A/N: This has been sitting on my Tumblr for a few months now and as I begin to write the second chapter, I figured I'd post it here as well. I received an ask that said, "Think Royai: "What would you do when the person who would take a bullet for you is behind the trigger?" and I instantly thought of a prompt I had reblogged that went a little like this:

Person A had lost their memory, but they've been promised if they turn over Person B, the bad guys will give them back their memory. Person A agrees, however, after turning over B and regaining their memories, they realize that B and them were lovers and they just turned over the most important thing in the world to them.

The first paragraph is what I wrote in response to that ask using the prompt above. The artist who sent the ask and I collaborated on the piece, and she in turn made this heartbreaking piece of fanart for it on tumblr: http:*/ask-royai-lty.*tumblr.*com/*post/150216629823/the-flame-and-hawks-eye-see-what-happened-i . (Remove the asterisks to see it).

The rest of it is what we brainstormed after that.

Also, I've posted more one-shots/short stories on Tumblr. If anyone is interested in me posting them here, let me know. I'm currently working on the next 'Like Family' and 'Hellbound,' and will hopefully have them up sometime next month. Thank you for your patience, and let me know if you see any OOCness!

It's nothing personal, she had told him in such a cool, collected tone as she pressed the barrel of her weapon against the spot between his shoulder blades. I just need to know who I am.

He appeared to know as the words that continued to tumble from his lips became more personal. More intimate.

But how was she to know if what he was saying were true? After all, they had warned her that he was a conman with a specialty in manipulation. He could collect as little or as much information as he needed from his target, take their memories and force them into subjugation, as evidenced by the obscure circles drawn on his gloves. Those had been his weapons, they had proclaimed. Those had been the reason why she could not even remember her own name.

So they offered her an exchange: the man and his gloves for a reversal. A cure. It was nothing personal she tried to tell him, and herself, as she tried to subdue the pit of doubt in her stomach that fluctuated with every begging word he uttered toward her. She just… needed to know who she was.

But then the exchange was made, and one of them stepped forward with intricate circles of his own drawn on his hands. She sucked in a deep breath and bowed her head, and he pressed his fingertips against her brow.

The memories coursed into her mind like a raging river: fast, undulating swells of images that accentuated every detail of her life. She squeezed her eyes shut as one of them, a constant in nearly all of them, continually pushed to the forefront of her mind. The feeling in her stomach lurched with every image of him and she finally relented to it…

Riza's eyes flew open and she lunged toward him, finding herself immediately trapped in the arms of the once promising 'ally' she believed she had procured. She fought against him, writhing and pushing against him as she locked eyes with the one she had so easily betrayed.

The person she had wholeheartedly given her life to in exchange for his.

Despite everything, his eyes were full of forgiveness and still possessed the love she had always known. But then they vanished beneath a burlap sack and, moments before the same happened with her, she reached toward him in one last attempt to get to him, praying that he understood the extent of her sorrow as a strangled, "Colonel," escaped her lips.

"Wipe my memory. Make me forget everything for all I care!
Just… Just bring him back. Give him back!
Do what you want with me. Just please…

"Don't touch Roy."

The first word that came to mind was foolish. Was she incapable of understanding how far his power, that of the alleged 'Mind-Bending Alchemist,' could reach? She had just witnessed in the moments before when she had so willingly handed over her superior officer, all without so much as batting an eye. He would think the Hawk's Eye of all people could realize that a power such as his could stretch further than what he had demonstrated, because if he felt compelled to, he could easily strip her mind of its ability to understand and then execute the most basic of body functions.

The thought of her writhing on the floor, gasping desperately as her mind betrayed her body and its need for air crossed his mind, but only for a moment. Because as he placed his hands on the crown of her head and pressed his thumbs to her brow, he gave himself another opportunity to look into large brown eyes still brimming with tears, and realized that she did understand his capabilities.

She understood everything.

And yet she stood without wavering, unafraid of his capacity.

Suddenly the incessant tears and begging that tumbled from her lips the moment they had led the Colonel away made sense. How easily she had forgotten her role as a subordinate to the man and how effortlessly she had slid into another one. Her wall had fractured and their positions as leader and follower crumbled as she addressed him, her Colonel, as though he held more meaning to her than previously believed.

How… wasteful it would be if he were to end her life right there for just a few minutes of entertainment. No, now as he was watching her, and she him, he realized what should be done. And while he wouldn't be able to fully appreciate what he would do, he would still have the satisfaction of knowing the devastation he would leave in his wake.

The thought was enough for him to forgo what he had first thought and instead choose to take a different course of action. "If that is what you want," he said as her eyes fluttered shut, a tear breaking loose and trailing down her cheek as she accepted his words. "Then that is what I will give you."

It had been too long, Jean Havoc thought, disgusted with himself, as he looked down at his watch again. It had been too long since their last point of contact with the Colonel and the Lieutenant. Over and over again he berated himself, and over and over again he reminded himself that it was he who suggested they move separately. And while he supposed he couldn't have predicted what had happened would force the mission into a nosedive, he still could not help but feel responsible for the laxity with which he viewed the mission.

He had viewed it as a somewhat simple one. Find who the military described as the "Mind-Bending" Alchemist and apprehend him. Don't let him get his hands on you. Cuff him, lock him up, and throw away the key.

Simple.

But even the Colonel did not anticipate just how large the network was that he was working for. They had thought he had been working alone when he was spotted again, but that ended up being too far from the truth. Reaching up and rubbing his aching neck, he admonished himself again for failing to realize that their target had others with him. By the time he and his men had taken care of them, the Colonel and Lieutenant Hawkeye had already gone ahead and had taken chase. And now that they've finally made it to where their vehicle was parked, Jean couldn't help but acknowledge the growing pit of dread in his stomach that told him they were too late getting there too.

The warehouse was eerily quiet, the only sounds being the echo of the crunch of his team's boots against the rough gravel floors and the occasional readjustment of one of their weapons. He turned for a moment to look over his shoulder at his team, which consisted of Lieutenant Breda, Warrant Officer Falman, Sergeant Fuery, and the newly minted Sergeant Hines, a trainee who had been appointed to them for their mission. He was supposed to see how successful a mission could be.

Seeing that he had turned around, the Sergeant's eyes met Jean's and he perked up a little. "Lieutenant Havoc? If you don't mind… Could you give me this case's rundown again? I want to make sure I understand everything there is to know about who we're chasing."

Jean turned his attention back to the hallway they were traversing, putting up his guard again when he saw movement. But once he realized he had only detected the flicker of one of the lightbulbs that hung above their heads, he allowed himself to relax. Slightly. "Guy's M.O. is all over the place from what I've read. Reports say he first popped up in west Amestris a couple months ago doing it like a circus act or something. Getting paid to take someone's memories and re-implant them, all of it by seemingly just touching them. But then he suddenly vanished. We had been keeping tabs on him up until that point to make sure he didn't become hostile. His alchemy is unlike anything the military has seen and in the wrong hands it could topple governments and devastate a ruling party. So when he disappeared into thin air you could imagine the military's alarm. It was in the hands of Investigations up until a few weeks ago when someone with similar abilities surfaced in the underground. But the thing is," he added ominously, "We can't confirm if it's him or not because we haven't seen the individual's face yet. Every time he appears we're unable to get him at a good angle. And then by the time we swarm him he's gone"

"Well, can't we assume it's him then? I mean, you said so yourself: The ability is unlike anything the military had seen before. It's gotta be such a precious secret that he wouldn't just hand it over to anyone like that," Sergeant Hines quipped.

Jean shook his head as he continued marching forward, never allowing his eyes to wander away from the corridor that lie ahead of them. "If someone wanted those secrets, they could have employed different ways of getting them from him. Or," he postulated, "It could still be him, only with a changed appearance. It's difficult to say. But all I know is that—" Cutting himself off, he slowed his jog to a light canter, which in turn encouraged Lieutenant Breda, Sergeant Fuery, and Sergeant Hines to do the same. After taking a few additional steps, he lifted his arm and stopped in his tracks and the men followed suit.

They remained in their positions, guns raised and pointed in a three-way formation as Jean carefully snuck toward a door they had come upon. Stopping just beside it, he allowed himself to give their surroundings one quick sweep again before he leaned toward the door and hovered his ear over it.

Aside from the steady echo of water droplets falling from the structure's rusting pipes, it didn't seem like the room housed anything significant. Still, he thought as he gripped the door's handle, they would give it a quick look-over. Because if they missed anything related to their missing Colonel and Lieutenant, he would never forgive himself. But just as he was about to turn the handle and push it open, something inside the room beyond the door stirred. His breath caught in his throat and he froze in place, straining to listen for it again to confirm.

"Lieutenant Havoc," Hines piped up, "Is something—"

Whirling around, Jean pressed his finger to his lips to silence the young Sergeant. The latter gasped and slammed his lips closed, his face turning bright red as he realized his mistake.

With a shake of his head, Jean turned back to the room and brushed his ear over the door, holding his breath again. Though his heart was beating fiercely in his ears, he could still make out the very distinct sound of something rustling around inside. Determining that this was a cause for investigation, he took a step back from the door and straightened his back. Without turning back to the men he was leading, he raised a steady hand and signaled to them to ready themselves. When he heard them turn the safety of their guns off, he eased forward again and slowly depressed the door's handle, taking care not to turn it too slowly or too quickly. And, once he heard the confirmatory click that announced to him it was open, he took one final breath and lifted three fingers on the hand still suspended in the air.

Three.

Two.

One.

On his one count, he shoved the door open and burst into the room, the men at his flank immediately following in after him and taking their places near the door, their weapons armed and trained on the supposed threat.

However, they quickly realized, after a shriek of surprise and an instantaneous visual sweep of the otherwise dim, empty room revealed to them nothing but one of the two people they were searching for. His eyes instantly snapped back to Lieutenant Hawkeye, who was seated on the floor, her hands clapped over her mouth and her eyes wide with fear. Jean slowly lowered his weapon and took a step toward her, and she in turn scrambled backward as quickly as she could. But midway through her hasty retreat her expression changed and she halted herself, her eyes locked on her team as they too relaxed their stances.

Jean did another sweep of the room to confirm what he had seen on first glance: that the Colonel wasn't there with her. Meaning that he was likely still somewhere in the building with them. Turning to look back over his shoulder at the team, he commanded, "Breda, Hines, Fuery. The three of you go and continue to sweep the building. The only people who will be leaving with the Colonel today will be us."

The three men lifted their hands in a quick salute. Sergeant Hines was the first to drop his before he dipped around the door in pursuit of the Colonel and his captors. But Breda and Fuery lingered for a few moments, their eyes glued to Hawkeye.

Jean waved his hand at them and urged, "All of us will catch up later. But right now I need you two to go make sure we get the Colonel."

They both hesitated and Breda made a move to respond, but stopped himself. His shoulders sagged and he relented to Jean's request, giving him a firm nod in reply. Placing a hand on Fuery's shoulder, he drew his attention from Riza and onto him. Their silent exchange was brief, ending with Fuery dipping his head in understanding before he turned away and hurried after Hines. Breda did the same, though not before lifting a hand and giving Jean a salute, which the latter hastily returned.

Once they had completely vanished around the corner in pursuit of Hines and the Colonel, Jean could finally focus his energy back on Hawkeye. Turning toward her to see that she still remained in the same position, one hand raised warily in defense, he slowly began to ease forward and said, "I'm sorry to scare you like that, Hawkeye. We just thought that—"

"Please… H-help me," she hiccuped as she scrambled to her knees once he was close enough to her to be within arm's reach. She was shaking, trembling, as pleas continued to spill from her lips.

He dropped to his knees in front of her and she came to a stop in front of him. "Hawkeye… Hawkeye, it's okay," he reassured her as he lifted his hand and pressed it to her shoulder. She reacted by clinging to his arm, digging her nails into his jacket as though his tight grasp on her shoulder weren't enough to tether them together. Surprised by her brazen act, he looked up from her grip to see her brown eyes red and swollen, flicking frantically back and forth as she scanned his expression for confirmation that things really were okay.

Her eyes widened. "You're a soldier…"

His brow wrinkled and his lips instinctively parted to answer, but he stopped himself from immediately answering. It had been something he had nearly grown accustomed to answering when prompted by civilians, and therefore had developed a knee-jerk reaction to. But this was Hawkeye he was speaking with. Not a civilian, but a seasoned soldier like he—

"You're… You're both soldiers, right," she continued with a gasp, looking from Jean to Falman before she turned her focus to him again. She tightened her grip on his sleeve. "Then… Then you can help me find it!"

"Hawkeye, calm down," Jean instructed, giving her shoulder a gentle squeeze to bring her attention back onto him. "You're not making any sense—" The feeling that had manifested itself inside him the moment he had stepped foot onto the property plummeted into his gut as his mind finally began to process her words, and his subconscious fear was recognized. As the crushing reality began to sink in, he loosened his hand and sat back on his heels.

"P-Please," she sobbed and tugged him closer. "Please! You have to help me!"

"Lieutenant Havoc, we—"

Jean lifted his hand and silenced Officer Falman. Ignoring the confused glare he felt on the back of his head, Jean kept his focus on Riza. How desperate she was. How fearful she had become. How utterly unlike herself she had become. Was this the power that alchemist truly possessed? The power to remove every single memory of her life from her mind? Even those that remained so deeply ingrained in her that their existence was removed from her mind completely?

His mind was reeling, desperate for a sign from her that would tell him that she was there. That the professional, rational Hawkeye he knew she was was still inside of her. But in the moments that followed his immediate, utter sense of loss, his heart repeatedly, frenziedly told him, that she wasn't there… at least, not enough of her to preserve who she had been.

Then if that were the case, he was confident of one thing: That the Colonel was gone. He imagined it wouldn't be too long until Breda, Fuery, and Hines would return empty-handed. And he knew that she would be no help them – not when she couldn't even remember what, or rather who, she was searching for.

He swallowed back the dread and reminded himself that every moment they spent contradicting what she might say with unproductive words in the hopes she would remember, the further away the Colonel would become… and the more likely it would be that they would find him in a similar state, if not worse.

He took a deep breath and exhaled, allowing himself to slip into the role she believed him to be: a simple soldier. Giving her shoulder a gentle squeeze to bring her back to him, he gave her the sincerest smile he could muster and said, "That's right. We're here to help, ma'am. Now let's… start from the beginning…"

It had been almost too easy to fool the Colonel into believing his subordinate was there with them. Though, he supposed as he lifted the needle from the worn record player to silence the repetitive drone of an unidentified woman's voice, the pieces had fallen into place with relative ease. Had the Lieutenant not pleaded for her superior officer's release immediately after she had turned him over, it may have been slightly more difficult to convince him. But," he determined when he raised the record from its cradle and maneuvered it around in his hands, that and the discovery of a discus with a voice distorted and generic enough to substitute for the Lieutenant's tone had been enough to seemingly convince the Colonel that she was as trapped as he. So for the time being it was… enough.

The door behind him creaked and he straightened himself, momentarily hearing the Colonel's anguished cries escalate as they echoed through the corridor and throughout the room before their reverberations were once again quieted by the door's barrier. Once he heard it click closed behind him, he looked over his shoulder to find one of his 'accomplices' standing with one hand on his hip, the other sporting a long, flat piece of wood, edges bloodied and raw. Seeing that his attention was sought, he lifted a brow.

His co-conspirator lifted the wood and settled if over his shoulders, shifting his weight from one hip to the other. Nodding toward the door, he said, "Still begging for his Lieutenant's release. D'you want us to keep the act up?"

He tore his eyes away from the man and looked down at the record in his hand, dragging a thumb along its raised grooves, depressing it just enough for them to irritate him. But after a few moments of silently contemplating it, he shook his head and said, "You may continue on as you are. I think he has more than enough 'evidence' to suggest that she's here with us."

"Alright." His accomplice relaxed his stance and dipped his head, and turned to make his way back toward the door.

Before the other departed, another thought came to his mind. "Come retrieve me once he has had enough," he mentioned once his accomplice had whirled around.

He lifted his hand and gestured in a salute. "Yes, sir."

"And," he added as the corners of his lips tugged upward at the thought. "Remember… Keep his face relatively unscathed. I don't want him questioning the marks too soon. I'd like to have a little fun with his memories first…"