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aquietwritingcorner · 3 years ago

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Embers of Revelation

Author: RealityBreakGirl/aquietlearningcorner Word Count: 12296 Rating: T Prompt: FMA Big Bang 2021 Warnings: Child abuse/neglect Characters: Riza Hawkeye, Roy Mustang, Jean Havoc, Heymans Breda, Vato Falman, Kain Fuery, Black Hayate Pairing: Royai Genre: Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Family Chapter: 2 of 7 Summary: Tasked by Fuhrer Grumman to investigate a suspected alchemic incident, General Mustang’s team finds themselves stranded in Hawkeye’s hometown. Needing a place to stay, they find themselves taking shelter in her childhood home. However, her past can’t stay buried there, and as revelations come to light, they also bring embers of danger with them. Sequel to Embers in a Wounded Heart AO3 || ff.net

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Chapter 2

The night didn’t pass too peacefully for Havoc or Breda. Havoc’s legs were giving him quite a bit of trouble and he was restless most of the night. He tried to sleep or hold still, but after a while he gave up, and went downstairs where he could move as much as he needed too. Eventually he fell asleep on the couch. He thought, at one point, that he heard someone else up, but shortly after Hayate joined him, which explained a lot. Eventually the two fell asleep together.

The morning dawned early, but not too bright. He was woken up by the sounds of someone in the kitchen, and groggily drug himself up. He stumbled into the kitchen, wincing as his legs tried to work themselves out. They functioned just fine, but there was still an ache to them. Not to his surprise, both Hawkeye and Fuery were up and in the kitchen, coffee already going. They looked up at his entrance.

“Oh—did we wake you?” Hawkeye asked, looking at him.

Havoc yawned. “Yeah, but don’t worry about it.”

Fuery had gotten up and was busy fetching a cup for Havoc. “Didn’t sleep well, sir?” he asked.

“Yeah… this weather is messing with my legs,” he said. “Makes them ache more and more the longer it goes on.”

Hawkeye frowned. “Do you have anything you take or do for them?”

“Yeah,” Havoc said, “but I try not to take it too much. I don’t like being too compromised.”

“It’s not like we’re doing anything dangerous here,” Fuery said with a smile as he handed Havoc a cup of coffee fixed just the way he liked it. How did Fuery remember little details like that anyway? And why would he bother?

Still, it didn’t stop Havoc from accepting it.

“Yeah, but still. Don’t worry, if it gets to be too much, I’ll take one of those pills.”

Hawkeye was frowning. “Have you ever tried any herbal or folk remedies?” she asked him.

Havoc shook his head. “Nah, I haven’t. to be honest, even if my ma used them, I wouldn’t know where to start.”

Hawkeye nodded. “Let me see what I can find and put together. I might be able to give you something that’ll help.”

“You know herbs?” Fuery asked, sounding a little surprised.

Hawkeye nodded. “I learned when I was younger from books, and an older woman in town. They were useful things to know, especially when a doctor wasn’t always an option.” She stood up, heading over to the refrigerator. “I’ll see what I can look into. For now, though, we had better start on breakfast.”

With a nod, Havoc and Fuery both got up, and the three of them started working on the food.

It wasn’t too much later that the others started filing down the stairs, Falman first, then Breda, and finally, Mustang. Like all good military men, they started their approach with a trip to the coffee pot. Once the coffee was fixed, each of them sat at the table, where they slowly woke up and, eventually, started to help with breakfast. It didn’t take long until they were all sitting around the table with a full breakfast laid out in front of them and another pot of coffee ready.

“So,” Breda said as they ate, “What’s the plan for the day?”

Mustang looked out the window, where the rain could still be seen pouring. “Well, there’s not much we can do here about our mission,” he said. “Fuery, did you get the radio working?”

“Not to my satisfaction,” he said. “I mean, it works, yes, but not as good as it could.”

“Can you make it work as well as you want it to?” Mustang asked.

“Maybe, with the right tools and supplies,” he responded.

Mustang and Hawkeye looked at each other, silent communication passing between them again.

“We’ll see what we can find you,” Hawkeye said. “I’m sure there’s something laying around. If there’s nothing in the house, there might be something in the barn.”

“If you can get that repaired, then we’ll use that as our primary means of updates on the weather and the train station.” Mustang said.

“What about calling the station?” Breda asked.

Hawkeye shook her head. “There was never a phone installed here. Father saw no need, and we didn’t have the money for something like that. I didn’t see the need after he died, as I didn’t plan to stay here for long.”

Breda nodded, and Havoc supposed that made sense.

“Havoc, will you take care of the horses?” Mustang asked.

“Sure thing, Boss. Although if anyone else has experience, it might not be a bad thing to have someone else that knows what they’re doing as well.”

“I can help,” Falman said. “I did a few turns taking care of the horses at Briggs.”

“You any good?” Havoc asked.

“The horse master wanted to see about getting me transferred down there,” Falman said.

Havoc raised an eyebrow. “Alright, good enough for me.”

“Okay, so that’s settled. As for the rest of us…” Mustang shook his head. “Well just do as we need to. There’s plenty to read, and always work to do. We’ll figure it out. However,” he said, “when what needs to be taken care of this morning is taken care of, we can dive into the intel that we were given, see what we can learn.”

“We can go head and pool what knowledge we have and get something of a plan in place for when we do get there,” Hawkeye said. “It can’t hurt anyway.”

Breda grunted. “That’s true enough. And it’ll certainly be something more productive then just sitting around reading random books. No offence, Falman.”

“None take, sir.”

“What chores and the like need to be done?” Mustang asked.

Hawkeye considered for a moment. “Well, our uniforms need washing, and the boots demucking. That will take a while. Sir,” she turned to Mustang. “I need you to check for some things for me in the basement.”

He looked at her with a bit of concern in his eyes, obviously willing, but, again, the basement brought up something bad, just like the last time they had been here. Hawkeye obviously wasn’t willing to go down in it still. Havoc couldn’t help but wonder, once again, just what it might be.

“Of course, Captain,” he said. “Just let me know what it is you need.”

“Just to check for some dried herbs and ingredients for me. I’m going to work on something for Havoc’s legs, see if it helps.”

Understanding seemed to bloom in Mustang’s eyes, and he settled down. “Ah, I see.”

“You’re going to what now?” Breda asked.

Hawkeye smiled at him, “Just apply some good country remedies. Hopefully one of them will help. If it helps his legs, it might help your arm as well.”

They had all noticed, but had chosen not to comment on, the way that Breda seemed to be favoring one arm. It was the one with the elbow he had broken, and Havoc knew that it was giving him trouble as well.

Breda still looked a bit surprised. “If it works, I’ll give it a try,” he said. “You I trust. Him,” he pointed to Havoc with his fork, “not so much.”

“Gee, thanks,” Havoc deadpanned. “See who makes sure there’s enough coffee for you next time.”

“Alright, so, I’m going to look for herbs for the captain. And the rest of you?” Mustang said, interrupting the play argument before it could get started.

“I’ll go check on the horses,” Havoc said, “And Falman can come with me.” Falman nodded his agreement.

“I’ll be working on that radio,” Fuery said. “Although it would be good if someone could show me where theses spare parts might be.”

“I can show you here in the house,” Hawkeye said, and Fuery nodded.

“So that just leaves the dishes and the uniforms,” Havoc said, and shot a grin Breda’s way.

Breda pulled a face. “Oh no. I’m not doing all of that alone!”

Luckily for him, Hawkeye came to his rescue. “I’ll help you,” she said. “It’s my house, and besides, I’m sure that Fuery needs some time to decide what he needs.”

Fuery nodded. “Yes, sir, I do,” he said. “So, it’ll be a while yet.”

“I can help you in the meantime,” Hawkeye reassured him, and Breda seemed somewhat mollified.

Breakfast didn’t last much longer after that, and they all finished and then cleaned up their places. Breda and Hawkeye set about putting away any extra food and cleaning the dishes. Anyone, they all knew, could wash dishes, so after Riza gave him a rundown of where things went in the kitchen, she left him to it to start on the uniforms.

Havoc and Falman pulled on their muddy boots from the day before, and their coats, and headed out the backdoor towards the barn, not only with instructions to see to the horses, but to bring back anything useful from the barn or the shed. Havoc was still a little concerned about that shed and the chemicals in it, but he couldn’t deny that Hawkeye seemed to know what she was doing—not after she had somehow miraculously saved the pot that Havoc would have sworn up and down Mustang had ruined. He was highly suspicious that she wanted him to bring back in a number of those.

Well, if the house blew up, at least the rain would put out any fires.

Falman, it turned out, was very good with horses. Something about his demeanor seemed to sooth the animals, and they let him do almost anything. The two men both mucked out the stalls, laid fresh hay, and then fed them. After that, they poked around the barn to see if there was anything useful in it.

“Sir?” Falman said from one of the corners. “What about this cart?”

“Hm?” Havoc walked over to him. “Oh that. Hawkeye said last time that she used to take that to town with her when she knew that she’d need to pick up a lot of materials or supplies. She said that sometimes she tied her goat to it to pull, and sometimes she just pulled it herself.”

“She pulled it herself?” Falman said, sounding a bit incredulous. “All the way to town?”

“That’s what she said.” Havoc repeated.

Falman fell quiet, thinking for a moment. “Sir…” he said carefully. “About the captain. Some of the things she says about living here, or the ways that she acts—”

“I know exactly what you mean, but you need to drop it,” Havoc said sharply. “Even when we were here last time, I learned very little solid facts. I just had snippets and conjecture to go off of. If Hawkeye wants us to know, then she’ll tell us. Other than that, it’s best not to say anything.”

Falman nodded. “Understood, sir,” And, bless him, Havoc believed that he did. Falman was a good man. He understood when to back off and not to push.

They did manage to collect a few things that they thought would do Fuery some good and put them in the spare basket that Hawkeye had given them. After that they stopped by the shed, and Havoc got to watch the wonder and the fear of this shed creep into Falman’s eyes. After all, a lot of these chemicals could be dangerous if they broke down or were too old.

All Havoc could do was shrug and load some up into the basket. “Hawkeye seems to think they’re safe,” he said, and that seemed to be the end of that.

By the time that they got back inside, both Breda and Hawkeye had moved on from cleaning the kitchen. It was clean and ready to go. Remembering Mustang’s warning about a child Hawkeye hitting him with a mop when he tracked dirt in, they headed straight to the washroom to remove their boots and hang up their coats. Riza and Breda were in there, Breda working on cleaning up their boots, Riza working on the clothes.

“Hate to say, but we brought you some more work,” Havoc said as they walked in.

“Oh, good,” Breda said sarcastically. “Riza, not to question you, but our boots are just going to get muddy again. What’s the point of cleaning them?”

“It’ll get the worst of it off,” she said. “And it’ll keep them from getting so mucked up.” She looked at him. “You know the dangers of letting a boot get too wet.”

“Yeah, but that’s for marches, not taking the boots on and off,” he pointed out.

“Still. Better to keep them clean—and you know it, Lieutenant,” she said, although there was a bit of a tease in her voice.

“Yeah, yeah,” he said, pulling a slight face at the work.

“How were the horses?” Riza asked. “And did you find anything?”

“We found several things that Fuery might find useful,” Falman said “and we retrieved a few bottles of chemicals for you, Captain.”

Riza smiled at them. “Thank you.”

“The horses were fine,” Havoc said. “A little ancy because of the weather, but fine overall.” He shifted, his legs just constantly aching in this weather. “I can’t blame them much for that, to be honest.”

“Hopefully this rain will let up soon,” Hawkeye said. “And then we can all leave.”

“We were lucky that you had this house we could stay in, though,” Falman said.

“Yes, I suppose so,” she murmured.

“We’ll leave the chemicals on the kitchen table, yeah?” Havoc said, “And then take these parts to Fuery.”

“Alright,” Hawkeye said. “I’ll tend to them later.”

Havoc gave her a wave, and he and Falman exited the small room, leaving Hawkeye and Breda working. It didn’t take long to unload the chemicals on the table.

“What’s the captain going to do with these?” Falman asked as they put them on the table.

“I don’t know,” Havoc said, “but the last time we were here Mustang ruined a pot trying to cook something. I thought for sure that the pot was done for. But Hawkeye brought in some of the chemicals, did something to the pot for a few days, and then somehow, amazingly, she managed to clean off whatever it was that the general had done.”

Falman didn’t look terribly impressed, but Havoc pushed his point. “I’m not kidding, Falman. It was black and burned and there was smoke coming out of it. I don’t know what he managed to burn that bad. I don’t think I’ve ever seen a pot or anything burned quite that badly. Trust me, you don’t want to let him cook.”

“The general is an accomplished alchemist,” Falman said. “Surely he can do something like simple cooking.”

“You’d think he could,” Havoc said. “But trust me, he can’t.”

Falman seemed to take his words into consideration but didn’t comment more on them. Instead, they finished unloading the chemicals and took the pieces to Fuery, who had the big radio pulled out and the back of it off.

“How’s it looking?” Havoc asked.

“Not unfixable, but it’s not going to be easy, especially without some of the proper parts. But I think I can make do. General’s volunteered to make some of the parts I need, if he can.”

“Well, that’s handy,” Havoc said.

“Yeah, I’ve got him looking though one of the technical manuals I brought with me so that he’ll have an idea of what I’m talking about.”

“Oh, giving the General orders now,” Havoc teased.

Fuery looked up from his work and grinned. “Well, when he asks what he can do…”

Havoc laughed. “I get that. Alright, keep working—maybe we’ll get more than scratchy ballroom music at some point.”

“Here’s hoping, sir!”

There wasn’t too much more to do after that, except clean up a little more. Falman went off to read, and Havoc, needing something to do, decided that he might as well go ahead and start working on lunch for everyone. True, it hadn’t been terribly long since breakfast, but it did take a while to prep things for six people plus one dog. He moved some of Hawkeye’s chemicals from the counter back to the table—who had moved those? —and got to work preparing the vegetables for what he hoped was going to be a good meal.

The finishing of chores and the smell of cooking food eventually brought everyone out from their jobs. Hawkeye and Breda had finally finished the uniforms, which were now drying in the washroom, and Fuery took a break from the radio, with Hawkeye promising to show him around the house a bit more to see if there was anything else he could use. Mustang complained about the technical manuals, and Hawkeye teased him about not complaining about paperwork any longer. They all enjoyed lunch together, and, after it, Breda took care of cleaning up the washroom while Mustang went to look around the basement. Hawkeye showed Fuery the attic and Falman went outside to make some observations. Havoc took care of the kitchen. By the time the afternoon rolled around, everyone was either finished with their chores or ready to take a break. They all moved into the living room where there was more space and the warmth from the fireplace. Fuery still had his radio to tinker with as well, which kept the younger man quite happy.

“Alright, before we start, status update. Fuery, the radio,” Mustang said.

“I’m working on her sir. She’s an older model and I don’t have access to parts, but I think with your help and some of the things I’ve found around here I should be able to get her working well by this afternoon. Of course, she’d work better with an antenna, but we don’t have one and it would be dangerous to put one up in this weather.”

Mustang frowned but seemed to put a pin in that idea. “Keep working, Fuery. I’m sure you’ll get it.” He turned his attention to Falman. “Weather report, Falman?”

“Yes, sir,” Falman said. “I went out and made some observations. Without the proper tools I couldn’t be sure of several things, but there is a still a wind coming out of the west and the clouds appear to be low-hanging cumulus and still saturated with rain. It’s still as unusual as it was back in Central, sir, and it doesn’t show any signs of letting up. However, they do appear to be mostly rain clouds and not necessarily storm clouds, which does make a difference.”

“Right,” Mustang said. “Havoc? The horses.”

“They’re doing fine, sir,” Havoc drawled. “A little ancy, but that’s to be expected in weather like this. We’ve got enough supplies to keep them for a couple of more days, but then we’d probably want to see about taking them and the wagon back. When we do, I suggest we take that small cart with us, and we can load it up with anything we need and pull it back.”

Mustang nodded. “Hawkeye? The house?”

“Seems mostly as we left it,” she said.

“Mostly?” he interrupted.

“Yes,” she said. “I do hire someone to come in, check on things, and make sure there’s basic upkeep, so anything that seems a bit out of place is probably due to him.”

“I wondered why this place was in so good of shape, considering no on lived here,” Havoc said.

“Yes, well, I had thought about just abandoning it to its fate, but… well, it’s always good to have a backup,” she said.

“It worked out well for us, at least,” Breda said.

“But the house and all seem fine to you,” Mustang pushed.

“Yes,” she said. “Everything seems to be in order.”

“Good.” Mustang nodded at Breda, a bit of a smirk touching his lips. “And the state of the laundry?”

Havoc heard Breda mumble something under his breath, but he couldn’t catch what it was. “It’s fine, sir. Clean and drying out. Hopefully we won’t get that muddy again anytime soon.”

“Maybe,” was all Mustang said in response to that, and moved on. “Alright, you all have your files, correct?” Five heads nodded at him, and one tail wagged. “Good. Let’s go over what we know.” He flipped open his file.

“This is yet another society formed after the Promised Day. It’s very secretive and very hard to find. If it was just about being secret, we wouldn’t have had any problems with it. However, there have recently been attacks that have been traced back to what the local authorities are calling the Spark. Apparently, people in the area haven’t been overly happy with the government, and this group is trying to spark some sort of conflict or knowledge to life.”

He flipped the page. “There’s several photographs of areas that they’ve attacked or been spotted at,” he said, taking the photos out and passing them around. “Unfortunately, the perpetrators themselves are never caught at the area.”

“How do we know that these are all the same group?” Breda asked. “It could be several different groups of people that the local authorities are blaming on one group.”

“That’s true,” Mustang said. “However, there is other evidence that links to this group. Unfortunately, it’s circumstantial at best, supposition at worst.”

“If it’s that unclear, then how come we’re being sent on this mission?” Havoc asked.

“We’re being sent because it’s unclear,” Mustang said, “And because of our expertise in dealing with alchemists.”

“There’s alchemy involved?” Havoc asked.

Mustang nodded. “One of the signs that has been seen at every crime scene are signs of alchemy. It’s a very good, very specific kind of alchemy. It’s almost impossible to spot if you’re not directly looking for it and covers its tracks very well.”

He pulled more papers out of the folder and passed them around. “This is Herman Stitue. He was an alchemist that specialized in Alchemy that was difficult to see, mostly for the restoration of objects, buildings, and other places like that. Fifteen months ago, he disappeared, and all of his research was stolen. Seven months ago, his body was found. Six months ago, these alchemic incidents that were covered up started happening. It’s suspected that he was kidnapped along with his research and made to train this group.”

Hawkeye seemed to tense up a bit at that, and Havoc wondered why. Sure, part of it, he knew, probably had to do with the General’s flame alchemy. It was a very secretive, very specialized form of alchemy itself. But this seemed to be a bit more than that. Maybe she was worried about Mustang getting taken on this mission too?

“In fact, when the disappearances of other alchemists were looked into, similar circumstances began to emerge. Investigations has been tracking this one for a while, as it seems that it’s mostly been alchemists with very unique or secretive forms of alchemy that have disappeared. This is the first real lead that has been discovered, and the Fuhrer decided it was best to send us on this mission.”

No one seemed willing to address the elephant in the room, so Havoc, as usual, bit the bullet and did it himself.

“Begging your pardon, General, but doesn’t it seem a bit risky sending you in? After all, Flame Alchemy isn’t exactly well known, and you yourself have the hands-free alchemy going on now. Seems like you’d be a prime target.”

“I know,” Mustang said, and glanced at Hawkeye, who seemed to be sitting very straight, clearly not happy with this turn of events, but also clearly having foreknowledge of it. “But that’s part of the point. It’s hopeful that my presence will draw them out and that we’ll be able to find and apprehend them more directly.”

He closed the folder. “It’ll be dangerous, but if we can ever get there, it’ll be worth it.”

“Yeah, well, first we have to get there,” Breda said. He looked out the front window, which someone had opened the curtains to, for whatever reason. “But that’s not going to happen any time soon, it looks like.”

“Alright. Then the question becomes, what do we do in the meantime?” Mustang asked.

“Not get wet,” Breda suggested, and Havoc rolled his eyes.

“We have enough supplies to stay here for a few days,” Riza said. “We can stay longer if I go hunting.”

“If we go hunting,” Havoc said. “I’m pretty good too.”

Riza conceded that with a nod. “You know how to dress a kill too, don’t you?”

“Of course. You got a place to do it? It won’t be good to do it in the barn with the horses.”

“No, that won’t work. It’ll make them too skittish. I used to just do it in the backyard, but with all this mud that won’t work.”

“I’d say your shed, but there’s too many chemicals in there to make me comfortable.”

“Mm, true, and it’s not very big.”

“What about the chicken coop? If Mustang can fix it up like he did that gazebo.”

“That might work.”

“Alright then! What kinds of things can we hunt around here?”

“Well, I’ve let the land grow wild, so probably a decent verity. Squirrels, rabbits, things like that obviously, but there should be some deer too.”

“That sounds good. Hey—ever get any waterfowl on that pond?”

“Okay—” Mustang interrupted them. “So, Hawkeye and Havoc are going to go hunting. What else?”

“Well, sir, if someone else doesn’t mind getting a bit dirty, there’s always the orchard and whatever is growing out there, and the old garden plot. Could be some vegetables still growing wild.” Hawkeye said. “I don’t mind taking care of it all, but that is something that someone else can do.”

“I can do it,” Falman volunteered. “I’ve been reading over some of the herbology books as well and I think that I might be able to identify other useful plants. I’ll be out anyway making my observations on the weather, so if I do it, no one else has to worry about being out in the rain.”

Mustang nodded. “Good.”

“I’ll keep working on the radio,” Fuery said. “And, when I’m finished, if there’s anything else that needs repairs or fixing, I can always take a look at that. Otherwise, just point me where I’m needed, sir.”

Mustang nodded. “We’ll probably take you up on that, Fuery.”

“I’ll help out with whatever needs to be helped out with around here,” Breda said, “but I’m also going to be working on these files. I want to be as prepared as possible for it, when we actually go.”

“Good,” Mustang said. “I’ll work on it too. We can discuss it. But I’ll also be on standby for any help that might be needed. If we can make it easier with my alchemy, then I’m more than happy to help.”

Hayate stood up and barked from where he was next to Hawkeye, his tail wagging.

“Ah, yes, good, Second Lieutenant Hayate,” Mustang said. “You’ll take guard duty. Excellent.”

“At least the pooch is being useful,” Breda muttered. He had a truce with the dog, but it was obvious to anyone that he was still not overly comfortable with him.

“For downtime, you’re welcome to make use of the library,” Hawkeye offered. “Or explore the grounds, if you want. Just please stay out of the study and unoccupied bedroom on the second floor, and the basement.”

That was at least twice she had mentioned for them to stay away from the basement and Havoc couldn’t help but wonder why. There hadn’t been anything special about it that he had seen when he was down there, except that it looked more like a lab then a basement, including a large table with a bright light over it. Maybe it was some alchemy thing, like telling them to stay out of her father’s study. He didn’t know, but Havoc had to admit that he was curious.

The rest of the day went fairly peacefully. Havoc and Hawkeye talked hunting strategies, and the best places to find things. Fuery worked on the radio, getting Mustang to help him make some parts. Dinner time rolled around, and they paused to eat, and then with some unspoken agreement, sat down their work after that and retired to the living room.

Havoc was glad to see that someone had closed the living room curtains, although he hadn’t recalled anyone doing it, cutting off the sight of the pouring rain and adding a layer between the window and ever-present chill the rain seemed to bring.

Fuery kept working on the radio, almost finished with it, and Havoc laid in the floor, stretching out his legs. Falman was in a chair, absorbed in a book, and Mustang and Hawkeye were on the couch, seemingly reading the same book, although Havoc was sure it was just an excuse to be close. Although, looking at them sitting there, a blanket pulled over their laps as they looked at a book, Havoc couldn’t help but wonder if he was looking at a picture of a younger Roy and Riza, sitting on the couch, reading, as children.

“Hey,” Breda had gotten up and come over to him. “Com’on.”

Havoc knew what Breda was talking about, and he laid on his back, lifting his legs up in the air. Breda pressed down on them, and they ran through some of the exercises that Havoc had gone through in Physical Therapy. While he no longer actually needed the exercises for his legs, as he had built up all of his former strength, it was still good to go through them. They felt good to his legs and sometimes they helped him sleep better as well. Breda knew the exercises well, as he had been with Havoc for a lot of his recovery, egging and pushing him on.

They were partway through this, when Fuery suddenly let out a satisfied noise, and all attention turned towards him.

“I think she’s fixed!” he said, and went to the front, fiddling with the nobs. He turned her on, and they all waited to see what the radio would bring. To everyone’s happy surprise, and Fuery’s eternal satisfaction, the radio seemed to find a station in all of the rain and began to play it.

“—was ‘The Xingese Sandman’ sung by Anette Hanshaw. And now we bring you an hour of your favorite instrumentals to dance along to. Find your girl, fellas, and hold her tight as you dance the night away with these favorites!”

“Hey, good job, Fuery!” Havoc said.

“See if you can find some news on somewhere,” Mustang instructed. “Or some sort of weather update.”

“Yes, sir,” Fuery said, turning the dial.

He switched through various channels, trying to find something, and Havoc couldn’t help but notice the way that Hawkeye and Mustang would give each other looks when they landed on the music stations. These two were just getting worse and worse at hiding this, weren’t they?

Ah well. It wasn’t like anyone here was going to rat them out. And maybe, just maybe, Grumman could do something about it. Havoc had seen the way he eyed the two of them. He wanted them to get together just as much as anyone else did.

Finally, Fuery landed on a station, and they listened as the news played out. There were, apparently, torrential rains over most of the country. Up north it had turned to freezing rain, and there were reports that even Drachma was having to shut down several things on account of it. There was widespread flooding, and stranded passengers from washed out tracks and roads. The military was as mobilized as it could be, but with the problems in transportation, there was only so much that could be done. Most places were simply working with what they had.

Mustang looked a bit grim as the news went off. “That doesn’t sound too good,” he said.

“It sounds like we’re going to be stuck here a while,” Breda said. “Means our chance might slip away.”

“Or they might be as bogged down as we are.” Mautang looked over at Havoc and Falman. “When were you planning on taking the horses and the cart back?” he asked.

“In about two more days,” Havoc said. “Why?”

“Well, I left word for Grumman about where we were and what happened, but it would probably be a good idea to check in. I might go with you,” he said.

“It’s too bad we don’t have a phone here,” Havoc said. “Then you wouldn’t have to leave.”

“Um, well, if someone in town is selling one, I could hook it up,” Fuery said. Eyes immediately swiveled to him. “It wouldn’t be too hard. I’d just need the phone itself and some cable. There’s already electricity in place, so there’s poles to run the phone wires on. And I think there was a place we passed that had a phone line, so it would really only be running it from there. It’s nothing I’ve not done before.”

Mustang frowned. “But in this weather?” he asked.

“Well, it’s not thundering and lightening, so it’s just the rain and wind I’d have to watch out for, which isn’t as dangerous.” Fuery said.

Mustang looked at Hawkeye, who nodded.

“Alright,” he said. “When we go into town, you come too and see if you can find what you need.”

“Can do, sir!” he said.

Havoc, meanwhile, had gone back to his stretches, grimacing a bit, and Hawkeye had taken note.

“Are your legs still hurting you?” she asked him.

“Yeah,” he said. “I’ll probably be up again tonight.”

She looked at Breda. “And your elbow.”

“Yeah,” he said, removing his hand from it as she spoke, like a little kid caught by a parent.

She frowned. “Sir,” she said, turning to look at Mustang. “Did you get those herbs I asked for?”

“I did,” he said. “They’re in the dining room.”

“Good,” she said, and got up, leaving the men behind. She came back a few minutes later with a pestle and mortar, and several different kinds of herbs and flowers and dried things that Havoc would have probably chalked up as “weeds.”

Falman was looking at it, intrigued. “What are you doing, Captain?” he asked.

“Well,” she said. “It’s a poultice I used to make as a girl, when my own limbs would ache. It’s not perfect and it’s not as strong as a lot of medicines, but it does well in that gap between “nothing” and “medicine that leaves me compromised.” Her hands were deftly working, almost as if they were moving on their own accord. She clearly knew what she was doing.

Havoc watched her and he and Breda continued to exercise and Fuery put the back on the radio again. Falman had moved next to her, and she was explaining what she was doing in very detailed language that Havoc honestly didn’t understand or could hope to understand. All he knew was that she was grinding things up in that little bowl and then adding things to it, making a poultice that would, hopefully, help him.

“Where’d you learn to do all of these things, Captain?” Fuery asked, and Havoc could see Mustang tense at the question.

“Oh, here and there,” she said. “From books, and from a few of the older ladies in town,” She paused, did something, and then went back to work. “Doctor’s visits were expensive, especially for minor things that could heal on their own, so I learned to take care of as much as I could myself. I’m hoping that this will help. As I said, I used it myself when my own limbs would ache.”

“Growing pains?” Fuery asked, but he sounded fairly confident in his answer.

“No,” Riza said, surprising them all. “I would typically use them after a hard day of cleaning, or cutting wood when I was a little bit older, or any other manner of physical stress, but it was also effective after father’s discipline.”

She said it like it was nothing, but Havoc couldn’t help but notice the tightening of Mustang’s lips, or the way the other men seemed to pause.

“…you mean like after that thrashing you said your dad gave you when you broke that dish?” Havoc asked, wondering if he could get a little more information.

Hawkeye let out a snort. “I wish I had this then. But I was five. I didn’t know about it yet. Besides, I understand why he was so upset.”

That didn’t make Havoc any more comfortable, but it was clear from Mustang’s look that Havoc—and the rest of them—weren’t to pursue. Instead, he changed the subject. “That’s the same stuff you gave me after that fight with Henry Thompson, isn’t it?”

“It is,” she confirmed. “And it helped, didn’t it?”

“It did,” he said. “It really did. I definitely was hurting then.”

“I’d say that it should have taught you not to pick a fight with someone bigger than you, or a larger group, but it didn’t do any good for that.”

“Hey—I couldn’t let them just push you around like that!”

“I’d have been fine. They pushed me around before and I always came out of it okay.”

“It wasn’t right.”

“Neither was you getting your face bashed in. You’re just lucky I got help and found that slingshot.”

Mustang laughed. “You took us all by surprise with those marbles and that slingshot.”

She looked up at him, amusement on her face. “Well, someone had to do something effective,” she teased. “You certainly weren’t.”

Before he could say anything more, Hawkeye got up, taking the bowl with her. “I need to add some water to this. I’ll be back in a minute.”

She got up and left and the men watched her leave the room before eyes slid back towards Mustang.

“It’s the captain’s private life, and I’ll let her decide what to tell you and what not to,” he said.

The men exchanged looks but didn’t say anything else.

Soon after Hawkeye walked back into the room with the bowl, it being full of something that smelled good and seemed, well, goopy.

“Here,” she said, handing it to Havoc. “Try this tonight after your shower. It should help, I hope. I’ve never tried it on something like this, specifically, but it’s worked on other aches and pains before. It’s worth a shot.” She looked at Breda. “I made enough for you to have some too, Breda,” she said. “It should work on your elbow as well.”

“Thanks,” he said, looking a little surprised. “I’ll try it out.”

“If it doesn’t work, let me know. I might can find something different. It just might take a little trial and error.”

Havoc was sniffing at it. “Huh. Maybe you should have become the local witch woman instead, Riza,” he teased.

“You hush,” she said. “There’s nothing magical about it. It’s just a knowledge of herbs and other plants.”

He just grinned at her.

It wasn’t long after that they all began retiring to bed. The showers had to be taken in stages, although Mustang was good at reheating the water for them. Havoc opted to go last, and so stayed downstairs for a bit longer, leafing through a book he had found. Hayate was down there with him, seemingly taking his guard duties seriously, padding in front of the doors and sniffing around, although he seemed to like sniffing around that basement door the most. It was almost enough to make Havoc want to open it and go back down there.

“Yo, Hav, your turn!”

Breda’s voice traveled back down the stairs, and Havoc turned from his musings. “Yeah, coming,” he said. He left his wanderings downstairs with his book and headed up the stairs to take his shower. It didn’t take him long to shower, and soon he was in the room with the stuff that Hawkeye had made for him. He looked at it, until Breda griped at him.

“Just try it already,” he said. “I’ve already put some on my elbow and it seems to help. It’s worth a shot.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Havoc replied. He scooped a bit out of the bowl it was in and started rubbing it on his legs and lower back. It soaked in like a lotion or oil would and he found it did start to help after a few minutes. “Wow,” he said blinking at the poultice. “Alright.”

“Yeah,” Breda said. “Whodathunk that Hawkeye would be a freaking herb lady.”

“Yeah,” Havoc said, and frowned a bit.

“Hey,” Breda waited until Havoc was looking at him. “What did you mean by that question you asked Hawkeye earlier? About a thrashing.”

Havoc frowned. “When we were here last time, I asked her about a broken dish. She said that she had tried to look at it as a child and broke it, and that her father gave her, her ‘first thrashing’.”

Breda frowned. “First thrashing?” he said.

“That’s what she said,” Havoc said. “She never really explained it more than that, and I didn’t think it best to push. Besides…” he frowned more. “She didn’t seem to think that it was a big deal, either, which… I’ll be honest, concerned me.”

Breda frowned, clearly starting to piece some things together. “Hav… what was she like the last time you were here?”

Havoc was silent for a moment. “…not good. She wasn’t doing well here. This place seemed to hold a lot of bad memories for her,” he said honestly.

“Anything in particular?” Breda asked.

Havoc’s brow furrowed. “Only one particular thing stood out to me. She wouldn’t go in the basement.”

Breda’s frown deepened. “She didn’t want to go down to it earlier, either,” Breda said. “Asked Mustang to go down there for her.”

“Yeah,” Havoc said. “When we were searching, she refused to go down into the basement. Mustang and I went down there, but she didn’t.”

He wasn’t going to mention how she had turned pale at it and then disappeared, having a breakdown on the roof of the house. It seemed like a private moment, and not something that she would want to spread to her men. She trusted them a lot, but Hawkeye had her pride.

Breda grunted, thinking, and then sighed. “Well. It’s not our business, unless it becomes our business. We might as well see if we can get any sleep tonight.”

“Yeah,” Havoc said, pulling back the blankets. “Night, Breda.”

Breda grunted, and nothing more was said.

Havoc slept better that night, although he still woke early with his legs still hurting him. The longer the rain went on, the worse it seemed to get. Still, he pushed on. Morning went as mornings did, with him, Hawkeye, and Fuery the first ones up. They worked on breakfast, and everyone stumbled down the stairs and to the coffeepot before they all settled in for breakfast. Riza worked on the kitchen while Havoc and Falman went out and tended to the horses. Then, rain gear on, Havoc and Riza went out to get the lay of the land. Getting lucky they managed to kill a few things for their hunt, and set a few traps, but they mostly found good places where they could probably bag a few deer.

They spent at least half the day out there, looking over places and tracks. There were a few human tracks that Havoc spotted, but Hawkeye reassured him that she allowed hunting on her land, since it was one of the few areas where the woods were allowed to grow wild. It was probably another hunter thinking about the fact that there wasn’t going to be much food coming via the trains or the roads anytime soon. Havoc couldn’t blame them for that.

They returned to the house muddy, but with a plan for the next day, and stripped out of their muddy clothes in the washroom before heading up for showers. Havoc let Hawkeye go first, taking care of their boots while she was showering, and then taking his turn.

Not long after that was lunch, and then they all started going over the information that Breda and Mustang had laid out. They put together a few more theories and ideas on what could be going on, but there was truthfully not much more they could do.

The next couple of days were much of the same. Hawkeye and Havoc got up early the next day, went hunting, and came back with a couple of dear which they spent the rest of the day preparing. Falman found and harvested some food from the orchard trees and from the remains of the old vegetable garden while making his observations. Fuery worked on things around the house, improving them or just outright fixing them. Mustang and Breda helped out where they could—except no one allowed Mustang in the kitchen after another near disaster that was only averted because of Breda’s quick thinking.

Although the days passed with a slow pace, all of them felt the urgency that was needed for their travel to continue. Finally, the horses were out of hay, and it was decided that the next day they would need to go back into town. Havoc was set to drive the wagon, as he was the most experienced out of them all, and the roads were still nothing but muck. Unfortunately, when Havoc woke up that morning, he was in a great deal of pain. His legs were aching more than normal and he winced as he sat up, relying more on his arms then anything else.

“Hey—Hav, you alright?” Breda asked him. The movement must have woken him.

“…. There’s… a lot of pain this morning,” Havoc said as he attempted to stand with some stability.

Thunder crashed overhead, and Breda looked up. “I wonder if that’s why,” he said. Concern creased his forehead “Hey—you lay back down, alright? You look like you could use it.”

Havoc wasn’t one to typically give in, but today the pain was pretty severe, and he laid back down in the bed with a grimace. “Yeah,” he said a bit breathlessly. “Yeah, I think I will.”

“Guess you won’t be making it to town today, huh?” Breda said.

“Nah, I’m afraid not. Probably best for me to take one of those pain pills and just not do much today. Sorry.”

Breda shook his head. “You can’t help it. I’ll let the others know.”

“Yeah… I’ll try to make it down in a bit.”

“Okay.”

Breda dressed then, and left, heading down the stairs. Havoc could hear the movement and the voices of the others as they woke and moved around, getting their day started. He grimaced. He felt useless, but there really wasn’t much that he could do about it. When he was in this much pain, there wasn’t much he could do at all, except sleep it off.

He let himself doze, at least until he heard some footsteps, and a knock at the door.

“Yeah?” he said, automatically starting to push up, and then aborting that when pain flared through his lower back.

Hawkeye appeared at the door, a tray for eating in bed in her hands. Havoc suddenly remembered that she had cared for her father near the end of his life, and he wondered if maybe she had used trays like that when he needed to eat.

“Heard that you’re feeling pretty bad today.” Thunder rumbled again, and she grimaced. “Think it’s the change in the weather?”

Havoc shrugged, and pulled himself to more of a sitting position, bracing himself through the pain. “Not sure. I wouldn’t be surprised, but all I know is that I’m in a lot of pain today.”

“Well, hopefully you can eat a little,” she said. “I brought you some breakfast.”

“You’re the best, Ri,” he said, shooting her a grin. He waited until she approached and noted the way that she settled the tray on his lap like a pro, and then set about making sure that things were in easy reach for him, almost without even thinking about it. “So, what’s the plan for the day?”

“The others are still going to go to town. Falman thinks he can drive the wagon, and if not, then between the four of them, they should be able to figure it out,” she said. “The General wants to call Headquarters and check in, Fuery wants to see about getting a phone set up, Falman thinks he’ll be able to take care of the wagon and the horses, and Breda has to ‘get out of this house’ or he’s ‘going to go stir crazy’,” she said with a grin.

Havoc laughed, but then gave her a sympathetic look. “Hey, Riza, if you want to go—” He felt a little bad about making her stay behind, and so he couldn’t help but make the offer.

But she shook her head. “No, I’m going to stay right here,” she said. “I had enough of the rain and muck when we were hunting. Besides—It’ll be easier to get some of the cleaning down without you men tromping around everywhere,” she teased.

“Oh, I see,” he said. “You just want some peace and quiet to yourself.” He teased her right back.

She laughed. “Maybe so. But even with that, if you need anything, just call.”

He shook his head. “Honestly? I’m going to take one of those strong pills and probably try to sleep this off. Although if someone could snag me a book or two that would be great.”

“I’ll see what I can do,” Riza said with a smile. “I’ll be back in a bit to get that. You just rest up.”

“Yeah, sure,” he said. “Thanks, Riza.”

She just smiled at him, and then left the room.

Havoc started eating, listening to the sounds going on down below him. He wished he was down there with them, but his legs ached like mad when he moved them, much less tried to get up. Riza came back for the tray, and Breda came back up later to finish dressing. He brought Havoc a stack of books and promised to look for something more his speed in town. Havoc pulled a face at him, but thanked him nonetheless, and got Breda to help him up and to the bathroom once before he left. Once he was settled back in bed, he took one of those little pills, and then listened as he heard the others leave. The pill did it’s work and, as he fell asleep, the last things he heard were the sounds of Hawkeye turning on the radio and getting to work downstairs.

The pills always sacked him out hard for a few hours, so Havoc wasn’t sure how much time had passed before he heard the noise of the others coming back in. They were being noisy, and something about it had Havoc trying to shake himself out of his drug-induced fog. He blinked, trying to focus and wake up. They seemed to be… calling for someone?... Riza? They were calling for Hawkeye? That didn’t make sense. He heard footsteps coming up the stairs, and then making their way around the rooms. That was confusing as well, and he tried to make sense of it, at least until Breda opened the door.

“Hey—you seen Hawkeye?” he asked.

Havoc shook his head. “Naw. I was asleep until just now.”

“Hm,” Breda said.

Havoc was waking up more now. “Why?” he asked.

“She’s not down there. Could she be out hunting or something?” Breda asked.

Havoc forced the sleep away as best he could, and sat up fully, ignoring the pain he felt. “She shouldn’t be,” he said. “Mornings or evening are best, and we’ve got plenty. I don’t even think she’d be checking the traps right now.”

Breda’s frown increased. “Alright. I’m going back downstairs. Something’s not right here.”

“Wait—” Havoc said. He pushed the blankets back and swung his legs out of bed, wincing. “I’m coming too.”

“You sure?” Breda asked, looking a bit concerned.

“Yeah—the pain’s not as bad right now, not with the medicine on board.” Havoc said.

“Alright,” Breda said, but he waited on Havoc to get up and pull on some pants before they both made their way down the stairs together.

Downstairs was not in good shape. Mustang looked grim and didn’t waste any words.

“Her boots and coat are still here,” he said, “and she’s not in any of the outbuildings. There’s no signs of foul play, but that doesn’t mean that there wasn’t any.”

“She’s not upstairs,” Breda said. “I checked all the rooms.”

A dusty Fuery came out from the kitchen. “She’s not in the attic either,” he said. “And no signs of any windows being opened.”

“Hey—where’s Hayate?” Havoc asked, suddenly realizing that the little dog was missing too.

“Maybe outside?” Fuery asked.

“If you’re asking about Hawkeye, she’s not there either,” Falman said, coming in the front door, dripping wet, his back to them as he closed it.

“What about Hayate?” Mustang asked.

Falman turned around. Nestled in his arms was a hopefully asleep Hayate, soaking wet and muddy.

“I found him outside, locked in the chicken coop,” he said. “He seemed to have been drugged.”

“Drugged?” Mustang said. The ramifications of that hit all of them. Hawkeye certainly wasn’t drugging Hayate and putting him outside. That meant that someone else had to have. That also meant that someone could have taken Hawkeye.

But there were no signs of foul play, and she most certainly would have put up a fight.

“…There is one place it doesn’t sound like you’ve checked,” Havoc said, and looked over towards the door that led to the basement.

Mustang paled immediately and turned on his heel to head straight for it. The others followed suit, Falman carefully hurrying to put Hayate down in front of the fireplace before joining them.

Mustang was already at the door, reaching to unlock it. The fact that was locked from the outside might have normally been reassuring, as it would have been impossible for the lock to be locked from the outside if someone was inside but considering that it was clear someone had been in the house, it wasn’t a reassurance anymore.

Mustang threw open the lock and pulled on the door, but the door didn’t budge. He tried again, but it didn’t move. He cursed, throwing the lock back into place, and then clapping and laying his hands on the door. A circle of it fell out, part of the door and part of the door frame, large enough to house the entire locking mechanism. Mustang didn’t even look at it. Instead, he threw the door open and raced down the stairs. The rest of them weren’t far behind him.

The basement was much as they had left it, with the same items around it. The only difference Havoc could see now was that the light over the table was on, and Mustang was trying to talk to Hawkeye, who was crouched in a corner.

No. Wait. She wasn’t crouched. She was curled into it, eyes blown wide, clearly terrified. Havoc glanced at Breda. Neither of them knew what was going on.

“Riza?” Mustang called out to her. “Riza?” he reached for her, and she flinched back.

“N-no!” she said, and there was thick fear coating her voice. “No, no, please! Not again! Not yet!”

“Riza—Riza please, it’s me, it’s Roy.”

“No, no, please, no, don’t, not again, not yet—”

She was pleading with him, begging for something—for something to stop, to not happen again, or to be delayed, and Havoc felt his stomach turn.

“Riza…” Mustang reached a hand towards her, and she closed her eyes and turned away from it, huddling into the wall as much as she could, letting out a sob. Her hands immediately came up to her mouth as if she had said or done something wrong, and she trembled.

“Riza, please! It’s Roy! Come on—” Mustang sounded desperate, and he reached out and touched her. She startled, terror flooding her eyes and suddenly she was moving, scrambling back, finding another place to hide under a desk that was down there. Sobs poured out from under it.

“No, no, Father, please no!” She was out right crying. “It hurts—please Father not again! Let me heal first! Please!”

“Roy—what’s going on here?” Breda asked, moving a step forward. “What’s she talking about?”

“Later,” he said. He glanced back at them. “I’m not putting you off—but we need to get her out of here first.” He turned to look fully at them. “Please.”

It wasn’t the commands of a superior officer. It wasn’t even the words of a leader. It was, instead, the plea of a friend.

“She doesn’t look like she wants to come out of there,” Falman said.

Mustang’s face was distressed. “I know—we’ve got to get her out there. Breda.”

“Yeah.” Breda’s voice was serious, and he moved next to Mustang. With a look at each other, they reached down and grabbed her arms, pulling her out.

Riza screamed as they did, thrashing in their grip. “NO! No Father, please no!” She twisted in their grip, and Havoc couldn’t help but notice that her gaze was fixated on the table that was down there. “Please, please, please, the drink doesn’t work anymore, it hurts, please don’t, don’t use the ropes again, please father no, don’t please!”

She was clearly caught in the full-on throws of a flashback, with no idea what was going on around her anymore. She was in a panic, not seeing anything around her, not fighting so much as reacting, and begging through tears for her father not to do something to her—all of which was… disturbing wasn’t even a strong enough word in Havoc’s opinion. It made him feel sick.

“The stairs,” Mustang said over her cries, and he and Breda hauled her over to them and up, Hawkeye still begging and pleading the whole time.

Fuery followed after them, and after a moment, Falman did too. Havoc brought up the rear, but he couldn’t help but look back at that table. The last time he was down here he had assumed that it was just a table, maybe for doing experiments on. But Hawkeye’s words, her begging, the talking of ropes, and those odd-looking metal loops in the table brought new possibilities to mind. Images of a young Hawkeye being strapped down to that table, tied down on it by her father while he… what? What did he do to her? His mind rebelled against imaginong any further, although dark thoughts of what it could be circled in his head, unacknowledged.

Whatever her father did, though, was traumatizing, and Havoc could feel dread living in his stomach from this. It was clear that Hawkeye had been through something awful at the hands of her father, and that it was more than a one-time event. With a last look at the table, he climbed the stairs, hoping that the situation would be improved when he got up there.

The situation was little improved. Hawkeye was still clearly upset, her cries still going on. She had been taken to the couch, where someone had put a blanket around her. She huddled in it like she was hiding, keeping it pulled closely around her, her back pressed into the couch. Mustang was kneeling in front of her, talking to her. Getting her out of the basement seemed to have done something, though, because she didn’t seem to think that anyone in the room was her father anymore.

Instead, she was upset about Mustang.

“R-Roy?” she said, and he reached out, gently putting his hands on her face.

“Yes, Riza, I’m here. I’m here, Riza.”

She was trembling, and her face crumpled, tears falling. “Roy…”

He smiled at her. “Yes—Yes, I’m here, Riza.”

“You—you came back.”

Havoc watched as understanding and disappointment flickered across Mustang’s face as her words made it clear to all of them that she wasn’t back with them yet, but that she was still caught in the past.

“Yeah. I came back,” he said, apparently deciding that it would be better to play along with this for the moment.

She closed her eyes and let out a sob, leaning into his hand. Suddenly, her eyes flew open, and her hands darted up to grab his wrists. “You—you have to leave! You have to leave! Father doesn’t approve of the military! He’ll kill you! He’ll—” She sounded so certain, so desperate, and Havoc exchanged looks with Breda.

Mustang shook his head. “No. No, I’m not leaving you.” His voice was firm, but there was something that Havoc thought sounded like regret in it.

“But father—” she started.

“He can’t hurt you anymore,” Mustang said.

Her gaze crumped again. “He’ll never stop looking for me, Roy—you don’t understand! He won’t give up! Not after what he’s done to me!”

“No!” Mustang snapped out the word with fierceness. “No, I promise you, Riza! He can never hurt you again! Never! I’ve made sure of it, and I’ll protect you! I swear it!” He moved quickly, wrapping her up in a fierce hug, holding her tightly as they sat there on the couch.

“…y…you promise?” she said, her voice trembling.

“I promise,” he said. “I swear it, Riza Hawkeye.”

She seemed to fall apart on him there, but they were tears of relief, and she clung to him, sobbing, thanking him, all the while he apologized for not coming sooner.

It was, to an extent, play acting, but Havoc could see clear regret in Mustang’s eyes—he regretted not stopping whatever had happened to Hawkeye sooner, not coming here sooner to save her from whatever it was that her father had done to her. Whatever this was, it went deeper than he had imagined.

The team still hovered, none of them sure of what, exactly, to do, and yet none of them wanting to leave Hawkeye’s side. Hawkeye’s tears eventually calmed, although it was because she fell asleep on Mustang, having cried herself to sleep under his reassurances that he wasn’t going to leave her.

Fuery was the first to speak. “…is she going to be alright?” he asked softly.

The room seemed to hold its breath.

“I don’t know,” Mustang finally said, which was not an answer any of them wanted to hear. “But I’m not leaving her. I promised her I wouldn’t.”

That much was pretty clear, Havoc thought, and to be honest, no one looked like they wanted to try moving him from the couch anyway—not when they could still see Hawkeye’s tear stained face and the way that she clung to him even in her sleep. Not when they could hear the echoes of her screams and sobs.

“What happened to her?” Falman asked and looked as if he immediately regretted saying it out loud, even if it was what they all were thinking.

Mustang just looked down at the woman in his arms, and gently stroked her hair. “Something traumatic,” he said. “Something horrifying. But… it’s not mine to tell. I won’t tell it. It’s up to her if she wants to entrust you with it or not. It’s not my decision to make.”

There really wasn’t any arguing with that, and the room fell silent. After a few moments, Fuery got up, and went to the kitchen. Havoc could hear him turning on water and starting to move pots around, clearly starting on supper, even though it didn’t look as if any of them were particularly hungry. Breda got up not long afterwards, and Falman as well. Havoc sat for a few minutes longer, and then he, too, got up and started to wander towards the kitchen. His legs were aching again, but he could at least sit and help cut up vegetables.

He walked solemnly out of the room, intent on heading straight for the kitchen. He paused, though, when he saw Falman and Breda looking at the lock that came from the basement door. It was still sitting where it fell when Mustang has used his alchemy to remove it.

“It doesn’t make sense,” Falman was saying. “I didn’t think it did then either, but I wasn’t as worried about it at that moment as I was about whatever had happened to Hawkeye.”

“No, you’re right,” Breda said, picking it up and looking at it. “It’s locked from both the inside and the outside. The outside makes sense, if someone wanted to keep her in there. But the inside? From the way she was acting, I doubt Hawkeye locked herself in there.”

“So then, how did the inside get locked?”

“That’s the hundred-million-cen question,” Breda said. “The only thing I can think of, is that there’s another way in and out of there.”

“If there is,” Havoc tossed in. “It either wasn’t there when Boss, Hawkeye and I came last time, or it’s extremely well hidden.” He shook his head. “I never saw any sign of a door or other opening down there. And you know Mustang would have mentioned it by now if he knew of one being down there.”

“Yeah,” Breda said, rubbing his chin. “Hey—how old do you think this house is?”

Falman and Havoc both looked around. “I’d guess over a hundred years old,” Havoc said.

“I’d say somewhere around one-hundred fifty, with renovations happening every so often.” Falman said. “Looking at the general style, the heights of door frames, and the way the foundation looks around the outside of the house, that is.”

“Yeah, okay, so, it’s old,” Breda said. “So, here’s a question: Why doesn’t the basement have an outside entrance? Just about every old house I’ve been in has an outside entrance to the basement for anything from coal to potatoes, to just a quick way to get in and out. So, where’s the one that belongs to this house?”

“There… isn’t one,” Havoc said, puzzled.

“Maybe,” Breda said. “Or maybe, there isn’t one now. If there is one and it’s somewhere, or if the remnants of it exist somewhere, then that might be how someone got in, locked the door from both sides, and still got out.”

“We’re going to need to find that, then, and see if we can prove it,” Havoc said.

“I’ll start looking around outside tomorrow,” Falman said.

“I’ll poke around too, if I can,” Havoc said. “I owe it to Hawkeye, at least.”

He felt a little guilty for the whole thing. How long had she been down there while he was sleeping in his bed, passed out from a drug? Had she called out for help? Had she screamed for him? Had whoever this was done something to her? He didn’t know. He didn’t know, because he had been sleeping instead of being up and facing the day like he was supposed to.

Pain be hung, he wasn’t going to let that interfere with his ability to be around or help his friends anymore. If he had to put up with pain so that they didn’t, then he would. He honestly never wanted to see Hawkeye in that position again, not if he could help it.

Breda seemed to sense what he was thinking and clasped his hands on Havoc’s shoulders. “Hey,” he said. “This wasn’t your fault, okay? You didn’t know and you couldn’t know. And taking that pill because your legs were in pain is not a bad thing. This was unpredicted. Don’t blame yourself.”

“Yeah, well…” he sighed. “I’m going to go help Fuery with supper.”

Breda let him go, obviously reading that, at the moment, there wasn’t a good way to convince Havoc to let go of the guilt. Logically, Havoc knew it wasn’t his fault. But knowing that didn’t make him feel less guilty, especially when he thought about Riza’s pleadings, screams and tears.

“Hey, Fuery, need a hand?” he asked as he walked into the kitchen.

“Hm? Oh, yeah… sure. Just... cut up these vegetables for me, will you? I’m going to make a soup for tonight. I think we could all use something a little warm and comforting.” Fuery said.

He wasn’t wrong, and Havoc knew it, but he also knew that he didn’t currently feel like eating. He pulled out a chair and sat down at the table, getting to work cutting the piles of vegetables that he had laid out. It was good mindless work for his hands as his brain thought and rolled over the knowledge that he had.

He knew that this place held bad memories for Hawkeye, ones that she didn’t want to discuss and that he hadn’t pushed. Mustang knew most of them, although clearly not all of them. Riza had told them that story about her and the water jars when they had been here earlier in the year, and he hadn’t known that one. Also, from the stories, he was about twelve when he arrived, and Hawkeye somewhere around nine. That left a lot of years for Riza to be on her own here. Her mother had been alive long enough to teach Riza some things, but not long enough for Riza to form good solid memories of her.

Riza’s father had been harsh to say the least. That thrashing she talked about getting after she broke that plate, the one that she said was the first thrashing that her father had given her. Havoc was pretty sure that it wasn’t an over-statement of the past anymore, but a legitimate thrashing that her father had given her when she was five years old because she had dropped a plate he could have put back together again with alchemy.

He also knew that Her father had died in the house, and she had cared for him up until the end.

And now he knew that her father had done something horrific and traumatizing to her, something that, apparently, she was tied down for. The implications of that made a shudder run through him, and he now wondered if that had anything to do with the reason that she always wore shirts that completely covered her back, refusing to take them off.

What kind of a man was her father? And just how twisted up had he gotten her that she wouldn’t leave him after that and would, instead, care for him until his death? How had that been broken? He was beginning to understand now why she was so angry about coming back here those months ago. He’d have hated to be shoved back into a place that held a deep trauma like this too. He knew that she had trauma from Ishval as well. Just how had Riza Hawkeye managed to become so stable an individual after all of this? How had she survived in this house and come out as normal as she had? He didn’t know, and he wasn’t sure that he wanted to, but he was also worried about her. There were too many questions and not enough answers for his liking.

With a sigh he focused on the vegetables and chopping them up. He would likely get no answers tonight. None of them would. He didn’t know if they’d get answers tomorrow or not—it really was a long shot. But he did know that he would be there for Riza no matter what.

As Havoc predicted, no one was especially hungry, although they all tried to eat at least a little of the soup. Most of it was put into the refrigerator for later. Hayate, at least, was feeling better, although it was clear that the little pup was still groggy. He mostly wanted to curl up and lay on people. Even Breda was gentle with him this time, gently pushing the little pooch away from him.

Havoc didn’t particularly want to leave Mustang and Hawkeye down here on the couch alone—none of the team did—but staying up all night would do no good either. Breda and Falman told Mustang of their concerns about the basement. Together with Fuery, they worked on something to make sure that if there was an entrance to the house from the basement, whoever it was either wouldn’t be able to get into the house or would set off alarms if they did. Mustang was armed with his gloves and a small pistol, and Hayate was sleeping on the couch with them as well. In an unspoken agreement, Havoc, Breda, Falman, and Fuery all took turns standing watch that night. However, even for those that attempted sleep, there were a lot of wandering feel and frequent bathroom trips. It seemed no one could quite relax.

Havoc laid in bed and tried to sleep, although it didn’t seem to be working. Outside, the rain poured even harder than before, drowning out any other sound he might have heard. The thunder and lightning came in waves of noise. It all seemed strangely appropriate for this day, and it felt like a bad omen somehow. Was something worse to come in the future? He wasn’t one to believe in such things, but he still found himself hoping that favor would look kindly upon them. This had surely been enough excitement for one trip, right?

#fullmetal alchemist Big Bang 2021 #FMA Big Bang 2021 #Fullmetal Alchemist #fma #royai #riza hawkeye #Roy Mustang #Jean Havoc #Heymans Breda #Vato Falman #Kain Fuery #black hayate #fan fiction #fanfic

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adrianna-lisbon · 3 years ago

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So happy to have worked on this year's @fmabigbangs with the talented @art-and-jazz and to have her beautiful work accompany my writing!

My last piece, for @adrianna-lisbon

Read the fic here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/34299496/chapters/85339582

#fmabb21 #fullmetal alchemist big bang 2021 #fma big bang 2021 #fma #fmab #roy mustang #riza hawkeye #edward elric #alphonse elric #jean havoc #heymans breda #vato falman #kain fuery #rebecca catalina #maes hughes #black hayate #royai

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aquietwritingcorner · 3 years ago

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Embers of Revelation

Author: RealityBreakGirl/aquietlearningcorner Word Count: 10235 Rating: T Prompt: FMA Big Bang 2021 Warnings: Child abuse/neglect Characters: Riza Hawkeye, Roy Mustang, Jean Havoc, Heymans Breda, Vato Falman, Kain Fuery, Black Hayate Pairing: Royai Genre: Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Family Chapter: 2 of 7 Summary: Tasked by Fuhrer Grumman to investigate a suspected alchemic incident, General Mustang’s team finds themselves stranded in Hawkeye’s hometown. Needing a place to stay, they find themselves taking shelter in her childhood home. However, her past can’t stay buried there, and as revelations come to light, they also bring embers of danger with them. Sequel to Embers in a Wounded Heart AO3 || ff.net

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Chapter 1

Rain, Jean Havoc decided, was like pretty much everything else in life. It was fine once in a while, but too much of it was a problem. There had definitely been too much rain lately. He sat in the office, a cigarette in his mouth as he looked out the windows at the ever-present downpour. The view of the city was still rain-obscured, and there was no extra light coming in from the windows, unless you counted the flashes of lightning that happened every so often. Havoc didn’t, and he didn’t think anyone else did either.

Not that they had talked about it. The weather being this miserable had left almost everyone with a pent-up energy and short tempers. They all knew it and tried not to snap at each other, but it was hard to be either cooped up all day, or out in the rain all day. Even Hayate was getting restless.

Speaking of, the little pooch was currently sitting in Fuery’s lap, although he had long ago gotten too big for that sort of thing, and Hawkeye had—mostly—trained him out of it. The storms seemed to have left the typically happy dog subdued, wanting to be close to people, and Havoc wondered if it had to do with how he had been left out in a storm before Fuery had found him. It would make sense. It would also explain why he looked calmer with Fuery, as Fuery was the one who had rescued him.

But the presence of the dog also seemed to be helping Fuery too. It hadn’t escaped Havoc’s notice how the young man’s mostly good-natured grumbling about the rain affecting the communication lines had turned into something stiffer and more tense as the storms had moved in. Multiple cups of coffee had made their appearance on the young man’s desk once more, and he had been a bit more withdrawn. The pup seemed to help Fuery, though, and for that Havoc was glad.

Fuery wasn’t the only one being affected by the rain, and Havoc stretched out his back a bit as he sat there, taking the time to observe the others in the room. Falman was shifting what appeared to be a weather map around, and as he stretched, Havoc craned his neck to get a better view of what was on the other man’s desk. It seemed to be full of stacks of weather reports, including ones from other parts of the country. Falman was staring intently at the map he had and making notes on a notepad. It didn’t seem that interesting to Havoc, but Falman seemed focused on it. He looked at a stack of papers and frowned deeply, and Havoc caught sight of them enough to realize that he was looking at reports for the North. Havoc had to wonder—was this a project for the general, or did it have a more personal flavor to it? It might explain why Falman had looked so serious the longer this rain went on.

Havoc twisted the other way, just as Breda let out a grunt of annoyance. The red-headed man was scowling at what appeared to be a small amount of mayonnaise that had fallen from his sandwich, just narrowly missing the reports that were on his desk. Scowling, Breda reached for a napkin, although it didn’t escape his notice the way that Breda was favoring the elbow he broke in Pendleton. It seemed the weather was affecting it, which explained some of Breda’s irritation lately.

Havoc understood that well. He leaned back in his chair, stretching his arms. His legs were aching from the constant rainfall, along with his back, and he wished he could get outside and run, or even just get outside and smoke. Anything that wouldn’t leave him cooped up and soggy. He released his stretch, and reached in a drawer, pulling out a cigarette and lighting it up.

Breda glanced over at him, looking up from where he was cleaning up the mayonnaise. “I thought you were quitting those things,” he said.

“Tryin’,” Havoc drawled back. “But right now, they’re helping.”

Breda looked at him a moment, then snorted. “Go to the gym if you’re that restless,” he said, and turned back to his sandwich and his work.

“Nah,” Havoc said. “Its not the same. Doesn’t really help.”

“When you’re addicted again and Catalina tells you to shove off because you smell like an ashtray, don’t come crying to me then,” Breda said.

“Aw, didn’t know you cared,” he said back.

“I don’t,” Breda replied brusquely, and turned his back on Havoc.

Havoc grinned, glad to know that no matter the weather, he could count on his best friend’s surly attitude to brighten a room. Before he could say anything snarky back, the doors to the office opened, delivering a very soggy Hawkeye and Mustang, not that there was anything that wasn’t soggy lately. Neither of them looked happy, though, and Havoc found himself hoping it was because of the rain, and not because whatever news they had gotten.

As they shed their coats, though, Havoc caught sight of a plain manilla envelop in their hands and mentally groaned. Something told him that wasn’t pleasant news. Welp, only one way to find out.

“Hey Boss, Hawkeye,” he greeted them. “What’d Grumman want?”

“Fuhrer Grumman,” Riza corrected with a frown towards him. He let it roll right off him.

“Grumman wants us to go investigate another enclave,” Mustang said, either ignoring or exempt from Hawkeye’s scolding on how to refer to people.

“Again?” Breda said, turning around to face them. “Why us? Half of these turn out to be nothing, and most of the other half turn out to be so inept that they pretty much confess things on the spot.”

“Orders are orders,” Mustang said, although they could all hear the weariness in his voice. He wanted to be finished with jobs like this as well. “He wants the whole team on this one. It has the potential to be bigger than we realize. We’ll need to leave tomorrow.” He nodded his head towards Hawkeye. “Hawkeye will make the arrangements. We’ll travel by train. When she has that all worked out, she’ll let you know what time to be at the station.”

There was a mumbled agreement, and Mustang went off towards his office, envelope in hand. Hawkeye, on the other hand, went around pushing all the curtains open and turning on the lamps. Havoc could see Fuery out of the corner on his eye, trying to surreptitiously get Hayate down without her noticing.

“So, Hawkeye, where are we going?” Havoc asked her, watching as she came back to her desk. There was a tightness to her shoulders again, and it made Havoc frown. Why was she so tense?

“Womiob,” she said.

“Womiob?” Havoc said, the name ringing a bell in his head.

She nodded, but she didn’t say anything else as she was already picking up the phone and dialing. “Yes, hello. I need six tickets to Womiob, and I need to leave tomorrow. Yes, I know that your volume of traffic is up, however if you could—yes. Yes. Yes, I understand. A transfer at East City is acceptable. Yes. Yes, I’ll hold.”

Hawkeye glanced at the team, and frowned at Fuery pointedly, who at least had the grace to look a little sheepish, as Hayate was still in his lap. Before she could say or do anything, though, her attention snapped back to the phone.

“Yes, I’m still here. Yes. Alright, thank you. Someone from General Mustang’s command will be there to pick them up in the morning. Yes, I understand. Thank you.” She hung up the phone and took a moment to make a few notes on her notepad. Everyone waited silently. After a moment, she straightened up. “Alright, men,” she said. “The train leaves at 7:30 sharp. We need to be there at least by 7:00. The woman said that the trains have been packed lately, so it’s best to get there early to get a seat.”

“Mustang’s not going to like that,” Breda grunted out.

Hawkeye smiled. “You just leave Mustang to me. He’ll be there on time. Pack for a week or longer and pack a lunch. It’s going to be a long trip.”

There was a collective grumble at that, but it didn’t seem to discourage Hawkeye any. She just straightened her shoulders and, still tense, made her way back into Mustang’s office. They all watched until the door to Mustang’s office closed, and only then did they start speaking.

“…Think we’ll find anything this time?” Havoc asked.

“Who knows?” Breda said. “Half of me wants to find something to make this trip worth it.”

“Yeah…” Havoc looked out the window and trailed off. “I’m not looking forward to traveling in this weather.”

“Maybe it’ll be better at Womiob,” Fuery said, settling Hayate back in his lap.

Falman shook his head. “Not likely. Looking at the current weather patterns and the reports, I’d estimate that we’d experience at least just as much rain as we are here. In fact, looking at the current reports—”

“Yeah, yeah, we get it. It’s going to be wet, miserable and raining no matter where we go,” Breda interrupted.

Havoc sighed. “Well, guess we better make sure we’re ready.”

With a sigh, Fuery reached for the phone, placing a call down to records. Havoc could hear him apologizing to Sheska for breaking a movie date again, and he heard the others returning to their work. But Havoc’s attention was fixed more firmly on that door and the tension he had seen in Hawkeye.

It hadn’t been that long ago that he, Mustang, and Hawkeye had all taken a trip together. They had gone to Awrout, Hawkeye’s hometown, and to Hawkeye’s childhood home, for research. They had come back empty handed with that, and Havoc had carried the distinct impression that it might have been better that way. But Havoc had gained a greater understanding of both Mustang and Hawkeye, as well as some insights in their female captain’s early life.

This tension didn’t seem to be as heavy as that tension had been, but it was still heavier than the tension she typically had on one of these missions, and it left Havoc wondering.

“Hey, Falman. Lemme see one of those maps,” he said.

“Why?” Falman questioned as he passed it over.

“I wanna see where Womiob is.”

Falman passed one over to him, and Havoc looked it over. It was a little southeast of East City, near the border, and that explained why Havoc knew of it. Some of the supplies from the East had come through there to his family’s store. But that wasn’t what he was looking for now, and he traced the path they would take to get there. Sure enough, as he suspected, they would go through Awrout.

He handed the map back to Falman with a word of thanks, and then sat back, staring at the door again. That trip had brought up a lot of bad memories for Hawkeye, to the point of a vulnerability Havoc didn’t think he had ever seen out of her. Even though they would just be passing through, after that he was sure it would be uncomfortable for her.

Breda had taken the map from Falman and was now looking at the route himself. “…That’s why you wanted to see,” he said, and Havoc’s attention swiveled back to him. Breda’s eyes were fixed on Awrout as well. “You never did tell us what happened on that trip.”

That caught the attention of Falman and Fuery, who now also looked at the map, understanding and curiosity in their eyes when they saw Awrout.

“I told ya,” Havoc said, taking another drag on his cigarette, “It’s not my business ta tell. Hawk n’ Mustang will let you know if they want you to.”

“You did tell us that the captain’s father was the general’s alchemy teacher,” Fuery said.

“Yeah, and that’s all,” Havoc said, stressing it, “because that’s all I really know. You know how those two are. When they wanna keep a secret, no one knows about it.”

“It’s too bad it’s a rushed trip,” Falman said. “I would like to see the place the captain grew up.”

“It’s just a wide spot in the road, Falman,” Havoc said. “Now drop it. You know neither of them would be happy to hear us talking about Hawkeye behind her back like this.”

The others took the hint, and settled back down into their work, but Havoc couldn’t help but glance at the door, and remember the tension in Hawkeye’s shoulders. It should be fine, though, right? After all, they would just be passing through, and then all they would have to focus on was the mission.

The next day broke the same as all of the previous days—cloudy, raining, and miserable. Havoc personally felt that the early hour made it even worse. He had nothing against being up early—he had grown up getting up early—but he hadn’t been sleeping well due to his aching legs and back. It took him a bit of hobbling around to get his legs warmed up and ease the stiffness and pain out of them, which slowed him down. While he was well acquainted with doing various things from a seated position, the delay in moving meant that he had to rush out the door to make it to the train station in time. It was never a good idea to keep Hawkeye waiting when she had given you a clear time to be somewhere.

Wet and muddy from the walk, Havoc somehow managed to make it to the station on time. He grimaced at the muck on his boots, doing his best to scrape it off on the curb before he entered. The station was already packed, with dozens of other soggy travelers standing around in small, sleepy groups. He supposed that most people that had to travel were opting for the train as opposed to a car or wagon. It was less muddy, drier, and you could at least get up and walk around a little.

Still, in the crush of people, it took him a minute to spot his team. They weren’t the only military personal traveling by train—there were plenty of others there too. It took him a moment to spot his team, but once he did he wound his way through the crowd towards them, taking them in as he approached. Mustang had his expensive luggage again and was yawning, just like the last time they had traveled. Hawkeye was, to no surprise, looking positively bright-eyed and bushytailed, as his Pa would say, and had her sturdy carpetbag by her feet. Fuery was traveling like him, a rucksack slung over his shoulder, still looking a bit tired as he rubbed under his glasses. Breda was Breda, looking grouchy with his plain piece of luggage, but was, as usual, alert. Falman’s bag was odd, looking like something from up north, which it probably was, and the tall man was currently holding Hayate for Hawkeye, keeping the pup off of the muddy ground

Part of Havoc wondered how much longer it would be until Falman just went back up North and stayed there. It was obvious that he had become a Briggsman, and Havoc wouldn’t be the least bit surprised when he made the final move up that way.

“Finally,” Breda said as Havoc approached them, although there was an upturn to his lips that let Havoc know he was teasing him. “You just gotta be the last one here, huh?”

“Yeah, well, you try finding a taxi in this weather,” he shot back.

“Alright boys,” Hawkeye said, interrupting the banter. “Here are your tickets.” She started passing out tickets to them, along with a file folder. “You’re also getting copies of the reports that we’ll need to look over. This is confidential information, so let’s keep the chatter on it to a minimum until we’re in a more secure location—and please, try to keep it dry.”

Havoc was half sure he heard Breda mumble something that sounded like “good luck” at that, but if Hawkeye heard it, she ignored it.

“When we board, we need to do our best to find a place to sit together,” Mustang said. “It’s not going to be easy, but it’ll be for the best. Keep close. It’s clearly going to be a crowded train ride.”

“Is Hayate going to be alright on the trip?” Fuery asked, the sleep starting to leave his eyes.

Hawkeye smiled at him, concerns about the pup always softening her a bit. “He’ll be fine enough, I think. We’ll just have to keep an eye on him. If you can help me out with that, Sergeant, I’d appreciate it.”

“Of course, sir!” Fuery said.

“I’ll pitch in, too,” Havoc offered. “I’m sure I’ll be walking the train some—the pooch can come with me.”

“Thank you, Havoc, I appreciate it.”

Breda was eyeing the dog with a bit of distaste, but he wisely chose to not say anything. He still wasn’t fond of dogs, but he had nominally accepted Hayate as something that would be around and was occasionally useful, which was a big improvement from screaming in fear—not that Havoc was ever going to let him forget that. What good buddy would?

The rest of the time until boarding was spent watching each other’s stuff while they took turns for the bathroom, talking over the situation that they were heading into, and generally making small talk. They subtly moved closer to the train car as they did, hoping to get a good run at the seats.

Breda bumped his elbow. “Hey,” he said, in a lull in conversation, “You alright?”

He must have noticed the way that Havoc was shifting as he was standing there, having trouble standing still for a bit. “Yeah… it’s just going to be a bit rough. This weather has been messing with me. My legs and back have been aching a lot. I didn’t sleep well last night.”

Breda frowned. “I get that,” he said. “My elbow’s been aching for days. I know it’s not quite the same, but…”

“Nah, close enough,” Havoc said. “It’s just something I’ll have to deal with. I’ll take this over not being able to walk at all.”

Breda grunted, but Havoc could tell that he was keeping an extra eye on him.

Soon it was time to board the train, and they, along with almost everyone else, made a rush for it. It was a bit of pushing and jostling, and Havoc felt a bit sorry for the conductors, but they managed to get on board and snag some decent seats. They stowed their luggage and settled in for what looked to be a long and very crowded ride.

The poor weather did, though, help keep the crowds a bit subdued. The skies were still exceedingly dark, with the rain pouring in droves against the windows. Thunder crackled overhead and lightning flashed, and most people kept their conversation to a low murmur. The conductors came by and lit the lamps that were in the train cars. Groups sat together, cramped into seats, and kids played in the aisles, although quietly for the most part. The whole atmosphere had an odd feel to it that Havoc didn’t like, and it made him put off reading the folder that Hawkeye had given him. He didn’t want to add to the uneasy feeling that he already had.

The ride was long and, as he suspected, Havoc had trouble staying still. His legs ached for movement, and so he walked the train car, even walking the length of the train a couple of times. They passed through several small towns, although Havoc frowned when he realized that for some reason things were becoming familiar. It was only when he heard a conductor mention that they were coming up on Awrout that he realized why and headed back towards the team.

Passing between the cars was a bit more difficult this time, with the wind buffeting him and rain slicing into his uniform. He wondered if it was just the direction he was going, or if the weather was picking up. Ultimately, it didn’t matter. By the time he arrived back in the car he was more than a little wet. It wasn’t as important to him, though, as how Hawkeye was feeling. She had switched seats by this time—although to be fair they all had, several times—and was now sitting with Mustang between her and the window. She seemed tense, although she was trying not to appear tense. To her team, though, who knew her so well, it was obvious. Mustang angling towards her was a dead giveaway. Their subtilty was a little less subtle then normal, and the team took notice.

“You’re not sitting next to me like that,” Breda said, eyeing Havoc. “What did you do, stand on the platforms between cars?”

“Yeah. Thought I’d bring Falman another weather report and a sampling,” he replied, although he didn’t try to sit down.

Mustang frowned. “Is it getting worse out there?” he asked.

“I think so, sir,” Havoc said. “Or at least, it seemed to be. Coulda just been how we were traveling.”

Falman’s brow creased. “I hope that it isn’t going to cause any problems,” Falman said. “There have been reports of the amount of rain causing problems with infrastructure.”

Mustang’s frown increased, but he didn’t say anything as a conductor came by. “We’re going to be pulling into Awrout in a few moments. Please stay seated if you are not disembarking here.”

Breda looked out the window, although nothing but trees could be seen. “Doesn’t look like there’s much here to disembark for.”

“There’s not,” Hawkeye said, a bit harsh, and the other men exchanged a look. Havoc knew what was up, but the other men seemed concerned or curious as to her tone. None of them pressed it though, knowing how private Hawkeye was.

It was a few minutes later when the train started to slow, although something about it felt a bit off. They had all traveled on trains enough to feel that, and it seemed that they weren’t the only ones, as several other adults around seem tense up a bit as well. Still, they pulled into the station with no problems as far as the train went. Hawkeye, though, was very stiff and still, Mustang very atuned to her, and the rest of the team seeming a bit unsure about the whole thing. Havoc eyed them carefully, trying to get a good read on the situation as they sat in the train and waited to leave.

And waited.

They waited far passed an acceptable time to wait, even if the train needed water. Hawkeye was growing more and more tense as they sat there, and Mustang looked as if he was about to get up to go demand some information. Havoc was just about to volunteer to do it himself, just to make sure Mustang didn’t throw his weight around too much, when a conductor, drenched in rain, entered the car.

“Ladies and gentlemen, if I may have your attention, please,” he said, and the train car quieted down. “There’s been some trouble. The tracks have washed out down the line and have made any further travel unsafe. We’re going to stay here in Awrout until the tracks are repaired. There is a small inn that has offered up rooms for a reduced price, and many of the good folk have offered up their homes for guests. We’ll also be using the train for sleeping accommodations. I’m sorry for this, folks, but it’s not safe to go on.”

Havoc glanced at Hawkeye. She had gone ramrod straight in her seat, her knuckles white as she clutched her folder. Mustang was frowning deeply, and within a moment he stood up.

“Excuse me,” he said to the conductor, and the chatter that had started up stopped. “If it’s a matter of repair, I can be of help. I’m a state alchemist. I can fix the tracks if you take me to them.”

A murmur started up again, but the conductor shook his head. “I appreciate the offer, sir, but it’s not just the tracks. The ground is too saturated for it to be safe. Additionally, there’s also a bridge to cross further down that is too risky right now.”

Mustang frowned. “What about going back, then?” he asked.

The conductor shook his head again. “The problem of ground saturation is the same. Even after this rain ends, we’re going to have to inspect the tracks for safety. I thank you for your offer, but unless your alchemy can stop this rain, then there isn’t much you can do.”

With that the conductor left, and the train went back to murmuring among themselves. The team exchanged uneasy looks, but no one seemed to have a good suggestion as for what to do.

Finally, Hawkeye, who had been growing more and more on edge, spoke. “This is ridiculous!” she said, abruptly standing up. She gathered Hayate in her arms and strode down the car towards the door. Mustang shot out of his seat, following her with a look of alarm on his face.

“What—” Havoc heard Breda mutter, but that was all he heard before the red-head was gathering both his and Mustang’s luggage and following behind. Taking the hint, the rest of the team quickly followed after, Havoc grabbing Hawkeye’s bag as well as his own. By the time they got outside, Hawkeye and Mustang were already at the small Station Master’s building, Hawkeye pressing in to talk to the Station Master. Havoc couldn’t hear exactly what she was saying, but it was clear that she was unhappy.

“—you telling me that there’s nothing? No cars, no trucks, not even a wagon out of here?”

The Station Master was shaking his head. “No, there’s nothin’. Nothin’ can get through this rain. It’s hard enough for the locals to get about.”

“But surely there’s something. Clearly supplies have been coming in,” she pressed.

“Until right now, it was the trains,” he said, giving her a stern look. “There’s no gettin’ out of here unless you wanna walk, Miss Hawkeye—and I don’t recommend that.”

Her jaw worked for a moment, and tension seemed to fill her.

“What’s up with Hawkeye?” Breda murmured, his brow furrowed.

Havoc considered what to say for a moment. How much should he say about the little that he knew? Should he even say anything?

Even in her obvious emotion, Hawkeye was a logical person, and she seemed to sense that there was no further to go on this argument. She huffed. “Fine. We’ll go take a room at the inn, then.”

The station master fixed her with a chastising. “I never took you for the selfish type, Miss Hawkeye,” he said. “There’s plenty ‘a people on that train with no place to stay ‘round here. You’ve got a place that’ll hold you ‘n all of yours, just with some supplies.”

Hawkeye looked something between outraged, guilty, and chastised, to Havoc’s eyes and, after a moment, she turned to leave. Mustang stood in her way and their eyes met, one of their silent conversations flowing between them. She took a couple of deep breaths, her jaw set, and Hayate whined against her.

“Fine,” she said, voice tight. “We’ll go there.”

She turned and stalked off, heading off the platform and down, the bewildered team following.

“What’s going on?” Breda asked again, although louder, so that anyone could answer the question.

When neither Hawkeye nor Mustang answered, Havoc took it upon himself to. “…This is Hawkeye’s hometown,” he said. “And it looks like we’ll be staying at the place she grew up.”

That apparently answered very little of the team’s questions, but Havoc wouldn’t answer more at the moment. With no other idea what to do, they followed Hawkeye and Mustang. The packed dirt road Havoc remembered from his last visit had turned into thick muck that pulled at his boots, and the rain soaked his uniform even further. It didn’t slow Mustang or Hawkeye, though, as they made their way to the general store, where Hawkeye ducked in with no hesitation at all. Mustang followed her, but Breda stepped in front of Havoc and turned to face him, stopping the rest of them before they went in.

“Alright, I want to know what you know,” he said to Havoc. “You and the general and captain came here a few months back because the general wanted to do some research. Mustang and Hawkeye looked like they were going to end each other when they left, and when you came back, they were better than before. You know what happened here and you have information. I wasn’t going to press because it wasn’t relevant. It’s relevant now. What do you know, Havoc?”

Falman and Fuery’s eyes turned towards him, and Havoc looked between the three men who were looking to him for answers. Finally, with a sigh, he relented. “Alright. Look, not all of it is mine to tell, okay? And some of it is private. But I’ll give you the bare bones.”

Breda nodded and seemed satisfied with that.

Havoc continued. “This is Hawkeye’s hometown. She grew up here, but… I don’t have the whole story, but it wasn’t a happy childhood. All I really know is that it was tough, her mother died when she was young, and she took care of her father until he died.” He could see the men’s reactions: the sympathy blooming in Fuery’s eyes, the uncomfortable shifting of Falman, and the stoic, calculating gaze of Breda. “I… don’t think he was good father,” he said. “I already told you that her father was the General’s alchemy teacher, but no, I don’t know what this means about flame alchemy. For all I know, he just taught the general the basics and he learned flame alchemy somewhere else. I don’t know anything for sure.” Although he had his theories that it at least came from Hawkeye’s dad’s research. “But that’s the basics. Hawkeye’s hometown, hard childhood, and Mustang studied under her dad.”

Breda’s eyes cut toward the doorway of the store. “That explains a little, at least,” he said, although it was clear that he also had other questions.

“Yeah, well, don’t push too much on anything else, okay? I don’t think she’s in the mood for it.” With that, Havoc moved around him and into the store, looking around.

Mrs. Nelson spotted him immediately and waved him over. “Oh, Lieutenant,” she said. “It’s so good to see you again! I didn’t expect you to come back so soon.”

Havoc gave her an easy grin. “To be fair, ma’am, we weren’t supposed to do more than just pass through.”

She clucked her tongue. “I’ll say! What a situation! My husband is out back looking over a wagon that should be good for you. Riza said that there were six of you this time, correct? Plus, that little fellow,” she gestured to Hayate, who was currently enjoying the scratches and cuddles of a couple of kids. “That’s quite a number of supplies. We might have to stretch it a bit. Then again, she always has been good at making things stretch, poor thing.”

“Yes’m,” Havoc replied. He had heard the others come in behind him. “These are the others that are with us. Lieutenant Heymans Breda, Lieutenant Vato Falman, and Master Sergeant Kain Fuery. If you don’t mind, ma’am, I’ll let them help you with the supplies. The captain knows more about wagons then the general does, but I’d still rather look myself.”

“Mercy, yes,” she said. “You go on out back, that way.” She waved her hand. “I’ll take care of the rest.”

Havoc gave her a wave, leaving the others to her, and went out back towards the loading dock. It was still, of course, pouring rain, but Havoc had just resigned himself to being soaked to the bone at this point. He didn’t see them anywhere, but he kept going, eventually finding them in a barn out back that was, mercifully, fairly dry. Mustang, Hawkeye, and Mr. Nelson were discussing a wagon, and Riza was looking at it a bit uncertainly.

“If you’re wonderin’ if I can drive that in the rain, the answer’s yes,” he said, interrupting them. “I’ve driven them in all sorts of weather. It’ll be slow going, but I think I can manage.”

Mr. Nelson looked at him. “I like your confidence, son, but are ya sure? It’s a mite of a distance t’ the old Hawkeye place, and the road isn’t good to begin with.”

“That’s true,” Havoc said, “but if we do come across a problem, there’s a good chance that the general’s alchemy can help us out.”

Mr. Nelson eyed Mustang as if he wasn’t quite sure that he could believe that, but Hawkeye cut in on him. “No, Havoc has a point. If something breaks, or we need something made, then the general should be able to help us out. If you’re worried about your wagon, please don’t be. We will take care of it, and repair anything it needs.”

Mr. Nelson seemed to consider this, then nodded. “Alright. I’ll let ya take her ‘n’ a couple ‘o the horses, as long as ya bring them back in a couple o’ days, even if it’s still pourin’ rain.”

Mustang nodded. “We can do that, Mr. Nelson.”

Mr. Nelson nodded. “Alright. Then let’s get her loaded up for you.”

The next few minutes were spent with readying the wagon and horses, while Hawkeye went back to check on the state of the supplies. Mustang followed her after Mr. Nelson practically chased him out, telling him he’d be of better use in there then with the horses.

Mr. Nelson looked over at the door to the barn, then back to Havoc. “They seem to be better than they were comin’ in the last time ya were here,” he said.

Havoc smiled. “They are,” he said. “They got better by the end of that trip.”

He nodded. “Alright. You all look after her now, alright? I know she’s strong, but she’s had a tough time here.”

This time, Havoc grinned. “Don’tcha worry about that. She’s got a whole team to look after her.”

Mr. Nelson gave a nod, and they spoke no more on it after that.

After preparing it, Havoc and Mr. Nelson took the wagon out into the rain, but not before they made sure all of the supplies were ready to load. Neither of them wanted the wagon or the horses to be in the rain more than necessary. Havoc took charge of the loading, as Mr. Nelson’s sons who would usually do it, were busy helping with the train passangers. He had experience on how to load the wagon, and Mr. Nelson watched for a while until he nodded approvingly and left. It took a while, but the wagon was loaded up and covered with an oiled cloth. Not long after that, they were ready to go, Havoc at the reigns with Hayate sitting up there with him to spare the little dog the mud.

It was slow going, and most of the team walked just because of that. Truthfully, they could have walked it faster than the wagon was going, but they all stuck with it simply because of the difficulty that the wagon encountered along the way. More than once, they had to stop and dig the wagon out the mud or levee it up. At times, Mustang had to use his alchemy to try to make a way for the wagon to move easier through the mud. By the time they arrived at the Hawkeye estate they were all soaked and filthy.

The house, to Havoc, looked even more foreboding in this weather. It loomed, especially as the lightning flashed behind it. He looked at Hawkeye out of the corner of his eye and watched her shudder. It could easily be passed off as a chill from the weather and the way that she was soaked, but both Havoc and Mustang seemed to see something in her eyes, and they exchanged glances. This was clearly going to be hard for her, not that Havoc had really expected anything less.

He drove the wagon around back, just like before, although this time Hawkeye didn’t go in through the front door but took her keys around to the back. The team followed, all of them drenched and muddy. Hawkeye took the keys and put them in the lock, turning it, cursing, turning it harder, and then shoving her shoulder into it. It made a creaking sound like it was unsticking, but it didn’t budge.

“Oh, come on!” she snapped out, clearly irritated. She shoved against it harder, and it didn’t move. She huffed. “It’s always stuck in bad weather,” she said.

“Let me try,” Breda said, and Hawkeye stepped out of the way. Breda turned the knob, and leaned his shoulder into it, giving the door a hard shove. For a moment, it looked like it wasn’t going to move, but after a couple of seconds, it finally did, pushing open with a sticking, scraping sound. Breda stumbled inside with the door, shoving it all the way open.

Hawkeye followed after him, but Havoc stayed on the wagon. Mustang turned to look at him and the other men. “Alright. Let’s get this unloaded. Try not to track too much mud in.”

“Yes, sir!” Fuery replied. He reached up to the wagon, and gathered Hayate in his arms, taking the soggy dog inside.

“That’s cheating!” Havoc called after him but turned and got down off the wagon. He instructed Falman in how to roll the oiled cloth back just a bit at a time so all the goods wouldn’t get soaked while they were unloading them, and then a frenzied unloading began, all the men working quickly to pull out the items. Havoc got glimpses of Hawkeye as she directed them in where to put things, clearly in charge of the house. Most of it was piled in corners until she could clean the counters and the cabinets, but it was at least inside and out of the rain. Her floors were a mess of mud and water, but there was little any of them could do about that.

“I’ll go take care of the horses and get them settled. I think that the barn was relatively sound,” Havoc said.

“It is,” Mustang replied. “I made sure of it.”

Havoc saw Riza look at Mustang askance, but she said nothing. Instead, she started directing the men about what to do about their muddy clothes. After all, cleaning up tracked mud through the house wasn’t exactly anyone’s idea of a good time.

Havoc left them there, heading out to the barn. Like last time, he parked the wagon in it, and unhitched the horses. The Nelsons had been kind enough to provide hay and feed for them, and Havoc took care of it all, getting them settled. He figured that Hawkeye would probably know how to do this, but would anyone else? He honestly wasn’t sure if any of his teammates had the skills for this or not. It would be something that he would need to find out.

Soon enough, it was all done, and he stopped at the barn door to scrape what he could of the mud off of his boots. Sure, he was just going to get more on them, but it was, at least, less to track in or to leave by the back door. He made his way across the squishing, muddy yard to the back door, which had been at least somewhat shoved closed. He pushed it open and slipped inside, closing it behind him. The only one in the kitchen at the moment was Hawkeye, who was busy cleaning out cabinets and cleaning off counters.

“Where’s everyone else?” he asked as she worked.

“I made them strip down and leave their clothes in the washroom,” she said. “Then I sent them with their luggage to go clean up and change.” She looked at him. “You’re less muddy than the rest of us because you were on the wagon, but you’re still pretty dirty and soaked through. Why don’t you put your boots and clothes in the washroom, and then head to the showers yourself.”

“What about you?” he asked, not wanting to leave her to do all the work herself.

She shook her head. “It’ll be easier for all of you men to go first. Then I’ll go. I know where everything goes, and I can work on getting the kitchen order and cleaning this floor.”

He frowned at her. “It’ll be a bit, then, before I get a turn, yeah? I can help you out until then at least.”

Hawkeye seemed to consider that. “Alright,” she said. “I already sent the others up with cleaning supplies for the rest of the house while they wait. You can help me start unloading the food and washing the dishes here.” She jerked a thumb at the washroom. “Leave your boots on, because there’s no saving this floor at the moment, but go ahead and leave your jacket and butt cape in the washroom.”

“Right-o,” he said, and headed off to do that.

It only took him a few minutes, and then he was back with her, cleaning the taller things, and helping to get the kitchen in order. He helped her get the stove cleaned out and fetched some wood from the indoor pile to get a fire in it started. As soon as they had cleaned up the coffee pot, a pot of coffee was put on. All of the men would be appreciative of the warm drink. With the two of them working together, it wasn’t long before the kitchen was getting in working order, with the food put away and the appliances functional.

She sent him out when it was mostly done, to strip and then go wandering upstairs in his underwear to see if he could get a shower yet. It seemed Mustang and Breda had managed to shower, although the water was getting colder with each turn they took, and were now dressed in clean, and more importantly, dry clothes. Falman was currently in, and Fuery was waiting.

“I was wondering when you’d get here,” Breda said.

Havoc flashed him a grin. “What, couldn’t wait to see this?” he teased.

“Ugh, no. I just want to see Hawkeye put you to work like the rest of us.”

“Hey—driving that wagon was hard work!” he protested. “And I took care of the horses and helped Hawkeye clean up the kitchen. I think I’ve been doing more work than you!”

“It does sound like a lot,” Fuery pipped up from where he was leaning on the wall, waiting on his turn for the shower. “She gave us a list of things to do when we were clean as well. Most of it is just things to prepare the rooms, though.”

“Yeah?” Havoc said. “She tell you which rooms to go in?”

“She said all the bedrooms, but told us to stay out of the study,” Fuery said.

“Huh,” Havoc said. “Even that one?” he pointed to the Master bedroom.

“Yeah,” Breda said. His eyes narrowed in confusion. “Any reason she shouldn’t?”

“I mean, it was just that was her father’s room. I didn’t know if she wanted anyone else in there,” he said with a shrug.

“I’m the only one that’s been in there so far,” Mustang said, as he appeared from the study, the one room that he, apparently, had permission to go into that the others did not. “I’ve taken care of it. It’ll be up to her, though, what happens from here.”

“Gotcha,” Havoc said, but before he could say anything more, Falman emerged from the bathroom, done with his shower. “Fuery,” he called. “Your turn.”

Fuery wasted no time in getting up and heading towards the shower, clearly ready to be clean and in dry clothes again.

“If you want,” Havoc said to the other men, “Hawkeye ‘n I put on a pot of coffee downstairs. You might have to ask her pass it back out to you, if the floor is still muddy, though. She’s pretty adamant about us not tracking it in the rest of the house.”

Mustang sighed. “She always was.” The other three men looked at Mustang curiously, obviously hoping for some sort of story, but he didn’t give it to them. “Alright,” he said, “let’s finish up here and then see what she needs our help with downstairs.”

Fuery was, mercifully, a quick shower, and he was in and out soon. Havoc soon found out why. The water was freezing, but it did do its job. By the time he emerged, his teeth were chattering, but he was clean.

“I vote we make Falman shower last,” he muttered to himself. “He had to have gotten used to the cold at Briggs.”

He dressed and took note of how the second floor seemed to be quite clean and, at this point, fairly well-lit despite the dark day. He could hear the others downstairs, and so he made his way down. Hawkeye already had them cleaning, although she had clearly confined herself to the kitchen, who’s floor was about half clean.

“Hey, I’m out,” he said, looking at her, and she nodded to him.

“Alright, let me just finish this floor and then I’ll head up as well.” She said.

“Just to warn you, that water is as cold as Briggs.” Havoc said.

He could have sworn he heard a muttered “not likely” from Falman, but he didn’t follow it up right then.

Hawkeye just snorted. “It wouldn’t be the first time,” she said. “At least it’s not frozen solid. That was a problem one year.”

Havoc could imagine that it was, but he didn’t really have too much to say on that. Instead, he stepped into the kitchen, on the clean parts of the floor, and reached for the coffee pot. It didn’t take him long to pour a cup, just as it didn’t take Hawkeye long to finish the floor. Within minutes it was sparkling and clean, and there was no mud in sight. He honestly had no idea how she had managed it, but she clearly had.

“Alright,” she said, standing in the doorway of the washroom. “Close your eyes.”

“What?” he said.

“Close your eyes,” she repeated. “Do you think I’m going to go up there in this and track mud all throughout my house? No thank you. I need to strip down too.”

“Ah,” Havoc said, and immediately turned around. “I’m just gonna… I’ll go warn the guys,” he said, slipping out of the kitchen and into the rest of the house, keeping his back to her the whole time.

“Hey,” he said, as he walked into the rest of the house, spotting Breda and Falman right away. “Hawkeye’s about to strip down to go get her shower, and she’d rather have her privacy.”

“Of course.”

“Sure.”

“Hey Fuery,’d hear that?” He called, spotting the young man scrutinizing the old radio in the living room.

“What?” he said.

“I said Hawkeye’s about to come through, so look away.”

“Oh! Yes, sir, can do!”

“Where’s Mustang?” Havoc asked.

“Right here,” he said, emerging from the lower bathroom with Hayate wrapped in a towel. “I was trying to heat up the water. I think it worked.”

“What’s what the dog?” Havoc asked.

“She’ll want to bathe him too. Might as well do it while she’s bathing. It’s faster that way.”

“Is everyone warned?” Hawkeye’s voice floated back from the kitchen. Havoc looked at the men, who respectfully turned their backs to the direction that she’d need to come through. He turned his as well.

“Yeah, you’re good!” he called back, and closed his eyes for an extra added layer of security. He could hear her bare feet padding through, moving quickly, and then heard another set of footsteps join her—the General.

“I’ve got Hayate for you,” he said as they walked.

“Thank you, but I’m not sure how he’s going to take the cold water.”

“You don’t have to worry about that. I made sure that the water was warm.”

“Without burning the house down? Impressive.”

“Hey, that was one time!”

Their voices faded as they made their way upstairs, and when they heard the last stair creak, the men opened their eyes and turned back around. For a moment, they were silent.

“…well. We all knew it,” Breda said.

“Seems the general can see the captain like that,” Falman said.

“Yeah, and like it wasn’t anything new,” Breda said. A moment of silence fell over the men before Breda spoke up again. “Alright, back to work. We don’t want the Hawk shooting us because we were here gossiping instead of working.”

There was a bit of grumbling, but the men kept working. Havoc helped a bit with direction seeing as he had been here before and had a vague idea of what Hawkeye might want. Meanwhile, from upstairs they could hear some noise that sounded like feet moving too close together, and heavy steps. The men exchanged looks, Havoc raising his eyebrows more than once, at least until Mustang came down the stairs with Hayate wrapped in another towel.

“Sounded like quite a time up there, sir,” Havoc drawled as Mustang came into view.

Mustang blinked at him for a moment, and then scowled. “It was Hayate,” he said. “The captain was bathing him too, and after he was finished, she handed him out to me. But he didn’t want to come.”

“Mm-hm,” Havoc said. “Handed him to you, huh?”

Mustang’s scowl increased. “I can still set you on fire, Havoc.”

Havoc grinned at him but got back to work.

It wasn’t long after that, that Riza came back down, looking much cleaner and a bit more relaxed. Mustang had started a fire in the fireplace in the living room by then, and Hayate was laying by the fire, sleeping as he dried off.

“Feel better, Captain?” Fuery asked her.

“Much,” she said as she looked around the room. “You boys seem to be doing a good job.”

“Well General said you were picky,” Havoc said. “Although he didn’t say how he knew.”

A bit of a smile played at her lips. “I would hit him with the mop when he tracked mud in my house,” she said.

Breda stopped, leaning on the broom he had. “Yeah, so, that brings up a few questions.”

Mustang and Hawkeye exchanged a look. Finally, Hawkeye spoke. “This is my childhood home,” she said. “I grew up in this house with my father. He was an alchemist.”

Even though she had said it with a straight face and an even tone, that statement seemed to hold a hidden weight. Havoc exchanged looks with Breda.

“When I was young, he took on the general as an apprentice. My father taught him basic and advanced alchemy before the general left for the military.”

There was clearly more to the story, but she also obviously wasn’t going to share it. Eyes shifted over to Mustang.

“I was here for many years, but her father didn’t approve of me leaving to join the military and kicked me out. I only returned when I learned that Master Hawkeye was dying. After that, I returned to the military. But, if your question is, did Hawkeye and I grow up together, I’d have to say that yes, for a good portion of our childhoods we did.”

It was clear from his redirection that he considered the questions on the rest of it closed. It was also clear that there was a lot more to the story. But why they weren’t saying more, well, that wasn’t nearly as clear. Havoc had been satisfied last time with the little knowledge he was left with. But now? He had the feeling that he was going to end up learning more than he had the first time around.

He just hoped it was in a better manner then his last visit here.

With the topic clearly closed, the team got back to work, and, under Hawkeye’s clear direction, it wasn’t long before the house was clean to her satisfaction. With the fire blazing in the living room, making it the warmest in the house, they all took a break in there. Fuery headed straight to the radio to mess with it, clearly giving it a look over.

“It’s not very good,” Hawkeye said as she sat down. Hayate woke up enough to pad over to her and paw at her for attention. “Father wasn’t much for spending money, or for the radio.” She reached down to give Hayate some attention.

“Are you kidding, sir?” Fuery said. “It’s a beauty! It old, but I bet I can make it work again—with your permission, sir.”

Hawkeye gestured at it. “Go ahead. If you can make it receive better, I’m all for it.”

“You said your father didn’t like the radio,” Falman said. “May I ask why?”

Riza reached down and picked up Hayate, bringing him up onto the couch with her. “He never really told me. He didn’t really talk to me. But I think it was because the music reminded him of mother, and he didn’t want that.”

“What happened to your mother?” Falman asked, and Havoc listened with interest.

“She died,” Hawkeye said, “when I was young. I don’t really remember her, aside from associations of brightness, warmth, and color. I know she taught me a lot, because I have some early memories where I was thinking ‘that’s how Mother did it,’ but I don’t actually remember her teaching me. But Father didn’t want much that reminded him of her, so no music.”

Havoc looked at Hawkeye, and he couldn’t help but wonder about her statement that her father “didn’t want much that reminded him” of her mother. He wanted to ask, “did that mean you too?” but he didn’t feel like he should ask that, and so he didn’t.

But the question lingered in the back of his mind.

The day had been a long one and, even with a moment to rest, there was still more to do. They had been either traveling or busy most of the day, and the dinner hour was nearing. All of them were hungry and, after some time to rest, Hawkeye stood up.

“I should start supper,” she said. “It’ll require more prep time to feed this many mouths.”

“I’ll give you a hand,” Havoc said, and went to push up, only to stop with a wince as pain flashed through his lower back.

“Hav?” Breda said, concern in his voice.

Havoc gave him a strained smile. “Ah, it’s nothing. Weather’s just been affecting me.”

Hawkeye was frowning at him. “You’ve done a lot today too. Maybe you should just rest.”

“Yeah, but you need some help. And we know the General is of no use.”

Mustang muttered something under his breath, but Breda stood up. “You’re not the only one that can at least peel a potato, Hav,” he said.

“I can help too,” Falman volunteered.

“If you need me, I can as well,” Fuery said, although it was clear that he really wanted to stay working on the radio.

“No, you’re good, Fuery,” Hawkeye said. “These two should be good enough. Too many cooks spoil the pot and all of that.”

Havoc could see Fuery blinking at her in surprise, obviously not expecting a phrase that had a more country flair to come out of her mouth but nodded anyway. “Alright, thank you, sir,” he said, and turned his attention back to the radio.

Havoc watched them leave, and then turned and stretched himself out on the couch. It felt good to put his legs up. He watched as Mustang left, and then came back with a book in is hands. The house fell quiet, except for the sound of the falling rain, the crackling of the fire, and the muffled voices from the kitchen. Havoc closed his eyes, listening. He was just starting to relax when he felt something wet gently shove into his arm. Startled he opened his eyes to see Hayate staring at him. He let out a breath.

“Alright, pooch, come on up,” he said, patting his belly.

The little dog hopped up onto the couch with him and settled down on top of him. Havoc put a hand on him, lightly petting him for a few moments, and then little dog closed its eyes. Havoc decided to follow suit, hoping that the pains in his legs would die down soon.

It was actually kind of nice like this, with the quiet sounds, and Havoc’s mind drifted while he laid there. It was a lot different than the last time he was here. That time Mustang and Hawkeye had been angry at each other, dangerously so. If a few missteps had been made, he was pretty sure that there would have been irreparable damage done to their relationship. But, after a breakdown from Riza and an attempt at an apology gesture from Roy, they had reconciled, which had made the last two days of the trip more bearable, at least.

The whole trip had left him with lots of questions, though. Hawkeye had grown up here with her father, and with Mustang for a bit. So why were they so formal with each other? Why didn’t they let it be known that they were childhood friends? And then there was the fact that Hawkeye’s father was Mustang’s alchemy teacher. Neither had said anything about flame alchemy. In fact, the one time he had tried to bring it up, Hawkeye had abruptly exited that conversation, and Mustang had been unwilling to go further. But it still begged the question: Where had Mustang learned flame alchemy from and did Riza’s father have anything to do with it?

There were other questions as well. Things that Hawkeye did, or stories she told that made him wonder about the kind of life she had. The way she had spent a lot of her childhood hunting. That she had bathed at the pond on her property quite a bit. The way that she saved everything, even the smallest bits. All of the things in the house that had been sold to help with upkeep and bills. The lack of modern conveniences. The stories that Riza told about places she had slept, or time spent outside, or about the “first thrashing” she had gotten from her father or the anger he would show. All of that ran through the back of his mind as he laid there.

He honestly didn’t know if he should be concerned about protecting her past, or if he should be interested in learning more of it. Either way, Havoc was pretty certain that he was going to end up finding out more about her.

Havoc just hoped that it wasn��t as painful as last time.

The afternoon and night were spent fairly peacefully, with supper being eaten, the kitchen being cleaned, and all of their uniforms being put in the wash tub to soak. Tomorrow would be the day to deal with that more directly. Tonight, they were all tired.

Riza gave them permission to all the rooms on the bottom floor, including the library, much to Falman’s delight. She barred them from the basement, though, and the study on the second floor. It was curious, but no one really questioned it, although Havoc couldn’t help but draw parallels from the last time they were here. They were too tired to bother questioning it, though, and besides, Riza Hawkeye never did anything without a good reason.

Rooming arrangements were discussed. There were, technically, four bedrooms. But it was clear that the idea of someone in her father’s old bedroom was difficult for Riza. So instead, they agreed to share the other three bedrooms. Falman and Fuery took the bedroom that Havoc had been in last time, and Havoc and Breda took the one that had been Roy’s. There was an awkward moment where Hawkeye and Mustang discussed Mustang sleeping in the master bedroom, at least until Breda threw a blanket at them.

“Just go share a bed,” he said. “It’s not like you haven’t shared a tent before on missions. This isn’t different.”

With that it was settled, and they went into Hawkeyes’ old room together.

“Just so you know,” Havoc told Mustang before he went into the room, “the bed squeaks. I heard it the last time I was here.”

Mustang gave him a shove and slammed the door in his face, and Havoc laughed, making his way toward the room he was sharing with Breda to hopefully sleep.

#FMA Big Bang 2021 #fullmetal alchemist Big Bang 2021 #Fullmetal Alchemist #fma #royai #riza hawkeye #Roy Mustang #Heymans Breda #Vato Falman #Kain Fuery #black hayate #fan fiction #fanfic

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aquietwritingcorner · 3 years ago

Text

Embers of Revelation

Author: RealityBreakGirl/aquietwritingcorner Word Count: 692 Rating: T Prompt: FMA Big Bang 2021 Warnings: Child abuse/neglect Characters: Riza Hawkeye, Roy Mustang, Jean Havoc, Heymans Breda, Vato Falman, Kain Fuery, Black Hayate Pairing: Royai Genre: Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Family Chapter: Prologue of 7 Summary: Tasked by Fuhrer Grumman to investigate a suspected alchemic incident, General Mustang’s team finds themselves stranded in Hawkeye’s hometown. Needing a place to stay, they find themselves taking shelter in her childhood home. However, her past can’t stay buried there, and as revelations come to light, they also bring embers of danger with them. Sequel to Embers in a Wounded Heart AO3 || ff.net

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Prologue

Mustang stared down at the unassuming envelop in his hands, standing just inside the shelter the front of Central Command provided from the driving rain. The envelop felt heavy to him, even if all it contained was a set of orders for him and his team, as well as a few sets for varying departments they’d need to consult. Just a few pieces of paper, but they felt like they weighed much more to him as he held them with his aching hands. Was it the endless rain causing his hands to ache, or what these orders entailed?

Ever since the Promised Day, trouble had been popping up in small pockets. An anti-government group here. Rogue alchemists there. Societies determined to get to the truth of what happened within their government. It had been a mess, and Grumman had been keeping Mustang and his team busy with it—especially when it came to dealing with anything to do with alchemy. While Mustang understood the reasoning behind it, it still felt like he was being slowed down.

Mustang needed to get to Eastern Command. He couldn’t get started on what he had set out to do without starting there.

But Grumman had other plans for him, especially as a pattern seemed to be emerging, a pattern indicating a group that was gathering alchemic knowledge, some of it very high level. Mustang’s team was perfect for dealing with that sort of thing. They had the experience, they had the knowledge, and they had the skills.

So why did it feel like something was going to go amiss? Was he just being paranoid because of Riza’s tattoo? Or was this more of a gut feeling warning?

He never liked it when Hawkeye and other alchemists got mixed up together. There was always a risk that they would find out about the tattoo and take advantage of it. Some alchemists had proven themselves trustworthy—the Elrics, Armstrong, Marcoh, the Chang Princess—but with the secrets she carried on her back, anything that had to do with a group of highly suspect alchemists left him and her both on high alert. These cases were worse, because there wasn’t enough evidence to know if they were all connected together or not.

At least the four people who knew how to make a philosopher’s stone were all accounted for.

Mustang looked out at the city from where he stood, not quite yet on the steps that lead down from the building, but standing just under the shelter of the roof. The weather wasn’t even fit for waterfowl anymore. It had been raining for weeks, all across large portions of the country. The eastern and northern parts of the country were getting it the worst, although Central was dealing with it as well. The North had practically frozen over, rural areas were having their roads turned to mud, and in Central there was standing water and overloaded sewers. It was like the entire rain system had stalled out over them and wasn’t moving.

It rather fit his mood, honestly.

He sighed as he tucked the orders inside his coat. Whether he liked them or not, orders were orders. They needed to travel southeast of East City, to a town called Womiob. The safest way to travel at the moment was going to be by rail. He wasn’t about to risk his team on the unstable roads. It would make carrying some of their gear a little more difficult, but it would be the wisest course of action. He’d have Hawkeye make the arrangements. Although, going over the route in his mind, he realized that would take them back through Awrout, which she probably wouldn’t be happy with. But if they were just passing through, it should be fine, right?

With a sigh, Mustang donned his hat and stepped out into the rain. Hawkeye was currently waiting for him in the car, probably wondering why he hadn’t come down the steps yet. He’d explain the situation to her first, in the car, and then to the team when they got back to the office. It would be fine, he was sure.

#FMA Big Bang 2021 #fullmetal alchemist Big Bang 2021 #Fullmetal Alchemist #fma #royai #riza hawkeye #Roy Mustang #Jean Havoc #Heymans Breda #Vato Falman #Kain Fuery #black hayate #fan fiction #fanfic

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aquietwritingcorner · 3 years ago

Text

Embers of Revelation

Author: RealityBreakGirl/aquietlearningcorner Word Count: 8269 Rating: T Prompt: FMA Big Bang 2021 Warnings: Child abuse/neglect Characters: Riza Hawkeye, Roy Mustang, Jean Havoc, Heymans Breda, Vato Falman, Kain Fuery, Black Hayate Pairing: Royai Genre: Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Family Chapter: 6 of 7 Summary: Tasked by Fuhrer Grumman to investigate a suspected alchemic incident, General Mustang’s team finds themselves stranded in Hawkeye’s hometown. Needing a place to stay, they find themselves taking shelter in her childhood home. However, her past can’t stay buried there, and as revelations come to light, they also bring embers of danger with them. Sequel to Embers in a Wounded Heart AO3 || ff.net

__________________________________

Chapter 5

Havoc made his way back downstairs and followed the voices around until he found Mustang in the dining room with the documents that they had laid out. He, Breda, and the sheriff were looking over them.

“Hey boss,” he said. “What’s going on?”

Mustang looked over at him. “How were Hawkeye and Fuery?”

“Alright,” he said. “Both were worried about the other. Fuery feels guilty, and the drug kinda lowered Hawkeye’s walls, so she’s a bit more emotional than usual.”

It was his way of saying that she was worried and scared, and she knew that the team would pick up on it. He was sure that the Sheriff could read between the lines as well, but most people were polite enough not to push when something was clearly being framed in a private way. The sheriff appeared to be one of those people.

“So, what’s going on out back?” Havoc asked, curious about the noise that he was hearing. It was still going on.

“Falman looked through the records in town,” Breda said, “and found evidence that there was a door that led from the outside the basement. No one is exactly sure when it was covered up, but it was. Right now, we’ve got men out there, digging to find it.”

“Why?” Havoc said. “He wasn’t getting through that way, if we have to dig to find it.” If he had been, surely they would have seen some sign of it.”

“If he was using alchemy to cover his tracks, he might have,” Mustang said. “But with the ground as saturated as it’s been, the rain would have washed away any signs of alchemy used on the ground.”

“We also want to know for security’s sake,” Breda said. “Even if he wasn’t getting in that way, if there’s a tunnel, or staircase or some other sort of opening, then we need to know so that we can guard against it.”

“Right,” Havoc said. “That makes sense.” He paused, looking towards the kitchen and the back door. “So, who’s out there?”

“Most of the men that came back with you,” the sheriff said, “and that other fellow of yours. Lieutenant Farman or something.”

“Falman,” Mustang corrected him

“Falman,” the sheriff immediately corrected himself. “Can’t get it to stick in my head for some reason.”

People always seemed to have a hard time remembering Falman, or his accomplishments and Havoc thought it was tragically ironic, considering that the man had that fantastical memory that he did. He was kind of like Sheska, in that, and Havoc had a brief chill thinking about the unholy memory that would be produced if the two of them ever got together and had children.

“I’m about to head out and check on the progress,” Breda said. “You wanna come?” he asked Havoc.

Havoc shrugged. “Might as well. Might pick up a shovel and help.”

“No, you won’t,” Mustang said, and havoc looked back at him, startled.

“Sir?” he said, confused.

Mustang looked at him. “I’ve noticed the way that you’ve been pushing yourself. You’re not moving smoothly now either. You’re not going to be doing any hard labor. You’ve been neglecting taking care of your legs since the day Hawkeye was looked in the basement. Today you’ve pushed them even more. You need to rest them.”

Havoc made a face. “Boss—I’m not sitting around doing nothing while there’s work to be done.”

Breda clapped him on the shoulder. “Oh, no one said that you were sitting around doing nothing. Someone’s got to write up the report since Hawkeye and Fuery are out of commission.”

“Oh. Goody. Great,” Havoc deadpanned, and Breda, Mustang, and the sheriff all grinned at him. Well, at least he could provide the entertainment.

He went with Breda out back, waving at Mrs. Nelson who was, it seemed, cooking up a storm in the kitchen, just like Havoc had thought she was. It looked like she was planning on feeding every single man here, and somehow that didn’t surprise him in the least.

Out back there was a group of men working behind the house. They seemed to be taking turns digging, although there were plenty of shovels around.

“Where’d we find all the shovels?” Havoc asked, not remembering there being that many around her before.

“General transmuted them,” Breda said. “It made it go faster.”

“Yeah, I bet,” Havoc said, looking at all of the work that had been done.

Running along the house there was a trench, dug down about three feet and extending out about two. It ran for maybe four yards at this point, and they were clearly looking for something very specific. The ground was so wet, though, that the piles of dirt were slippery, sloppy mud piles and the walls of the trench held little integrity. The men themselves were covered in mud, nearly from head to toe, and even Falman himself, who looked to be doing more directing then digging, was pretty muddy too.

Havoc was glad that Fuery was laid up in bed at this point. He didn’t need to see trenches like this. Not after his experiences down south. They brought to mind the few stories that Havoc had gotten out of the young man, and even those were sparse. Best for him not to see these, if he could be spared them.

“Any luck?” Breda called out to Falman.

Falman shook his head. “Not yet,” he said. “We know it’s somewhere in this general vicinity, though, from the pictures I found. The house has been remodeled a time or two, so that makes pinpointing it a bit more difficult. Plus, when these things are removed, they tend it bury the place where the door was.”

“Yeh, and the Hawkeyes always were a paranoid bunch,” one of the men said. “The family’s been around these parts since nigh the beginning of the town. But they’ve always been a bit squirrely. There’s stories that stretch back pretty far. Riza’s grandparents here were as well. They didn’t like anyone in their business. And old Berthold, now he was a strange one.” The man glanced at them, “Look, I ain’t saying that I have anything against alchemists. They can be right useful! But there was something off about Berthold, and especially after his wife died of the sickness. Didn’t see a lot of him before that but saw less after.”

“Yeah?” Havoc said, curious, and wondered if this man would give him more information.

The man nodded. “Bout once a month he’d go around and fix things, charge for them, although it didn’t have to be money. Sometimes it was supplies or what have you. You never knew what me might ask. Sometimes he brought his daughter around with him, and sometimes he didn’t. She was a slight, shy thing, never played well with the other kids. Just stood back and watched, like she was scared to or something. Worried about her a bit, but she seemed alright, so we just thought it was more of the Hawkeye strangeness.”

He paused, though, scratching at his neck, before remembering the mud on his hand and pulling a face. “When she came to school, though, she seemed to be alright. Shy, quiet, but alright. Well-mannered, polite, smart. She was socially awkward, but that was understandable, living in this big house with no one but her strange father. Honestly, she only really started to come out of her shell when that Mustang kid came around.” He shrugged. “No one thought he would last, but he did.”

“A city boy in the country. Yeah, that’s usually a recipe for disaster,” Havoc agreed.

The man seemed to take that as encouragement and kept talking. “Oh, there were a few disasters in there,” he said with a grin. “But on the whole, it wasn’t too bad. All the girls were enamored with him, though, and the boys hated him for it. He would start to get a little arrogant, and then Riza’d come along and slap him down, sometimes literally. She’d fuss at him and chew him out about the stupid things he’d do, and he always looked surprised, but he listened and learned. It was honestly the most animated that any of us had ever seen her, and it was refreshing to know she wasn’t completely taken over by her father.”

The man sighed, looking back at the house. “Kinda hoped the two of them would get married one day. They were good for each other. You should have seen how withdrawn she got again when Roy left. A few of us worried about her, but we all knew better then to step into the private affairs of the Hawkeyes. Things never went well for the people that did that. When Roy came back just before Berthold died, we didn’t know how things were going to go. He was a soldier then, and Berthold did not like the military. When Berthold passed, the talk about town was if Roy would marry Riza, or if she would follow him.” He shook his head and sighed. “She followed him, but not in the way that we thought she would.”

“Yeah, I bet,” Havoc said.

“Imagine our shock when we saw the newspapers talking about the Flame Alchemist and The Hawk’s Eyes, and we knew that they were our Roy and Riza.” The man continued. “It was a shock to us, and the talk of the town for months. Even more surprising was when Riza turned up one day, talked to some people about making sure her home was restored a bit and kept up, paid for it, and then left. We had no idea what was going on. She had some strange requirements too,” he said, thinking about it. “We weren’t to look through the study or the basement. She took care of the study, and Roy came a few days later, and took care of the basement. He never returned, but she came back once a year to check on things, and then left. I think she’d write Mrs. Nelson and maybe a couple of others to check on things, just to be sure.”

“Yeah, sounds like the yearly trips she’d make,” Havoc said. “Never knew where she went, though.”

The man shrugged. “Here, it seems.” He looked back at the house again. “You know, even though they never married, it seems those two are still together.”

“Yeah,” Havoc agreed. “Boss and Hawk are pretty inseparable. They always manage to find their way back to each other. And,” he grinned, looking at the man, “she still gets onto him and fusses at him.”

The man chortled and rocked on his heels. “Some things never change, do they? Maybe one day the two of them will just go ahead and get married.”

“Maybe so,” Havoc said, and he knew that he wouldn’t object, although he wasn’t counting on it anyway. Not until everything was done and Mustang’s plans were complete. The only thing those two were more dedicated to then each other, was the plan.

Havoc watched for a few more minutes before looking over at Falman. “So, what are you going to do if you don’t find—”

He was cut off by the shout of a man who was digging. “Hey! Hey, I think we found it!”

Falman gave Havoc a look that seemed to say, “you doubted me?” and all three of them headed over to where the men were digging. There were the remnants of a structure there, capped and sealed off. It looked like it could have been part of a chute or an escape at some point, and the men were trying their best to clear the soggy ground away from it so that they could get to it easier. That, of course, wasn’t easy, considering the soggy ground around them, but they were still trying.

“General!” Breda called, his voice bellowing like only he could. “We’ve found something!”

Within just a few moments, Mustang was outside, and so was the sheriff, both of them heading straight towards the area that the men were gathered around. It only took them a second to realize the trouble that the men were having with the ground, and only one word from Mustang to clear them away.

“Move,” he said, and all of the men scrambled back.

Mustang clapped and put his hands on the ground, the familiar blue light crackling up. Or, well, listening to the murmurs of the men who were watching, it might only be familiar to Havoc, Breda and Falman, Havoc decided. Maybe he was just so used to alchemy and seeing it that he forgot just how amazing it could be.

Mustang raised up part of the ground in thick walls, to prevent the slop of mud from running down in it, and, at the same time, drew the moisture out of the ground around it. Havoc could feel the ground under his feet become a little firmer, but he heard others suddenly notice that the ground around them was soggier. They were standing further back, so he guessed that Mustang had simply moved the water away.

“Alright. That won’t hold forever,” Mustang said. “The ground is too saturated for that. But it will hold for now.”

The opening was clearly sealed up, and that was another problem that they were going to have to deal with. Havoc heard talk of tools and the like, but he just smirked, knowing wait was coming next. Mustang clapped again, and put his hands on the seal, transforming it into a door. Breda climbed down into the area Mustang had made, and together they pulled each side open. It was dark down there, and Mustang pulled on a glove, snapping and sending a small line of fire down it. Stairs were still there, rickety though they seemed.

“Falman. Stay here and guard the entrance,” Mustang said.

“Yes, sir,” Falman replied, looking as if he really didn’t want to go down there anyway.

Havoc climbed down to join them, And Mustang turned to look at him, clearly about to tell him to stay behind too. “I’m coming, boss,” he said. “I need to see this through.”

Mustang looked at him, and then nodded. “Alright. Then let’s go.”

“I’m coming as well,” the sheriff said.

“So am I,” Thompson said.

“No.” Mustang’s voice was sharp. “This is the captain’s private life. We know about it, but I am not going to expose her life to people she hasn’t given permission to.”

“This is part of an investigation that’s happened here, where I am,” the sheriff said. “This is my jurisdiction. I need to be part of this.”

There was a clear tension building between Mustang and the Sheriff, and it was all fueled by Mustang’s protectiveness over Hawkeye. Mustang, though, was not a stupid man. He understood how to weigh things and seemed to come to some of decision.

“We’re going to go down first,” he said. “Let us look around, make sure that there’s nothing sensitive, either both personally for the captain, or militarily, and then, once we’ve made a clean sweep, then we’ll call you down.” The sheriff looked like he was going to protest, but Mustang cut him off. “We don’t know what we’re going to find down there, but we do know that it involves the military. With my alchemy I’m better equipped to handle any potential problems, and I know my men and what they’re capable of. It will be easier for us to handle any potential problems. We know how to work with each other.”

The sheriff was silent for a moment, and then he nodded. “Alright,” he said. “But if you’re not back soon, we’re coming down.”

Mustang nodded, and they headed down the dark, damp stairs. There was no light down there, but apparently Falman had thought ahead, and gave Breda a lantern before they headed down. The stairs were steep and old and creaky. They carefully made their way down them, Havoc just hoping that they wouldn’t collapse under them. The stairs led into an open area that obviously had once been part of the basement but had been blocked off at some point in time, although Havoc couldn’t see a reason why.

“How did I miss this?” Mustang murmured to himself.

“Depends on how thick the walls are,” Breda said, going over to it with the light.

Mustang followed him over and beckoned for him to shine his light in a particular place. “Here,” he said. “Signs of alchemy. This was how he was getting in and out of the house. This was how he locked Hawkeye in the basement and escaped.”

“But how did he get down here?” Havoc said. “It wasn’t the way that we came in.”

“No, it wasn’t,” Mustang said, and turned to look around and see what else he could see down there.

Breda swung his lantern around too, trying to see what else there was down there. It carefully roamed the walls, until Mustang called for it to come to a stop.

“There,” he said. “Right there. I want a closer look.” They walked over, and Mustang knelt to examine the wall. “there’s alchemy here too. There must be a wall here with something behind it.”

“Want me to get the sheriff?” Havoc asked, this seeming like something that it might be a good idea to have the man in on.

“Yes,” Mustang said. “Bring them down.”

Havoc went back over to the bottom of the stairs and called up. “Hey! You two come on down. We found how Johnson was entering!”

It was only a couple of moments later that the Sheriff and Thompson were coming down the stairs and joining them in this closed off section of the basement.

“Where?” the sheriff asked.

Mustang gestured towards the wall. “Over there. He’s been transmuting himself a way into the basement. But I think that he also transmuted his way in here too. This wall shows signs of alchemy. I’m going to see what’s behind it.”

The sheriff nodded, and they all stood back as Mustang clapped and put his hands on the wall. The wall itself fell away, revealing a tunnel behind it. The sheriff and Thompson looked at each other, but Mustang was staring at the tunnel, resolute. Breda and Havoc followed suit. They were going to figure this out.

“Let’s go,” Mustang said, all business, his voice holding all of his command.

He started forward, Breda and Havoc right behind him, the sheriff and Thompson following behind after a moment. The tunnel was earthen, and sodden. It looked like it might collapse at any moment, but Mustang walked on, not deterred in the least. It was winding, and every so often there was a plank of wood with a transmutation circle carved into it. Mustang activated them as they went, and it became obvious that these were for structural integrity, which really was ingenious when you got down to it. It still didn’t take away Havoc’s unease at being underground in a sodden earthen tunnel after the area has been completely saturated with rain and the water table had to be higher than normal, but it was at least something to try to help.

The tunnel went on for a long way, completely dark and only with room for them to walk single file. Eventually, after what felt like forever, but probably wasn’t as long as he thought it was thanks to the dark, the tunnel started to slope upwards. It was a relief to Havoc, and Breda’s shoulders seemed to relax fractionally as well. This tunnel was claustrophobic, and Havoc would be glad to get out here.

“Any idea where we are?” Mustang called out, breaking the silence. “I’m completely lost.”

“Well, if I’m right, we’re still on the Hawkeye property, but nearing the edges of it,” the Sheriff said. “I think we’re heading towards Johnson’s house.”

“Really?” Mustang said. “Now that’s interesting.”

“I wonder how deep this tunnel is,” Thompson said. “How many properties could we pass under and the people up top have no idea?”

“Theoretically, you could have a whole maze of tunnels under the town, if they were properly structured,” Mustang said.

“A whole other society, huh?” Havoc said. “Not a bad idea.”

“It’s like the Ishvalans that were living in the sewers,” Breda said. “Living down there and making their own lives separate from those above, for the most part.”

“Never would have thought of that,” Thompson said.

“It isn’t something I think you’d have to worry about too much,” Mustang said. “The sewers were already structured, so they didn’t have to worry about keeping up anything. But for something like this you’d need either alchemists or engineers to make sure that the integrity is maintained. That’s not a skill that you’re going to find to be very common.”

Mustang frowned as he came across another one of the carved transmutation circles. “It will be interesting to see if Johnson is smart enough to have figured out how to do this on his own.”

“You think he didn’t?” Breda said.

“I don’t know yet,” Mustang said, “but it feels familiar, like alchemy I’ve seen somewhere else before.”

“What do you mean?” the sheriff asked.

“All alchemy tends to carry with it a personal touch,” Mustang said, “especially if it’s unusual or new alchemy. Even if you trace back the most basic of alchemy as far as we can, you can see that there’s a certain pattern to it. Think of it like how engineers can tell another engineer’s work by the way it’s constructed or put together. Alchemy circles are basically elaborate calculations. You can tell who developed something if you’re familiar enough with the person’s work.”

“Huh,” Thompson said. “Never knew that.”

Mustang shook his head. “It’s’ not something that most people would notice. Even amateur alchemists often don’t see it. It’s really only noticed when you get into the high-level research and development of circles.”

“And these seem familiar to you,” Breda said, pulling them back on topic.

“Yeah, but I can’t put my finger on it,” he said. “I need to get a better look at them and do some research.”

By this time, the floor was sloping up more and if felt like they were coming to an end. In fact, as they rounded a corner, they came to what appeared to be a dead end.

“What?” Thompson said. “Don’t tell me that—”

“Don’t worry,” Mustang said, clapping his hands together and placed his hands on the wall in front of them. It parted, opening up into another dark, empty space. But this was a structured place, and a staircase was clearly seen. This was, obviously, a basement, and the exited out into it

They all looked around for a moment, Mustang frowning a bit as he did.

“What is all this stuff?” Thompson asked.

“It looks like supplies to me,” the sheriff said. “And I get the feeling they’re not for anything good.”

“They’re alchemic supplies,” Mustang said. “And in an unusual quantity.”

“Just what have we stumbled into?” Havoc asked.

“More then we bargained for, but maybe exactly what we needed,” Mustang said with a confident smirk. “Let’s keep going.”

They headed towards the door of the basement, up the stairs and out of it, to emerge in a house. The house wasn’t well cared for, and definitely not clean, but Thompson and the sheriff seemed to recognize it.

“This is the old Steadman place that Johnson bought,” Thompson said.

“I thought so,” the sheriff said. “This proves quite a lot.”

“And opens up a lot of questions,” Breda said, looking around.

There were footsteps from outside, and then, suddenly there was a man in the doorway with a gun.

“Hold, Carey!” the sheriff called out, and the man lowered his gun.

“Sheriff?” he said, confused. “Thompson? Roy Mustang?”

“Yeah, it’s us,” the sheriff said. He hitched a thumb back towards the basement door. “Found a tunnel. Followed it all the way here.”

“A tunnel?” Carey said.

“Yeah. Make sure no one gets in here, alright?” the sheriff said,

“Yessir,” Carey said.

They poked around the house a little more after that, and then headed back, with just a few things that Mustang and Breda wanted to give a look over. But the day was drawing to a close. They needed to get back to the house, and the other men needed to get back to theirs.

The walk didn’t take terribly long, although Havoc’s legs were hurting him quite a bit by this point. He was definitely going to be in a lot of pain tonight when he finally stopped moving, which was incentive to keep moving. Of course, if he kept moving, he’d also end up hurting a lot, so it was a lose-lose situation all the way around.

By the time they got back to the house, Havoc was nearly hobbling, and Breda had fallen back to walk beside him, just in case. Many of the men had already left, leaving just a few that were there keeping an eye on the place. The Doctor had the wagon prepared and looked relieved to see them.

“General Mustang!” he called. “Good. If you hadn’t of shown up, I was just going to take your man on with me anyway.”

“Apologies, Doctor,” Mustang said. “We were following up on an unexpected lead.”

“Well, I’ve got a couple of the men ready to bring down the young man of yours. We’re going to load him up and…”

Havoc stopped listening to the doctor’s words, focusing instead on getting himself inside. His legs were aching fiercely now, and Breda, concerned, had decided to pull Havoc’s arm around his shoulders. Havoc didn’t mind. He really needed to sit down. His legs had had it, and there really was no choice. He was going to have to take one of those pills tonight.

Grimacing in pain, he let Breda lead him inside, all but collapsing at the small bench that was just inside the door.

“You really did a number on yourself,” Breda said.

“Yeah, yeah,” Havoc replied. “Just help me get to the mud room. Gotta get all this stuff off.”

“Nuh-uh,” Breda said. “We’re gonna get you upstairs and to the bath. You can get cleaned up, up there, and go straight to bed after that. And you are taking one of your little pills tonight. I’ll take care of any of the mud you leave behind or any of the mess you make.”

Havoc wanted to object, but really there was no fight left in him for this. He was in pain, and he was filthy and the last thing he wanted to do was clean. Breda got an arm under him again, and helped him stand up, Havoc letting out a hiss of pain as he did. They went towards the stairs, and then very slowly made their way up them. It was hard, but Havoc dug in deep and managed. Breda all but dumped him in the bathroom, telling him to strip, started the water, and then left. When he came back it was with clean clothes and a towel for him, and a bottle of some kind.

He dropped some of it in the bathwater, and watched it for a second before turning away, seemingly satisfied.

“What was that?” Havoc asked him.

“I was gonna give it to you later, but you’ve put yourself in this much pain I thought I’d go ahead. Remember that oil you got on that trip to Ishval? The one that helped you so much? I managed to get my hands on another form of it. You’re not supposed to rub this in directly, but soak in it, and it should help. Seems like a good time to try it out.” Breda explained.

“I’ll take it,” Havoc said.

Breda helped Havoc up and into the tub, and Havoc let out a hiss followed by a sigh of relief as the warm water and the oil hit his legs and back. It wasn’t an immediate relief, but it did help. Breda gathered up Havoc’s muddy things, then, and stood up. “I’ll be back later to get to this floor. If you need anything, just yell.”

“Yeah. Thanks, Breda.”

Breda waved off his thanks and left, and Havoc relaxed back into the tub. He tilted his head back and listened. He could hear other people moving around the house. The nurse seemed to be checking on Hawkeye, and then there was movement down near Fuery’s room, too. He heard walking and voices and worked out that they were taking Fuery out to get him to the doctor’s office. Havoc had wanted to say something to him before he left, but too late now. He’d just have to give him a call later or maybe go see him, once he felt up to walking that distance again.

Breda came back in at one point, still muddy himself, but less so, and took care of the floor as promised. He said that someone had finished connecting the phone, and that it was in working order. The sheriff had guards stationed around the house and the shack that Johnson had stayed at. He also had some men stationed around the house, just in case. With half his men down, Mustang had thanked the sheriff who said for him not to worry about it, that they looked after their own. Breda also said that the Nelsons were sticking around, at least until everyone was settled for the night. Mrs. Nelson was cooking up a storm, and she was keeping things clean too. Mr. Nelson had taken care of the horses and had helped with a lot of the logistics of things, such as building something around the outside entrance to the basement so that it wouldn’t get mud around it again and filling back up where they had dug. Fuery had been taken on to the doctor’s office, and Hawkeye was sleeping again, the stuff that Johnson had used apparently knocking her for a loop. Havoc appreciated the update, and thanked his friend before he left again, to take of whatever else there was do.

Eventually, Havoc was ready to get out of the tub, and he managed to pull himself up and out of it fairly well. He still had a good strength in his arms and was well versed in relying on them more than his legs. Shifting the burden to them and giving his legs a rest wasn’t too much of a switch. He dressed himself, but Mr. Nelson appeared to help him to the room, the rest of them being far too muddy. He settled into the bed, Mrs. Nelson coming up not long afterward with some food for him and handing him his bottle of pills. Havoc ate, took one, and then laid down to sleep as best he could. His legs were still screaming at him, but he didn’t want to take another pill.

He heard the others getting showers, the bathroom and other floors getting cleaned, and Mustang checking on Hawkeye as he drifted. Breda came in at one point, and made Havoc take something else that helped him get to sleep better. As Havoc drifted off, his last thought was that he sure wanted to get back home soon.

By the time Havoc woke the next day, the sun was already well up. He groaned as he woke up, groggy from the medicine he had taken, and grimaced as he felt the pain in his legs. That wasn’t a good sign, although there wasn’t much he could do about it at this point. Slowly and carefully, he rolled out of bed and dressed himself before carefully making his way to the bathroom and then downstairs.

Hawkeye was at the kitchen table when he got there, also looking groggy and nursing a cup of coffee. Falman was at the stove, cooking. Hawkeye gave Havoc a smile as he came in, and as she turned her head towards him, he let out a bit of an exclamation at her face.

One side of it was covered in deep blues and purples and looked like it hurt. There were a couple of cuts near her eyes. Her hair looked like she had maybe run her fingers through it, and she was wearing what appeared to be one of Mustang’s shirts instead of her usual tightly fitting ones.

“Geeze, Riza, good morning I guess,” he said.

She gave him a tired smile. “It’s practically afternoon,” she said, “but yes, good morning.”

“How are you feeling?” Havoc asked her as he sat down. Falman put a cup of coffee in front of him, and he nodded his thanks to the other man.

“Hungover and sore,” was her answer. “I have no idea what he used on me, but the effects of it linger.” She looked at him. “How are you feeling? I was told your legs were in a lot of pain last night.”

“Still are,” Havoc said, “although nowhere near as bad. I don’t plan on running anywhere anytime soon, though.”

“No, I wouldn’t think so,” Hawkeye said. She paused. “Thank you, Jean, for all that you did yesterday.”

Havoc waved it off and swallowed the sip of coffee he was taking. “No, don’t worry about it. It’s just what we do.”

Riza merely smiled back at him, tiredness still in her eyes.

“So, where’s Mustang and Breda? And any word on Fuery?” Havoc asked.

“The general called this morning to check on Fuery,” Falman said. “He’s doing fine, nothing wrong with his spine. He just pulled a few things in his back, but that, his ribs, his arm, and his head should heal up fine with time.”

He walked over to them with a pan and slid some eggs onto their plates before returning to the stove to tend to another pan. “The Sheriff called this morning as well. Breda and Mustang took off after that. I’m not entirely sure why, but I think something may have happened or been discovered at Johnson’s house or shack. They headed out to investigate.”

Falman returned to them, sliding some sort of hash browns onto their plates, before returning, again, to the stove. “They told me to stay here and keep an eye on things. I’ve had the basement door locked, just in case, and Hayate patrolling the house. Nothing has happened, except for the men who kept an eye on the property last night asking me for some coffee, and Mrs. Nelson calling and saying that she’s going to bring some more food by, as well as our clothes.”

He brought over another pan and pulled them out some bacon. “She bundled up all our dirty clothes last night and took them with her, insistent on cleaning them.”

Hawkeye smiled. “That sounds like Mrs. Nelson,” she said. “She was always doing things for others.”

The three of them ate quietly together, Hayate making an appearance for food one time, but otherwise not begging off of them like he liked to do. It was clear that he was focused on his job of patrolling the house. It was a couple of hours later when they heard a sharp bark from him, and a skittering of his feet on the floor. Falman was the first one up, a hand on his gun, just in case. Hayate didn’t seem to be alarmed, though, which was a good sign. But after everything that had happened, no one could really blame them for not being cautions. Hawkeye, too, had her gun out and ready to go, making her way to the entranceway living room, just in case. Havoc stayed seated on the couch, his gun half hidden. Sitting or standing it make no difference to him. He had gotten to be a good shot either way.

It turned out, though, to just be Breda, who stomped his boots on the stoop, opened the door, and slammed it behind him. He looked at his welcoming committee for a moment, and then carried on as all of them lowered their guns. After all, he had to have expected this as well. All of them were a bit paranoid normally. Now it was in overdrive.

“You’re back sooner than I expected,” Falman said. “I thought you would have been gone longer than that to look over all of the information found in Johnson’s house and shack.”

“Johnson’s dead,” Breda said bluntly as he stepped into the living room. That sentence immediately had all of their attention.

“What?” Havoc said, clearly startled. How could Johnson be dead? He had seen him delivered to the prison himself, seen the deputy take custody of him, seen the first aid done on the shoulder where Havoc shot him. “He couldn’t have bled out!”

“No,” Breda said. “He didn’t. When the sheriff went in this morning, he found the guard there, also dead, his throat slit. Johnson had been murdered in a similar manner.”

“Who was the guard?” Hawkeye asked.

“Robert Harper,” Breda said. “Sheriff says he’s got a family. Young. He wasn’t looking forward to breaking this to them.”

“Oh, no,” Hawkeye said.

“that’s not all,” Breda said. “A man named Brandon Pruett was guarding the shack. He was also found dead this morning, throat slit, not far from the ashes that was all that was left of the cabin. It was burned to the ground.”

They all exchanged looks at that. This wasn’t a one-time thing; this was definitely someone covering up something.

Breda wasn’t finished. “The two men guarding his house last night, John Yuerisk and Adam Presson were also murdered with the same MO. The house there was burned to the ground too, but it looked as if the basement had been cleaned out first.”

“What about the tunnel that led from his house to this one?” Falman asked.

“Collapsed,” Breda said. “It looks like it was done on purpose too. Mustang is going back through it, reconstructing it and looking for the plates that held those transmutation circles. He told me to meet him back here.”

Havoc ran a hand through his hair. “Oh, man, what a mess.”

Breda nodded. “The sheriff has asked for our help with this. With all of the stranded passengers, the pool of who could have done it is pretty wide. It’s too much for him to handle alone, especially with the deaths of those four men.” He looked at Falman. “You worked in Investigations for a while and worked with Hughes. Mustang wants you down there helping.”

“Of course,” Falman said, and left immediately to go get his uniform jacket and whatever else he needed.

“What about us?” Hawkeye said. “We can help out too.”

Breda held his hands up. “That you need to take up with the general. Personally, I think it might be a good thing if we all went, but Falman can at least get things started.” He hooked a thumb over his shoulder, back towards the front. “I did borrow a small cart and horse, just so you two wouldn’t have to walk the whole way if you can convince the general to let you go. I also brought back the laundry that Mrs. Nelson took with her, and some food she sent along.”

“Bring it in,” Hawkeye said. She looked over at Havoc, her gaze determined even with her bruised face. “Think you’re good for it?”

Havoc grinned at her. “Oh yeah, I can help out with this,” he said. “Better than sitting around uselessly.”

“Good,” Hawkeye said. “Then we’ll be ready to go as soon as the General gets here.”

It was clear that, whether Mustang was in favor of this or not, Hawkeye planned on being involved, and there was really no arguing with her on that. Breda went to unload the cart and eat something, and Havoc and Hawkeye went upstairs to change. They ran into Falman on the way down, who they admonished to be careful on his way to town. Hawkeye called for him to wait, and then followed him down the stairs, calling Hayate over to her. Havoc could hear her instructing the little dog to go with Falman and guard him, and then the two were sent on their way.

“I don’t think it’s a good idea for anyone to go alone,” Havoc heard her explain to Breda. “If none of us are going with him, then Hayate is a good choice.”

“Yeah, makes sense,” Breda said.

Breda hauled the laundry upstairs where they went through it, claiming all of their uniform pieces. Havoc had a bit of confusion between his pants and Falman’s, but Falman was thinner than he was, so that was quickly figured out. By the time they were dressed and ready, there was an odd sound from the basement. Breda made his way down to the basement while Hawkeye took up a position looking out back, towards the entrance they had found. Havoc stayed in between, ready to give assistance as needed.

Suddenly Hawkeye called out “All clear!” and lowered her gun. “it’s just the General.”

Sure enough, about the time Breda got to the top of the basement stairs, the backdoor opened to admit a very filthy General Mustang. He was covered in dirt and mud, and honestly, it made sense. Those tunnels had been made of dirt and the like. Of course, he would get filthy reconstructing them.

“Any luck?” Breda said, as Mustang headed straight for the washroom.

Mustang tossed something to Breda before he moved into the washroom fully. “Not really. I found part of one of the plaques, if you can call it anything useful.” He started to strip down in the washroom, clearly not wanting to get mud everywhere. “Other than that, nothing useful at all. I made sure to collapse the tunnel back again. I don’t want anyone else using it. But I will say this,” he came out, a towel wrapped around him, “that tunnel was definitely collapsed with alchemy.”

He started to head for the stairs, and then paused, looking at Hawkeye and Havoc. “Why are you two in full uniform?”

“Because we’re going to help with the investigation,” Hawkeye said.

Mustang frowned. “No. Absolutely not.”

“And why not?” Hawkeye demanded.

“I won’t have the two of you exhausting yourselves like that.” Mustang said.

“It won’t exhaust us,” Hawkeye said.

“I said no,” Mustang said and started walking out and towards the stairs. “I’m going to shower, and then Breda and I are going to help with the investigation.” He left, leaving the three of them in the kitchen, his steps echoing on the stairs.

Hawkeye stood there for a moment, then her eyes hardened, and she strode after him, purposeful in her walk.

Breda and Havoc stayed put and stayed quiet for a moment.

“How much you wanna bet she just walks in on him?” Havoc asked.

There was the sudden noise of a door being flung open, a strangled shout of “Hawkeye, what the--!” before the last word was lost in the slamming of the door.

“Why would I bet on a sure thing?” Breda said.

Havoc shrugged. “What some food?”

“Sure.”

By the time that Mustang and Hawkeye came back down the stairs, Mustang was a bit grumpy but not arguing the point anymore, Hawkeye apparently presenting her case to him well. They ate, and then all four of them headed out, Havoc and Hawkeye riding in the back of the cart that Breda had borrowed. It wasn’t a long ride into town, but once there it was clear to see that people weren’t happy and that things were tense.

“Looks like we’ve got our work cut out for us,” Breda said.

“Yeah, we do, but we’re going to do it.” Mustang replied.

Although they weren’t much of a military presence, having all of them there did help to bring order to the chaos. Falman already had a system going, and so they jumped in and helped to smooth it along. Falman handled a majority of the interviews, recording names, statements, and various other details. Havoc had never really had the chance to see this side of Falman in play before, not like this, and it was fascinating to watch him. He understood, now, why he had been such an asset to Investigations and why General Armstrong was trying her best to get him back to Briggs.

Breda, likewise, was also an asset. He helped to look over the statements that they were given, organizing and classifying them. He had piles and piles of them, but he also had a system going. Havoc had a feeling that he and Falman were going to be working late into the night on this, like a giant puzzle that they needed to put together and figure out. Havoc was mostly on organizing duty, although he had his own ways to soften people up before they went into be questioned. Mustang oversaw the whole operation, Hawkeye a step behind him, like she always was, or going somewhere with the authority of his orders.

There were a few other soldiers that had been on the train, as well as a few that were former soldiers, and they were quickly drafted into helping with crowd control, after they had passed through their own questionings. The sheriff and his men were working with Breda on classifying a lot of the information and making some follow up questions that they needed to tend to later.

All in all, it was several hours work that stretched into the night for all of them. No one was happy with that, from the people who were helping, to the people who were being questioned, to the townspeople. It didn’t help that there were more than a few people in town who were in mourning. With four men dead, murdered, no one could blame them for that. It was probably the biggest tragedy this town had seen in a very long time, if at all.

Havoc could sense that some of the townspeople blamed them, and he could understand why. The military was often at the center of trouble, and Mustang and anyone associated with him definitely tended towards that. It was just the way it was. But others, although unhappy, seemed to recognize that it wasn’t their fault, even though they were involved.

All in all, it made for a very difficult and long day, one that had all of them tired and dead on their feet by the end of it. They ended up borrowing the cart again to head back home, something that turned out to be a good thing, as the doctor sent Fuery back with them, saying that he still needed to be careful, but that he would be fine overall.

The days after that moved quickly. Mustang made call after call out to Eastern Headquarters and to Central. There was a lot to report on, after all, and it took a bit of finagling to make it work so that Hawkeye’s secret wasn’t exposed. It was written off, it seemed, as if Johnson was under the impression that she knew more about Mustang’s alchemy then she did, and that he could get it from her. With Johnson dead, well, he couldn’t refute it. Of course, anyone in the know knew differently, but there were precious few of them—that they knew of.

Hawkeye grew increasingly tense over the days. None of them knew if Johnson had managed to give knowledge of her tattoo to anyone or not. There was no way to tell if other people knew about it or not. All that could be known was that Johnson knew. It was understandable that she was high strung about it. Mustang was too, and that put the rest of the men on edge. Add to that, that it was still a mystery how those supplies in Johnson’s basement got moved with no one able to travel, and it was a true mystery, and a chilling one at that.

It was at least a week later before the military was able to get anyone into the town. It was another week before the rail lines started running again. The rains had caused massive damage over every region they had been hanging above, and crews were hard at work trying to repair things. The team did, though, eventually go on to their original destination, but by the time they had gotten there, the trail had grown cold. Without anything else that they could do, the team returned to Central. They were truly grateful to be back home.

But Havoc couldn’t shake the feeling that things weren’t over yet. So much had happened, and so much was still hanging in the balance and left unknown. There was no way that this was permanently over. Something else had to happen. It didn’t make sense otherwise. There were too many loose ends for his liking, and if there were too many for him, then there were definitely too many for Mustang.

Havoc thought about it, as he sat in his apartment, looking out the window at the night, and flicked his toothpick away. Yep. Something was definitely coming. The question was, what and when?

And, what to do in the meantime?

His hand reached out for the phone, and he rattled off an address to the operator. “Hey—Rebecca? Wanna go out tomorrow night?”

#FMA Big Bang 2021 #fullmetal alchemist Big Bang 2021 #Fullmetal Alchemist #fma #royai #riza hawkeye #Roy Mustang #Jean Havoc #Heymans Breda #Vato Falman #Kain Fuery #black hayate

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aquietwritingcorner · 3 years ago

Text

Embers of Revelation

Author: RealityBreakGirl/aquietlearningcorner Word Count: 11883 Rating: T Prompt: FMA Big Bang 2021 Warnings: Child abuse/neglect Characters: Riza Hawkeye, Roy Mustang, Jean Havoc, Heymans Breda, Vato Falman, Kain Fuery, Black Hayate Pairing: Royai Genre: Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Family Chapter: 4 of 7 Summary: Tasked by Fuhrer Grumman to investigate a suspected alchemic incident, General Mustang’s team finds themselves stranded in Hawkeye’s hometown. Needing a place to stay, they find themselves taking shelter in her childhood home. However, her past can’t stay buried there, and as revelations come to light, they also bring embers of danger with them. Sequel to Embers in a Wounded Heart AO3 || ff.net

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Chapter 4

The next few days continued in a similar vein, with steady rain, but with no lightning storms. Just buckets of rain falling each day. How this was happening and how the storms hadn’t rained themselves out yet, no one really knew. It just rained constantly, and everything was getting flooded and soggy.

Everyone stuck pretty close around the house and to each other until, once again, they were running low on supplies. A trip to town would have to be made, pulling the cart and walking in the rain and mud. No one really wanted to do it, and so they had stretched their supplies to nearly their limit, before even Hawkeye said that there wasn’t going to be much else, she could do with the food they had. Reluctantly, they had made plans to go into town to check on things and replenish their supplies.

Mustang was going to go, of course, because he needed to make some phone calls into Headquarters to report in, and see just what was going on, Havoc was sure. Falman was, as expected, anxious to see if there were any archives in town where he might find more information on Hawkeye’s house. He was certain that there had to be an entrance somewhere, he just had to find it. To no one’s surprise, Breda was going because he said he was going stir crazy being locked up in the house all of the time, and getting out, even if it meant getting wet and muddy all over again, was preferable to staying put when the opportunity to go presented itself. Havoc hoped he still felt that way when he was busy demucking his boots.

The rain had actually slowed down a little bit, and Fuery felt safe enough with that and the lack of thunder and lightning for the past few days, to work on connecting the phone line. He thought about going with everyone else, but this seemed like a better use of his time, and Havoc found he couldn’t argue with that. Havoc’s legs were still hurting him, and he honestly didn’t want to walk all the way into town at the moment, so he volunteered to stay behind with Fuery. Hawkeye frowned at that and decided that it would be a good idea if she stayed behind, if Fuery was going to be up on the roof working, and Havoc was going to be in the house. She could keep an eye on both of them and help out if needed.

The plan was agreed upon, even if Havoc could see that Mustang didn’t exactly look thrilled with leaving Hawkeye behind. After last time, everyone wanted to be more careful, something that everyone could agree with. They had all stayed armed since that day, Havoc making sure he had a backup gun on him too. Hawkeye was, of course, armed the most out of all of them, to no one’s surprise. They were about as safe as they could be. Still, Havoc kept watch on Hawkeye, especially after the other left.

Hawkeye and Fuery got straight to work, Hawkeye showing Fuery the best route to get to the roof and told him of the sturdiest trees if he needed them. Wanting to make himself useful. Havoc went to work in the laundry room, taking care of the clothes that were in there, figuring even if his legs were hurting him, he could still do something. He could hear Hawkeye working on cleaning, apparently still having standards for this old place, although he had no idea why.

For a few hours everything seemed to go well. They all worked on their own thing, Hawkeye going out every so often to check on Fuery. The rain seemed a little lighter than it had been, giving them, all hope that it would ease up soon. Havoc wasn’t sure if the sun he saw was real, or wishful thinking, but he definitely wanted things to dry out so repairs could be made, and they could get out of here.

It was fairly quiet, the light rain pattering, and the radio playing softly when suddenly Havoc heard what sounded like a cry and then the sound of something crashing down. His eyes widened and he rushed out of the laundry room, Hawkeye just a little bit ahead of him. They both bolted out of the door and looked around, until Hawkeye cried out “Fuery!” and started at a dead run, Havoc hot on her heels.

Fuery was laying on the ground, not moving, an arm clearly not laying right. They rushed up to him, Havoc’s heart clenching as he feared the worst. Riza knelt by him, headless of the muddy ground and felt for a pulse.

“He’s alive,” she said, “and he’s breathing. That arm is definitely broken.”

Havoc looked up. The tree above them had a few broken branches and he could see rips from Fuery’s clothes on them. “Looks like he tried to catch himself, or at least slow his fall.”

“It probably saved his life,” she said. “that’s not a small fall.” She was running her hands over him, checking him over. “I don’t think there’s any damage, but we still need to be careful. We need to get him inside out of this rain.”

“Alright,” Havoc said. “Where to?”

“The couch. It’s the closest and I don’t want to risk stairs,” Hawkeye said. “We need to do our best to make sure that his neck and back stay straight. The ironing board. Go get it.”

“Right,” Havoc said, and took of inside after it, returning only moments later with the stiff board in tow.

Following Hawkeye’s directions, they worked together to roll Fuery into the board and get him inside the house and to the couch. The man didn’t stir while they moved him, which was more than a little worrying to Havoc. He headed after the first aid supplies, Hawkeye telling him exactly where they were. Of all the people on the team, she had the best medical skills, and he stood ready to assist. She checked Fuery’s eyes, kept a watch on his pulse, and splinted his arm as best she could. But it was clear to Havoc that she was still worried about him.

“He needs the doctor, but we don’t need to move him.” She looked up at Havoc. “You need to go to town, get the doctor, and get the others.”

“Will you be alright?” he asked, skipping past the part where he protested leaving her alone and she reassured him that she would be alright, and he mentioned that Mustang wouldn’t like it, and she countered with Fuery’s life being on the line. They all knew where that argument would end, and there was no reason to even start it. It was better to just move on to the practical.

“I’m armed,” she said. “I have at least three guns on me at all times, you know that. You’re the fastest of us, and I have the most medical experience. Take Hayate with you as extra protection and go—we have no way of knowing if Fuery has any internal injuries.”

“Right,” Havoc said, serious. He reached to make sure he was armed, called the little dog with him, and headed off like a shot for town.

Havoc had always been the fastest on the team. His long legs helped him out a great deal, and he could take long, lopping strides. He was good at sprints, and he was good at long distance. That had, of course, changed, when Lust had stabbed him through the spine, but ever since regaining the use of his legs, he had been working on building it back again. He had gotten quite a bit better. He wasn’t sure if he could beat Hawkeye right now or not, but what he did know was that she was the best bet to be with Fuery if something went wrong.

So, Havoc ran, headless of the mud, Hayate at his side and his gun in his hand, towards town and the doctor.

He had no idea what the others had found in town, or what he had just left his teammates too.

A soldier running into town, mud all up his uniform, with a dog at his side was sure to gain a few looks, especially when he was clearly heading somewhere with a purpose, but Havoc paid the townspeople no mind. He remembered where the clinic he had seen was, and headed towards it, passing my old Mr. Nelson who tried to wave him down. He ignored him, instead heading straight for the clinic and pretty much bursting in the door. There were a man and a woman in there who looked up at him in surprise. Havoc leaned heavily on the door, soaking wet, muddy, and with an equally wet and even muddier dog by his side.

“Need… your help, Doc…” he said, gasping for breath. He really needed to lay off the cigarettes more. “Man fell… from roof. Unconscious…. The Hawkeye place…”

The doctor wasted no time in grabbing his coat and hat, taking his bag, and telling the nurse to bring the wagon after him, just in case. He was clearly taking his horse, and he wasn’t going to wait on anyone, which was fine by Havoc.

“You can ride back with me,” the nurse said. “We’ll get there quickly. The buggy is made for quick travel.”

He nodded. “Fine by me.” He was still out of breath.

“I’ll go prepare it,” she said, grabbing her own coat and bonnet and heading out the back door.

Havoc stood there, panting, and felt about ready to just sit down where he was, when a hand landed heavy on his shoulder, and he jumped. It was Mustang, which explained why Hayate didn’t make any noise, and he was looking at Havoc with concern and alarm.

“What’s happened?” he said.

“Fuery fell… off the roof, sir.” He said, still panting. “Hawkeye sent me for help.”

Mustang’s eyes widened. “His condition?”

“Unconscious. We got him inside. Arm’s busted.” Havoc said.

Before more could be said, Breda and Falman came hurrying up to them.

“What’s going on?” Breda asked, knowing that something had to have happened for Havoc to be there looking as out of breath and muddy as he was.

“Fuery fell off the roof,” Mustang said. “Hawkeye sent Havoc for help.”

Both Breda and Falman looked alarmed.

“Doc’s on his way…” Havoc said, just starting to regain his breath. “The nurse said we could ride in the wagon with her.”

“You might want to get a horse instead, sir,” Breda said. “Falman discovered something.”

“I looked through the archives that they kept at the library,” Falman explained, “and the archives at city hall. There was an outside cellar door there at one time. Right here, near where the man that the captain hired showed us the strange marks.”

“Wait—” Mustang said. “You mean there might be a way in there? And if whoever it was stole the papers from the file, that means they either want information or are trying to keep it from getting out. And—”

“And Hawkeye’s there, all alone with an injured Fuery.” Havoc finished.

Breda cursed, but Mustang didn’t even waste the time. He headed off towards the livery stable, and Breda rushed after him. Havoc moved to, but stumbled, Falman barely catching him.

“Whoa—you alright, Havoc?” he asked.

Havoc cursed. “I’ve pushed myself too far.” He shook his head. “No, go. I’ll catch up on the wagon.”

Falman shook his head. “We’ll catch up on the wagon,” he said, already hearing it coming around the corner. “And if we need to, we’ll pick up Breda and the General too.”

The nurse let them both climb aboard, as well as Hayate, and headed out of town as quickly as she dared. Breda and Mustang were only a little way in front of them having gotten horses. Breda fell back to ride alongside them for a moment, telling them that Mustang was going to go on ahead of the wagon and try to catch up with the doctor in case something was wrong. Breda was going to do his best to catch up to the General. Falman and Havoc would be the backup that came a little bit behind them. Both men nodded. They understood. Breda asked the nurse, who was still driving the buggy at astonishing speeds, if she was alright with this.

“I’m a nurse,” she snapped back at him. “My job is to save lives, and there’s a life that needs saving there—maybe more than one when this is all over. I’m going.”

Breda nodded, and then sped up, chasing after Mustang.

Although the buggy was going at a good pace, it was still a buggy and it took longer than a horse. Havoc wished he had some way to make it faster, but he didn’t. All he could do was hold on and wait. He rubbed his legs, trying to work any cramps in them out. He was determined to be at his top game, or at least as close as he could be.

When they rolled up to the house, the front door was open, prompting both he and Falman to unholster their guns. The doctor’s horse was tied to a post, but Mustang and Breda’s horses were loose in the yard. Falman jumped down out of the wagon before it came to a stop, and Havoc wasn’t far behind him. “Stay here,” he said to the nurse, “until you’re given the all clear.”

“Right,” she said, keeping a grip on the reigns.

Havoc hurried in the door, not hearing any shots, or shouts, but kept his gun at the ready. When he came inside, though, what he heard was Fuery’s voice. He made his way into the living room where he saw the doctor near a slumped shape on the floor. Mustang and the others were gathered around it, listening.

“I’m sorry, sir…” Fuery was saying. “I tried… he came in here… out of nowhere. He threw something at Hawkeye… it smelled sweet. I think it was a gas or something.” His breath hitched in pain. “She tried to fight, but it got to her… I tried… I tried to stop him… I’m sorry. I couldn’t get any further. I’m sorry!”

“Which way did they go?” Mustang asked, a growl in his voice.

“…out the back…”

Mustang wasted no more time, up and heading out the door.

Havoc followed, calling back. “Falman, tell the nurse to come in here! Stay with them!” he said. He followed right behind Mustang, who had stopped at the backdoor, looking around.

“Where did they go?” he growled out, his eyes scouring the ground.

It took Havoc a moment to realize it, but it had stopped raining, and that would, hopefully, make it easier to track them. If Hawkeye was even a little bit conscious, she would be fighting for all that she was worth. Riza was a fighter, after all.

Hayate nosed at Havoc’s knees, and Havoc got an idea. “Breda—go grab something of Hawk’s. Hurry!” he said.

Breda, who had just come out to join them turned headed straight back into the house, coming out nearly immediately with something from the washroom. Havoc took it and knelt down, holding it out to Hayate. “Hayate—track” he said. “Find her. Find Hawkeye.”

Hayate snapped to attention, sniffed the piece of clothing, and immediately turned to track. Within a second, he had her scent, it seemed. He sniffed around a little more, and then headed off in a particular direction, clearly on the trail of something.

“I hope this works,” Breda muttered.

“It will,” Havoc said, stuffing the pieces of clothing in his pocket. “She’s not been out long, and the rain would have taken care of other scents. Whatever he’s got now, it’s got to be recent.”

“Let’s move!” Mustang snapped out. His gloves were already on, and he was clearly ready to fry whoever it was that took Hawkeye.

Havoc couldn’t really blame him.

As Hayate started hurrying along, Havoc could see signs someone of coming through—and signs of a struggle. Hawkeye, as predicted, clearly wasn’t just giving in. But there wasn’t as much struggle as he expected to see, and that worried him.

It worried him more when they came across a place where they found her guns lying on the ground. Mustang cursed but bent to pick them up. “Hurry,” he said. “We don’t know how far he went or how much of a head start he has on us!”

And we don’t know Hawkeye’s condition. That was the unsaid but prominent thought in all of their heads.

They went through a patch of woods, where the signs of a struggle were easier to see. Hayate moved faster than they did through the underbrush and the bushes, but the three men forged through, trying to make their way through the woods and keep up with the little dog. He was focused in on tracking Riza down, and Havoc couldn’t blame him. He loved her just as much as they did, that was for sure.

Finally, they emerged into a clearing, and almost immediately, Havoc spotted her. She was being half-drug across a field full of grass and marshy-looking land. The man who had her was pulling harshly on her, trying to tug her through the muddy land. Hawkeye was clearly not herself, not doing any actual fighting as much as basic resisting. If she was completely with it, the man clearly wouldn’t have had any chance at all. But he must have drugged her like Fuery said, because she wasn’t fighting to the fullest extent of her ability.

He had one of her arms thrown over his shoulders, and a hand around her waist, gripping her belt. He was trying to pull her along with him, but she was stumbling and throwing them off balance. He hauled on her, trying to get her to come along with him, and she resisted, managing to half wrench free from him. He kept a hold of her arm, but finally fed up, he backhanded her across the face, hard. She dropped, limp, at the same time Mustang roared out her rank.

“Captain!”

Breda cursed beside Havoc, drawing his gun, and Havoc whipped up the rifle he had picked up in the washroom earlier. Surprisingly, Mustang didn’t do anything but tense up. The man—his hood had fallen away now—looked up at them in shock, revealing himself to be the groundskeeper that Riza had hired to look after the place. He ducked down into the grass even as Breda fired off a shot. The grass was tall, and it hid him and Hawkeye both from view.

“Why didn’t you hit him with fire?” Breda asked, all of them tense as they tried to watch for any sign of the man, Johnson, or of Riza. It was too risky to try to shoot at them without knowing if they were going to hit Hawkeye.

“I can’t,” Mustang said. “This area is swampy. There’re gasses under the surface that don’t react well to fire. The rain’s helped to bring them up. They’re in the air, and an explosion would not be a good thing.”

Havoc winced at that. No, that wouldn’t be a good thing. The ground was saturated, and everything was soaked, but an explosion was an explosion, and it wouldn’t be a good thing at all. It could just as easily hurt Hawkeye or come back and hurt them.

“What about some of that Elric-type action?” Breda asked. “Make the ground move or push the ground up or something?”

“Between the water table being too high right now and the trapped gasses, it’s too risky.” Mustang said.

Their options limited, they all fell quiet listening for any sort of clue as to where the two might be. There were small movements in the grass, and Havoc kept an eye on them, looking through the scope of the rifle to try to get a better view.

“Do I have your permission to shoot if I see something?” he asked quietly.

“Granted,” Mustang said just as quietly

They waited, and nothing happened. Just the wind blowing through the wet grasses. Finally, tired of it, Mustang called out. “Johnson! We know you’re there! Come out! Let the captain go!”

There was a little movement, and Havoc shot near it. The grass near it suddenly skittered away and then there was nothing for a few seconds, at least until Johnson suddenly popped up, Riza held tightly to him, a knife at her neck. She only looked partially aware, and all of the men tensed.

“Don’t make another move!” Johnson said. “If you do, I’ll kill her!”

Riza was just with it enough to bring her hands up to his to try to pull them away, but not able to get any strength to them. Through his scope, Havoc had a good look at her face, and he could see the terror in her eyes. He wanted nothing more than to shoot Johnson right then and there, but he wasn’t as good a shot as Hawkeye was, and he wasn’t sure he could avoid hitting her, especially if Johnson moved.

“Let her go,” Mustang said, “and surrender. If you do that, this will all go better for you.”

“No,” he said, gritting his teeth. “She’s my ticket into what I need. Or at least, her back is.”

Havoc cursed.

“So, I’m not going to let her go!” Johnson continued.

“Hey—where’s the mutt?” Breda muttered, but Havoc didn’t have time to think about where Hayate was now.

He glanced over at Mustang, who looked both horrified and incensed.

“How does he know that?” Havoc asked, unsettled by this knowledge.

“…He must have heard the story,” Mustang said. “He was in the house then! And none of us realized it.” There was anger and loathing in Mustang’s voice, but it was clear that he was not going to focus on it now. Instead, he kept his eyes fully fixed on Hawkeye and Johnson.

“If you do anything to her,” Mustang called out. “I promise, you’ll get an up-close demonstration of Flame Alchemy.” It was clearly a threat, and one that anyone with any sort of sense would be able to see Mustang was ready to act on. This was no bluff.

Johnson shook his head, already starting to back away. “No. This is what we’ve been looking for! The key! The key to it all—and you’ve had her right by your side this entire time! We knew she had to be connected somehow, considering who her father was, but we never dreamed that she was the key to the whole thing! Just imagine, you had the source of flame alchemy right next to you! And there’s more isn’t there? There’s something more to this that you’re not telling. Not that it matters. With what her back will tell us, we’ll be able to reconstruct everything fully and once we do, the full power of flame alchemy will be ours! And I’ll have brought it. I’ll have brought the key! It will be all because of me!”

The man was clearly cracked, but he was letting out some important information too. “We,” “us,” words like that, that were pluralled. He was part of some sort of group. And it appeared to be a group that was after flame alchemy. Havoc guessed they had been pursing it for a while, trying to find the key to the power and going through Riza to do it. Chances were, he wasn’t someone very high ranking. But this was going to definitely put him on the map, and he was banking on that.

Unfortunately for him, they weren’t going to let him do that. Not only was Mustang ready to take him down, but after seeing Hawkeye’s breakdown and the lengths she had gone to, to ensure that no one was ever a flame alchemist again, at least not by her father’s work, or her own hand, neither Breda nor Havoc were willing to let this happen either.

That was about the time that Havoc realized that there was movement coming up behind Johnson, and he remembered Breda’s comment asking where Hayate was. Hayate was a trained military dog, and highly loyal to Riza. This man was clearly threatening Riza. It seemed that the little dog had decided to take matters into his own hands, or paws as it was.

Or, perhaps more accurately, into his own teeth.

Johnson was still waxing on about how he was going to be praised for bring the key to flame alchemy to whatever this group was when Hayate burst out of the grass, jumping in a high leap straight for the arm that held the knife. His teeth sunk into the man’s arm, and the man screamed in pain. It loosened his grip on Riza just enough for her to manage to slip away, although she did little more than fall that they could see.

Johnson was trying to shake and beat Hayate off of him, and that was when Havoc took his shot. It wasn’t a clean one, but it did manage to get Johnson in the shoulder. He jerked back, and Hayate let go, his growls clearly heard. The three men rushed forward. Johnson, panicked and injured, took off, fleeing the scene.

All of them wanted to pursue, but Riza was their top priority now. They rushed to her location, where she was collapsed in the mud, her face half-buried in it, trying to sit up. Mustang lifted her out of it, brushing the mud away from her face, getting it out of her nose and mouth so she could breathe better, and wiping it away from her eyes. It was mostly covered by the smell of the mud, but the scent of some sort of chloroform or the like could be sensed under it.

“Riza! Riza!” Mustang was holding her now, Breda standing guard over them while Havoc canvased the area to try to make sure that Johnson wasn’t going to pop back up.

“Want us to run him down?” Havoc asked.

Mustang shook his head. “No. I don’t want to send one of you alone, and we need to get Hawkeye back to the house. We’ll have to go after him later.”

“How is she?” Breda asked.

Havoc risked a quick glance back. Her eyes were fuzzy and not focused well, but her gaze was on Mustang, and it hadn’t left. There was deep emotion in her eyes, and it looked to Havoc that a large part of it was fear. No, they couldn’t just leave her here with one of them while two went looking for this guy. He was too dangerous. They needed to make sure that she was protected, especially after everything that he had said, even though that was also a problem.

“I’m not sure,” he said. “Let’s get her back to the house, have the doctor check her over, and head into town. We’ll get the sheriff and then go after Johnson.”

“Right,” Breda said. He holstered his gun. “Here. Put her on my back and we’ll get going.”

Carefully Mustang and Breda maneuvered the half-conscious Hawkeye onto Breda’s back while Havoc kept his gun at the ready, covering them. Then, once she was settled and Breda had a good grip on her, they set out back towards the house at as quick a pace as possible. Havoc kept his gun at the ready, and Mustang his gloves, but they didn’t encounter any problems as they traveled.

As they drew closer to the house, Havoc could see a few men gathered around it, most of them armed. Not sure what they’d just come back into, Havoc stood ready with his rifle, just in case, even as Breda and Mustang tensed as well. But one of the men turned and, seeing them, waved at them calling to them.

“Mustang! Do you have Riza?” the man called.

“Thompson?” Mustang said in surprise.

“Yeah. Saw Doc riding out towards this place, and then you and your men after. Figured something was up, so I got some of the men together and we rode out here.” Thompson said.

Mustang had kept moving, so Breda and Havoc had as well, heading straight for the house. Thompson met up with them, opening the door so that Breda could carry Hawkeye inside.

“Good. We’re going to need your help,” Mustang said without preamble

“Whatever we can do,” Thompson said.

Another man directed them towards the living room. “Doc’s in there. She hurt bad?”

“Dunno,” Breda said.

“Up the stairs,” the doctor had appeared. “I’ll look her over in her bedroom.”

Breda headed up the stairs with Hawkeye, but Mustang stopped to talk to Thompson, and Havoc stayed close.

“Do you know Bennett Johnson?” Mustang asked

Thompson nodded. “Yeah. Squirrely guy. New. Doesn’t talk much.”

“He’s been stalking us in this house. He’s gotten some information that he shouldn’t have and found out some personal information about Hawkeye.”

“And that’s why he kidnapped her, got it,” Thompson said.

“We need to stop him,” Mustang said. “He indicated that he was working with someone else. We need to get to him before he can get that information out.”

Thompson was nodding. “We can get some men out to his place. But it didn’t look like you were coming from the direction of his place.”

“Where does he live?” Mustang questioned.

“The old Steadman place,” Thompson said. “It was up for sale, and he took it.”

“The Steadman place is in the opposite direction,” Mustang said. “He must have another place somewhere he uses as well.”

“I’ll send Dave Macken back to town to get the sheriff and some other men. The rest of us will accompany you and your men to see if we can’t track him down,” Thompson said. “John Stitue and Bert Oslow can stay here in case he doubles back.”

Mustang nodded. “Just be warned, we’re pretty sure he had an interest in alchemy and may already be familiar with some forms of it.”

“Gotcha. Let me tell the others.” Thompson said.

He turned to leave, and before Havoc could ask anything of Mustang—or comment on how well Mustang seemed to know the area—Mustang was already moving on to the next order of business.

“Falman!” Mustang called out.

“Sir!” Falman replied.

“Stay here. Hold the fort. Keep an eye on Fuery and Hawkeye. Breda!”

Breda was already coming down the stairs. “Yes sir!” he responded.

“You and Havoc, you’re coming with me.”

“Yes, sir!” both Havoc and Breda responded.

Havoc desperately wanted to know how Fuery was doing, and an update on Hawkeye, but there was no time for that. It was too important for them to find Johnson and stop him. Within minutes they were heading out, Thompson already having instructed the other men. He and a group were ready to head off with all of them, and Havoc welcomed the back up. Mustang took point, Hayate still with them. The little dog was clearly ready to work, and clearly angry that Hawkeye had been wounded. Breda kept giving the dog the side eye, but Hayate only seemed concerned with staying by Mustang’s side.

Mustang didn’t even stop to see who all was there. “This way,” he said, and led the way. Havoc and Breda were right behind him, and the men of the town followed. There were about fifteen all together, and they all headed off in the direction that Johnson had gone: Back across the field, through the patch of forest, and into the other field.

“I forgot how much land the Hawkeyes owned,” Thompson said.

“This is all still the captain’s land?” Breda asked.

“If you mean Riza Hawkeye, then yeah,” Thompson said. “Her family has been here for generations. They were really prominent once, owned most of the stuff around here. But over the years they declined. Most things have fell into ruin, but none of them ever sold any of their land. Looking back at it now, I have no idea why Berthold didn’t sell parts of it. It would have more than kept him and Riza fed and in good money.”

“Because he was a neglectful, abusive man,” Mustang said, “and all of us were too stupid to really realize it until we were grown.”

The men in the group fell silent for a minute, until Thompson finally responded with a “…yeah. I guess that’s true,” and Havoc had to wonder at the backstory there.

They stopped in the middle of the field, right where they had rescued Hawkeye. “He got this far before we managed to catch up with him,” Mustang said. “Any idea where he might have gone?”

The men murmured among themselves, and a few ideas were thrown out, but no one seemed to have any sort of solid ideas. Most of them were discarded fairly quickly, especially considering that a lot of the land around here still was Hawkeye property and there was no one who really knew much about it, as it had been private for years.

“This is useful,” Breda muttered.

“Whatcha gonna do, Boss?” Havoc asked.

Mustang knelt down next to Hayate. “Hayate,” he said. “Attention.”

The little dog barked and stood straight and stiff, still and ready to take a command.

“Track.” He said. “Enemy. Find.”

Hayate gave a bark and began to sniff around.

“Ya sure this is gonna work, Mustang?” one of the men said. “He doesn’t look like a tracking dog.”

“Yeah, and the ground is saturated,” another pointed out.

“Black Hayate is a highly trained and decorated military animal,” Mustang said. “Captain Hawkeye trained him herself, according to military standards, and he passed top of all time. On top of that, he’s extremely loyal, and Johnson hurt Hawkeye, his owner. He’s determined. He’ll find him, if it’s possible.”

Hayate let out a little bark, as if to prove Mustang right, and headed off through the grass. The men followed behind, trailing slowly behind the pup until he seemed to catch something stronger. Then the pup gave another bark, and took off, the men hurrying after him as fast as they could. He seemed to have something hot, at least if Havoc’s experience with tracking dogs meant anything, following it around across the rest of the field, and then through more woods until finally they came to a small clearing where a small cabin stood.

Havoc didn’t like the looks of it. It was ramshackle and didn’t look terribly sturdy, but it was definitely defensible, and that possibility was a problem. Hayate had stopped just before the clearing, and the men all crouched in the bushes there too. Thompson looked at Mustang. “Alright—you’re the military man here. What’s the plan?”

Mustang was looking at the shack. “Havoc,” he said.

“Sir?” Havoc responded.

“Get around to the side. Get in a good position to be able to take him out if he comes out and it’s needed.” Mustang said. He looked at Thompson. “You got any who could do the same from the other side?”

“Yeah,” Thompson nodded. “Ersist, Neason, Ford, Caspian—you guys surround it too.”

Four men nodded.

“You’ve all got a minute to get into place,” Mustang said.

“Yes, sir,” Havoc said, and he headed out, the other men taking off as well. Havoc found himself a good place and got settled in and made sure that he spotted the others so as not to catch them in any crossfire. Then, he waited.

Mustang and Breda stepped forward.

“Bennett Johnson!” Mustang called out. “Come out and surrender peaceably! We know that you’re in there!”

There was a beat and then—

The ground rose up and came straight at Mustang.

Havoc kept his eye on the doorway, but out of the corner of his eye he watched. Mustang didn’t even flinch, he just clapped his hands, knelt, and a wall of his own rose in return, overwhelming and stopping the ground that had just been sent out. He clapped his hands again, and the ground went down.

“You think your second-rate alchemy can stand against mine?” he said. “Don’t kid yourself. Come out before you get yourself killed.”

The door slammed open, and Johnson came out, gun at the ready. Mustang snapped, and the air in front of Johnson exploded, sending him flying back. Havoc moved, Breda moving at the same time, the other men a beat behind them. Breda slammed into Johnson, slamming him into the ground and pinning him to it. Havoc joined in, holding him to the ground. Someone shoved some rope in their faces, and they quickly worked to tie Johnson up. The man was screaming at them the whole time, demanding, insisting that they would fall, and state alchemists would fall the farthest.

“Shut up!” Breda snapped at him, handing him over to the men who pulled him out of the cabin. He looked up at the cabin then and froze. “Boss,” he said. “You wanna get in here.”

Havoc looked up and his jaw dropped. All over were reports and instances of alchemy, with a focus on flame alchemy. Pictures, reports, all sorts of information that he couldn’t begin to understand were all over the walls. All of it was related to Alchemy, that much was clear to see.

Mustang stepped in, looked around and frowned, eyes narrowing. He clearly wasn’t happy about this, and Havoc could understand why. But he didn’t say anything else, not with all of the civilians around. Thompson walked in and looked around, whistling.

“Woah. You weren’t kidding about him,” he said.

Mustang turned abruptly around, clearly blocking Thompsons’s view. Thompson, for his part, didn’t try to see around him, understanding that he wasn’t supposed to see what was there.

“I need something else from you,” Mustang said. “From someone you can trust.”

Thompson nodded. “You need someone to guard this place,” he said. “Don’t worry, I’ll take care of it. And we’ll get this guy to the sheriff too.” He put a hand on Mustang’s shoulder. “You wanna get back to Riza, I know.”

“I have lots of responsibilities,” Mustang said. “This is one of them. But if it can be guarded then we can come back and properly look through it. Especially when we’re… less muddy.”

Havoc glanced down at himself, at the mud on his boots, pants, and even shirt, and then looked at the others. They were all covered in mud.

“Right,” Thompson said, looking back up from his own muddy clothes. “That makes sense. I’ll take care of it. Seriously, Roy, go check on her.”

Mustang gave him a nod. “Breda. Can you stay?”

“I’ll secure it,” he said. “You two go on back.”

“I’ll take care of making sure Johnson gets to town,” Havoc said, knowing that it was something else Mustang would be concerned about.

He seemed a bit relieved and nodded. “Alright. When you’re both finished, report back to the house.”

“Right.”

“Got it.”

They left the shack, Havoc stepping over towards the men who had Johnson while Breda started talking to the other men about some items he needed. Havoc watched for a moment as Thompson took a second to talk to the other men, and then he and Mustang both headed back towards the house.

The rest of the men split up, and Havoc walked with the group that was heading towards town with Johnson. It was quite a long walk back from where they were, especially if they wanted to take the paths and roads and not just cut through the land itself, which would make everything more muddy and more difficult. Johnson kept trying to resist and kept talking most of the way. Eventually he stopped both, seemingly growing tired, and apparently figuring out that it would be better for him to shut up rather than to keep talking and give away more information. Havoc was grateful not to hear his crazy rantings anymore, but it was too bad that there wasn’t more intel to easily grab from the guy.

The Sherriff had made his way out to the Hawkeye place by the time Havoc and the other men got to town, but one of his deputies was in. He took official custody of Johnson, locking him in the jail and using the dusty and obviously not often used handcuffs that would keep an alchemist from doing alchemy. Satisfied, Havoc left him there, intending to head back to Hawkeye’s house. His legs were absolutely killing him by this point, though, and so he sat down on some crates for a moment to rub them.

“Hey, son, are you about to make your way back to the Hawkeye place?” a voice called out to him.

Havoc looked up to see Mr. Nelson standing there and gave him a grin. “Yeah, just taking a breather.” He looked at his legs ruefully. “Just an old injury acting up. The past few days have been hard on it.”

Mr. Nelson nodded. “I understand. Well, you’re welcome t’ ride with us. The Misses is insistin’ on takin’ some food over there and checkin’ on everyone. We’re gonna take some supplies, too. I’m sure you’re all runnin’ low.”

Havoc nodded. “I’d be much obliged, sir, to ride with you and your wife.”

“Good. Give us ‘bout ten more minutes. Come inside the store ‘nd have some coffee while you wait.” Mr. Nelson said.

Havoc got up, albeit a bit painfully now that he had sat down and followed Mr. Nelson into the store. He followed his directions back to the home behind it where Mrs. Nelson was in the kitchen, bustling around, packing up dishes. She smiled when she saw Havoc, waved him to a seat, an in a matter of moments had a cup of coffee sitting in front of him before she went back to packing up the food.

“Can I help you?” he asked her.

Mrs. Nelson waved it off. “No, no, dear, you just rest up. I saw you come runnin’ into town earlier, heard the hullabaloo that followed, saw the men running off, saw you come back. You need to rest. Just take a few minutes to rest your body, dear.”

Havoc knew a losing battle when he saw one, and so he acquiesced, watching her make her way about the kitchen. From the looks of it, he would just be in the way if he tried to help anyway. This was a woman who was a master of her kitchen, and to help her without knowledge of how she did things was to just be a hindrance.

They were ready to go within the promised ten minutes, and Havoc rode up with them while Mr. Nelson drove. He filled them in on the barest of details of what happened: How they had discovered that someone was sneaking into the home, how paperwork had gone missing, how Johnson had overheard sensitive information and personal information about Hawkeye, how Fuery had fallen off the roof, how Johnson had kidnapped Hawkeye in what they believed was an attempt to get more information, how they had rescued her and then gone after Johnson, how they had captured him and found his hideout with information in it they needed to go through, and how he helped to bring Johnson to town.

Mrs. Nelson just became more and more determined to look after everyone there as he spoke. Havoc could see it in her eyes. His own mother frequently got the same look in her eyes. Mr. Nelson’s jaw was set, clearly not happy about what had happened, and he had a few strong opinions about it.

When they pulled up to the house, it seemed to Havoc that more people were there. Havoc got down, anxious to check on everyone, but not sure at all what was happening here. Mr. and Mrs. Nelson shooed him on, saying they’d take care of what was in the wagon themselves.

Havoc made his way inside, where Mustang was talking with the Sherriff. Fuery, it seemed, was not in the living room anymore, and Hawkeye wasn’t there either. Falman wasn’t in the room, but Havoc could hear voices from out back that sounded like they were doing some sort of work. Breda was standing near Mustang and the sheriff, obviously back from securing the location. They turned to look at him. As he got closer.

“Havoc, report,” Mustang said.

“Got the prisoner back to the jail. Handed him over to one of the deputies who locked him up. He and a couple of others are going to process him, make sure he doesn’t have anything on him that’s dangerous.” Havoc said. “Mr. and Mrs. Nelson are also outside, about to bring some food and supplies in."

Mustang nodded. “Good. Breda’s got the location of the shack secure, and the sheriff has drafted some men to be guards. We’re also got guards around the house Johnson was living in.”

“Falman’s out back with some of the men, digging to see if they can find that entrance,” Breda said. “If they can, it’ll answer a lot of questions.”

Havoc nodded, and then his voice softened. “How are Hawkeye and Fuery?”

Mustang took a breath in and let it out, running a hand through his hair. “The doctor says that Fuery was lucky. It looks like he broke his arm in two places and has a concussion. It’s going to take some time to heal, but overall, he will recover. He wants to get him back to his practice, though, to give him a more thorough look over, just to be sure that there aren’t any problems with his neck and spine.”

Havoc nodded. That made sense. A fall like that could kill a man, easily. If Fuery walked away with only a broken arm and a concussion, then he was getting off easy. Havoc was, understandably, quite worried about Fuery’s back. He knew what it was not to have the use of his legs, and he didn’t want that for the young man. They were fresh out of philosopher’s stones to heal him with.

“As for Hawkeye, she’ll recover as well. She has a nasty bruise from where Johnson hit her face and swelling as well, and some other injuries from resisting. He used a powerful sedative on her, although it didn’t knock her out as much as he wanted it to. She’s going to be groggy from that for a while. She’s mostly got to sleep it off.” Mustang said, and there was a note of relief in his voice. “All in all, it looks like they’re both going to be fine.”

“That’s good to hear, sir,” Havoc said, although he knew that it didn’t touch half of what all of them were really concerned about. They had all seen how she had reacted to being in the basement. They all realized the lengths she went to, to keep her tattoo a secret. They all saw how much it had affected her to show it to them. And now a stranger had knowledge of it and had tried to kidnap her for it. That wasn’t going to put her in a good place emotionally or mentally. And, if her father had drugged her before to put on the tattoo, was this drugging in conjunction with getting the tattoos secrets going to leave her with some issues too?

Havoc wouldn’t doubt it.

“Do you mind if I got up to check on them?” he asked. “Or do you need me to do something?’

Mustang shook his head. “No, go on. It’ll be good for them.”

Havoc nodded and headed for the stairs, trying not to hobble up them. He could hear more voices up there, sounding like the doctor and the nurse, and maybe a few others too. Seeing as they seemed to be coming from Hawkeye’s room, he decided to check in on Fuery first and see how he was doing.

The young man was lying in a bed, his head and neck stabilized, and Havoc had an uncomfortable remembrance of that being done to him as well, before they knew for sure what was wrong with him. His eyes were closed, but his face was in pain, and he didn’t seem to be sleeping.

Havoc knocked lightly on the door frame. “Hey, Sarge, you awake?”

“Unfortunately,” came Fuery’s reply, and he opened his eyes to look at Havoc.

“How are you feeling?” Havoc asked him.

“Terrible, thanks,” Fuery replied. “My arm is killing me, my head is pounding, and my back hurts.”

“But you are feeling, right?” Havoc pressed.

Fuery opened his eyes again and focused on Havoc. Understanding dawned in the other man’s eyes.

“Yeah,” he said. “I feel everything. Hands, feet, arms, legs, all of it,” he said. “I definitely feel my broken arm.”

Havoc laughed “I bet you do,” he said, but he knew there was relief in his voice.

“Can you fill me in on what happened?” Fuery said, his voice going a bit soft. “No one will tell me anything—but I think that’s because most of them don’t have the information to tell me.”

“Sure thing, Sarge,” Havoc said, and he pulled up a stool alongside Fuery’s bed.

The younger man was still feeling guilty about not being able to do anything to really help Hawkeye, that much was obvious. He had risked injuring himself further by moving off of the couch to try to help her and stop the man, but he hadn’t been able to do anything about it, except point the others in the direction that she had been taken.

Havoc sat there and explained in detail what had gone down to Fuery. He was upset to hear how the man had hit Hawkeye, and the way that she had just gone down. He was, however, quite happy to hear that Hayate had gotten him, and that Havoc had shot the man in the shoulder. He was also glad to hear that Hawkeye was going to make a full recovery although he, like Havoc was clearly worried.

“And… how is she doing, sir?” Fuery asked, his voice soft.

Havoc glanced at the door, and then ran a hand through his hair. “I’ve not been in there to see her yet, but, even as strong as she is, this is going to be hard on her, I’m sure.”

Fuery frowned. “After what we found out and what she told us, I can’t help but be worried. It was like her worst fears coming true.”

Havoc nodded. “Yeah,” he said. “I can’t imagine that the drugging helped either.”

Fuery hummed. “Yeah, not when well, what she told us used to happen to her happened.”

Havoc let out a breath. “Something tells me it’ll be best to let the boss handle most of that one, but I think we’re still going to need to stand by her. We’ll need to prove to her that we’re still here too, and that we’ve got her back.”

“Yeah,” Fuery agreed. “I can’t imagine… It had to bring back some trauma.”

“You know it did,” he said. “And she’s carried it deep for a lot longer than we ever knew. Boss holds some guilt about it as well. So that’s where we’ll have to step in, to make sure they’re both not drowned in it.”

Fuery lifted up his good arm and held it out to Havoc. Havoc reached over, clasping it. “We’ll look after them both,” Fuery said. “That’s what a team is for.”

Havoc couldn’t help the determined grin that came over his face. “You know that’s true. That’s what we’re going to do.”

He stayed and chatted with Fuery for just a while longer, talking about what was coming next for Fuery. He knew that he was going to be transported back to the doctor’s office and that he was going to have other tests run on him to be sure that he wasn’t more injured than they realized. Fuery didn’t mind that so much, as he understood and really would rather be safe than sorry. But he also didn’t want to be away from everyone right now, concerned about Hawkeye and the whole situation.

Still, eventually the younger man did grow sleepy, the pain medicine that the doctor had given him trying to take over again. Fuery tried to fight it, but Havoc encouraged him not to. He needed all the rest that he could get, even if it was just his arm and head that were hurt. Fuery finally acquiesced, and Havoc left him falling asleep in that room.

Havoc made his way down the hall towards Hawkeye’s room. He didn’t hear anyone in there, now, and he knew that there was a good chance that she’d be asleep, but he needed to at least look in on her and see that she was whole with his own eyes.

He could still hear noise and talking from downstairs, although nothing sounded urgent yet. He was pretty sure he heard Mrs. Nelson’s voice sending everyone out of the kitchen and fussing about the amount of mud that they were bringing inside the house. Havoc smirked. Well, maybe she could help them clean it—or set the other men to work doing it. Even if she didn’t Havoc would make sure that it was clean for Hawkeye, even if he had to do it himself.

He stopped at her door. It wasn’t completely shut but left ajar. It was enough to be able to give her privacy, but to still allow someone to keep an ear on her, or to hear her if she cried out for anything. He knocked on her door, not too hard, but enough to be heard, and waited. Hopefully, she’d answer.

“Come in.” Her voice was groggy, exhausted, and sounded pained. Havoc didn’t like any of that, even though he expected it.

He pushed open the door, enough to look around it. “Hey, Ri. Up for a visitor?”

“No,” she said, but she beckoned him forward anyway with a slight smile on her lips.

She didn’t look good. She was a pale, except for the side of her face that was already changing colors and looked a bit swollen. There were cuts on it, near her eye, and he could only guess that it came from the hit that she took. That alone was enough to make his blood boil, but there wasn’t much that he could do about it now. He had already shot the guy in the shoulder. Part of him didn’t think it was enough, but that was personal feelings and knowing the whole story.

“How ya feeling?” he said as he came in, sitting himself down on the edge of her bed, although he did it very gingerly. He wasn’t sure how she was feeling, but he also didn’t feel like he could keep standing for long periods of time, at least not without moving.

“Pretty bad,” she said. “My face hurts a lot. I’m sore. I’m… drugged. And…” she hesitated. “…I’m… upset.”

It was clearly an understatement, and he knew it. But neither of them was going to talk about it too openly with so many people here.

“Yeah,” he said. They were quiet for a moment, and then, he stood up, went over to her door and closed it. “Riza…what happened?”

She was quiet for a moment, emotion playing over her face. It was always harder for her to keep her mask up when she was drugged or addled. It wasn’t the first time that she, or any of them, really, had been a bit compromised, but it was still hard to see.

“After you left, Fuery started coming around. I was trying to tend to what I could on him, telling him to stay still when I heard footsteps behind me. He must have spent a lot of time in this house, because he knew how to make his way past the creaky places. Fuery’s eyes widened, and that was when I knew that someone was behind me. I turned around, pulling out my gun as I did, but he threw something at me, a capsule of some kind, and it exploded. I stepped backwards, but the fumes were already on me. Whatever I was, it was fast acting, because I started to feel the effects nearly right away. And Jean,” she paused, meeting his eyes. “Things like that, they don’t affect me quickly or at normal doses. Whatever it was, it would have knocked anyone else out immediately.”

Havoc’s face tightened at that. It wasn’t a good thing, that was for sure, and he didn’t like the implications of it.

“Things are a little hard to put in the right order after that. I felt woozy and off balance. I couldn’t react well or fast. I couldn’t think. I tried to shoot at him, but he knocked the gun out of my hand. It must have landed near Fuery, I think. I heard him calling out as I tried to fight back and failed. The man grabbed me around the arms and pulled me away with him. All I remember was confusion and noise and shouting for a few moments there, and then I was being shoved outside onto the muddy ground. He picked me up, and started pulling me along with him, dragging me by the arm.”

She paused, shifting, trying to make herself more comfortable, but obviously not succeeding. She settled back down again, but she pulled her arm out from under the blankets. “I think he bruised me there too.”

Havoc reached over to her sleeve, and gently pushed it up, looking at her arm. There were traces of a forming bruise there, and he frowned. He didn’t like it, and he knew that Mustang would be furious.

“I managed to regain some of my senses when we were halfway across the field, and I stared trying to resist. He pulled on me harder, pushing me and prodding me along. I made it as hard as I could for him, but I wasn’t able to do much. At one point I ripped off the mask he was wearing and saw that it was Johnson. I think I asked him why, because he started ranting about… things.”

She looked back up at Havoc, and her eyes were scared. It made Havoc’s heart twist inside of his chest to see her look at him like that, and he couldn’t help it. He gave her hand a squeeze.

“I don’t remember all of it, not clearly. But Jean… he knew about my tattoo. He knew about flame alchemy. He said he had seen the tattoo and the burns, and that he would be praised for bringing me back. He saw me as a prize, and clearly wanted to use me to further himself. He said… he said that there were people who would be able to reconstruct the circle.”

Her voice had a shake in it, she was clearly rattled and upset by this, and Havoc found that he couldn’t blame her in the least. This was something important. Even if it wasn’t, just the emotional distress that it brought because it was important to her meant something to him.

“Yeah, he was talking something about how taking you with him was going to be a good thing for him too, when we caught up with you,” Havoc said. “But more on that later. What else happened?”

Hawkeye gave a slight shake of her head. “He just kept pulling me. I tried to go for my guns, but he stripped them off of me, threw them down. I used the woods to resist more, pulling on trees and bushes and whatever else I could to try to slow us down. By the time we got to the field, I was digging in my heels, and he must have gotten tired of it, because I remember him hitting me so hard that I think I blacked out for a moment.”

She let out a breath. “When I came to my senses again, he was pulling me up, a knife at my neck, and all of you were there.”

There was an extra fear in her eyes, and Havoc could understand it. Hawkeye had been extra protective of her neck since the Promised Day, and no one could blame her, really. Having it sliced open and bleeding out to force the man you love to sacrifice himself would be traumatic for anyone, really. Havoc was sure that she was going to be extra guarded for the next little bit.

“I remember you all appearing, and I remember being brought back here, although it’s all rather fuzzy. The doctor was already here, and I think Breda took me upstairs? But after that, I have no idea what happened.” She looked at him, anxiety in her eyes. “What happened to Johnson?”

Havoc could hear the unspoken questions in that one question. What happened to Johnson really meant did anyone else know what he knew, was anyone else listening to him, how many people knew about her tattoo now?

“I managed to shoot him in the shoulder,” Havoc said, “after Hayate surprised him into dropping you. He ran off, and we didn’t know just how dangerous he was, so we came back here. Apparently, our hasty exit from town had caused quite a stir, so there were men from the town already here, to see what was going on. We explained that Johnson had been skulking around the house, gotten his hands on some sensitive information, found out some personal information about you, and had kidnapped you, although we weren’t sure of the ultimate purpose of that.”

Hawkeye had been looking a bit nervous, but she seemed to relax a bit as his words. It seemed that the excuse they and given was good enough for her. She nodded at him to continue. Havoc did, filling her in on how she had gotten back and what was currently going on, as well as Fuery’s condition. At one point, when talking about Hayate, he heard a thump thump thump from the other side of the bed and realized that the little dog was in there, guarding his mistress. That honestly made Havoc feel better about leaving her up here alone.

He finished, and she sighed, still looking anxious about the whole deal. He couldn’t blame her, but it still pulled at his heart. Havoc reached up and gently brushed her bangs away from her face. “Hey, Ri. Listen, no matter what happens, we’re here with you, okay? We’ll do our best to make sure it’s all okay.”

“I know,” she said. “But I still can’t help but worry.” She paused. “It scares me, Jean. It scares me to my bones. It scares me so deeply that I can’t even—”

She paused and took in a shaky breath, not quite able to find the words to continue.

“I can only imagine,” he said, and he leaned over to give her a kiss on the forehead. “We’re here for you, though. We’re not going to let anything happen to you.”

Riza bit her lip but nodded. “Thank you, Havoc,” she said. ‘I really do appreciate it. I’m sure Fuery does too. You’ll keep me updated on what’s going on?” she asked him.

Havoc nodded. “Me, or someone else,” he said “But we’ll make sure to keep you two in the loop as much as we can. Fuery’s gonna be a bit harder, unless he got that phone connected. Though.”

“I heard someone on the roof earlier,” Hawkeye said. “So, you might check and see if someone else managed to get the phone working and hooked up. Someone in town has to be able to do it, after all, and maybe whoever it is came along and took care of it.”

“Yeah, or someone sent for him,” Havoc said. “After all, having a phone would be a great asset to an investigation.”

“Always is,” Hawkeye agreed.

“I’ll check on that, then,” Havoc said, and slowly stood up, wincing as he stretched out his poor, overused legs. They were killing him, and they would only get worse as the day went on. He was lucky that the rain had stopped, though. That would have made all of this unbearable, he was sure. He stretched, and then noticed a little something and reached for it.

On her dresser, that stuffed yellow rabbit was sitting. He picked it up, and then reached over to her, tucking it into bed with her. “There you go,” he said with a grin. “Between this guy and Hayate,” there went the tail thumping again, the little guy clearly paying attention to things, “you’ll be well protected.” He reached down, putting a hand on Hawkeye’s head again. “You need anything? I can bring you something if you do.”

Riza shook her head. “No,” she said. “I think that I just need to sleep this off,” she said. “It’s starting to get to me again.”

“Then rest, Riza. I’ll be back later to check on you, or someone from the team will.” He said, taking his hand back.

She gave a light hum and nodded slightly, and he left the room, leaving the door ajar, as he had found it.

Havoc ambled back over to Fuery’s room before he went downstairs, to check on him and see if he needed anything. The young man, who appeared to be sleeping, was apparently just dozing, because he asked how Hawkeye was doing. Havoc gave him a brief update, both on her physical and emotional state. Concern shone in Fuery’s eyes.

“I should have grabbed her gun and shot him,” he said, lamenting not being able to stop Johnson from taking her. “Or done something. Anything.”

“Don’t beat yourself up about it. Honestly, she’s feeling guilty because she’s afraid you could have hurt yourself worse trying to save her,” Havoc said. “You two are going to worry yourself in circles about each other. You did what you could, alright? No sense in beating yourself up over what could have been.”

Fuery gave a noise of agreement. “Yeah, I suppose.” But Havoc could see in his eyes, that he wasn’t letting go of it just yet, and he couldn’t really blame him. Havoc wouldn’t be able to immediately let go of it either.

“I’m going to check out what’s going on downstairs. You need anything before I go?”’ he asked.

Fuery tried to shake his head, and then stopped, his neck still immobilized. “No, I’m good. The doctor doesn’t want me moving around much, so I’m trying not to eat or drink a lot because I don’t want to deal with the bathroom right now,” He pulled a face, and Havoc laughed.

“Can’t blame you on that one,” he said. “Alright, I’ll check on you later.”

“Keep me updated!” Fuery said.

“Will do—oh. Not that I expect it, but before you fell did you manage to get the phone hooked up?” Havoc asked, remembering just before he walked out the door.

“I was pushed,” Fuery said, “that I remember, and no. I was almost there, but before I could finish connecting the line I had run from the inside, someone, I’m guessing Johnson, pushed me off the roof. I’m just glad it was in the direction of the tree, because I tried to catch myself on it as much as I was able to. The doctor said that probably slowed my fall and helped keep it from getting any worse.” Fuery paused. “As much as I don’t think Johnson would have cared if I had died, I also don’t think he was actively trying to kill me.”

“That actually makes sense,” Havoc said. “If you were dead, I wouldn’t have run to town for the doctor. I’m not sure what we would have done, but Hawkeye and I wouldn’t have split up. But with you injured, someone had to stay here to look after you.”

“Yeah,” Fuery said, and looked a little pale at the thought.

Havoc reached over and put a hand on the man’s shoulder. “I’m glad you’re still with us, Fuery,” he said, wholeheartedly meaning every word.

Fuery gave him a smile back. “Me too, sir.”

Havoc withdrew his hand and moved back towards the door. “Alright. I’ll come back later. Yell or something if you need anything.”

“Will do, sir.” Fuery responded.

Havoc left the room, leaving the door ajar like he had Hawkeye’s. He stood there a minute, taking a breath. He hadn’t had a breather since Fuery fell, or, rather, was pushed, off the roof this morning, and he could use a minute to himself.

It had been a crazy day and it was a lot to process. The day wasn’t even over yet. He still needed to find out what was going on outside, see about the phone, and, at some point, clean Hawkeye’s floors for her. She would not be happy to see the muddy state they were in. It was a silly thing, maybe, but it was something concreate that he felt he could do for her. There was precious little he felt like he could do for her right now anyway. Not with her secret on the line.

And what was going to be done about that? Even if he didn’t tell the townspeople, there was a good chance it would come up in investigations. He was sure that Breda and Mustang both had already thought about this. After all, Breda was their strategist, and Mustang was, well, Mustang. He was always thinking steps ahead of the game, even when he didn’t have all of the information or pieces. Honestly, the biggest screw up that Havoc could remember him taking was when he tried to see if General Raven was on their side and instead exposed their whole team to the council and Bradley, which resulted in them being split up. But to be fair, who could have anticipated that? Havoc didn’t think that anyone could have, so he didn’t really blame Mustang for that one. It was totally and entirely unexpected.

And yet Mustang had still found a way to turn it all around for them—with a little help from Havoc himself. He wished he could have seen the look on Mustang’s face when he heard his voice over the phone that day.

With a soft sight, Havoc pushed himself up from the railing that he was leaning against and turned to amble his way downstairs. There was still work to be done, obviously, and no one was getting to either Fuery or Hawkeye with this many people in the house. Not that they wouldn’t all be keeping an ear out anyway, but still. Besides, he could hear the nurse in the bathroom, clearly running water and preparing something, so they would both be looked after.

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aquietwritingcorner · 3 years ago

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Embers of Revelation

Author: RealityBreakGirl/aquietlearningcorner Word Count: 17582 Rating: T Prompt: FMA Big Bang 2021 Warnings: Child abuse/neglect Characters: Riza Hawkeye, Roy Mustang, Jean Havoc, Heymans Breda, Vato Falman, Kain Fuery, Black Hayate Pairing: Royai Genre: Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Family Chapter: 3 of 7 Summary: Tasked by Fuhrer Grumman to investigate a suspected alchemic incident, General Mustang’s team finds themselves stranded in Hawkeye’s hometown. Needing a place to stay, they find themselves taking shelter in her childhood home. However, her past can’t stay buried there, and as revelations come to light, they also bring embers of danger with them. Sequel to Embers in a Wounded Heart AO3 || ff.net

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Chapter 3

At some point, Havoc managed to fall asleep for a few hours. When the next morning came, it was without much sign of the dawn. The house itself seemed to be holding something heavy, and Havoc couldn’t shake that feeling. Still, he got on up. His legs were still killing him, but he refused to let them keep him in bed, not after what happened yesterday. Normally Breda slept through Havoc getting up, or at least rolled over and got back to sleep for a few minutes, but today he didn’t seem willing to, and instead got up with Havoc as well. Neither of them said a word, but Breda did keep an extra eye on Havoc, which Havoc couldn’t really blame him for. They made their way down the stairs together, Havoc stopping to look in the living room, Mustang was still there, reclined on some pillows, with Hawkeye still in his arms. Hayate was sleeping nearby them. Havoc and Breda exchanged a look, then both made their way to the kitchen, very quietly. Neither of them wanted to disturb Hawkeye, not after last night.

Fuery was already in the kitchen, it apparently being his turn on watch. He had a much-needed pot of coffee going, and both Havoc and Breda partook in it before helping with breakfast. It wasn’t long into the process of cooking breakfast that Falman joined them, apparently in the same boat as Havoc and Breda as far as sleeping in went. Falman stopped to look at the sleeping pair, and Fuery joined him for a second. Havoc saw Fuery make a beckoning motion, and within moments Hayate was joining them in the kitchen. Soon after the little dog was quietly eating on some leftovers seasoned with a little bacon grease while the other men quietly drank their coffee and ate. No one talked. No one spoke. Everyone kept silent. Finally, though, as they finished up, Falman broke the silence.

“How long do you think we should let them sleep for?” he asked, his voice still soft, almost muffled in the oppression that seemed to hang in the air, the sound of pouring rain adding to it.

“As long as they want to,” Breda said firmly. “After last night, they both need it.”

“Hawkeye especially,” Fuery said, looking down at his coffee. “The way she screamed and begged…” he trailed off. “It was haunting.”

Breda looked over at Havoc curiously. “Look, Hav, I’m not trying to pry, but when you and the captain and general were here last time, did you have any hint of this?”

Havoc frowned, and leaned back in his seat, trying to figure out just what to tell them. What would be too much, and what would be alright? Finally, he sighed and sat up straighter.

“The whole way here, on the train, in town, on the way to the house, Hawkeye gave Mustang the cold shoulder. No, it was more intense than that. It was like she was walking on the border between being angry and outright attacking him. Maybe not physically, but some sort of attack,” he said. “Anytime he tried to show her any compassion or worry, she had sharp words and would jerk away from them. He got really frustrated with it too, although he tried to be calm.”

He frowned. “There were a few times that stuck out, though, when Hawkeye either left, or when I though the two of them were about to come to blows. One time was when I started to ask if her father had taught the general Flame Alchemy. I didn’t even finish the sentence before she was out the door to check on the horses. Another was when the General asked her where her father would keep his notes, and she said something like ‘He never told me where he planned to put his notes. Sir.’ And I got the feeling that there was something a lot heavier to that. I never got clarification on what.”

He looked up at the men. “Mustang did keep looking after her, though. He made sure she wasn’t in her father’s bedroom alone. Her dad apparently died in it, while she was looking after him. And he sent her out of the study at one point and burned something he found after that. He never seemed to expect her to go in the basement. He was real squirrelly about me being down there too.”

“Actually,” he blinked. “It was after that, that things took a turn. Hawkeye disappeared, and we searched to find her. I found her on the roof, and she all but admitted that she used to come on the roof a lot as a child because it was hard to find her there. But while we were up there… well, she broke down on me. We talked a little, although no, she didn’t tell me much of anything, but after that she and the general seemed to patch it up.”

Havoc shook his head. “I don’t have any details on what her childhood was like, and even less on her father. But, well, from what I did learn, it seemed like Mustang was the only bright spot in her childhood, and that her father was a fan of harsh punishments.”

“…do you think that’s what went on in that basement?” Fuery asked, shifting uncomfortably in his chair. “Harsh punishments?”

“Even ‘harsh punishments’ shouldn’t leave someone with so much trauma attached,” Breda said. “Not trauma like that. This was… something more.”

“Something a lot more,” Havoc said with a frown. “This might explain a lot about her,” he said.

Falman’s brow furrowed. “I don’t want to analyze the captain too much, not without her permission, but…” he looked up at the other men. “It sounds to me as if Hawkeye was abused as a child. Even before… whatever that was.”

The others shifted uncomfortably, but none of them argued the point.

Finally, Havoc spoke as well. “I think she was also neglected. From the way she talked last time, it sounded like she didn’t always have food or maybe other things she needed.”

“So, he was a crap father all the way around.” Breda said.

“The only good thing I can say, is that Hawkeye told a story about when Mustang was first here, and she was a child swimming in the pond. Mustang stumbled on her, thought she was drowning, tried to rescue her, and Hawkeye thought he was after her. She socked him in the nose and ran back to the house screaming for her father. He apparently drew the line at that and was angry at Mustang until it was all worked out.” Havoc said.

“If the only good thing you can say about the man is that he protected his daughter from perverts, then that’s not saying much about him, since that’s basic,” Breda said. He ran a hand through his hair and cursed. “No wonder she was able to survive Ishval as well as she did. She already had the coping skills that other snipers didn’t.”

“Twice the trauma,” Fuery said.

“Or more,” Falman put in, “depending on what happened in that basement.”

“Yeah.”

The men fell silent and then, one by one, got up to attend to the chores for the day. They went through all of them quietly, not daring to wake either Mustang or Hawkeye.

When Mustang woke up, he didn’t leave the couch or Hawkeye, adamant about not leaving her. Hawkeye had really exhausted herself, Havoc figured, because it was nearing noon before she began to stir. Lunch was Fuery’s soup reheated, and they ate it in shifts, the men having unconsciously agreed that someone should be in there with Hawkeye and Mustang at all times, just in case. It was Havoc’s unofficial turn on watch, and he sat in the living room in a chair, reading a book while the fire crackled in the fireplace. He could hear Breda and Falman talking over plans for exploring and analyzing the basement, and Fuery working on cleaning up the kitchen. But when Hawkeye stirred, his attention snapped to her, and he signaled to Breda. Within moments all had fallen silent, the other three men hovering near the doorway, watching carefully.

“Riza?” Mustang said softly, and she let out a soft sigh and tried to turn over. Of course, being on a couch, she couldn’t, causing her to wake more. She blinked sleepily up at Mustang.

“Mm… Roy?” she said, her voice heavy with sleep and confusion.

“Yeah, I’m here,” he said gently. “I told you I wasn’t going to leave you.”

She blinked at him then, and then looked around confused. “Why are we on the couch?” she asked. “And…what’s going on?”

“You cried yourself to sleep on me,” he said. “And I promised I’d not leave you.”

Hawkeye looked around, and Havoc could see that she was still confused, especially when she saw the others gathered in the doorway. With the way they were looking at her, Havoc figured it was clear that something else besides just falling asleep on her commanding officer had happened.

“What’s… what’s going on?” she asked, and Havoc could see her tensing up.

“Riza,” Mustang redirected her attention to him, and Havoc took note that neither of them had moved off of each other. “What’s the year?”

“The… year?” Her brow furrowed, although Havoc thought it was more at the question then because f trying to remember the date. “It’s 1916,” she said.

“And do you know who each of these men are?” he questioned her.

“Yes,” she said, shooting him a strange look before redirecting her attention to each of them. “First Lieutenant Jean Havoc. First Lieutenant Heymans Breda. First Lieutenant Vato Falman. Master Sergeant Kain Fuery.” She named them all dutifully, but the question as to why he was asking her this was clear in her tone.

“Good,” he said. “Now—What do you remember about last night?”

“Last night?” The question seemed to surprise her more than the others, and Havoc saw her take a quick glance down herself, looking for injuries. Finding none, she seemed to refocus on the question. “I…” she paused. “I’m not sure. The last thing I remember was… Let’s see. I finished cleaning. There weren’t any more chores to be done. I thought I heard someone moving around, and I was about to see if it was Havoc. But then I saw that the basement door was open when it hadn’t been before, and something didn’t feel right. I called out for Havoc, but before I heard an answer, I was… I was pushed from behind, and into the basement,” her voice sounded surprised, and there was a trace of something Havoc didn’t want to hear in her voice. It sounded like fear. “I… I tried to get out, but it was locked. I couldn’t escape, and I—” She shuddered. There was definitely fear in her voice now, and in her body language too. “I… I couldn’t… I….” She trailed off, a hand coming up to cover her mouth, and Havoc could have sworn he heard her say something that sounded like “just like the last time” but he couldn’t be sure.

Mustang’s hand came up to stroke her hair. “Do you remember anything after that?” He asked her gently.

She shook her head and lowered her hand. “No. Just… panic. Nothing but panic.” She looked up at Mustang, glanced at the rest of them. “What happened to me?”

Msutang shook his head. “We’re still working some of that out,” he said. “But we really don’t know. What we do know is that when we got back from town you were missing. We found you in the basement and… Riza… you were deep in the throes of a flashback. We couldn’t break you out of it and drug you up here. You eventually recognized me, but thought I’d come back after your father kicked me out.”

She looked horrified. “I—I—” Havoc had never seen her at a loss for words like this, but she didn’t seem to know what to say. “A-and… did I…?”

She trailed off, glancing at him and the others, and there seemed to be something that she was unwilling to say. Havoc both desperately wanted to know what, but also didn’t want to invade her privacy. Still, what could she be hiding? It burned at him.

Mustang glanced at them as well, and then refocused back on her. “Not in so many words. But they know something happened down there. Something very bad.” She made a strange noise in the back of her throat and let her head fall into his chest. Mustang stroked her hair. “You don’t have to make any decisions now. But you will need to tell them something. I haven’t. It’s not my place.”

She sighed, and after a moment, turned her head from where it rested, looking at them with a bone-weary expression on her face and an old pain in her eyes. It was clear to Havoc that she wasn’t currently ready to tell them anything.

“…. Why don’t you let me get you something to eat or drink,” Fuery said, his voice full of kindness. “You both could use something.” Apparently, Havoc wasn’t the only one to see she wasn’t ready yet.

“Yes, thank you, Fuery,” Mustang said, then turned his attention back to Riza, murmuring to her, something too quiet for the rest of them to hear. She seemed to respond, although Havoc had no idea what she was saying.

That was alright by Havoc. They two of them probably needed some time to figure things out, especially now that Hawkeye was back to her senses—something that honestly relieved Havoc.

Mustang got Hawkeye to eat some of the soup that Fuery brought them, but she clearly didn’t have much of an appetite, and the bowl came back mostly untouched, to Fuery’s worried disappointment. Havoc saw Breda give the young man’s shoulder a squeeze at one point. All of them wanted to do something to help, although no one was quite sure what. Mustang and Hawkeye stayed in the living room most of the afternoon, quietly talking things over. No one bothered them. Going in there almost felt like an intrusion to Havoc, and it wasn’t hard to tell that the others agreed.

Around supper time, Mustang managed to cajole Hawkeye upstairs for a shower, although she still looked shaken to Havoc’s eyes. Nothing else to be done, Havoc reheated Fuery’s soup again, and soon the four of them were eating supper. Footsteps caught their ears and Havoc looked up when Mustang appeared in the kitchen. He looked serious and grim as his eyes traveled over all of them. “When you’re finished,” he said, “come to the living room. She’s decided to tell you.”

With that he left, and Havoc exchanged looks with the others. The question of what, exactly, she was going to tell them hung over Havoc’s head, and, with her reaction, he wasn’t quite sure if he even wanted to finish dinner. Uneasy looks passed between all of them, assuring Havoc it wasn’t only him that was feeling uneasy about this. They all knew that Hawkeye had trauma. But it was one thing when it was war. It was another when it was a deep, traumatizing, childhood secret of a close friend, and it didn’t seem to sit well with anyone else either.

As they finished eating, they cleaned up the food, and Fuery took the time to fix a cup for tea before they left.

“For Riza,” he said softly, and Havoc couldn’t really fault him for that. She probably could use it no matter what.

They filed into the living room, Hawkeye and Mustang sitting once again on the couch. Havoc sat in a nearby chair, and the other men settled in as well. Hawkeye was in fresh clothes, this time what looked to be a button down of Mustangs, a blanket wrapped around her shoulders. Her hair was down, still looking a little damp. Mustang was right beside her, a hand on her arm. The rain outside poured in a steady sound, the fire crackled in the fireplace. The room almost had a feel of a confession to it, and it made Havoc uncomfortable.

Fuery handed Hawkeye the mug of tea before sitting down, and she took it with a murmured thanks, wrapping her hands around it, although she didn’t take a sip of it. And then, they waited.

And finally, Riza spoke.

“My father,” she said, the words feeling heavy, “was an alchemist. This you already know.”

It was something that they knew, but somehow this pronunciation of it seemed heavier to Havoc, as if there was a weight to it.

“I have few early memories of him. I think he loved me at one point, because I do remember him playing with me. But that all changed when mother died.”

No one said a word. Everyone was listening too closely. Havoc found it almost hard to breathe.

“When I was four, my mother died. I don’t remember her, not really. Just… associations. Music. Light. Laughter. Hugs. Flowers. Happiness. After she died, none of that existed anymore. Father threw himself into his work, and I was left behind. I often had to fend for myself, and I learned to take care of myself. Father didn’t care about me anymore.”

She turned the mug in her hands, her eyes staring at it, but not really seeming to see it. “I mentioned that when I broke that plate, I got my first thrashing. I was five. Father had been on a research bender. When he emerged from his study to find that, he was enraged. I couldn’t sit down for days without pain. That, I remember clearly.”

Havoc felt his jaw set. Breda was on the stool next to him, and Havoc could see the other man tense, although there was still a waiting look in his eyes. A realization entered Havoc’s mind. This wasn’t what had her begging in the basement for her father to stop. The thought made him sick. It had to be something worse than that, but what else could it be? Dark possibilities whispered at the corners of his mind. Whether he wanted to know or not, Havoc was going to find out what happened.

Riza continued. “I learned over the years to avoid my father after his research bends. He was always more volatile then. I also learned to fend for myself, to stay quiet, and not to bother father. He was a frightening man. I took care of the house, and of myself, and father took care of his studies. That was how we coexisted.”

She paused, looking down into the tea again. “Money was… sparse. We often did without. I learned to hunt, forage, and grow food. I traded up for chickens and a goat. I sold whatever I could just so we would have a little money that father wouldn’t completely spend on alchemy supplies. It was never enough, though.

One day, father started to take on apprentices. I quickly learned to avoid them, and that most of them wouldn’t last long. They never did. And then, one day, he took on a boy named Roy Mustang. To my surprise, he lasted.”

Havoc switched his attention to look up at Mustang. He could see him sitting there tightlipped, unhappy. He clearly wanted to do something, although what that something was, Havoc didn’t know. It honestly looked like Mustang himself didn’t know.

“Roy grew to be my father’s most talented pupil, and he wanted to share the secrets of his research with him—the secrets of Flame Alchemy.”

It wasn’t as if it wasn’t something that they hadn’t all guessed, but to hear Riza say that her father was the one who evented Flame Alchemy felt like a huge secret had just been dropped in their laps. There was some uncomfortable shifting, and Havoc exchanged a brief look with Breda.

“However,” she continued, “Roy made the decision to join the military instead and father, incensed, disavowed him and kicked him out. After that, father locked himself into the basement, and threw himself into his research in a frenzied way like I’d never seen before. I was afraid that he was going to die down in that basement.”

She paused to take in a breath, and then to swallow, and Havoc tensed up. Bad things were coming. He could feel it.

“I was on the verge of figuring out how to get down to him myself, when he finally opened the door and half collapsed on the stairs. I thought he was dead, and it frightened me, but some water and food revived him. Then he asked me a question that I thought I’d never hear: ‘My Riza, do you want to help me with my work? Can I trust you with it?’ and I, astonished at this, said yes.”

She let out a sardonic laugh and Havoc saw her hands tighten on the mug. “He wanted me. Me! He never wanted me. I was little more than a nuisance to him on a good day. But now he wanted me to help him with his research? He wanted to trust me with it? Of course, I said yes.”

Something about the way she said that sounded like a death sentence, but Havoc didn’t have time to focus on that, not when she was continuing.

“A couple of days later, he took me down to the basement, and he shut the door behind us.”

Havoc stilled.

“He sat me down on the table and gave me something to drink.”

His breath caught.

“It left me feeling groggy and tingly and out of it. And then he had me take off my shirt.”

Dread filled his chest, and the shake her voice made it worse.

“Once that was done, he had me lay down, with my bare back to him. He secured me in place with those ropes.”

Her voice was trembling, and Havoc felt his stomach roll.

“And then he began to draw on my back.”

Havoc blinked. What? What? That—that wasn’t what he was expecting. But from the catch in Hawkeye’s voice, there was something more serious about this then he realized—then any of them realized.

“For hours he drew out his array in perfect detail on my back. And then—”

She cut herself off and, after a pause, sat the untouched tea down. Her face was pained, and no one knew what she was about to do. She turned away from them, letting the blanket drop, and began to unbutton her shirt. Havoc knew he should look away, protect her privacy. He felt like he shouldn’t see whatever it was about to see, that it was something forbidden and dark. But he didn’t. He couldn’t. When her shirt dropped and her back was exposed, he felt his blood run cold and his stomach wanted to expel everything it had ever eaten. In horror, he looked over at the others, each of them looking just as horrified, none of them expecting this.

How could they have?

Covering her back, from the bottom of her neck past the small of her back, and stretching from side to side was a large, intricate, red tattoo, one that was clearly a more complicated version of Mustang’s array. And it was marred by heavy scars.

Her voice shook as she spoke, her back still facing them. “He began tattooing it on my back. I was fifteen, and he was my father. It hurt, it was painful, but I thought—I thought—”

Her voice broke, and they could see her shoulders shaking. “I thought he would love me,” She finally continued, and her voice broke Havoc’s heart. “I thought I was baring a great honor for him. I thought it was something that I could finally do for him. But he never cared for me, just his research and his array. I was still nothing to him, and there was nothing I could do about it. And there was nothing I could do to stop it from happening.”

There was bitterness in her voice, but also tears, and Havoc’s heart, broken thought it was, twisted inside him for her.

“About a year after it was completed, he died. Roy came back, and… I thought… I showed him the array, and he studied it. We thought we could help people with it. But… Ishval happened and I…”

It was clear that her emotions were getting the better of her, but she forged on, shaking her head. “I was the barer of flame alchemy,” her voice was shaking, but hard. It was emotional, but determined. “I chose who to give it to. And after that I swore that there would be no more flame alchemists. I asked Roy to burn it off of me. There could be no more flame alchemists. There couldn’t—I wouldn’t—”

A breath that sounded more like a sob escaped her, and she stopped talking. Her arms wrapped around herself as her shoulders shook, and Havoc could see her fingers digging into her elbows. Only her not-sobs, the pouring rain, and the crackling of the fire made any noise. No one knew what to say or what to do. It certainly explained a lot. It explained why Mustang and Hawkeye were so close. It explained why She was always wearing high necked things and refusing to wear things that showed her back. It explained why she always wore those turtlenecks under her uniform. It explained why she chose to stay with Mustang, so she could keep an eye on the flame alchemy that she had given him.

It’s explained her breakdown in the basement earlier, and why that place affected her the way it did.

The silence stretched, and finally Havoc, unable to stand it any further, pushed himself to his feet. He felt all eyes, except for Hawkeye’s, follow him. He ignored them, only focused on the woman in front of him. Without a word, he came to sit beside Hawkeye, on the other side of her, and reached out to her.

“Let’s get you put back together,” he said quietly, kindly, gently, as he reached out for the shirt. He carefully pulled it up and over her shoulders, guiding her arms back into it and doing up the buttons on it.

“Riza—listen carefully. We love you. We care about you. It doesn’t matter about your past or what you did, or how scared you were then. We still care about you.”

He reached up to gently pull her hair out of the collar line of the shirt.

“Thank you for explaining this to us. You’ve been through a lot more then I could have ever imagined, and at the hands of someone who should have fought to protect you, not sought to harm you. And what he did was harm. It harmed your mind and it harmed your body. But listen, Ri—you’ve got something so much better than that now. You’ve got us. And We’re not going to let anyone hurt you, or use you again, alright? I need you to believe and trust that. Can you?”

Hawkeye’s eyes were locked on his, tears glistening in her eyes. “You’d still… after all of…” she seemed to be struggling for words. “…You don’t think less of me?”

It was honestly not a question he had even considered, and she deserved to know as much. “Never, Riza,” he said. “I think you’re stronger than I ever imagined you were.”

She looked at him, a strange vulnerability in her eyes, something that made Havoc think about his young nieces and nephews, when they knew they had done something wrong that they were sorry for and were waiting for confirmation that they were still loved. Havoc was struck, then, that this was a glimpse into child-Riza, waiting to hear that someone, somewhere, cared about her, herself, who she was, and without condition. It was something that never received then.

Havoc would give it to her now.

“I could never think less of you, Riza.”

They were honest words, spoken as honestly as he could say them. He could tell that she believed him, but she still looked out at the others, uncertainty in her eyes.

No one in the team showed the slightest hesitation in what they said.

Breda nodded and stood, taking a couple of steps closer to her. His hand rested on her shoulder. “It makes me think less of your father. But you? Never, Riza.”

Falman stood as well, coming closer. “Few people could survive what you did as intact as you are. I’m amazed. It makes me think more of you.”

Fuery was already on his feet, crossing over to them, reaching out to take her hand. “Nothing could make me think less of you. I’m in awe, if anything.”

She blinked at them, as if surprised, and looked over to Mustang, who just smiled at her. Havoc squeezed her hand, and her gaze turned back to him.

“You were hurt, Riza, and we can’t do anything about that,” he said. “But you are loved and cared about and valued for who you are now. We’re your family, Riza, and nothing will change that. Nothing at all.”

She was shaking under their hands, as her face started to crumple. She raised a hand to her eyes as she could no longer contain her tears. But these tears, they had the feel of something cleansing, something good. Havoc reached out, and pulled her close, like he had that night on the roof, and let her cry herself out on him again. When she was finished, she wiped at her eyes. They were red, her cheeks splotchy, her hair a bit messy, but Havoc didn’t care. He didn’t think anyone did.

“Th-thank you,” she said to them, emotion still in her voice. “I… thank you.”

For a moment there was silence, until Mustang softly spoke up. “it’s late,” he said. “And it’s been a long day. Why don’t we all go to bed?”

No one objected, and one at a time they took their turn for the shower. Havoc was toweling off his hair when he passed by Riza’s room. He glanced in, and saw her sitting on the bed by herself, that stuffed yellow rabbit in her hands. Havoc figured that Mustang must be in the shower. He wouldn’t have left her alone otherwise. Still, Havoc didn’t say anything. He knew that Riza was aware of him. But he wasn’t going to push his presence on her. Instead, he stood in the doorway, waiting for her to either acknowledge him or for Mustang to come back. He could be patient either way.

“You know,” she said after a few moments, “I don’t think you know how much your words meant to me.” Her voice was soft in a way that Havoc seldom heard it. “I’m, in general, a confident adult. But there are still things that get to me, or that crop up no matter how many years have passed.” She paused again, her fingers rubbing the ears of that that rabbit. “I often feel like I have to prove myself or earn my place—earn that people care about me. I know I don’t, but I still feel that way. I tried to prove myself to Father all my life. I let him brand me, thinking that it would earn me his love. But nothing was ever good enough.”

She looked up at him. “…you love so easily. And what you and the men said tonight… You saw me weak, at probably my weakest, and yet…” she looked back down at the rabbit. “… it means more then you know, what you all said.”

His heart ached for her, and he walked in sitting beside her on the bed. For a moment, he didn’t say anything either, gathering his words. “You shouldn’t have to earn anyone’s love, Riza,” he said, “but you never have to earn mine. I’m certain that you never have to earn the other guys’ love either.” He put an arm around her shoulders and pulled her in, giving her a kiss on the head, similar to that night on the roof. “I don’t know if it’s still hard for you to accept or not, but we do love you. Nothing you do will take that away, alright? Nothing in your past, nothing at all.”

She sighed and leaned into him. “I’ll try my best to remember that.”

“We’ll remind you,” he said. “As much as you need it.”

She said nothing, but just stayed leaning against him. Havoc didn’t say anything either, just let them both be. They stayed that way until Mustang came back, and then Havoc left them together. He saw Mustang reaching out to her, and her curling into his arms as he shut the door. Good. They were what each other needed tonight.

Havoc made his way down the hall towards the room he and Breda were sharing, pausing at the stairs. Falman and Fuery were already in their room. Did he hear something? He paused to listen again, but heard nothing, and so shrugged and went on. This place was old and drafty, and Hayate was somewhere down there. He was probably just hearing the dog.

Havoc kept going and entered their room, shutting the door and changing. Breda was already in the bed, although it was clear he wasn’t asleep. Havoc didn’t think anything of it, and so was startled when Breda’s voice, quiet, but intense, broke their silence.

“Did you know?” he asked.

“Know what?” Havoc said.

“About… about all of that. What we learned tonight.” Breda said.

Havoc shook his head and sat on the bed. “No. Not at all. I suspected that her father was abusive and neglectful, but I never thought about something like that.”

“Who would have thought about something like that?” Breda spat out.

“Her father, apparently,” Havoc replied.

“Yeah.” They both fell quiet, and then Breda spoke again, his voice full of anger. “How?” he said. “How could he do that? And to his own daughter? Just treat her like—like—like a notepad! Like some sort of journal, he could lock away!” He was struggling not to explode in anger, and Havoc couldn’t really blame him. “She was his daughter! And he took advantage of her, mutilated her for his own good! What did he think was going to happen to her? She’d never be able to do so many things. What if she got married one day? How was she supposed to explain that to her husband?”

“Do you really think he would have just let her get married?” Havoc said. “If he did, it probably would have been just to someone he knew, or maybe even an apprentice, and all it would have been, was an arranged marriage. She’d have been just as used.”

Breda’s jaw worked. “You’re right,” he said. “And none of this is right. I just—” he shook his head. “I don’t know what to think, Hav. This whole thing…”

“Yeah,” Havoc agreed, and sighed heavily. “I think… I think it’s one of those things we’re just going to have to acknowledge and figure out how to deal with. There’s nothing we can do to change it.”

Breda was silent, and then just shook his head, rolling over. “It’s amazing she’s as adjusted as she is,” he said, and that seemed to be the end of the conversation for him.

Havoc didn’t push, but he couldn’t help but turn thoughts over in his own head that night as he struggled for sleep.

The next day, when Havoc woke and went downstairs, he wasn’t surprised to find Hawkeye down there already, working on breakfast. She looked at him, a little uncertain, but he just gave her an easy smile. “Hey, Ri,” he said. “What’s for breakfast this morning?”

That seemed to put her at ease, and she turned back to the food. “The usual. Eggs, Bacon, biscuits, coffee.”

“Whatcha need help with?” he asked.

“If you could start on the bacon, that would be helpful,” she replied.

He eased into helping her, starting on the bacon, and when Fuery came down a little bit later he jumped right into helping them out. The more normal they seemed to act, the more at ease Hawkeye seemed to become. Every time someone new came down the stairs, Havoc saw her tense a little, as if she expected something from them. Every time they treated her normally, she seemed to relax a little more. By the time Mustang came down the stairs, she was pretty much at ease.

Breakfast was an easy affair, giving them all time to relax and wake up. It couldn’t last, though, not with everything that needed to be talked about. Havoc glanced around the cleared off table where they were all sitting. Hawkeye and Mustang were sitting on one side, side by side. Breda was across from them, serious. Havoc set beside his best friend, leaning back in his chair even as Fuery and Falman took places at the ends. It was clear that Breda was going to take command of this questioning, even if it was equally as clear that he didn’t want to interrogate Hawkeye or Mustang. The need couldn’t be denied, though, which they all understand from a tactical point of view.

“Alright, first things first,” Breda said, focused on Hawkeye. “I know that you said that Mustang burned off the most important information, but how much can still be gained from your tattoo, if someone got ahold of it?”

Havoc could hear then implied “of you,” in the question, but, just like Breda, he shied away from that thought.

Hawkeye glanced at Mustang, who was the one who answered. Havoc supposed that made sense. Mustang would have more of an alchemic knowledge and was the one to burn the tattoo.

“Depends on the alchemist,” he said. “It would have to be a highly trained alchemist. Most of what I left were either common or things that people have come up with in the past. The part that draws them together into flame alchemy isn’t there.” His eyes met Breda’s staying steady, although the slight movement of his arm told Havoc that he was holding Hawkeye’s hand under the table. “If someone had the information that’s still on Hawkeye’s back, had access to some of the rare books here, and had the time to study it, then they might be able to figure out flame alchemy. However, there would have to be a lot of things come together for someone to understand what I left.”

Breda nodded. “Alright.” His eyes returned to Hawkeye. “The burns. Do they cause you any physical problems?”

Havoc shifted his eyes to Hawkeye. “They can get tight,” she said, “And painful. I have a special lotion I rub into them, but it’s hard to do it myself. The scars are hard to reach due to their positioning. Roy helps me with it sometimes, and occasionally someone else that knows about it does as well.” She paused. “The deepest parts of the burns, near the center, don’t have any feeling. It’s never been a problem before, but it is something to note. And there is a small amount of contracture that happened when the burns healed. I’m slightly less flexible on my left side then I am on my right, although it’s never caused me any real problems.”

Breda nodded. “Alright. One more question. You said that there were others who know. Who? And are they trustworthy?”

“Yes,” Hawkeye said, and there was no hesitation in her voice. “Rebecca Catalina knows,” she said. Havoc found himself surprised, although he supposed that he shouldn’t have been. “She and I were roommates and the academy. She found out then and kept it a secret for me. Maes Hughes knew. He found out on the battlefield. Roy’s aunt knows. She found out when Roy burned me and helped to care for me while I was healing. Dr. Knox knows as well. He helped to provide care after the burning as well as a few times in Ishval.”

They were grisly answers, at least to Havoc’s mind, but Breda just nodded. “Alright. Thank you, Hawkeye.” He paused. “You… will tell Catalina that we know, won’t you.” It wasn’t a question.

She nodded, a hint of a smile playing on her lips. “Of course. If I didn’t, and she found out that you knew, she’d be likely to shoot you first and ask questions later.”

She wasn’t wrong about that. “Well,” Havoc said, “you’ve got four more people to watch your back now—pun not intended,” he added at Breda’s dirty look. “Anything that we need to know about what we can do for you?”

Hawkeye gave him a grateful smile and paused, turning it over in her mind. “If I’m desperate, I might ask one of you to help put the lotion on my scars. But for the most part, just make sure that my back stays covered up. I don’t want to show this off, I don’t want to hint at it. The few times someone’s managed to catch a glimpse, I’ve been able to brush it off as scars from the war that I don’t want to talk about, but I’d rather not rely on that too much. I don’t want anyone to think there’s anything on my back. So, if something happens to my shirt, please just make sure that my back stays covered.”

She looked around at all of them, and they nodded. Havoc couldn’t speak for the others, but he’d literally take the shirt off of his back for her. The questioning wasn’t over, though, and Havoc could see it in Breda’s face. He braced himself for more questions that he really wished didn’t have to be asked.

“Another pressing question. How did you end up in the basement?” Breda asked.

They all stilled at that question, looking over at Hawkeye, who had her brow furrowed. “I’ll be honest. The panic that followed afterwards has dulled a lot of the memory. What I told you yesterday is still what I remember. I heard something and wondered if it was Havoc or Hayate. The basement door was open, and I went to close it and I was pushed. I tried to get out, but I couldn’t. I tried pushing on the door, and then I went down into the basement to try to find something to help me, but I was already starting to panic by then.” Her brow furrowed as she thought. “I remember that I didn’t see anything that could, but after that everything turns into a haze of panic and distress and memories.” There was a slight note of something in her voice, and Havoc saw Mustang’s other hand come over to hold hers, to provide some stability.

Hawkeye took a couple of breaths, trying to regain control, and Havoc wished there was something that he could do. After a few moments, she looked back up at them, her eyes serious. “This could be wrong, and just my panic playing tricks on me, but… I almost feel like there was someone down there with me. I can’t tell you who it was, or even if it was real, but it might be relevant.”

“Yeah, it might be,” Breda said. He glanced at Falman. “Falman and I went back to look at the lock after you had calmed. Mustang had taken it out of the door and wall with alchemy. The whole mechanism as out and we could see it clearly. It was locked from both sides.”

“Both sides?” Hawkeye said, shocked.

“That explains why I couldn’t get it open,” Mustang said, although his grip tightened on Hawkeye’s hand

“But that doesn’t make sense,” Hawkeye said. “I wouldn’t have locked myself in there, and there’s no other way in or out of the basement.”

Breda leaned forward. “Are you sure, Hawkeye?” he asked. “We got to thinking about it, and there is no outer entrance to your basement. Given the age of the house, there should be.”

“Actually,” Falman said. “Given the era I think that this house was built in, as well as its size and clearly former stateliness, there should not only have been an outer entrance to your basement, but also a fireplace to help funnel heat up and into the rest of the house. I did some looking around, and I think the possibility of it once having been there exists.”

Both Hawkeye and Mustang blinked at Falman in surprise. Then, abruptly, Hawkeye stood up. “Come with me,” she said and, although it was directed at Falman, Havoc found himself curious enough to follow.

He wasn’t the only one, and then all followed her up the backstairs and to the attic. She only stopped to grab a lamp so that they would be able to see. Once there she handed the lamp off to Fuery and began rummaging through things.

“What are you looking for?” Havoc asked her.

“The last time we were up here, do you remember a large cache of papers and documents? Some were in document tubes. We had to look through them for alchemy notes.”

Havoc blinked. “Yeah, I do. I think…” he moved to help her. “I think we put them somewhere over here.”

She nodded, and they started rummaging through things. Finally, after a moment, she came up with a portfolio that had what seemed to be photographs, papers, and other things stuffed into it, as well as a couple of document tubes.

“This,” she said, “is a collection of items about the house. I don’t know if there are any blueprints in here, but titles, deeds, work orders, photographs, and paintings exist in all of this. Apparently, before my father, if not before my grandfather, the Hawkeyes were fairly conscientious about money. I never had any reason to look at these before, but now maybe…”

Falman looked eager to get his hands on the documents “Can we take them downstairs?” he asked. “There’s more room down there. We can go over them down there and see what we can learn.”

“Of course,” Hawkeye said, and Falman reached and took some of the load from her.

“So if there is an entrance down there, how come we never saw it?” Fuery asked, holding the lamp he had been given up so everyone could see.

“It could have been sealed up a long time ago,” Falman offered.

“But then how come we haven’t seen any recent signs of it?” he pressed.

Mustang was rubbing his chin. “I want to go over that basement with a fine-toothed comb.” He looked over at Hawkeye. “I also want to start a watch. We’ll start standing guard at night to see if anything happens. Fuery,”

“Yes sir?” Fuery asked.

“Get that phone connected. I want a line of communication open and available, just in case.” Mustang said.

“Yes, sir!” Fuery said.

Mustang glanced at the rest of the men. “As for us—try not to go anywhere alone. Make sure that someone knows where you’re going to be at all times.” He looked at Falman. “Either take someone with you when you go out to do your observations, or make sure someone knows exactly where you’re going to be and when you plan to be back.” He looked at Havoc and Hawkeye. “Make sure that you two are careful when you go out to hunt.” He focused in on Hawkeye. ��We don’t know if this was a targeted attack, or if Hawkeye just happened to be in the way, but I’m not taking any chances. We’re going to act as if there’s the chance of an enemy in our midst. I want you all to be careful. Do you understand me?”

There was a collective straightening and saluting, followed by heels snapping together. “Sir!” they all responded.

Havoc knew that he, for one, was going to be watching over Hawkeye carefully.

Orders given, Falman and Hawkeye poured over the items in what they had brought down from the attic, searching for any indication of an outer door to the basement, that the basement had once been bigger, or that there had been a fireplace in the basement at one point. Fuery immediately started the inside work that would be needed for the phone, while Mustang, Breda, and Havoc went down into the basement to start searching.

Havoc was not happy to be back in that basement. Unlike the first time, when Mustang had been squirrelly about him being down there, he instead let him look over anything without complaint. Havoc knew the story of it now, and it made him uncomfortable. He looked at the table, not able to see it or the rings in it the same way now. Knowing that a teenaged Hawkeye had been drugged and strapped down to that table by her father, and then tattooed for hours on end—and it had to have been hours, looking at that tattoo. That was not a one session thing. That took many sessions and lots of hours—it made him feel a little sick. He glanced at Breda, who was looking at the table in a similar way, his jaw set into a grim line.

Still, Mustang was managing to focus in and get to work down here, which couldn’t have been easy for the man, considering the woman he loved had been essentially tortured and branded in this basement. So, if he could do that, then Havoc would manage for Hawkeye as well—Even if he was disgusted by the idea of everything that happened down here and wanted to burn it all down.

“So, what are we looking for, Boss?” Havoc asked, forcing the question out of his mouth.

Mustang didn’t bother to look at him, examining the room instead. “Any signs of alchemy. That’s the only way I can think that someone would have gotten in and out of here so quickly and without leaving any signs. Either that, or there’s a hidden door, but I don’t think that’s as likely.”

Havoc noted, he didn’t say that it was impossible. “Got it. Although it’s going to be hard considering all the alchemy you did down here last time while we were looking for that research.”

Breda glanced at him, startled, but didn’t say anything.

“Yeah,” Mustang said. “But we’ve got to try. Look to see if there’s disrupted patterns to the alchemic marks that were left behind. That might indicate newer alchemy.

“Got it.”

They fell quiet, each man looking over and examining the walls. Havoc honestly wasn’t sure how they would have missed anything as big as a false wall or a hidden door last time, considering the way that Mustang had gone over the walls, but something had happened down here. They had to look.

After a few minutes of silence, Mustang spoke up.

“So… you know Hawkeye’s secret now.” He didn’t even glance at them. “What are you going to do about it?”

“I’m going to regret that her father’s not alive so I can punch him in the face,” Breda said rather bluntly. Not that Havoc could blame him. He’d like to punch her father too.

“Since I can’t do that, I suppose I’ll do what I can to support Hawkeye,” Havoc said. “It answered some questions about why she’s so careful about her back and all. I just thought it was some weird modestly thing, but now I get it.” He wished it was just some weird modesty thing, honestly.

“…What would someone do?” Breda asked. “If they found out, I mean. Could they really gain any knowledge from it?”

Mustang paused in his examination. “About flame alchemy itself? No, not without it being intact, not easily. A skilled alchemist could probably figure a great deal of it out. I have no doubt that the Elrics could, if they wanted to, for example. But not every alchemist could get enough information off of it. It’s not slight against his intelligence, but I don’t think that Armstrong could, or even Marcoh. It’s… complicated. Complex. It’s not something easily arrived at, or even easily grasped. For Master Hawkeye to have developed it at all…” Mustang shook his head. “It’s truly amazing. Unfortunately, it’s only in retrospect that I understood why he was so against me having it if I was going to be in the military.”

“What was he like?” Havoc asked. “Her father, I mean.”

Mustang frowned and crouched to look at a spot on the wall. “He was taller than she is, with slightly darker hair that hung in his face. He had a hooked nose, and cold, cold eyes. He was pale from being inside all the time. And he was exacting. Demanding. If you didn’t meet his standards, he was ready to get rid of you. He had little use for people that didn’t meet his standards.”

He paused. “He was a cold man as well. Praise from him was hard-won, and he was not a patient man. The only thing he cared about was alchemy, and there were days where he would focus on nothing else, writing and researching in a mad frenzy.”

He looked up at them from where he had crouched. “If you’re asking how he treated Riza when she was young, harshly is putting it lightly. He never cared when she came with bruises or cuts. He never helped her with her work. He expected that she keep the house in good order and have food ready to go. He expected that she would get high marks in school. Once, when she came home with mediocre marks, he hit her face hard enough to bruise, called her stupid, and told her that if she was going to be too stupid to do alchemy, then she should at least be smart enough to do well with the lesser knowledge they were teaching her in school. She worked herself even harder after that to try to bring her grades up. They came up, but he never praised her, never acknowledged her. The most he did was not hit her.”

Breda cursed under his breath, and Havoc shook his head. “Roy…” he said slowly, falling back on informality, “when we were here last time, you sent Ri out of the upstairs study, and then you burned a piece of paper. You said that there was nothing good to be found there. What was on that piece of paper?”

Mustang’s tensed, his face hardened, and his jaw worked, but after a moment, he finally spoke. “It was a formula,” he said, “for human transmutation. But it used another soul to pay the toll to bring someone back. And it was designed to use a child.”

Havoc’s blood ran cold and Breda dropped what he was doing.

“Wait a minute,” Breda said. “Are you saying—are you saying that her father—”

Mustang’s jaw clenched. “I am. He had a formula worked out for how he would sacrifice his own daughter’s life, her soul, to bring back his wife.”

Both Breda and Havoc looked at Mustang, horror on their faces. Havoc knew what it meant to do a human transmutation. They all knew the costs and the consequences. It was horrible enough on its own. But to use a living person as the toll for someone else’s life, and for that someone to be his own daughter? It was unthinkable.

Breda cursed aloud this time, and Havoc felt his stomach turn. He might just go out the barn after this and smoke, just because he didn’t know how else to react to this information.

“Does she know?” he finally asked.

Mustang shook his head. “No. Or if she does, she’s never said anything. But I refuse to be the one to tell her. For all of the awful things he did, he was still her father, and she was still loyal to him. She still wanted his love, and there’s a part of her that still wishes she had had it, even though she knows what a terrible person he was. I’m not going to destroy the last hope she has by showing her something that proves how worthless she was to him. I can’t do that to her.”

Havoc wished he had something to stick in his mouth. A toothpick, a piece of hay, anything. “Yeah,” he said. “I get that.”

“We won’t say a word,” Breda said.

Mustang just nodded, and they got back to work. But Havoc, for all of his shock, could see the weariness in Mustang’s movements, and the outright anger in Breda’s. He himself was angry, but it was overridden by a deep sorrow. How lonely must little Hawkeye’s life had been, with a father that thought of her as little more then something to be used?

Havoc didn’t have any kids of his own, but he had plenty of nieces and nephews. He loved every single one of them and he’d do anything to protect them. He’d give up his legs again to protect them. He’d have protected them from his wheelchair, if the need had arisen! And they were just his nieces and nephews. An important relationship to be sure, but not as important as parent and child. He couldn’t imagine doing anything to hurt them. How could Hawkeye’s father have been so cruel as to treat his own daughter as a consumable? How could he have only seen her as something to use?

Underneath her hard exterior, Hawkeye had a gentle heart. It was soft, and forgiving, and full of care and love. He could imagine a little Hawkeye with shinning eyes and a big smile running up to her father with all the love in the world for him. With gifts and trinkets and all of the things that kids do. What would she have been like, if he had just loved her in return? If that gentle heart of hers had been allowed to bloom and grow? If it hadn’t been stomped on by her father, by other people, by Ishval? Where would her steely resolve, compassion, and gentle heart have taken her?

How? How could her father have done all of this to her?

Havoc had to get his mind off of all of this, or he’d end up marching straight up the stairs and hugging Hawkeye right now. She wouldn’t like it. She wasn’t normally too opposed to hugs, and he had a bit of a pass, being a pretty close friend and all, but she’d know that this one came from the knowledge of her childhood, and she’d take it as more of an insult then as compassion. She didn’t want to be pitied, and he couldn’t blame her for that. Not when it was obvious that she fought so hard to survive and to make her own path in the world. He wouldn’t take that away from her.

So, instead of going upstairs to make Hawkeye feel upset with him, and with herself, he turned his attention back to the task at hand—namely, looking for any signs of either a hidden door, or of alchemy that would indicate that someone had been through here recently. So far, he wasn’t having any luck, but that didn’t mean that there wasn’t something that they had overlooked last time.

He knew the signs of alchemy. He’d been alchemist adjacent for so long that by now he ought to have learned something of it. It didn’t mean that he always caught things, or that there weren’t things he just didn’t know to look for, but he wasn’t incompetent. However, he knew that it would honestly be best if Mustang went over the area with a more critical gaze after he finished. He and Breda knew that was what they were here for anyway. They were the first level of search. Mustang would be the next level. It only made sense.

It did make him wonder, though, that, if Hawkeye could stand it down here, if it wouldn’t be better fpr her to help search. She had an above average amount of knowledge. He’d seen her correct the Elrics on simple mistakes before, or act as an intelligent sounding board for them. She had plenty of alchemic knowledge of her own. It all begged another question.

“Say—why isn’t Riza an alchemist?” he asked, still working as he did. “She’s got a good knowledge base for it, right?”

He didn’t turn around or stop, and it sounded like neither of the others did either. He wasn’t sure if it was because they were trying to get through as quickly as possible, or because they were all avoiding emotions.

“She’s got a knowledge base that is well above average,” Mustang said. “She can follow the basics of a lot of high-level alchemy, sometimes more. But except what I taught her, none of that was taught to her. It’s what she’s picked up here and there along the way. It got a lot of gaps and holes in the practical application of it.”

“Yeah, but why?” Havoc pressed. “If all her father cared about was alchemy, I’d think that she’d want to become an alchemist, or that he’d have taught her.”

Mustang was quiet for a moment. “She did,” he said. “I saw her reading alchemy books when she was a child. But it was always in secret and she never, ever, tried. When I asked her why, once, she just shook her head and said that she didn’t have a mind for it.”

There was silence for a moment.

“That’s bullcrap,” Breda said. “Hawkeye is one of the smartest people I know. She could learn it if she wanted too.”

Mustang sighed. “From what I understand, her father did try to teach it to her, once. She was too young to understand most of the concepts, and, when he pushed her to try, she failed. Master Hawkeye wasn’t always very good at explaining things either, especially not when he thought that you should already know or understand something, if its something that, to him, seems simple.” He paused again. “…She won’t talk about it much,” he said quietly, “But I picked up on the idea that when she couldn’t get it, he grew frustrated and beat her.”

Now Havoc did look over at Mustang, and he noticed Breda did too. Mustang was looking back at them. He looked angry, but like it was an old anger that was there, one that he had long ago had to learn to live with.

“How old was she?” Breda asked.

Mustang shook his head. “No more than five or six.”

Havoc sucked in a breath and was suddenly glad that he didn’t have anything between his lips, because he would have inhaled it. Five or six. That was the same age as his niece Libby. Sweet Libby with the braid and the million-watt smile, who loved to hug him around his neck and bring him flowers and play adventures in the tall grass. If her dad every tried to beat her (which he wouldn’t, he was a good man), Havoc would kill him in a heartbeat if it meant saving her. To imagine something like that happening to Hawkeye at the same age filled him with a horrifying sinking feeling.

Breda cursed again, and Mustang turned back to his work.

“It left a lasting impression on her, one I don’t even think she realizes is there, or doesn’t care enough to bother with. I’ve tried to teach her alchemy before, over the years. She has enough knowledge of theory that she could easily do simple transmutations. But there’s a mental block there. No matter what I’ve tried, she can’t do the practical application of it. And I don’t think she really wants to. She’ll try, because I ask her to, but after that? She doesn’t care to. I honestly think she could have been a decent alchemist if it wasn’t for that mental block that was left from her father’s one and only attempt to teach her.”

Breda shook his head again. “That’s… I don’t even have the words for it.” He looked back up towards the ceiling, and then over at the table before quickly looking away from it. “How has she managed to function as well as she does?”

Mustang let out a sigh. “I don’t know. But I do know that what happened to her in her childhood, those experiences allowed her to survive being under Selim’s observation and not able to have a moment to herself.”

“Yeah, but she was so thin by the end of it, and her body exhausted,” Havoc said.

“I know,” Mustang said. “You should have seen her when we first met. She was a thin thing. I always assumed it was because of the lack of food, and the way that she always made sure to give bigger portions to her father and to me than she did to herself. But now I wonder if it also wasn’t the stress of living under her father.”

Havoc shifted uncomfortably. This dive into Hawkeye’s childhood was uncomfortable at the least. It revealed a lot about her, and it explained a lot about her too. But it also felt like prying, and he could see Breda shifting a bit uncomfortably too. The silence stretched on for a while longer, until Mustang let out another sigh.

“Come on. Let’s keep working.”

They worked without finding anything until Falman called down to let them know that supper was ready. They hadn’t quite finished, but they came up anyway, Havoc just then realizing how hungry he was. Hawkeye and Falman still had photographs and paintings spread all over the dining room table, but the kitchen table was free and the other three were in there. Fuery was stirring some pots, and Falman was setting out the plates and cutlery. Riza was tasting something and adding a little more spice to it.

“What’s this?” Mustang said, a bit of teasing in his voice. “And here I thought we were all busy working.”

“We were, sir,” Fuery said, “But I’ve done all the work I can from the inside. I thought I would start dinner.”

“And to be honest, I needed a break,” Hawkeye said. “I didn’t mind helping Kain out.”

Truth be told, Havoc thought that she still did look a little tired, and he couldn’t blame her much for that. Honestly, he was still amazed that she was managing as well as she was—and that she had managed as well as she did the first time they came here. If he had had a past like hers, he would have been more likely to burn the place down then to ever return to it. Something good must have come at some point, though, enough to override the bad. Otherwise, he doubted that she would be here and working as well as she was.

Of course, she had support her with her now. That had to make a difference. She certainly hadn’t had support as a child, and then only Mustang for support when she was a bit older, until he had left. It had to have been hard. Now, though, she had the five of them, plus Hayate. Hopefully it made a difference to her. Still, if she was tired, he found it completely understandable.

Over dinner, the group discussed what they had discovered so far. It was a strike out on all fronts. The only one who had any luck had been Fuery, and that was because he wasn’t searching for anything, just setting up a phone. They returned to their respective tasks after supper, Fuery offering to clean up, but no one had any luck then, either.

However, at lights out, one thing was agreed upon. They needed to set up watches. None of them, Havoc knew, had gotten this far by not being at least a little paranoid—and they had plenty to be paranoid about right now. Alarms and traps were set, and one at a time they took turns taking watch. Havoc roamed the house on his, Hayate accompanying him. It actually worked out well for him, Havoc found, as the walking helped the ache in his legs. Downstairs he could walk as much as he wanted to. Nothing happened on his watch, and after he woke up to walk Falman for his turn, Havoc fell into bed and slept well.

When morning dawned, Havoc was, as usual one of the first ones up. Hawkeye was already awake, but instead of working on breakfast, she was standing in the dinning room, frowning over the document and pictures.

“Mornin’,” Havoc greeted, but frowned at her frown. “What are you looking at?”

“The documents,” she said. “I think they’ve been moved.”

Havoc’s head snapped towards hers. “Are you sure?”

“Pretty sure,” she said. “Well need Falman to be able to tell us for sure.”

“Tell us what?” Fuery asked, coming into the dining room with them.

“Hawk thinks some of the documents were disturbed,” Havoc said.

All of the sleep in Fuery was gone at that statement. “What?”

Hawkeye shook her head. “Let’s get breakfast started. When Falman wakes up, we’ll ask him to take a look. It isn’t likely that whoever bothered these is still here this morning.”

“Right,” Havoc said, but his frown didn’t leave. Hawkeye wasn’t typically wrong about things like this. Someone or something had been down here, and Havoc doubted that it was Hayate or rats messing with the documents.

Hawkeye was tense as they prepared breakfast. She seemed especially uncomfortable with the confirmation that someone had been in the house, and Havoc found it understandable. So much of herself had already been revealed to them, even without her permission. He didn’t blame her at all for being a little squirrelly about this situation.

When Falman came down the stairs, he was immediately directed towards the dining room where he confirmed that yes, the documents had been disturbed and, even more concerning, that there were items missing. Breda and Mustang came down the stairs just a moment later, and Havoc could hear Hawkeye telling them what they had found. Mustang ordered them all to eat a quick breakfast, and then start a thorough sweep of the house—with the exception of Falman, who’s job it was to determine what in the documents was missing.

There was no dallying at the breakfast table this morning, and the sweep began with thirty minutes of them all being awake. It was a slow, thorough sweep, starting on the first level and working their way up. Nothing was left unturned or untested. Furniture, rugs, walls, they examined all of them.

Which, honestly, brought Havoc to a question.

“Hey, boss—we looked through every nook and cranny of this place the last time we were here. Don’t you think we’d have found something by now if something was hidden or locked or whatever?”

The last time they were here, Mustang had looked into the walls and the floors to see if they contained any hidden research. They had, of course, turned up blind, with nothing to show, but it was what they had done. If there had been any hidden passages to find, wouldn’t they have found them then?

“If it was added after we left, or was something cleverly hidden, I may not have noticed it,” Mustang said. “I wasn’t focused on looking for secret doors after all. I was focused on any notes her that her father might have left behind.”

“Right,” Havoc said. “Still, if there were something up here, I would have thought that we would have found at least a trace of it.”

Mustang frowned. “Yeah. Me too.”

The search continued with very little found. There were no overt signs of an intruder, although there were little things that none of them had thought about before, like bottles being moved or curtains being opened, that none of them had done, but had happened all the same. All signs pointed to someone being in the house.

The intruder didn’t appear to have been on the second floor or the attic yet, and Mustang made sure that the backstairs to both would be impassible for the time being. It would give them only one way up the stairs to guard, which was useful. Of course, the possibility of alchemy being used to take down what he put up was a consideration, and Hawkeye and Fuery rigged several traps that, quite frankly, Havoc was certain he didn’t want to mess with.

By the time dinner came around that night, they were all tired, but still determined. They resolved to leave nothing downstairs, and then started swapping stories of anything odd or unusual that they had encountered over their stay here. Some, of course, were immediately discounted when someone admitted to moving or doing something themselves. Havoc recalled some odd things that he had seen in the barn that he had attributed to the horses or to other animals escaping from the rains, and Falman reported on a few odd things he had seen outside. By themselves, and without suspicion, they really wouldn’t have been things to worry about. But Mustang’s team was good with suspicion, Havoc knew, as it had saved their own lives more than once, and the lives of the country, too.

And still the rain fell outside.

They all went to bed on high alert, ready to snap awake and to action at the slightest provocation. The days of pouring rain and tense moments felt like they were building up to something to Havoc, although he had no idea what they were building up to. All he knew was that it felt like everything was building up to something big, and something important.

The next few days were met with little change. With the thunder and the rain, there wasn’t much else they could do. Fuery said it was too dangerous to try to hook up the phone in a lightning storm. He was just as likely to get hit and killed then he was to get the phone hooked up, and no one wanted that. Falman still went out and made his observations, checking the garden and the orchard for food. Breda and Mustang resupplied their wood pile and secured the grounds as best they could. Havoc and Hawkeye went out hunting, bringing back what kill they could to sustain them throughout these long and tense days.

The unchanging days, however, provide some opportunities for conversations, whether they were conversations that either party wanted to have or not. Havoc, usually moving about the house to try and help his aching legs, overheard a number of these.

The first one he overheard was between Hawkeye and Breda. They were still taking care of the bulk of the laundry, and Havoc overheard them talking when he was passing through the kitchen one day.

“—not trying to be insensitive, Riza, but I do have a few questions for you.”

Riza sighed. “Go ahead, Heymans. I figured someone would. I should have expected this.”

Havoc could hear the sounds of them continuing to work on the washing while they talked.

“You told us about who had seen your tattoo,” Breda said. “But were there any others?”

Hawkeye sounded a bit confused when she answered. “No. I told you the entire list.”

“That’s it?” Breda pressed. “What about… well… boyfriends and the like?”

There was a beat of silence. “Heymans, there were no boyfriends. When I was living at home, I didn’t dare bring a boy home, even if there was one that would have braved my father’s wrath. My father was a frightening man, and for good reason. And when I joined the academy, boys were the last thing on my mind. It may have been the military, but it was my first taste of freedom and I didn’t want to be tied down by anything or anyone.”

“Right,” Heymans said, and although the answer might have sounded trite to some, Havoc knew better. It was simply him acknowledging her words. “I know that Mustang said that there wasn’t likely to be any alchemist who could learn Flame Alchemy off of your tattoo now, but could they learn anything else?”

Another pause. “I’m not entirely sure,” she admitted. “It’s hard to see my back, and I’m no alchemist. But I think that there are still some basic principles that could be gained from it.” She paused. “I wanted the whole thing gone, but he refused. He was probably right, in the end, but I wanted to be freed from this burden all together.”

“Yeah,” Breda said, and there was a note of understanding in his voice. “Alright, you mentioned that there was some contracture. How much and does it impact anything?”

Havoc heard the sound of something being put down, and someone standing up. And then, after a moment, Hawkeye’s voice. “Not much. As you can see, I can reach a little bit further with my right arm then my left arm, but t’s not enough to truly impact anything. So far, the only thing it’s impacted has been a few moments in training, and I compensated for those. I don’t think anyone even noticed.”

“I didn’t,” Breda admitted. “Okay, any other ailments or problems that stem from that tattoo?”

Hawkeye was quiet for a moment, and Havoc could hear her sitting back down and picking up her washing again. “Well, most of the time it isn’t a problem, but if I don’t have my head about me, then it can be. I’m not fond of needles,” she said, and Havoc winced. Yeah, he bet she wasn’t, and he could hear the awkward shifting of Breda as he likely came to the same realization as Havoc. Hawkeye kept going. “If I have my head about me, it’s about a 60/40 chance that the needle is going to bother me. Me reacting to it is an even bigger difference. But if I have some sort of addling or I’ve been unconscious, then do tend to react poorly to needles in general.”

“Yeah… that makes sense,” Breda said, although it was clear to Havoc he was a little disturbed by the notion.

“It does,” she continued, as if she hadn’t heard it at all. “I also have a problem with being held down sometimes. Even with someone I trust, it’s a struggle for me to let most people hold me down. I tend to want to panic and get away from that person or whoever is holding me in place.” She paused. “… Father used ropes, for when I was being unruly, and the idea of being in that position again just does not sit well with me.”

There was a little strain in Breda’s voice when he spoke again, and he had to clear his throat. “Yeah… Yeah that makes sense,” he repeated. “Okay— okay I think that answers most of the questions that I have now. I’m sure there will be more along the way, but for now I have what I came after.”

“If you have any more, ask me, but please just give me a heads up and a few moments first,” Hawkeye requested. “It’s a difficult topic.”

“Of course,” Breda said, and that seemed to be the end of that. Havoc stole away quietly, not wanting to let either of them know he had overheard the conversation.

Of course, that wasn’t the only conversation that Havoc heard between Hawkeye and other members of the team. He happened to be nearby when Hawkeye and Fuery were working in the kitchen, and small talk turned to something more serious.

“You sure are a good cook, Captain!” Fuery said.

Hawkeye laughed. “You don’t have to be formal, Kain. And thank you. I try to make stuff last and use as much of it as possible.”

There was a beat of silence and then “… you know if you ever wanted to talk about it…”

Havoc could almost hear that smile of Hawkeye’s. “Thank you, Kain. I appreciate it.”

“Of course!” Fuery replied. “Anytime, s—Riza.”

For a moment they were both silent and then Riza spoke up. “I made a lot of meals on this stove,” she said.

“Yeah?” Fuery said, encouraging her to go on without interrupting her.

“Yeah,” Hawkeye said. “After mother died, father hardly ever came out. I remember that much. I think he would just fix whatever he could find. But as I got older, I learned to cook and started making the meals. After that, the only time father ever cooked anything that I remember, was when I was healing from the tattoo. He would do it in stages, and while I was healing, he would bring me food, water, whatever I needed.”

Fuery was silent, and Hawkeye sighed. “For a little bit, I was able to convince myself that it was love, that he loved me, but in the end it wasn’t. It was just a desire to see his work completed.” She looked down at the pot she was stirring and shook her head. “Sometimes I wonder…. If mother had lived, and if father had died…. What would be different?”

Fuery was silent as Hawkeye seemed to turn that over in her mind for a moment, and then shook herself out of it. She moved, almost just to be doing something, and started attending to one of the other pots on the stove.

“The past is the past, though,” she said, “and I can’t change anything about it.” She turned her head to look at Fuery again and Havoc could see her give him a smile that didn’t quite seem to be real. It was a smile of “this is how it is” and not one of happiness, which, personally, Havoc found sad.

Fuery cleared his throat, not entirely sure what to say to that. He put a hand on her shoulder for a moment, and then softly redirected the conversation. “So, um, you learned how to cook when you were young. Did you learn from books or did someone teach you?”

She tilted her head back, thinking. “Well, in a way, both. I remembered things that my mother taught me. I don’t remember her teaching them to me, just thinking ‘this is the way Mama did it’ so I had that to pull on. I also was pretty good at reading from a young age, so I would read books and try my best to understand them. Once I started school, there were some classes there that helped as well. And as I got older, I experimented more.”

“Yeah?” Fuery asked, curious.

Hawkeye nodded. “Yes. We didn’t often have much, so I learned how to make things stretch. I knew a lot of the wild plants that were edible, or that would be once you prepared them, and I learned how to grow a garden. I would hunt, too, and trade my kill for supplies. I managed to trade or sell enough off to get a goat and some chickens, so we at least had milk and eggs, if nothing else.”

“Sounds like you made it, even if you had it pretty hard at time,” Fuery said.

“I suppose so,” Hawkeye commented. “It was certainly a very interesting childhood. I wouldn’t recommend most of it to anyone.”

“Well, regardless, sir, I am glad that I got to know you now,” Fuery said.

This time the smile that she returned seemed truer. “I’m glad, too,” she said. “For being able to meet all of you.”

Havoc somehow felt that statement was more than a little true and kept it to himself for the time being.

He was in the living room, reading a book, when he overheard a conversation she had with Falman. They were in the dining room, looking over the pictures and documents.

“Sir, I hate to ask, but… You spent a lot of time outdoors, correct?” Falman’s voice was his typical straight voice, but there was a note in it that seemed to indicate that he knew he was going to tread on sensitive ground.

“I did,” Hawkeye confirmed. “That’s why I know the grounds so well.”

“Of course,” Falman said. “Well, I just… was it because of your father?” the question almost seemed to blurt out of his mouth, and he looked like he wanted to immediately take it back.

Hawkeye sighed and leaned against the table. “Mostly, yes,” she said. “I liked to stay outside because it meant that I wasn’t in father’s reach. He wasn’t close enough to lash out at me. But at the same time, if I was gone for too long, he wouldn’t be happy about that either.” She frowned. “It was a balance, and one that was difficult to achieve.”

Falman had stopped looking at the papers on the table and was looking at her instead. “Did he hurt you?” he asked.

Riza fell silent, and just stood there breathing for a moment. Finally, she spoke. “I learned to read his moods, so that I wouldn’t have to worry about anything like that,” she said. “He didn’t typically actively seek me out. But if he was angry with me for something, it was best not be around. Or if he had just come out of a research bender. Sometimes it was like he was half crazy then.” Her words almost sounded haunted, and there was a strange look in her eyes that looked like it made Falman uncomfortable. Not that Havoc could blame him, the whole thing was uncomfortable.

“I see,” he said. He looked back at the pictures. “Then I guess that if this entrance does exist, if has to be extremely well hidden.”

“Oh yes,” she said. “If it wasn’t, believe me, I would have used it to escape many things.”

The statement was haunting, and it was clear that neither of them wanted to think too hard on it. Havoc didn’t want to think too hard on it. They turned back to scouring through the papers and pictures and Havoc left them to it.

Of course, Havoc had his own conversation with her. It was bound to happen. His conversation with her happened when he was up on watch one night. He stood at the end of the hall upstairs, looking out the window at the dark and pouring rain beyond. When he heard footsteps behind him, he turned to see who it was. Hawkeye padded towards him, her feet bare and a robe wrapped around her. She joined him at the window.

“Can’t sleep?” he said.

Hawkeye shook her head. “No,” she said.

He nodded and took a drag off his cigarette. Hawkeye looked at him with a raised eyebrow.

“I thought you were getting off of those things,” she said.

“Yeah, well, after the last couple of days, I kinda needed it,” he said. She hummed. There really wasn’t much arguing about that. They were quiet for a few moments, and then Havoc spoke. “He beat you, didn’t he?” he said. “Sometimes he beat you. That’s why you knew how to get to that place on the roof. That’s why you went up there a lot as a child. And it’s why you can read people so well and you get angry at injustice, especially with children.”

Hawkeye had stiffened up, but she didn’t move from where she was. Finally, she nodded. “Yes,” she said, her voice quiet.

He had suspected as much for a while. “How often?” he asked.

Hawkeye shook her head. “They weren’t predictable, not exactly. When he came off a research bender, he was much more likely to be reactionary and hit me for small things. If I wasn’t keeping up with my chores or grades, then he was likely to hit me as well. Most of the time when he hit me, it wasn’t a full beating, just a strike because I’d done something like bother him or didn’t have something ready in time.”

“He called you names, too, didn’t he?” Havoc asked.

Again, Hawkeye stiffly nodded, and Havoc let her speak at her own pace. “Worthless girl was his favorite. So was useless. Part of me wanted to run away, but I was too afraid, I didn’t think I’d be able to survive on my own, and, well… he was still my father. I still wanted his love.”

“Sure,” Havoc said, still puffing on his cigarette. He sighed. “Honestly, Ri, do you have any idea how amazing you are?”

Hawkeye blinked up at him. “What?” she asked, clearly a bit startled.

“I have nieces, you know? Nieces and nephews and I think about some of them. I think about little Libby who loves with her whole heart and has so much fun bringing gifts and playing adventures in the tall grass. She loved climbing all over me and my chair, and I was her knight and her horse in these games. She has such a bright smile and such a gentle heart. And then I think about how your father hurt you, and I just—she’s not even my child, and I can’t imagine hurting her. In fact, if anyone was hurting her, I’d be more likely to kill them. Before or after the chair.”

His frown deepened. “And then I think about my cousin, Ellie, who honestly was more like a little sister to me. She’s 15 and smart as a whip with a sharp tongue to boot. But she’s kind, and eager to please. And I think about what your father did to you, and I just can’t imagine it.”

He reached out then, not able to help it, and hugged her. “Stars, Riza, I’m so sorry that it happened to you. It shouldn’t have. There should have been something or someone to stop it and I just—It had to hurt. It hurt, didn’t it? The tattooing, I mean.”

She was stiff with surprise in his arms for a moment, and then, slowly she relaxed a bit. She was quiet, and then, slowly, her arms curled to hug him back. Her voice was soft as she spoke. “…It did,” she said. “It hurt so much. The painkiller he gave me, my body got used to it, and it stopped being effective. Its why painkillers don’t often work on me. I’ve built up a tolerance. But he didn’t stop. He didn’t stop, Jean. He just… he kept going and just tied me down so that I wouldn’t move and destroy his work. And it hurt even worse when I finally admitted that he didn’t love me, just his work, and that I was nothing more then a means to an end for him. I—”

Her breath caught, and she let out a shaky sigh. He let her stay there as she fought to regain her composure.

“I can’t imagine it,” he said. “I can’t even begin to imagine all that you’ve been through. I wish that there was something that I could do about it, but there isn’t. But if you need anything—Riza, you know I’m here.”

She nodded and, after a moment, she slowly pulled back. She wiped at her eyes, and they both fell quiet staring out the window for a moment before she murmured a good night and headed back to her room that she was sharing with Mustang.

Havoc had to pass the room they were in on the way back to his own, and in it he could hear them talking. It sounded like Hawkeye was crying, and a bit of guilt stabbed at his heart at the thought that he had made her cry. But then he heard her words.

“—acknowledged my pain. Told me he was sorry that I had been through it, that it wasn’t right for father to have done that to me.”

“But Riza, you know that,” Mustang was saying. “You’ve known it for years.”

“I know,” she said. “But there’s something different in knowing it, and hearing someone who’s outside of the situation say it. Besides… it was different. It was like he was acknowledging ME. Not what happen to me, or that I was a kid and it wasn’t fair, but me, myself and—I don’t know. That means a lot to me.”

He heard a rustling sound, and figured that Mustang was gathering Hawkeye into his arms, or however the books always phrased it. He heard the sound of a kiss, and figured that Mustang was placing one on her head.

“Well, if it made you feel better, then I’m glad for it,” Mustang said. “You deserve so much better, Riza. I wish I could give you the world.”

The words sounded rehearsed, as if they had said them a million times.

“You know I don’t want that,” she said. “But I do want to be by your side through this world.”

It also sounded rehearsed, but neither sounded like something one of them would give out for a play or anything. No, it sounded more like something that two people have said to each other over and over again. It sounded like a way of saying “I love you.”

Havoc stole away then, to his room. His shift was over, and he was going to wake up Breda for his own.

And then he was going to enjoy having an entire bed to himself for a while, because he missed that.

More days passed, still with pouring rain. The thunder let up, though, and Fuery, who had not been about to go rig up anything in the middle of a thunderstorm, felt safer about going out in just the rain. Normally the Master Sergeant wouldn’t have done anything in this weather, but it was what it was, and there really wasn’t any other choice. Havoc could respect that, even if he was questioning the wisdom of it.

Falman, meanwhile, had reconstructed some of the missing work. From what he was able to piece together from both memory and the remaining documents, he was constructing a blueprint of the house to see if there had, indeed, once been more to the basement they there currently seemed to be. He had wondered if the town might have any sort of official record keeping that might lend him a copy of the blueprints or other such thing to help him figure it out. Hawkeye said it was possible, although she didn’t know for sure.

It was when he was taking a break from piecing together a general blueprint, that another startling discovery was made. Breda had been looking through the casefile that they had originally been tasked with when he noticed that something was missing. He had gone immediately to Falman to confirm, and Falman confirmed it. There were pages missing.

“But why those pages?” Falman asked.

Mustang’s jaw was set. “Those pages were specifically on the alchemy that was used at the scenes. It seems our intruder has an interest in alchemy. We need to catch him.”

“But how?” Havoc asked “We’ve not seen him at all. We don’t have a clue where he’s coming from.”

“Not exactly,” Breda said. “We know that he has to have a way in and out of the basement. Otherwise, he couldn’t have locked Hawkeye in there from both sides.”

Hawkeye tensed up, and Havoc found that he couldn’t really blame her for it.

“I need to go over that basement with a fine-toothed comb,” Mustang said. “Until then, no one goes anywhere by themselves, understand?”

A chorus of “yes, sir!” rang out, Hayate even barking along with them.

“Breda, Falman, I want you two to go out and search the grounds. Look for anything unusual.”

They both nodded and headed towards the washroom to get their boots and gear up.

“Havoc, you and I are going to go back down there and look over that basement again.”

“Right.” Havoc replied.

“Hawkeye, Fuery, I want the two of you to go over this house. Don’t leave any place undisturbed.”

“Yes, sir.” Fuery said

“Understood, sir.” Hawkeye replied, a steely look in her eyes.

“Keep Hayate near you,” he said. “He may be able to sense something before we’re able to.”

“Right,” Hawkeye said.

Mustang hesitated for a moment. “If this someone has an interest in alchemy…”

“Don’t worry, sir, I’ll be safe,” Hawkeye said. “I’ve got two reliable partners watching my back.”

Mustang nodded. “Right.”

Havoc couldn’t help but notice the tension and worry in both Mustang and Hawkeye as they turned towards their respective tasks, and he met Fuery’s eyes. The younger man looked firm, determined, and Havoc knew that Hawkeye would be safe in his hands.

The rest of the day was spent searching. Hawkeye and Fuery didn’t find much of anything, except some areas that could possibly be used for entry into the house, and they either took care of them themselves, or saved it to tell Mustang later. Havoc and Mustang didn’t have much luck either. The problem with searching for signs of alchemy in a house that had alchemists living in it and had already been looked over once by an alchemist, was that there were signs of alchemy everywhere. It was hard for Mustang to tell if his previous attempts at alchemy had been disturbed or not, much less for Havoc to be able to tell.

The only exciting thing was when Falman and Breda came back, slamming into the kitchen, Breda bellowing for Mustang.

“General! We found something!” Breda called.

Havoc rushed into the kitchen as well, hand hovering over his gun, just in case. When he got there, he saw Breda with a man dressed in a rain jacket, his head turned away from Breda’s yelling. Breda had his arms in a hold, and Falman had his gun trained on the man. The man wasn’t trying to resist.

“Who’s that?” Havoc asked, not quite able to get a good look at the man. He was about average height and weight, seemed to be wearing the same sturdy clothes most country folk wore, although they were muddy and wet, as if he had just come from spending a large amount of time outside. His coat was tan, and Havoc could see bits of brown hair sticking out from under the hood.

“Good question,” Mustang said, striding into the room. “Where did you find him?”

“Skulking around the edge of the woods,” Breda said. “Not sure what he was doing out that way, but he didn’t come quietly with us.”

It was then Havoc noted that all three men seemed to have a lot of mud on them, water soaking into their uniforms.

“What’s going on?” Hawkeye and Fuery entered the kitchen, both of them looking on curiously, although Havoc could see the sharpness in Hawkeye’s eyes, and the very subtle way her body shifted so she would be able to draw her gun more quickly.

“Breda and Falman found this man skulking near the edge of your woods,” Mustang said.

“Who is he?” Hawkeye asked, and that seemed to get the man’s attention.

“Ms. Hawkeye!” he said, and looked up at her, finally revealing his face. “What do you mean ‘who is he?’? Don’t you know?”

Understanding seemed to dawn in her eyes, and she relaxed a bit, although no one else did, Havoc included.

“Bennet Johnson?” she said.

The man nodded rapidly, as if wanting very hard to confirm that was who he was.

“What are you doing here?” she asked him.

“Well, ma’am, I mean, I was just coming to check on the property. With the rain and all, I thought there might be some problems,” he said. He looked back at Breda. “Was I right?”

Hawkeye waved Breda and Falman off, and as soon as they did, the man was stepping away from them, rubbing his wrists.

Mustang watched her carefully. “You know this man, Captain?” he said.

“Yes, sir,” she said. “I pay him to keep an eye on the property and do any sort of basic maintenance that the house or grounds need. I come out once a year to check on things myself. But he takes care of it for most of the year.”

“I see,” Mustang said, and, although it was clear that he understood, Havoc could see that he wasn’t quite ready to let go of his suspicion. “And do you know him or his family?”

Riza shook her head. “He came to me on recommendation. He’s new to the area and needed work. I was told that he was fairly good with upkeep and repairs and decided to give him a chance. I’ve not been disappointed yet,” she said. She looked back over at the man. “You said you were just coming to check on the house and property?”

Johnson nodded rapidly. “Yes ma’am!”

Breda, who clearly was suspicious stepped a bit closer to Johnson. “Then why did you run?” he asked.

“Because I didn’t want any trouble!” he said. I don’t know you or who you are! Your uniforms don’t mean you’re good people! Don’t you know how many former soldiers or deserters there are who still wear parts of their uniforms? I didn’t want to fall prey to one of them! I was going to head back to town and ask some questions! That’s all!”

It was a reasonable excuse, honestly, Havoc thought. The rain was likely to have caused some sort of damage to the house, and if he was responsible for checking the house, then it made sense that he would come to make sure that the house was in good repair. But something about it just didn’t sit right with Havoc.

Mustang nodded at Breda, and Breda backed off a bit. Falman lowered his gun, but didn’t put it away, Havoc noted. Seems Briggs had taught him a thing or two about action and how quickly it needed to be taken at times.

“Have you noticed anything strange around the house lately?” Mustang asked.

“You mean besides a bunch of strange soldiers?” Johnson shot back. He glanced at Hawkeye, who seemed to let out a bit of a sigh.

“Bennett Johnson, this is my commanding officer, General Roy Mustang. These are First Lieutenants Breda, Havoc and Falman, and Master Sergeant Fuery. We were on our way further south on official business when the tracks became too dangerous to travel. Instead, we’ve been forced to stay here. We didn’t mean to surprise you. I should have warned you about it. My apologies.”

Johnson shook his head. “No, no apologies. I heard about what happened in town. Seemed they’re full up and nearly every place that has a place you can stay is full up. I just wanted to make sure that there weren’t any soldiers or civilians who had decided to take advantage of an empty house. I know how particular you are, Ms. Hawkeye.”

“Thank you, Johnson, I appreciate that. But can you please answer the General’s question?” Hawkeye said.

“Oh! Anything strange around the house lately?” He paused to think. “Well, not in particular. Everything seems about the same and seems to be alright. The strangest thing I can think of is that some of the brick on the backside seemed oddly chipped. But there’s a woodpecker about who seems to be pecking on anything but wood, so I just chalked it up to that.”

Hawkeye and Mustang exchanged looks. “Can you show that place to Breda and Falman?” Hawkeye asked him.

“Oh, sure!” he said. “I mean, I did my best to fix it, but I can show them where it was.”

“Thank you,” Hawkeye said. “And thank you for coming to check on the place. Our apologies for attacking you.”

Johnson shook his head. “It’s alright, Ms. Hawkeye. I get that you were just doing your jobs. Although this isn’t going to be easy to spot.” He turned to look at Breda and Falman. “Come on,” he said. “I’ll show you right where it is.”

“Alright,” Breda said and motioned for Falman to follow him first. Breda gave Mustang and Hawkeye a look that said he was already calculating something and that he had some words for the two of them later, but he followed Johnson out anyway.

Havoc holstered his gun, but he kept an ear out anyway. Something about this just didn’t settle right with him.

The bricks, it turned out, weren’t really that helpful. He had done his best to close them over, but on the whole, there wasn’t much to be gained from them. Likewise, nothing was turned up anywhere else in the house. By the time that bedtime came around, they were all beat. Showers were quickly gotten, leftovers quickly eaten, and beds quickly taken, except for the man on watch. They were woken up to take their turns at watch at need, and the night stretched on into another dreary cloud filled day of rain, rain, and more rain.

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