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The young woman could only hear panicked yelling. Repetitions of the word ‘Lieutenant.’ Which Lieutenant? Why wasn’t the Lieutenant responding? Her head hurt. She was standing on the street, but she couldn’t remember why. The last thing she could remember was being outside her house, gathering firewood to cook dinner later. Where was she now? The mental image of the yard faded away to reveal a city street. Buildings replaced trees, bushes became benches, and stone bricks from dirt ground. She looked around, there were uniformed officers fighting a cloaked figure. The cloaked figure appeared to be using alchemy, creating dust clouds and walls to fend off the military members. There was one officer beside her, a black haired woman who couldn’t decide whether to watch the fight or the woman’s face. It took Riza’s senses another few seconds to catch up, this woman was the source of the panicked yelling. She turned and made eye contact with her jet black eyes.
“Lieutenant, are you alright?” The woman questioned.
Riza was still moving slowly, still confused at how she was suddenly in the center of Amestris’ capital city. Confusion furthered by the officer who believed she was some Lieutenant. Her stoic face was a stark comparison to the officer’s contorted in anxiety. She tilted her head, nonspeaking.
“Lieutenant, answer me! Are you harmed?” Heavy hands met her shoulders.
She followed the hands, still trying to catch up with current events. She was in a uniform, and if she remembered her ranks correctly, the stars and stripes on her shoulder mark made her a Lieutenant. The Lieutenant? She never joined the military, though, she couldn’t possibly be the Lieutenant in question. Even if she wanted to, her father would never let her join. Except that this woman seemed convinced that she was an officer, and something just happened to her. “I’m not…” Her eyebrows furrowed and her head shook. Her voice was deep, deeper than it should’ve been.
“You’re not harmed? You’re not okay?” Riza looked back at the woman.
“I’m not a Lieutenant.”
The Colonel’s face dropped. Her eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “What do you mean you’re not a Lieutenant.” There was no question, no inflection, just a mix of anger and concern.
“I’m…” Riza started. The Colonel looked away towards the battle, eyes following the alchemist, rage building. Too many questions were racing through her head. “What am I doing here?”
Attention snapped back to Riza. The rage behind her eyes turned to pure worry. Black searched amber, trying to find any clue as to the reason behind this question. “Lieutenant, we should get you off the field.” She used her grip on the younger woman’s shoulders to direct her out of the street and towards the archway of a building entrance. She took one last glance to the scuffle, which was shifting further down the street. It wouldn’t be ideal to lose the suspect, but she couldn’t rejoin the battle now, the health of her subordinate took immediate precedence. She moved her gloved hands to inspect Hawkeye’s face, lightly turning her head to see any evidence of blood or bruising.
“What’s going on?” Riza asked, lifting her hands to drive away the Colonel’s. The gloves had a symbol on them that seemed familiar, but Riza couldn’t quite place it.
The Colonel retreated and held a pensive look. “What do you last remember?”
Riza took a deep breath. “I was gathering firewood at my father’s house.” The Colonel’s head lifted at the mention of her father. “We needed some for heating the stove later… How did I get here? Who are you?” She was really starting to worry, her father wouldn’t notice if she were gone, even for days, but she didn’t like leaving him alone.
“I’m Colonel Roy Mustang, I’m your superior officer, you’ve worked as my subordinate for the better part of ten years. You don’t remember any of it?” Mustang asked, Riza could hear the anxiety behind the question.
“No, I’m sorry…” She held her elbows, she was uncomfortable and just wanted to get back home. If it’s really been ten years like this Colonel is saying, was there a home to get back to? Would her father let her come home as a Lieutenant?
Roy closed her eyes and sighed. “We should get you to the infirmary. They’ll know how to help you.” She reached for Riza’s shoulder and elbow to guide her. “Can you walk fine, Lieutenant?”
“Yes, I can manage myself.” Her response made Mustang drop the hand on her elbow, but the one on her shoulder lingered. Hawkeye didn’t necessarily mind, she just wasn’t used to the touch. The older woman guided her through the streets of Central, to what she could only assume was Central Command. She had never been there, only seen pictures… Of course, she actually had been there before, just couldn’t remember it.
Entering the medical wing, Mustang directed Hawkeye to sit on the bed in an unoccupied room. “Stay here, I’ll be right back.” She lingered at the doorway, concern evident by her expression. Riza stared and blinked, and Roy slowly continued her departure.
She wasn’t gone for more than a few minutes when she came back with a doctor, explaining what had happened in the field and how it affected the Lieutenant. “Let me examine our patient here and I can tell you what I think. Lieutenant Hawkeye? I’m going to ask you a few questions, okay?”
The doctor started his tests, some simple questions and a basic physical exam made up most of the process. All the while, Mustang stood feigning patience, chewing her lip and holding her eyebrows in worried arcs. She kept her attention on Riza, only sparing a few glances towards either the doctor or the clock on the wall. It was odd for Hawkeye to be the focal point; at home she felt like a shadow with how little attention her father paid her, she learned to feel like a piece of the background and be ignored. So to suddenly be focused on so intensely felt strange.
“You said you were fighting an alkahestrist?” The doctor asked, still inspecting Riza but clearly the question was directed at Mustang.
“Yes, he was about to grab me but the Lieutenant knocked me out of the way. He got her instead.” The Colonel answered, eyes unwavering from Riza’s.
“Hmm, I would say there’s a high chance she’ll get her memory back,” the doctor said, turning to face Mustang. “She has no other symptoms besides the memory loss. That suggests to me there’s just a temporary block in her memory pathways.”
Roy nodded, she understood but was still worried. “So is there anything you can do for her? That I can do for her?” Riza looked between the two.
“You can send her home, there’s really nothing anyone can do to expedite her regaining her memory unless you have a detailed timeline of her life from the exact moment her memory loss goes back to.” The Colonel absentmindedly scratched the back of her head. Technically, she could recount most of Riza’s life, but that wasn’t something she particularly wanted to place on the younger woman.
She crossed her arms. “Lieutenant, take as much sick leave as you need. I’ll take you to your apartment, and you can focus on getting better, alright?”
Riza again looked between the doctor and the Colonel. “Alright,” she agreed, and stood from the bed. Anything to get out of the center of attention.
Roy placed a hand between Riza’s shoulder blades and gestured her other arm to the door. Riza twitched almost imperceptibly at the touch, Roy noticed but left her hand there. It was strange to again be led around the city, but she didn’t really have a choice.
Upon reaching the Lieutenant’s apartment, Mustang finally removed her hand from its place on her back. Riza was surprised it didn’t fuse to her skin. Hawkeye dug around in her pockets and produced a key, unlocking the door to find a very happy little dog sitting, ready to greet her. She looked questioningly at the Colonel, who quickly explained that she had adopted the dog at some point in the last year. Riza was hesitant in entering the living space, and was followed by a much more confident Roy. Riza inspected the small space for a minute, it was definitely a downgrade to her family’s house in the West. She turned to see Mustang still watching her. She stared for a second before the Colonel realized she should take her leave.
“If you need anything, your phone should have automatic programming to call our office. I’ll be there.” She inched towards the exit, but clearly didn’t want to leave. Her eyes stayed locked on Riza and she began chewing the inside of her cheek. “Anything at all.” She paused at the door frame, then finally shut the door. Riza didn’t move until the sound of footsteps down the hall faded. She walked around for a few minutes, seeing if she could recognize anything from her old home in her current abode. There was only a keepsake box, hidden in her bedroom. It contained the few photographs from before her mother died, and her parents wedding rings. While she wouldn’t doubt her father would stop wearing his ring, she figured that combined with the fact she joined the military meant he had passed. She wondered if it was peaceful, quiet, or if he went down in a blaze like his alchemy studies. Perhaps that’s what happened to the house, why she had so few personal affects.
Riza groaned thinking about it, she didn’t want to. She decided on a shower to distract herself, wash away the day. She shed her coat as she walked to the bathroom, tossing it onto her small bed. As she pulled her shirt over her shoulders, and felt the skin on her back stretch weird, like there was a resistance to the motion. Still holding the black turtleneck, she turned to look at herself in the mirror. The tattoo that her father made her bear was covered in a large scar. A large burn scar. She started breathing faster, just what the hell happened?
Straining her body to get a better look, she gripped at and stretched her skin to inspect both the tattoo and scar. The familiarity of the Colonel’s gloves hit her, it was this symbol. Was Mustang responsible for this? Riza was starting to panic, thoughts of her supposed superior stealing the research she was entrusted with filled her head. Of course, there could only be one flame alchemist. Mustang could’ve killed her father, too, to ensure this. Maybe this was all a setup too, to get more information out of her. That could be why the Colonel was being so attentive and almost possessive. Riza stepped away from the mirror, her thoughts were getting ahead of her. She turned on the faucet and splashed her face with cold water to reset herself. The only information she had was the gloves, the tattoo, and the scar. Something happened, and she needed to know what. She put the shirt back on, and grabbed her coat as she walked back to the front of the apartment. Hayate tried to follow her, but she made it out the door before he could catch up.
The walk back to Central Command didn’t take long, and asking “fellow” officers to direct her to Mustang’s office was also a simple feat. When she stormed in, the four officers she assumed were also part of the team were standing around a desk. The occupant was none other than the Colonel, who had her hands laced in front of her mouth, pensive look across her face. They all turned to look at Hawkeye, surprised.
“Clear out.” The Colonel said, and the other officers saluted before shuffling to the door. It closed with a click, and Roy directed her attention to the clearly distressed woman in front of her.
“What the hell did you do to me?” She sounded like a growling dog.
Mustang had only one guess for what Hawkeye was talking about, but feigned ignorance anyways. “What are you talking about, Lieutenant?”
“My back, the tattoo on my back. My father’s research is burnt. I can only assume it was you, with your gloves, with that symbol.” She had approached the desk and was leaning toward the Colonel. Her rage and anxiety were hard to hide and painted her face. “What did you do?”
Roy’s eyebrow twitched but she held her pensive look. Her fingers were still laced together in front of her mouth. “Lieutenant, I suggest you try to remember this on your own.” She averted her eyes. “You’d be better off for it.” There are few things she hates more than hurting her subordinate, and recounting their time together would only hurt her all over again.
“Tell me. Now.” Riza demanded.
Mustang would find the dropping of formality fun in any other context. She sighed and relaxed her arms. “I didn’t want to be the one to put you through this again, but since you’re asking so nicely, I’ll comply.” The sarcasm didn’t hit like Roy hoped, just made Riza’s frown deepen slightly. Roy leaned back in her chair and readied herself for the next several minutes.
She explained studying under Berthold, Mr. Hawkeye, meeting Riza and the two becoming something of friends. She continued on about Berthold hiding the final secret of flame alchemy from her, due to her joining the military. About coming back a year later to her teacher’s deathbed, and watching him die. The funeral, and the reveal after the procession. How Riza trusted her with the matrix, even though she never should have. Their departure, and reacquainting on the battlefield. At this point, Riza had relaxed her grip on the desk, and walked over to a window, searching for anything else to focus on besides the Colonel’s sorrowing expression. Roy stayed facing forward, staring blankly where Riza was just standing. She continued on to explain the Ishvalan war, the parts they played which were short but daunting, effective, and brutal. And how at the end of the war, Riza asked her to burn the tattoo from her skin, free her from the burden of carrying the flame alchemy secret, and to never allow another flame alchemist to exist. Roy explained how she didn’t want to, but Riza’s words and the irony of the situation convinced her. What was some burnt skin to a bullet through the brain, and burning a little skin to scorching entire families?
Riza had started to recall the very first events, Roy studying with her father. Feeling inspired by the young woman’s drive, and ultimately following her into the military. Roy continued to explain her desire to become Fuhrer, and Riza choosing to help her to that goal. The promise to shoot her in the back if she were to ever waver from that path.
“There’s more I could explain, but that’s the brunt of it.” Mustang leaned forward and rested her elbows on the desk again. The air was heavy with the depressing reality of the young woman’s life. Hawkeye slowly walked to the door, pausing at the edge of the rug under the desk space.
She looked over her shoulder. “I’m sorry, Roy. For accusing you. I’m going to go back now, and take my sick leave like you suggested.” The Colonel hadn’t heard her first name come from the Lieutenant’s mouth for years.
“You do that, Riza.” It felt unnatural to reciprocate. “Get better. That’s an order, Lieutenant.”
She nodded and ambled to the door. She walked out, not paying any mind to her coworkers who clearly just had their ears pressed against the door to listen.
Hawkeye held back thinking until she got to her apartment, focusing on anything else besides the information Mustang just gave her. Gave back to her? Helped her find? Whatever the logistics were, she didn’t allow herself to start remembering she entered her apartment. With the closing of the door she collapsed to her knees, tears streaming down her cheeks. Hayate ran up and sniffed her, licking the salty tears from her face. They continued to stream as more memories rushed in to fill the gaps of Roy’s narrative.
“I’m such an idiot.” She said as she scooped the dog into her arms, hugging him tight.