Work Text:
Being assigned to Mustang’s squad was, as Lieutenant Cooper quickly realized, in a lot of way like landing in a parallel universe.
The squad functioned in a way that was unlike anything Cooper had experienced since joining the military. Generals usually managed an entire military base or a fortress, and had only one or two direct subordinates that acted as second-in-chief or bodyguard; the rest of the troops were under their orders through a long chain of command.
General Mustang, on the other hand, was stationed right here in Central and had insisted on keeping direct control on a small team in addition to his other responsibilities. It was a close-knit squad that had gone through little change over the years: Mustang was always reluctant to trust soldiers he didn’t know, and was picky about the type of people he wanted with him. For several years, Officer Warrant Falman’s position had stayed vacant, until the arrival of Cooper a few months ago.
Although unique, the Mustang squad universe was governed by an extremely specific set of rules that Cooper was quick to learn. Those rules determined the behavior of each member of the squad with clockwork precision. Mustang gave the orders and procrastinated; Breda teased Havoc and called dinner time; Havoc retaliated and smoked the office; Fuery tinkered and brought some much-needed optimism; and Hawkeye overviewed everything and kept the clock hand running.
That is why Cooper could not believe his eyes when, on an ordinary autumn morning, the Captain came to stand in front of Mustang’s desk and asked for a day off.
Hawkeye never took unplanned time off; that was another one of the rules he had learned, the only exceptions being when she was preparing a coup and when she was at death’s door. She seemed a little tired, yes, but she was certainly not dying, and Cooper did not want to consider the other option, so…why such a request?
The other members of the squad glanced at each other, all of them as surprised as he was, except for the General. After hearing her demand, he looked at Hawkeye with a compassionate look on his face and answered in a soft voice that Cooper had never heard him use.
“Of course. Don’t worry about us, Captain, we’ll manage. Take as much time as you need.”
Hawkeye nodded stiffly, turned on her heels and left the room without a word.
After a while, Breda broke the silence that had settled in the office.
“General…. what’s going on?”
Mustang let out a loud sigh and ran a hand over his face. Cooper noticed that he, too, seemed pretty worn out – although that wasn’t unusual for him.
“It’s Hayate”, replied the General after a moment. “He’s been sick for a while now…limping, hardly eating anything, that sort of stuff. Yesterday, it got worse all of a sudden: he could hardly move. I guess it hasn’t improved since then.”
The men nodded, understanding. The news didn’t seem to surprise them; after all, old dogs often got sick, and Hayate was apparently barely younger than the squad. This had made him the unofficial mascot of the team; yet Cooper felt that his colleagues’ concerns were more about the Captain. Although he was new to this place, even he had noticed the strong attachment that Hawkeye, who always seemed so unemotional, had to her dog.
The rules of this small universe were simple, but Cooper was beginning to understand that they concealed another layer of them, more subtle and complex. Hawkeye seemed cold and reserved, but her dog wasn't the only one to receive her affection: she could be warm-hearted with the members of her team, and always had words of comfort for those who needed them. Breda gave the impression of being oafish, but he had a sharp and crafty mind; and beneath Mustang’s apparent laziness laid a burning passion and an iron will to reach his goal.
But perhaps the main unspoken rules were those concerning the relationship between the General and the Captain.
Cooper was not clear yet on the nature of that relationship. Mustang had a lot of affection for his adjutant, that was for sure; but the two had worked closely together for almost twenty years, and Cooper had picked up that they apparently knew each other before even joining the military. Their fierce loyalty and deep understanding of each other could very well only be the result of a childhood friendship.
On the other hand, there were the knowing glances the other men of the squad exchanged from time to time, and certain details that spoke volumes – such as the fact that Mustang had been the only one to know about Hayate’s condition. Despite this, Cooper had never tried to find out more, out of respect for his superior.
The rest of the day went by quieter than usual, even though the missing person was usually the one bringing the office back to order. Unsurprisingly, Mustang didn’t get much work done; but instead of sleeping or making phone calls as he often did in his adjutant’s absence, he seemed mostly lost in thought and glanced worriedly at the clock from time to time.
A few hours after dinner, he got up from his desk and asked for their attention.
“Alright! We’ve worked well this morning, and I think we could all do with some rest. Let’s call it a day; you’re good to go.”
Cooper wasn’t expecting this. Being dismissed almost half a day early? No one ever did this.
“Are you gonna check on the Captain, sir?” asked Breda.
Mustang nodded as he put on his coat.
“We should probably do that too”, Fuery chipped in. “Taking care of a sick dog is a lot of work; she’ll probably need a break or a good meal.”
The rest of the team agreed, except for Havoc who had to go home to look after the kids, and the men continued to chat as they got ready to leave. Hawkeye didn’t answer when Mustang called her apartment; they concluded that she was probably still at the vet.
“It’s hard to believe that Hayate is already an old dog,” Fuery commented as they walked down the stairs. “It feels like only yesterday he was still a puppy!”
Breda answered with a tired grunt.
“It sure makes us feel old…If I remember well, you and Falman were still living in the barrack at the time he arrived. You were the one who found him on the street, right?”
They stepped into the General’s car and spent the ride reminiscing, explaining to Cooper how the dog had come to join their squad. Only Mustang stayed out of the conversation. After a few minutes, Breda looked out of the car and frowned.
“We’re going to the veterinary hospital, aren’t we? Are you sure you’re going in the right direction, sir?”
“Yes, but I’m making a short detour,” he replied distractedly. “I want to check something first…”
A few streets later, they started to drive along the main park of Central, and Mustang slowed down the car.
“That’s her favorite spot to walk Hayate, so I thought…” he began, scanning the park from his car window.
“Oh!” exclaimed Fuery. “Is that her, on the bench?”
From the back of the vehicle, Cooper twisted his neck to get a better look, and finally caught glimpse of a blonde woman sitting near the middle of the park.
“Hayate doesn’t seem to be with her”, Breda noted. “That’s not a good sign…”
The men glanced at each other with a knowing look: there was only one reason why Riza would be neither with her dog nor back to work. Mustang parked the car in the closest spot he could find and turned back toward them, a grave expression on his face.
“I’ll go talk to her. If you guys want to go home,” he threw the key at Breda, “we’ll take a taxi.”
He took a deep breath, got out of the car and walked away.
The three men watched him enter the park in silence, and after a while, Cooper spoke up.
“We’d better get out of here, shouldn’t we? To give them some space…”
“I agree,” replied Fuery, “but…” He gave Breda a sideways look. “Isn’t it a bit risky for them?”
“Well," he started in a pensive tone, "given the weather, there aren’t many people in the park, and the sun is setting soon anyway. On the flip side, he’s in uniform, and we’re not that far away…” He paused to think for a moment. “I think I’m going to hang out close to the entrance for a while." He glanced with intent at Fuery, who understood immediately.
“Good idea. Cooper, want to hang out by the other entrance of the park?”
While he followed Fuery, Cooper found himself once again fascinated by the secret rules that governed Mustang squad’s small universe.
-------
As she saw Roy approaching, dressed in the military blue, Riza straightened her back and turned her head away, hastily wiping her eyes. She was dressed in her civilian clothes, and the light wind was pushing locks of loose hair into her face.
“General”, she greeted in a strangled voice as he stopped in front of the bench. “Was the workday productive?”
Roy stared at her worriedly, ignoring her question.
“Hayate”, he began in a soft voice, “is he…”
Riza looked down at the ground and simply nodded.
“They had to put him down. There wasn’t much they could do, he was just too old…” Her voice trailed off.
Roy sat down next to her. “I’m sorry, Riza.”
She felt her eyes starting to fill with tears and looked the other way, embarrassed. “Sorry, I know…” She took a deep breath and exhale slowly, trying to collect herself. “I know it’s silly, it’s only a dog, but…”
“Riza!” She snapped her head at him, surprised by his offended tone. Roy took her hand in his. “It’s not silly,” he said firmly. “He’s been by your side for, what, twelve years?”
“Fourteen”, she corrected without a thought, looking at the medals on his uniform.
“For fourteen years,” he continued. “He was important to you; it’s only natural that you would feel sad about losing him.” His expression softened. “You’re allowed to cry over a dog, Riza.”
She finally met his eyes; the understanding and compassion she read in them made her choke up, and she didn’t manage to answer.
He wrapped his arm around her shoulders and pulled her closed to him. Riza hesitated, but there was no one around she could see; after a moment, she leaned against him and rested her head on his shoulder. They stayed like this, without talking, both lost in their thoughts.
“He’s had a good life, you know,” Roy said after a time. Riza wasn’t sobbing, but her chest rose and fell violently, and her cheeks were covered with silent tears. “Dogs want nothing more than to feel useful, and you know how much he loved to come with you on missions.”
She nodded, her throat still tight. “He saved my life…four or five times, I think.” A shadow of a smile touched her lips. “He probably did it more often than you, actually.”
Roy laughed quietly. “I don't have any trouble believing that. He really was an exceptional dog.”
Riza closed her eyes. She could feel Roy’s thumb rubbing circles into her shoulder, and heard the wind sweeping dead leaves around their bench.
Even though her heart seemed as heavy as lead, Riza felt strangely serene. Her sorrow was deep, yes, but it was a soft kind of sorrow. All the mourning she had gone through in her life had been stained with shame, resentment, and above all guilt; they were weighted down by duty and intertwined with stories of conspiracies, alchemy, genocide. She couldn’t even grieve without blaming herself for it: what right did she have to cry over Ishval when she had been the one to commit the crimes? How could she allow herself to lament over the state of her back, when she had been the one who wanted Roy to burn it?
But for once, her sadness brought nothing more than sadness. In the midst of her complicated life, Hayate had been a source of simple joy, and his death brought her a simple sorrow. It was her dog, and Riza had loved him; the pain that she was feeling only showed how deeply she had cared, and for once she had no reason to blame herself over it.
Having Roy by her side made her sorrow softer still.
More than anything in Riza’s life, her relationship with Roy was a heavy and complicated mess. They carried so much pain, so much guilt between them; they had apologized for countless harm they’ve done to each other, but had forgiven themselves for none of them. Their common past was full of remorse and their future together filled by uncertainty; and the mourning they had shared had been as complex, if not more, than anything else.
But not this one. For a moment, they were not soldiers trying to make right for a genocide or overthrow a government. They were nothing more than a grieving couple who had lost their dog; an ordinary couple going through life’s small hardship. A normal couple with a very real, but normal pain.
And for a moment, despite everything, it felt just right.