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Chapter Text

To say that Riza’s day was going badly would be a prolific understatement. Her deposition ran late, her mother’s called her office no less than four times for some ungodly reason, and she’s been sitting in this scheduling hearing for three hours. Sure, it’s the judge going through several cases, and yes, this is a necessary evil of the justice system. She is still pissed about it, thank you kindly.

She has places to be, things to do, a mother to call back; god Thursdays are the worst.

Defense council is stalling for more time because they didn’t have the decency to finish their filing beforehand. Riza knows this defendant is the last in the long line of bail hearings; the frustration is still very much present.

Judge Alison Grause keeps glancing towards Riza with a look in her eye that says ‘we’re in this together’ and Riza keeps nodding back stoically. 

Riza’s co-counsel slides her a note indicating that he hasn’t seen any relevant filings for the defense, let alone the filing in question. Mr. Dyer is not the worst co-counsel in the world to have, but he is on the last leg of his career and biding his time for retirement; which means he often leans on Riza’s more commanding presence to get things done. He’d been a good mentor until he checked out emotionally, now he’s just a good name to have down on the docket. 

“Your honor, may I approach?” She asks with a sigh.

“Come around the bench, Miss Hawkeye,” Judge Grause gestures for her to approach.

She takes her stack of files and finds herself hunched beside the judge.

“I filed the amended complaint on Monday of last week, your honor. I understand that this could become an appellate issue but this defendant cannot continue to be out of custody according to criminal code 6-7.83. He’s already attempted contact with key witnesses,” Riza reminds the judge.

“I am aware of that, Miss Hawkeye, do you have the um… the arraignment transcripts on hand?”

Riza starts shuffling through her documents as the defense team stands.

“Your honor, my client has an important meeting in family court a few floors down. I ask that we expedite the release proceedings.” Attorney Matsen says with a nod towards his client.

“I am disinclined to grant that request, Mr. Matsen, seeing as I don’t have your written argument for the accused to remain out of custody.” Judge Grause says.

“Well… your honor we’ve already gone over… we included an affidavit-”

“I’m not interested in the affidavit, sir, I’m interested in the legal code that states I should continue to allow your client to remain out of custody. Which it seems you are unable to provide at this time, is that correct?”

Riza flicks her gaze up from her shuffling to get a good look at the defense table.

“Well… we… we have uh… according to the dobber code-”

“I’m not asking for evidentiary violations, I’m not asking about the arrest, I’m specifically asking about custody, Mr. Matsen. Do you have a legal argument for why this defendant should be allowed to remain out of custody? Written or otherwise.”

The defense starts to relitigate why their client did not break his bail agreement and Riza barely holds back an eyeroll.

“Alright, Mr. Matsen, please take a seat.” Judge Grause removes her glasses and rubs her temple briefly. “The court finds that, in accordance with Amestrian penal code 6-7.83 the defendant shall return to custody until trial date-”

“Fuck that bitch!”

Riza’s gaze snaps from the judge back towards defense counsel. It all happens in comical levels of slow motion. The looks on Matsen and co’s faces as they watch their client yell at the judge. Matsen’s hand raises to his forehead, not in disbelief but something more akin to ‘I shouldn’t be surprised but I am’.

Then there’s the defendant, still unshackled and pissed that he’s about to be shackled again. The rage in his eyes could be translated to the funnies page in the times and Riza would be less surprised than she is now.

The fact that he’s getting closer nearly misses her notice, the fact that he vaults over the judge’s bench does not . She’s even impressed that he completely clears the desk given that it’s almost five feet off the ground. Perhaps that’s why she doesn’t immediately jump into action when the defendant starts pummeling the judge.

Riza glances back at the gallery and doesn’t see a damn bailiff anywhere. It makes her head spin when she realizes that she’s the only one close enough to do anything about this.

“Holy shit get a bailiff, Creighton!” She finds herself screaming as she lunges at the defendant and manages to get him in a choke hold.

The pair of them stumble over documents that scattered the floor, Riza’s fairly certain she twists her ankle on a coffee mug which is corroborated by the fact that her newly shoeless foot sinks into the coffee-soaked carpet… the cleaners will not be happy about that one.

She and the defendant fumble over each other for a moment until she bends him over the judge's bench and manages to slam him down.

The defendant is still screaming obscenities and some of them are quite creative combinations, but Riza is unable to focus on him for long when she notices the absolute pandemonium of the gallery. Not because she’s got the defendant effectively apprehended, but because her own co-council is lying on the ground - seemingly unconscious. Good grief.

Unfortunately, while she’s distracted the defendant worms his way out of her grasp enough to elbow her hard in the jaw and knock her off balance. She manages to wrap one hand around his neck before he can get too far and squeezes hard enough to bring him to his knees. Though she wobbles unsteadily the entire time. Which is unsurprising given that she doesn’t know where her fucking shoe went, her stocking is still wet with coffee, and her face hurts from the assault.

She is able to grab the defendant’s arms again… not without taking an elbow to the hip and a snap underfoot which she can only hope is a pen and not her other heel breaking. The defendant starts thrashing, raging against her hold as he stands up, her feet are no longer able to reach the ground. Her back slams into the wall as he tries to shake her but she uses the wall as a sort of spring board, knocking him back onto the desk, this time with her entire weight on him.

There are then two pairs of hands grasping the defendant's biceps and before she has time to process what’s happening, she’s tumbling off of the desk and onto the ground… at least she’s no longer confined to the tight space of the bench.

She’s never taken the time to really look at the ceiling of the courtroom before… not that there’s much to see up there, but in the brief moment she has to breathe she takes in the crown molding and thinks to herself, ‘yep… law school was totally worth it for this’.

The sounds of the enduring scuffle cause Riza to cover her face with both hands and let out a disbelieving laugh.

“Um, ma’am,” a devastatingly attractive young man in uniform stands over her. “You’re uh… your skirt’s out of sorts… Ma’am?”

She’s always had a thing for men with dark hair and dark eyes, and here’s this man standing over her with a furrowed brow trying to get her attention. As if he doesn’t have it, completely undivided, and just as she’s looking over his features again to properly appreciate the cut of his jaw, his hand is on the hem of her skirt and she snaps out of it.

“What are you doing?”

He manages a thin chuckle, “Your underwear’s out, I was trying to get you to notice.”

Her face fills with flush and she starts laughing all over again. “Okay.”

“Okay?”

She snickers pulling her skirt back down to a work appropriate length… even if it’s now quite torn. “Can you find my shoe, please?”

“Your shoe?”

“I lost it behind the bench,” she gestures to her coffee soaked stocking and notices the broken heel on her remaining shoe.

He passes a bemused look over his shoulder and rises to his feet. Riza pulls herself into a half seat, adjusting her blouse and running a hand along her sore jaw. The defendant is now pinned beneath the weight of two bailiffs perched above him and his hands are bound to the floor, seemingly by alchemy. Then she sees a very familiar soldier standing by and shaking his head.

“Major Hughes, I take it your day is going as well as mine,” Riza chuckles, waving at him.

“I think you’ve had a worse one than me for once, Miss Hawkeye, I’m usually the one causing problems in your courtroom, not the other way around.” Maes laughs.

Riza yanks her broken shoe off her other foot, “It was my turn.”

“And what a job you did, never change.”

“I think we might have to delay our meeting.”

“What makes you say that?” Hughes asks dryly.

“Can we get back up in here!?” One of the bailiff’s calls.

“Fuck you!” The defendant thrashes on the floor and elbows one of the bailiffs so hard he stumbles back.

Maes grimaces at the still struggling defendant and seems to have a moment trying to figure out how he can help. Once he decides he can’t intercede any further he glances back over at Riza. “I’ll bring you dinner?”

“You’re a saint,” she huffs at the sight of the other soldier returning to her side empty handed. She’s a little relieved, to be honest, the idea of putting on one heel with her coffee soaked stocking makes her shiver internally. Then and only then does she realize that her hair clip must have also broken somewhere along the way, given that her hair is now sticking to the back of her neck.

“Sorry to say it but I think your shoe may be a casualty we can’t recover.” The soldier smiles at her, some mix of pity and honest amusement lingers in his eyes. He’s so handsome her throat tightens at the sight.

“How devastating,” she responds blithely as she starts to shimmy out of her stockings.

“Woah I-”

“Listen, half of this courtroom has already seen my panties and I’m not about to sit through my statement in wet stockings. We can re-introduce ourselves later and I’ll be the picture of propriety, okay?” She yanks off the somehow still intact pantyhoes with very little effort… of all the things to get out of this without injury…

“Sounds like a plan,” he nods. “Just tell me how to help. Do you need to go to the med bay?”

She looks at him and chuckles, “This is a courthouse not a military compound. Beyond that I’m fine, just a bruise or two.”

“If you’re sure,” he nods once, still kneeling by her side.

“Paul!” Riza calls over to the intern who is still sat shell shocked by everything going on around him. He comes to attention at the sound of his name. “Take all our case files back to the office!”

The intern starts scrambling to grab their files and Riza cringes knowing she’ll have to reorganize those when she gets back.

“Already giving out orders,” Maes notes with a laugh.

“Someone has to,” she insists, balling up the stockings and trying to ignore the sticky feeling at the bottom of her foot… that and if she looks she’ll have to notice the slight swelling of her ankle.

“Miss Hawkeye, we’ll need you to come with us for a statement.” One of the bailiffs approaches her with a grimace.

“Hey, John, you’re late to the party.” Riza looks at him with a glare. “Where were you?”

He withers from her intense gaze, “We were transferring another inmate and… sorry.”

“Damn right,” she agrees with a curt nod. “Sorry to bother you, sir, could you-”

“Not sure you should be walking around the courthouse barefoot, not to mention that ankle looks like it hurts.” The soldier tells her earnestly.

“Then if you could kindly help me get out of here, I’d appreciate it.”

He smiles and scoops her into his arms in one swift motion, Riza nearly chokes on her own spit as her arms instinctively wrap around his neck.

“Oh my,” Maes fans himself playfully and if Riza weren’t blushing before she certainly is now… no one can know about this, ever .

“Maes, would you be a doll and ask my secretary to bring my spare clothes down to me?” Riza asks, forcing her voice to command the respect she deserves… her lack of dignity at the present notwithstanding.

“Absolutely, see you tonight,” Maes waves at her as the stupidly attractive man finally whisks her away to the nearest private room.

Luckily, he deposits her in a chair and kindly asks once more if she needs anything else before he disappears from the room. If she’s lucky she’ll never see him again and they’ll become a strange footnote in one another’s stories… she’s not a lucky person but she can dream.

As the MP enters the room Riza has a sinking suspicion that her day is about to get much longer. At least she’s allowed to ice her jaw for the duration… little victories and all that.

The initial statement takes all of an hour to complete and Riza is getting a little impatient. She’s annoyed, her body is aching, and she’s certain she looks atrocious. The MP tells her that the investigations office will be in touch and she makes certain he knows that if no one else is pressing charges, rest assured that she most certainly is.

He’s gone from the room for all of two minutes when her secretary finally bursts into the room.

“Riza! Oh my god are you okay!?” Rebecca asks skirting around the table to grasp onto her shoulders.

“I’m fine, Becca, did you bring me my spare clothes?” Riza asks.

“Fuck the clothes I want to hear everything!” Rebecca says tossing a shopping bag - that presumably has the change of clothes within - onto the table.

“I can talk and change, I feel disgusting,” Riza says. “Did you bring a brush?”

“I brought everything, I heard you got princess carried out of the courtroom by a hunk of man so
I am doing you a service.”

Riza peaks into the bag and notices that the clothes are not her own. “Rebecca-”

“Before you say anything, yes it’s still work appropriate, just a little… sexed up because you deserve it.” Rebecca teases, “And for once, you have to listen to me since your other option is… well, a busted blouse and a torn skirt.”

Riza fixes her with a glare but Rebecca smiles serenely at her. Riza has Rebecca help her to the bathroom before hastily changing into the outfit being inflicted upon her.

Rebecca’s style could be a lot worse, the dress hugs her curves and dips lower than she would normally deem appropriate for the office… still, she admits it’s not inappropriate , just not what she would have chosen for herself. She pulls on the heels because she would simply rather die than go without but her ankle is screaming in them as she attempts to fix her lipstick.

“And you’re sure you don’t want to go to the hospital? You might be concussed,” Rebecca points out offering a perfume roller to her boss.

“I’m not concussed, and besides, if I show up to the hospital battered by a defendant I’ll never hear the end of it from my mother.” Rebecca grimaces and Riza sighs, “How many times did she call?”

“Three for sure while you were in court… probably a dozen since I went shopping.”

“You bought this? Becca you can’t do that,” Riza groans.

“Hey it’s my money I can do what I want, besides, you’re always paying for lunch and coffee for me. This is me paying it forward.”

Riza smirks at her friend, “Help me back to my office?”

“Or I could go find that soldier to come carry you.”

“Don’t you dare!” Riza taps her friend’s shoulder.

“Fine, I won’t… but I will be snooping to find out who that guy is. You really didn’t get his name?”

“No… and I’m just fine with that.” 

“If I can’t use my legal research skills for finding you a man, what has this all been for?” Rebecca teases.

Rebecca loops an arm around Riza’s waist and helps her hobble out of the bathroom back to her office. Rebecca’s phone is ringing and Riza rolls her eyes.

“For the love of god,” Riza groans as Rebecca opens the door to Riza’s office. “You’d think the woman was unemployed or at the very least retired.”

“I could make up an excuse, maybe it’s not even her.” Rebecca offers as she tentatively allows Riza to limp back to her desk.

Riza laughs, plopping down in her desk chair. “If it’s not her I’ll go to the hospital no questions asked.”

Rebecca lingers by the door as the phone stops ringing, “Hey wonder of all wonders, she hung up.”

They share a laugh, knowing full well that this is not the last they’ll hear from Mrs. Hawkeye.

“How have you been, Becca?” Riza asks with a smile.

“Ugh I’m having a crisis because the new bailiff is painfully attractive.” Rebecca laments theatrically.

“Is it John? I’ve got problems with John,” Riza chuckles as she tries to get her bearings… what had she been doing before the pandemonium?

“Absolutely not, I think his name is Weston.”

“You think?”

“Well I haven’t spoken to him yet, obviously.”

“Obviously,” 

“And he’s always in court and I’m always in the office so I only ever see him in the cafeteria!” 

“Will horrors never cease,” Riza responds blandly as she resumes the paperwork she’d abandoned before racing off the court. 

Rebecca’s phone starts ringing behind her, “It’s-”

“Can you make a quick coffee run for me, Becca?” Riza groans.

“Macchiato or latte this time?” Rebecca snickers.

“Whatever you’re getting, just make mine a double with extra vanilla,” Riza tosses Rebecca a few cenz for the order.

She hears Rebecca pick up and mutter quickly before the call is transferred. Riza braces herself for the call before answering. “Ninth district attorney’s office, this is Riza Hawkeye.”

“Riza, honey, I’ve been trying to reach you all day.”

Riza rolls her eyes harder than she has all day - which is really saying something. “ Ma , I’m working.”

“And I am your mother, you need to make time for me. And you know I hate it when you call me that.”

With a suppressed groan Riza raises a hand to her forehead, “What is it?”

“Just making sure you’re free tonight, I’m having friends over and they want to see you.”

“I can’t tonight, I have to catch up on a case that ran long,” Riza insists weakly.

“You can spare five minutes to say hello to Evelyn and Laura, they practically raised you.” Her mother tells her dismissively. 

“Unless they’re planning to stay all night, I’m busy and I don’t know when I’m getting out of here.”

“They’re working you too hard, honey, you need to start saying no to more cases.” Her mother’s admonishment is so familiar Riza can almost pretend she’s still twelve coming home from school with banged up knees… She nearly laughs, the more things change the more they stay the same, she thinks as she rubs her bruised jaw.

“I know, I’m doing what I can, I’ll call before I stop by to see if they’re still around.” Riza compromises without a second thought, finally finding the offending document that had been eluding her.

“If it’s after ten, don't bother, I'll be asleep.”

“So you do have a cut off time.” Riza holds in a humorless snort.

“I’m needed at the hospital before seven tomorrow morning.”

“Well, if I don’t see you tonight I’ll see you Sunday for lunch,” Riza starts to sign all of the briefs she’s been submitting.

“You know, Laura says that there’s a young man she met at her son’s work party last week-”

“If I don’t have time for more cases I definitely don’t have time to date, mom,” Riza points out.

“If you find yourself a husband to take care of you there’ll be no need for you to keep working in that horrible office.” Her mother points out abruptly.

“We’ve been over this, I like my job.”

“Couldn’t you have just become a secretary like most of the other girls your age? You work too hard and I hate thinking about you surrounded by criminals.”

“I know, I’m safe, I promise,” Riza deliberately ignores the thrum of pain in her ankle.

“Alright well… his name is Anthony and-”

“I have to go, if I don’t call you I’ll see you Sunday.”

“Saturday,” her mother insists.

“Sunday,” Riza counters as Rebecca reenters the office. “Bye.”

“I love you my stubborn girl.”

“Love you too.”

“And make sure-”

“Bye,” Riza hangs up before her mother can wrangle her into a longer conversation.

“You’re a saint,” Rebecca chuckles, passing off the coffee and the remaining change.

“Did you know that most girls my age are secretaries?” Riza chuckles into her latte.

Rebecca feigns a dramatic gasp, “Oh my god, really? Are you sure?”

“And if I found a man to take care of me I wouldn’t be surrounded by criminals.”

“Well, that part is true, technically.”

“Nevermind the fact that she’s a single mom,” Riza snickers. “But a man could save me, obviously.”

“Obviously,” Rebecca clinks their paper cups together and then scurries out of the office to get back to work.

Riza spends the next few hours compiling briefs and editing her intern’s paperwork. She needs to get through it because her meeting with Maes creeps ever closer and now she’s even more on edge about the whole thing… hopefully his hunch is correct.

The general consensus in the ninth district attorney’s office is that Roy Mustang is a good for nothing womanizing prick - in perhaps a little gentler words. The clerks, typists, and court reporters talk about him over lunch anytime he appears in the papers:

He’s so handsome but those are the ones you have to look out for!

I wouldn’t be surprised if in a few years we receive some kind of allegations in this very office.

Oh I saw that club singer hanging off of him in the Gazette the other day! He was even in uniform!

But wouldn’t you just?

I am curious.

He is too handsome for his own good.

Riza has, for the most part, ignored the gossip - which is a general rule of hers for walking through life, gossip has its uses but it often leads to speculation. Speculation is, of course, objectionable in court and as such Riza likes to avoid doing it in her personal day-to-day.

She likes to form an opinion about someone based on the facts - that’s why she’s an attorney. Indisputable, verifiable proof that someone is what they say they are (or, rather, what other people say they are) and she prefers to come to her own conclusions.

That having been said, the facts she has about Roy Mustang are as follows:

1. Roy Mustang is 26 years of age, making him the youngest State Alchemist and Lieutenant Colonel in the Amestrian Military.
2. His mastery of flame alchemy was instrumental in ending the Ishvalan Civil War, and granted him the Medal of Valor - the highest honor a living military officer can be awarded.
3. He’s a friend of Maes Hughes, who believes that the flame alchemist may be able to help Riza in a case gone wrong. 

There’s a knock at the door and it jolts Riza into realizing she’s been sitting in an almost completely dark room. Rebecca went home over an hour ago so it can only be one person. She flicks on the overhead lights as she answers the door. Before her stands Maes Hughes and the other officer who helped her get that defendant off of the judge, just her luck.

Riza swallows her pride as she smiles at the pair.

“Ah, Major, good to see you again, sorry for the delay.”

“No problem, Miss Hawkeye, you had your hands full today,” Maes chuckles.

“Give me a moment to grab my coat and we can head out,” Riza turns back to her desk and tries her best not to hobble.

“Actually I was going to get take away for us, I just wanted to grab your order before I head out,” Maes says. “By the way, I hope you don’t mind, I brought a plus one.”

Riza leans against the desk more than she wants to acknowledge. “Not a problem at all.”

Maes practically beams at her as he slaps a hand on Mr. Handsome’s shoulder, and any hope that she still had that her impromptu savior was not Roy Mustang flies out the goddamn window.  “Miss Hawkeye, I'd like to introduce you to my reluctant friend Roy Mustang. Roy, this is Riza Hawkeye, best prosecutor in the county.”

“Certainly the one who finds the most trouble,” Riza chuckles. 

“Pleasure to meet you, Miss Hawkeye,” Roy nods. 

“You as well. I hope you weren’t off put by the um… commotion from earlier.” And you know… seeing my underwear.

“Not at all, in fact I’ve brought a peace offering.” She looks over and can’t help but laugh as he presents the shoe she’d lost earlier. “Here you go, Cinderella”

“My, what a gentleman. If only I hadn’t thrown the other one away,” Riza chuckles, taking the pump out of his hand.

“Keep it like a trophy,” Maes suggests with a snicker. “Anyway, I’m running down to Romni’s - can I grab you something in particular?”

Riza graciously puts in her order and Maes gives the pair a simpering smile before excusing himself.

“You’re free to ignore his posturing, Miss Hawkeye, he’s got a bad habit of thinking he knows best.”

“Frankly, Colonel, I’m hoping he does know best this time,” she says, gesturing to the seat opposite her desk.

“Lieutenant Colonel, ma’am, though I appreciate the sentiment,” he responds, sitting only once she has.

“From what I hear, you’re Amestrian military royalty,” she says. She’s pleased to see the way that he barely reacts to the idea, although she does catch the hint of distaste for the term and that endears her even further.

“Well, that’s not how I’d put it, and I think that since we’re having this meeting to begin with you’d agree with me.” Mustang perches his chin in his hand as he leans forward.

Riza tilts her head to one side, a laugh rolling off her tongue. “So I take it you’ve received a case brief?”

“Something like that; Maes didn’t give too many details. I have to say, from what I’ve heard it sounds like you should be going to the MPs, not an officer  in the military.”

“The MPs have all but told me I’m crazy,” Riza says with a shake of the head. “I’m certain you’re familiar with that particular affliction?”

“Being branded as crazy? You could say that I have,” he smirks.

“And no one forced you to come meet me, Colonel, so you must be at least a little bit interested.”

He leans back in his chair, clearly calculating his next move. “Maybe you could explain in your own words what you think is going on exactly.”

Riza pulls out a case file - it’s public record so not exactly illegal to do but definitely would be frowned upon if she were found out.

“Defendant Major General Jeremy Bristol, aged 61, retired from military life two years ago after his elderly father passed away and he inherited the family oil company. The business was already under investigation for fraudulent activity in the supply chain as well as collusion with the Amestrian military. When the case was finally brought, Bristol and six other board members were convicted on most of their charges.

“While most of the other defendants paid their fines and began their prison sentences, Bristol has never surrendered himself. It’s been four months since then and he has never been placed on a wanted list or received further charges for evading the law.”

The Colonel flips through the notices from the court, the sentencing documents, and the numerous attempts at contact that Riza herself has attempted with authorities.

“How frank can I be, Colonel? Or should I shut up and go back to pencil pushing like Officer Dyer suggested,” Riza rests her chin on her laced fingers.

“Well, I’d say we’re past mere formalities given our introduction.” He’s teasing but there’s a spark of interest in his eyes.

“This whole situation screams cover up to me,” she says.

“I agree,” he says, tossing the files back onto the desk.

“Corruption of some kind, and if I’m not mistaken, he’s got someone in the upper brass in his corner.”

“So you want me to do… what exactly?” Mustang leans back in his chair.

“At the very least I need him to turn himself in for his prison sentence. I’ve reported him too many times and the MPs have stopped listening to me. But I’m sure you’ll be able to find something even more interesting going on. I’m willing to look the other way, especially since the whole military structure is out of my wheelhouse. Whatever you find may help you in your own pursuits.”

“And what do you know of my pursuits, Miss Hawkeye?” Mustang chuckles.

“I’m sure that you’re a strapping young soldier who wants what’s best for his country; cleaning up corrupted officials falls perfectly in line with that.”

He hums thoughtfully. “Is that all you know about me?”

She flicks her gaze over him again, admiring the crisp, clean appearance of his uniform, the air of importance he carries; she finally sees the defiance in his gaze she was hoping to find.

“That’s all I know about you, precisely,” she says. “I could stand to learn a bit more.”

“Then Maes hasn’t brought you in?” Mustang looks intrigued by that.

“I told him I’m someone who likes to go to the source; I don’t form opinions based on second hand information or conjecture. I’m sorry if that puts you off or if this feels like an interrogation, it’s just how I see and do things.”

He chuckles. “Apologizing for integrity? What a world we live in.”

Riza can’t fight the smile that forms even if she tried; she hates that she doesn’t want to fight it at all.

“You haven’t accepted or denied my request, Colonel.”

“I haven’t. What’s in it for me?”

“Besides helping an up and coming prosecuting attorney when she’s up against the stone wall of injustice?” He laughs as she exaggerates her statement. “My next step is to go to a friend of mine in journalism with this story. If we deal with this quietly we can spin the narrative in whatever way you want it to go.”

“You’re giving me the power of propaganda?”

“And why not? Fight fire with fire, I say,” Riza teases. “So, what’ll it be, Colonel? As you can see I have little to offer in resources, but I make up for it in connections.”

“You think you’re not a resource, Miss Hawkeye? Not many can boast of a resume as complete as yours,” Mustang points out.

“I thought it was obvious I was included in that,” Riza teases.

“In what capacity? Informant? Advisor?” He smirks at her.

“I think that depends entirely on the situation. After all, I doubt either of us are playing the short game, Colonel.”

“So pledging long standing loyalty? I’m flattered.” He leans his elbows on the desk.

“Only if you’re really planning to make us a better world.” She taps her pen against the case files.

He glances up at her, his gaze is vaguely scrutinizing. “Aren’t we all?”

“I spend my days surrounded by people who would beg to differ,” she shrugs.

“And you have no problems playing dirty when you have to,” he teases.

“I mean… I didn’t throw a single punch.”

“No but you did keep him off the judge and restrain him with more success than I would have expected from a simple attorney. Hell, I know soldiers who would have been less capable.”

“Now who’s flattering who?”

“Perish the thought, I’m very obviously flirting,” he winks and she laughs in response.

“My apologies,”

 “I… I have to ask, Miss Hawkeye, have we met before? You look familiar.”

Riza shakes her head. “I never forget a face, handsome or otherwise.”

“Oh you think I’m handsome then?”

“You don’t have to be the only one flirting, especially if it gets me what I want.”

He feigns a grimace, one hand clutching his heart. “Ouch, I’m being used.”

“Sounds like you might be used to it, Colonel.”

“Maybe… but still,” he purses his lips. “One more addendum to our unofficial contract then.”

“Sure.” She finds herself leaning in closer.

“If I do this for you, apprehend Bristol and bring to light any potential illicit activities, I get to take you to dinner.”

She bites her inner lip. “And why should I agree to that?”

“You like to go to the source right? Who better to explain my motivations than me? I do this for you, we go to dinner, I explain my own stance and then we decide if we take up a more… permanent partnership.”

“Partnership, huh?” She muses over that idea for a moment.

“I could use a rising star in the prosecutor’s office on my team. You’re going places, Hawkeye, and I want to be a part of that.”

She chuckles, “You might be bad for my reputation.”

“Then maybe your reputation is too clean for you to be getting mixed up with someone like me.” He shrugs, and something about that implication irks her.

“Someone like you? The golden boy of the military?” She raises a brow.

“Is that what gets out to the general public? I’ll have to thank my PR team,” he laughs.

She looks down; in her periphery she catches a glimpse of the shoe he retrieved for her and her heart feels like it’s falling for a moment. She’s not sure she likes that feeling, but she knows what her gut is telling her to do.

“I agree to your terms, if they’re still on the table.”

He grins at her. “Miss Hawkeye, you have a deal. Pleasure doing business.”

They shake hands; his are warm and rough against her own, and she suddenly finds she is unable to make eye contact. 

“Can I take this file off your hands?” He asks, sliding the folder off her desk once more.

“So long as I get it back before the conclusion of your investigation,” she agrees. “Can’t have anyone thinking I lost a file.”

“Of course not.”

There’s a knock at the door, spurring Riza to her feet but the Colonel beats her to it.

“I’ll get it. Besides, it seems like your ankle is none too happy about those shoes.”

She chuckles, “They weren’t my first choice, obviously.”

He smirks at her as he opens the door and in walks Maes Hughes holding a to-go bag filled with pasta and bread.

“Hope you two got acquainted while I was gone, they’re always so fast down there.” Maes wiggles his brows at her in an unspoken I told you so sort of way. She offers him an impassive smile, not giving away a thing. She’s certain the colonel will detail their meeting later.

“Any restaurant that caters to the courthouse has to stay on their toes,” Riza offers the comment with a hint of humor.

“And you certainly would know about that,” Maes teases, flicking his gaze to her newest trophy.

“I’m never living this down am I?” Riza feels the slight dread seep in.

“Welcome to being a hero,” Roy scoffs as he tosses her a pack of plasticware.

Maes starts giving her the basic rundown of his investigation for one of her cases. Everything is going to schedule - a rarity - and he’ll be ready to turn over his findings in the next two weeks. Riza has no qualms getting into the nitty gritty details in front of Mustang, mostly because he keeps his mouth shut. By the time eight pm rolls around, she’s actually gotten some work done and she is feeling more at ease than she usually allows herself.

Finally she locks up her desk and tentatively stands up, trying not to pay attention to her still throbbing ankle… maybe she should get that checked out…

“You’ll have to tell Gracia that I’m sorry for keeping you, sir.” Riza leans on her desk as the soldiers gather their things.

“Not at all, she has the ladies over when I’m out. I’m sure she’d thank you for keeping me out of her hair.” Maes shrugs on his coat with a laugh. 

Riza forces a laugh as she grabs her own coat; Mustang’s hand quickly replaces her own and she allows him to help her into it.

“I’ll have to insist on taking you home, Miss Hawkeye, I’m afraid we kept you too late to entertain otherwise.”

Riza chuckles to herself as she pulls her hair free from the collar of her coat. “My car is still in the lot. I’ll be just fine, I assure you.”

She turns and there’s Mustang still close behind, a wry smile tugging at his lips, something like fondness or intrigue hanging in his gaze. It gives her pause, looking into his eyes like that; he very nearly steals the breath from her lungs with that gentle expression.

The snort from Hughes finally pulls her back into reality. The air is thick with something she would hate to call longing; Riza Hawkeye does not pine after men she’s just met, Riza Hawkeye doesn’t yearn period.

“Major, do you need a ride home?” Riza manages not to blush as she turns to look at the soldier in question.

“Thanks but Mustang’s got a car for the week and he’s promised to take me anywhere my little heart desires,” Hughes teases.

“That’s good to hear, then I’ll see you sometime next week?” Riza tucks a strand of hair behind her ear.

“Well we’re at least walking you to your car. Injuries notwithstanding, it’d be a disservice to our station not to accompany you.” Hughes scoops her briefcase and files into his arms.

“It’s a sprain, nothing more,” Riza insists.

“Humor us,” Mustang offers her his arm and she is powerless to stop her own mind from wandering.

She leans on the colonel and offers small talk for the short walk to her car, all the while she can’t ignore how firm his arm feels in her grasp. She feels like some silly teenager instead of a grown woman, it’s downright embarrassing.

“I hope the rest of your visit in Central goes smoothly, sir, and I hope that today’s excitement won’t scare you off,” Riza says as she rifles through her purse for her keys.

“It’ll take a lot more than a violent defendant to keep me away,” Mustang assures her with a smile.

“Glad to hear it.” She clears her throat as she unlocks the car door. “Goodnight.”

“Goodnight,” Mustang offers her one final parting smile as he backs away towards one of the only other cars in the lot.

“You know, Miss Hawkeye, if I didn’t know any better-”

“If you have even a single working thought you’ll keep your mouth shut, Hughes, I don’t jump into anything head first.” Riza says, adjusting her bag in the passenger seat before retrieving her items from Hughes.

“Fine, I’ll drop it… for now,” he waggles his eyebrows at her as he takes a few steps away. “But I’ll remind you that every world leader needs a first lady.”

She rolls her eyes as she slams the door shut. Her commute home isn’t too long but she finds herself cruising more than usual, her mind running through all that has happened and sorting each moment into neat little categories. She hardly remembers what the morning even looked like, let alone what she talked to her colleagues about.

It’s not until she starts trying to parse the enigma of Roy Mustang that she realizes she doesn’t know what to think of him. She doesn’t have enough pieces to put together a picture and she cannot make sense of what he’s done to her. She understands - of course - that she’s attracted to him, she’d be stupid to not to admit it; but he’s warm and interesting and cares about making their country a better place.

She recalls what Maes Hughes had told her when he suggested asking Mustang for help:

He’s a prick but in the most endearing way possible. In fact, now that I think about it you two will probably get on like a house on fire. He’s going to love you.

The memory has her blushing for some reason and she doesn’t particularly care for the feeling. Roy Mustang has goals and ambitions and she has hers; they’ll be allies while they can and then surely they’ll go their separate ways. Though she can’t fight the nagging feeling deep in her gut that there’s something else going on between them.

Maybe she’s let too many opinions cultivate her own, she can’t help but remind herself what all the office ladies say about him. He’s a player, a flirt, a man who’s always got another girl on his arm, that’s not the type of man to make oneself silly over. Even if he has pretty eyes and a smile that hints at something deeper going on beneath the surface.

She parks her car and briefly wonders how she got home before hobbling into her apartment building. It’s ridiculous… and he’s just a man, a man of the military no less. There’s no future for them, she’s decided in the brief time it took to unpack her things and shimmy out of the dress Rebecca bought her.

Whatever it is Mustang is after it has nothing to do with her, even if she helps him in the small ways she’s able. Still, what Hughes said continues to play over and over again in her mind.

He’ll love you.

Every world leader needs a first lady.   

No, there’s just no way that she will be anything more than allies with Roy Mustang. Even if he proves himself to be as good an ally as Hughes implied, she will not lean into the temptation of furthering their relationship.

Besides, she doesn’t want to be a first lady - she wants to be the one calling the shots.

Chapter Text

Riza is not an overtly emotional person, but even she has her limits. The District Attorney - aka her boss - loves to push said limits on a semi-regular basis. He trusts her, obviously he does considering he offered her a job the moment her internship with Judge Price concluded, but he also enjoys making his employees miserable… apparently.

“Sir, there’s just no way that I can commit to picking up a second degree murder case three weeks before it’s set to go to trial,” Riza says as plainly as possible while trying not to absolutely lose her shit.

“Judge Norris seemed to imply that he’s leaning towards recusal for Mr. Boise after the… most recent hearing.” District Attorney James Frank tries to keep his personal feelings to himself. However, in the extenuating circumstance that he finds out mere weeks before trial that one of his prosecuting attorneys on a case was - allegedly - having an affair with the defendant's wife… well, you’ll have to forgive a guy for being a tad bit emotional.

Right now he’s seething and while Riza isn’t intending to back down, she also completely understands the rage.

“Didn’t he have a fleet of attorneys working on the case? Can’t one of them-”

“All of them are still junior attorneys, none of them are up to the task of leading a three week murder trial,” Mr. Frank cuts her off with a sharp knock to his desk.

“I’m also scheduled to go to trial next week and I just got put on the desertion case-”

Before she can finish explaining her very busy schedule Mr. Boise crops up like a bad rash, his eyes filled with fury as he storms into the conference room.

“James you can’t possibly-”

“Who the hell do you think you are storming in here?” Mr. Frank snaps at the front runner for ‘worst attorney in the office’. This week’s front runner at the very least, Riza thinks as she watches the men start to argue.

“I’ve been working on this case for over a year now-”

“Should have thought about that before you started relations with the defendant’s wife!”

“Those allegations are completely false!”

“Judge Norris is interviewing her as we speak-”

Riza stops listening and starts looking for a way out of this. It’s been eleven days since Judge Grause was attacked by a defendant and Riza had been ambushed into this meeting mere minutes after her deposition ended… yes, the defendant is pleading not guilty. No, she doesn’t know why. Yes, she is exhausted.

“Even if I get kicked off the case she’s not equipped to handle it! It’s an extremely nuanced and intricate case for someone so delicate to deal with.”

Riza practically sees red as she is yanked out of her thoughts to glare at him. “Well maybe if someone didn’t over charge the defendant it wouldn’t be such a difficult case to try! You shit in your own yard, Boise!”

“Miss Hawkeye that’s- that’s-”

“Children! Sit down!” Mr. Frank’s harsh tone ceases the argument immediately. However, Riza does not sit down, she sheepishly looks to the ground instead. “Both of you need to get a grip. Mr. Boise, you’re in a whole other world of trouble. Miss. Hawkeye, we will continue our discussion later. Take these down to the archives and cool off, I’ll be in contact through your secretary.” 

Mr. Frank passes her a stack of files and sends her on her way. Riza is barely three steps away when the shouting resumes. She rolls her eyes so hard she sees a bit of brain matter.

“R-… Miss Hawkeye, how did it go?” Rebecca’s voice is something of a comfort after the horrendous morning she’s had.

“Oh, just fine,” Riza sighs, a small smile forming on her lips.

“That’s great. Listen, I’ll take these off your hands. The archives right?” Rebecca steals the files from Riza in a hurry. “Also I’m leaving early today, remember? I have a doctor’s appointment so you’ll have the office to yourself.”

Riza narrows her gaze at Rebecca as she babbles. “Don’t tell me you’ve got a crush on your doctor now.”

“Hm? God no!” Rebecca looks offended by the assertion.

“So-”

“By the way I think you’re a bit too buttoned up for a day out of court,” Rebecca reaches forward and snags Riza’s hairclip.

“Rebecca what the hell-”

“Also your mother called but I told her your meeting ran long and that you’re out of the office for a few depos. Nothing about the judge jumper case, don’t worry.” Rebecca pulls out a tube of lipstick and practically rips the cap off.

“What is going on?” Riza snips, running her fingers through the now loose locks of hair.

“I’m helping you, go with it.” Rebecca dabs a bit of color onto the center of Riza’s lips.

“Ok?”

“So while I’m at the dentist-”

“I thought you said you were going to the doctor?”

“I uh… am double booked?”

“Okay,” Riza shakes her head, dejected.

“I’ll handle these, and don’t worry, I cleared your schedule.”

“Rebecca, you can’t clear my schedule when I don’t even know why you’re double booked for the dentist and the doctor,” Riza smirks at her friend.

“Just trust me, good luck… oh! And I will be forcing you to get drinks this week so I can get all the details.” Rebecca prances down the hallway towards the archives and Riza thinks about not going to her office at all. Still, if her schedule is cleared for the afternoon that means she can catch up on her motion for sanctions in the Doughty case she’s fallen behind on. 

Just as she’s finished mentally organizing the rest of her schedule she opens the door to her office to find none other than Lieutenant Colonel Roy Mustang. Her breath catches in her throat as she tries to remain composed.

“Lieutenant Colonel, what a surprise.” She is going to kill Rebecca for not warning her about this.

He stands up and smiles at her. “Miss Hawkeye, sorry for dropping in unannounced, I just happened to be called in for a deposition this morning and thought I’d stick around.”

“Of course,” Riza chuckles. “Hope you’re having a better morning than me.”

“Unlikely,” Roy snickers. “But I also have a gift for you.”

He holds out the file he procured from her previously, though it looks a bit thicker and worn on the edges. She takes the file in question and feels a bit of weight lift off of her shoulders. 

“Ah yes, legal filings, what every girl dreams about.”

“I thought about bringing flowers but I assumed that would be a bad look if we’re becoming associates.” He shrugs, though there is a hint of regret in his tone that she detects. 

“And associates we are, I presume,” she says, pulling the documents firmly to her chest.

“I think you’ll find the little gift I left in that file gives you the bigger picture.” He flashes her an even bigger smile as he gestures to the documents in question. “So, about that dinner…”

Now she feels a coating of pink blush settle on her cheeks. “Well I… should make sure it’s… credible first.”

“How about tomorrow night? Hughes suggested some place called The Grove.”

Again, Riza nearly chokes on her own spit; what the hell is Hughes trying to pull? Well, she knows exactly what he’s trying to pull, if that comment about being a first lady was actually grounded in some reality… but Roy Mustang cannot, under any circumstances, take her to one of the ritziest restaurants in Central.

Instead of sputtering and choking, she spits out a laugh. “Maybe some other time, I’m pretty sure you’d need to get a reservation months in advance. Besides, there’s a noodle house two blocks away that has more… private booths for these kinds of meetings. Innocuous too given courthouse staff go there all the time.”

His eyebrows raise just slightly and she can’t tell if it’s because of the revelation about the restaurant or if it’s her suggestion of privacy. Either way, the surprise doesn’t last long and soon he’s grinning.

“Then it’s a date,” he says, offering a hand. She grasps his hand and he turns it over to peck the back of it. “I’ll see you tomorrow at seven then?”

“Make it the day after and you’ve got a deal,” she agrees, trying to sound resolute but certain that there’s a breathy quality to her tone.

“Perfect.” He drops her hand but seems to hesitate to leave.

Riza stops just short of inviting the colonel to get coffee, her mind suddenly racing a mile a minute. This is exactly what Rebecca was hoping for and this is exactly the sort of thing she needs to avoid at all costs. Didn’t she just leave a meeting caused by another lawyer’s (with double her tenure, mind you) indiscretion and an alleged wildly inappropriate relationship? She would be no better than that man, and the idea of that is simply intolerable.

“You’re still here,” she says.

“I suppose I am,” he agrees.

“Did you have something else to tell me, sir?”

“Perhaps it was foolish of me, but I was hoping to see your reaction to what I found.”

She pauses and mulls that over. “If you were any less confident I might agree, but you look a little like the cat that got the cream.”

“I like to think I do good work,” he shrugs.

Biting her lip she gives herself a moment to think. “I have a proposition.”

“Oh?”

“A bet, even.”

“Better,” he teases, folding his arms as she skirts around him to get behind her desk.

“Once the story breaks there’s two ways this can go. Either it’s treated as a wake up call to the public that their government is corrupt, or they find some new fucked up way to spin this as their own due diligence.” She takes a seat at her desk and makes a show of pulling out other files to work on.

He laughs, “You must know it’ll be the latter.”

“Drinks are on you if they decide to be noble then, and drinks will be on me if they’re predictable.”

“What kind of gentleman would I be if I made the lady pay?” he laughs again.

She leans forward, propping her chin in her hands. “Oh, you’re buying dinner either way. I’m inviting you to spend more time with me, after hours of course.”

“Of course,” he nods.

“So,” she yanks open a drawer to her desk and produces a business card. “That contact I promised you, he gets off for lunch at 11:30.”

“Ah yes, media contacts, what every boy dreams about.” His teasing grin as he pockets the business card makes Riza even more flustered.

“What a pair we make, we’re gift giving experts.” She doesn’t allow her smile to linger long as she pulls up the documents he’s traded off.

He hesitates again but this time he nods his head and takes his leave. She can’t focus for a fleeting, albeit prominent moment, and she despises that about herself. Still, she opens the file and reads through a standard military report, the familiar bold typeface lulling her back into work mode with little effort. 

Then she arrives at the description of evidence and her breath catches in her chest. Seized assets from the property investigated included a staggering number of falsified documents, financial reports, and written correspondence between several military officials.

The top of that list being General Hakuro, a name she’s already become far too familiar with in her career. Of all the pocket lining pricks she’s had the displeasure of coming into contact with, Hakuro was one of the slimiest; he could make any attachment look like a mere coincidence.

Certainly, his ties to this one crook aren’t enough to charge him with anything substantial, but she is most definitely filing it away for later. Mustang’s report ends with a copy of an ‘anonymous’ letter to the MPs to investigate the falsification allegations.

Riza feels satisfied with the result of this and leans back into all the other work she has for her own docket. Her mind still drifts back to Colonel Mustang and all the work he put into this case simply because she had a hunch. In a world like that maybe investigating corruption wouldn’t feel like such a shit show.

“Miss Hawkeye? A word.” Mr. Frank raps against the door twice before barging in, case files in hand. Riza stands from her desk and cringes at the sight of the file in his hand. “Now I know you’re not thrilled about this-”

“Sir, if you give me this case the very first thing I will do is file for dismissal,” Riza says sternly. “We are the state, it’s our job to seek the truth and serve justice. Every single filing in that folder is a miscarriage of justice. If you give it to me now I guarantee you it will be done by the end of the week.”

Mr. Frank looks deeply put out by her words. “If you don’t take this case we will have to hire out for a special prosecutor; it’s a bad look. It makes us look like we can’t handle our own case.”

“Clearly, Mr. Boise couldn’t handle his own case. He overcharged the defendant, withheld evidence, and partook in bad faith practices. I have a duty of candor that I actually take quite seriously; I will not posit this case before the court when I do not believe in the state’s theory of the case.”  She folds her arms and gives him a hard look.

He sighs, and tosses the files onto her desk. “Fine, dismiss the case. You can be the one to tell the family why you’re not moving forward with it.”

Riza feels her throat tighten at the thought. “What should I tell them about the previous attorney?”

“That he is under investigation for misconduct, but you are not - under any circumstances - to blame him for the dismissal of charges.” Mr. Frank pinches the bridge of his nose. “I know that you’re doing what you feel is best, but it’s going to feel dirty.”

“I’d have more guilt trying someone without proper evidence.” Riza looks ruefully at the case file on her desk.

“Well… I also need those affidavits from the Grinspoon case before lunch.”

Riza bites back a retort of ‘that’s impossible’ but merely nods in response. “Is there anything else?”

“There’s a shit load more but we can go over it when you brief me at our 3 o’clock.” 

Despite all her bluster, Riza deflates the moment her boss is gone; she doesn’t like the fact that dismissal is the only logical way to move forward, but it has to be done. Defense Attorney Kass is a good lawyer that Riza respects and she feels for him knowing that he has faced an absolutely ridiculous set of odds stacked against his client. Even if - very big if - she got a conviction, the appellate courts would be furious at the handling of this case.

She won’t say the defendant didn’t do it, but she also can’t prove that the defendant did commit the crime. Riza scrambles to throw together her briefing for the court in the Grinspoon case, suddenly relieved that Rebecca cleared her schedule. 

She even manages to get home on time, just after writing up her motion to dismiss.

Mr. Frank puts a meeting with the family of the deceased on the docket; he gives her that look that begs her not to take the moral high ground. She doesn’t listen. The law isn’t always ethical, but it is supposed to be fair, that’s what her law professors always imposed on her. And sure, when she became an attorney she knew that Amestris didn’t have a perfect system… but she didn’t think she’d have to fight so much and so often against her own colleagues.

She is shaking when she arrives to the conference room to discuss the case with the victim’s family. Her heart is lodged firmly in her throat, and then she realizes that she’s alone. As mad as she wants to be, as much as she wants to throw the MPs and Boise and everyone else under the bus for this, she has to accept that for these people she will forever be the villain of their story. She will always be the face of a government that couldn’t help them in their weakest moment. She will always be the woman who refused to seek justice for the death of their daughter.

Riza tries to be gentle, to be kind, while at the same time being reasonable and honest. The mother’s face twists with a very specific kind of rage, she’s seen it more times than she wants to admit - it still feels like a knife embedded in her ribs. The screaming comes from the father, the blind seething rage that no person should ever have to feel. So she takes every second of it with her trademark stoicism and waits for it to be over.

The couple scream until all they can do is sob, and Riza leaves them to their grief. She is unsettled and furious, even if she believes this is the right thing to do. Mr. Frank gives her a nod in the hallway, silent solidarity. If she were less inclined to keep her job she’d tell him to fuck off, but she doesn’t. Instead, she locks herself in her office and finishes a backlog of filings before silently slipping out of the courthouse.

She doesn’t remember driving to her mother’s apartment, the little slice of home the pair of them shared for most of her childhood, but she stands before the door like a little girl coming home from a long day of school.

She barely knocks once before her mother is opening the door and it’s like she can see a window into the future. Her mother practically cloned herself when bringing Riza into the world, a fact the young girl had always held mixed opinions on. It’s like she can see a reflection of who she could become… At least her mother’s aged gracefully with only the pinching of smile lines and a smattering of sunspots to indicate that she is nearing fifty. That bodes well for Riza’s inevitable aging… unless this job takes more than its fair share, but then again her mother had a dead husband to contend with when she was Riza’s age… perhaps they will be equally matched.

“Hi baby,” her mother says gently, reaching out to caress her daughter’s cheek.

“Hey… I was just…” Riza clears her throat when she finds it sticky with emotion.

“Come in, I’ve got a new pasta recipe in the crock pot.” Her mother steps aside, allowing her daughter entry.

“How’s… how have things been at the hospital?” Riza asks, dropping her things at the door and slipping off her shoes.

“Oh same as usual, you know how Brent gets when I pull rank,” she laughs. “As if I haven’t been single handedly keeping the place afloat for well over a decade.”

“You could always take that vacation you’ve talked about, take the ladies to the south and see how he fairs for a month. What do they call that? Sabbatical?”

Riza follows the same route she always takes, first to the sink to wash her hands and then to the bar stool at the island to watch her mother bustle around the kitchen. Her mother returns to her crockpot, stirring the contents and looking at it with displeasure for a moment, like she’s resentful that this is the meal she has to serve her child.

“I call it hell on earth when I get back to find my office in shambles.” Her mother opens one of the cabinets and pulls out a box of candies, handing it unceremoniously to her daughter. “Go put these in your bag, love bug, and plug in the radio before you sit back down.”

Riza refrains from rolling her eyes, but she does think about it. “You know, the likelihood of your radio catching fire while you're gone is extremely low.”

“Any chance is too high, you know that,” her mother chastizes her with a smirk. “You’re looking thin, you haven’t gone back to that ridiculous vegetarian diet again have you? You need the protein, you’re anemic.”

“I’ve been eating fine mom, just stressed,” she tells her, placing the candies beside her purse and plugging in the radio. She has to adjust the knobs again because everytime her mother unplugs the damn thing she loses signal.

“Well, your job is… difficult, sweetie.” Her mother grabs a dish towel and quickly wipes down the counter. “You know you can tell me anything.”

“I know,” Riza sighs as the radio sputters to life. It’s the evening drama that she has long since lost the plot to, but the actors' voices are so familiar and they fill up the space with something other than anguish. She’ll take her wins where she can.

“Did something happen?”

Riza considers the question for a moment and then she grabs a bottle of wine from the bar cart. “Have you been keeping up with the Hollis case?”

Her mother hums thoughtfully and Riza spends the next hour and a half complaining. Nothing too specific, or at least, nothing that isn’t in the public record - Riza would never be caught dead divulging sensitive materials to her mother… but she’s also feeling petty.

They’re each three glasses of wine deep, mediocre pasta sits half eaten in abandoned bowls as the pair lounge on the sofa.

“And the- oh my god mom, this lawyer with more than ten years seniority over me, do you know what he did? He had the audacity to say that I wasn’t equipped to handle it when he didn’t even manage to get the defense a meeting with law enforcement!”

Her mother laughs, rolls her eyes, and tips her glass. “I hope you gave him hell.”

“Ugh, before I could, our boss called him out. I’m so pissed because I know he’s not getting fired but he should, he should and it sucks that he’s not.” Riza leans back and scoffs into her wine, pursing her lips as she mulls over what to say next.

“I wouldn’t care if he were a surgeon at my hospital he’d be out on his ass without a job,” her mother says. 

Riza holds back a note about her mother being a hospital administrative director; she refrains from mentioning that her whole job is to make sure that staff don’t make fools of themselves. She does not remind her that there’s a massive difference between holding a position of power like that for years and being a new lawyer.

Instead, Riza takes her mother’s hand and smirks. “Maybe I’ll report him to the bar to see if I can get his license revoked.”

“Oh I think Dr. Du Pont’s brother is on the board of directors… maybe I can raise some hell.”

“I’ll take it under advisement.” Riza leans back as her mother finishes the last of her wine.

“He’s also got a son a bit older than you, still in residency but I think he’d appreciate a girl with a busy schedule.” 

“Ma,” Riza groans as her mother swats her leg.

“I’m teasing.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“I just want you to be happy, sweetie, and your job doesn’t seem to make you happy.”

“Maybe not happy exactly, but I do feel… fulfilled.” Sometimes, once in a blue moon. “I feel like I’m where I need to be. If I’m going to be in parliament one day it’s important to make connections.”

Her mother gives her a bit of side-eye, clearly holding back the question: are you sure that’s what you want? Why can’t your biggest ambition be something gentler, easier… safer?

“Let me see if I have some ice cream… if I don’t I can run down to the store before they close to grab dessert.” Her mother snatches Riza’s wine glass to put in the sink and Riza holds in a sigh. “Or I can throw together some cookies, would you prefer that?”

“You don’t need to make cookies or serve dessert, mom,” Riza insists.

“I’ll be right back, baby, there’s a sweet young couple that just moved in at the end of the hall, I’ll see if she has blueberries so you’ll have some muffins to take home.” Her mother is gone before Riza can stop her.

She lays back on the couch and feels like she’s fifteen again, staring at the ceiling as her mother tries to convince her not to graduate early.

What’s the rush, angel? Take your time, you’re only young once.

Riza had ignored her mother and in spite of the bitterness she saw in her mother’s eyes when she told her so - her mother had been beside herself with pride when Riza finished grade school that very spring. Her mother wore the same expression when she’d told her about double majoring in college.

Are you sure you want to do that? Cretan Language and Journalism? I thought you wanted to practice law, dear, don’t you want to do something easier?

She hadn’t, in fact, wanted to do something easier. Riza’s never been the type to do anything halfways and she wasn’t about to start in university of all places. She spent a year abroad in Creta and accidentally finished her degrees faster than anticipated. Her mother had tried again to convince her to wait on law school.

You’re so young, love bug, don’t you want to have some fun instead of working so hard? I know you’re ambitious but… don’t you want to slow down?

The truth is, Riza’s never had a reason to slow down. She’s had the same four friends since she and her mother moved here and she has never been particularly invested in dating. And sure, she finds herself dreaming about a future family someday - a husband and kids (at least two, she had always wanted a baby brother) - but that day is extremely far away. She has goals, she has a government to fix, a world to make better before she can make it bigger.

“We have a story breaking out of East City where former Major General Jeremy Bristol has been arrested today in his home after failing to surrender himself almost five months ago.” The radio’s news station ceases to be background noise as Riza sits up, fully at attention.

“According to Military Police Officials, Bristol had been evading arrest and attempting to flee the country. The former General will be receiving additional charges, this time from East City prosecutors. In addition to these charges, his assets have been seized. Following the arrest, the Chief of Police stated that this investigation had begun sometime before Bristol was set to surrender himself and they were waiting to gather more evidence before coming forward with further indictments.”

Riza holds in a snort as she folds over on her knees watching the radio as if waiting to see the report materialize. They don’t mention Mustang by name, but Riza knows, and she thinks it’s for the best that they keep his name out of this case. After all, this is the first instance that ties them together and having an affiliation with a man like that is begging for trouble.

That man… that man who literally swept her off her feet and gave her implicit trust… what a man he is.

“Riza, where is that head of yours?” Her mother’s voice snaps her back into reality. When she got a plate of cupcakes Riza doesn't know.

“Sorry, just got to thinking about work again,” Riza shakes her head. “Where did you get that?”

“Oh that darling couple I told you about, turns out the wife is opening a bakery.” Riza doubts this is a sheer coincidence. “Anyway, you know you can tell me anything that’s on your mind. Work doesn’t usually get you looking starry eyed like that.”

Riza hates that her mother has some terrifying sixth sense about her. How do moms just know things like that?

“Rebecca was just telling me about this guy she wants me to meet,” Riza decides to lie. It’s stupid and ridiculous but it’s so much better than spilling the truth.

“Oh, and who is this guy?”

“Some… friend of a friend, I don’t know. She’s talking him up, and this other friend of ours from law enforcement also keeps talking about him.”

“Couldn’t hurt to try. You never make time for yourself, what’s the harm in going on a date? You’re young, try to have some fun.” Her mother puts on a playful voice to hide the slightest edge of begging in her tone.

Riza will not be ‘having fun’ with Roy Mustang, even if the quietest part of her heart… kind of sort… a little bit… wants to.

“Maybe I will,” Riza concedes.

“Take a cupcake, sweetie, I’ll pack the rest for you to take home.”

“Kicking me out of my childhood home?” Riza laughs.

“If you’re staying there’s fresh sheets in the linen closet,” her mother says, returning to the kitchen to clean up.

“I can do the dishes, mom,” Riza insists.

“Go put your sheets on your bed, if you don’t have any jammies you can borrow some of mine. I think I still have your shampoo and conditioner under the bathroom sink.”

The non-committal language has Riza snorting, her mother always keeps a stock of Riza’s things. She’s always got a spare of anything Riza could ever need.

I never want you to think you’re not welcome here, baby, my home will always be your home.

What she doesn’t say: I want you to know that you will never have to be alone.

Riza wanders into her childhood bedroom, still sparsely decorated with the remnants of what she hadn’t felt the urge to take with her when she’d moved out. A small music box on the dresser that is most definitely broken, a stack of young adult fantasy novels on the desk with an empty pencil cup, and the double bed that she had been so excited about when they’d finally moved into an apartment with two rooms.

She can perfectly recall the thrill of realizing she’d have her own room instead of sharing a bed with her mother. She remembers begging to paint the walls a horrible pistachio green and then begging again to make it lavender when she realized the green looked a shade too close to vomit. She remembers how excited she was, at all of eight years old, sticking butterflies and floral cut outs along the baseboards and how her mother told her they’d deal with it when they moved out. Though faded, those butterflies still float along the walls and the flowers have yellowed but never wilted.

She doesn’t change the sheets on her bed, she changes into the spare night clothes she keeps here and joins her mother for an after dinner decaf. She puts away the dishes when her mother isn’t looking, she turns off the radio when her mother answers an emergency call from the hospital, and she finds herself lounging in her mother’s bed as they talk about nothing and everything. Her mother pinches her cheeks, tells her she’s a pretty girl who shouldn’t waste her youth on terrible things like law practice, and then they fall asleep.

Just as they always do.

Riza is running late to work, not because of her impromptu sleepover with her mother, but because she makes the… incredibly astute decision to swing by her apartment instead of going straight to the court house.

She’s furious with herself; furious because she should not be wasting time like this and furious because why on earth is she going out of her way to pick up a few things for her dinner tonight? It’s not a date, it is two professionals meeting to discuss a partnership. An under the table, explicitly work related, partnership.

She is not going on a date so why is she trying to decide between a red lip or something more natural in the midst of her work day?

“Miss Hawkeye?” Judge Price calls her to attention. “Do you have a copy of the defendant’s motion?”

“Yes, your honor,” she says, shuffling her documents to look for said motion… her intern passes it to her from the gallery.

“Are you prepared to argue the motion or did you need time?” He looks at her skeptically.

“I’m ready now, your honor.” She straightens her blazer and approaches the podium with the - thankfully - highlighted copy of the motion. She should have been prepping this last night instead of gossiping with her mother, and she feels like a silly, stupid girl for shirking her responsibilities.

After the hearing Riza tries to walk with her head held high, even if the embarrassment is eating her alive.

“Riza, you okay?” Rebecca asks, as they exit the courthouse to travel for an offsite deposition.

“Of course, I’m okay,” Riza says. She passes her briefcase and a stack of documents to Rebecca as they climb into her car.

“You seem pretty out of it,” Rebecca notes. “Mind if I take up the back seat to organize all of this?”

“Be my guest,” Riza huffs, turning the key in the ignition and speeding off towards their appointment. “I made the ill-advised decision to spend an evening with my mother on a work night.”

“Hangover?” Rebecca asks, narrowing her gaze at the stack of papers.

“No, just drained, the woman could talk for nine hours straight.”

“Well she did raise you to be the world’s best listener,” Rebecca teases.

“Don’t,” Riza huffs.

“Fine… what’s this?” Rebecca holds up a garment bag and Riza’s face is suddenly warm.

“Uh… dry cleaning,” Riza responds weakly.

“Riza Hawkeye, for a lawyer you are a shit liar,” Rebecca unzips the bag and gasps. “Where the hell did you get this?”

Riza’s throat goes dry, “My mother gave it to me.”

“Uhuh, and what could she possibly be giving you such a gorgeous dress for?” Rebecca raises a brow at her boss.

“Rebecca-”

Rebecca gasps, completely scandalized. “Wait a damn minute! You wore this to last year’s semi-formal! The dinner at General what’s-his-nut’s place! I thought you said you and Mustang weren’t interested in each other!?”

“Hey, it’s not like that!” Riza insists.

“Isn’t it?”

“Look I-”

“You have your makeup bag here too! Bitch explain yourself!”

“I’m trying to!” Riza huffs, stopping abruptly at the light. “Look I’m not even sure I’m going to wear it, I just wanted to have options. And I was being completely honest when I said I wasn’t doing anything with the Colonel; we did just have a work focused conversation.”

“But you want to get dressed up for him.”

“Well I-… would be lying if I said I didn’t think about it. But it’s just a thought and I won't wear it anyway.”

“No you have to, he’s handsome and a State Alchemist which means he’s loaded. Not to mention you both have lofty altruistic goals. It’s a match made in heaven!”

“I completely disagree,”

“Objection, hostile witness.”

“Overruled, that’s an incorrect objection, council,” Riza smirks in the rearview mirror.

Rebecca groans, “All I’m saying is you never go out of your way to find yourself a man or take time for yourself. And since your work with him isn’t technically work, maybe you should live a little.”

Riza bites the inside of her cheek as she thinks about that.

“Besides, who’s going to know? I’m the epitome of a confidante and Major Hughes is tight lipped when he wants to be.”

“It’s not about that… it’s more complicated than… look I’d appreciate it if we dropped this, please? I already have my mother hounding me to get a man, I don’t need you too.”

“Fine,” Rebecca huffs. “If it helps, the dress is gorgeous and I think you should wear it.”

“So noted,” Riza chuckles.

The ride is silent for all of one minute before Rebecca shatters it again. 

“… Since you had to get all this from home… is that why you were late this morning?”

“Oh fuck off.”

The deposition runs long, surprising no one, and Riza finds herself scrambling to get a last minute filing into the judge’s hands before the end of the day. She barely makes it and has even less time to get ready for her… dinner. Which is, all things considered, probably a good thing.

She decides to keep the pants but finds a discarded off the shoulder top in the trunk of her car from another rushed wardrobe change weeks ago. She still has the too-tall heels Rebecca bought her stashed away and when she pulls down her hair she decides she looks pretty. Not like she’s trying too hard… not like she thinks she should be trying at all.

Colleagues. They’re colleagues damn it.

She still rouges her cheeks and decides on a bold red lip because she has no impulse control… as it turns out.

Most of the office is empty and just as Riza is trying to decide if she should change back into her office attire she spots Mustang… and he’s wearing an expensive looking sport coat over a crisp white button up. She’s wondering if she should have worn the damn dress.

“Miss Hawkeye, fancy seeing you here,” he greets her nonchalantly.

“Lieutenant Colonel Mustang, quite the surprise to see you in the court house, third time this week in fact. Don’t tell me you got yourself in trouble with the law.” She has the distinct urge to fix her hair, to tug on the sleeve of her shirt to bring it just a bit further down her shoulder… she doesn’t like that this is where she’s starting.

“I’m afraid it’s the other way around, I’m the one causing the law trouble.” He holds up a file folder, presumably full of documents from whatever investigation has him in Central.

“Good to hear. Those better not wind up on my desk, I’m booked,” she teases.

Mustang smiles at her, silent and appraising, but somehow it doesn’t make her feel uncomfortable. Something in his eyes feels tender, like a gallerist admiring a work that still has him in disbelief.

“Are you ready to go?”

“Yes, ma’am,” he nods, dumping the documents into the inbox of their intended recipient. “I suspect you’ll be my escort for the night. Take me out on the town?”

She smirks, “I’ve read your file, sir, I know you’re a Central City native.”

“So you’ve been looking into me, I expect a full report,” he shoots back, holding the door for her as they exit into the cool evening air.

“How do they do briefings in the military? I’d hate to disappoint.” She leads him to the restaurant and he laughs as he changes the subject. He makes a few surprisingly self deprecating jokes and she finds herself returning them like a call and response.

It’s not until they’re in the restaurant and noticing how empty the place is that they really get into it.

“When you said you needed time to look over my report I have to admit I was surprised,” Mustang says.

She shrugs, “Well, I’ve said it once and I’ll say it again; I don’t like to build a case on conjecture.”

“And that’s why you dropped the Hollis case, right?” He looks down at his glass of water and she appreciates that he can’t see the way she swallows the question.

“That is… correct.”

“It was brave to close such a contentious case.”

She snorts, “It was stupid they brought such high charges in the first place… but you didn’t hear that from me.”

“You’re in good company, I find it’s often the case that the government thinks they can make anything happen for the right price.” Mustang glances around the restaurant once again, the singular waitress is occupied by chatting with the cook. It seems to relax him to see how isolated they are.

“And that price is usually the lives of innocent people, right?” Riza asks cooly.

“You think so?”

“Well, don’t get me wrong, I put a lot of bad people away… I just happen to also see a lot of bad people getting away with all sorts of things they shouldn’t… and some of those people I do convict have committed offenses much smaller than those who get to make the rules.”

Mustang looks at her and then he laughs, muttering something she can’t quite catch.

“What was that?”

He shakes his head. “Hughes told me we’d get along; I hate it when he’s right, makes his damn head too big.”

She raises her own glass of water. “Cheers to that.”

Mustang clinks his glass with hers. “You said he didn’t tell you much, right?”

“He tried to say you were working from the inside ‘like us’ to make things better. I cut him off there, it sounded so lofty and idealistic I almost gagged.”

He snorts into his water and Riza laughs too. “Are you not lofty or idealistic?”

“I didn’t say that, just that I don’t talk about it much.”

“Well, I’m all ears if you care to share with the class.”

“Why don’t you go first, after all, I put my faith in you first.”

“Have to admit, that was a bit strange, usually I’m the one who has to stick my neck out for someone to get their trust.” The waitress walks by and takes their orders before returning to her own conversation. 

“So tell me where it ends, because clearly, it doesn’t stop at becoming the first Flame Alchemist.” Riza props her chin up on her laced fingers.

“It stops at the top of the mountain of course.”

A vague sense of disappointment courses through her. What do you expect? He’s a man of the military, of course he wants the seat of Führer.

“I see, future leader of the world,” she teases. “You’ve got a good head start, almost a General and you’re not even thirty.”

He beams at her. “Well, a lot of that’s dumb luck.”

She laughs again, girlish and bordering on insincere. “How could I possibly forget?”

“Aren’t you going to ask me what my intentions are once I take office?” he asks, almost affronted.

“Oh do tell,” she smirks playfully.

“I plan to make all female military officers and government employees wear miniskirts.”

This time she snorts into her water and he’s the one cackling. “You can’t be serious.”

“And why not? You do know I’m a renowned harlot, right?” He waggles his brows and Riza finds she can’t make eye contact without snickering.

“Well, I wish you luck in your miniskirt endeavor.” Riza wipes the table of the water splatter with her napkin.

“I also intend to reinstate power to parliament, but that’s obviously day two behavior.” She once again stills, glancing up at him to gauge the sincerity of his statement. His eyes tell the story and the truth of the matter behind it.

“Well now, I suppose we do make a pair.”

“I had my suspicions.” Mustang looks pleased with himself, like he guessed some obscure fact in a game of trivia that turned out to be correct.

“Hughes doesn’t know about my ambitions, unless he’s secretly read my diary.”

“I have to admit, it was a deduction I made after looking into your history. Internationally inclined with your degrees, vice chair of the Student Peace movement, hell you even protested the war in Ishval. According to disciplinary records from the school.”

“Seems I wasn’t the only one doing my research.”

“Call it a tick in my personality, I don’t trust just anyone.”

“But you will be a hussy when the time suits you,” she shoots back with a smirk.

He covers his chest with a heavy hand. “Ouch, forgive a guy for having needs.”

Their food arrives and Riza stares at her meal for a moment before asking the question on her mind. “How do you feel knowing I protested the war?”

Mustang locks eyes with her, some unfamiliar swirl of emotions Riza isn’t sure she can name lay out before her.

“Didn’t I call you brave already?” he asks, trying to sound like he’s making a joke, but very much genuine.

“You did,” she agrees. “You fought in the war, didn’t you? It doesn’t bother you that I opposed it?”

Mustang suddenly can’t meet her eyes. “No, it doesn’t bother me.”

“Well I… I appreciate that. To be honest, most people I have met who know… well, it’s not looked at kindly.” She finds herself at a loss for words, struggling to explain what she’s feeling. 

“I think I understand what you mean, after all…” Now Mustang cannot meet her gaze, “I joined the military with delusions of helping people, completely ignoring the fact that I’d signed myself up to be a killer. The war was indescribable and opened my eyes to the kind of people who claim to care for this country. Now I know that in order to do what I set out to do I have to cleanse the rot of the government from the inside.”

Riza looks at him and for a moment, she cannot believe she has only known this man for a few weeks (only spoken to him for a few days no less) but she feels so connected to him.

“I became a prosecutor to help people at their weakest moments find justice but it turns out some of the worst criminals are victims too… those… those sanctimonious assholes in Central Command have made villains of people who had no chance to begin with.” Riza’s voice is low and spiteful. “My first trial as lead prosecutor was against a deserter, he pled criminal insanity but I was encouraged to prove he was sane. Of course he was sane, he ran from Ishval because it was a nightmare, how could anyone… Anyway, I’m sure you have your own feelings on people like that.”

He is completely and utterly enraptured by her, and Riza feels a creeping warmth at the back of her neck as she drops her gaze.

“Sorry, that’s uh… just how I see it, guess I sound pretty childish.” She glances back up and sees him smiling softly, warmly even.

He reaches across the table and grabs her hand, she nearly gasps at the contact. “If you’re childish I’m practically infantile.”

She laughs, a breathy, nervous sound that she hopes doesn’t sound too strained.

“Maybe we should get married,” he gives her a cheeky smile and successfully breaks the tension.

“I see Hughes made that joke to you too.”

“Oh yeah,” he nods, squeezing her hand before leaning back in his seat. “He’s been trying to get me a wife since we returned from the front last year. Sometimes I feel like a debutant and he’s my doting mama .”

“As someone with a doting mama, I offer my deepest condolences.” She muses over what to say next as she finally starts on her dish. “So, future Führer of Amestris, can I count on your help to get me into parliament?”

“Absolutely,” he nods and Riza may be glowing with the confirmation. She’s told almost no one about her lofty ambitions, seats in parliament used to be decided by elections. Now, under the dictatorship, they’re appointed figureheads at best; their power is small but if a man like Mustang can take the role of Führer there may be hope yet.

“Besides, I think you’ll look excellent in a miniskirt,” he tacks on at the end. 

She can’t help but cackle. “When you’re right, you’re right, Colonel.”

“Roy,” he prompts her.

“First names feel like a dangerous game,” she says.

“Well, I’m a dangerous man.”

She rolls her eyes, “Smooth.”

“I can keep a secret, and I bet you can too, what’s one more between… partners?”

She gives him a once over before giving in. “Roy.”

“Riza,” he grins. “Is it short for anything?”

They finally get into eating their dinner instead of talking over it. They share small stories about their week, about the year they’ve had, and who they are as people. She likes him, she realizes. He's so kind and sincere, he makes her laugh too. Then there’s the fact that he also listens to her; she spends so much of her time listening and absorbing from others that it’s a noticeable difference.

She’s glad to work with him, even happier to learn he’s so… he’s so much like her. She blinks the stars out of her eyes, nervous that he’ll notice her looking at him like that and… She reminds herself of Boise, she reminds herself that work relationships never work out. She reminds herself that even if it’s easy to fall for him she can’t… But when he looks at her like that it’s so hard not to.

Once the check is paid Mustang looks reluctant to go and Riza takes his arm without hesitation.

“I’d… I’d bet you’ve got a lot going on while you’re here in Central.” She tucks a strand of hair behind her ear and drops her gaze to their feet.

“Positively swamped, it’s criminal.”

“Not sure I know the legal code for criminal scheduling,” Riza teases.

“God, they’ll hire anyone off the street to be a lawyer,” he jests.

“And you get to deal with the fall out of that,” she squeezes his arm.

“From what I hear you’re quite busy too. Hughes says you’re killing him with trial dates.”

“If he didn’t want to deal with me day in and day out he shouldn’t have become a detective. My job is to give him problems.”

“And you’re so good at it. Keep doing it, humble him.”

She laughs, “If he’s your closest friend I’d hate to see how you treat your enemies.”

“If you’re lucky you’ll never find out,” he bumps her shoulder.

He brings her right to her car back at the courthouse and Riza… Riza doesn’t let go of his arm.

“I’m… I’m looking forward to our work together,” Riza says.

He absolutely beams at her, “Aw shucks.”

“Really, you are… you’re not what I thought you’d be.”

“My, my, Miss Hawkeye, I thought you never made opinions based on conjecture.” He parrots her words back to her, his voice is gentle and low; it makes her stomach twist up inside of her.

“It wasn’t that… I just… well, bias lives in all of us,” she shrugs. Even she’s not sure where she’s going with this but she keeps talking. “I think we’ll make… invaluable allies.”

“That’s the goal,” he says.

Her gaze flicks down to his lips, and for a moment she thinks about kissing him. She imagines his body being as warm as his hands, she imagines pressing her forehead to his.

Then the doubt sets in as she realizes what her imaginings might do to her. Boise is under investigation for his own indiscretion; if/when Mustang does become Führer or she joins parliament, this thing they have now will be highly scrutinized. If anyone finds out that she even entertained the idea she’ll never be taken seriously again.

If there’s one thing she’s learned in this political sphere it’s that men are afforded grace women could never imagine. Mustang would be fine, she would not be. While he might receive a slap on the wrist or even a backhanded compliment about ‘conquering’ her, she’d be branded as a harlot or a slut. She’d have her integrity called into question, no one would ever trust her again, and she’d be pushed out of office for her indecent behavior.

Riza cannot put herself in jeopardy like that so despite every bone in her body willing her to give in, she releases his arm and opens her car door.

“Uh… wait,” Mustang pulls out a card and quickly scribbles a few numbers down. “I’ll be in a small town out East for a few days but if you need anything at all from me here are a few numbers you can try. Let them know Elizabeth’s calling and they’ll know to send you to me right away.”

Riza takes the paper and examines it. “Elizabeth?”

“I give all my people code names. Call me paranoid, but it helps,” he shrugs.

“I see… Maes have one?”

“Of course, but you need higher security clearance for that,” he teases.

“Noted,” she chuckles.

He lingers, briefly but noticeably. “So I… will hear from you sometime.”

“Absolutely, and thank you again… for everything.”

“Of course…” He clears his throat then closes her car door. She fiddles with the phone numbers for a moment before shoving them into her purse, regret pooling in her gut.

She spends the whole night thinking about him and the future he wants to build - the future they are going to build together. She has butterflies in her stomach; she hasn’t had a crush since she was eighteen and she thinks she might be the most ridiculous woman on the planet.

Rebecca ambushes her the next morning, grinning like the cheshire cat as she slinks to Riza’s side.

“So, how’d it go?” she singsongs.

“I got a lot of valuable information,” Riza says, putting down her coat and purse.

“Any other… valuables? The family jewels perhaps?” Rebecca waggles her brows.

“No,” Riza deadpans.

“Ugh, why not?”

“Because we are professionals, he’s… and I… we are associates and that’s that.”

“You’re so boring, even when you’re doing something under the table you keep your nose clean. Admirable of you, don’t get me wrong, but very boring.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment,” Riza chuckles.

“Sure… but did you think about it?” Rebecca asks with a smile.

“I’m going to plead,” Riza smirks.

“So you do think he’s cute.”

“I’m admirable, not blind,” Riza chuckles.

One of Riza’s interns knocks on the door, red faced and panting. “Miss Hawkeye, emergency all staff meeting in the north conference room.”

“All staff?” Rebecca asks.

“Yes ma’am. Not sure what it’s about, but two board members from the bar association are here.”

Riza tosses Rebecca a legal pad and pen before they power walk down to the conference room. The room is packed with every lawyer in the ninth district’s office. Riza and Rebecca manage to squeeze over to the window and hunker down for whatever this is about to be.

One of the Bar association directors calls the meeting to order; the presentation is on workplace conduct. It’s a long awkward spiel about how dignified this office is and how one's conduct outside of the office reflects the integrity of the office. 

Riza can’t roll her damn eyes hard enough, or at least she would if she was trying to lose her job. Instead she sits there stoically, nodding her head and taking notes. Rebecca nudges her and Riza reads her notepad:

Two weeks unpaid for B. Hollis filed for divorce. Coffee?

Riza bites back the choked sound she wants to make. She simply nods her head and continues to half pay attention to the lecture.

Rebecca brings her coffee after all is said and done. She got the gossip from the peanut gallery, AKA court typists and secretaries, at Wednesday’s ladies night.

Boise is getting put on two weeks of unpaid leave for sleeping with a defendant’s wife. The defendant’s wife said she only slept with him because Boise promised he’d lessen her husband’s sentence if she did. Now she’s been served with divorce papers and will likely be left with nothing.

In the quietest part of Riza’s stupid selfish heart, she thinks of Roy and knows she made the right decision.

Chapter Text

Riza finds herself staring at the phone late one Tuesday night. It’s been two weeks since her and Roy Mustang became associates and she has been toying with the idea of calling him ever since. The man gave her three numbers to call and she hasn’t gathered the courage to do it. She’s beating herself up over it but at the same time she can’t pretend she isn’t stressed up to her eyeballs.

Since the whole ‘workplace composure’ training has begun several more… um… incidents of inappropriate behavior have come to light. Which means Riza’s got about double her usual work load while other lawyers are getting an unpaid sabbatical… No, but she’s fine about it.

Back to the point, she wants to talk to him again… because she has a case she thinks he’d be interested in, not because… she wants to hear his voice or anything… God she feels pathetic.

“Okay… just… pick one, he’ll pick up… probably,” Riza grimaces as she mutters to herself. “You’re just going to talk about work, just work. The Zukoff case is something he’ll want to come take a look at and it’s professional goddamn it. This is a work call.”

She stares at the phone for another solid minute before dialing. She raises the phone to her ear, trying to will her pores to stop sweating.

The phone rings and rings and rings some more. Nobody answers. She breathes a sigh of relief.

“Well, I tried,” she tells herself, returning to the kitchen to pour herself a shot of vodka. “Stupid… stupid messy… it’s just a damn phone call.”

She works up the courage to try the second number on the list after the warm buzz of alcohol clouds her mind.

This time someone does, in fact, pick up.

“Lieutenant Colonel Roy Mustang’s office, Master Sergeant Fuery speaking.”

She chokes on her words. Of course it’s his work line, why wouldn't it be? They’re professionals! It leaves her wondering what the other number is… Was that his home phone? And why is he at the office so late? Is he even there? If so, why is his secretary there without him? Oh god is he a bad boss who makes his subordinates do his work for him?

“Hello?”

“Uh… wrong number.” She slams the phone back on its hook and buries her face in her hands. “ Fuck! ”

Riza flops back on her sofa and avoids the temptation to throttle herself.

“He’s a man, Riza, get over yourself,” she admonishes. Still, she doesn’t call the third number; instead she takes the longest shower of her life and passes out in her bed with her hair still wet. Her mother would kill her if she knew, you’ll catch your death! They’re working you too hard, you know what I’ll call that office and give them a piece of my mind!

She wakes up from a nightmare where her mother quit for her and married her off to a defendant from years ago. Stress dreams are an incredible side benefit of the job.

Groggy and still anxious from the night before, Riza picks her happy ass out of bed for another full day in court. And then another… and another… and another after that.

Before she knows it the season has turned over, summer has settled into a particularly chilly fall and the workload is catching up to her. She feels the weight of her work on her shoulders and she may be getting sick but she doesn’t have time for that because she’s actually got a few hours off… in which she will be taking the witness stand.

That’s right, somehow someway the judge-jumper case has made its way to trial. Riza is actually a witness for once instead of prosecuting so she has a chance to breathe. Well, she thought she’d get to breathe. Instead she is ambushed by none other than Judge Grause on her way to the witness holding area.

“Miss Hawkeye, good to see you, do you have a minute?”

Riza tries to clear the slight scratchiness in the back of her throat, “Of course.”

The judge takes her a few doors past Riza’s intended destination, but no this is fine. She sits behind her desk and Riza stands awkwardly before her, uncertain what to do with her hands given she has no casefiles to latch onto.

“I wanted to tell you this ahead of our scheduling hearing tomorrow so you aren’t caught off guard. I am retiring.” Judge Grause has always been direct but the sentence just about gives Riza whiplash.

“Oh…”

“I’ve been told it’s improper to say anything until it’s final, but I think that I’m beyond the point of caring.”

Riza snorts before she can stop herself. “You’ve never been one to beat around the bush.”

“Well now that I don’t have to give a rat's ass about judicial bias I figured, why the hell not.”

Riza can’t hold in her laughter as Judge Grause smirks at her. It’s sometimes hard to see judges as people (at least it’s hard to see the good ones as people) with their ungodly levels of patience and ruling with precision on intricate legal questions. Even when she interned with a different judge, Riza admired Judge Grause, who has always been a pillar of judicial authority and she never overstepped her bounds. Even at socials and parties, Riza had always respected the judge for her impartiality and the grace with which she carried herself.

Now she’s cursing, and she feels distinctly human; it’s both jarring and an honor to see the depth of this woman so plainly.

“Besides, I know that the rumors have got legs amongst the public defenders who won’t miss me much at all. I’d prefer to spread the truth in equal measure.”

Riza suddenly has a realization looking at the judge with a critical eye. “So what made you… decide to retire? Not this incident I hope.”

“It didn’t help,” the judge scoffs under her breath before giving Riza a look that says what cannot be spoken: They’re forcing me out and they’re trying to stir up trouble. “I’m just ready to enjoy a peaceful life.”

There’s a moment where Riza bitterly wonders if there’s even an option for a peaceful life in this world. She wonders what that would look like; a world without turbulence, without a military state watching their every move, a world where people are kinder to each other. It’s a pipe dream, a fantasy she could never hope to witness… but it’s a nice thought, as unattainable as it might be.

“Anyway, expect a shake up coming. I don’t have a name yet but I think we both know the type of person who’ll be sworn in to replace me.”

Riza feels like she’s being pranked. “So you’re apologizing for leaving me in a lurch?”

“It won’t be so jarring as that, but yes, in a way.” She smiles distantly for a moment, then she stands up and pats Riza’s arm. “Good luck, you’re going to need it. Working in this court house is not for the faint of heart.”

“Good thing I’m not faint of heart,” Riza offers a small smile.

They share one final, understanding glance before Judge Grause kicks her out ahead of herself. 

“For integrity reasons,” she says with a wink.

Riza wishes she had a corner or a side hallway to collapse in after that particular revelation. Instead she straightens her suit and walks into the witness holding room, wherein she spots none other than Roy Mustang chatting with Maes Hughes. Her stomach drops, her cheeks flush… she is pretending the illness she’s been fighting off is the culprit.

“Miss Hawkeye, there you are,” Attorney Blake smiles at her brightly, interrupting her thought process.

“Sorry I’m late. Judge Wilkes was insistent about going line by line through a motion.” She straightens her blazer and then shakes Mr. Blake’s hand.

“Ugh, I feel you there. I have a scheduling hearing with him next week and I just know he’s going to rake me over the coals for my last memo,” he groans limply.

“Well, my motion for continuance just got denied so here’s hoping he’ll go easier on you than me.” Riza offers the comment with a surreptitious glance around the room. Beyond Roy and Hughes there are a few other witnesses from the courtroom that day, and while she’s not surprised by that, she’s just a smidge disheartened that no one else will intercede Maes Hughes from approaching her.

“Long time no see, Miss Hawkeye,” Hughes chuckles, butting in between her and Mr. Blake.

“Aw, yesterday wasn’t enough for you?” she laughs as she folds her arms over her chest. “If you want to see me more, just ask, you could be the lead investigator on more of my cases. God knows I wouldn’t mind the help.”

“No offense, but you get saddled with some of the worst cases I’ve ever had the displeasure of seeing and I was in Ishval, lest you forget.” He’s still got a teasing grin but she doesn’t like the honesty in his tone.

“Ah yes, the vote of confidence I was looking for,” Riza chuckles.

“Yet another thing to look forward to since you’re coming to my promotion ceremony a few weeks from now, right?” he asks, looping an arm around her shoulders. 

“Oh… I-”

“Fantastic! It’s at three pm on a Thursday so you shouldn’t have any trouble with traffic. I’ll give your secretary the details.”

“Is there a reason you’re so antsy?” She worms out of his arms and Roy chuckles.

“If you find out, please let me know.” Mustang’s eyes land on her. They linger just a moment too long and it makes her face warm again.

“It’s good to see you, Colonel. I hope Major Hughes’ promotion hasn’t inspired any envy.” She doesn’t know why she says it, the words simply fall out of her face before she can stop them.

He gives an affronted pout. “I just got a promotion of my own, I’ll have you know, so I’m still ahead of him in rank.”

“Barely. I’ll beat you to General, just you wait,” Hughes smirks.

“I thought you didn’t want too much responsibility now that-”

Hughes gasps, “Miss Hawkeye, I never told you! My Gracia is pregnant!” 

Riza tries not to wince as he squeals. “Oh, congratulations, sir.”

He starts producing what must be over a hundred photos before Mustang quickly shuts him down.

“You do know that women usually like to talk about these things with each other, right?”

“I’m one of the girls, Roy, my wife tells me so all the time.”

“I don’t think she means that as a compliment!”

“Not to be a buzzkill, but holding rooms for witnesses should be kept at a respectful volume; there are court proceedings going on literally next door.” Riza interrupts the tirade before a full on shouting match can ensue. They’re going to give her a headache. They both look sheepishly between each other like children scolded by their teacher and Riza can’t help but laugh.

“I swear, the military is just another extension of kindergarten.” Riza rubs her temple.

“When you’re right, you’re right,” Mustang concedes with a sheepish smile.

“Oh shit, I’ll be right back.” Hughes taps Roy’s shoulder as he walks away and Riza finds her gaze shifting to the floor. 

A pause that Riza doesn’t know how to handle ensues, so she clears her throat.

“So, how uh… how have you been, sir? Promoted from the sounds of it.” She tries not to cringe at how lame it sounds coming out of her mouth.

He smiles easily, “The promotion was well earned if I do say so myself. And how have you been? Keeping busy I reckon.”

“Very busy,” she sighs good naturedly.

“You…” he starts to speak and then he glances around the room before he lowers his voice. “You never called me.”

Guilt washes over her like storm clouds on an otherwise clear day, her stomach twisting as she thinks of him waiting for her. Then, a small bubble of glee warms her inside, because he’s been thinking about her.

She looks up at him with a sheepish smile, “You’ll… I did try.”

He cocks his head at her, “Really? I never got a message from you.”

“Well I… I reached your secretary but uh… I… I’d been drinking and I told him I had the wrong number.” She cups her cheek in one hand and watches his features melt into amusement.

“Oh I see,”

“I was too embarrassed to try again,” she covers her eyes and chuckles.

The sound of his laugh makes her relax just a touch. “I’m sure even you need a humbling experience every now and again.”

“You don’t think I’m humble? Have you met any other lawyer?” Riza pouts at him.

“It’s the spirit of the thing, you’re so well polished and dignified, it’s nice to see the mighty fall every once and a while.” He continues to tease though she can tell he is much more relieved than he wants to admit.

“I think the case at hand shows that I am, in fact, only human,” she reminds him.

“Super human, but yes,” he grins at her. “Because we’re politely forgetting the fact that our introduction was me throwing you to the floor and you flashing me.”

She taps his shoulder and he laughs, perhaps a bit too loudly but she likes how clear and distinct it is. She likes the sound of his laugh and she likes that she has put him at ease. Most of all, she’s pleased she didn’t completely fuck up by not calling him…

“I think you left your Major unsupervised.” Riza gestures to where Maes is holding out photos of his wife to an unenthused attorney.

“For the love of-… no, it’s fine, he’ll tire himself out.”

“If I didn’t know any better I’d say you were the responsible one.”

Roy slaps a hand over his chest, “You wound me, I’ll never recover.”

“Allegedly,” she teases.

“Ouch, you’re hurting my feelings over here. Take me seriously!” He laughs.

Riza keeps eye contact when she turns to walk over to where Major Hughes is telling a tall tale. Mustang grins as he follows after her and when they rejoin the conversation she realizes this is a case they’re working on together. She implores Hughes to retell a very particular part of the story to Mustang, just for laughs.

“So I reminded him - and Miss Hawkeye, please feel free to jump in and tell him how truthful I’m being - that his phone calls are being monitored since he’s… you know, in custody. I can’t stress to you enough how in jail this guy is. So of course we have a record of him telling his girlfriend to leave the country right? And then he says, ‘well it’s my call, of course I have a right to privacy’… and I just… he knows, right? He knows that being in jail means that everything he does is under scrutiny… right?” Hughes is clearly still trying to parse if he’s supposed to be amused or if he should be stunned by the situation.

“Is it true, Miss Hawkeye? Do you have a right to privacy in prison?” Colonel Mustang looks at her with a smirk.

“They’d have more rights than us if that’s the case,” she says without thinking and wishes she could take it back. Fortunately the men laugh at her statement.

“Shit you’re right. Why do we work for the government again?”

“Uh… delusions of grandeur?”

Riza laughs to herself. “Something like that.”

“Miss Hawkeye, of all the things someone could accuse you of, being delusional is not one of them.” Hughes winks at her and Riza suppresses a groan.

Before she can say anything, however, in walks a displeased Mr. Frank with a thick stack of files that Riza presumes have her name all over them… joy.

“Miss Hawkeye, a word?”

Riza approaches her boss, biting her lip to keep from grimacing.

“You aren’t going to like this,” he says, handing her the file. The top page indicates that a previously convicted defendant has won an appellate issue and the higher courts have called for a retrial. She wants to scream; she doesn’t but she wants to. So very badly.

“Can I retire yet?” she deadpans and Mr. Frank snorts.

“No, but if you put in notice today I can guarantee a vacation in three to four business years.”

“On a holiday weekend?” she retorts with a laugh.

“If you play your cards right.” He seems relieved that she’s joking and not losing her shit. 

One of the prosecuting attorneys for the current case re-enters the room, and a nervous smile tugs at his lips.

“So… uh… good news everyone, the defendant is pleading to the court. Which means you’re all free to go, thank you so much for your time.”

Mr. Frank nods sagely. “Good news, you just got six hours of your life back. Come up to my office at three, I have a case to pass off to you.”

“A new one this time?”

“If you say please,” he smirks. “See you in a couple hours.”

Riza deflates as her boss power-walks out of the holding room.

“Wow, somehow I think your day just got worse, and you didn’t even have to relive the part where you got flipped over a table.” Hughes wraps an arm around her shoulder.

“If I asked you to hit me with your car would you do it?” She looks at him blankly.

Hughes cackles, “You do me I do you? Trade off so I can get medical leave once the baby’s born.”

“I think this means I can’t leave you two unsupervised,” Mustang laughs.

“Welcome to Central City Courthouse, shit hits the fan every twenty minutes and bodily harm is the only way to get a damn day off.” Or sexual misconduct… that too, it seems, Riza thinks as she hoists the case file higher into her arms.

“Then let us treat you to lunch, since we have only one hour.” Maes squeezes her shoulder and Riza flicks his hand off unceremoniously.

“I’ll need to look at my schedule and drop these off at my office,” Riza sighs softly.

“Giving Rebecca a break?” Hughes asks as Mustang steals the files out of her hands.

“She’s off today,” Riza pouts at Mustang but he merely grins in response.

Riza takes them back to her office, unlocking the door and rummaging through Rebecca’s desk for her calendar. After a few minutes (and trying desperately to put everything back in its right place, sorry Becca) she rejoins a lone Lieutenant Colonel in the hall.

Maes Hughes has made himself scarce, which does not surprise her one bit.

“I bet something stupid came up?” she asks Mustang with a chuckle.

“Yeah something something, the stove got left on.” He rolls his eyes and offers her his arm.

“What a coincidence,” she leans into the jest. “He always seems to have something crop up whenever he wants to leave you in my care. It’s almost like he doesn’t trust you.”

“Or maybe he’s too trusting.”

“Doubtful,”

“Ah, I see you don’t know him particularly well.”

She pouts. “What does that mean?”

Roy tilts his head from side to side, “It means that once you’re someone’s comrade in arms you know them better than you know yourself.”

“Starting early with the platitudes I see,” she teases.

“I’m feeling generous with my wisdom today, seeing as someone made the wise decision to not go through with a doomed defense. I still can’t believe this guy really thought he had a shot. We were all there!”

Riza shrugs. “By that logic no one would commit any kind of crime; someone’s always watching.”

They both laugh then but Riza feels it more acutely than ever. Riza takes Roy to the cafe she frequently sends Rebecca to. He’s charming and talkative but she gathers that he’s unsettled by the amount of people around them. He doesn’t divulge any details about their arrangement but she has no problem telling him about the case she’d wanted to share a few weeks ago.

He hangs on every word she says and his eyes light up when she mentions that there’s been several unreported meetings with known military dissidents. Suddenly, he’s a dog with a bone, ready and willing to head out that very second to investigate. She wants to joke with him about it but it’s… it’s endearing to see him so excited. 

She finds herself enjoying their time together, conversation is easy and she finds that the more she talks to Roy the more they feel connected. He feels like an old friend, like someone she’s always had in her life, and she doesn’t know what to do with that. It makes her chest swell with fondness… er… the kind of fondness one has for their coworkers of course… whatever that is…

“Miss Hawkeye are you hearing me?” Mr. Frank’s secretary snaps her out of her stupor.

“Yes of course, is he ready for me?” she asks.

“Yes ma’am, go on in,” the old woman looks at her curiously before she returns to her notes.

Riza enters the office and pauses when she sees two boxes full of files. Her heart nearly stops at the sight and she briefly wonders if she really can get Hughes to hit her with his car.

Mr. Frank gets right into it. “Now that Attorney Dyer and Attorney Senza have moved on I’m divvying up their caseloads.”

“And I won the lottery?” Riza can’t help but snark at him.

Mr. Frank smirks at her. “Believe it or not, you got one case and one case only, congratulations. You’ve lucked out.”

“What is it this time?”

“Honestly? It’s just another inmate who will be sitting in jail until the day he dies. Most of his cases are about him causing problems with other inmates.” Mr. Frank hands her the latest filing.

“Dishonorable discharge for extreme and pervasive violence against fellow officers, war crimes including-” Riza stops herself short of finishing that sentence. Being accused of war crimes in Ishval must be a staggering feat. The whole damn war was a crime against humanity.

“His most recent charge is attempted murder of an officer. I’m sure you won’t have any problems.” Mr. Frank waves his hand dismissively.

“So how much attention do I give this case over others?”

“It’s a back burner for sure, Kimblee’s not going anywhere. Which is why you did, in fact, win the lottery.”

Riza nods, hoisting the file boxes into her hands. “Is that all, sir?”

“Yes, ma’am. Oh, and good work on the Brodrick case. I knew I could count on you.”

She turns and exits the office, her mind wandering to this Kimblee guy and what his deal is. What kind of a monster could kill his own squad? His own superiors? She will never understand the military and she doesn’t want to.

Her phone is ringing when she gets back; all of her calls are directly going to her line today and she is none too pleased to hear from her mother.

Riza holds in a sigh that almost makes her cough, but she holds that in too, lest she give her mother a damn heart attack.

“What is it, Mom?”

“I haven’t heard from you in ages, angel.”

“We had lunch on Sunday,” Riza reminds her blandly.

“I don’t appreciate the attitude.”

“I’m busy, Mom, I’m sorry. I just got out of a meeting with my boss and I have to drive across town for a last minute meeting. Did you want something specific or were you calling to chat?”

“I heard that there was a case about a man assaulting a young attorney and the judge on his case, Clarissa. Care to tell me why you kept that a secret?”

Riza cringes. “I didn’t want you to worry.”

“Well I am worried, dear, I’m very worried. The article said you were injured!”

“I sprained my ankle and I’m fine. It was months ago.”

“Have you been to see your doctor?”

“No and I don’t need to, I’m alright.”

“Are you sure, sweetie? I know you’ve always had a high pain tolerance and you’re so stubborn-”

“I promise you, I am fine.”

Her mother sighs, “I just hate knowing that your job is as dangerous as I feared.”

“That’s such a rare experience, mom, it’s once in a lifetime. He’s behind bars and he’s staying there. You don’t need to worry so much.”

Her mother is quiet for a moment and it hurts Riza’s heart to know her mother is so worried. As annoying as she can be, Riza does love her mother. There’s no one in the world more devoted to their child and Riza knows she’s lucky to have her at all. She’s seen hundreds of cases filled with some of the worst types of people. Love isn’t a guarantee and she’s grateful to have it… even if she feels smothered most days.

“Come over tonight.”

“Okay.”

“You need to be more honest with me too. I’m still your mother, nothing is too big or too small to come to me with.”

“Alright.”

“And you need to pick up my calls more.”

“Well now you’re asking too much,” Riza throws in a jest.

“Riza-”

“I know, Mom, I’m sorry. I’ll do better.”

“Don’t isolate yourself.”

“I won’t, but I do have to get going, okay? I’ll see you tonight.”

“Alright, I’ll see you tonight. Take care of yourself.”

“I will.”

Riza quickly replaces the phone and straightens up her things. She has to go to the jailhouse, not that she was about to tell her mother that, because that would have been a whole other issue altogether.

That night when she does go to visit her mother, trepidation fills her gut. She knows exactly how the evening will go, it’ll be the same as it always is when her mother hears about the horrific things Riza faces at work.

Riza knocks twice before pulling out the key to her mother’s apartment. The place is empty so Riza tidies up the living room, plugs in the radio, wipes down the counter, and puts a kettle on the stove.

She hears the latch turn and braces herself for the onslaught.

Her mother jumps at the sight of someone in her kitchen, then she relaxes when she realizes who it is.

“You’re early, love bug,” she says as Riza collects the grocery bags from her.

“I know, you’re the one who’s late, missy,” Riza attempts to tease.

“Sit down, you’re-”

“Mom, it’s fine, let’s just have a fun night. Okay?”

Her mother looks at her sadly. “Riza-”

“I don’t want to fight and we’re both too stubborn for our own good.”

“I’m worried about you.”

“I know.”

“I want you to be safe.”

“I know.”

“I want you to quit your job.”

“I’m not doing that.”

Her mother sighs, “You could do anything you want. You have three degrees and excellent recommendation letters. You could be a professor or-”

“Mom, I’m not quitting. I love my job and I want to keep doing it. That’s the end of it.”

“You got hurt , Riza.”

“Tons of people get hurt on the job,” Riza says quickly. “How many nurses do you have who got assaulted by patients? Or teachers who have to break up fights? People get hurt, the world’s not safe but I’m making it better. Why won’t you see that?”

Riza sees her mother reaching for her cheek and for a moment she thinks about shying away from her touch. She doesn’t but she thinks about it.

“I just want you to be safe.”

“I am, Mom.”

She looks like she doesn’t believe her daughter, but thankfully the subject is dropped… for now.

“Can you get the oven preheating, please?”

Dinner is… tense. Her mother is not one to drop her concerns (and yet Riza is the stubborn one, always), but she also knows when she’s hit a roadblock with her daughter. Riza doesn’t stay the night, she wanders home with a bubble of anxiety in her chest that’s ready to burst at any moment.

She briefly wishes she could call Roy, she wishes she could talk to him about… well, she isn’t sure what. She’s sure they could find something to talk about, maybe she could even sit and listen to him talk about nothing. Her eyes glaze over the note with three numbers scribbled on it and she’s holding it in her hand before she can stop herself. Why does she wish he were here right now?

She shakes her head and pulls herself together. She’s got dozens of case files to look over, she doesn’t have time to pine over her work associate.

Instead of calling him, she reads through Solf Kimblee’s record and the former Major is nothing short of a scumbag. The fact that his attorneys are even still filing pleas to the court is enough for Riza to call his mental health into question. That and the depravity of his crimes makes her skin crawl.

She often finds that the defendants she faces are people she would call misguided or frustrating. It’s uncommon but not rare to see someone she would truly call evil, but she doesn’t have another word for this man.

A nightmare colors her dreams, one where she is in Ishval and forced to stand by as Kimblee ravages the desert. She dreams of red blood and sticky air that tastes like corrosive metal. She dreams that she is screaming but no sound comes out.

She shoots up in bed drenched in sweat. This isn’t the first time a case has haunted her this way. Almost two years ago, when she was an intern for Judge Price, she sat through the trial of a man who brutalized his wife so violently she was unrecognizable. The photos from the crime scene still make her flinch with the memory.

But this is different. Something about Kimblee twists her stomach and makes her feel wretched. Maybe it’s because anything to do with Ishval makes her feel a tremendous amount of guilt; that she hadn’t done enough, that she never could do enough because protests don’t seem to work the way they should, because the violence permeates every inch of this godforsaken country. Maybe it’s because Roy Mustang was one of the arresting officers and it just feels too close to home.

It’s a combination of those things; Riza is certain of this as she readies for the day. She hasn’t stopped sweating and she can’t help but let out a weak cough every so often.

She can’t get sick, she doesn’t have time for that. Rebecca is still out and she has literal crates of filings waiting for her. She also has pre-trial hearings, depositions to conduct, and also that re-trial to work on… Armed with little more than espresso and a prayer, Riza spends the entirety of her morning pouring over document after document of filings. She’s going cross eyed looking at all of them.

Turns out bodies don’t exactly care about the schedule of the legal system and about a week later she finds herself fully succumbing to the office crud. Luckily, not being able to sleep the night before means she gets into the office early. Unfortunately, fever chills are Riza’s number one symptom right now… but she’s fine about it.

“Sorry I’m late, Ri-… uhoh,” Rebecca grimaces. One hand still perched on the door knob and the other clutching her coat.

“What is it?” Riza tries to ignore the thick congestion of her voice but Rebecca doesn’t.

“You look and sound awful, what are you doing in today?” she asks, chucking her jacket back towards her desk.

“I have a full day of meetings and a hearing with Price about my motions in limine for the Odak case.” Riza raises a hand to her forehead and lets out a deep breath to steady herself.

“I’m sorry I got you sick,” Rebecca cringes.

“I’m not sick.”

“No one’s buying that,” Rebecca huffs at her.

Riza stands up, loses a fight with a coughing fit, and then grabs her briefcase. “I’ll be back in a couple of hours. If I’m not back by noon let the defense for the Herbert case know court ran late.”

Rebecca bites her tongue and nods as Riza scurries off to her hearing. Her head is pounding and her nose hurts from all the futile blowing she’s been doing. She ignores the grimaces from her co-council and defense council as she takes her seat.

She argues her motions with the same trademark efficiency she always employs, and even when she grips the podium to keep from fainting, she stands her ground. By the end of the hearing she is - only vaguely - wondering how the hell she’s going to get through the rest of her day. 

“Alright,” Judge Price sighs as the defense council takes his seat. “So I will be granting the motion for limiting the defense expert’s testimony. As to Mr. Garrison’s motion for continuance I’ll go ahead and grant an additional week for you to confer with your witnesses but I will be denying the motion for recusal of Mr. Picconi. So defense council, make sure you submit your addendum by next Friday.”

“Thank you, your honor.”

“And Miss Hawkeye.” 

Riza snaps her gaze up to the judge.

“Go home, we don’t need the rest of the courthouse catching whatever you have.”

Riza’s cheeks burn with embarrassment as she responds, “Yes, your honor.”

“Court is adjourned,” Judge Price quickly exits the courtroom and Riza isn’t far behind. After being called out so blatantly she’s eager to make herself scarce. She has half a mind to lock herself in her office and catch up on paperwork… but halfway up the stairs she nearly blacks out and decides that, perhaps, she really should take the rest of the day…

“Welcome back,” Rebecca greets her wearily.

Riza gives her a lazy smile, “I won’t bite.”

“I should hope not,” she chuckles.

“I am going to make your life harder though,” Riza sighs as she brushes her bangs out of her eyes. “Can you clear my schedule for the day? Judge told me to go home, pretty sure he’ll hold me in contempt if I don’t.”

Rebecca gives her a sympathetic smile, “Well, luckily for you, I may have already done that, just to give you the option. I rescheduled everything for next week with one exception.”

Riza cups a handkerchief over her mouth to cough up a lung before gesturing for her to continue.

“Major Hughes asked to bump his meeting to noon, so I booked a conference room for you. He should be down there now.” Rebecca offers Riza a stack of files.

“I’ll be back soon,” Riza huffs. She can feel people staring at her, she can feel the heat of embarrassment clawing at her throat as she stifles a few coughs into her fist.

She knocks twice on the conference room door before opening it.

“Major, I promise I’ll keep this brief,” Riza says, anticipating the fall of Hughes’ features when he sees the state she’s in.

“Shit Hawkeye, you look awful.”

She snorts, “Thanks, I didn’t notice.”

“I uh… that’s not what I meant.”

“I’ll bet, you usually make it more obvious when you put your foot in your mouth,” Riza attempts to tease. “So, I take it you finished your report?”

“Screw the report you should be-”

“It’s my understanding you couldn’t move our meeting, sir. I’m well enough to work through this now, I promise.

“If Rebecca had said she was rescheduling because you were sick I’d have worked something out.” He gives her a sheepish smile as he rubs the back of his neck.

Riza tilts her head, “I don’t see why we can’t get this done now. You do have the report, right?”

Before he can answer the door opens and Riza turns to face one particularly surprised looking Lieutenant Colonel Mustang. Ignoring the flip-flop of her heart, Riza squeezes the handkerchief in her hand.

“Colonel Mustang, what… what are you doing here?” she asks.

“I was in the neighborhood,” he shrugs lamely.

She huffs out a laugh that morphs into a limp cough, “Excuse me… but um… I’m here to discuss a case with-”

Suddenly she can’t speak, she’s not even sure she can think because he is brushing her bangs from her forehead. The back of his hand rests gently on her forehead and for a moment she can’t do or say anything. She is stuck staring at him and his handsome features; him and the concerned furrow of his brow. 

“You have a fever,” he tells her gently. His hand runs down the side of her face, his knuckles resting for a moment at her jaw.

“I-… I do?” she asks, not sure what else to say.

He nods. “Let me take you home.”

“Okay,” she whispers and then she shakes herself out of her stupor as she realizes what he said. “Wait, I mean- I uh- I can take myself home.”

“You already agreed.” He gives her a small teasing smile, though pity still sparkles in his eyes.

“I-”

“I’ll go reschedule our meeting with Rebecca and I’ll grab anything you’ve got left in your office.” Hughes claps her shoulder and scurries out of the conference room before Riza can stop him.

“I… ugh,” Riza groans.

“Keys?” Mustang holds out his hand.

“I can drive myself,” Riza insists.

“Yeah but you said I could do it this time,” he shrugs.

She laughs a bit, “Sir-”

“Let me help, please?”

Riza drops her gaze and, in another moment of weakness, hands her keys off to the Colonel.

“I’ll keep a respectful distance, I promise.” He does, however, offer her his arm to hold onto. She shakes her head and folds her arms as she leads him to the parking lot.

He starts the car and she can’t help but ask:

“Did Hughes drag you here or did you tag along?”

He laughs, “I’m only in town for a few days, he said I shouldn’t ‘waste the opportunity’.”

“The opportunity? For what?” She gives him a small smile as she leans her head on her fist.

“Well, he wasn’t the only one with a report to give, mine’s just more covert,” he tells her. “Call me when you’re better, then we can talk.”

She rolls her eyes and a lull in the conversation nearly has Riza dozing off; she only stays awake to give directions.

“You really shouldn’t go to work when you’re unwell.”

“I know that, but it’s not like I have much of a choice,” she groans. “We’ve had seven fucking attornies put on leave without pay and then probation because they couldn’t keep it in their goddamn pants. Which means my workload has nearly tripled and the courts were already backlogged so now I feel like I’m being rushed in all of my cases. And sure I’m usually rushed on about half of my cases but I feel like the walls are closing around me; and it feels like the city is more dangerous than ever, and I can’t fix any of it.”

Roy looks at her with big, sad eyes and she gives a rueful laugh.

“You didn’t hear any of this, by the way.”

“Noted.”

She cups her forehead. “Why is every corner of the government corrupt?”

“I don’t know,” Roy says limply.

“I can’t believe how many of these… asshole attorneys get to keep their jobs when… it’s all bullshit.”

“It is bullshit and that’s why we’re going to change this country, remember?” 

They lock eyes for a brief moment, Riza swears she can hear her own heart beating against her ribs.

“Unless you get sick and die on me,” he adds with a smirk.

Riza laughs, “I’m not going to die.”

“Promise?” he teases.

“Promise.”

She sees his fingers twitch on the steering wheel and while she can’t place why he would do that, she doesn’t call it out either. Instead she directs him on where to park and then, against her better judgement, allows him to lead her up to her apartment.

At this point she comes back to herself enough to be embarrassed and looks at him sheepishly.

“Thank you for… for everything, but I can take it from here.”

“Uh, right,” he clears his throat and places her files on the island. “You…”

“I?” she asks with a smirk.

“You should call me when you’re feeling better.” His cheeks are bright red as he speaks. “Because we have a lot to go over, of course.”

“Of course,” she agrees, her voice barely cresting a whisper. “Then I suppose I’ll call you.”

He smiles more broadly at her, “Good, I’m looking forward to it.”

He lingers and she decides to take the initiative, disappearing into her bedroom and collapsing on her bed. She vaguely hears the door to her apartment close before she slips out of consciousness. 

When she finally returns to the land of the living she feels a bit better, though it’s much darker outside than she feels like it should be given it’s hardly six pm. She pulls herself out of bed and into the shower, for some reason she’s thinking about how Roy keeps cropping up when she needs him most.

And certainly some of that is Hughes’ doing, he’s not even trying to be subtle about that. But Roy is… he’s different somehow.

Before she can go down that dangerous line of thinking for too long, she hears clattering in her kitchen. She dashes out of the bathroom only to see her mother putting away a round of dishes. Riza’s heart rate slows and annoyance creeps in; no wonder the damn water pressure was low halfway through her shower.

“ Ma , what the hell are you doing here?” Riza tries to snip at her mother, but her voice is raspier than before and she’s fairly certain it’ll be totally gone by tomorrow.

Her mother looks at her sadly. “I made you soup, sweetheart.”

“ Mom ,” Riza fixes her with a glare. Her mother approaches and places a hand on Riza’s forehead.

“I have a key to your apartment you know,” she reminds her daughter.

“That’s for emergencies, you can’t just come and go as you please.”

“You’re sick, honey, that’s an emergency.”

“It’s a cold.”

“You have a fever, now sit down and let me take care of you before I decide to take you to the hospital to make sure it isn’t the flu or something worse.”

Riza continues to glare at her mother but relents more quickly than usual. Her mother fusses - she covers her in blankets, gives her soup and tea, and eventually coerces her into taking medicine. Riza allows her to do it, mostly because she’s too tired to fight back. She is her mother, after all, she’s entitled to her worries. Not that she needs help in that department, obviously.

“You’re taking tomorrow off too, love bug?” she asks as she puts away the remaining soup.

“Probably,” Riza shrugs.

“I’ll call Rebecca for you, you don’t need to be straining your voice.”

“Mom, I can call out sick on my own,” Riza insists.

“I can-”

“You can come back tomorrow to check on me, but I will manage on my own. Alright?”

Her mother approaches her and gently pats her head. “Please be gentle with yourself, I know you’ve been buried in cases but… don’t be… don’t be stubborn. Ask for help when you need it.”

Riza nods once, “Okay.”

“I love you.”

“Love you too,” Riza stands from the sofa and hugs her mother. “I’m going to bed, I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Riza doesn’t go to work the next day nor the day after, but considering it’s the start of the weekend she isn’t too mad about it. She can catch up on documents from the comfort of her home while she gets her voice back, so really it’s a win win.

She finds herself staring at the phone, wondering if now is the time to bite the bullet. Tentatively she plucks the phone off the receiver and dials the first number. It rings and rings until the call disconnects. She breathes a sigh of relief.

She dials the second number her heartbeat knocks against her ribs when the call connects.

“Lieutenant Colonel Roy Mustang’s office, Master Sergeant Fuery speaking.”

Riza clutches the receiver a bit tighter, “Hello, could you let the colonel know that Elizabeth is calling.”

“One moment, ma’am.”

The other end is quiet for a few moments, and Riza briefly considers hanging up because this is stupid . It’s stupid that she’s calling him, it’s stupid that she has a code name, it’s stupid that she’s nervous to talk to him because he’s just a guy for crying out loud.

“Why hello there Elizabeth,” a truly ridiculous lilt interrupts her spiraling. She almost laughs out loud, her nerves suddenly dissipating like mist in the morning sun.

“Roy, it’s good to hear your voice again.” She adopts a sweet tone that might come off as patronizing in any other context. “Though I must admit, I didn’t peg you for the type to work on a Sunday.”

“I wouldn’t be if I could avoid it, they’re working me to the bone over here!” he bemoans theatrically.

“Well, I don’t want to keep you if you’re busy.”

“Just so happens I’m itching for an excuse to clock out. Tell me I’ll still be able to reach you if I call you back in twenty minutes.”

“You can certainly try,” Riza feels her cheeks pinching with a smile.

“Ugh, you’re going to break my heart, Elizabeth!”

“Well perhaps I can promise a few spare minutes if you hurry.”

“I’m on it!”

The phone goes silent and Riza forces herself to reorganize her pantry in order to keep from spiraling.

The sharp ring of the phone has her nearly sprinting back to it.

“Hello?”

“You sound much better today.” His voice is gentler, sweeter, and Riza feels herself melt inside.

“I am, thank you.”

“You were… I was worried.”

“I’m sorry, I was so out of it I hardly remember getting into my car.” She’s lying, of course, but she feels the need to say it anyway. “Hope I didn’t say anything untoward.”

He laughs, “You? Untoward? Never.”

“Then I hope you have an update about the Zukoff case?”

“Boy do I.”

Chapter Text

Central Command is, in a word, messy. At the very least, Riza never seems to have a good time when she’s there, the fact that she is typically there for depositions with less than thrilled officers notwithstanding. There’s always a part of the building under maintenance, the soldiers mill about like they have nowhere better to be, and they leer at her. 

She thinks that they should get their fill of pretty women from their secretaries, lord knows plenty of them cycle through. She wonders if she’s just a novelty, if they know she’s an attorney, or maybe (more likely) they’re just men who have no control. Either way she feels like every angle of her body is being observed by the soldiers she passes and it makes her stomach crawl.

When she arrives at her destination - a glorified conference room for the promotion ceremony for this quarter’s promotees - the energy of the room is thankfully much more lax. There are civilians hanging off of their soldiers with proud smiles and the soldiers in question look like they would prefer to disappear. Riza can relate to that much at least.

She finds herself slipping into a seat close to the back of the makeshift auditorium, shuffling with a case brief she brought to keep herself occupied.

“I think you died and went to heaven.” The chiding male voice hovering above her has Riza snapping her file shut.

She cranes her gaze up to meet the blue eyes of a typical-looking solider. Blonde, tall, muscular, the kind of man propagandists slap on posters to sell their perfect image. He smells heavily of cigarettes and his lopsided smile would be charming if his advances were welcome.

They are not, however, and she takes a moment longer than normal to process that what he’s said is batshit crazy.

“I’m sorry… what?”

“You- ah shit! Hold on, got it wrong. I died and went to heaven. Me, I did, because you know, you’re an angel and so pretty or whatever.” He seems to think he’s really saved this.

“Or whatever,” Riza bites back a snicker so that he doesn’t mistake her humor as interest.

“Should I… I’m going to start over. Hello, ma’am, you’re the prettiest woman I’ve ever seen.”

“Color me surprised.”

“Is there even a chance I could still ask for a date?” He grimaces as he seems to realize how hard he’s screwed this up.

“You can ask but I’m not sure you’ll like the answer.” She can’t hold off from smiling at him any longer.

“So what you’re saying is, the odds are low but not zero.” 

“First Lieutenant Jean Havoc what the ever-living fuck do you think you’re doing?”

Several other officers straighten up at the aggressive reprimand from one Roy Mustang. Riza nearly cackles as Mustang approaches, and Hughes tries to stifle a giggle behind him unsuccessfully.

“Sir-”

“You need to leave Miss Hawkeye out of your delusional and inappropriate flirting, you hear me?”

Now Riza laughs, a hard laugh that almost forces a snort out of her nose. After the past few weeks she’s had she thinks she deserves a laugh.

“Sir, I… wait, Hawkeye?” This Jean Havoc character turns to her. “You’re the one who choked out that defendant who attacked a judge, right?”

Riza sticks her tongue in her cheek as she sends a heatless glare towards Mustang. “I see you’ve been telling people about me. And here I thought we had an agreement.”

Mustang holds up his hands defensively. “I only shared the flattering details, I promise.”

“So it’s true? You body slammed a guy?” Havoc seems hung up on the details and Riza rolls her eyes.

“I didn’t body slam him.”

“You sure as shit did, man for a lawyer you really like to downplay the details,” Hughes teases, wrapping an arm around Roy’s shoulders.

“Contrary to popular belief, lawyers don’t embellish a story. Well, the good ones don’t at least,” she concedes with a chuckle. Rising from her seat she folds her arms and smirks at the trio of soldiers. If her suit was a touch more vibrant she’d make them a matched set.

“I don’t think I believe you,” Mustang teases.

“Didn’t your mother teach you that it’s rude to disagree with a lady?” Riza asks, barely holding in a laugh.

“How dare you? I’ll have you know I’m an orphan!” Mustang slaps a hand over his heart. The theatrics make her laugh again and he grins at eliciting such a response. She finds herself momentarily entranced by him and his eyes that never seem to leave hers.

Riza glances back over to Jean when she can tear herself away from Mustang’s features. Jean’s gaze darts back and forth between her and Mustang for a moment. Perhaps he thinks he can gather information by simply staring long enough. Then his eyes land on Hughes and a lightbulb seems to go off.

“Oh, I see,” he mutters.

“Hm?” Riza gives him a quizzical look.

“Miss Hawkeye! What a pleasant surprise.” Gracia Hughes sneaks up on the group, startling all three men. Riza smiles warmly at her.

“Good to see you, Gracia,” Riza waves politely.

“Glad I won’t be forced to play nice with the other wives; they’ve been driving me up the wall.” Gracia bumps Riza’s shoulder and practically growls the statement.

“That bad huh?” Riza laughs.

“I’m just about ready to enlist myself to get access to a gun.”

“Wow.”

“Yup,” Gracia sighs and then examines Riza’s figure. “You look lovely. It's been too long since we’ve seen each other.”

“Oh you know how the courthouse likes to lock up its prosecutors at night,” Riza smirks.

“You must be glad to have a kennel with a window,” she teases back.

“Ouch.”

“It’s better than Maes’, I’ll tell you that much.” Gracia laughs but Riza is suddenly wondering if pregnancy really does make someone as sweet and kind as Gracia Hughes into a snappy sarcastic woman… Or maybe Riza’s been initiated into a deeper level of the club? Now that she’s joined Mustang in his quest for Führer-ship…

“Miss Hawkeye? You in there?” Riza snaps back to attention as Hughes waves his hand in front of her face.

“Not sure, ask me in three to six business days,” she repeats automatically and smirks when she sees the devastation cross his features.

“Triggering me on a day like today, you cruel woman.” He pretends to sob before looking up at her with big sad eyes. “You wound me, I’ll never recover!”

“You’ll recover, I’m sure.”

“I will if you promise to come to dinner with us after this!” Hughes nudges her.

“I’m afraid if I agree to that I’ll be getting back to the courthouse after hours, and nobody wants that,” Riza chuckles thinly.

“Oh? Late night hearing?” Mustang asks.

“Something like that, one of my defendants was causing problems with his cellmates and now I have a new case on my hands. Tale as old as time.” Riza is really really not looking forward to that case…

“Aw you can skip work one time for your old pal Maes can’t you?” Hughes gives her a genuine pleading look and Riza can’t pinpoint why he’s being so insistent.

Regardless, she gives him a humored smile. “I’ll take it under advisement.”

“That means ball’s in your court, sweetie, get us a home run.” Hughes looks to his wife with a smirk.

“I think you got your sports mixed up, but I’ll do my best,” Gracia laughs.

Before she can say anything the hall is called to order - er, uh - there’s an announcement for everyone to take their seats. Riza sits beside Gracia as the soldiers maneuver to their posts.

“You know,” Gracia says quietly as the General gathers his things. “Roy’s going to be in town for a few weeks, and now that he’s a full Colonel, he’ll be in the city more often.”

Riza glances at Gracia. “That’s interesting… why are you telling me this?”

“I thought between friends you’d… be interested to know.” Gracia looks at Riza quizzically for a moment. “You have to know that Maes tells me everything.”

“I have to be honest, Gracia, I have no idea what you’re implying,” Riza chuckles, and while it’s not a lie, per se, she does have an idea of what this could be about.

“So all your banter with the colonel is innocent?” Gracia’s voice is quieter than before and Riza taps her arm playfully.

“ Everything I do is innocent, I’m not an underhanded kind of girl.”

“Underhanded is a word for it… but you had to notice that he’s handsome.” Gracia continues to lean in.

“A man’s handsomeness does not determine the worth of his work. And, need I remind you, I am a professional who has professional working relationships within the military.” Riza and Gracia make eye contact then, and Riza can tell that Gracia is calculating what to say next.

“Well, far be it from me to imply anything untoward, lord knows we have enough of that going on in a much less entertaining context.”

Riza covers her mouth to keep from cackling, “You are wicked.”

Gracia bumps her shoulder before the hall is called to order. They don’t speak for the duration of the ceremony; it’s dull and full of bullshit. Honor, valor, courage, and the unspoken fascism of it all, it’s easy enough to follow and even easier to ignore.

What isn’t easy to ignore is how good Mustang looks with his damn hair slicked back. She’s supposed to be maintaining her professionalism not ogling the man everyone and their mother wants her to involve herself with. 

It’s not her fault that he just so happens to tick every box for her to find him physically attractive. It’s not her fault that they’re politically and morally aligned. It’s especially not her fault that she finds him charming, and sweet, and sincere, and earnest in a way that’s hard to come by these days. She can’t be held accountable for noticing how he holds himself or the way his cheeks pinch when his performative smile doesn’t reach his eyes.

She’s clapping because everyone else is clapping, because it will keep her from remembering how much fun she has with him. Because it’s easier to follow the crowd than it is to follow her train of thought.

Gracia tugs her along to collect their soldiers; her husband peppers her cheeks with kisses and Riza grips the strap of her bag. She is coerced into following the group to a celebratory dinner and is unsurprised when she is sat beside - you guessed it - one Roy Mustang.

He too seems unsurprised and he makes a joke about assigned seats at his own celebration. Riza laughs and agrees, though she finds herself flip-flopping between talking exclusively to Mustang and deliberately ignoring him. She doesn’t like how everyone else is looking at them, she doesn’t like the scrutiny.

She feels like every interaction, every glance and smile is being filed away by their entourage so it can be picked apart later. She’s not stupid, she knows that the romantic insinuations between them are highly speculated. It makes her… uncomfortable, knowing that everyone around her thinks that they know best.

And it doesn’t matter if she does like Mustang; it doesn’t matter that she finds him attractive. What matters is that people are looking at her, waiting for her to fall, waiting for her to decide that her morals are no match for attraction or some other tripe bullshit. She is not typically one to be contrarian, but she’s also petty. So she ignores Mustang more than she otherwise might’ve and she is sure not to allow her gaze to linger.

It seems fate has taken some amount of pity on her… which is a ridiculous thing to say considering a building explodes next door. Instead of overthinking her interactions with Mustang, she jumps straight into evacuating civilians. Their soldiers jump straight into action and Riza quietly wishes she had trusted her instincts and gone home early.

Luckily, she gets Gracia and herself home. One of her reporter friends calls her for an ‘inside scoop’, to which she accuses him of stalking her. They laugh, she drinks, and when her phone rings again she assumes it will be him again.

“Barrett, I’m serious you’re not getting anything else out of me,” she teases, her voice light and warm with fondness. “You’re cute when you’re a dog with a bone, but this is too much.”

“Oh, sorry ma’am, I didn’t mean to interrupt your evening.”

She sits up straight, sobering up the slightest bit. “Colonel-”

“I was just calling to make sure you got home safely, seems you did.”

“I-”

“Goodnight, Miss Hawkeye.” 

“Wait-” and the phone goes silent.

Her good humor has been completely washed away as she listens to the static of a dropped call. Her heart thumps painfully in her chest as she slowly lowers the phone back. She can’t call him back, she has no idea where he called from. Should she go looking for him? No, what an insane thing to do, he was just… he was going to have a quick call with her anyway, surely.

So then why does she feel so guilty? Why does she feel the need to explain herself?

The phone rings again and she quickly picks it up.

“Hello?”

“Hi honey, it’s your mom.”

Riza holds in a groan. “Mom, it’s kind of late.”

“I know sweet pea, I was just calling because I have a colleague looking for another set of eyes on some contracts. I told him I’d set up the meeting, are you free tomorrow night?”

“Um,” Riza sighs, glancing at her calendar. “Yeah, I can do that, tell him seven o’clock and I’ll meet him at the hospital.”

“Perfect, love you princess.”

“Love you too.”

Riza goes to bed with trepidation and the fluttering of nerves in her chest. She’s overthinking, she must be, because Mustang was in a fight today and obviously isn’t mad at her, right? And what would he be mad at her about? Was he calling to tell her about what happened?

She barely sleeps that night and even when she wakes she’s still feeling the residual nerves of a conversation gone poorly. This is stupid, not even losing a case makes her feel this way (anymore) so why is she feeling so… so…

Fuck, she doesn’t have time to figure out what she’s feeling. All she has time for is a hearing that ran long, an office lunch that ended with her getting covered in coffee by one of the senior staff members, and now she’s running late for her dinner meeting. She had to change into a dress bordering on formal wear but she really had no choice, at least this guy is also dressed impeccably.

His name is Chandler; he’s young, handsome, and the newly appointed head of the emergency services department at Central General Hospital. He served two years in Ishval, loves dogs, and has three younger sisters. None of this has to do with the contract Riza was told she’d be helping him review, but he’s good company so she doesn’t mind.

Well, she doesn’t mind until he insists on paying the check in full and then invites her to a bar once the tab’s been paid.

“I’m sorry, Chandler, I am having a great time and it’s been a lovely evening… but I’m not sure a bar will be the best place for us to do this.”

He goes on, what Riza can only describe as a face journey. First it’s shock and bewilderment, confusion follows, a moment of pondering after that, and finally, excitement.

“Well, we could go anywhere you like.” He reaches up and covers her hand with his.

“I…” Riza suddenly finds herself staring into his deep green eyes. Confusion washes over her as she tries to figure out what that means.

“Don’t be shy, you weren’t a moment ago.” His thumb runs along the back of her hand.

Realization burns through her like a forest fire, her face turning an impossible shade of red.

“Oh god no! I’m- I mean- I was told you wanted help going over a contract!” Riza scrambles to explain.

“Huh? A contract?” He tilts his head to one side.

Riza chuckles nervously, frantic to clear up the confusion. “Yes, my mother told me that you needed legal advice on a contract for the hospital!”

He looks away and laughs after a moment. “I’m sorry for the confusion, you must think I’m a real sleaze.”

“No, no, no, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to accidentally proposition you for… well anything.” Riza grimaces.

“Hey, no harm done, I still find you quite charming.”

“I… appreciate you being a good sport. My mother likes to overstep.”

“Hospital admin overstepping? Say it isn’t so,” he laughs and Riza joins him to lighten the tightness of her chest. “I still had a great time. I’d even like to do it again sometime if you’re up for it. On equal footing this time around.”

“Oh, I…”

He hands her a card with his number on it and Riza - despite her better judgement - takes it.

“I’ll leave it up to you, but you know where to find me.” He finishes the last of his wine and pulls out her chair so they can leave.

Riza hurries home, slamming her bag on the table and furiously entering her mother’s number.

“Hello-”

“What the hell is wrong with you?” Riza snaps.

“I take it the date didn’t go well?”

She is so angry she finds herself sputtering, “What the hell is wrong with you? You lied! You lied to both of us and then I humiliated myself trying to save face!”

“Dr. Webking is a good man, Riza dear, I thought you two made for a handsome couple. I don’t know why you’re so up in arms about it!”

“Because you went behind my back and set up another date for me! I’ve told you to stop doing that!”

“If I don’t help you along you’re never going to find yourself a man-”

“You are crazy! You know that!?”

“Do not talk to me like that, I am your mother!”

“You’ve been single since dad died two decades ago and you expect me to just-”

“Don’t bring your father into this, Clarissa!”

“Stay out of my love life!”

“I would if you had one!”

“Fuck you!”

“Clarissa Marie Hawkeye-”

Riza hangs up and indignantly unplugs the phone when it rings a second later. She angrily scrubs her face and throws her too-nice dress into the laundry. Her heartbeat is loud in her ears as she returns to the kitchen. It’s so very typical of her mother to break her boundaries but to humiliate her like this is next level.

And it doesn’t help that she’s still steamed about being basically abandoned by Roy the other night… no, not Roy, he was being the Colonel because he had to be. Because he was helping people and apprehending a dangerous individual-

She hears the lock turning and she slams down the dish she was washing.

“For the love of-” She throws the door open and sees her mother standing at the door with an aluminum tray.

“Riza-”

“Go away! I don’t want to talk to you.” Riza tries to shut the door but her mother barges in anyway.

“You need to stop being so dramatic,” her mother says sternly.

“I am a grown ass woman I can do whatever I want.”

“I just want what’s best for you.”

“No, you don’t, you want me to live the life you have decided for me. You don’t want me to be happy, you want me to be a better version of you,” Riza snaps harshly as her mother drops the lasagna or whatever the fuck it is on the counter.

“Oh sure, blame me for wanting you to have a better life than we did! Blame me for trying to make your life easier and happier and-”

“You don’t care about what I want, mom, that’s what I’m trying to tell you! You want a do over-”

“I never said that and I never would.”

“You have spent my whole life trying to dictate what I do and I’m tired of it!”

“I have never stopped you from doing anything you want-”

“What about that time you told me I wasn’t allowed to study alchemy?”

“I did not say that, you’re putting words in my mouth,” her mother says dismissively.

But Riza remembers exactly what her mother said that day. She was all of ten years old, running home to show her mother the little tin sculpture she made with alchemy in class. She remembers the look of disgust on her mother’s face:

Why would you want to do alchemy, love bug? It’s just so… it’s dull don’t you think? Science and transmutation… You don’t really like it, angel, I can see it on your face. Alchemy is a ridiculous study anyway and you’re so good at writing. Let’s forget about this and go to your dance lessons okay?

“Fine, sure, I’m the one putting words in your mouth.”

“You are driving yourself towards a miserable, lonely life, Riza. I’m not going to sit by and watch you make a huge mistake.”

“A mistake? The career that I built for myself is not a mistake!”

“You say that now, but in a few years when you are still single what will you do then?”

“Life’s not about men, mom.”

“What will you do when I’m gone? Huh? You’ll be all alone without me and I cannot stand the thought of that.” Her mother’s voice cracks and in any other circumstance Riza would try to console her, but this time she’s far too furious.

“Unlike you, I’m not afraid of being alone.”

“I know you are, you're just too damn stubborn to admit it.”

“Get out.”

“Riza-”

“Get out of my apartment! We’re done with this!” Riza doesn’t want to back down. There are too many hurt feelings on both sides and she knows that; but this is also her house and she will be damned if she doesn’t win this time.

Her mother stares at her for a long quiet minute before she adjusts her purse on her shoulder.

“I love you,” she says, storming out of the apartment. She always has to have the last word in an argument and she always makes it seem like she’s ‘killing with kindness’.

Riza thinks that’s bullshit but she’s also going to stew if she keeps thinking about it. She goes to bed and pulls her ass to the courthouse - yes on a Saturday - to catch up on work.

She’s reminded of a case she wanted to talk to Mustang about so she calls him, twice on each line and doesn’t reach him.

She tries again on Monday, thinking it was a fluke, but still hears nothing. Before she knows it, it’s been over a month since they spoke and she misses him.

What the hell is wrong with her? Why does she miss this man she hardly knows? It’s not like he owes her anything and he’s a busy man… 

She’s sitting in her office trying to reach him for the fourteenth time about a case and his secretary insists that Mustang isn’t there. She’s frustrated and skeptical so when she has a meeting with Hughes she asks him to pass along the case.

“Is he okay? I haven’t heard from him,” she asks at the end of their meeting.

“Oh yeah, super busy with a training exercise in the North.”

Riza raises a skeptical brow. “Without his secretary?”

Hughes stills for a moment. “Oh, Fuery? Yeah, kid’s a tech wiz but he stays out of the field.”

“And he’s been in the North for three weeks?” Riza poses the question humorlessly.

He laughs, “You know how it is.”

“I don’t, explain it to me.” Hughes is silent under her discerning gaze. “I see.”

“It’s just… complicated, Hawkeye.”

“What’s so complicated? Is he okay?”

“He’s fine, really.”

But before she can respond, Rebecca is knocking at the door.

“Uh, sorry to interrupt your meeting with the Lieutenant Colonel but there’s an emergency hearing in the Delvitt case.” Rebecca winces, knowing full well what a damn nightmare that case has been.

“Totally alright Miss Catalina, I was just leaving.” Hughes walks briskly out of the conference room and Riza deflates.

“What was that about?” Rebecca asks, looking baffled between the retreating Hughes and a defeated looking Riza.

“I have no idea… can you schedule a meeting with him for next week?”

“On it, boss.”

Except they don’t meet that next week because Riza is suddenly in damage control mode. Turns out the key witness in her case has a fake identity and was once a drug mule for a crime syndicate… because she will simply never know peace.

She’s sitting at her desk, rubbing her temples and reminding herself that she chose this job and this career and even this office to work for (that she is currently living the dream , she swears) when the door opens unannounced. 

“Rebecca, if you have bad news I need you to schedule telling me about it for tomorrow.” She looks up and locks eyes with a shocked and bemused Mustang. “Of course.”

“Why Miss Hawkeye, if I didn’t know better, I’d say you weren’t happy to see me,” he teases.

“If you have bad news, I’m not,” she retorts limply.

“Your secretary isn’t in, otherwise I’d have had her warn you about me first.”

“She’s just left for an afternoon training. I thought she might’ve come back to tell me about another disaster but clearly that’s not the case. Go ahead and sit, I have half an hour before my next hearing.” Riza gestures to the seat across from her.

“I take it we’re not having the best of days,” he says, slipping into the chair.

“I have had worse weeks… not by much, but I’ve definitely had them,” she manages a smile.

“Sorry to add to the pile on, but I had a request of my own… if you don’t mind.”

“Considering I’m the one who’s usually doing the asking, I’d say it’s fair for me to return the gesture. What do you need?”

“I heard through the grapevine that you have connections with a defense attorney named Byron.”

She takes a moment to process that name before returning her gaze to Mustang. “I have a few cases where he’s defense council, yes.”

“How hard would it be for you to figure out his schedule?”

“Depends on which schedule you’re looking for.”

He grins and Riza feels herself preen with pride. “You learn so fast.”

“So, one covert schedule coming up.”

“That easy, huh?”

“Maybe I like you, what’s the harm in helping a friend?”

He looks surprised and then he deflates a bit, “I uh… ahem…”

“Yes?” she asks.

“Well I… I was just… Nevermind.”

“Come on now, don’t leave me with that, what’s on your mind?”

“I was just… afraid I overstepped at the promotion ceremony. You uh… well I thought I was crazy because you were ignoring me but then you thought I was your boyfriend when I called and… what’s that face for?”

Riza is biting her lip to keep from smiling, a hand raises to cover her mouth before she bursts out laughing.

“Colonel, you’re-… sorry,” she laughs again and he pouts a little too earnestly.

“What? Am I so wrong for wanting to apologize?” he snaps.

“I don’t have a boyfriend,” she says with another chuckle. “Why on earth would you think I have a boyfriend?”

He’s suddenly blushing and stuttering as he tries to answer her question. “Well… the next day Hughes saw you having dinner with a guy who… he said you looked-”

“That wasn’t… I wasn’t seeing him, it was a misunderstanding between us and I had no intention of… I’m still very much single, though maybe I shouldn’t brag about that.” She averts her gaze and the weight on her shoulders feels lighter. Maybe they both misunderstood some things…

Mustang’s face is beet red and his eyes drop to the ground, eliciting another laugh from Riza. “Oh.”

“I wasn’t mad at you either, just so we’re clear.”

“I get it, I’m an idiot,” he looks at her sheepishly.

She takes a beat before deciding to ask her next question. “Were you avoiding me because you were embarrassed or angry?”

He opens and closes his mouth a few times before responding. “I… I’m going to go with embarrassed.”

“Oh? Explain.”

“What is this, an interrogation?”

“No, no, no, it’s just a conversation,” she teases. “Attorney client privilege and all that.”

“You’re mocking me.”

“A little, but I think I deserve to since you abandoned me in my hour of need and you just admitted to it instead of coming up with some excuse. What was it Hughes told me? A training exercise in the North?” 

“Well to be fair I was doing a training exercise in the North… for a week.”

“Oh, I see,” she teases.

The air in the room is lighter, easier to swallow; she feels like she can breathe again for the first time in a while. He’s laughing and teasing, it’s as if they really are friends and not… whatever it is they are. 

Associates? They are and they aren’t, they still have never worked together in an official capacity. They aren’t strangers either and it’s getting harder and harder to ignore the fondness she feels for him.

“Walk with me to court?” she asks when she notices the time.

“Of course,” he walks in step with her. Their conversation is muted but no less engaging.

She passes her files off to her intern once he’s in sight. “Take these to co-council and double check to see if it’s a closed hearing.”

He nods and sprints off to the courtroom while her junior attorney scurries up to her. “Miss Hawkeye, Judge Perkins sent a memo twenty minutes ago. I’ve never seen it before, I’m assuming the previous council handled it but… I’ll speed read.”

“Good, go,” Riza instructs. He nods once and sets off back towards their office.

“Are you sure you never enlisted?” Roy asks with a grin.

Riza turns towards him, walking backwards for a moment to give a full smile, “Why Colonel, haven’t you heard? This office is a branch of the military.”

He laughs as she whirls back around. The bailiff posted outside the courtroom informs Riza that she’ll have to wait a few moments for a change over. She turns back to Mustang and discreetly rolls her eyes.

“So sorry to cut this short, sir, I know you made time in your busy schedule to come see me.”

“No trouble at all, your office never ceases to make me feel better about mine.”

She snickers and he preens under the unspoken praise of getting a laugh out of her.

“I assume that you should be getting back to your office.”

“Ugh, don’t remind me,” he shivers.

“Far be it from me to force you to do your job, Colonel, but I highly doubt this case is open to the public.”

“And why ever not?” Riza’s blood curdles as she turns towards the voice of one Solf Kimblee. He looks about the same as he does in all of his photos, from the ones he took as a cadet to the booking photos from the jail - he looks so… normal. That’s what unsettles her most; he seems generally unbothered by his situation, by what he has done. 

“I quite like having an audience. After all, nothing worth doing should be kept in the dark.” The guards by his side say nothing to keep their inmate quiet and it makes her swallow a deep breath to keep from scolding them.

“The judge isn’t ready for us. Take this inmate back to his holding cell,” Riza instructs the guard; her voice commands respect but sells the idea that she is keeping a level head.

“Sorry, ma’am, holding cells are full up right now,” one of the guards says. His gaze does not fall on her. Instead he gives the appearance of a statue, presiding with no say or authority over the situation.

“Trying to get rid of me so quickly, Miss Riza? Don’t hurt my feelings.” Kimblee cocks his head to the side and looks at her with a performative pout.

“You and I do not speak, Mr. Kimblee, unless you’re finally ready to testify your own account of what landed you in prison,” she says tersely.

“And what’s the fun in that?”

Riza hates this guy; fuck being fair and impartial, she’s not the judge - she’s the one throwing the book at him. And lord help her, that’s exactly what she’s going to do… maybe physically if he keeps this shit up.

“You’ve lost the right to have fun, Kimblee, in fact you’ve lost the right to do damn near everything.”

Kimblee looks at her like she’s a wet blanket. “This is why I hate lawyers. At least you’re pretty to look at. Do us all a favor and wear something low cut next time.”

Suddenly Roy Mustang is punching the defendant square in the nose. Riza is so shocked all she can do is let her jaw hit the floor.

“Shut your mouth, Kimblee,” Mustang seethes at the bound defendant. The guards finally snap to attention, though they too are just as shocked as Riza.

“Colonel Mustang, sir-”

“Make yourself useful and put a damn muzzle on him.” Mustang barks the order and Riza finally snaps back to herself.

“Well, well, well, is this how you greet your comrade in arms? And when my hands are bound too, what an unfair fight.” Kimblee’s grinning at Mustang like somehow he’s still the one in control. 

“You-”

“Colonel Mustang!” Riza calls out his name and he whirls around to face her. His expression is pinched with rage but he still gives her his full attention. “I think you need to go. Now.”

Kimblee chuckles, “Oh I see, the more things change the more things stay the same, huh Mustang? We’ve always been so similar and we’re both whipped by the same bitch.”

Mustang’s hand reaches for Kimblee’s throat but stops just before he can throttle him. “You’re a disgrace… to the military and mankind.”

“Agree to disagree,” Kimblee shrugs.

“You-”

“Colonel!” Riza snaps again. “If you don’t leave right now I will have a bailiff escort you out.”

He doesn’t look at her, he continues to stare down Kimblee until another bailiff arrives to help escort Kimblee inside.

“See you soon, princess,” Kimblee calls to her as he walks away.

Mustang finally glances at her, his gaze is full of shame, rage, and fear. “I-”

“Go to my office, now ,” she instructs lowly. Then she storms past him into the courtroom for her stupid hearing.

Kimblee got into a fight and killed an inmate recently - he has the right to plead not guilty but it’s a stupid decision given how many people saw him do it. Does it matter? Kimblee will be in jail for the rest of his life regardless. Riza thinks he just wants a day outside of prison and it might be shitty of her to have such a low opinion of him; but god does she hate him. As far as she’s concerned Kimblee is a waste of her time.

She holds onto her rage, she still has a use for it even after her hearing has concluded. The courthouse is nearly empty and everyone she passes by is bundled in their coats wishing her a goodnight.

Instead of taking a moment to calm herself as she stands before her office door, she riles herself up. She remembers how Mustang went radio silent for weeks on her, she remembers how every damn case she’s working on is slowly destroying her, and she remembers how angry her mother makes her.

So when she throws open the door and sees the apologetic looking Colonel, she’s comforted but not swayed from her scolding.

“You’ve got a lot of nerve,” she starts, slamming the door behind her. “You have got a lot of damn nerve assaulting my defendant in the middle of the court house! You could be prosecuted for that! Do you have any idea how stupid you have to be to pull that!? The only reason you’re not catching charges is because of your rank and I can’t even guarantee they won’t try to reprimand you in other ways!”

“Alright, I get it, I’m an idiot, but Kimblee had it coming,” he insists petulantly.

“You leave Kimblee to me-”

“You don’t know what kind of a monster he is!”

“I do know, I’ve read every report on-”

“No, you don’t get it , Kimblee is a monster. He has committed heinous crimes against humanity and you need to drop his case.”

“You don’t get to make that choice for me,” she snaps. “He’s going to rot no matter what I do, it’s not like-”

“He is dangerous!”

“We’re talking about you. You and your stupid decision to attack a defendant in front of dozens of people. You’re trying to take office, you’re trying to be a politician and you can’t do that if you’re throwing punches! You’re supposed to be better than that!”

“How am I supposed to stay calm when I know you’re facing off with the most dangerous man I’ve ever met? How am I supposed to let go and trust that you won’t be his next victim?!”

“He won’t hurt me.”

“You don’t know that! I fought alongside him in Ishval. I arrested him for fuck’s sake, I know what he’s capable of and I can’t… I can’t let you… I can’t watch you-”

“You need to trust me! I can handle myself!”

“I know you can but he’s-… he’s the worst of my nightmares and I can’t stand the thought of him doing even a fraction of the carnage he committed in Ishval! Damnit, Riza, I can’t let him do that to you!”

She doesn’t know what possesses her then; rage or frustration or whatever you want to call it. All of a sudden she is surging forward, she has half a mind to slap him and another to kiss him.

She follows the instinct to pull his face to hers, his breath catching as their lips collide. Riza panics internally as she processes what she’s done - what she is currently doing. There’s a fire inside of her, burning with need and she can’t keep ignoring it.

Regret sets in as his hands fall from where they were by his shoulders down to her chest. For a moment she thinks he’s going to push her away, but his hands lightly grope at her breasts instead and she huffs a laugh against his lips.

Then she seems to realize what she’s done and she tries to pull away. He loops his arms around her back and pulls her flush against his body when she attempts to step back. She nearly stumbles, her thighs press painfully into the desk behind her but she can’t bring herself to give a fuck.

Kissing him is exactly how she had imagined; warm and demanding, his strong arms cradling her like she is something delicate. She’d swoon if she had any freedom to move around, embarrassing as that is to admit. She slips her fingers into his mop of black hair, opening her mouth for his tongue to enter. 

Before their moment can go too far there’s a bang of a door in the main office slamming shut and the two of them jump apart. Riza can feel the flush filling her cheeks and she can see the red splotch of embarrassment coloring the back of Roy’s neck as he turns away.

“Miss Hawkeye!” Mr. Frank throws the door to her office open and Riza instantly withers.

“Sir, I-”

“You do not have the right to take matters into your own hands disciplining a member of the military when he attacked your defendant. Do you hear me!?”

“I do but-”

“I don’t want to hear it! You’re fucking lucky Kimblee’s been stripped of his rights because if he wasn’t your job could be on the line!”

“I understand-”

“I don’t think you do!” Mr. Frank snaps his gaze over to Roy. “You, out, now !”

Roy looks at her briefly before rushing out of the courthouse. 

Meanwhile, Riza gets a new asshole. Mr. Frank is pissed and it doesn’t seem to just be about the Mustang of it all. He stops scolding her and starts ranting about things she has no business knowing. Like the fact that the eleventh district was just gutted with layoffs and that means the ninth district is getting more cases. He bitches about how parliament is looking to cut funding to courts that get less convictions. 

Then he sighs at the end of all of this and says, “Do you know what this means, Miss Hawkeye?”

“No sir, I don’t.”

“It means that we’re puppets,” he says. “Puppets on a stage pretending to stand for justice but all we’ll actually be doing is putting away people who want to think for themselves. It means we’re hurtling towards a world where we read off of a script and court is a show and no one will be safe.”

Riza sits and looks at the weathered man before her. Someone who has seen this government prove time and again that cruelty bleeds through generations. This man who has been fighting for a long time because he believes that their country is better than this but has never been proven right.

She’s afraid, then; she’s afraid that this is the person she will become one day. Her stomach twists as she remembers the rage on Mustang’s face when he punched Kimblee, how harrowed she had been reading through the litany of Kimblee’s crimes. Mustang lived through them, she reminds herself; not only did he witness those horrors first hand but he too committed atrocities in the name of the government they now oppose.

Can they really hope to be better than those who came before them?

“Go home, Miss Hawkeye, you’ve been sufficiently disciplined. I’ll see you tomorrow bright and early.”

“Yes, sir,” Riza nods. She gathers her things and scurries out of the courthouse, but she is momentarily distracted by the fact that Roy- Mustang didn’t wait for her. Granted, she and Mr. Frank spoke for half an hour but… but she…

Oh god she kissed him! What is wrong with her!? Why did she do that?

She did it in the heat of the moment, she didn’t… well she meant to kiss him but… Fuck she needs to call him… FUCK she doesn’t have a number for him in the city!

She goes back home and paces around her room for a moment before collapsing in her bed and screaming into her pillow.

What would she even say to him? Hey my boss is still pissed at me but it’s fine, don’t worry about it; do you want to make out again? What is she, fifteen? No, she needs to apologize, she needs to find him and then… God, she can’t be caught dead at Central Command or else rumors will definitely fly.

She has a pretty out there idea but it’s worth a shot if she’s going to… apologize? Beg? She has to talk to him, that’s for damn sure.

Clutching a pillow to her chest she calls up a familiar number.

“Hughes residence,” Gracia’s bright voice makes Riza clutch the phone a bit tighter.

“Hey, Gracia, it’s Riza.”

“Oh, what a surprise. Maes is still at the office, unfortunately, but I can let him know you called.”

“Actually, I was… I was just… you don’t happen to know where Colonel Mustang is staying do you?” She grimaces once the question is out there; she can practically hear Gracia’s mind swirling with unhinged imaginations.

“Why are you looking for the Colonel at this hour, hm?” she asks with a teasing lilt to her tone.

“I made an ass of myself and things were tense at the courthouse today. I wanted to apologize.”

Gracia makes a sound that Riza can’t explain. “I don’t know where he’s staying but I can pass the message along.”

“No, that’s okay, it was a longshot anyway,” Riza sighs.

“While I have you on the phone, can I ask you for a favor?”

“I… sure.”

“So, you know I’m getting pretty close to my due date.”

“I’m aware.”

“The military ball is next week and I really don’t think I can go. Would you be willing to be Maes’ date in my stead? He’s saying he just won’t go and I told him that with this promotion being so new he has to go even for a little while. Anyway, I figure if he has a date he’ll be more inclined to stay.”

Riza finds she doesn’t know how to respond at first. “I… I’m not… I don’t think that’s-”

“You’re not busy are you? It’ll be a Friday night.”

“Well… I could but-”

“Please, Riza? Besides the fact that I feel like absolute crap, I cried trying on gowns the other day and I’ll be even bigger by the time of the ball.” Gracia’s voice tightens and Riza is officially in damage control mode.

“I… guess I can make it.”

“Thank you so much! I’ll let him know, I appreciate it,” Gracia doesn’t wait for Riza’s response before hanging up.

Riza sighs and replaces the phone. “Well… shit.”

She spends the next twenty minutes rummaging through her closet looking for something to wear. This time of year stores are usually bought out for formal gowns. Between the military ball and civilian holiday parties, it’s difficult to find something passable for a decent price.

After digging through her closet she finds a long column dress in a deep garnet color. The matching opera-length gloves are still attached in a bag and the tag glints at her with a size she isn’t certain she can still squeeze into. It’s better than nothing… even if her tits look like they’re about to pop out.

She looks at herself in the mirror turning to give herself a better angle and realizing half way that there’s a slit climbing up her thigh. What did she even buy this for? Probably a student formal back in college? Whatever the case, Riza decides it’s good enough and rips off the tag before hanging it on the back of her door.

The distraction is nice, it keeps her from thinking about Roy. How his lips pressed firm against hers, how he was as warm as she’d envisioned, and how he seemed to want to kiss her as much as she wanted to kiss him. 

The next day she convinces herself there’s no reason to call him, she doesn’t know where he is exactly. Even if she did she’ll see him at the military ball and she can explain everything there.

Hughes arrives exactly when he said he would. He’s got a corsage on and a small plate of brownies Gracia baked to say thank you.

“You look dynamite, Hawkeye,” he says as he leads her out to his car.

“You clean up nice too,” she teases, still trying to get her earring in.

He smirks. “So did you ever get in touch with Roy?”

“No, I didn’t, he’s hard to get a hold of,” she responds dismissively, thankful for a layer of foundation to keep her features neutral even when she feels a bit of flush beneath it.

“Is he? I’ve known him to make himself available for the right price.” Hughes wiggles his brows at her and Riza taps his shoulder.

“Behave,” Riza chuckles. “The colonel has a very important job and I do too. I don’t expect any kind of special treatment. You’ve earned it from him though, considering you’re best friends.”

Hughes laughs, “That’s true, I do have seniority in putting up with his shit… but he’s not one to leave a pretty lady waiting.”

“Good thing I’m a bitch first and a pretty lady second,” Riza notes with a laugh.

“Well, I’m sure whatever you thought you needed to apologize for is long forgotten. Don’t let it spoil the night!”

Riza fights the urge to roll her eyes. “What are you on about?”

“Just have fun Hawkeye. Jeez, I’m earning my wings trying to get you two together.”

“You know if you have to fight to get two people together they may not be a good match.”

Hughes gives her a heatless glare. “If you two would stop being so prim and proper it’d be easy. Need I remind you we’re committing many crimes against the state. Who cares if you smooch?”

“Cut it out. You’re like a nosy older brother, and I never wanted an older brother.”

He pouts at her but has the decency to move on to another topic.

The ball is held in the presidential palace. Riza has only been to this place once when she was in school. A field trip to visit the galleries, the state rooms, and the grounds; even then she felt the whole affair was littered with propaganda. She remembers several of her teachers choking up as they spoke about the honorable sacrifices made by the nation's leaders. Riza always wondered how honest they were in their emotions and how many of them played the part.

Instead of school children surrounding the palace, there are swaths of men in dress blues and women in breathtaking gowns. Riza will admit to feeling ever so slightly out of place amongst the upper brass. Even when she finds herself in rooms with well-to-dos and other officials, it’s always a little daunting.

Hughes, however, is a complete natural in this environment, schmoozing and joking about all sorts of things. He tells people that she’s his ‘wife-approved date’ for the evening and nearly everyone pounces on that. When they find out she’s an attorney they’re even more intrigued.

She and Hughes are a bit of a team; she can read him just as easily as he can read her. They know when to move on, when to keep up a bit, and when to relax. She makes a few connections that will surely benefit her in the future and they’re only a few hours in.

It’s in the midst of having a lengthy conversation with a Lieutenant General Nordin that she begins to glance around the hall. It’s elegantly decorated with extravagant floral arrangements and dozens of Amestrian banners. There are easily a thousand or so soldiers in this room alone, leaving out those who have congregated on heated balconies and the dining hall. She vaguely wonders where Mustang might be.

She wonders if Hughes is right. Does she still need to apologize? Certainly she must, she kissed him in her office without warning after having yelled at him. Then radio silence for about a week… no, she definitely needs to apologize.

But what will she say? She can’t just blurt out an apology but she also can’t let Hughes know that they kissed, she’ll never hear the end of it. Not to mention how public all of this is… oh god, should she try to get him alone? NOT LIKE THAT-

“Hawkeye?” Hughes asks, nudging her with his shoulder.

“Yes?”

“If you’re checking out we can get going, god knows I want to get back to my darling Gracia.”

“Is it a requirement that I’m glued to your side?” Riza chuckles.

“Not exactly,” Hughes smirks. “You think you’d be fine on your own?”

“Of course I would be. I’m not sure Gracia will be pleased with you coming back so soon, though.” Riza loops her arm around his elbow and pulls him towards another group of soldiers.

“You’re right, she’d want me to make sure you and Roy dance first,” he agrees brightly. His head is suddenly on a swivel in an exaggerated attempt to look for the colonel.

Riza considers herself to be a pretty good sport by not commenting on that. Instead she greets their new conquest, a group of Alchemists who Hughes seems to be much more familiar with than Riza had anticipated. One of them threatens to rip off his shirt and Riza is certain he’s serious by the visceral reactions the others have.

She briefly wonders what they’ll tackle next when something catches the corner of her eye. She looks again, pauses, and feels her breath still in her chest.

Roy Mustang is holding onto the most beautiful woman Riza’s ever seen. A woman with long dark hair in perfect ringlet curls, ruby red lips, and a body that would inspire envy in anyone. She’s wearing the perfect shade of midnight blue to match his uniform and he looks so happy with her.

She has no business feeling deep disappointment, nor does she have a reason to feel what she can only describe as heartache; but she does feel those things. She can’t ignore the deep seeded feeling of a preemptive rejection, and she can’t ignore the pricking feeling of tears threatening to spill out.

She watches as his hand roams from that girl’s waist to her hip. He kisses her cheek and she swatts him playfully. God help her, Riza is jealous and she feels so stupid for that.

Suddenly they’re making eye contact, she and Roy. Riza snaps her gaze away and turns back to her conversation. Seems they’re at a breaking point so Riza makes a limp excuse and walks away.

Hughes doesn’t seem to notice, or perhaps, she doesn’t notice anything else that happens because she needs to go. She can’t be here a second longer, not when… not when he’s here with some other woman. And she shouldn’t be jealous, but she is, and she’s so stupid for it.

She hates that her voice cracks when she asks for her jacket from the coat room. She hates that she doesn’t even acknowledge the valet asking if she needs a taxi. She pulls her coat tight around her frame and walks home in the cold and snow because she’s stupid for being angry that Mustang has another woman in his life.

He’s a known womanizer, what did she expect? They shared one frantic kiss and it meant absolutely nothing. Of course it meant nothing. They’re associates, nothing more, and she’s the one who went and macked on him. Not the other way around.

“Hey! Riza!” 

She startles at the sound of Roy Mustang driving next to her as she walks.

“Colonel?” she asks, unable to reason in her mind what the hell he’s doing. Why did he leave the ball? Why is he here? Why is he following her?

“Get in the car, you’ll get sick again in this weather.”

Riza is still walking, still shocked and unable to process what the fuck is going on. “I’m fine, my building is here. Have a good night.”

She turns away from him and scurries towards her apartment complex. Her heart is beating a mile a minute as she loads herself into the elevator. She tips her head back against the wall, and pants briefly as she tries to catch her breath.

Then, just before the doors close, Roy slips into the elevator and Riza’s heart leaps into her throat.

“You-”

“We need to talk,” he says. His gaze is stern and Riza feels panic leak into her mind. His nose and cheeks are tinged pink from the cold and he’s so handsome with his hair slicked back like that and holy fuck they’re alone together in an elevator.

“I know how that looked and I know I haven’t reached out and we’re in a very odd predicament that neither of us signed up for and if I knew Maes invited you to the ball I wouldn’t have brought anyone. But I promise he doesn’t know we kissed and that woman I was with was my informant not my date. I’m single, I’m not seeing anyone, and yes we kissed; you and I, I mean, and it was weird but not in a bad way just weird because I’m not sure either of us knows what it means and-”

He’s talking, she knows he’s talking but she’s not listening. She can see his mouth moving and the frantic hand gestures but it doesn’t matter for some reason. All she can think about is that he came after her and they’re alone.

The door to the elevator opens on her floor and he’s still talking, still nervously rambling or explaining or something. 

She lunges forward and finds herself kissing him, this time with intention. Her stiff, cold hands grip the side of his face so that he doesn’t pull away. He, in turn, has no intention of letting her go as he wraps his arms around her waist. She pushes him back, walking them out of the elevator towards her apartment.

At first they stumble a bit, then he seems to get what she’s trying to do and hoists her into his arms effectively walking them both down the hall.

He plants her back against the door and pulls away for a moment.

“Keys?” He asks breathlessly.

Riza feels the seams of her dress straining against her thigh as she fumbles with her clutch.

“Wrong door,” she says when the keys are extracted.

“Fuck,” he groans.

She pushes herself off the neighbor’s door and he stumbles back into hers. Deftly, she unlocks the door and pushes them into the apartment.

She can’t call the sex that they have a power struggle, but it isn’t exactly lovemaking either. It’s light-hearted, and fun, and downright frantic… there’s not a word for that, but it’s a moment Riza doesn’t regret no matter how much she thinks she should.

Now he’s in her ex-boyfriend’s pajama bottoms (that she could have sworn she threw out but is happy to have them now) on the edge of her bed, clearly at a loss for words.

“So…” he starts, raising a hand to the back of his neck.

“So,” Riza nods, folding her arms over her chest. Her own pajamas somehow feel too thin and too stifling all at once.

“Are we… good?”

Riza blows out a breath, “Are we? I mean… you left your girlfriend at the ball, right?”

He snorts, “You didn’t hear a damn word I said in the elevator, did you?”

Since she can’t respond with ‘ you were too handsome and I’m weak,’ she rolls her eyes. “It wasn’t exactly a coherent explanation.”

“Alright, I’ll accept that answer,” he chuckles. Then he pauses, trying to come up with the right words to say.

“I mean, I’m not here to help you keep up your womanizer persona, you know.”

Suddenly he looks a bit panicked. “Of course not! I would never put that on you.”

“Sorry, didn’t mean to accuse you of anything,” she grimaces as she realizes how that came off.

“I mean, you’re right to worry but I don’t want you to feel like I came into this looking for… that. For this, either… I’m glad, don’t get me wrong. Really, really glad and-”

“The other woman, Mustang?” Riza prompts him.

“Right,” he catches his breath. “Those women… and the one you saw tonight they’re not… they’re not my partners in a sexual context, they’re my informants. My aunt runs an escort service and the girls help me in intel gathering. I was raised with most of them, they’re like family… and they help me build the image of a playboy fuck off that’s not to be taken seriously so I can keep doing what I do.”

Riza feels an immense amount of relief and it probably shows on her face given that Roy’s tight features relax some.

“I don’t want you to think I’d use you like that. I’d never use you like that. I don’t want you to think… or feel like.. or be seen as… I don’t think I know what I’m saying anymore,” he chuckles nervously.

“I think you’re saying you don’t want to hurt me.”

“That, yes.”

“And that you don’t want me to feel obligated to do anything.”

“Exactly.”

She sits beside him on the bed, finally. “We… we can’t get caught.”

“We won’t,” Roy says.

“Your confidence is enviable,” she chuckles, looking up into his eyes. She gets lost there for a moment; he smiles so sweetly and so serenely at her. For the first time she realizes that his eyes aren’t black as coal as the rumors say. Instead, they hold the slightest flecks of blue, like the deepest part of the ocean or a midnight sky.

“I do like to be confident… and I’m also hoping that means you want to see me again… maybe even like this.” His voice is just barely above a whisper and Riza shivers inside.

She can’t help herself, she leans forward and kisses him again. It’s gentler, sweeter, more decadent, they are slow and methodical but it is no less passionate. She feels that fire in her heart blaze a little warmer when she pulls away to rest her forehead against his.

“I like this… I don’t know what I’d call it… but I like this.”

“Who needs labels when we know what this is?”

She almost responds with ‘me’ but she doesn’t. She’s a lawyer, she needs labels and definitions, codes and instructions that take the messiest of details and funnel them into a logical conclusion. If there’s a hole in a law it’s meant to be exploited. Wiggle room makes her uneasy, it’s unpredictable.

But this… this she doesn’t want to label out of fear of what words she might use. Words like: wrong, or inappropriate, or reprehensible, or worst of all mistake .

It can’t be a mistake if it feels so right… right?

“So… when are you coming back?” she asks gently.

“Well I’m not going anywhere tonight, it’s a blizzard out there,” he teases.

She laughs; it’s a dusting of snow at best and the weather forecast says the snow will be gone by noon. But so will he, in all likelihood, and Riza isn’t about to waste time.

“Well then, perhaps we huddle for warmth?” she suggests.

“Excellent idea, Miss Hawkeye, this is why you’re the one with a degree.”

“I’ll have you know, I have three.”

“My mistake,” he chuckles as he presses his lips to hers.

He holds her all night, then they wake up at six am on the dot. She sees him out with a cup of coffee and a promise to see him again soon. She misses him, even if she pretends not to.

On Monday, Roy and Hughes are in her office looking over a case file against a - formerly - missing defendant they ever so kindly located for her.

“Wish I could say I did the same for you two on Saturday!” Hughes bemoans, “You gave me a damn heart attack leaving like you did, missy.”

Riza doesn’t even have to feign embarrassment. “I’m sorry, Hughes, I just started to feel terrible out of nowhere and had to leave. I barely made it to bed that night.”

Roy stifles a laugh but Hughes doesn’t seem to notice.

“You could have said something. I was really worried, I spent half an hour looking for you when the valet told me you left in a hurry.”

“I apologize again, sir, really it came on so suddenly. I appreciate you and Gracia giving me a call the next morning.” Riza rubs her temple, not knowing what to do with her hands otherwise.

Hughes whirls around to look at Roy then. “And you! Did you even go, Roy? I didn’t see you all night!”

“I went briefly, you can ask General Hyatt. We had a lovely chat about my accomplishments,” Roy laughs.

“You’re a real piece of work, you know that?” Hughes deadpans. “Well, anyway, you both can make it up to me by coming to mine and Gracia’s wedding anniversary party and having two dances instead of the one I was going to force on you!”

Roy groans and Riza laughs; they seem to be in the clear with Hughes. She looks at Roy and catches his eye. They share an unspoken moment of triumph before continuing the good work they’ve set out to do.

Chapter Text

When Mr. Frank calls her into his office looking sheepish at best, Riza is more than a little worried. Then he pushes a file across the desk and she nearly has a damn heart attack.

“There’s fifty-seven charges here, sir.”

“Yup.”

“Nineteen counts of extortion is where this fucking laundry list starts, there’s fraud, trafficking, misappropriation of funds, aggravated assault, sexual abuse allegations; are you trying to make me quit or is this a fucking joke?” Riza can’t help but snip at her boss who is, once again, trying her damn patience.

“He’ll plead out, I promise.”

“Do you know that?” Mr. Frank averts his gaze and Riza has her answer. “He’s not even in our jurisdiction.”

“Central City attorneys are also federal employees, you know that.”

Riza is not going to make an inappropriate joke (something something, quitting, something something, death would be easier) but she is considering it.

“Look, when you win this case you will basically be guaranteed a promotion. You and I both know that you’re more ambitious than being a career trial attorney. This will get eyes on you.” Mr. Frank taps the file again.

“You already asked all the senior staff, haven’t you?” He fixes her with a glare and Riza has her answer. “What is it that you’re specifically asking me to do?”

“You have a few potential witnesses at Eastern Command, I want you to go out there and make the connection. No need for deposition, just a few meetings. We’ll re-evaluate in a few weeks time. I’m on this case with you, Hawkeye.”

“So it’s my job to bring the charges too?” Riza asks with a grimace.

“You’re in for such a pay raise.”

“Am I allowed to say I hate you, sir?”

“Once you’re off the clock, I got you an estimated per diem check and your train tickets. You leave tomorrow morning. Bring me any receipts you accumulate and feel free to blame me in all your rescheduling notices to the court. I’ll see you next week, though I expect a call if anything goes off the rails.”

“Hopefully the train does,” Riza sighs.

“I’m sure you’ll get lucky one of these days,” he smirks at her.

She turns around to leave but stops when Mr. Frank speaks again.

“Oh and Hawkeye, there’s another… thing here, unfortunately.” Riza maintains a neutral expression as Mr. Frank pulls out a separate file. “I need you to talk to a few other people… off the record.”

She flips open the file and her breath stalls in her chest; General Hakuro’s secretary stares back at her in her government ID photo.

“There’s rumors of some… unsavory… nefarious behavior that she’s contacted us about. From our brief call I gathered that the East City Office recused themselves or would if they heard about it. Worse… I think they might tip off the General if they did catch wind of her speaking out. I need you to meet with her, see what you can get.”

“Understood, sir.”

“Given the delicate nature of everything we’ve discussed - and I do mean, everything - keep this whole situation quiet. I don’t want anyone speculating on what you’re doing, I’m… recommending you not even tell anyone where you’re going out of an abundance of caution.”

“Understood, sir,” Riza nods briskly.

“How is the Kimblee case going by the way?” Mr. Frank leans against his desk and folds his arms.

“Oh, uh… judge said he’s going over my motion about his accommodations.”

“Good, that hearing is next week, right?”

“Yes, sir.”

“And I saw your request to not be put on cases with Major Grung… you know that when we give out cases I don’t usually look at who the lead investigator is, right?”

“Listen, I’m just waiting for him to get indicted with half of this shit,” she says, holding up the file in her hand. “He told me to come over to his house to discuss quote, ‘anything salacious that’s on your mind’ end quote.”

Mr. Frank grimaces. “I see… I don’t envy you, Hawkeye. At least there are four new female attorneys joining us this year. He’ll have other targets.”

Riza bites her lip. “Is there really nothing more we can do?”

“I’m sorry, really, I am. I’ll keep tabs on him and the second I get a whiff of illegal activity you’ll be given free reign to rake his ass over the coals. Just like Lieutenant Colonel Burgess here.”

Riza glares at the documents in her hands. “That all, sir?”

“Go forth and conquer. I believe in you implicitly… though I may lock my windows tonight just in case you consider killing me for this.”

Riza scoffs but says nothing as she exits the office. It has been a Monday already, that’s for damn sure… But visiting East City may not be the worst of ideas.

It’s been too long since she and Mustang have talked in person… she’s itching to see him again

“No, I hear you.” Rebecca glances up at Riza wearily as she re-enters her corner of the office. “Yes, Mrs. Hawkeye, I‘m sure.”

Riza rolls her eyes but gestures for Rebecca to put her mother through.

“Coincidentally, she just walked in from her meeting… yes I know, such good luck.”

Riza stifles a laugh as she dumps the files onto the chair opposite her own. The phone rings and Riza answers it unceremoniously.

“What is it, Mom?”

“Just called to make sure you’re still coming over tonight, love bug.”

“I’m… yes, I’ll be there.” Riza bites back a complaint about all the garbage that’s landed in her lap.

“What’s wrong, honey?”

“Nothing, just the same old work stuff.”

“Well, I’m making your favorite so don’t be late.”

“I’ll try, I have a last-minute meeting before I leave.”

Her mother sighs and Riza rolls her eyes. “Alright, well, I love you.”

“Love you too.” Riza glances up at Rebecca as her mother hangs up.

“Hey, sounds like that went well!” Rebecca says, cheerfully depositing her case briefs.

“Well, she’s not going to kill me, so there’s that,” Riza shrugs. “Please tell me these aren’t for the Kimblee case.”

“God no, these are for the Garrison files… Oh! And Mr. Matsen called, he wants to move the case to mediation instead of trial.”

“Thank god,” Riza sighs.

“I’m so good at my job.” Rebecca primps her hair as Riza gives out a few more orders before her secretary rushes out the door.

Riza shakes her head fondly as another call comes through:

“Ninth district attorney’s office, this is Riza Hawkeye.”

“Oh lucky me, I got the professional pick up!”

“How are you, Hughes?” Riza chuckles fondly.

“Oh I’m just GREAT! I was calling to let you know I’ll be out of office for the next two weeks because the BABY IS COMING!”

Riza holds the phone away from her ear. “Congrats, sir.”

“I’ll call as soon as the baby is in our arms! Oh and just so you know we’re not taking visitors until the baby is at least a month old- OH and also now’s the last time to tell us what you think the gender is.”

“Please go hold your wife’s hand and tell her good luck for me.” Riza tries not to laugh too hard at the absurdity. For a moment she sends out a wish that all expectant fathers would be this excited for the birth of their child.

“You’re right! Thanks, Riza! Talk soon!”

The line goes quiet before Riza can respond. She shakes her head fondly and hangs up the phone.

“Busy day, huh, boss?” Rebecca asks, holding up a bag of take out with a grin.

“You know it… also,” Riza grimaces at her, “Don’t hate me.”

Rebecca braces herself as she passes Riza her sandwich and salad. “Oh no.”

“I’ll be out the rest of the week on an urgent project, I need you to reschedule the week for me.”

Rebecca looks like she’s been kicked in the teeth. “Mr. Tradin’s secretary is going to give me an earful.”

“I’m so sorry,” Riza sighs.

“Hey, I don’t envy you. Where are you going?”

“Unfortunately, I can’t tell you - top secret information,” Riza runs a hand over her forehead.

“Wait, seriously?”

“Yeah, Mr. Frank told me to keep it quiet.”

Rebecca gives her a concerned look. “That… sounds… dangerous.”

“It’s fine, really,” Riza waves her off. “Just if anyone asks, tell them I have a case that took precedence and I’m out of the office handling that.”

“If you’re sure.”

Riza nods to her, opening the case she has dubbed ‘the shit show’ and working her way through lunch. Her hidden talent is keeping documents clean while she’s working and eating; an incredibly useful but ultimately very boring party trick.

It’s not like she hates the idea of going to East City; honestly she’s never been. Once she mentioned an internship out there helping Ishvalan refugees navigate the legal system and her mother nearly had a panic attack:

Riza dear, it’s so dangerous out there. I know you’re passionate about the war ending and helping those people, love, but there are plenty of Ishvalans here who could use your help too. Please love bug, not while there’s still a war out there.

That was pretty much the end of the line on that.

But East City sounds nice. Even if it is for work, she could use a few days away from court and this is probably the closest she’s getting to a vacation anytime soon. That and, if she’s honest with herself, she’s looking forward to seeing Roy again.

It’s been a few weeks since they’ve seen one another; he’s been here, there, and everywhere according to the news… and his secretary when she called him that one time. She’s also been swamped, and while that’s not getting much better with this nightmare of a case, she’ll be in charge of when her work days are over… Just a thought.

Riza buys Rebecca a coffee after hearing one half of a particularly difficult call. Then she’s sure to remind her secretary that her hours are flexible when Riza’s out of office; this gets a smile out of the harrowed woman.

“So you’re saying I have free reign?” Rebecca asks as they pack up for the day.

“Well, free as you can be in this office,” Riza snorts.

“Hmm, maybe I’ll bring my new boyfriend by, test out the locks on your office door,” she teases.

“What I don’t know can’t hurt me, I suppose,” Riza pinches the bridge of her nose.

“Love you!” Rebecca chuckles. “Get some rest while you’re suspiciously out of office!”

Riza loads herself into her car and drives over to her mother’s apartment.

She is greeted with paprikash, a platter of cookies, and the presence of her mother’s friends. Riza’s mind screams ambush but part of her doesn’t hate the attention.

“You’re still working at the courthouse, dear?” Ms. Laura asks sweetly.

“I am, yeah,” Riza nods.

“Oh that must be so exciting,” she pats Riza’s cheek with a withered hand. “I bet all those defense attorneys can’t keep their arguments straight. You’re too pretty for them to focus.”

Riza tries not to laugh; the defense attorneys she works with definitely wouldn’t bat an eye at her looks unless they thought it’d hurt her credibility.

Nurse Evelyn laughs, “Well we can’t have our girl switching sides. If she’s going to find a man he should be a nice non-lawyer. Have any of your jurors been easy on the eyes?”

“You’re horrible,” Riza buries her face into her wine.

“What? Once the case is done it seems only fair,” Nurse Evelyn and Ms. Laura laugh about that.

Riza has had a few jurors approach her for a date in the past - hell she’s seen her own coworkers date former jurors to varying levels of success. She’s never been interested and she’s tried to shoot them down kindly… to varying levels of success.

“Riza, love bug, didn’t you say you were working on a few cases going to the high court?” Riza’s mother asks, taking her seat at the table after boxing up leftovers for her guests.

“I did, those are always at the start of the month,” Riza notes with a smile.

“And? How did that go?” Her mother smiles sweetly and Riza feels that budding warmth inside of her.

She knows her mother is proud of her, but it’s rare that she gets to see her mother show off that pride. It makes Riza feel seen, it makes her feel like - in spite of everything - her mother is endlessly proud of her.

Riza brags a bit about her accomplishments, not that she has to do much for Ms. Laura and Nurse Evelyn; they practically raised her too, after all. But it’s nice to catch up.

Nurse Evelyn tries to press about Riza’s love life, and Riza’s mother runs interference more than she usually would. It’s as close to a peace offering as the Hawkeye girls get to apologizing in matters like these. Riza wonders what it would be like if she admitted to sleeping with someone outside of a relationship. She imagines her mother would lose her damn mind.

“I’ll see you Friday,” her mother says at the end of the night as Riza’s packing her things to leave.

“Friday?”

“Yes, love bug, Dr. Kiefer’s retirement party, remember?”

“Who’s Dr. Kiefer?” Riza asks with a grimace.

“He’s the head of the cardiology department I was telling you about,” she says dismissively. Riza has a suspicion a son may be involved.

“I’m not sure I can do Friday, I have a lot of work and I think Rebecca already asked me to be a plus one for a cocktail party.”

Riza watches her mother pout at her. “You only have to come for an hour.”

“For a retirement party for a doctor I don’t know? Did you make promises you can’t keep again?” Riza teases.

“I brag about you all the time, I’m within my right to introduce you to my workplace.”

“Oh they know me plenty more than they want to, I’m sure,” Riza chuckles. “I’m making no promises but I’ll see what I can do.”

“Diplomatic as always.”

“Love you, mama,” Riza says as she grabs her bag.

“I love you too, baby.” Her mother kisses both of her cheeks and quietly watches her go.

Riza speed packs when she gets home, tossing in a variety of workplace attire and all of her matching underwear. She has a brief thought about bringing lingerie which she admonishes herself for and then promptly packs them.

For an even briefer moment she thinks about calling Mustang to let him know, so that he can be ready for her. However, she had a bit of a revelation after their previous encounter that left her… well, a bit shell-shocked to be honest. So she decides that this, a surprise visit to his office, will be more than sufficient as a punishment.

She’s on the first train to East City that morning. It’s a brisk three hours and while Riza is no stranger to train travel, she finds herself enraptured by the views she passes by. There’s something beautiful in every corner of the world, she supposes, even the ones her mother has deemed off limits.

Eastern Command is just as austere and uninviting as she imagined it would be. Tall stone walls and the sentinels of two carved lions give off the appearance of splendor while keeping the public at arms length. There are dozens of soldiers milling about on the large staircase leading into the building; some look like they’ve just finished PT while others are in their full uniforms. Riza ignores all of them as she walks purposefully to the first office of the day.

Her meetings are quick for the most part; she and her witnesses have little to discuss outside of the case. It’s not until she’s sat face to face with General Hakuro’s secretary that a sense of gravity settles in the room. The seriousness of this profession weighs on Riza as she takes down her statements; this man with his secret trips to Central and the closed door conversations with the upper brass sets Riza’s teeth on edge. He knows something, he’s a part of something bigger than Riza can fathom, and it’s not her place to investigate, but it is her job to pursue justice.

Ms. Penny Koran is unflappable but Riza can see a look of shame in her eyes; a look like she is holding something back, and it isn’t the call records Hakuro told her to destroy.

Riza reminds her that anything said in this room is fully confidential; Ms. Koran agrees but she doesn’t say anything else. Riza is sure to mention she’ll be in town the rest of the week, in the Command Center no less, and to send for her if anything else comes up.

She wanders down the halls until she ‘happens’ upon Colonel Mustang’s office. She peeks her head in, hoping to see him and the shock that would surely fill his features.

She doesn’t see him, however. Instead she sees a boy lounging on the sofa beside a hulking suit of armor inside the otherwise empty office.

“Oh,” she can’t help but say in surprise. “I… are you… is this not Colonel Mustang’s office?”

The boy looks at her and stands up. “No, you’ve got the right place… are you Ms. Angela?”

Riza shakes her head. “I’m not, sorry. My name is Riza Hawkeye.”

He approaches her and sticks out his left hand to her. “I’m Edward. Edward Elric.”

“Pleasure,” she shakes his hand. “Can I ask why you’re here alone?”

The boy rolls his eyes. “Colonel Matchstick decided not to tell me he had meetings and now I’m stuck waiting to give him my report.”

“Your… report?”

“Yeah,” he sighs. “Stupid State Alchemy report.”

Riza takes longer than she’d like to admit processing that. “I’m sorry, State Alchemy Report?”

He gives her a self-satisfied smirk. “Yep, you’re looking at the Fullmetal Alchemist.”

Riza has heard rumors of an upstart alchemist joining the military with unprecedented skill recently. The title of Fullmetal had come up a rare few times in cases out of East City, but she never gave it much thought. Now, however, she takes in this boy before her - this child - and he gives her pause.

“But… you’re so…”

He glares at her, “Go on, say it.”

“Young,” she says gently.

For some reason that takes the wind out of his sails and he withers, “Well… yeah… it’s a long story.”

“I’ll bet,” Riza says breathlessly. “So you… report to the Colonel?”

“Huh? Oh, yeah, he recruited me.”

Riza really doesn’t know what to do with that information. Then the suit of armor moves and she’s left completely speechless once more.

“It’s nice to meet you, Miss Hawkeye. I’m Alphonse, Edward’s little brother.” She nearly chokes on that, dumbly holding out her hand for him to shake. “Are you one of the secretaries here?”

She shakes her head and forces a smile. “Oh no, I’m not in the military. I’m a state prosecutor.”

“What’s that?” Alphonse asks with a squeaking head tilt.

“She’s a lawyer, she locks away the bad guys that the Colonel and the team arrest,” Edward explains with a wry smile. “Does that mean Mustang’s in trouble? What’d he do?”

Before Riza can answer, in walks the exact Colonel in question.

“Ah, Fullmetal you-” Mustang runs straight into a desk when he sees Riza standing there. “Miss Hawkeye, what are you doing here?”

She shrugs, “I was in the neighborhood.”

“Hey Colonel! You could’ve told me you were going to be late. Is wasting my time some sick fascination of yours?” Edward calls out.

“Quiet you little brat!”

“Don’t call me little!”

“Brother!”

“Hey, Fullmetal, good to see you!” Jean Havoc seems unbothered by the shouting match. “Miss Hawkeye, pleasure to see you this afternoon.”

“You’re in a good mood… which is mildly terrifying,” Riza snorts.

Mustang and Edward have their faces pressed together as they throw verbal jabs back and forth. Riza is absolutely horrified.

“Oh well, when Ed’s around Mustang’s energy has something else to focus on other than running us ragged. Have you met the rest of the team?”

“I… have not,” Riza confirms, unable to look away from the bickering.

“Well this is Heymans Breda, Vato Falman, and our newest member Kain Fuery. Well, besides Fullmetal, I guess,” Riza shakes each of their hands as she’s introduced.

“I’m sorry, are none of you concerned about the literal child who says he’s working here?” Riza asks bluntly, unable to swallow her shock any longer.

“Oh, so you’re really green huh?” Breda asks. “Yeah the kid’s been working with us for… oh I think like a year now?”

“Less than that, nine months and two weeks,” Falman says precisely.

“I’m sorry?” Riza asks dumbly.

“He’s just passed his certification for the State Alchemy program. Before that he was just a recruit,” Fuery says unhelpfully.

“Respectfully, are you all insane?” Riza asks. “He can’t be older than fifteen!”

“He’s thirteen, actually,” Falman says.

“You’re not helping your case,” Riza narrows her gaze at them. “I am a mandated reporter, you know. We have laws in this country that stipulate children are not permitted to join the workforce.”

“Calm down, ma’am, he’s permitted by the head of state himself,” Breda snorts.

“What?” Riza asks harshly but emphatically.

“Yeah, Führer Bradley practically handpicked the kid,” Havoc sighs. “It’d feel gross if he wasn’t an insane talent.”

“It still feels gross,” Falman notes.

Riza turns back to where Mustang and Edward are just short of transmuting whatever’s closest to them to bash in the other person’s head.

“Sir,” Riza calls out, and all three of the boys snap to attention.

“Uh- Yes! Miss Hawkeye, what- uh… what can I do for you?”

“I was hoping for a word, if you have the time.” Riza flicks her gaze towards Edward, who cocks his head at her.

“Is that your girlfriend or something?” Ed asks.

Roy’s face turns beet soup red as he whirls around on him. “Miss Hawkeye is a professional and you will respect her!”

“Alright! Alright! Jeez, don’t get your panties in a knot,” Ed holds out his hands with a grimace.

“I apologize on his behalf, Miss Hawkeye,” Mustang dips his head.

“Hey wait! What a load of crap, I can apologize on my own!”

“Shut up, runt!”

“Colonel Mustang,” Riza snips and just about everyone’s spine straightens. “I think berating your subordinates in front of civilians is in poor taste. Wouldn’t you agree?”

He withers and Edward triumphantly smirks at him. These two seem like quite the handful.

Mustang clears his throat, “You can come into my office, Miss Hawkeye, I’ll wrap up with Fullmetal in a moment.”

She agrees with a stiff nod, slinking into the door Mustang gestured to. His office is much more spacious than hers, which is unsurprising given his rank. Her office is a glorified closet with tightly packed filing cabinets and a window that directly faces the building next to the courthouse. His office has two sofas facing each other, a coffee table, and large windows overlooking the courtyard. Not to mention the large desk and rich leather chair.

He has files peeking out on his desk, and she has the tiniest little voice telling her that getting wrapped up in Mustang’s affairs is a bad idea… a very bad idea.

The door opens and Riza turns to look at a sheepish Mustang quietly slipping in.

“Miss Hawkeye,” he says, closing the door behind him. “I uh… I wish you had told me you were coming.”

“Oh? So you could keep your dirty little secret hidden a bit longer?”

He blinks at her. “Fullmetal isn’t a secret.”

“You have a thirteen year old boy working for you,” Riza says harshly.

“It’s all fully legal, I promise you,” he says quickly. “Those boys are… well, to be fair to me, only Edward is enlisted and his enrollment in the military has been completely above board… and when we went to speak with him, his paperwork did say he was 31.”

“Ok sure, clerical errors happen but when you saw him you had to know he’s a child.”

“Of course I did.”

“And you still recruited him?”

“Their situation is… unique,” Mustang sighs. “Look I… It’s not my story to tell but those boys have been through plenty. I felt like… I didn’t make Edward enlist, he did so of his own freewill-”

“He’s thirteen, did you make any good choices when you were thirteen?” Riza can’t help but ask him harshly.

“No comment,” Mustang grimaces. “I would rather have Edward under my supervision than anyone else. They are… they’re researchers and I keep them out of the field when I can. Hughes and I agreed when I took them on I’d have to be careful and I’m doing what I can. I just need you to trust me with the Elrics, okay?”

Riza bites her lip and looks away from him, though the litigator inside of her wants to keep fighting. She’s an advocate for justice, her job is to fight tooth and nail for those who cannot do so themselves. Still, she doesn’t have all the facts and she can’t rightly turn her back on the trust she has built up with Mustang; even if this whole situation leaves her feeling uneasy.

“You’re full of surprises,” she says gently. She gathers what little strength she has to smile at him.

He relaxes under her gaze and sways a bit. “Well, I know you like to think on your feet.”

“Oh? Do I?”

“Your whole career is basically that.”

“I suppose you’re right.”

“I take it you’re here for work, Miss Hawkeye?”

“Mostly, yes, I’m here for the week conducting depositions,” she sighs.

He looks pleased with that. “A whole week huh?”

“Yes, sir,” she nods. When he started inching closer to her she isn’t sure, but she smiles again as she notices just how close he is. “You know why I chose to surprise you?”

“Hm, because you like me?” he teases.

“It was payback,” she says playfully, pushing on his chest.

“Payback? What could I have possibly done this time?” He gives an exaggerated tilt of the head.

“Let’s just say there was something you forgot to wrap the last time we were alone.”

He looks genuinely confused for a moment, narrowing his gaze as it shifts to the floor in thought. The seconds tick by, and then the proverbial lightbulb goes off and he gasps deeply.

“No!” He looks up at her with pure terror in his eyes.

Riza chuckles, “You’re a very lucky man, Mustang, let’s leave it at that.”

“I can’t leave it at that! I’m so sorry! Miss Hawkeye I-…” he covers his eyes as he laughs, “I feel like a dog. I can’t believe-… I’m so sorry.”

“Like I said, we were uh… very lucky nothing came of it, but let’s… not repeat that particular mistake.” She feels a flush filling her cheeks as he laughs again.

“Noted. I was going to invite you to dinner but now I’m a bit concerned that dinner won’t be enough.”

“You’re right, it won’t,” she gives him a wry smile.

“Then I suppose I’ll have to… find another way to make it up to you,” he’s still blushing but he’s smiling sweetly. At least he can stand to be teased; Riza likes that in a man.

“I get to choose my own hours, let me know when you’re getting off.” She leans back against his desk and he laughs.

“Well, I think that’ll be up to how you treat me.” She flushes at the joke but laughs with him anyway. “Leave your hotel’s address, I’ll be sure to plan us a spectacular night.”

“Not too flashy Colonel, you know how I feel about your public persona.”

“Yes ma’am.” He leans in and kisses her. He intends for it to be a peck, or at least, she thinks that’s his intention. But his mouth against hers feels so divine that she pulls him in for a deeper kiss. Her tongue has a mind of its own and slips into his mouth. His hand creeps up her thigh and she can’t help but grip at his hair.

He pulls away, dark eyes boring into her with need and good humor. “You’re going to kill me.”

“Sorry,” she whispers breathlessly. “I’m… I should go.”

She makes no attempt to move out of his grasp and he laughs.

“Miss Hawkeye, you came in here and turned my day upside down. Now you expect me to get back to work?”

“I think you have no choice, sir.” She says the honorific a bit lower than she intended and he shudders in response.

Sucking down a shaky breath he nods, “I’ll see you tonight then… nothing too formal, but nothing too casual either.”

She turns around, grabs a spare piece of paper and scribbles the name of her hotel. Then she makes sure to chat with Mustang’s team before departing from his office. One of her depositions gets moved to tomorrow but that gives her time to rush back to the hotel to get herself more presentable.

She would absolutely deny how much effort she puts into her appearance. She spends a solid ten minutes alone on her eyeliner and she nearly throws the first dress she pulls out into the garbage. This is ridiculous, he’s just some guy… but he’s also a man she’s very intent on impressing… in many facets.

He’s wearing a suit jacket and a button up shirt with the top two buttons undone - men have it so damn easy. Luckily he’s gobsmacked by her; she wears a self-satisfied smile as she tugs at the massive bouquet in his hands.

“This part of your apology, Mustang?” she asks coyly.

He opens and closes his mouth a few times before answering. “It’s the start of it, certainly, although if you keep dressing like that I might have more apologies to make.”

She laughs, “Down boy, we have work to do.”

“Yes we do,” he grins. He tries to push the flowers into her hands but she merely laughs.

“I don’t have a vase,” she deadpans.

He grins, “Guess we’ll have to fix that.”

“Hm, maybe after dinner.” She brushes past him and climbs into the open car door.

“Miss Hawkeye, did you trick me into working after hours?” Mustang asks as he speeds off towards their destination.

“Perhaps I did, I want to pick your brain a bit.” She rifles through her purse to appear uninterested. “What do you know about General Tully?”

Roy groans and mutters under his breath, “Shit brick.”

“As I suspected,” she chuckles. “I’m hoping to get him to plead to thirty charges.”

He whips around to look at her in shock, and Riza nearly reaches over to steal the wheel from him so they don’t crash.

“Sir!”

“What the hell did he do!?” Roy asks dumbly.

She can’t help but laugh, “Can you keep a secret?”

“Can I ever.” He returns his gaze to the road as another car honks furiously at them.

The ride is almost thirty minutes and in that time she details the laundry list of accusations against the General. Roy is enthralled; he tells her that she’s earned the best wine on the menu for the information she’s gathered. Riza laughs and orders her pink moscato without so much as skipping a beat.

“General Grumman is going to love this,” Roy says into his glass.

“I thought it was a well kept secret,” she balks at him.

“I meant when the charges are announced,” he assures her. “God I can’t believe he’s actually… you know what, I can; I can believe he’s a bonafide criminal. It makes so much sense.”

“Well, perhaps I should conduct a deposition with you too,” Riza chuckles.

“You could… in fact, you should. I’m packed with meetings until four tomorrow, but if you can, pencil me in for the end of the day. I have some intel you’d be interested in.”

“You know the way to a girl’s heart, Mustang.”

“I try,” he grins at her.

“Oh, remind me that I have something to show you when we get back to the hotel.”

Mustang raises a brow at her but smiles easily, “You always have such good surprises for me.”

“I certainly like to think so.”

He doesn’t spend the night in the traditional sense; he slips out of the hotel room around 11:30. Riza is fine with it, mostly because there are whispered promises of tomorrow and the next day… and the next day.

He’s filling up more than just her calendar.

She wonders if she should feel guilty about this… their… entanglement, that is. She imagines she should, she imagines that the thrill should fade and she should see clearly that this whole mess is… Well… a mess.

But it hasn’t faded even as she dabs perfume behind her ears. The truth is that she’s excited to see him again. The truth is being away from her own office has her feeling a bit more at ease. She likes East City, she likes feeling like she’s not under constant scrutiny, she likes feeling more or less invisible.

Riza has always considered herself a reserved person. The fact that she chose a career where she puts herself in a position of constantly public speaking had shocked her mother and the ladies who raised her. Bleeding hearts can overcome the worst of fears it seems; but here, where she can slink into the shadows a bit more… it’s comforting to say the least.

No one pays her much mind at all and if they notice her, it’s a passing glance at best. Back in Central, she has a name and a reputation to uphold. Here she's just another cog in the machine wearing a pencil skirt.

A pencil skirt which is currently riding up the length of her thighs as she’s hoisted onto Roy Mustang’s desk. His lips are hot and wanting against hers, one of his hands swipes away the papers on his desk while the other cradles her lower back.

She’s glad their deposition started later than anticipated. She heard Mustang groan to a fellow soldier about being stuck with a late night meeting with a lawyer, and now the Command Center is empty. Their deposition started five minutes ago but it seems they can’t keep their hands off each other.

Then the phone rings and Riza gasps, nearly snapping her neck as she looks towards the door. It’s still closed, locked with alchemy even, according to Mustang - some trick he learned from his old tutor he said - but Riza is panicking as he plucks the phone off of the receiver.

“What?” he snaps.

Riza tries to straighten herself out but he keeps her caged in place. She tries to fix him with a glare but her eyes drift to the bob of his Adam's apple.

“Lieutenant Colonel Hughes for you on an outside line.” Riza can just barely hear the secretary on the other end. A mixture of relief and humor ripple through her and Roy seems to go through a similar journey.

“Put him through,” Mustang grumbles, though the smile on his lips betrays him.

“IT’S A GIRL!!!” Hughes shouts so loudly that even Riza’s ears hurt a little.

“What the hell is wrong with you!?” Mustang snaps.

“I’m a girl dad! I have a beautiful baby girl!” Riza swallows a nervous laugh; certainly if she can hear Hughes he’d be able to hear her too… she does not need him asking questions. “My Gracia- it was incredible Roy! She was- it was- 56 hours. She was in labor for 56 fucking hours and she’s incredible and she made the most incredible little person and you HAVE to come meet her!”

Roy groans but Riza sees the smile on his face plain as day.

“Gracia said no visitors until she’s a month old. I’m not about to break a new mom’s rules,” Roy says humorlessly.

“I’ll mail you photos then… Roy, she's perfect.” Hughes sounds a little bit like he’s crying. Riza’s heart tugs in her chest with a fondness she can’t name.

“Congrats, I’m happy for you… we’ll… we’ll catch up later.”

“Right, I have a whole list of people to call… by the way, just out of curiosity, have you heard from Hawkeye?”

Riza stiffens and Roy’s hand curls into her hair as his gaze darts playfully to hers.

“Not recently, why?”

“Her secretary said she’s out of office for the week, which I don’t think has ever happened… just something you might want to follow up on.”

“Thanks for the intel, but shouldn’t you be on leave?”

“I was calling through my alphabetized list of ‘need-to-knows’ okay? Sue me!”

“She’s on your ‘need-to-knows’?” Roy asks skeptically.

“Well, yeah, she’s in on everything… and besides, maybe I want my best friend to experience the joys of parenthood!”

Riza feels her eyes widen at that. Roy sighs and shakes his head. “Hughes-”

“One of you has got to get your head out of your ass to see what’s right in front of you. I’m telling you, Roy… the longer you let the past control you the less you’ll see the future that’s right in front of you.”

Roy looks at her, really looks at her, and Riza looks back at him with equal enthrallment. What can they even say to that?

“I can’t outrun the past, Maes.” Riza’s not sure she’s ever heard Roy say the Lieutenant Colonel’s first name… at least not like that. When he says it with that lilt of sadness it hints at some deeper scar that she’s not yet privy to. It makes her heart ache just the slightest bit.

“Then don’t outrun it, learn to live with it.”

“Go back to your family, I have work to do.”

“Roy-”

“There’s something in the mail for you, by the way, don’t let it go to your head.”

It’s quiet for a moment. “You soft son of a bitch.”

“I’m hanging up now.”

“Call Hawkeye for me when you get the chance.”

Roy hangs up the call and then he locks eyes with Riza.

“What was that about?” Riza asks, one hand loosely trailing down his chest.

“Well, the baby’s here and you’re MIA, soldier,” Roy teases lightly.

“Roy-” He’s kissing her again, fiercely and almost indignantly. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you were hiding something.”

He laughs, “Don’t be absurd, I’m not hiding anything.”

“Really?” she retorts, her fingers gently twirling the hair at the nape of his neck.

“Not from you at least, I was most definitely hiding a few things from him.”

He tries to dive back in for a kiss but she holds him back, nose to nose she examines his features.

“Tell me,” she says gently.

“I shouldn’t,” he breathes.

“Why not?”

“I don’t want to scare you.”

“I don’t frighten easily.”

“Even if I had feelings for you?” he asks. His tone is terse but sincere, it makes her heart stall.

“Feelings?” she can’t help but repeat back dumbly.

“Yes, feelings. Real ones… the deep, longing, foolish kind of feelings that we shouldn’t have.”

She loosens her hold on the back of his head some. “Like the ones I have for you?”

It’s his turn to look dumbfounded. “What?”

“Just because we can’t… talk about them or… be open about them doesn’t mean… doesn’t mean they aren’t real.”

He steals her lips for another kiss, then he whispers, “Feelings can be quiet.”

“Yeah,” she agrees breathlessly.

She carries that idea with her for the rest of her trip, this idea that whatever they have between them… nameless as it is, is reciprocated. Feelings are complex and messy and who’s to say anything would even come of them?

But there’s also something to be said for knowing exactly where she stands with him. They’re fond of each other, they care for each other, they believe in one another’s goals and there is support between them. Who needs to name that?

She looks at him as he walks her towards the exit of the command center that last day and she thinks that maybe - just maybe - there’s a world where they can be open about this.

“Miss Hawkeye?” The pair turn towards Ms. Penny Koran nervously glancing back up the stairwell. “Do you… have a moment?”

“Of course,” Riza nods. “Colonel, thank you for your time.”

They shake hands and Riza ends up following the secretary to a small abandoned office space at the back of the command center. With trembling hands she offers Riza a stack of papers.

“I… I’m not ready to… to testify to any of this but please keep them… just… just in case.”

“Ms. Koran-”

“General Hakuro is not a good man, Miss Hawkeye,” she says nervously. “He’s not a good man but I… I need this job and he knows that. I need his recommendation for when… if I ever choose to move on from the military.”

Riza shoves the files into her brief case. “You know, Ms. Koran, there is such a thing as anonymity in indictments. It’s not until trial that you have to be named, especially at the federal level.”

Ms. Koran folds her arms and averts her gaze.

“You get to decide the charges, ma’am. Just because you tell me something… that doesn’t mean I have to charge anyone with anything,” Riza tells her gently. “What I’m saying is, nothing leaves this room.”

She flicks her gaze up from her feet. “I’m aware, Miss Hawkeye, that’s the only reason I agreed to speak with you.”

“About the Tully case,” Riza nods knowingly.

“Right…” she bites the inside of her cheek in thought.

“But if you did were to press charges of your own, what would they be?” Riza asks conversationally.

Ms. Koran looks away again. “I don’t know the law too well, I’m just some girl from the country who’s good at typing.”

“Humor me.”

“There isn’t much to say, really,” Ms. Koran bites her lip. “There’s nothing wrong with buying your secretary a few extra things to keep her quiet. That’s not necessarily a crime.”

Riza nods once, “Not on its own, you’re right.”

There’s a long pause as they both wait for the other to speak.

“Thank you, Miss Hawkeye,” she smiles down towards the briefcase that now holds whatever documents she’d been so nervous about. “You…”

Riza waits for a moment, “Yes?”

“In your field… you’d call it a man’s world too?”

“Oh yes,” Riza gives a gentle laugh. “That’s exactly what I’d call it.”

“And you… do the men ever… overstep?”

“Just about everyday.”

She adjusts her uniform. “I… if I told you that… that I have a son who… whose father was… never entered on his birth certificate… what would you… say to that?”

Riza holds in her shock at the realization. “I’d say I know a damn good family lawyer who’s lacking in pro-bono hours.”

Ms. Koran nods. “I need to get back before the General’s luncheon ends.”

“Ms. Koran, do you feel safe here?” Riza asks much more intensely than she means to.

“Does anyone feel safe?” The question feels like a kick in the teeth.

“Some do,” Riza responds gently. “It’s my job to help us get there.”

“The only people who feel safe in this country are ignorant or have done unspeakable things to buy their safety. I’d like to go back to being the latter.”

“There is no going back. All we can do is try to fix it.”

Ms. Koran chuckles quietly, “I’ll have to leave the hard work of that to braver people than me. I was never like you, Miss Hawkeye, I’m not a fighter.”

“Not everyone has to fight, Ms. Koran, some of us just have to speak up. Or at the very least, put the right papers into the right hands.” Riza gestures to her briefcase. “But, please, don’t get in trouble on my account. If you ever need anything feel free to call my line directly.”

Riza offers her a business card and Ms. Koran swiftly tucks it into the pocket of her jacket.

Riza boards her train back to Central, too nervous to pull out those documents. Her heart breaks for Penny Koran. How many times in her (admittedly short) career has she seen women just like her? How many women get stuck in a situation where men hold money or status or freedom over their heads?

Why can’t she stop men like that? Why can’t she fix this sort of mess?

Riza finds herself arriving home earlier than expected. She looks at her briefcase and she knows she should dive into those papers. But she doesn’t, instead she goes to that stupid retirement party. She goes and she meets Dr. Kiefer’s son and she lets him give her his number. She entertains the idea of trying to find a man who isn’t mixed up in… whatever the hell she’s found herself in the midst of.

She goes home after a suitable amount of time. She twirls the scrap of paper with this man’s number on it a few times before resolving to shove it in the drawer with the others.

She catches a glimpse of Roy Mustang’s numbers and feels a wash of shame flood her features… then she notices something she hadn’t before. She pulls it out of the drawer and scrutinizes it.

That third number she’s been neglecting… isn’t that Chris’ number?

Chapter Text

Madam Christmas - or Ms. Chris as Riza called her growing up - has been a friend of her mother’s ever since she can remember. She’s not sure how they know one another; she had never questioned it before, but now… how is she involved with Roy too?

Chris has always been a keeper of secrets. Her mother often went to Chris with files and things Riza had not been allowed to ask about. Then, when she was older, Chris became a reliable adult when Riza didn’t want to go to her mother, or better yet outright disobeyed her. Chris helped Riza get on birth control when she knew she was too young to be fooling around but wanted to anyway. Chris picked her up from parties she’d snuck out to attend in high school and never once breathed a word of it to her mother.

So the idea of Chris being involved with the military isn’t a shock; it’s that it’s Roy. Not only is it Roy, but it’s one of three numbers he gave Riza to contact him, which must mean they’re close enough for him to trust her with secretive communications. What kind of fucked up small world are they living in?

She refrains from calling it right away, she just can’t bring herself to lean into her curiosity. Besides, what would she do? Tell her Elizabeth is calling? Would she outright ask Chris how she knows Mustang? Because that would open the door to Chris asking questions in return and what if she figures out her and Roy are… whatever they are…

No, she buries that down and forces herself to go to bed - she promised to meet Mr. Frank to discuss her findings bright and early, anyway. It’ll serve as a perfect distraction.

Of course, a meeting about one case spirals into a meeting about three other cases and by the time she digs herself out of a pile of work it’s been almost a month since her revelation.

She cups her face in her hands, her head is throbbing and her shoulders ache with the weight of the current investigation she’s rifling through. Does anyone in the police actually care about justice? Are they doing whatever they want over there? How are they this incompetent?

“Riza?” Rebecca knocks at her door with a sheepish smile.

“You heading out?” Riza looks up at her wearily.

“Not just yet… you uh… have a call from-”

“Put her through,” Riza sighs. Not a moment later Riza’s answering a call, “Hi mama.”

“Hi baby, you’re still at the office?”

“It’s not even five yet.” Riza reminds her, limply flipping through the file on the desk.

“I know honey, but you sound so tired.”

Riza thinks she deserves some praise for ignoring that. “What’s up? Do you need something?”

“I was just calling to remind you about the hospital gala coming up next week,” she says with a lilt to her voice that suggests something nefarious.

Still, Riza pauses as an idea comes to fruition. “Of course, I’ll be there.”

“Great! We should go dress shopping sometime this week.”

“Sure. Hey mom, you haven’t hosted a dinner at your place in a while,” Riza quickly whips out her calendar.

“… I suppose you’re right, why bring it up?”

“I haven’t heard from Auntie Karina or Ms. Chris in ages. I’m curious what they’re up to.” Riza says, surreptitiously scribbling down a few good dates for such an event.

“Oh? Why the sudden interest in my friends?” Her mother makes a breathless laugh that gives Riza pause. “Not trying to plan a surprise party are you, dear? My birthday’s still several months away.”

Riza bites the inside of her cheek, “Well, mom, if you must know, I was looking for an outside opinion on a boy.”

Her mother makes a sound that Riza is sure could bring a dog to heel. “Oh, Riza honey we can-”

“Not you, mom, I know what your opinion is!” Riza cuts her off. “I’m entertaining the idea, and I want to talk to someone uninvolved, okay?”

“You can talk to me about anything, love bug.”

“Ma,” Riza snips. “I’m putting up a boundary, alright? I’m throwing you a bone by telling you about it, but I want Ms. Chris or Auntie to talk through it. I know how you feel and I… well I just want to talk to someone who’s got no skin in the game, okay?”

There’s silence for a moment, but when her mother speaks Riza can hear the smile in her voice.

“I understand, but you can talk to me about it.”

“Maybe once I’m more decided.”

“Did he say anything to you? Have you called him?”

“Mom, boundaries,” Riza reminds her.

“You want me to ask,” her mother insists.

“I said the opposite.”

“Still, he’s such a nice young man-”

“Anyway, a party?” Riza asks.

“I’ll ask around, you know they prefer-”

“Mondays and Tuesdays, I know. How about the 16th or the 24th?”

“I’ll see which one works best for them! Oh, and I’ll ask some of the other girls to join us.”

“Sounds good.” Riza flicks her gaze over to where Rebecca stands with a stack of files. “I have to go, love you.”

“Love you baby, I’ll call you tonight.”

Riza hangs up with a sigh. “So?”

“The hospital called, I confirmed your meeting to go over autopsy reports tomorrow.”

Riza winces at her. “That means I’m having lunch with my mother. Don’t expect me back until late.”

“Praying for you.” Rebecca plops the files onto her desk. “Sooooooo-”

“Yes, that means you can leave early.”

“Yay!”

Rebecca skips out of the office as Riza melts into her chair. Was involving her mother a stupid idea? Probably. Will she be paying for it later? Most definitely… Still, she’s glad to have something ticked off on her rapidly growing list of threads to follow.

She blindly finishes her work for the day and finds herself half asleep just before her morning meeting with the coroner. Armed with a triple shot latte and a file so thick it could be mistaken for an encyclopedia, she walks into his office without so much as a knock.

“Good morning, Doctor, I-”

She almost drops her coffee because instead of Dr. Knox she finds Roy Mustang with his hands folded behind his back. He, too, looks shocked, though he recovers far less quickly than she does.

“Colonel Mustang, can’t say I’m surprised.”

He blinks dumbly at her. “Huh?”

“You keep cropping up like this. I can’t keep pretending to be surprised that we run into each other here, there, and everywhere.”

“Ouch?” He manages to laugh.

“May I sit? Or is this not your new office?” Riza tries to tease.

“Oh, please do sit. Knox won’t mind, I’m sure.”

Riza chuckles, “As you can imagine I’m not exactly his favorite person to see.”

“Trust me when I say, he’s much more upset to see me than he ever is to see you.”

Riza can tell that the earnestness of that statement is more prevalent than she might have otherwise assumed. The self-deprecating smile, the way he can’t meet her eyes… it gives her pause.

“Well, he hates testifying and that’s half of what I come to talk to him about.”

Mustang snorts, “Brutal.”

“Oh, before I forget.” She roots around in her purse before producing a business card. “Per your last request.”

“You’re an angel,” he beams at her.

“Tell me that three drinks in with Brooks, he’s not an easy one to win over.”

“How can I ever repay you for your service?” He leans in just a bit to where she’s sat.

“Well, you could call me for… non-work-related reasons,” Riza teases.

He gives her a look of amused surprise. “Miss Hawkeye, are you suggesting that I thank you with sexual favors?”

“I didn’t tell you anything,” she says.

“Little weasel,” he laughs.

“Hey, if you’re propositioning phone sex, I won’t say no,” she smirks.

He leans in closer, his lips nearly touch her ear, “But what if I want to see what I do to you?”

A flush fills her cheeks and she sips her coffee to keep herself from lunging at him. Thankfully Dr. Knox walks in not too long after.

“Oh, good, my two least favorite people,” he grumbles. Based on Riza’s experience with the man, this is a sign that he’s in a good mood.

“I was just leaving; there’s a gift for you under the desk,” Mustang smiles at him. “I’ll call for a follow up, Doc. Miss Hawkeye, it was a pleasure.”

Riza waves at him as Dr. Knox slams the door shut.

“Pompous prick,” he grumbles. “If you know what’s good for you, Hawkeye, you’ll stay away from him.”

“So I’ve heard,” Riza mutters. “You know Mustang I take it? From the war, I presume?”

“Keep your nose out of his business. I’d hate to incur your mother’s wrath if she found out I indulged your curiosity on that one.”

Riza pauses. “What… does that mean?”

“It means Mustang is trouble on wheels and everyone knows it. Get too close to the fire and you’re bound to get burned. And as much as I hate my job somedays, I don’t fancy being homeless.”

“So…” she hums, “He never told you about me? About my… work with him?”

Knox looks at her discerningly for a moment and then he slaps a hand over his eyes. “God fucking damn it.”

“He hasn’t then.”

“This conversation didn’t happen,” Knox says sharply. “Not a word of it.”

“Of course,” Riza nods.

Knox sighs, “Mustang is… delusional first and foremost. For some reason, he thinks he can change this country for the better. Even if I know he’s fighting a losing war… I can’t… I don’t think anyone can say no to that particular vision, can we?”

“Good people can’t,” Riza agrees quietly. Her heart flutters as she thinks about it, about Roy and his mission to repair their broken nation. Knox’s snort brings her out of whatever dangerous thought she was beginning to explore.

“We’re not good people, Miss Hawkeye, none of us are.”

“No one is,” Riza says. “No one is because we all have darkness inside of us. Goodness is a choice, and a lot of people don’t make that choice.”

The doctor looks at her discerningly. “I suppose that means you’re delusional too, then?”

“Extremely,” Riza gives him a small smile.

“Well… don’t say I didn’t warn you,” he sighs.

“Appreciated…” Riza wordlessly pushes the casefile onto his desk and Knox gives her a look that may make her his next corpse to examine… still, they pull themselves together for a long-haul meeting. Riza feels a little sick to her stomach looking at all of these cases.

Crime scene photos have proven to be an immeasurable help in prosecuting cases, but god are they hard to look at. It leaves her feeling unsettled even as she goes to check in with her mother. The image of that body-… that girl, brutalized by a man she thought she loved-

“Riza, baby, what are you doing here?” Her mother looks at her as she’s locking up her office.

“Didn’t I mention? I had a meeting with the coroner’s office this morning,” she forces a smile.

“Oh love bug… here, let me just reschedule-”

“If you’re busy I can-”

“Nonsense, we have so much to talk about. I want to hear everything about this boy you’ve taken a liking to!”

“Ma.”

But Mrs. Hawkeye is skittering off to make a few phone calls before returning to her daughter. Riza manages to stave off her mother’s insistence (by some miracle) long enough that she can get away with only minor details. He’s handsome and I met him through a friend and you definitely don’t know him.

Honestly, the whole thing doesn’t bother her as much as she thinks it should. In fact, she finds herself thinking about it weeks after the fact. As she’s sitting in her office, she thinks back on the conversation and wonders why it doesn’t bother her more. Her mother has continued to try to insert herself (again), her mother is fixated on her romantic prospects (again), and her mother is ignoring Riza’ very successful career (again). And yet… she wishes she could talk about it more.

What is wrong with her? She can’t talk about her and Roy’s relationship; it simply isn’t possible. They don’t have a relationship for one thing, they have… feelings, nameless feelings that are reciprocated, sure… but they’re also… something else. It’s messy and inappropriate, her mother would have a stroke if she found out Riza’s having extramarital sex with a colleague.

So why does she find herself wanting to talk about it? Why does she find herself drawn further and further into the hole that is Roy Mustang’s coup?

“Miss Hawkeye, I have Private Sturge and Corporal Tout here,” Rebecca looks at her with a grimace.

Riza steels herself. “Send them in, leave the door open.”

The two young men blink dumbly at her as they enter her office. Either they’re shocked that the door is being left wide open so the whole office can hear this meeting, or they’re shocked at how young she is… or that she’s a woman. That’s always a possibility.

“Do you know why I called this meeting?” she asks pointedly, not wasting a single moment on pleasantries.

After a moment the Corporal speaks up: “I assume it’s about the Lewis case.”

“You’re damned right it is,” she snips, slamming the case file onto the desk. “I haven’t been in this game too long, but even I know when I see sloppy, careless police work. What the fuck is wrong with you two?”

They seem shocked by her foul mouth and immediate rage. Still the Private gathers himself.

“Respectfully, you’re not our superior officer and you don’t know what it takes to be a part of the force.”

“Oh my boss is on your boss’s case, I promise you that,” she sneers. “But it doesn’t take a tactical genius to know that you shouldn’t be drinking on the damn job! Your piss poor investigation work is going to cost us this case!”

“We did a thorough investigation,” Tout claims.

“You tap danced over the defendant’s rights! You executed a search with a warrant that was only good to search his office and not his home! You crashed the vehicle you had him apprehended in! You told people outside of this case confidential personal information about the defendant! You fumbled this case at every stage, and I won’t be surprised if the court throws the whole damn thing out because you did a shit job!”

“We-”

“I’m not done,” she snaps. “If you want to be a pair of clowns get out of the fucking military. If you continue to do shoddy investigations, criminals will be let go. If you think for even one moment that the military will cover your low-ranking ass, you’ve got another damn thing coming. Your job is to make this city safer and if you insist on being idiots on the clock you’re going to land your ass on the unemployment line.”

“Needed to feel big today, did you?” The Corporal interrupts her tirade. “Do you feel better throwing a little bitch fit at us because you couldn’t get him convicted?”

Riza sees red. “He’s still in custody-”

“Which means we did a fine job, then. He’s off the street, like you so kindly pointed out-”

“You are missing the damn point.”

“You on your period or something?” Sturge scoffs.

“I was going to just give you the dressing down you deserved but I guess you really do want a write up from the court, don’t you?” She glowers at the pair of stooges before her.

“Hey Miss, quick question, who gives a fuck?” Tout asks lowly. “This guy’s a fucking coke head and he’s where he belongs. Who cares what got him there? It’s your job to keep them in jail and it’s ours to put them there. Don’t overstep your station just cause you have some fancy degree.”

Riza feels her throat tighten. It’s simply not worth it to explain that violations of basic human decency is never acceptable, even for criminals, even for society’s worst offenders. Everyone is entitled to some form of basic rights… until the court takes them away at least.

“If you are shit at your job those people will get out of prison, and they will be more dangerous than they were going in,” she says hotly. “You cannot do whatever the fuck you feel like to whoever you decide is a criminal. That’s not how this works, and you’re damn lucky that I’m the one calling you out on it and not your boss. Though I imagine he’ll have something to say about it.”

Tout snorts, “Doubtful. We do good work, we get results.”

“Doesn’t sound like it.”

Riza looks up to see none other than Maes Hughes boiling with rage. Roy stands behind him looking just as lethal.

“Lieutenant Colonel,” the two idiots stand to salute.

“You know it’s one thing to make a mistake, it’s another thing entirely to be a complete and total fuck up on purpose.” Hughes takes agonizingly slow steps towards them. “And if I’m not mistaken your boss is my subordinate, isn’t that right?”

“Sir, we-”

“Isn’t it?”

“Yes, sir,”

“You go into the world making an idiot of yourself on your own time? That’s fine, I couldn’t give two shits about that. You fuck up on the clock? In my district? Under my command? Now we have problems. Do you see why we have problems?” The two of them are silent as Hughes comes to stand beside Riza. “What we don’t do as soldiers is step out of line. We don’t argue with this office, who, by the way, is our ally in keeping our country safe. And we most certainly do not talk back when we’re getting a rightfully deserved scolding. Do I make myself clear?”

“Yes, sir.”

“I will be having a long, in depth conversation with your commander about this,” Hughes sneers. “Now, Miss Hawkeye, did you have anything else to say to them?”

Riza pulls out two court orders. “You’re being called by the judge for a hearing. The clerk of court will be in contact.”

“I think that means you two are dismissed,” Hughes gestures towards the door.

The two of them steal their documents and beeline out of the courthouse. But not before gawking at the Flame Alchemist who’s just waiting to close the door behind them.

“So… that went well,” Hughes snorts. “I heard about this, I think. Tons of MPs have been under investigation recently because of a court order, right? It’s like a plague of bad cops lately.”

Riza is too busy trying to calm down. She’s mad as hell that she needed back up, she’s mad as hell that these two fuck ups fought back against her when they should know better. She’s at a complete and total loss for what to do next in this fucking case.

“Hawkeye?”

“Sorry, what was that?” she asks, fighting off the thickness in her throat.

“You okay?” Mustang asks, taking a seat across from her.

“Oh sure,” she chuckles. “Just having my daily ‘why the fuck do I even do this job’ moment. It’ll pass… it usually does, anyhow.”

For some inexplicable reason she wants to cry… she can’t put her finger one why. This isn’t the first time she’s had to scold officers. This isn’t the first time they’ve fought back, and this isn’t even the first time she’s needed reinforcements. Still, something in her chest burns and her eyes strain to keep the tears back.

“Anyway, how can I help you both?” She has to clear her throat after asking the question.

A heavy hand lands on her shoulder. “You could start by telling us the truth. You okay?”

Riza sighs, “It’s not just them, they’re not even my main problem today and I’m just a tad bit exhausted… oh, Colonel I-”

She cuts herself off before mentioning the fact that something new came up from her investigation into that East City drama. No one besides him even knows she was there, especially not Hughes who had given her an earful about missing the birth announcement.

“Yes?”

“I…” she clears her throat again, “I was just wondering if you knew someone by the name of Tully?”

Mustang takes a moment, clearly calculating a response. “General Tully?”

She nods and Hughes groans, “Don’t tell me you got involved with that shit show.”

“You know him?”

“Do I ever. Wish I could say I didn’t,” Hughes huffs.

Riza nods. “Look let’s… let’s go over what you came for first and if we have time then we can talk about my mess. Sound good?”

Hughes grimaces but Mustang jumps at the opportunity to change the subject. They need her to gather some intel about a particular political faction that’s been causing some mess in the media. Before they can get to her ‘problems’ an officer from Hughes’ office barges in with an urgent message on a case.

He gripes about getting home late as he storms out.

“Well, that’s convenient,” Riza chuckles limply.

“Isn’t it just?” Roy smirks at her.

“Walk me to my car?”

“I can walk you to your apartment if you prefer.”

She should say no, but she doesn’t. She should be more cautious about him. He knows Ms. Chris, he knows Knox, he keeps cropping up all over the place. She doesn’t really know him, and she should be wary of that. Yet she can’t seem to stay away, she keeps falling into his orbit for one reason or another. He’s just… different from everyone else. He sees the world the way she does, he understands her in a way no one ever has before.

He leads her to her car, and she drives them to her apartment. Then they fall into bed and somewhere along the way she starts crying in his arms.

“I’m sorry,” she sighs shakily.

“It’s okay,” he attempts to reassure her. He kisses her temple and she can’t help but turn into his chest and sob.

“I just… I know I shouldn’t but…”

“It’s okay, it’s okay to cry. Healthy even,” he chuckles breathlessly.

“I’m not strong enough for this work sometimes,” she admits.

“It’s got nothing to do with how strong you are,” he says. “It’s got everything to do with the fact that the world is full of pricks who won’t hesitate to be cruel. It’s a heavy job, you’re not weak for buckling under the weight. Especially when you keep going anyway. That’s where the toughness lives. You’re stronger than half of military, I can guarantee you that.”

It’s her turn to laugh through her tears, “Not sure if this was what you had in mind when I invited you over. I’m sorry about that.”

He hums as he looks past her, not at anything in particular if the glaze in his eye is earnest.

“It’s nice… not that you’re crying just… the honesty…” he says it so softly Riza nearly doesn’t hear it.

“You can be honest here,” she says gently. As if she’s trying not to startle him out of his own head.

He smirks, still looking far away, “I’m always honest.”

“Sure,” Riza agrees.

She nearly asks him about Chris but she doesn’t want to spoil the moment. She doesn’t know how on earth he and Chris know each other but the answer can’t possibly be easy to explain. It might lead to more questions, more work; and Riza simply doesn’t want to think about work right now.

So she climbs out of bed and orders them dinner: drunken noodles, curry puffs, and an ungodly amount of sticky rice. Roy makes a joke about how she should cry more often; she throws the empty take out bag at him and it makes him laugh harder.

The radio plays in the background as they talk for far longer than she was anticipating. He leaves at two in the morning, slipping out like a thief in the night. Riza tamps down the desire to tell him to stay, instead she goes to bed and tries not to focus on his scent sticking to the sheets.

She doesn’t see him again, though he calls to let her know something came up in East City. She appreciates the call and tries not to think about how fervently she wishes he’d have stayed.

Still, she has bigger fish to fry. She’s in court everyday (and wins the case, thank you kindly), she settles three cases, and conducts an ungodly amount of meetings.

Suddenly it’s the night of her mother’s dinner party and she hasn’t given any thought to it. She’s just hurrying out of the courthouse, late as usual, fixing her make up in the rearview mirror whenever the light is red; and wondering how the hell she’s going to broach the topic.

When she arrives, she’s near immediately surrounded by her mother’s friends. They pinch and kiss her cheeks, they tell her how beautiful and how grown she is. Riza smiles at each of them and fields their questions with ease:

Yes, still working at the courthouse.

No boyfriend yet, nope.

Yes, I’m quite pleased with being single.

I’ve vaguely heard about that celebrity gossip, please tell me more.

And so on and so forth. Her mother pulls her away and nearly plants her at Ms. Chris’ side.

“Long time no see,” Chris offers her a smirk.

“It has been a long time, hasn’t it?” Riza chuckles, leaning in to kiss her cheeks.

“Sure has, I think the last time I saw you was after graduation. You’re looking good.”

“Thank you,” Riza glances at her mother. Who is, in fact, hovering.

“Come with me for a smoke?” Chris offers.

“Certainly,”

“Riza!” Her mother gasps at her.

“To chat, Mom. Don’t worry, I don’t touch that stuff,” Riza insists.

Chris snorts beside her. Chris knows far too much about Riza’s vices… and it’s about to get worse.

“Well I-”

“We’ll be right back, Abbie, don’t worry about a thing,” Chris assures her.

Riza’s mother sighs. “Be back soon. Dinner’s getting served with or without you in twenty minutes.”

Riza nods before she follows Chris out of the apartment.

“Now Riza,” Chris says as they start down the stairs. “You know that if you’re worried enough about a boy to ask me about him, he’s nowhere near good enough for you.”

Riza almost laughs, “Thanks for trusting my judgement.”

“You’re a very smart girl. But even the smartest of people get real stupid for love. I don’t want to see you getting that particular affliction.”

“To be honest, Chris, it’s more complicated than that,” Riza admits.

Chris cocks a brow at her, “Oh?”

“I may have fibbed to my mom just a bit,” Riza sighs.

“I’m not going to like where this is going, am I?” Chris groans.

“I’m not sure.” Riza flushes a bit at Chris’s immediate disdain.

Chris pulls out a cigarette with a huff. “Well, let’s get this over with; how big is his-”

“Chris!” Riza gasps, completely scandalized as they exit the building. “It’s not… just… How do you know Roy Mustang?”

The cigarette falls to the ground as Chris looks at Riza with a dead look in her eye.

“What?” Chris asks blankly.

“Roy Mustang, how do you know him?” Riza asks again. “He… he and I are… acquainted and-”

“And how acquainted exactly are you two!?” Chris nearly demands.

“We… well,” Riza blushes to the tips of her ears before lowering her voice. “Look I’m helping him with a… personal mission of his and he gave me your number and told me to call if I ever needed him. Code name and all.”

Chris slaps a hand over her forehead, “No… no you’re not.”

“So if an Elizabeth ever calls you-”

“You’re Elizabeth!?” Chris’ voice is quiet but sharp as she snips at Riza.

“Yes… I… I’ve mostly been able to reach him in person or through his secretary so-”

“Unbelievable… unbelievable.” Chris pulls out a new cigarette and lights it in record time. Riza stands and waits awkwardly for Chris to say something else. “Are you sure you want to be wrapped up in all of this?”

“To be honest, I already am.”

“Oh? How long have you been in this?” Chris asks, taking a long drag of her cigarette.

“A little over a year now,” Riza says and Chris sighs again. “We help each other here and there, just for our respective goals.”

“Goals, huh?” Chris snorts.

“Don’t be crass,” Riza insists.

“But you’re doing crass things with him, aren’t you?” Chris raises a brow and gives her a once over. Riza may be able to lie to her mother, but no one can lie to Chris. She’d see straight through god given the chance.

“Well… that’s a separate issue.” Chris sighs at the answer but Riza bites back her flustered instincts to keep pestering her. “How do you know him?”

“He’s my nephew.”

That answer takes Riza aback. “I’m sorry?”

“He’s my nephew. My brother died when Roy was very young, I doubt he even remembers his parents. I raised him,” Chris answers easily.

Oh… oh… Riza wasn’t expecting this.

“But… why is he involving you in all of this?”

Chris pinches the bridge of her nose. “For the love of… Alright, your mother can never know I told you this. Understood?”

“Of course. My mother knows nothing about any of this. For the record.”

“Oh, I know,” Chris chuckles. “She’d have died if she knew.”

“Well, that’s harsh,” Riza grumbles.

“What do you think I do for work, hon?”

“I… assume you work at the hospital, right?”

“Fuck no,” Chris laughs again. “I knew your mother long before she worked at that hospital.”

Riza thinks back… that certainly makes sense, Chris has been in their lives for… a long time. But Riza never gave much thought to where she worked. It never mattered before.

“I mean this very sincerely, Riza, what I’m about to tell you stays between us.”

“I promise.”

Riza learns that Chris owns a bar… a very particular sort of bar with a very particular sort of clientele. Riza can’t tell which part shocks her more: The fact that her mother is friends with a brothel owner or the fact that she’s been babysat by escorts her whole life… and her mother still somehow thinks Riza’s a virgin.

The legality of it all isn’t even on her radar because she’s too busy swallowing the fact that Chris owns a brothel. A brothel with high end clients that give her intel that she also sells. That Chris is also Chris Mustang, the aunt of Riza’s… whatever he is.

Riza is reeling as she plants her back against the apartment complex’s wall.

“So, that’s that… I take it Roy explained none of this.”

Riza shakes her head. “I guess he didn’t need to… I doubt he has any idea we know about each other.”

Chris looks at her strangely, and while under normal circumstances Riza would dig into that, she’s too overwhelmed to do so at the moment.

“But you and Roy are involved in more than work,” Chris points out.

“It’s complicated.”

Chris scoffs, “People always use that as an excuse to ignore what’s really at the heart of an issue.”

“Well, I’m perfectly fine ignoring it for now.”

“But you’re not ignoring the boy,” Chris grumbles.

“I… Chris,” Riza groans.

“Is the sex at least good?”

“Chris!” Riza gasps.

“Is it?”

Riza balks at her, red up to the tips of her ears. “That’s your nephew! Why would you…”

The fact that Chris owns a brothel is suddenly putting many pieces of the puzzle into place.

“Look, I just need to know he’s treating his ladies right. He doesn’t sleep with any of the girls and I want to make sure he’s not a pig.”

Riza is a bit relieved that he doesn’t sleep with the girls… then she remembers he told her that the first night they-

“Well?”

“He’s the best I’ve ever had,” Riza admits through her embarrassment.

“Because there’s feelings there too, right?” Riza doesn’t answer and Chris waits for a long while before speaking. “You can do better.”

Riza’s jaw drops. “That’s your nephew!”

Chris laughs, “He’d agree with me, you’re the best he’ll ever do but you Miss Riza could do eons better than him.”

Riza folds her arms. “I just… I don’t know.”

“So why aren’t you dating then?”

“Besides the fact that we technically work together? We are going to help each other achieve our dreams. A relationship would muddy the waters at best, at worst we’d never be taken seriously.”

“You mean you’d never be taken seriously.”

“… right.”

Chris pats her head. “Run while you still can.”

“I… what if I don’t want to?” Riza asks gently.

“I’m not the one to be asking about love, I never had the stomach for it,” Chris sighs. “Best I can offer is reminding you to be safe, be smart, and don’t do anything you’ll regret.”

“Might be too late for that,” Riza grumbles.

“Please tell me you used protection.” Riza gives her a look and Chris smirks. “I am not ready to be a great aunt. I don’t care if your mama wants grandbabies.”

“She doesn’t want grandbabies, she wants a son-in-law… And you can’t tell her any of this.”

“I’ll tell her I talked you out of a bad choice. I just hope you’ll make the most of that, maybe make it true.”

“You really think I shouldn’t be with Roy?”

“Not if you’re going to hide it. Not if you don’t want it to go anywhere, that’s just going to amount to a hell of a lot of heartbreak for both of you.”

Riza folds her arms and drops her gaze.

“Look, honey, you’re a beautiful girl. You’re successful and talented and you could have any man you want. You’re a smart girl, I don’t want you to be stupid over a boy. Regardless of him being my kid.”

“It’s not… he’s different from anyone I’ve ever met.”

“Has he told you about Ishval yet?”

Riza shakes her head.

“Then don’t fall in too deep, not until you know everything.” Chris’ cigarette is finally finished and as she stamps it out Riza finds she doesn’t feel any better. “Shall we?”

Riza follows her back upstairs for dinner. The roast tastes like nothing, maybe that’s from the scent of nicotine still in her nostrils or maybe it’s the look her mother wears after she and Chris have a side conversation.

Her mother hugs her tight and reminds her that Chandler is very much still an option. Riza would laugh if she wasn’t still reeling from everything. She stays the night, still distracted and her mind wandering all over the place.

Honestly, she’s still distracted at work until she’s finally jarred out of it:

“Hey Riza,” Rebecca knocks on the door. “There’s a woman on the line for you, Miss Koran?”

Riza stalls. “Put her through.”

Riza steels herself as she answers the phone. “Miss Koran, good to hear from you.”

It’s quiet for a long moment. “Miss Hawkeye… would it… be… would it be possible to get in contact with that lawyer you mentioned?”

“Of course,” Riza nods. “Do you have a pen and paper on you?”

“I was… I was actually wondering if we could talk again. In person?”

There’s a moment where Riza is genuinely a little afraid for this woman.

“Let me talk to my boss… is there a number I can call you on?”

“I’d prefer if you didn’t,” she admits meekly. “Can I call this number tomorrow?”

“Yes, of course. I’ll leave my schedule with my secretary so even if I’m not available to speak directly she can hammer out the details with you.”

“I appreciate this.”

“Of course, please feel free to reach out.”

The line goes quiet and Riza quickly hurries off to hopefully quickly shift her schedule around. Luckily the cases she has going to court the days she’ll take off have other attorneys on them who can handle the workload.

She quickly tells Rebecca she’ll be out of office for a few days and she starts packing that very night. She takes a half day the following day and is able coordinate a time to meet with Penny.

Before she knows it, she’s having a private meeting with a desperate woman. A woman who needs a place to go, a woman who needs more help than Riza’s capable of providing. A woman who has more than just gossip in her possession.

Riza does her best, she gives Penny the name of the attorney who can help and hopes for the best. She wishes she could do more, offer her more services. She hates that there simply isn’t anything else she can do.

Mr. Frank has asked her to return to Eastern HQ the following day to conduct another few depositions, and of course, to cover her tracks.

As she’s checking in with the receptionist about one of her appointments, she hears a voice that makes her jump:

“Miss Hawkeye? The hell are you doing here?”

She grabs onto her rapidly beating heart. “Lieutenant Colonel, you startled me.”

Hughes gives her a discerning look behind his smile. “Sorry. Kinda shocked to see you here, is all.”

“I thought I left you in Central, don’t tell me you have problems for me to clean up,” she attempts to tease.

“No way, I’m more curious about what you’re doing here? Are you meeting someone specific?” He waggles his brows at her.

She gives an airy laugh, “You’re not the only one who gives me cases, Hughes. I have plenty of headaches divorced from you.”

“Ouch,” he groans facetiously. “We should do lunch, us out of towners have to stick together.”

“If I get a lunch,” she sighs wearily.

“Miss Hawkeye, is it?”

Riza turns to face a man with the decorations of a General but the scowl of a toddler.

“It is, and you are?”

“Major General Hakuro, and I need to speak with you.”

“Regarding?” Riza asks folding her arms.

“Where do you get off thinking you can ask me that?” he snips.

“It’s an honest question, sir.” She narrows her gaze at him.

“I know you’ve been talking to my secretary. Don’t pretend that you aren’t sticking your nose somewhere it shouldn’t be,” he sneers at her.

“All due respect, sir, I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Like hell you don’t, you don’t have any right to speak with anyone in this command center.”

“On the contrary, I have the right to speak to whomever I please. Regardless of where they work. And I will remind you that every conversation that I have while on the clock is privy to certain protections. Unless, of course, those conversations happen in the presence of others.” She flicks her gaze to the receptionist who is clearly pretending not to listen in on their spat.

“We work with highly confidential information here.”

“As do I, sir.”

“Which means you are more than aware that speaking to any unauthorized personnel is grounds for expulsion or imprisonment.”

“Unless, of course, that person is a legal representative,” Riza snaps back. “Let me be very clear, sir, you are not inherently authorized to know the ins and outs of anyone’s communications with legal professionals. You are not authorized to know who I am here to speak to today and you are under no circumstances privy to any information that is disclosed to me. That is above your pay grade. And even if it wasn’t, so much as asking about what I am doing here is a violation of a plethora of legal statutes that would have your ass out of a job. So for your sake, I’m going to assume you’re just misguided and not deliberately breaking the law.”

Hakuro’s brow twitches but before he can say anything a different man intervenes.

“Move along Hakuro, don’t be causing a scene in my Command Center.” Hakuro stiffly salutes the man that’s still standing at the entrance of the building.

Hakuro grinds his teeth as he flicks his gaze back to Riza.

She speaks up to rub salt in the wound, “I’ll also remind you that disciplinary action of any kind against an employee for cooperating with an investigation is highly illegal. Considering you seem to need the refresher.”

Hakuro stalks away as Riza lets out a tense breath. She looks at Hughes who is still saluting as an old man with thick glasses approaches them.

“Abigail?” He asks in a thin breathless whisper.

Riza straightens her back as she takes in that odd introduction. “Sir?”

“General Grumman, might I introduce you to Miss Riza Hawkeye? She’s an attorney out of Central,” Hughes intervenes in the ensuing silence.

“She… Hawkeye?” He asks before shaking himself out of his stupor. “My apologies, dear, I mistook you for someone else. A pleasure to meet you.”

The man, General Grumman, brightens significantly. A big smile and bright eyes as he cheerfully holds out his hand.

“You as well, sir.”

“I… forgive me, you said you’re an attorney from Central?” he asks.

“That’s correct, I’m just here to conduct a few interviews,” she says with a small smile.

“Wonderful, well, don’t mind Hakuro, he’s just a bit cranky after some field work. Generals tend to get a bit rusty being cooped up in this place for so long,” he laughs.

“It was no trouble, sir.” Riza nods to him and another awkward silence slips between them.

“Well, I should get going. Miss Hawkeye, if you have any more trouble please do not hesitate to reach out.”

Grumman walks away leaving Riza and Maes standing in a bit of a state.

“That was… weird,” Hughes sighs.

“I’ll say,” Riza drops her gaze to the ground. Then she turns to Hughes and lowers her voice. “Could you do me a favor?”

“What sort?” he asks.

“Look into that man for me, Grumman was it?”

“What about him? He’s just kind of a weird, pervy old man,” Hughes says even quieter than Riza as they slowly walk towards the stairwell.

“This stays between us,” Riza says.

“Don’t tell me you’re here about him and Hakuro.”

“I’m not,” Riza shakes her head. “It’s just… Abigail… that’s my mother’s name.”

Hughes stalls at that.

“Could you look into that for me? Figure out if he knows her and how?”

Hughes nods. “You got it.”

Riza doesn’t want to go to her depositions, she doesn’t want to be in this command center a second longer. She wants to get out of here and maybe dash over to the library.

Who the hell is this Grumman guy? And how does he know her mother? Why are things getting messier by the minute instead of clearer?

Is there anything she can do that is simply straight forward? Can’t anything go right for once?

Chapter Text

Riza can’t keep her mind from reeling in the days and weeks it takes for Hughes to get back to her on his findings. Certainly, her own calendar is booked and she’s got plenty on her plate to keep her occupied. But her mind continues to wander through everything she’s learned.

“Hello? Anybody home?”

She snaps her gaze up to see Roy hovering above her, shirtless and smirking at her.

“Sorry, what?”

“I know it’s been a while since we’ve done this, but I am a bit surprised to see you so out of your head. What’s up?”

She sits up in her bed, the blankets pooling in her lap as she sighs.

“Don’t be mad.”

He snorts, “Sure.”

She worries her lip before smiling softly at him, “Your Aunt is nice.”

He pauses, his gaze narrowed at her, “My Aunt?”

“Chris has actually been in my life for a very long time,” Riza says gently, adjusting the strap of her tank top.

“Chris?” he asks. Either he doesn’t understand or his brain can’t reconcile this information.

She nods, “Yes, Roy, your Aunt Chris who owns Madam Christmas’ bar. The woman who raised you.”

“You know about that? You know her?”

“I do,” Riza says, putting a hand on his thigh. “I recognized her number on that card you gave me when we first met. I only noticed that I knew that number a few weeks ago and… well we talked about you.”

Finally, his face takes on another expression divorced from bewilderment; he laughs as he cringes, a hand flying up to cover his eyes.

“Oh no.”

“She’s a very tough love kind of woman, I gather,” Riza chuckles.

“Whatever she said, I’m so sorry.”

“Nothing to apologize for, really.”

“She’s… a trip,” Roy chances a glance at her and Riza offers a warm smile.

“She is… and now she knows I’m Elizabeth,” Riza pokes his ribs.

He laughs as he grabs her wrist. “Can I ask why you talked to her?”

“To figure out how you know her.” Riza slips closer to his side.

“Ah, the classic ‘I know what I’m doing here, what are you doing here.’ I’ve seen it a million times,” Roy snickers.

“I take it she hasn’t told you we met.”

“To be honest, we don’t talk much these days. It’s… too dangerous, I don’t want her business getting too wrapped up in everything.”

“But she is involved,” Riza states casually. She leans back on her hands and sighs, “We’re all involved one way or another. Some of us are just… closer to the fire.”

Roy gives her a smoldering look before he leans in for a kiss. It’s a long lingering kiss that has Riza panting against his lips as he pulls away.

“I should go,” he says.

She wants to tell him to stay, she wants to instruct him not to leave. She wishes she could convince herself that’s an entirely normal response. She can’t beg him to stay and she’s not the kind of woman who begs a man for anything. Yet here she is, not wanting to lose his presence, not wanting to lose his warmth.

She likes Roy Mustang, she feels safe with him… And somehow that’s worse than the fact that they have sex.

“You… can I…” Riza swallows to give herself more time to think of a reason to keep him longer.

“Can I?”

“Do you know General Grumman?” Riza settles on asking.

“Grumman? He’s my superior officer… Wait, what about him? Don’t tell me he’s in legal trouble.” Roy suddenly seems worried, so Riza takes his hand and squeezes it.

“No, nothing like that. It’s just that… well, I had a strange encounter with him last time I was in East City.”

Roy grimaces. “I’m so sorry if he touched you anywhere-”

“What!? No! No! What?” Riza shakes her head. “Does he do that?”

“He’s got a reputation that’s not exactly uh… unearned,” Roy winces.

“He didn’t touch me,” Riza sighs.

“Oh, good,” Roy sighs too, clearly relieved.

“No, he… he called me by my mother’s name,” Riza says. “He seemed so confused until Hughes corrected him. And I just… I thought it was a crazy coincidence, so I asked Hughes to look into him for me… but it’s been a bit since he’s gotten back to me about it. I’ve been kind of… my mind’s been occupied by it.”

Roy nods. “That is odd. I can give Hughes a nudge about it if you want.”

Riza shakes her head, “No, that’s okay. He’s got a one-year-old, I’m sure he’s busy.”

“One year two months and five days. I get daily updates,” Roy groans.

“Cute of you to remember though, better than me,” Riza teases.

“Nobody’s better than you,” he bumps her shoulder.

“Flatterer.”

Roy kisses her again. “I could look into Grumman for you if Hughes doesn’t get to it.”

“I’m actually thinking of calling you in as reinforcements if I decide I need to talk to him.”

“That I can most definitely oblige,” Roy nods.

They sit in silence again, knowing that Roy should go but neither of them wanting to admit it.

Riza clears her throat. “I’d hate to ruin the moment.”

“Right, I should get going.”

“That… wasn’t what I was going to say,” she admits. “I was going to say I should tell you to go but I don’t want to. I was going to say we could come up with an excuse for you to stay; like talking about cases or how you want to bring down Hakuro but then… then we’d be talking about work.”

He pauses. “And you… you don’t want to talk about work. Do you?”

She shakes her head. “I… I want to ask what it was like, being raised by Chris. I want to know what your childhood was like and what your favorite memories of school are. I want to ask about your sisters and the reason you decided to join the military.”

“You…” Roy’s expression melts into fondness. “You could ask me those things.”

“It wouldn’t be fair for me to do that,” she says gently.

“Wouldn’t it? We’re associates sure but… we have those feelings we share too,” he says.

“The ones we talk around but never name?” Riza tucks a strand of hair behind her ear.

“Those, yeah,” he shifts to lay on the bed. “We can and should tend to those feelings. I like living in them every now and then.”

She lays beside him and ties up their fingers. “So… what was it like being raised by Chris?”

“Oh she’s a real piece of work,” he laughs. “She was so great taking me in, you know? When my parents passed, I was immediately placed in an orphanage. I spent three days there before Chris found me. I remember… I remember she yelled until she was blue in the face because the MPs didn’t even bother trying to find her. That was… the only time I’ve ever seen her cry.”

Riza kisses the back of his hand and watches his side profile. His features are wistful, nearly serene as he draws up the memory like fresh water from a well.

“She held me so tight and told me that no one was going to keep us apart ever again. Though she was very firm that I wasn’t allowed to call her ‘mama’… definitely forgot that a few times as a kid. But she never let me forget my parents, every year on their birthdays she took me to their graves and let me talk at them as long as I wanted to. I really couldn’t have asked for better.”

“Look at us, two people raised by single mothers,” Riza chuckles.

“You said your father passed when you were born?”

“A little after I think. Mom never talked about him much, I think his passing really left her heart broken,” Riza sighs.

“She must have loved him a lot.”

“You know, I’ve never been sure. I think she did, but we never talk about him so it’s hard to say for certain.”

Roy hums at that. “Do you miss him at all?”

“Never,” Riza says softly. “Sometimes I feel bad about that, but I never really… I didn’t think it was strange, lots of kids lose their parents young in this world. But I don’t even know what his name was, we have no pictures of him… it’s hard to miss someone who never existed. My mom was more than enough for me, you know?”

“I know what you mean. Sometimes I wished that my parents were still around, but to be honest I never knew them. I have vague memories of them and of course I wish they were around. I just kind of accepted that they were gone and I’ve never really gone back on that.”

Riza nods. “I understand.”

Roy smiles at her. “I never get to talk about this kind of stuff. Chris’ work keeps her in the shadows for the most part. Not even Hughes knows her… and he comes from such a loving family I don’t think he’d get it.”

“You come from a loving family too,” Riza insists. “Chris was hard on you but it’s clear she adores you.”

“Out of morbid curiosity, what did she tell you?”

Riza chuckles, “She said I could do better.”

He gives a weary sigh, “Of course she did.”

“I disagree,” Riza curls into his side.

“So she knows? About this?” He kisses the top of her head.

“She does, she could see through anyone I swear,” Riza chuckles.

“I’m going to get an earful when I finally show my face back there,” Roy sighs.

“Sorry,”

“It’s okay… it’s kinda… nice, that you know.”

Riza kisses him again and their kisses morph into her straddling his torso. Roy is gone when she wakes up; there’s coffee waiting for her on the counter and Riza can’t help but smile at it.

She’s out of it that day for a different reason; Grumman’s name doesn’t even cross her mind. She’s too busy thinking about talking to Roy well into the night. She hates that she’s never felt this way before, she hates that she wants him in her bed again. She hates that she doesn’t want him to leave her bed.

Hughes bursts into her office a few days later, looking a little haggard and a bit out of breath.

“Uh… hello Lieutenant Colonel… are you okay?” Riza asks wearily.

“I have news!” he says, plopping down across from her.

“Your daughter’s sleep regression isn’t over yet, I see,” Riza snorts. She rises from her desk and goes to the very much still-open door. “Miss Catalina, can you please go get me and the Lieutenant Colonel some coffee.”

“On it.” Rebecca grabs the money from Riza’s hand and slips out of the office.

“So, your news?” Riza asks as she shuts the door. Only to find her desk is filled with baby photos.

“You reminded me I haven’t given you an update on my precious Elicia!” Hughes says.

Riza sighs wearily, “I can indulge you after my three o’clock hearing. For now, your news?”

“Ugh, fine, but I’m going to drag your ass back to my place so you can see her in person if you’re going to make me wait!” Hughes gathers the photos and delicately shoves them back into an overstuffed pocket album.

“Hopefully your wife doesn’t kill me, or maybe I should hope she does. Just hide my body well,” Riza snickers.

“Uh, so… here’s the thing, I’m not sure how exactly to tell you this.” Hughes folds his arms. “But I guess we can start with… what do you know about your family?”

Riza reels back a bit in her chair. “My family?”

“Yeah, you know; siblings, aunts, uncles, family,” he reiterates.

“It’s just been me and my mom. My whole life it’s been the two of us. My dad died after I was born so I never met him or any of his side of the family. My mom’s parents are dead and she didn’t have any siblings. Why are you asking?”

Hughes purses his lips. “So… I was looking into your mom, just to see if there’d be a reason to put her in East City. And uh… it seems like she was raised there.”

That does not surprise Riza in the least. Her mother has never wanted her to go to East City and now that makes some sense. She ran away when she was young, so she must have truly hated it there.

“Okay and she… what? Worked for Grumman?” Riza asks.

“I… I think that… I think that Grumman was her maiden name.”

That gives Riza pause. “Come again?”

“I looked into records from all over Amestris trying to find a link between her and Grumman… and an Abigail Grumman married a Berthold Hawkeye twenty-seven years ago.”

Riza continues to stare blankly at Hughes, who clearly feels a little uncomfortable with what he’s discovered.

“General Grumman had one daughter with his late wife. A daughter named Abigail,” Hughes says gently.

Riza gathers herself a bit. “Well… did it… say anything else? Any charges or-or…”

A reason, she’s asking for a reason that her mother might keep the existence of Riza’s grandfather a secret. A reason Hughes doesn’t seem to have as he shakes his head.

“I couldn’t find anything in the public record. She graduated from secondary school at sixteen, fell off the face of the earth for a few years, and then married. That’s all there is.”

Riza sighs, a hand running through her hair. “But that’s… there has to be some reason that she didn’t…”

“It seems like he didn’t know about you either. If that helps.”

It doesn’t, but Riza doesn’t say that. “I… what do you think of Grumman? Your personal opinion?”

Hughes shrugs. “To be honest, I don’t know him at all. I know the rumor is he likes to have female secretaries but that’s across the board for most upper brass. I know that he’s been very supportive of Roy, but other than that I don’t know, Riza. I’m sorry.”

Riza cups her face. “God…”

“If there’s anything else I can do for you, let me know. Sorry if I ruined your day.”

“No, you didn’t do anything,” she insists. “Can you… give me the details again. I want to… I want to really dive into this.”

Hughes relays everything he’s discovered about her mother and Grumman; and the fact that they are likely related… Riza takes a breath.

“What are the chances Grumman has looked into me?”

“I’d say high,” Hughes sighs. “Honestly, I’d be shocked if he hasn’t looked into you.”

“Great,” Riza sighs as the door opens. Rebecca hands out their coffees and Riza scurries off to court.

Before she can think too hard about this whole situation, she ends up calling Roy that night. She explains everything to him and takes his shocked silence as a good sign that Grumman hasn’t pulled Roy into all of this.

“Could you do me a favor, Roy?” she asks.

“You don’t need to ask; do you want me to tell him it’s you?”

“If you don’t mind tying yourself to me in his eyes. I’d appreciate it… maybe ask if we can meet?”

“I have a longstanding meeting with him every second Monday of the month. I’ll talk to him then.”

“Thank you, I appreciate it,” Riza sighs. “I’m sure he’s already looking into me too.”

“And you’re sure you want to talk to him?”

“I want to be sure we’re related before I confront my mom about it,” Riza says resolutely.

“Does Hughes know you want to do this?”

“No, should he?”

“I guess not.”

“Just your instinct to tell him, huh?” Riza manages to tease him.

“Guess so,” he chuckles. “You two are the first people I tell anything to, so I guess I just forgot for a second.”

Riza pauses. “That’s sweet, that you tell Hughes all of your secret plans.”

“Aw, thanks, I’m blushing.” He snickers on the other end of the line; she can’t tell if he’s seriously blushing or not.

“And me, of course, but I knew that… now I’m blushing.”

“Wish I could see it,” he says.

Riza pauses again. “Wish you were here…”

“I could-”

“I’ll be there before you know it. Don’t uh-… don’t go out of your way.”

He clears his throat. “Right.”

“Anyway, thanks for taking my call.”

“Anytime.”

It’s quiet for a moment too long before she hangs up the phone. Her heartbeat is loud in her ears, and her cheeks are hot as she cups her own face.

“Stupid… do not be stupid about this, Riza,” she grumbles as she gets back to making herself dinner.

Only things get worse because she promised Hughes she’d visit Elicia this weekend. So of course, when she shows up with gifts for the baby and the parents, Roy is the one to open the door.

“You’re kidding,” Riza snorts.

“I feel like this was a set up,” Roy groans.

“Oh well look who it is!” Hughes beams at her.

“You are playing dirty tricks again.” Riza shoves the gifts into his hands instead of letting him hug her.

“I don’t know what you mean. This is a perfectly reasonable request for everyone to bask in the adorable baby my perfect wife made!”

Riza groans but gets in a good amount of baby cuddles as the four of them talk about office drama. Gracia cooks a veritable feast, and it all feels so… normal.

Which she’s certain Maes did on purpose because he’s a tricksy little mastermind. He’s tempting her (and more realistically Roy) with the idea of double dates and playing with babies. Riza, however, knows his machinations are leading nowhere.

She and Roy are in perfect agreement about their arrangement and it’s ideal. He lives in East City while she lives in Central. They do good, covert work and occasionally – when time allows – they sleep together. They have feelings, sure, but neither of them have any plans to act upon them.

They leave the Hughes residence at separate times but Roy winds up in her bed. His fingers thread into her hair as he trails kisses down her neck.

“Grumman says he’ll meet whenever you’re ready. I just have to give him a call and he’s willing to drop everything to talk to you.”

Riza’s gut seizes as she processes that. “What did you… what did you get off of him?”

“Honestly?” Roy asks and she hums her confirmation. “He seemed… elated. Genuinely truly elated and hopeful… I’ve never seen him like that before.”

Riza sinks further into the bed. She’s not sure what answer she was looking for… but that wasn’t it.

“Could he really be my grandfather, Roy?”

He sighs, his hand running along her shoulder. “I’m not sure. It’s… seeming like maybe he is.”

She turns to look at him. “Do you think… my mother must’ve kept me away for a reason, right?”

“I can’t answer that, Riza. I wish I could, but I can’t. Your mother’s reasons are her own and you’ll have to talk to her about them.” Roy brushes some hair off of her neck.

“I just… I have always gotten the sense that my mother’s life was difficult before me. I knew that in some ways it was but… the fact that my grandfather might be alive is…”

“It’s a lot to process.”

She nods, pressing her forehead into his chest. “Thank you for setting all of this up.”

“No problem.”

“I appreciate you holding me through it. Really, I know this isn’t part of the deal but I’m grateful.”

“I don’t get nothing out of this; I get more than my share.” He kisses her and she sighs into him.

“Can you call Grumman in the morning? I just… want to set it up.”

“Can do, captain,” he smiles at her.

For once, Roy stays until the morning. She steals his shirt as a sort of ruse to keep him with her longer, then she makes them breakfast. It’s a pathetic attempt, stupid, and most importantly childish.

But he stumbles out of the bedroom with a mess of hair and her heart squeezes with fondness as he flashes her a sleepy smile. His hands fall to her hips as she flips her second batch of pancakes.

“Smells good,” he says as he buries his face into the crook of her neck.

“Well, Sundays are my slow days. Usually, I get lunch with my mom… but I canceled on her this week.”

Roy hums against her skin, his hand running down to the hem of the shirt she’s wearing. “I don’t blame you.”

She presses her back into his chest, “What about you? Have anywhere to be?”

“I have a phone call I promised to make, then I’m all yours,” he tells her gently. “Speaking of, may I use your telephone, my lady?”

She snickers, mostly to cover up the nerves suddenly tingling in her toes. “Right over there.”

She watches Roy slump over to the phone, though she pretends to be occupied with finishing breakfast. Then she hears Roy adjust the phone as there’s an answer:

“Hi, this is Colonel Roy Mustang. I’m calling to speak with General Grumman about the avian case.” Roy glances up at Riza with a gentle smile.

“I’ll let him know.”

Riza seizes as she realizes the phone is on speaker; she’s not sure what to do with that.

“Mustang! I’m surprised to hear from you this early! And on a weekend no less!” Grumman’s laugh tightens something in Riza’s core as she turns off the burner.

“Well, I’m nothing if not a diligent subordinate, sir!” Roy’s laugh sounds so very unlike him but he’s still smiling at her. He’s still so reassuring that Riza can’t help but smile back. “Anyway, I was curious if you’d be interested in going over the particulars of this case in private. Perhaps sometime next week?”

Riza’s throat clenches as she tries to remind herself that she’s the one initiating this whole thing.

“Ohoohoo! Of course! When and where in particular?”

“I think Friday night if you can manage it,” Roy nods at her and Riza nods back.

“Of course! I’ll have dinner waiting for you and this expert of ours!”

The call ends and Riza offers Roy a plate of eggs, bacon, and pancakes.

“So, tell me everything you know about Grumman?”

“Bribery will get you very far, Miss Hawkeye.” He laughs as they take their seats at the breakfast nook.

Riza almost takes notes as Roy describes the ins and outs of working with Grumman. His front is that he’s a goofy, slightly perverse but generally harmless old man. Underneath the façade, he’s a quiet, calculating type who never misses an opportunity to get ahead. People who knew him before Roy’s time say he used to be more openly ambitious but mellowed out (or maybe lost his fire) after his daughter left and his wife passed.

There’s a moment where Riza feels deeply conflicted about all of this. She wants to believe that her mother kept Riza away from Grumman for a reason, but she can’t ask her outright. Her mother would surely coddle her and try every way she could to dissuade Riza from meeting him.

She gets a call from her mother after she and Roy have fallen into bed again. Riza answers with a bit of trepidation.

“Hello?”

“Hi, love bug,” her mother greets warmly. “I missed having our weekly lunch, though I’m glad your back home already.”

“I know mom, I’m sorry,” Riza sighs.

“Why don’t you come over for dinner, honey? I’m sure you’re tired and need your rest, but I’d feel better if I knew you had a good meal in you.”

“I’m really tired I-”

“I’ll come over to you then.”

“No!” Riza grimaces as she tries to placate her mother. “Look I’ve had a long week, and I’d just like to reset, okay?”

“I understand that, but you haven’t come to see me since-”

“I know mom, but I am a grown woman with a busy career. I can’t see you every week. I’m sorry, I’m doing my best.”

“They’re working you too hard,” her mother admonishes. “Why don’t you take some time off?”

Riza bites back a sigh, “Maybe soon, I’ll let you know.”

“I still want you to come over,” her mother pushes.

“I’ll consider it, I’m also considering a nap, so I’d appreciate it if you didn’t call back.”

Her mother chuckles, “Don’t ruin your sleep schedule.”

“You just told me to rest.”

It’s quiet for a moment. “I love you, stubborn girl.”

“Love you too.”

Riza hangs up and deflates as Roy lets out a laugh.

“Nice save,” he snickers behind a loose fist.

Riza huffs as Roy finishes gathering his things to leave. She says nothing as she sees him out, as sad as she is to see him go she knows it’s for the best. She’s especially relieved he’s gone because her mother, in a completely unsurprising turn of events, shows up unannounced with a zucchini bake.

Riza sighs as she allows her into the apartment. Her mother chats idly as she bustles about trying to clean Riza’s apartment for her. She’s just transitioning from cleaning the counters to checking to see if Riza made her bed when Riza snaps.

“Ma,” Riza says sharply. “What are you doing?”

“Well, I just want to help, dear-”

“No, I mean what are you doing? Why are you cooking and cleaning and acting like nothing is wrong? What happened?”

Her mother folds her arms. “You sounded upset, Riza. I know when my baby isn’t acting like herself. I also know there’s a lot you don’t tell me about and I just want you to know that you can always come to me.”

Her mother cups Riza’s face and Riza really thinks about that. Can she go to her mother? Did this woman keep her isolated from her grandfather for a good reason? What else has she lied about?

Riza grabs her mother’s wrists and removes her hands from her face. “Work’s been stressful, I’m fine.”

“I really want you to take time off, baby, all of this stress isn’t good for you,” she insists as she laces her fingers with Riza’s.

“I’ll look at my calendar,” Riza says limply.

“Do that, maybe we can do a mother-daughter trip.”

Riza rolls her eyes and offers a small smirk to that, “Your bedtime is soon.”

Her mother chuckles, tells her to be sure she eats enough, and then she’s gone. Riza feels… maybe dirty isn’t the right word, but wrong most certainly is. She’s always had conflicting feelings about her mother; between feeling intensely smothered but loved so fiercely she never worried about having someone to go to. But now she feels lonely, she feels bad for lying to her mother but what choice does she have?

She tries not to think about it as she steps off the train in East City that Friday evening. She’s dressed perhaps a little too nicely; it’s not exactly the kind of event one can go to a boutique and find a section for. Although perhaps there’s a market for people having a reunion with their long-lost family… perhaps if this lawyer/member of parliament thing doesn’t work out she has a new calling lined up.

“Evening, madam.”

Riza whirls around to see none other than Roy Mustang holding out a bouquet of roses.

“Co-”

He holds up a finger to his lips, “I’m pretty incognito right now, best not spoil it.”

She rakes her gaze along his figure. His black trench coat is tied around his waist, and he is wearing a hat that spills his hair over his eyes.

“Is that what we’re calling it?”

He chuckles, “I’m your driver for the evening.”

“Absolutely not,” she balks at him.

“I’m under orders, I’m afraid,” Roy says. “Besides, even if you hail a taxi, how will you get there without the address?”

She glares at him but follows him to his car regardless. It does seem like no one is paying attention to them; it’s not like Riza’s particularly well known. Still, it makes her itch. Sure, they’re involved much more deeply and over the past nearly two years they have been seen together in public… but they can’t be too careful.

Grumman’s house is much more worthy of a title like ‘manor’ or ‘estate’. There are grounds and a valet waiting to drive Mustang’s car to the back. Riza is suddenly feeling like she has dressed appropriately…

She clings to Roy as the butler lets them in. The house is just as big inside as it was outside; it’s some place that screams ‘old money’ and it makes Riza wonder if maybe she’s been mistaken this whole time.

Then Grumman appears, and he’s absolutely beaming at her.

“Sir, if you don’t mind, I think I’ll take advantage of your library,” Roy says.

“Of course, my boy, please feel free to take as long as you like. I can even have your plate sent up to you.”

“I’d appreciate that.” Roy turns and winks at Riza before heading out of the sitting room.

Riza looks at Grumman and finds she doesn’t know where to start.

“It’s… a pleasure to meet you more formally, sir,” Riza says after a few long moments of silence.

“I promise you, the pleasure is all mine, dear.” He adjusts his glasses. “Would you like to eat first, or would you care to walk with me for a bit?”

“I… could do either,” Riza says.

He holds out his arm and Riza takes it. “So, I hear you go by Riza, is that right?”

“That’s right,” she says. “My mother heard the name in Creta during her travels. Said it just… fit.”

“Your mother picked it?” he asks with a smile.

“She did,” Riza nods. “She and I are… have always been extremely close.”

“Considering she birthed her twin, I can’t say I’m surprised,” he chuckles.

“Everyone always says that,” she nods.

“But it sounds like you inherited my ambition,” he says.

“My father’s work ethic, apparently,” Riza says. “I never knew my father.”

“That’s a shame,” Grumman pats her hand. “So Abbie… your mother, raised you on her own?”

“I think we both know that, I’m sure you looked into me the same way I looked into you.”

He chuckles, “I’d like to hear it in your own words. If you please.”

“Yes, she raised me all on her own. She had help from friends and neighbors and all that. But it’s always been the two of us against the world.”

“And you’ve done well for yourself it seems.”

“Well, I’ve gotten myself into a mess of my own,” Riza chuckles.

He takes her to what she assumes is his office, and on the coffee table sits a photo album. Riza doesn’t hesitate to sit beside him and flip open each page.

It’s undeniable that her mother is the one filling each and every photograph. Her heart seizes with fondness and fury. Her mother looks so carefree in all of these pictures, she looks so happy.

“Do you know why she left?” Riza asks, her hand trailing down a photo of her mother going to some formal event. She’s absolutely radiant and Riza can’t fathom why she would leave this glamourous life.

“I do, though I’m afraid the reason makes me sound like a stupid old fool,” Grumman says with a pensive sigh. “Did she ever tell you anything about why she left?”

Riza shakes her head. “Just that she left when she was young to see the world.”

“And see the world she did,” Grumman gives her a small sad smile. “I was much more… heavy handed, in the ways that I was looking to seize power back then. I made the ill-advised decision to offer my daughter’s hand to further my influence.”

Riza watches his features as he tells the story. She looks for a lie, she looks for any indication that he’s trying to sugarcoat his part in this. But all she sees… she sees a man who’s hurt, a man full of regrets, and it makes her hurt as well.

“Abbie said she’d rather die than marry someone she didn’t love, and I told her to go if that was the case. So she did.” Grumman casts his gaze to the floor. “I know it was the done thing back then; hell, people are still marrying people they don’t know all for the sake of power. But I was wrong, I was wrong and I’ve never stopped regretting that ultimatum.”

Riza settles into the sofa a bit, trying to imagine her mother at sixteen years old being married off to a stranger. She tries to imagine the rage she must have felt. But she can’t, as privileged as that sounds; she can’t imagine what that must have been like.

She can’t help but feel like her mother would be proud of her for that.

“What about your wife? Did she try to stop her?”

Grumman laughs, “Abbie and her mother never got along. Honestly, the two of them were like cats and dogs; she was always more of my girl than her mother’s. I think that’s why the betrayal hurt so much when I told her to go. She expected her mother’s machinations, not mine.”

“You… you said that you wanted to further your influence,” Riza says softly. “What does that mean?”

“I think you can put those pieces together,” he says.

“You want to lead the country?” Riza can’t help but be taken aback.

“I want to fix as much of it as I can,” he says plainly. “Isn’t that what we all want?”

Riza feels a flush crawl up her neck. “You… you’re saying you know about my ambitions.”

“I have a theory,” he smirks. “Anyone hanging out with Mustang must want to do something big. I don’t know what your exact goal is, but my guess is being a part of his cabinet.”

“Parliament,” she whispers the word.

“Hm,” he muses on that. “Lofty goal.”

“Considering I don’t have a name behind me, yes,” Riza says with a smirk.

“You want to earn that spot, I can tell.”

“Course I do,” Riza nods.

“Good on you, I’ve heard nothing but good things about your work down at the courthouse. You’re doing good work.”

“I certainly think so.”

Grumman hesitates. “Is there any world where I factor into those goals of yours?”

“I-…” Riza hesitates too. “I hope so… I’d like to have more people in my corner… more family.”

He gives her the warmest, softest smile; one filled with relief and hope and joy. Riza feels her eyes water as she squeezes his hand.

“More family including Mustang?”

She jolts back in surprise. “I- don’t know what you mean!”

“Uh-huh, I thought he’s been seeming a bit odd. Now I see why,” he laughs.

“You’ve got it all wrong,” Riza insists. “We’re just working together; there is absolutely nothing between us.”

“I can call him in here to get his side of things,” Grumman threatens loosely.

“This isn’t about him,” Riza insists. “I am grateful to him for everything he’s done but we are associates, nothing more.”

“Don’t worry, dear, I’ll wear him down,” he teases.

“Stop,” she swats at him. “I’m wondering… have you tried at all to speak with my mother since her leaving?”

“I lost track of her fairly quickly. At first, I assumed she’d come back after a few months. Then months turned into years and I knew finding her would be nigh on impossible. I lost all hope of reconciling just after my wife passed. To be honest, I’m still not certain we’ll meet again. I won’t put you in the middle of that and I’m not about to show up in her life without warning.”

Riza is awed by that answer. All of her conflicting emotions coalesce into something tender and warm in her chest.

“She doesn’t know I’m here.”

He snorts, “I’m not surprised. She’s earned her anger, but she’s also never been one to let go of a grudge. My stubborn girl.”

“She calls me that sometimes,” Riza admits softly.

He grins at her, “How sweet.”

“I take it that it’s okay for us to… to do this? Have a relationship, I mean.”

“It would be an honor to, Riza.” He takes her hand and pats it gently.

“I’d like to, I think,” she says.

“You can call your Pop-Pop anytime.”

She snorts, “I’m not calling you that.”

“You’re right, Peepaw is much better.”

“No,” Riza deadpans. “I think the time for cutesy nicknames has passed.”

“I disagree, you missed out on a very important childhood marker and I’m giving it to you now!” he insists with a laugh.

Riza rolls her eyes. “I have one more question.”

“I’m surprised you don’t have one hundred.”

“I’m sure more will come.”

He grins, “Ask away.”

“You want to help Mustang, right?”

“He’s my protégé, dear, I want him to succeed me,” Grumman says. “I only have his best interest at heart.”

Riza believes him… maybe in spite of herself.

“And I want my grandbaby to be the first lady!”

She groans, “Don’t you start with that.”

“I take it your mother isn’t too fond of him?”

“She knows nothing about him- wait! And even if she did know about him there’s nothing to tell!”

“Oh, you have got it bad, dear.”

Grumman laughs and calls for dinner to be served. Riza, still blushing up to the tips of her ears, follows him towards the dining hall. Roy meets them and the three of them have a lovely meal. They all have such a nice rapport, and it feels like she’s bringing her boyfriend to meet her grandfather… only in a much more fucked up roundabout way.

Over her wine, Riza tries to imagine a world where her mother is sitting in Roy’s spot. Roy would, of course, be beside her, and Grumman would be at the head of the table. Riza imagines impossible worlds from time to time, and she knows that.

She isn’t sure her mother can or will reconcile with Grumman… but her heart longs for that image of a perfect family.

Chapter Text

Riza spends the rest of the weekend in East City. She spends time getting to know her grandfather, exploring the house her mother grew up in, and generally exploring the city. She learns that her grandfather is a wily old man with a heart of gold. She learns that her mother used to be quite the painter.

Most importantly, she learns that she and her grandfather get on like a house on fire. She beats him at chess twice, once with him letting her win and once with her own skill. They can go toe to toe in political conversations and they have the same wry sense of humor.

She makes the same trek to spend the next weekend with him and the one after that.

It’s easy for her to grow closer to him and a part of her hates that. She hates how easy it is for her to get along with him because it makes her wonder why the hell her mother kept her away from him all her life.

Sure, their argument wasn’t nothing. He kicked her out and told her to never come back, but he owns that so easily. He agrees that their separation is his fault, but Riza can’t fathom why her mother never reached out once Riza’s father died.

They needed the help, certainly; they shared a bed until Riza was nearly eight. In addition to needing someone to take care of Riza while her mother was at work, they could have had someone else looking out for them. Someone who cared for them, who loved them. Family.

Her mother has always worried about leaving Riza alone when she isolated them in the first place.

So Riza hasn’t spoken to her mother… which is, frankly, an insane feat. She’s petty enough to get herself a hotel room for nearly three weeks just to be damn sure her mother doesn’t force a conversation until Riza is good and ready.

The truth is, she’s angry; Riza is angry and bitter in a way she’s never felt before. She feels betrayed, she feels lied to, and more than anything she feels like she can’t trust her mother the way she used to.

She’s gearing up for opening statements in a case – a first degree murder case that she’s been prepping for over two years to take to trial – when she sees her mother powerwalking through the courthouse halls.

“Oh shit,” Riza grimaces.

“Miss Hawkeye?” Her co-council gives her a strange look.

“I need a minute,” Riza turns to face the beast herself.

“Riza, honey,” her mother’s voice is polite and furious. “I’m glad to see you’re still alive.”

“I’m sure you are,” Riza snips back.

“Oh we’re being petulant today? I have been worried sick about you!”

“Please keep your voice down,” Riza demands hotly.

“I will be as loud as I like considering it has been radio silence from you for the past month! You never answered your phone, you weren’t home-”

“I was preparing very intensely for one of the most important cases of my career and I do not appreciate you coming here to berate me for that,” Riza hisses as she pulls her mother into a less crowded hallway. “This is unacceptable.”

“Unacceptable my ass, Clarissa! You do not fall off the face of the Earth and leave me to worry about you like that! You know better,” she scolds.

“I am a grown adult woman and regardless of your feelings I have work to do, now kindly get out of my office or I will have you thrown out.” Riza goes to leave but her mother grabs her bicep.

“Clarissa-”

“I have work to do, and I imagine you do too.” Riza wrenches her arm free and storms back to her co-council.

Luckily, she can brand her rage as righteous indignation towards the defendant during her opening statement. Luckily, she doesn’t have to think too hard about questioning because her co-council has the first witness.

But she is still so full of rage that when court is dismissed for the day Riza runs to the hospital instead of back to her little office. She storms up to her mother’s office and catches her talking to a cluster of doctors – Knox included.

Her mother does a double take as Riza walks right up to her.

“Riza dear, give me fifteen minutes.” Her mother glares at her.

“What, you can interrupt my work day but when I do it we have a problem?” Riza bites back. The doctors and nurses scatter (though Riza notes they stay close enough to listen in). “How dare you come into the courthouse and yell at me like I’m a toddler?”

“Why do you always have such a problem with me looking out for you? Why do you get so upset when I try to take care of you?” Her mother starts leading Riza to her office, but something about her turning her back makes Riza furious.

“I met Grandpa,” she says with a catty edge to her tone.

Her mother freezes, then she turns around ever so slowly. “What?”

“I met Grandpa. You know – your father,” Riza says.

“You… you-”

“Yeah, you know, the man who’s been dead my whole life? That guy. Turns out he’s actually alive and we get along great,” Riza sneers at her mother. “I’ve been spending the past month getting to know my grandfather, does that bother you?”

“Clarissa, my office, now.” Her mother snaps her fingers and stomps over to her office.

Riza follows behind and folds her arms once her mother closes the door.

“Are you going to explain yourself?” Riza asks.

“Me!? You owe me an explanation, young lady,” her mother insists.

“Oh no, you’re the one who lied to me for my whole life! You’re the one who told me I had no other family but you!”

“That man is not my family,” her mother slams a hand on the table. “Family doesn’t abandon each other! How did he even find you!?”

“I found him!” Riza snaps back. “I’ve been working in East City-”

Her mother looks like she’s going to pass out at that. “You’ve been working in East City!? For how long!?”

“It doesn’t matter,” Riza insists. “What matters is that Grandpa and I found out about each other. And who gave you the right to keep his entire fucking existence from me!?”

“I am your mother, Riza, I did the right thing. That man is a selfish egotist and you are better off keeping a distance.”

“Don’t you get it!? This isn’t even about him, it’s about you lying to me my whole life!”

Her mother scoffs, “Oh, please, Clarissa, all parents lie to their children.”

“About Father Winter or the fucking tooth fairy, not their grandparents being alive!”

“Watch your tongue! Do not curse at me!”

“That’s what your worried about!?!” Riza balks at her. “You are unbelievable.”

“I spent your whole life trying to protect you and that includes keeping you from him. If you’re the daughter I raised, you will stay away from him.”

“He told me everything, you know,” Riza says. “He shoulders all of the blame, and I think he’s right to. But you had no right to keep all of this from me.”

“I did what I had to do,” she says lowly. “I specifically kept you away from him to protect you and I do not appreciate you making a mockery of that by throwing that back in my face. You need to stay away from him.”

“No,” Riza says petulantly. “No, he may have done wrong by you, but I enjoy our time together.”

“You would choose that man over your own mother?” she asks, placing a hand over her heart in a show of complete and total shock.

Riza grits her teeth, “I deserve to have a relationship with him. I am a grown adult woman I can make my own decisions. You can’t make these kinds of choices for me forever.”

“I raised you better than this.” Her mother shakes her head in complete and utter disappointment.

“You really just want me to forgive you for lying to me like that?” Riza can’t help but be completely taken aback.

“I did not lie-”

“Yes! Yes you did! You 100% lied to me about having any living family. You made me believe we were alone in this world and we’re not! He’s a mess and imperfect and I can see the cracks in where he’d let his ambition get the better of him; but he’s my grandfather and I deserve to make that call if I have a relationship with him or not. That was not your place!”

“Oh you’re right, I should have raised you to hate him is what I should have done.” Her mother throws up her hands in exasperation.

“You are just… So unbelievable! I can’t… I’m not dealing with this.” Riza goes to storm out but her mother stops her.

“Clarissa-”

“I don’t have anything else to say to you,” Riza says.

“You need to understand that man is going to use you too,” her mother says darkly. “He is going to use you and then he’s going to discard you.”

“Do you even hear yourself?” Riza can’t help but gawk at her mother. “He only ‘discarded’ you because you chose to walk away. And even if that’s true I’m going to have to figure that out on my own huh? Unless you’re saying you got that from him.”

It’s quiet for a minute, then her mother releases her hold on Riza’s arm. “I am always going to be here for you. You’re the one who’s choosing to walk away.”

“Don’t pin this on me,” Riza says, the offense in her tone pure and pronounced. “Don’t… don’t blame me for your mistakes, mom.”

“You wouldn’t be here without that mistake.”

“Something tells me neither would you,” Riza says bitterly.

“Clarissa, you need to stop talking to that man.”

“My case is scheduled to run for the next two months, don’t bother trying to get in contact with me.” Riza turns and storms out of the hospital.

Her eyes burn and her heart is beating in her throat. She should go back to the office, she should go prep herself for questioning, and she should drown in work instead of her emotional turmoil.

Instead, she closes herself up in the nearest phone booth and dials an all too familiar number.

“Colonel Roy Mustang’s office, Master Sergeant Fuery speaking.”

Riza bites down hard on her lip, “Hi… could you… could you tell the Colonel that I am… that Elizabeth is calling, please?”

“Yes, ma’am, please hold.”

Riza waits for a few moments, willing the tears to stay behind her eyes.

“Why hello, Elizabeth, it’s been a while since you called in the middle of the workday.”

“Well… maybe I missed you today,” Riza forces the words out.

His voice softens significantly, “Is that so?”

“Yes, I-” she clears her throat. “I’m just curious how you’re doing.”

“If you don’t mind me saying so, Elizabeth, it sounds like you could use some cheering up.”

Riza’s heart flutters at the insinuation. “I… suppose you’re right.”

“I can make the last train, bring you flowers and take you to dinner.”

“You probably shouldn’t… but thank you for the image. Maybe I’ll hold onto that,” Riza sighs. “I should go.”

“Wait-”

She doesn’t wait, she goes back to the office gathers her things, and plants herself on her living room sofa to pour herself into work. She’s very productive when she’s feeling low. A few months ago, she was at the height of productivity when the armistice in the West broke… good times.

Suddenly a knock at the door jolts her. Riza is gearing up for a fight when she sees it’s not her mother, but Roy Mustang waiting for her.

She slowly opens the door, adjusting her cardigan to cover up the stained tank top beneath.

“Special delivery from your neighborhood florist,” he says, holding out the bouquet.

“What’s this?” Riza asks, taking the flowers automatically.

“You needed a pick me up,” he says blithely.

“But… it’s a Tuesday, don’t you have work?”

He shrugs, “So I take the early train and get in a bit late, who cares?”

She snorts as she lets him in, “You. You should care, all things considered.”

“Taking care of my people is more important than pencil pushing, besides this helps my image. I was making too many waves anyway. People would start looking at me more if I suddenly had my shit together.”

“Roy-”

“Tell me what’s wrong, please?”

They order a few pizzas, Riza clears off the coffee table, and then she spews. She tells him every word of her and her mother’s argument. She tells him about the ambush at the courthouse and her strategic counterattack at the hospital. She nearly starts crying into her wine as she comes to the end of the story.

“And I just… can’t help but feel like I’m the bad guy. I feel guilty but I’m not wrong… right?”

Roy gives a pensive pause. “You’re not wrong, she hurt you and you’re allowed to be upset.”

Riza leans in a bit closer. “But?”

“But… you and your mom are obviously really close. I know this betrayal is tough but… look, it was definitely wrong of her to keep it a secret this long. But she made the right choice for her at the time that she made it, you know?”

“I know why she left but she didn’t have to keep it from me,” Riza says defensively.

“Right,” Roy agrees, though he pauses for a moment to think of what to say next. “You know how, in school, you spend hours learning about history and historical figures, then you grow up only to find out they were secretly the worst people imaginable? Or just weirdos with niche hobbies who happened to also found a city?”

Riza nods, “Sure… I guess.”

“Parents… relationships in general, are like that, right? You think you know everything and then one day you… wake up and you’re fighting a war you thought was justified. Only… only now they’re telling you to shoot civilians and you’re confused because they’re Amestrians too. And you just don’t understand how the hell we got here…”

“Yeah,” Riza says softly, rubbing his shoulder.

“Sorry, I-”

“No, you’re right,” Riza sighs. “When I first learned about the war… I thought… I thought that the Ishvalans must have done something to provoke it. We… we wouldn’t do something so horrible if they didn’t deserve it, right? And then my professor had us study the 1811 conflict. Have you heard of it?”

“The civil war, right?”

Riza nods, “No one knows why it started, all we know is that it was the most brutal conflict of our nation’s history. Violence every day and night, public executions, experimentation on prisoners of war… and then he revealed that we have no record of those things happening in 1811. But we do know those things happened in Ishval. That was the last lesson he taught, he disappeared and no one ever heard from him again.”

Roy looks away from her but Riza inches closer.

“We all have to wake up, Roy. Some people keep their eyes shut so tight to injustices in this world. What’s important is that we do wake up and that we try to fix it. Nothing is unfixable.”

Roy looks at her with reverence in his eyes. “Here I thought I was supposed to be comforting you.”

“You did,” she says softly.

He kisses her gently, tenderly, and when he pulls back she misses him intensely.

“I… you know that-”

“Can we… not talk anymore?” she asks softly. “Can we just do this? We’re both clearly feeling… raw and… I just want…”

“Come here pretty girl,” he pulls her closer and kisses her fiercely. “We can do whatever you want.”

He stays longer than he should; she wakes him up to be sure he catches his train and Riza wishes he were still here. She wishes she could have him while she wades through the mess of not having her mother.

Her case was estimated to take two months… it takes four and a half. They call every witness and every expert, until their witness list has only the defendant left on it. The defendant refuses to testify, which is fine by Riza.

They finally, finally get the case to the jury and Riza feels like she’s coming up for air as she and Rebecca have their first lunch out of the office in months.

“Thank god the sun is out, I was afraid my skin would turn translucent,” Rebecca chuckles as she skims over the menu.

“At least you didn’t have the same foot traffic you’re used to,” Riza laughs.

“Nor did I have any calls from your mother, it was weird. In a blissful way of course,” Rebecca laughs. Riza chokes a bit, which of course Rebecca notices. “Not that I hate your mom or anything!”

“No, you’re entitled to hate her if you like,” Riza forces a laugh.

“I’m just surprised she finally listened to you about your schedule is all.”

“She didn’t,” Riza admits. “We’re not on speaking terms right now.”

“Wait really!?” Rebecca gasps. “What-… I mean, I’m so sorry, that’s rough.”

“It’s her own damn fault,” Riza groans. “Did you… can you believe that she lied to me about my own grandfather’s existence?”

“She did what!?”

Riza regales the entire saga to Rebecca who eats it all up about as fast as she puts away the complimentary bread rolls.

“That bitch!” Rebecca gasps at the conclusion of the story. “If my mom pulled that shit I might not ever speak to her again.”

“That’s what I’m flirting with,” Riza groans. “Except…”

“Except?”

“She did that with my grandfather, right? Forfeited her entire relationship with him over one stupid mistake? Am I just… doing the same thing in a different font?”

Rebecca hums, “Well… maybe… but that’s still so fucked up.”

“Agreed… I just… I feel like I don’t owe her an apology, but I feel like she won’t apologize to me either. I feel… stuck.”

“That’s really hard,” Rebecca sighs. “It’s mature of you to not want to throw the whole relationship away though. Maybe you could call her? Try to meet her where she’s at?”

Riza sighs, “I think I’m going to call my grandpa and talk to him about it. I… I don’t really want to broker peace between them, but I want… I guess I don’t know what I want.”

“Be careful bringing him into this, considering this whole fight is about him,” Rebecca advises.

“Right… anyway, I’d love to not talk about me.”

“Are you sure?” Rebecca asks gently.

“I’m sure, fire away.”

“Boy do I have gossip for you! So you remember how Amy was cheating with Dylan?”

Riza lets herself get totally absorbed into the idle office gossip she’s missed. It’s been months since she’s had a proper sit down with Rebecca. Which means it’s been months since she and her mother have spoken.

Before this, the longest they’d gone without speaking was eleven days and her mother had been furious about it. Riza had been in the thick of finals week and had been pulling extra shifts with the volunteer center. Her mother had been so furious with her for it but had put her anger aside just to be sure Riza was okay.

Now they’re in the midst of this stalemate because her mother is sure she’s right and Riza is certain she’s wrong.

You know, the makings of a recipe for disaster.

It doesn’t help that while the jury continues to deliberate, Roy asks for some help on a case of his own. Riza is happy to oblige, of course, but it takes her to several offices and a party she’d rather die than attend.

It’s truly serendipity that when she hands off his information, Rebecca bursts into her office.

“Verdict is in!” Rebecca says frantically. “Judge Wilkes says you have ten minutes to get going.”

“Did you contact the victim’s family?” Riza asks, turning back to her desk to grab a few things.

“Yes ma’am, they’re on their way.” Rebecca scurries back towards the office proper as Roy pulls Riza’s attention.

“I suppose duty calls?” Mustang asks with a smirk.

Riza chuckles, “Court is open to the public.”

“Well, I’m not about to say no to an open invitation.”

Roy and Riza chat as they walk to the courtroom and then Riza is suddenly back in work mode. She’s a one woman show coordinating the victim’s family, the defendant’s arrival from the jailhouse, and getting every last damn document in order for the court reporter.

Riza almost misses the verdict being read; she’s been handling this case for so long and now it’s all coming to a head.

She hears the word “Guilty”, and her body relaxes into her seat. There’s a wail in the gallery that has someone being escorted away. Riza watches the members of the jury look between themselves nervously as the rest of the verdict is read.

“Is council ready to proceed with sentencing?”

Riza half stands from her seat. “Yes, your honor.”

“Your honor we object,” the defense argues.

“Grounds?” Judge Wilkes asks in return.

Riza hardly listens to their arguments as she shuffles through victim impact statements. The victim’s mother wrote a letter that she asked Riza to read, while the victim’s father and siblings want to speak.

“Miss Hawkeye, your arguments?” the judge prompts her.

“All sentencings take place immediately following a verdict, your honor, only special circumstances preclude that. This defendant has filed no such motions and should be treated the same as any other defendant,” she says nearly automatically.

“Alright, so defense I am going to overrule your objection but it will be noted for the record and preserved for appeal.”

“Thank you, your honor.”

“Miss Hawkeye, are your witnesses ready?”

“Yes, your honor.” Riza guides the first speaker to the podium. She’s too busy trying to be sure all of her witnesses are present and ready to speak to listen too closely. She hopes it doesn’t come across as her being cold or unfeeling towards their loss; but she knows the ins and outs of this case better than anyone. She’s spoken with these people more times than she can count. She knows their pain.

So as she takes the stand to read the statement from the victim’s mother she doesn’t expect her emotions to start getting the better of her.

“Judge Wilkes, I want to first thank you for your thoughtfulness and your consideration of our family during this horrendous time in our lives. The prosecution team told us that these victim impact statements are one of the few times that we – Analise’s loved ones – get to be heard as human beings. I have asked Miss Hawkeye to speak on my behalf because-… because my daughter would be her age if she were still with us.”

Riza swallows thickly at that and continues, “My daughter was a bright, beautiful, kindhearted girl who was in the prime of her life when she was taken from us. She was the beginning and end of my world, and now my world is gone. There will be no more birthdays, no more holidays, no more moments together; big or small. I’ll never see her smile, I’ll never hear her laugh, and I’ll never get to see the woman she would have become.

“The defendant took all of that from us. He brutally killed my daughter and left her body to rot. He didn’t just take my daughter from me; he took everything from me. He took the only thing in this world that mattered, and I will never be able to move on from this. The only thing I can hope for is that he received the maximum penalty. Death may be too good for the likes of him, but it is only the start of my journey towards healing from this profound and insurmountable grief.”

Riza sits down and tries not to let herself break down. The defendant is sentenced to the state sanctioned execution. Riza’s stomach hurts as she exits the courthouse that day.

She has the urge to go and see her mother but decides that she can hold off for one more day.

Instead, she invites Roy to her place and the two of them do as they have for the past few years. He comes by and she cooks, they fall into bed, and they talk.

Today, however, he looks at her with big, sad eyes as he cuddles in close.

“Do you ever feel bad about this?” he asks, his breath a warm puff against her neck.

“Sometimes,” she answers honestly.

“Do you ever wish we hadn’t started all of this?”

“No,” she breathes the answer, and he looks at her with a painful sort of fondness.

“I just… I know this is… all so…”

“Whatever it is, I know it’s not wrong,” she says quietly. “Not… not that way, anyhow.”

“Right,” he swallows. “Beyond the whole… ethical violations.”

“Technically there isn’t an ethical violation,” she says.

“You’re right,” he sighs.

“Do you ever regret this?”

“Regret’s not the right word,” he claims, kissing her exposed shoulder. “Guilty maybe, for bringing you into my shit.”

“I was in it before we met, and you know that,” she chides him.

“But I… you could be so much more than this by now.”

“You mean married or something?” she asks with a raised brow.

“That… and you’d still be on speaking terms with your mother.”

“You can’t claim that,” Riza tells him gently. “You can’t claim to be the reason I found out about Grumman. I wasn’t in East City to see you when we met, and I would have found a way without you. As for being married, I know myself. Marriage was… is… it’s scary.”

“Scary?” Roy asks.

“Yeah,” she sighs. “You know what I get up to at work. You know I’ve been under military protection before for my case work. Beyond that, I’m an anti-government radical who wants to upend the system. I can’t put anyone else into that line of fire. You know how it is in this country; one person gets burned and the ripple effect seems to reach even tertiary connections. I’d rather die than put a husband, or, god forbid, children in that position.”

Roy sits up, his shoulders shaking, and Riza’s ready to tell him to forget she said anything when she realizes he’s laughing.

“We really are a match made in heaven,” he teases.

“Don’t tell Hughes that, he’s still mad I didn’t go to your birthday party.”

“I’m still mad about that too,” he smirks.

“I could make it up to you.” Riza drapes herself over his shoulders.

“You do plenty for me, even in the midst of your biggest trial to date you went out of your way to help. I don’t deserve you, no matter how much I-”

Riza watches him flush but he doesn’t finish that thought. “I like helping you, I like being with you. That should count for something, right?”

Roy chuckles, “Yeah.”

“You don’t believe me?”

“I’ve done a lot of bad things, Riza,” he says, cupping his face and hiding away.

“We’ve all done bad things.”

“No, you don’t… you don’t get it.”

“Then help me understand,” she implores him.

“… What’s… what’s the worst crime you’ve prosecuted?” he asks, finally making eye contact again. His features are dark and icy as Riza ponders the question.

“My first year as a licensed attorney,” she says softly. “Serial killer case, fifteen murder charges, fifteen counts of desecration of a corpse… they… they found this little girl in pieces and I had to comb through the files… it was terrible.”

“What was the sentence?”

“State sanctioned execution,” she says.

“Have you ever prosecuted an illegal use of alchemy case?”

She shakes her head. “Those are pretty rare, all things considered. I helped with some research on one a few years back…”

“What kinds of sentences are those?”

“That really depends.”

“Humor me, say they illegally sourced resources for bio-alchemy research. What kind of sentence does that bring?”

Riza swallows thickly at that. “Life imprisonment… maybe state sanctioned execution.”

“What about for inhumane treatment? There’s surely a law or statute about that. What’s the sentence for that?”

“Why are you asking me about that?” she shies away from the question.

“Because I have done far worse things than that, Riza.” He says it with such a deep profound pain in his voice Riza’s world comes to a grinding halt. “I have killed thousands of people. I wielded my alchemy against defenseless people and then I was ordered to-… No, then I chose to experiment with my alchemy on living subjects. I learned the intricacies of burning a body, how make sure they lived through it, how to boil eyes in their sockets, and to melt skin down to the bone. If that’s not torture I don’t know what is.”

“Roy-”

“I’ve been wanting to ask you this for a long time,” he admits. “I didn’t want to scare you away and then I started… I got to close and I-”

“Roy,” she takes his hand and he looks at her with an intense expression she’s never seen him wear before.

“Once I become Fuhrer I plan to indict every single soldier who took part in the genocide of the Ishvalan people. I want you to be the one to prosecute us.”

Riza stops breathing altogether at that; she feels like the floor has opened up and suddenly she’s falling. This whole time, this whole ruse… no, it wasn’t a ruse, clearly he didn’t think they’d develop feelings for one another.

“You… you want me to-”

“I know you’ll be in parliament by then, but they’ll need a special prosecutor. Your specialty is in violent crime so… when Hughes told me about you-”

“Does Hughes know? About this plan?” She just barely refrains from calling it a stupid, horrible plan.

“I mentioned it once and he told me I’m an idiot.” Roy shakes his head. “But you know… You know better than anyone that justice needs to be served. You are so attentive to victims and their families. You volunteered with Ishvalan refugees. You know how to deal with murderers and violent criminals, and you know that I need to be held accountable for what I’ve done.”

“I… Roy, I-”

“I know it’s not fair of me to ask, but I know that deep down inside, you also know I’m right.”

Except she doesn’t know that, not really. She’s always been aware of Roy’s past, that he served in the war, that he has done unspeakable things. She knows he’s a killer, but she never would have guessed that this was his plan.

Why would he do this? Why would he uproot the government and try to change the world just to take himself out of it? What kind of self-flagellation bullshit is this?

“Please Riza, promise me you’ll do this.” Roy implores her with such deep sincerity Riza’s throat tightens up again.

Perhaps it’s out of selfishness, because she doesn’t want to be alone and she knows if she denies him he’ll leave. Maybe it’s because she’s at a loss for what she actually wants to say; the shock is too real and too raw for her to go over what an insane ask this is. Or maybe, somewhere deep in her chest she does know he’s right.

Regardless she nods mutely for a minute before whispering, “Okay.”

He looks so relieved his voice cracks as he utters a meek, “Thank you.”

“Come here,” she implores him.

He kisses her with a renewed sense of passion, a deep earnest kind of love that’s unrestrained in its intensity. Roy makes love to her like it’s the last thing he’ll ever do.

Riza wonders if someday her love will be the thing that condemns him to his execution. She hates that she knows now he would thank her for it.