covers with a groan, and Alphonse found it hard to keep quiet.

 “Do you need medicine, brother?” Al’s shoulders slumped with a creak of the cold metal. Ed had been laying in bed like this for hours, not answering past head shakes or something so muffled Al couldn’t understand. “Can I at least take your temperature? We still have a thermometer somewhere…”

 Ed sniffed again and swallowed before shaking his head. He rolled to his side to look at Alphonse before rubbing at his watery, red-rimmed eyes and swiping his wrist under his nose. His head was so stuffed and felt so thick, and he tried to just wrap up in a blanket and sleep it off, but the stubborn lack of a fever made it feel silly. He stretched his arms over his head and felt his back pop and his heavy muscles pull. It almost felt good to sit up and stretch a little, but that energy would fade soon.

 “Are you going to finish getting dressed?” Al looked over to where Ed had dropped his night clothes, and managed to get his pants and one sock on before flopping back into bed. He hadn’t moved much until now, but somehow his loosely-tied hair was even more of a knotted mess.

 “I guess,” Ed’s one eye crinkled as he swallowed after speaking, arm brushing up under his chin before being used to push himself up.

 “Why don’t you just get back in pajamas? Pajamas are more comfortable, even Teacher let us have pajama days.” Just like mom, Ed straightened, more defiant at the unspoken comparison.

 “She’s not here.” He cleared his throat, grabbing the previously abandoned shirt and pulling it on. He eyed his red coat, and threw it over his shoulder before walking out.

 Alphonse sighed and got up to follow. Ed swiped at his nose again, sniffling before coughing into his elbow. The congestion was awful and, though it was only a few coughs the combination was enough to loose a few stray tears. Ed grumbled and wiped them away too before turning and stomping quickly down the stairs. Alphonse locked their door and followed, lighter on his feet and caught the door as it was swinging shut behind his brother.

 The brisk walk through the late-afternoon sun was quiet. Ed clearing his throat now and again, and Alphonse following behind. Anyone else walking on the street gave a wide berth or crossed to the other side. Ed would have likely bowled through them if they hadn’t, focused on moving forward. The steady thud and clang of his mismatched footsteps, the glint off his exposed automail arm, and the set glare on his face; with or without the tell-tale Fullmetal-Red cloak bunched up and slung over his shoulder it was surprisingly intimidating.

 For as listless as he had been all day, once he got to the military HQ, Ed seemed to have more of his energy back. Running on pure spite again, brother?  

 Mustang’s office doors were left slightly ajar to allow better airflow through the summer, and Ed just planted his foot and kicked it open as usual. He cleared his throat once more, and Alphonse noted the brief tensing across his older brother’s shoulders immediately afterwards.

 “Well. You’re here late,” Havoc blinked up at Ed from where he had been working.

 “Well, I’m here.” Ed threw his cloak onto one of the couches. He crossed his arms, forgetting for a second about how warm the automail would be after being outside in the summer sun in just a short-sleeved shirt, but he ignored the bite of the heat at the inside of his arm.

 “Alright,” Havoc held his hands up in surrender. “Hawkeye is out for a minute, but you’ve got some stuff on her desk there. Its all clipped together with your name on it.”

 Ed walked over and picked through some of the piles on her desk, and upon finding his name took that pile and dropped himself into a sitting position on the couch by the door. He tried to clear his throat again but it turned into a single, harsh, cough. Havoc kept to his work, and Alphonse eased himself down beside his brother.

 “Its empty in here today,” Al noted. Havoc chuckled and nodded.

 “It’s a bit of a ghost town, Falman is on vacation, Furey went with Hawkeye, the Boss is squirreled away in his office as usual- and I think Breda is still on the tail end of his vacation from last week actually. Its kind of that time of year where you take it or lose the chance until mid winter.”

 Ed zoned out, reading his paperwork or using his leg as a table to fill in the bits where he was required. As much as he’d prefer being out and researching with Al, and as much as he was teased or suspected of not being able to handle the military work because of his age, Ed could get it done well, and quickly.

 Usually, anyway. The package today seemed endless. He heard Riza and Fury return, and waved when he realized he was being spoken to. A heaviness was settling in across his shoulders and down his arm and into every inch of him again. He hadn’t felt particularly unwell, or dizzy, but this feeling came and went all day. He had nearly hit the floor getting out of bed late this morning because of it.

 Ed scratched at his head, undid and redid his mess of a ponytail, and reread the same page for a third time. He started to read it for a fourth, see if anything would sink in, but just sighed quietly and let himself slump into the high arm of the couch. The heaviness got too much and sapped everything when it hit, so he let it. He shut his eyes and let himself relax for a few moments.

 “How has today been Alphonse? Busy?” Riza looked up from her work now and again during their conversation, and seeing Ed break for a nap, she thought it would be a good time to ask.

 “Um,” Alphonse thought for a moment, “No more so than usual, I guess.”

 “You boys aren’t doing anything special for the summer?”

 “We thought of visiting Teacher, or maybe going to see Winry for a few days, but it just hasn’t felt like the right time I guess.”

 Nobody flinched anymore when Ed fell asleep, he was still young and working demanding hours, and on top of that had automail and other burdens too big for anyone to worry about. It wasn’t uncommon and work life continued around it. He’d usually have a quick ten minutes and wake up and get right back to what he had been doing, or on more trying days or days with heavy rain, he’d excuse himself for a few hours to sleep off the worst of his tension and exhaustion.

 Sleeping for a few hours sitting up, then staring at his leg in the twilight darkness of half-past nine at night was less common. Riza stayed behind with Roy when it was clear Ed was needing more than his usual bit of a rest, and it was just the four of them now in the dim office. One of the desk lamps was left on, and Alphonse was sitting on the other side of the room now with Roy and Riza.

 As Ed became more aware, he realized his coat had been draped over him and his paperwork moved to the desk a few feet away. He shifted a little, still feeling very heavy on top of sore from the slumped position.

 “You awake now, Fullmetal?” Ed cleared his throat and hummed in response to Roy’s question. “You don’t look awake.”

 Ed straightened and lifted his arms in a stretch from underneath his makeshift blanket. He yawned and rubbed at his eyes, before returning his head to the arm of the couch and staring across the room to the other three.

 “Can I finish that tomorrow? I feel really tired,” he pointed to his abandoned papers. Roy laughed through his nose.

 “I’d say so, you’ve been sleeping since four. If you’re that tired you don’t have to come in, Ed. We won’t be unreasonable.” Ed had shut his eyes again and just nodded. Everyone lapsed back into the quiet murmur of getting things put away for the day they had been in before Ed woke up.

 “I don’t feel well,” his cracking voice broke the silence a few minutes later. When he opened his eyes again everyone had moved and were getting ready to leave. “Can I just sleep here for the night, I don’t think I can make it back to our dorm. Sorry, Al.”

 “Don’t worry about it, we’ll drive you back.” Hawkeye sounded much closer now, and Ed felt her hand press to his forehead. There was no heat, but his face was so pale the lack of a temperature offered little comfort. “You just get home and sleep.”

 Ed dragged his eyes open for a second then nodded. He scrunched up his face against a stinging in his eyes before giving a quick cough and pushing himself up to sitting. Alphonse stood nearby, and Ed leaned against him every now and then on the short walk to the car.

 By the time Mustang had pulled up to their building, Ed had fallen asleep again. His breathing was leaving little puffs of mist on the side of Alphonse’s armor. Alphonse eased his way out of the car, going slowly and in short bursts trying to keep down the clattering noise he made.

 Mustang and Riza had exited the car as well, and Ed remained peacefully asleep. Alphonse had leaned down to wake up Ed, but Roy carefully moved his hand through Al’s line of sight to tap his shoulder.

 “I’ll take him up, if you and Hawkeye could hold the doors and show me where to go.” He rolled his shoulders before sitting in the car and leaning across the seat to ease Ed onto his back. “He’s a pain in the ass, but you two are a worthwhile pair of, well, just you, I guess. That was a lot less eloquent than I was trying for.”

 “Thank you, sir,” Alphonse stepped back and tucked into himself. Roy could imagine him as a boy like Ed, blushing in gratitude and slightly indignant at an adult interfering. Riza cleared her throat and pulled open the first door. The hour was getting late, and Ed was still just dozing in his t-shirt in the night air. It would be no good if he got a chill and a fever started.

 “Don’t worry about it. Just make sure you call us if you need anything, and try and keep him from making himself too sick.”

 Roy was quick to put Ed down, and to usher himself and Riza out. No need to over stay a welcome, and no need to work Ed up into a fit, he supposed. Alphonse was thankful for it, because it meant there was nothing he was going to be made to do out of obligation. He wanted to be ready if Ed needed him, and if he didn’t, he had a nice little stack of fiction novels to pass the night with.

 Ed slept.

[egoiistas]

1/100 - 100 days of rain

Military Personnel - Pure fluff

I’ve taken a dramatic step.  I’m gonna do the 100 Royai Theme challenge. I’ll make another post that I’ll update to link to the themes. I want and need the practice. Also on: ff.net I’ll also post this to AO3 eventually.

Ah! Thanks to BleedingCoffee for having the complete list up on their tumblr. It’s crazy how hard it was to find a complete list. So - without further ado

This was inspired from my own hubz being sick. And he was even so nice as to edit it for me <3 this is for him too.

Riza stared out the window from her desk. It was a gloomy day in East City with several dark clouds passing overhead and a forecast for rain. It was early and the office was all to herself; efficiency being her only companion.   

She looked back to the stack of papers, neatly lining them up. She began to reach for the stapler as the telephone for the office began to ring on the Colonel’s desk. It was still early enough that not many personnel would be in the building, much less making calls.

The Lieutenant quickly set the pile of papers down and felt the awful sensation of the edge of a paper slicing the outermost layer of her finger. Damn. She observed it begin to trickle blood. Putting the finger to her mouth, she sat at her commanding officer’s desk and answered the call. 

“Colonel Mustang’s office.” She looked downwards and began to search for bandage dressing in the drawers.

“Lieutenant…diligent as always…I knew you’d be there.”

She filtered through junk distractedly, “Colonel?”

“Lieutenant, I won’t be coming in today,” he coughed. “I’m sick.” 

Riza quirked an eyebrow. “That’s awful.” She said in her most unsympathetic tone. “What’s wrong?”

“I think I have a cold. You can hear it in my voice, can’t you?” She heard something all right. “My chest feels like it’s caving in. I may die.”

His voice mimicked the sounds of someone intentionally blocking their nasal airways with their fingers. She deadpanned into the telephone, “I’m sure you’re not dying, sir. Although, I find it convenient for you to fall deathly ill at the beginning of the week.”

“It’s all coincidence. Please, do something for me.”

“What is it?”

“Bring me breakfast.”

Riza paused, feeling a vein begin to suspiciously flare on her forehead. “I am not bringing you breakfast.”

“There’s a light… at the end of a tunnel.” He pleaded. “Should I go to it, Riza?”

“You must be joking.”

“No… I’m faaading.” The Colonel acted out, feigning coughs in between each word.

The Lieutenant let out an exasperated sigh. His entire dramatic charade didn’t do well to convince her, but she yielded, grabbing a notepad and ink. “All right, what do you want?”

The door into the office opened as Riza replaced the telephone into the holder, watching Jean Havoc stroll in looking like he could use an extra hour or three of sleep. “Good morning, Second Lieutenant.” She greeted brightly, grabbing her military coat on top of her chair. “I’m heading out so I’m leaving it to you for now.”

“All right,” he yawned. “Where are you going?”

“The Colonel is sick and he’s made a formal request for a baby-sitter.” 

Jean chuckled, drowsy from the early hour. “Get him a pacifier on your way over there.” He glanced down at her, pointing. “You should probably get a bandage for that finger.” 

“Oh,” Hawkeye looked at it. Smeared blood painted her finger. “Right. Thanks.”

The rain began to pour when she climbed the steps to his apartment, take-out food in tow. Riza shook her head. Her mind was distracted – the image of her umbrella leaning against her desk became so vivid. She gave the Colonel’s door handle a try with success.

The sight of the Colonel was hilariously pitiful: sitting up in his bed with blankets, pajamas and tousled dark hair. His nose was red and his eyes looked swollen. He managed a smile with a look of congested stupor.  “Good morning,” he rasped.

Riza set the food on the side of his bed and placed the back of her hand on his forehead. “Well, well. A slight fever.”

He narrowed his already puny eyes, “You thought I was faking it, didn’t you?”

She held back, handing him the broth he so urgently demanded. “That’d be dangerously close to insubordination.”

“I can think of more severe ways to commit insubordination.” He smirked, wiggling his right eyebrow.

How he thought of that in his state of mind was beyond her. Riza offered feigned concern, “I wish I could understand you, sir. But your congestion makes it so difficult.” The Colonel’s face fell, mumbling about how cold she was.

Hawkeye brought over a bowl with cool water and a folded cloth submerged in it, placing anti-inflammatory medicine right next to a glass of water. “Colonel, you have medicine and a cloth for your fever once you lie back down. Additionally, make sure to drink plenty of fluids. It’s essential for your recovery.”

The rainfall wasn’t letting up, she noticed. Normally, a little water wouldn’t bother her, but she also didn’t want to get pummeled by rain if she didn’t have to. She peered outside, it looked more like a torrential downpour.

“Do you have an umbrella?” Riza asked him.

“It’s broken.” He said nonchalantly in between spoonfuls of soup.

She walked over to the umbrella holder she spotted and picked it up. “This one?” 

He nodded silently.

She opened it, searching for damage. “Where?”

The familiar snap and spark of alchemical electricity appeared before her and she instinctually jumped back before her eyebrows were singed off. The umbrella she was holding a moment before burned intensely in front of her as it fell. The scorched skeleton of the umbrella laid on the floor. Riza turned angrily towards to him, “Colonel!”

“I tried to tell you,” he said nasally, the pyrotex glove seemed to have magically appeared on the hand holding the cup soup. “It’s flammable. No good.”

She stomped over to him, pointing an incensed finger at him. “That wasn’t remotely funny,” she scolded. “You could incinerate your entire apartment being so stubbornly careless.”

His dark, puffy eyes didn’t even look at her, “What happened to your finger?”

Riza huffed, plopping on the side of his bed and eyeing her bandage. “It’s a paper cut.”

“And you call me careless.” He baited, placing his empty bowl to the side. “Let me see.” 

The Lieutenant displayed her bandaged finger, as if staring was going to heal the wound. The Colonel grabbed her hand with exaggerated concern and began to study the digit. She turned her attention to the storm outside - even if she did have an umbrella, visibility would be incredibly questionable by foot or car.

“I know what can make it better.” Riza turned to him as he kissed her finger. “There. All better.”

Riza felt the unsolicited blush creep across to her face. “Your fever is making you absolutely delirious.” She pulled back her hand. “Why?”

“Not delirious,” he said, looking satisfied. “Just grateful for the food.”

“An umbrella would have been sufficient,” Riza shot back at him.

“I used to have one, but someone burnt it to a crisp.” He flashed her a grin and she groaned, bringing a palm to her face. “I don’t know why you’re so wound up. It’s not like you’re going anywhere.”

“I’m being held hostage by my nasally superior officer.” Riza noted incredulously. 

“That’s not very nice, Riza. I prefer congested.”

Her annoyance was reaching its peak, though unnecessarily. She’s already ruled out walking or driving back to the Command Center. Riza smiled at him.

He was right, she wasn’t going anywhere.

[writing-royza]

Tainted Blood, Tainted Soul: Chapter Fourteen – Conclave

A/N: Happy Monday, everyone! What a nice, calm weekend, nothing really major going on. A nice movie night in with a close friend, gaming and writing Sunday while chilling with the cat…. If next Monday weren't a holiday, I'd be starting to feel bummed about starting the work week again. At least this week, there's some sexy time Royza to keep us entertained. Usual other warnings apply.

I do not own FMA.

Chapter Fourteen - Conclave

EASTERN COUNTRYSIDE, AMESTRIS

2143 HOURS, APRIL 19

There was something thrilling about it, this act of forbidden love taking place more or less in the open. All that hid them from prying eyes were the canvas-covered sides of the military truck and the fact that they hadn't seen another soul for hours. Though it was only approaching mid-spring, the air was already warming with the heat of the desert environment they were approaching, dry air lying on the landscape like light fabric.

Riza glanced back over her shoulder as the fabric flap covering the back of the truck waved lightly in the breeze, showing a brief glimpse of sparse grasslands, starry nighttime skies, and the small campfire they had left outside. A moment later, fingers touched her chin, turning her to face forward again.

"Hey." Roy's dark hair seemed to blend into the bedroll underneath him, but his eyes were bright in the shadows. "It's okay; if we'd been followed, we would know by now. Relax."

Taking a deep breath, she nodded, turning to press a quick kiss to his fingers. "I know. No military running after us, no serial killer tracking us down, no reporters waving subpoenas…." Leaning down from her place settled comfortably on his hips, she kissed him again, this time on the lips.

"And if either of the latter two do happen to show their faces…." He grinned, lifting one hand from her thigh to snap ungloved fingers. "Then I think it's my turn to handle them."

As he had no doubt intended, that drew a genuine smile. "And wouldn't that be a sight," she countered, her eyes wandering south along his bare chest. "A half-naked man shooting fire as journalists and mysterious murderers alike cower in fear? My hero."

"Someone ought to paint that." He returned his hand to her, slipping it under the hem of the blouse he had pulled from its place tucked into the waistband of her rucked up skirt. "I'll hang it on the wall of the Presidential office once I'm Führer. An office needs at least one bragging point, as a conversation starter."

She suppressed an anticipatory squirm as the back of his fingers ghosted over her ribcage. "And yet," she pointed out, "your current office is noticeably devoid of bragging points. Care to explain, sir?"

She was fully aware she was doing it: the high-quality words, the use of an honourific, the way she shifted minutely to let his hand slip to her back… Riza Hawkeye knew all too well how to mix teasing and accommodation to rile Roy Mustang, and from the way his eyes locked on to hers, she also knew she had succeeded once again.

"Damn, you're good," he muttered, the words a low growl in his throat. The hand on her back pulled, drawing her closer, down against his chest, and Riza met the rough kiss with equal fervour. Keeping one hand braced on the floor beside his head, she touched the other one to the side of his face, feeling the way the muscles moved subtly as the kiss deepened, subsided, deepened….

From her seat, she could feel him begin to respond, and shifted her hips in answer. He grinned against her lips, his free hand diving beneath the folded fabric of her skirt to skate teasingly up the outside of her leg to her hip. Curious fingers briefly explored the line of her panties before slipping beneath to press flush against her skin. His thumb pressed into the hollow where the hip joined abdomen to leg, and Riza rewarded him with a sharp inhale through her nose.

She had to lift herself to reach, her hand leaving the side of his face to undo his belt. A moment later, she abandoned the kiss to focus on undoing the button and fly beneath. She was aware, from the corner of her eye, of him watching her before he tilted his head to the side to watch the movement of his hand under her clothes as it slid from her hip to her backside.

His attention, however, snapped back to her as she pulled away, his mouth opening to ask what she was doing… but he paused at the sight of the mischievous spark in her smile. Bracing herself by way of both knees on the floor, Riza got a grip with both hands on the waistband of both pants and boxers. She waited for a pair of heartbeats, watching as the realization dawned on him what she was about to do… and then pulled. Hard.

Roy's surprise was evident in his raised eyebrows when his clothes ended up nearly to his knees, dark eyes following her as she moved back closer. "I don't remember you being to do that before," he commented, hands going instinctively to her hips to help her balance as she resettled herself. "I mean, you've tried, I know, but it never wo–"

The word disappeared into a faint, open-mouthed gasp as she brushed against him, sending his hands tightening involuntarily. Riza lifted her hips away from him again, watching with a not-quite-smug smile as he recovered himself. His self-control dissolved into another sharp breath as she reached down, her fingers almost stealthy as they wrapped around his length.

"Then I suppose it's a good thing it did work," she murmured, her voice low and even. She bent close, making sure she had the full attention of those dark eyes. "I'm getting tired of waiting… Roy."

She had expected his hurry to get rid of the panties impeding their progress, but not the method. Roy's dangerous grin was her only warning, before her skirt flipped up in back, his hands clapped once, and then pressed to the soft cotton. In another instant, the fabric just… disintegrated.

He pulled the shredded remains of the garment from her, holding them up as though for inspection. "Fast enough for you?"

Riza didn't answer, merely shifted her position, let go, and gave him entrance.

The first thrust dropped her head to his chest, her fingers clenching on his shoulders. Roy's breath came out in a shudder in her hair, one hand keeping her close on her lower back, the other protectively on the nape of her neck. The second drew a moan that forced her mouth open, her lips growing salty as sweat began to gather in the warm night. After the third, she felt his body flex, his arms tightening as he held her to him and sat up.

Both his hands went to her hips, tugging her closer with each thrust, hers rising to tangle in his hair. The kisses in between were rough and undisciplined, before he turned his attention elsewhere. One hand lifted from her waist long enough to free the first three blouse buttons from their holes, opening the path for his lips.

Riza's head tilted back, letting the sensations wash over her and carry her along. Her fingers tightened as he kissed a slow, tortuous path from the hollow of her throat down the centre of her chest before veering left to the gentle curve of a breast. The same hand as before freed itself, making no attempt at preamble but pulling aside the fabric of shirt and bra to grant him access.

She barely heard the low hum in her throat or felt the convulsive grip of her fingers as a wet tongue dragged itself over the nipple. She wasn't entirely aware of the way she pressed herself further onto him… but he was.

"Oh… so she likes attention paid to things other than her legs," he murmured, his voice husky from his own arousal, and the grin evident in his tone. Roy lifted his head enough to meet her wide eyes, his half-closed in pleasure. "Makes me wonder what you'd do if I –" His finger flicked, brushing over the damp patch, and Riza's eyes closed. "– did it again…."

She dropped her chin, their foreheads pressing together. "Do it."

Roy never had been one to deny her much.

Their tempo picked up, and in between moments of near-transcendence, Riza kept track of the myriad of signals his body gave. His breath came in pants, growing steadily more ragged in time with the tightening of his grasp on her hip and the transition of each thrust from measured to tightly controlled as he worked to draw out his stamina. Riza registered vaguely that her own breathing was still even, although her skin glistened with sweat and every inch of her tingled with want.

When she came, it was almost without warning. Roy appeared to catch the barest hint of her body going slack for an instant, and dropped flat to his back again. The motion pushed him farther inside at the crucial moment, and Riza felt something like the shockwave of a detonation explode outward from somewhere near her solar plexus.

She had time for the shortest of glimpses of his face – sweat running into dark eyes that were wide with victory and a predatory grin that showed his own desire – before her back arched, and she screamed her orgasm to the canvas covering of the truck bed.

He was right behind her, the sudden buck of his hips nearly throwing her off-balance into one of the wooden supply crates; she looked down in time to see his head thrown back as hers had been, the line of his jaw tight with clenched teeth, and a streak of colourful curse words being directed toward the truck cab.

Feeling her muscles go slack, dropping her into the warm, soft grasp of the afterglow, Riza eased him from her before stretching out alongside him on the bedroll. Shaking her bangs from her eyes, she didn't try to smother a smile at the way his gaze was still fixed on the canvas 'ceiling.'

One finger reached out to trail over his cheekbone. "What's this look?"

Lolling his head in her direction, he gave her a grin that was still halfway punchdrunk with pleasure. "The one that says I've been screwed halfway senseless, I think." Rolling onto his side, he paused a moment to hike his pants back up, leaving them undone around his hips.

Riza allowed herself to be tugged close against his chest, breathing in the smell of him… and was struck by a memory. A memory at least ten years old, of a fifteen-year-old boy that had stayed in her father's house, walking with her on the road to town in the summer heat with one arm around her shoulders in comradely fashion. Here, in the warm evening, his arm around her with the smell of ink-covered paper, light sweat, and him….

He was watching when her head came up, and those dark eyes had no trouble reading the expression in hers. His eyebrows lifted. "…You can't possibly be game to go again. It hasn't even been two minutes yet."

She shrugged one shoulder, though the usually sheepish gesture was entirely unabashed. "I can't explain it, I just feel what I feel. I don't think there's any controlling that."

Roy rolled his eyes good-naturedly before extricating himself and getting to his feet. One hand reached out to her. "Come on, up you get."

Feeling slightly puzzled — this was not the reaction she had been expecting — she accepted the hand up. No sooner had she gained her feet than she was backed gently against the stacks of supply crates to one side. Pleasantly surprised, she watched that familiar trickster's grin expose his teeth, his left hand snaking from her hip down her leg.

"Better hang on to something," he murmured, pressing close against her, ducking his head so that the words ghosted over her ear in a rush of warm breath. Riza wrapped her arms loosely around his neck, knowing they would tighten before long, and buried her nose against his shoulder.

Paper… sweat… him.

The lowering hand was joined by the other, the pair of them beginning the teasing, inexorable raise of her skirt. His lips brushed against the curve of her ear as he said, "I'm definitely not complaining… but it does strike me as odd that you'd choose to travel in anything other than pants…."

Her laugh was low in her throat, more a stuttered exhale than anything. "When all I'm required to do is sit in the cab of a truck for hours on end? I didn't think you'd mind having scenery other than the landscape to look at…."

"You would dare distract the driver?"

"I would also rather not be cooked alive by the warmth during the daytime." She squirmed slightly with anticipation as his fingertips brushed the inside of her thigh. "I don't know if you noticed, but the truck cab gets really — oh…."

She heard the soft clap in the middle of her sentence, the words breaking off into a gasp as a tingling cold fire shot up through her core as he let the alchemy run free. Riza's arms tightened around his neck, lifting herself half an inch higher, even as his fingers delivered a teasing stroke that drew a low, near-desperate moan from deep in her throat.

"You said you wanted more," he reminded her, his voice deep and soft in her ear. If she hadn't been holding on to him so tightly, she had no doubt her knees would have given way and dumped her unceremoniously on the floor. Her nose still nestled against his shoulder, she hummed in pleased satisfaction at a second, agonizingly slow stroke of his fingertips. His laugh was quiet, showing that he knew exactly what to do to get a reaction. "How about you make that sound for me again, love?"

When she opened her mouth, she fully intended to give him what he asked for. Instead, almost on instinct, she closed her teeth around the top of his shoulder. Not forcefully, not enough to penetrate the fabric of his shirt, let alone his skin; just enough to evidence her pleasure and deny him his request.

He started to say something else, then abruptly froze. His head came up, turning toward the canvas flap over the rear of the truck, listening. Her mind still swirling in a fog of desire and love chemicals, Riza used the respite to take a deep breath, leaning back against the crates. She almost groaned aloud when Roy's hands dropped from beneath her skirt and he gently extricated himself from her arms.

"Wait here," he murmured, touching a steadying hand to her shoulder before starting for the flap. She watched him do up his pants, the motions almost automatic as he focussed instead on whatever he had heard outside… and then she was hearing it, too. A sound like stuttered thunder came from out on the plains surrounding their little encampment, drawing slowly closer.

Roy stuck his head out just quickly enough to spot the approaching group, then spoke over his shoulder. "My gloves are in the front; I think I know who our visitors are, but just in case I'm wrong…."

"Got it." She watched him pass through the canvas and drop to the sandy soil before wrenching her mind away from thoughts of their little tryst and back to business. Working quickly, she adjusted her skirt and blouse back into proper position, and ran a pair of quick hands through her hair to make sure it wasn't in disarray. The underwear was a lost cause, but she would just have to deal without it. She was just packing up the bedroll they had spread out when the hooves of the approaching horses drew to a stop outside the vehicle, voices taking their place. She stowed the bedroll by the crates and after a quick check that she wouldn't be visible to their visitors, slipped through the narrow gap in the partition between the cab and the truck bed.

It was the work of another ten seconds to snatch Roy's gloves and tuck them into the waistband of her skirt at the small of her back — she didn't know when women's clothing designers would add pockets to skirts, but she hoped it was soon — before opening the driver's side door and slipping out into the gathering night.

The men assembled turned to look in her direction as she closed the door behind her; Riza could only recognize a few. Roy stood with his hands resting casually on his hips, talking to Scar and Miles. Both men had dismounted and were holding the reins of their horses, their postures relaxed and unthreatening. Three other Ishvalan men remained in their saddles, alternating between watching their leaders conversing with the Amestrian stranger and studying the blonde woman who had suddenly appeared. Riza glanced once in their direction before crossing to join the discussion.

Miles offered her a small smile as she reached them. "Ah, Lieutenant. I was wondering where you might have gotten to. I hope your journey thus far has gone well."

"Pleasantly uneventful, sir," she answered, offering a brief salute. Just because neither he nor she was currently in uniform didn't negate the fact that he still outranked her. "At least compared to the few days we spent in East City."

"So we heard," Scar put in. The look he gave her was appraising, as though he were mentally reconciling the stories he had heard with the woman in front of him. "Word travels fast even out here."

Riza was spared the embarrassment of having to discuss the matter further by Roy's intervention. "Then you should also know that we've left the East City investigation in the hands of Major Armstrong and the rest of my staff. We were given the green light to take the first steps to changing the Ishvalan policies and rebuilding the region." He nodded toward the truck. "We brought enough with us to at least set up an outpost, and we can requisition more supplies as we need them."

Passing the reins of his horse to Miles, Scar stepped forward to push the canvas aside, peering into the truck's dim interior. Riza caught Roy's glance sliding in her direction, his expression a silent question - Evidence? She gave the smallest possible shake of her head. None.

"Impressive," the warrior remarked. "For having limited planning time, it's well put together."

"Thanks." Roy glanced from Scar to Miles. "Forgive my curiosity, but… we're still a day's travel from Jadad. What brings you out this far?"

"Isn't it obvious?" Miles shrugged. "When we heard you were on your way, we came to meet you, and to give you a crash course in culture before you got into public view in the city."

"Adherence to tradition is stricter here than in the cities and slums of Amestris," Scar elaborated, rejoining them. "There, they don't practice the old ways as much, to avoid persecution. But here…. This is our holy land and our home. Here, the traditions are strong."

He indicated the three men travelling with them. "These are the foremost clan leaders from the Gunja, Daliha, and Kanda regions. Each province has its own needs and requirements for the rebuilding effort, and we thought it would be best for you to get to know the clan leaders before we are in a place to really get down into the details."

"Makes sense." Roy's eyes flitted in her direction again, before his head tilted slightly to where their campfire had guttered low over the last hour or so. Riza acknowledged with a wordless nod before stepping away from the group.

She listened without watching as she stirred the fire coals back to life, adding a few fresh pieces of wood from the supply they had brought with them. With the faint sheen of sweat from earlier and Roy not close enough to warm her, she was beginning to feel the cool night air, but where the afterglow would normally have her feeling drowsy, she instead felt… alive.

Kneeling comfortably on the soft prairie grass, her feet tucked under her and her hands folded neatly in her lap, she watched as the three clan leaders bowed to Roy, and as he returned the gesture with his expression a perfect solemn mask. He said something she didn't quite catch to Scar, who apparently translated to the other three, and the group moved in her direction.

The clan leaders approached her one by one, each pressing his palms together and murmuring a single word in Ishvalan as he bowed, hands rising to forehead level. Riza returned to gesture, the brief instruction she had received from the scant information available in Amestrian source books reminding her that there was a happy medium to be found between too low of a bow and not low enough…. Regardless, that little hurdle overcome, the men settled down around the fire.

Miles was the first to speak. "Lieutenant, I'd like to present Leader Dharva, from Gunja province, Leader Mharyys from Daliha, and Leader Kalsban from Kanda. Would you prefer them to know your full name, or just your rank and surname?"

"Since we'll be working so closely, I can't see how it would hurt to use my full name," she answered, careful to keep her tone professional and polite. Roy nodded agreement.

Scar took over, speaking to the men in the Ishvalan language. Riza hadn't had much cause to hear it, since snipers had a tendency to hang back in battle groups that went head-to-head with an opponent, but she had always enjoyed the almost musical lilt to the words. That sound, coming from a rough, craggy face like Scar's, provided an interesting juxtaposition. They were mixed with the blunt Amestrian syllables of 'Colonel Roy Mustang' and 'First Lieutenant Riza Hawkeye.'

Surprise overtook the clan leaders, along with murmurs of reaction. Dharva said something in reply to Scar, and the big man turned to look in her direction. "He's apologizing. They didn't realize you were a soldier as well." A smile tugged at the corner of his mouth for the space of an instant. "He said they thought the Colonel had decided to bring his wife with him."

Someone else in the same situation might have gotten flustered, or at the very least, blushed. Roy, however, smiled easily, and shook his head. "We've been known to argue like we are, but the Lieutenant and I aren't married," he explained. "She's my assistant and my bodyguard, and we've worked closely for several years."

Upon the translation, all three clan leaders laughed at the joke, nodding their understanding. Across the fire, Riza caught the slow lowering of Miles' shoulders as he breathed a surreptitious sigh of relief. He glanced up, catching her eye, and nodded approval; getting to a comfortable level with the clan leaders had apparently been a point of concern for him.

When the laughter and murmuring had subsided, Roy resettled himself in a businesslike fashion. "I'll lay out how I'd like things to go," he said, speaking unhurriedly so that Scar could provide a running translation. "If at any time you have questions, concerns, or a different idea, just let me know. Fair?" A round of nods followed the end of the Ishvalan words.

She was aware if the deep breath he took only through knowing him so well. "We stand at the beginning of new understanding between two peoples," Roy began. "The Amestrian leadership is willing to acknowledge where we went wrong, and explain how, under the previous administration, things became as bad as they did. We want to make amends and reparations for the atrocities committed against your people. Part of the purpose of our trip is to lay the groundwork for a treaty or an accord that will fully commit Amestris to this cause."

He indicated Riza with a tilt of his head. "Lieutenant Hawkeye has full working knowledge of the Amestrian military Administration system, and can draw up any such document to the satisfaction of all."

Leader Mharyys held up a hand, forestalling further comment. Scar provided the translation of the melodic words that followed. "We look forward to working with a reformed Amestrian government, especially since it appears King Bradley has been permanently removed from power. However, Colonel, I cannot help but think that whatever accord we come to while you and your assistant are here will receive negative reaction from your countrymen."

Nodding in agreement, Leader Dharva added, "Not all Amestrians view the Ishvalan people in the same warm light as you, Colonel."

Roy's tone turned firm, but not angry. "It maybe be a bitter pill for some to swallow," he admitted. "But I would sooner see my country acknowledge its mistakes and pay for them than continue on merrily as though nothing had happened." He made direct eye contact with each leader. "A body of people follow their leader. If the leader makes bad decisions, the people are dragged into the consequences. But if the leader makes good decisions, the people will thrive."

Leader Kalsban broke into a large grin, and spoke rapidly. Even unfamiliar as she was with the language, Riza caught the distinct rhythm and matching sounds of a rhyme.

"He quoted an old proverb," Scar explained. "It loses a little something in translation, but the gist of it is, 'If a shepherd leads his sheep into the desert, they will drink only dust. But if he leads them to the river, the water will sustain them."

Roy smiled. "I bow to the wisdom of your elders, then."

"Best you actually do it, then." Miles murmured. "We're a very literal people. Very 'do what you say and say what you mean,' if you get my drift."

"Fair enough." So saying, Roy pressed both hands to the scrubby grass, bending until his forehead nearly touched them, and held the pose for a brief moment before straightening. Riza watched the expression of the leaders as he did so, seeing the pleased and even slightly impressed expressions cross their faces. In his humility, she felt pride for him.

Leader Dharva was not long in beginning the dialogue again. "We are very open to any ideas Amestris may have for helping us to rebuild," the translation went. "However, there is one small stipulation we feel we must request." He raised one arm, gesturing the the expanse of flatland fading away into the eastern distance. "Ours is a holy land, Colonel, dedicated to Ishvala and our preservation of his name and worship. We realize it is not your religion, whatever that may be, but we will require all those who live and work in the region during its reconstruction to be formally consecrated by a priest of Ishvala."

Quick to accurately judge the surprised look that passed between Colonel and Lieutenant, Leader Kalsban added, "Please do not be alarmed. We do not ask that you fully commit to the religion. It is not consecration in the way that you are inducted into a religious sect. It is…." He faltered, searching for the right description, and Scar paused in the translation until Kalsban continued. "It is as it was with one of the older religions of your country, that has since become obscure, I think. Where a new building or marriage would be blessed by a priest to gain God's favour in work or life."

She watched him allow the understanding to show on his face, before he smiled pleasantly and nodded. "Whatever you see fit is what we are here to do," he answered. "If Ishval is ever to be remade again in the image of your God, we will do whatever we need to."

Joyful exclamations and clapping met this comment, once translated, and the three leaders got to their feet. Before either Roy or Riza could do the same, each had one of the men crouching in front of them. Leader Mharyys took Riza's face in both hands, pressing a whiskery kiss to the centre of her forehead. The process was repeated with Leader Dharva, and finally, Leader Kalsban.

Scar was watching with a small smile when the display was over. "They accept you," he said simply. "You will be consecrated when we reach Jadad tomorrow; it must be done inside a temple. Blessings given in the field are for victims of war or the very poor."

When he glanced over toward her, Riza saw her own thoughts mirrored in Roy's dark eyes.

We've almost made it….

EAST CITY

2220 HOURS, APRIL 19

Standing hidden in the dark shadows on the roof, the man leaned back against the tall brick column of a chimney, his eyes closed in both concentration and pleasure. The mix of thoughts swirling through the Lieutenant's mind, even at the distance separating them, were a heady brew. Vague, imagined sensations ghosted over him, the feeling of hands, the softer touch of a mouth….

He grinned. Mustang would more than mortified if he knew the touches he left on his Lieutenant's skin were being broadcast to another mind hundreds of miles distant.

That being said, it wasn't as though he had a private phone line to the Lieutenant's mind. During the day, her connection still waned, her growing powers and his own weakened by the sun. But the nights…. Oh, the nights were better. Like radio airwaves clearing as the moon rose, her thoughts came less vaguely, and the impressions were clearer.

All at once, the lascivious little sensations stopped, and Hawkeye's sense took on an alertness… and then purpose.

The man frowned, attempting to narrow his focus… and felt the impression blur and diffuse, as though through frosted glass. A brief flash of recognition, another of calm camaraderie fading into polite professionalism…. After that, he could glean nothing else useful.

Or could he? That second-to-last feeling, the one of recognized friendship…. Who would she have those feelings toward so deep in the East? The quick answer was the Elric brothers, which did make a certain amount of sense. The boys would no doubt have, at the very least, a passing interest in going to Ishval… but they had likely only just arrived home themselves. They would be too preoccupied with catching up with their childhood friend, the pretty blonde automail mechanic, to even think of flitting off again for adventure.

Besides which, hadn't the younger Elric been severely malnourished when the man had seen him in hospital? Travelling home would be an ordeal in itself, let alone Ishval. So no, the person or persons that Lieutenant Hawkeye's mind had recognized as friendly…. It had to be someone else.

Tilting his head back, gazing up at the half-moon gleaming softly like an opal on black velvet, the man smiled, knowing the same moon was watching over the Lieutenant no matter how far away she was. "What friend have you found, little bird?" he murmured, feeling the now familiar presence still swaying and swirling at the edge of his mind. He felt it foremost in his left temple. Facing south as he currently was, it made sense; it was something like a mostly indirect compass, telling him which direction she lay in, but not how far. Distance didn't matter.

Or rather, it mattered very little. His expression turning thoughtful, the man kept his gaze on the moon. Suppose he were to go after her. He had no reason not to, really; there wasn't anything tying him to this city. The question of transport was something else entirely, though. Had the railway to the Ishvalan regions not decayed without use, he could have easily climbed aboard the next train heading in that direction, but now he faced the same overland journey the Lieutenant had.

Sustenance would prove the most difficult part. Without a reliable source of human blood, he would have to take things slow and conserve his powers and energy. No travelling in his stretched-out form to cover the distance more quickly, since it would only drain him more quickly. He would need to go the old-fashioned —

A new thought stopped him in his mental tracks, with the realization that perhaps he could achieve faster travel… if he took along provisions. With his new stealthy abilities, stealing what he would need would be the work of a single night, and easy work at that.

A tent to protect him from the sunlight during the day, allowing him to rest up, an insulated container and dry ice to carry what he needed… and the stores at the East City Military Hospital would have all the easily-transportable blood he could ask for.

A large, predatory grin stealing across his face, the man turned his gaze from the moon and slipped off deeper into the city shadows. There were preparations to make, a journey to undertake… and then the Lieutenant would be within reach once again.

[writing-royza]

Two Hundred and Eighty-six – Syllogism, 3.0

A/N: Happy Sundaym everyone! Just a quick reminde tgat next week will be the ever-incredible Royai Week, so check back every day between June 11–17 for a new short story every day! For now, though, here’s this cute little thing.

I do not own FMA.

Two Hundred and Eighty-six – Syllogism, 3.0

He was taking a page from the Riza Hawkeye School of Thought. Normally, by his birthday, plans had been in place for at least two weeks, usually three. They tended to follow a pattern: dinner someplace appropriately masculine or stylish – a steakhouse or even just a nice restaurant – followed by drinks at whatever bar that currently held his favour.

Yet Roy could feel himself beginning to tire of that particular scene, and so this year, had adopted a strategy known to be used by Riza herself: he simply didn’t mention his birthday at all. Whoever was the first to mention it would have first call on whatever celebrations followed.

As well as he knew her, he had strongly suspected that the first acknowledgement would come from Riza herself. Yet here it was, three hours in at the office on his birthday, and no one showed any indication that they knew what day it was.

Returning from getting a cup of coffee, Roy cast a surreptitious look around the room. One or two of them looked up, out of curiosity at who was entering, but showed no particular interest. Riza must have caught the slight disappointment in his look, because her eyes stayed fixed on him as he made for his desk, but she made no move to question if he was all right.

Or perhaps, he reflected as he caught sight of his desk chair, she was watching for his reaction to the manila envelope sitting on the seat with a large red bow attached to the sealing flap.

“…What’s this?”

He looked up to find Riza’s attention on her work, her pen continuing its inexorable scrawl across the page. “The bow would seem to suggest it as some sort of gift, sir.”

He fought the impulse to roll his eyes. She was toying with him. “Got that part,” he said. “Who is it from?”

That got her attention, though the only sign of it was that her pen stopped and she lifted her head slightly. “It doesn’t say?”

“It’s just a blank envelope,” he answered, turning the little package over in his hands in case he had missed some tiny addressing line. “Did you see who left it here?”

“Of course.” Her smile was small, but sly, “I did.”

Roy froze, taking in that look. That grown-up version of the old playground taunt: ‘I know something you don’t know.’ He tapped the envelope gently against his open palm, eyeing her closely. “You put it there… but I am I right in thinking it’s not from you?”

“You are.”

“I see. You’re just the delivery service for someone else….” He shook the envelope lightly, hearing paper shift inside. “It seems to me that this looks a lot like paperwork, and since you’re the one who brings me paperwork from Administration, then logic would suggest that this is from Administration and someone put a bow on it as a joke.”

Riza had given up trying to work for the moment, watching him with her chin in one hand and an inscrutable expression. The men were beginning to look up from their desks, one or two grinning as they caught on to what was happening. “That’s one theory, sir,” his Lieutenant answered. “But I can confidently say that that is not from Administration.”

“I see….” Turning to look at the others, Roy lifted an eyebrow. “And just what do the four of you know about it?”

Breda shrugged expressively and spoke for all of them, though not without a hint of mischief. “Can’t say any of us had anything to do with it, Chief.”

Roy’s eyes narrowed slightly. “That’s not what I asked. You’re avoiding the question.”

“Put it this way,” Fuery interjected. “We know where it came from, and we know who it came from… but we didn’t set it up or anything.”

Pausing, still turning the envelope over in his hands, Roy gave that some thought. “If you know the person it came from… and Hawkeye was the one to deliver it…. Most likely someone inside Headquarters that isn’t Administration….” It was just on the tip of his tongue to guess ‘Grumman’ when he caught Havoc’s smothered snort of laughter. Dark eyes turned sharply in the blond man’s direction. “…maybe not from inside Headquarters.”   Havoc promptly stopped laughing.

“Someone on the outside then…. No postmark, so it wasn’t mailed to Hawkeye; it was hand-delivered, meaning someone inside the city itself.” That left him two distinct possibilities, but no way to narrow it down any farther, unless….

He was watching as Riza’s knowing smirk widened the instant he pressed his nose to the envelope. And a split second later, she nodded as he said, “Elicia.”

“She and her mother dropped it off with me last night, and asked me to deliver it to you this morning. Secretly, if possible, so that you would be surprised.”

Falman sat back in his chair, watching with curiosity. “How did you figure it out, sir?”

Roy shrugged, working a finger under the sealed flap of the envelope and beginning to tug it loose. “Well, if it was coming from here in Central as a personal gift, then it’s a safe bet that it’s either Elicia or my aunt. And since this envelope smells like crayons instead of perfume….”

He pulled out the hand-drawn picture, messy crayon scrawl depicting a stick figure with dark hair, one with blonde in an approximation of Riza’s style, both of them holding the line-hands of a third, smaller figure with pigtails. In large letters across the top was written “HAPY BIRTDA UNCA.”

He grinned, holding up for the others to see. “And correct me if I’m wrong, but this doesn’t really look like my aunt’s work.”