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The rain clouds that had rolled over East City earlier that day remained low and heavy. Their downpour an unforgiving onslaught on the city below, as if the heavens above were crying in anguish. Perhaps even, she supposed, with the torrential flow it may be an attempt to swallow up the city for its sins... In that way, she wondered if she could blame it for such a behavior. It was no secret the Eastern Command Center, so close to Ishval, was oft a viper pit— Especially today.
“Lieutenant?”
It had only been a moment that she'd glanced away from her paperwork. A moment that her attention had turned to the crying world, but it was a moment long enough. Her thumb pressed against the top of the pen in her hand as she turned her attention to the person hailing her. The office is mostly empty now. After the eventful day they had the Team had spread into separate duties to search for Scar, now close to evening it was just the two of them left within the room.
Roy Mustang gave nothing away. His dark eyes were narrowed, unreadable even to her, and his countenance impenetrable. Her brow raised sharply in response, but the man said nothing further than her name. He's waiting for something, waiting for her to take the lead. But on what? It's hard to tell; After the day they've had all she can think about is finishing up the last of their paper work, going home and taking a nice warm shower, and finding something warm to eat. Soup, maybe.
“Was there something on your mind, sir?” Riza inquired steadily, pressing the top of her pen to writing position, deftly turning amber eyes back to the paper at hand. She resisted the urge to sigh, this particular one was supposed to be turned into financing before lunch. The Colonel wouldn't likely look at it until the morning at this rate and that would put a dent in the records— She shook her thoughts off, writing in the notations for the team's requests (Fuery needed some new tools to repair a radio, ammo, paperclips because someone had taken them all again).
She's halfway through the mental list she'd accumulated over the course of the past few days when she realized the Colonel hadn't answered. A glance up shows him still giving her a look— This time she reads it better. Uncertainty? Skepticism? It's like he's not sure what he's seeing. Riza finally put down her pen with a long-suffering sigh as she pushed her chair back.
“I'll need you to look over the paperwork for our expenditures before we leave,” she commented, grabbing a file from the shelf behind her, “you have a meeting with the General first thing in the morning, so there won't be any time.”
Mustang made a sound of affirmation behind her, but it's only half an answer. “I'll be on position for the search for Scar tomorrow,” Riza reminded, speaking of their earlier conversations as a team, “will you be all right?” Finally, she turned more fully to the man, folder clutched in hand as she made her way to the desk. Mustang looked over at her from folded hands, mouth resting at the bridge. Her brow remained arched, curious and waiting.
“I think it should be me asking you that question, Lieutenant,” Mustang remarked, lowering his hands until they folded against her desk. If Riza had wanted to hide her surprise it's impossible, her eyes widen in confusion and shock before smoothing into her ever cool expression. He should be asking her that question?
“Sorry, sir,” Riza mentioned, “I'm not following. Could you elaborate?”
Mustang scowled for the first time, one hand going to brush back his hair as the other offered a hand for the folder in her hand. Riza complied, patiently waiting, as he flipped open the paperwork. “Today's been a difficult day for all of us, Lieutenant,” He mentioned idly, voice lilting over the paperwork, “just because we have to face such acts certainly doesn't mean it doesn't leave their marks. Are you sure today hasn't brought up any unpleasant memories?”
And just like that, the cool-mannered Riza Hawkeye's expression shuts down.
It's not the first time today. Certainly, it wouldn't be the last time, either. Ever since she was a child herself she had to learn to compartmentalize. Berthold Hawkeye, her father, had ignored her for so much of it. When he wasn't ignoring her? He was terrifying, a man spiraling to madness and determined to take his daughter with her. A man who's madness gripped at her being, burned itself into her back, and left her more damaged then any child should be.
...No.
In some ways she's gotten off lucky. Today had been a reminder of that.
Her mouth turned steely as she gave a shake of her head. “No, sir, there is no relation between what happened today and myself. It was an unfortunate loss of a child, one I wish we could have prevented, that is all,” Riza commented, ever the level-headed response as she retrieved the last of the paperwork. She placed the finance papers on his desk with a jerk of her head, “My paperwork is finished for the day, sir.”
Mustang continued to stare at her contemplatively for a moment before sighing.
“You're dismissed then, Lieutenant,” He remarked and the woman exhaled. Clicking her heels together with a 'sir' the woman returned to her desk. Retrieving her back, she glanced back over her shoulder to see the man's eyes boring into the paperwork in hand. The familiar pinch of his eyebrows at such a task soothing in its normalcy. The twinge she'd been carrying in her heart for half the day suddenly lighter as she stopped at the door. Her fingers clutching the handle as she pulled it open. A brief pause before she called over her shoulder.
“And, Sir? I was thinking soup sounded good tonight; You should try picking yourself some up tonight, too. It's supposed to be bitter all night.”
Riza doesn't give the man time to respond as she clicked the door shut behind her. Readjusting the strap of her bag, the woman nodded to a couple of officers she passed before making her way to the front of Eastern Command. Grateful the clouds had been rolling in earlier that morning, she opened her umbrella she made the trek from the Command Center to her home.
Her steps hit the water with heavy plops— She almost doesn't feel the way they slosh and dampen her pant legs. Almost. Her thought feels as heavy as the clouds above, as heavy as her boots clomping through mud and puddles, and certainly as heavy as her heart laden in her chest. For as much as she tried to convince herself nothing had been bothering her, Roy had seen her and understood her completely.
It wasn't the death of a child. At least it wasn't the death specifically. Since she joined the military she had seen many children die. Riza had been the one to kill nearly as many as she saw perish. Each visage burned into her memory, haunting her dreams and waiting for her to meet them to the grave. Faces she would never forget and certainly couldn't pity herself over. Nor she could pity them, she didn't have that right either. The children and people she had killed... Those were different, Sins of her own that she had committed. Her choice to kill instead of to protect, instead of trying to find a way for them to have a happier future.
Could she have done that for young Nina Tucker?
No. That was the bitter truth of the matter.
Riza could easily see herself in the shoes of the young girl. A mother who had passed away when she was young. A father who was an alchemist and obsessed with perfecting his research. Who's money and talent, his right as an alchemist, meant far more than the young girl he had fathered. A child who became only useful if it could be used. Be it living research notes... Or the transmutation itself. She had no doubt, if Berthold Hawkeye had been studying the transmutation of humans she would have had the same fate as Nina Tucker. Instead, he had engraved her with his research and demanded her to see out his own dreams.
How he'd be turning in his grave now to know she gave it to his pupil (to the young man he thought not ready for alchemy). To readily give it to the hands of a State Alchemist, to the Military, and to see it slaughter thousands. How she had joined the military he so despised to protect the man who torched the citizens to the ground... It's laughable. Yet, she had a choice. Nina Tucker did not. Here she was still in the military she equally despised now all for the hope of helping to atone for their sins and to create a better future—
—But could they really pretend to be able to do so when they could not save one little girl?
It's difficult not to think about, even as the woman tried to supply her mind with other thoughts. She stopped in the grocery store to pick up items for dinner. Some fresh vegetables and broth, two bottles of beer, a decent sized piece of cake. The young man behind the counter who's usually there continues her flirtations and whereas usually she's capable of keeping a blank expression at some point this time one of his remarks caught her off guard. They're both surprised, but she recomposed herself and thanked him for the groceries before leaving for home.
Hayate's waiting for her at the door, tail happy and tongue lulling out of the side of his mouth. Riza's smile came more easily as she reached down to pet the dog before readjusting the bag in her hand and making for the kitchen. Hayate followed behind eagerly, but gave a low sounding whine. A glance towards the dog showed his tail had fallen and his ears pressed against his head, a sign the young pup was worried himself. A glance around the room showed he didn't have an accident in the kitchen, so that wasn't it.
“You, too, huh?” She breathed out when she felt him rubbing against her legs with another low whine. She bent down to pick him up to reassure the dog, but from the way he seemed to nuzzle himself into her chest it seemed that had been the dog's thought. Riza gave a breath of a laugh as she pressed a hand onto the top of his head. “It's all right, really,” she mentioned to him softly, “why don't we have dinner and head to bed early this evening?”
Hayate yipped his agreement.
Riza replaced the dog on the ground before returning to her groceries. It's a familiar process, something she'd taken comfort in since she was just a girl. She remembered fondly when she wasn't great at cooking and how her first attempt to give Mustang a surprise had ended in food poisoning. She's gotten better now and the tasks are soothing; But then so long as she kept her hands busy and moving Riza Hawkeye could contain her thoughts. Cutting vegetables and preparing meals was relaxing for that fact alone.
Her vegetables cut and broth on a broil, Riza'd began cooking the meat when there was a knock on the door. Hayate was the first to get up, jumping up from his spot resting near the stove to do a circle and bark at the door. Riza grabbed her shawl before heading toward the door and a glance through the peep hole doesn't leave her surprised as she opened the door.
“I was beginning to think you didn't understand my message, Colonel,” Riza remarked wryly as she stepped aside to let the man in. Roy Mustang began shoving off his coat almost immediately as Riza offered to take it. It's not the first time he's shown up on her doorstep like this— Indeed, they've eaten dinner more than a handful of times in the month alone. Something of their childhoods that had followed them into their adult lives.
“I wasn't sure it was a message, ” Mustang commented minutely as he rolled up his sleeves, “you haven't looked like you'd want company today.”
She hadn't? That was news to her.
“Anything I can help with?”
He continued on without missing a beat and Riza can't help but give a short laugh. “And I think you purposefully came late to avoid another disastrous attempt at cutting vegetables,” Riza hummed thoughtfully, pressing a hand against her shoulder as she passed him, “it's just about finished, if you want to set the table.”
Riza pretended to miss the bemused expression that crossed his features as she returned to what she was doing, the smallest of a smile forming itself on her features. From the corner of her eye, she saw Hayate return to his spot on the floor and behind her she heard Mustang begin to pull stuff from the cupboard. Its normal. It's how their days have been for months now, years even (Save the dog). There was nothing different or unusual about it—
—Her finger slipped and the knife sliced into her thumb. She stared blankly at it a moment too long, not yet realizing it had happened, only surfacing at the sound of clattering behind her as someone hurriedly put something down. Riza glanced back with a jolt, luckily having dropped the knife prior, to see Roy hurrying to her side.
“You need to be more careful, Lieutenant,” Mustang hissed as he moved to take her hand— forgoing any and all protocol to inspect it— “luckily, it looks like it's a minor cut.”
“Of course it is,” Riza shot, despite herself, yanking her hand away from the man's hands, “accidents happen in a kitchen all the time, Colonel. It's not the first time.”
Mustang's eyes darkened as he gave a slow exhale. “No, you're certainly right about that one. I remember that time when you were fourteen when you nearly cut your thumb off handling a carrot when I surprised you,” Mustang mused, ignoring her look of annoyance and the way her mouth opened to fix his statement, instead leveling her with a look that was quick to silence her, “but the Lieutenant I know doesn't make such mistakes. She's always kept a cool-head and remains composed, it's why she's such a valuable bodyguard.”
Riza's expression was steely. Her hands lingered at her sides as she tensed her jaw, never turning her eyes away from the man. While she's thinking of what to say— formulating exactly what it is she needs and wants to say, Mustang is one step ahead of her. His fingers find her injured hand once more and her breath is stuck in her throat. Gripping it in his own hand, his thumbs run across the hand in question as obsidian eye danced dangerously.
“Something is bothering you,” Mustang— Roy insisted quietly, voice low and soothing. It's a tone he rarely took with her. One reserved for quiet moments with just the two of them, the sound of familiarity and honesty. More familial of a tone than she ever heard from her father.
For the first time that day, the heart she had turned to heavy steel unclasped itself and began to melt. Amber eyes felt foggy as she ducked her head and gave a steadying breath. Roy said nothing, patiently waiting for her to speak, and it's a too long minute before she gathered what she wanted to say. “What happened with Nina Tucker,” Riza mentioned lowly, “I can't help but think of how easily it could have been me when I was a girl.”
“I wouldn't have let it happen.”
“Mustang—“
“—I wouldn't.”
“You did,” Riza said firmly, although there was no accusation in her voice, no lack of warmth in her eyes as she glanced up, her soft smile of reassurance watery, “you left, Colonel, and I was alone with a father who'd already fallen into insanity. He waited to give me that tattoo until he was certain no one was around. The same as Shou with his own daughter.”
“You know I wouldn't have left if I had known,” Roy shot back angrily, a low growl to his voice.
“No, you wouldn't have, but that's my point,” Riza said calmly, a somber air to her voice, “if any of us had known what would have happened to Nina Tucker she would have been taken from her father's custody when her mother died. Maybe we knew all a long and turned a blind eye to it... Even so, she's another child taken by the cruelty of alchemy.”
Roy's quiet, assessing her words, and Riza released a low, ill-amused laugh.
“If alchemy is to benefit for the people, why is it the people that it harms?”
His thumbs roll over hers once more and for a moment there's silence. She can hear the sound of water boiling— was it boiling over? She should check on it, but she can't move. She hears the sound of Hayate's tail hitting the floor and the clock ticking on. It's a long moment, longer than she's lived, but Roy exhaled as he squeezed her hand before stepping away.
“You know we can't think like that, Lieutenant,” Roy mentioned, his voice a rumble, “if it's alchemy that's turned its country on its head then it's alchemy that we'll use to right it. It's not alchemy that's created such horrors, but the alchemists that wield it. The only thing we can do is to catch them before they're allowed to do anything. There will be no more Nina Tucker's.”
Riza frowned, turning her attention upwards to the man who'd moved to grab her first aid pack. His eyes meet hers over the box as he plucked out a bandage with little flourish. “That's not something I can promise,” Roy admitted as he returned to her side, holding out a hand for hers once more, “and I'm not going to pretend we can stop all suffering. But we can minimize it. If we continue moving forward and we learn to read the signs quicker then we might be able to save a child's life the next time.”
She's quiet as he speaks, placing the band-aid on her hand before raising it to his hand and pressing his lips to it. “Can I count on you to keep a level-head when the time comes?” Roy inquired, voice softening, “You'll be the one those children will need to rely on most.”
The woman's shoulders stiffen. For a brief moment the world seemed as simple as it had once before. A world where everyone could be happy. No, it wasn't so simple anymore. They both knew how difficult the world was, how cruel it was. Neither one of them would say they could save everyone anymore but if they could save a few... If they could recognize where things went wrong and spread the word so more and more people could help...
For a moment, she could visualize it. The long hallway, darkened except for the candlelit room at the end of a hall. Sunken eyes and a voice that grated like sand. A desire to make herself small, to not show emotion, to not be in the way. To be told of his dreams and how she could help pursue it if she wanted to mean anything at all... The smile of a young man who believed in a happy future for all.
Her fate had been saved, in a way, by that young man. The shackles and bonds laid from insanity seared way by his hand. If it was with this man then certainly they could save other children.
She breathed out. “Of course, sir,” Riza remarked evenly, finding the stone falling away from her heart as she spoke, “but could we put saving the world on hold until tomorrow? We'll catch a cold if we go out in this weather and you're already useless enough in it.” It's an easy comment, returning to normalcy into his sputtering as she moved back to the soup. The smile on her slips although still somber and wane, truly apparent as she asked the man for the bowls.
When he obliged she shifted near him, bumping his shoulder only just slightly and her voice is so quiet it's possible she's not said anything.
Thank you, Colonel.
For being there. For being him. For understanding her. For never letting her be alone.
All of it went unsaid, even in the flickering of the passing of their eyes, but from the smile etched into his own features she was certain the message got passed on.