Archive of Our Own ^beta

The Ishvalan War of Extermination began fifteen years ago. Ten years ago, in 1910, Fuhrer King Bradley pulled all non-alchemist soldiers from the front lines and brought them home. Home that was on the brink of rebellion, home that was far from the respective cities any of them had left behind. That was their job, to handle the unrest that was- and still is- threatening to topple the country. Soldiers pulled from one hell and believing they were on their way to salvation only to be dropped in something that would turn out to be just as bad. Central City was the main target of the citizen's frustrations. Because of this, a handful of soldiers were specially selected to transfer to, and defend Central Command.

Riza Hawkeye was one of those soldiers. The Hawk's Eye's job had ended but she still lingered in the back of Riza's mind as she resumed her role as Warrant Officer. She ran a tight ship. Jean Havoc, Heymans Breda, Vato Falman, and Kain Fuery stood at her side with the utmost pride, respect, and trust. They gave her everything she asked for and more.

Solf J. Kimblee was given the Fuhrer's permission to run wild on the battlefield. If it weren't for Major Mustang's weekly status reports and almost daily letters home, she'd have no way of knowing what was actually happening out there. There was a complete and total media blackout. Any news of the war, any talk of it outside the Command Centers was forbidden.

This only made the rebellion worse.

Despite the damage and bloodshed the alchemists were causing, the Ishvalan's were still surviving, resilient and persistent as ever- just as she remembered the desert sun- to save their homeland and their lives. Riza couldn't find it in herself to blame them. She'd do the same thing if anyone tried to attack Central, and someone- a lot of someone's were trying to attack Central.

Major Mustang insisted on sending letters as frequently as possible, claiming hat he needed to know she still had his back along with frequent demands to know about the state of the city. She knew he wasn't worried about the city. He'd grown to detest it, as had she, but the Major was far more vocal about it. Still, she appreciated the letters regardless of the false pretenses they were written under. Some days, the difference in the Major's tone was amusing, other days, it left a hole in her chest larger than her fist. It was jarring to see his writing go from cold, succinct, and professional, to soft, rambling, and dare she say, loving.

"You're thinking about him again, aren't you?" Second Lieutenant Havoc asked in a low voice as he walked up to her desk. He dropped a stack of papers on the bare surface and slid his hands into his pockets.

When looking at Riza's desk, you weren't be able to tell anything about the woman who sat behind it. There were no personal effects. No framed photos, knickknacks, or even a potted plant. (She'd tried once but the damned thing died after a week.) Perhaps she felt like she had nothing. The man she cared about was still on the same battlefield she'd followed him onto, and her city was in disarray.

"How can I not?" Riza mused as she turned her chair away from the window and the pouring rain. "He's useless when it rains..."

Remembering herself rather suddenly, she shook her head, cleared her throat, and picked up the papers. "Is this all the paperwork I asked for, Lieutenant?" she questioned as she thumbed through the pile and then eyed him over the top.

"Ah, geez..." he mumbled in turn, rubbing the back of his neck. "It's almost all the papers, Lieutenant Colonel... I'll finish them as soon as I get back from my smoke."

"You can finish them now, Lieutenant, and then you can go smoke."

"So cruel to your own brother! I can't believe you!" Havoc whined, his shoulders drooping. He cleared his throat and began backing away when Riza sent an icy glare his way. As if the man hadn't already made a mistake, he made another. One far worse. As he turned to go back to his desk, he muttered something about how Major Mustang would have let him smoke.

"If you'll remember, Second Lieutenant Havoc," Riza responded, her previously cold and lifeless eyes growing sharp and heated, arguably the most life to occupy them in years. "Major Mustang is fighting in a war and I was the only one around to pick up the pieces!"

She shut her mouth when her voice started to waiver and then took a deep breath, letting it out in a slow hiss as her fingers curled into her palms. Her jaw clenched as she counted to ten and then back down. Riza wasn't aware that her eyes had closed until she opened them again, her subordinates all acting like they hadn't been watching her.

"I expect that paperwork to be completed and on my desk by the time I get back," she said as she stood and slipped her coat on. In the back of her mind, she knew referring to it as her coat, even mentally, was a lie. It was too big in the shoulders and a few inches too long but it hardly seemed to matter to her. He was always with her this way, he had her back the same way she had his.

"Yes, ma'am."

As satisfied as she could be, she nodded and left the office, letting the heavy oak doors close behind her with a groan.

Riza trudged down the hall, giving voiceless greetings to the officers that walked past her. Her mind was reeling, years of pent-up anger rising to the surface. She'd worked so hard to stuff it down and forget about it, ignorant to the fact that one day it would return. Her brother and the rest of her men didn't deserve her anger. It wasn't their storm to weather.

She stopped when she reached the courtyard, the downpour washing away the tension and putting out the fire. She bit her lip to keep in from trembling; the dying embers were her last line of defense. Perhaps the anger was better. There was no way she'd survive the downpour.

The Hawk's Eye does not cry.

I'm not the Hawk's Eye! I'm Riza! Riza Hawkeye!

The Hawk's Eye does not cry!

She swallowed thickly and cleared her throat. Unable to tell where the tears stopped and the rain started, she wiped her face with her sleeve and then looked down when Hayate let out a whine. The dog was absolutely soaked, his black and white fur flat on his skin and dripping into the puddle at their feet.

"Hayate? What are you doing out here? You're soaking wet..." Her words were barely audible over the rain. Her water-logged companion was what made her register how heavy her uniform had grown on her shoulders and how the water soaked into her hair and sent a chill through her body. Riza scooped Hayate into her arms, not caring that she'd end up smelling like wet dog, and settled on a bench under the covered walkway.

"I'm a mess, Hayate," she admitted a she scratched behind his ear. She trailed off and clenched her jaw, stopping the sob building in her chest from escaping. Her hands trembled slightly as they slipped into the dogs fur, an almost pathetic attempt to ground herself and focus on anything but the Major. She was at work. Work was not the place to dwell on what she couldn't change. To her, though, home wasn't the place to do that either. Fifteen years of emotions were begging to get out, some climbing up her throat and making her choke and gag with how rancid they tasted.

Why did she do this to herself? Why did she insist on bottling everything up? There was no point to it, and she only ended up in situations like these; unstable and sobbing in the rain.

Don't feel it. Don't think it. Don't want it. Stop it! Stop it! STOP IT!

Her head tilted back on its own accord, her chin facing the sky as tears leaked from her eyes. Hayate whined again as Riza rubbed at her face, a string of curses leaving her as she struggled to pull herself together. The dog licked at her chin until she revealed her face to him. He immediately whined again and licked away the tears when she moved.

"Come on, Hayate... Let's go back inside."

Hayate let out a soft "woof" and jumped off Riza's lap, shaking out his coat before trotting toward the building. The dog paused every few seconds to make sure Riza was following. She was, but slower than normal. Her movements were no longer stiff and thought out, but now displayed just how numb she felt; her hands slack at her sides, shoulders dropped, and her feet barely lifting off the ground.

When she reached her office again, it was empty, something she couldn't find herself to be upset with right now. Havoc had left his stack of papers on her desk next to a small box tied closed with twine. She peeled off her soaked coat, hung it on the back of the closest chair, and then sat down. Her fingers hovered over the papers until she say the all too familiar rushed and jittery script on the box. There was no willpower strong enough to keep her from opening it.

What did he send her?

She paused and flicked her eyes to Hayate, who was sitting dutifully at her feet, and then back to the box. She couldn't help but feel foolish as her fingers brushed against it. There was no one else here and Hayate wasn't capable of telling anyone what he witnessed.

She was just being silly at this point.

Taking a deep breath, she pulled one end of the twine and watched as it slowly untied itself.

Again, Riza found herself hesitating. Why did he send her something? Why now? Why was his timing always so impeccable? It was almost as if he knew they day she was going to have, but that was impossible. Right?

"Just open it, Riza," she told herself, knowing this hesitation was just another way of punishing herself. She chewed the inside of her lip as she opened the box, eyes widening and teeth sinking into her skin when she saw the contents.

"That... That sentimental fool..." she whispered. Hope bloomed in her chest, pushing back the despair that had a white-knuckle grip around her heart. She lifted the chess piece into the air and turned it in her fingers. A broken laugh escaped her as she set the queen piece down by the phone. She stared at it with her fingers tented in front of her mouth for a long time, long enough for Hayate to let out a sharp bark and drag her back to earth. She blinked hard and brushed away the tears she wasn't aware had fallen. She'd done enough crying for the day- too much of it.

She stood from her desk and went to the bookshelf, fingers brushing against the worn and cracked spines and leaving a path in the dust that had collected on them as she walked down the length of it. Setting her shoulders, she grabbed her chess set and returned to her desk. Riza opened the case and pulled out the king, holding it to her chest as she thought.

This was her father's set... Did she really want to ruin it?

She did.

"I guess we're both sentimental fools."

Once again gnawing at the inside of her lip, she set the piece in the box the queen had been in and found herself once again eyeing the piece Major Mustang had sent. Sighing to herself, she took out a piece of paper and scrawled a quick note.

04/23/1916
Major Mustang,
Such sentimental offerings are best saved for after the war, don't you agree? I recall you telling Hughes that men who do such foolish things are the first to die. Surely you can see my reasoning for objecting to this gift.

Was she really objecting, though? She did keep the piece and was sending one of her own in return... She scratched the sentence out and chewed on the end of the pen as she thought.

04/23/1916
Major Mustang,
Such sentimental offerings are best saved for after the war, don't you agree? I recall you telling Hughes that men who do such foolish things are the first to die. Surely you can see my reasoning for objecting to this gift. Death is not an option for you. I made a promise and would hate to fulfill it in such a manner. Hell isn't a place I'd like to visit anytime soon.

Focus on the task at hand and stay out of the rain.

Yours,
Sincerely,
- Lieutenant Colonel Riza Hawkeye.

Months after her return to Central in 1910, Riza Hawkeye was promoted to Lieutenant Colonel. It wasn't a promotion she was expecting or had even wanted. The massive skip in ranks left many angry. She'd only joined the military three years prior, all of that time spent in Ishval, and suddenly, she was rocketing through the ranks. She made enemies father than she could make allies by merely existing- receiving something she didn't want, earn, or deserve.

Of course, there were people that thought her grandfather, Lieutenant General Grumman, had a part to play in this, but it wasn't the case. Her promotion came directly from the Fuhrer. She was nothing more than a Warrant Officer at the time.

"Warrant Officer Hawkeye, do you know why I've asked you to meet with me?"

To thank me for me service and discharge me, she thought to herself. It was the only reasonable explanation for being called to the Fuhrer's office that her rattled brain could think of. Why else would the Fuhrer want to speak with her? Sure, she stood out on the battlefield, but being the Hawk's Eye wasn't something she wanted to be proud of.

"No, sir."

"During the short time you were on the battlefield, you made a name for yourself. The Hawk's Eye, that's what they called you, isn't it?"

"Yes, sir." Her heart was in her throat now. Where was this going? Was she about to be charged with war crimes? It wouldn't surprise her in the slightest if that's what was happening right now. Riza began drafting a will in her head all while managing to keep her expression as neutral as possible.

"Your future is promising, Warrant Officer. I think I'm going to give you a head start."

A what?

"...I'm not sure I understand, sir."

This was the last thing she was expecting.

"I'm promoting you," the Fuhrer stated. Riza blinked in surprise and clenched her fists under the table. Success wasn't success if it's handed to you. Could she accept this? Of course, she could refuse, but there was no way to know what would happen if she did. She'd never heard of anyone to refuse something that came directly from the Fuhrer and keep their job.

"To Second Lieutenant?" To her surprise, the Fuhrer let out a small laugh and gently shook his head. She wasn't expecting that, either. The man had always been so stern and cold, and to hear him laugh... No one would believe her if she were to say it.

"That's not much of a head start, now is it?" Fuhrer Bradley mused. Riza didn't have time to answer before he continued to speak. "Lieutenant Colonel- and I won't take no for an answer."

Lieutenant Colonel?! That was five ranks! There was no way she could accept this. Riza swallowed hard and summoned all her courage to look the Fuhrer in the eye, ready to tell him no.

"That's quite a head start, sir, but I can't-"

"What part of "I won't take no for an answer," did you not understand, Lieutenant Colonel?" The sudden sternness to his words shouldn't have caught her by surprise, but they did.

"My apologies, Fuhrer."

"Is there anything else I can do for you, Hawkeye?"

She was ready to say no and leave the office, but when she thought about it for the second her head allowed, she knew she couldn't leave. The conversation she and Major Mustang had the year prior was suddenly fresh in her mind.

"I want Warrant Officer's Havoc and Breada, Master Sergeant Falman, Sergeant Fuery, and Major Mustang when he returns from the front, sir."

The Fuhrer stayed silent for a full minute, his expression blank as he thought about Riza's request. It was the worst minute of her life, each tick of the clock sent a drip of sweat down her spine.

"An interesting choice, Lieutenant Colonel," Fuhrer Bradley finally said, "very well. You can have your men."

"Thank you, sir."

The way his eye narrowed made Riza's heart drop to her feet. The disdain and detachment contained in the single blue iris left her questioning everything. Everyone had to feel that way, though. Right? He was the most powerful man in the country... There was no way she was the only one to pick up on the emotions lingering below the surface.

Even if she wanted to celebrate her promotion, she couldn't. The riots were growing worse with each passing day. It was as if a switch had been flipped. Riza wasn't sure what sparked the sudden change, but she knew looking for an answer was a waste of the time and effort she was quickly running out of.

The nation had been split almost evenly down the middle about the war from the start, but it seemed the tides were beginning to change.

What would that mean for her city? For her country?

There was no time for Riza to sit and figure out what was right and what was wrong. There was no time for anything besides containing the riots and worrying about if she was capable of doing her job, even then, it seemed the minutes slipped through her fingers like grains of sand. There was a stack of letters on her desk that she hadn't had a chance to open and an even larger stack of paperwork she had to do.

Just before she reached her breaking point, Havoc somehow managed to force her to stay on desk duty for the week, making several vastly different threats she had no way of controlling after the fact.

Damn Bastard.

Riza settled at her desk and cleared her throat, rolling the wrist she had injured the day prior as she picked up the first letter from the pile.

"Lieutenant Colonel Hawkeye, 04/09/1910

Thank you for your service-"

Riza threw the letter away and went on to the next, and then the next, in fact, five of the seven letters were about the same. She didn't want to be thanked. She followed an order. That was it.

"Warrant Officer Hawkeye, 04/14/1910

I've heard some interesting rumors on the battlefield, and I have my own theories but I need to look into it on my own before I say anything more. It may ruin someone's reputation regardless of if it's true or not. I don't think ratting on war buddies is a wise decision.

It's far too late to begin wishing that I had listened to your father. I will never be able to make up for the destruction I've already caused. That's enough self pity for the day, though.

I expect that everything is under wraps in Central. I'm sure you (and the other soldiers) were able to get everything under control rather quickly. How couldn't they with the Hawk's Eye on their side?

-Major Roy Mustang"

"Warrant Officer Hawkeye, 04/28/1910

You still haven't returned my last letter. My common sense is telling me you're busy, but I can't help but worry. I led you into hell and I fear it's followed you out. Please write back to me as soon as you can.

-Major Roy Mustang"

Riza let out a sigh and tried to ignore the way her chest ached at the frantic script in front of her. He could just be paranoid, which she was almost certain he already was, but it felt like there was something more to it, something neither of them were ready to admit.

Riza put the letters in her desk drawer along with the rest of the letters Mustang had sent and put a blank piece of paper in front of herself. Rather suddenly, her mind went as blank as the paper. The language she'd known her whole life had left her completely. She tapped the pen against her desk, needing something to fill the silence as she though. The pen slipped from her fingers when she came to a realization. She was punishing both of them by not writing a letter back.

"Major Mustang, 05/02/1910

If you're going to send a personal letter, you might as well address it as such. I know your mother taught you better manners than that, what would your sisters think? Your paranoia is getting the better of you, as well. I'm fine. I've simply been busy. A promotion will do that to someone, I suppose. You should have been brought up to date but I wouldn't be surprised if that didn't happen. I'm your superior officer now.

As for Central, I'm afraid the news isn't good. The city and the surrounding areas are in ruins. There haven't been any casualties yet, thankfully. I know it will happen one day, though. Tensions are rising. The battlefield feels safer than Central does right now. Sergeant Havoc is no help, either. He insists on accompanying me everywhere. He says it's his right as an older brother which is simply ridiculous. He spent half of our childhood terrorizing me.

Unfortunately, I have other duties that need attending. Your next letter will have a more prompt response time.

-Lieutenant Colonel Riza Hawkeye"

She folded the paper into thirds and tucked it into an envelope, writing Mustang's return address on the front before sealing it.

The riots were never peaceful. They'd leave a wave of destruction behind them each time. Businesses were ruined, the streets covered in debris and sometimes left undriveable for days. The protesters would block traffic and hold rallies as close to Central Command as they could get, but despite all that, there'd never been a casualty.

Then, the spring of 1913 came. Two military officers and five civilians were killed during a riot. Riza knew it was the military officers' fault, but she mourned the loss just the same. Up until that day, she had thought they were good men.

The longer the protests went on, the more everyone changed for the worse. The pair had bright futures and they threw it all away over a broken car window.

That day would haunt her forever. It was the first time she'd taken a life since Ishval. Logically, she knew that if she hadn't stepped in the death count would have gone up on both sides, but that did nothing to ease the guilt that had cemented itself permanently in her stomach.

Riza agreed with the protesters, hell, even with the riots. Her "alignment" had became deeply rooted after the government cut off any news of the war in 1911. She- the country- deserved to know what was happening on the front lines. The citizens were no longer in the wrong in her eyes and the government was slowly becoming the enemy.

She was becoming more and more paranoid by the day because of this. She knew she could trust her team and Lieutenant Colonel Hughes, but that was it. Who would turn their back on her in a split second? Who would sell her out if need be? If everyone was complicit with the military's hush order, it could be anyone. Mustang's frequent personal letters didn't help, either. Riza could feel the hurt in his writing, the fear and anger, and in his status reports, she was told the things the military had been sweeping under the rug.

The Ishvalan's were holding their own and fighting back to lethal degrees, heavily relying on sabotage to do what they couldn't with weapons. The Major had also hinted at the possibility of a spy within the ranks, but neither of them wanted to believe that until there was sufficient proof. Many men had gone missing over the years, it was easier to believe it was one of them instead of one of the men they thought to be allies, brothers in arms.

Riza hadn't even trusted Hughes with this information. She hadn't found a reason to bring the Lieutenant Colonel into this mess yet. There was no proof and whispered amongst the military men wasn't enough to act. She'd seen it happen before, theories wouldn't hold up in court, even the military court. Undeniable proof was needed, and it was up to the Major to get that proof.

Mustang was taking his time gathering the information, she knew that without him having to say it. She didn't blame the Major, though. When justice turns a blind eye the task falls into the hands of the people. Or at least the people that care enough to hold it in their bloodstained hands.

Still, with each letter there was a pit in her stomach, a thought that today would be the day a good man was sentenced to death. Treason was never taken lightly, especially not now.