Author's Note: Yeah, I know. Supposed to be finished. You can thank Morgrin over at AO3 for this chapter. Way back in March of this year they left me a lovely comment that included some speculation about Roy's team's reaction to all of the drama. I've been sitting on the draft for this ever since, and decided to clean it up for RoyEd week. There might be one more part, but it won't be soon. Real life is a mess, and interfering with my hobby. Can you guess who might still want to be heard? Enjoy.

Hawkeye

The first step in weapons maintenance is to ensure that the cartridge chamber is safely clear, so Hawkeye placed the decocking lever in the down position, raised the pistol, and removed the magazine. The slide clicked softly as she slid it back to check for a chambered round. Finding the narrow compartment empty, she let the slide glide smoothly back to the forward position.

This particular Beretta M9 was one of her favorite service pistols. She'd had it since her early days as a cadet and over the years it had served her well, so Riza had always been careful to return the favor. Holding it in her right hand with the muzzle raised, her forefinger unerringly found the disassembly lever to rotate it down until it stopped. The barrel assembly slipped easily from the receiver to reveal the recoil spring and guide. The routine was so familiar, so much a part of her, that her hands moved almost without conscious thought.

That was the thing about guns. Yes, they were dangerous, particularly in the wrong hands. But at the same time, they were infinitely dependable. Providing that you looked after them, they, in turn, looked after you. Their purpose was simple, whether in offence or defence. They had no agenda to serve, no ulterior motives, no quirks or foibles to bring into play.

Unlike people.

Some of her colleagues joked, half seriously perhaps, that Riza preferred guns to people. Ridiculous, really. She was admittedly careful with whom she chose to personally associate, but those allowed within her small inner circle were treated with the same care she treated her most treasured possessions. Ishbal had taught her in no uncertain terms that people were the most fragile of beings, friendships were rare and precious beyond all else, and friends were to be protected at all costs.

Sometimes even from themselves.

With a gentle hand, Riza lightly depressed the recoil spring while pulling up the guide, removing both from the barrel assembly. Then she separated the two parts and set them aside. The locking block was next, and finally the barrel was released from the slide. Riza arranged all the parts of the disassembled pistol on the clean, white cloth before her.

People's affairs were far more complicated to arrange of course. Neatness was the exception, not the rule, with some more than others. Her commanding officer was a prime example. As honest, as noble, as intelligent as he could be, his impulsiveness often made him is own worst enemy. Riza did not pretend to any kind of intimate understanding of anything beyond basic human psychology, but it sometimes seemed to her that Roy Mustang was determined to become a self fulfilling prophesy of the worst kind. It was good that he felt the need to take responsibility and atone for his sins. It was not good to do so by sabotaging his happiness, and consequently the happiness of those closest to him. Take for example his latest, likely subconscious attempt to damage his relationship with Edward.

It was fortunate that Edward had caught him in the act. Fortunate, because otherwise, Roy's indiscretion would have remained hidden, festering inside for who knew how long, a toxic event that would have subtly poisoned their relationship and done substantial damage over time. As painful as it had been for Edward, this way the issue was resolved, quickly, and in a satisfactory manner.

The white flannel cleaning cloth was soft to the touch, and smelled faintly of gun oil. With the ease of long experience, Riza wiped dirt, dust, and carbon buildup from the disassembled parts, one by one. She worked with practiced diligence, ensuring that not a single part was overlooked. Proper maintenance was necessary to ensure proper function, and careless work was out of the question. Every step of the procedure was important.

All the officers under Roy's command were technically under Riza's harshly protective wing, and that included the people close to them as well. Fury's mother, Havoc's parents, Breda's many siblings, Falman's lover, and naturally Alphonse and Winry. That was what had made it difficult for her to sort out her conflicted reaction when the younger Elric had arrived in the office earlier that day to confront her Colonel. The extreme degree of the young man's rage had shocked everyone in the office, and that alone made it obvious that some harm had been done to Edward; nothing could affect Alphonse more profoundly than his brother's wellbeing. By the time Riza had considered how she might intervene, Roy had fled the office with Alphonse in hot pursuit, and out of her reach. All she could do was watch the action unfold from the window, and then wait, hoping that the situation might resolve itself, preferably in a nonlethal manner. It had, surprisingly without bloodshed.

Riza did not use standard issue military weapon lubricant. She preferred a premium quality product that combined a cleaner, lubricant, and preservative, not only for convenience, but to maximize the performance of her firearm. She wet a swab with the CLP and set about cleaning the bolt face, the guide rails on the receiver, and the grooves on the slide, careful not to neglect other hard to reach areas. As was its purpose, the cleaning fluid would penetrate every pit and crevice, lifting away dirt and grime.

The scene this afternoon had certainly been a messy and troubling affair. Riza wished that Alphonse had chosen to deal with Roy in a less public place, though she understood why the young man had chosen to confront his brother's cheating lover in the office. It had been disheartening to hear of the Colonel's rash and hurtful treatment of someone else Riza cared for. Just as difficult was seeing the effect of Alphonse' disclosure on the rest of the staff. Kain's look of hurt betrayal would remain in Riza's mind for some time, just as Jean's and Heyman's roguishly barbed comments would likely linger around the office – distractions the meticulous First Lieutenant did not need. Extensive damage control would most definitely be necessary to get past this, both for Roy, and for his most dedicated protector.

Riza contemplated the difficulties of sustaining the complex interactions of capricious interpersonal relationships. The optimum performance of the tools of your trade was far easier to maintain. With a wry grin she diligently cleaned the bore and chamber of the hand gun, then lubricated the pistol by covering all surfaces with a light coat of CLP. Riza inhaled the clean, sharp scent of the cleaning fluid as she prepared for reassembly.

Roy had come back to the office dishevelled and missing his uniform jacket, but thankfully not injured. Riza admired Alphonse' restraint. Growing up with Edward Elric had likely been an advanced education in exercising self-control. The Colonel had met the eyes of everyone in the office – Kain's confused disappointment, Jean's guarded frown, Breda's calculating expression, Falman's judgementally raised eyebrow - to finally turn his resigned gaze upon his most loyal defender, fully prepared for Riza to pass judgement upon him.

Her cold regard did so. "I hope you have learned your lesson, Sir," was all she'd said.

It wasn't really over yet, however. Riza was not sure what to do with the sealed envelope and watch Roy had passed to her that morning, now locked in her desk. At the time, she had wondered what had happened on his assignment that might cause Edward to so suddenly resign his commission. Now she realized that it had nothing to do with the Fullmetal Alchemist's professional life, but that left her with another dilemma.

Should she go ahead and process the resignation, or should she check with Edward to make sure that he still wanted to go through with it? The repercussions from the Brass, should they discover the reason why one of their most talented, productive, and undisputedly popular State Alchemists had tendered his resignation, could possibly be detrimental to the Flame Alchemist's steady rise to power. She would not mention this to Edward when she spoke to him, however. Riza was not in the habit of openly manipulating the people in her charge to achieve the outcomes she desired.

That was her commander's forte.

Whatever Edward ultimately decided, the supremely capable First Lieutenant would deal with it as necessary.

Reassembly of the M9 was simply a reverse of the procedures used to disassemble the pistol, and Riza's hands moved with the ease of long experience in this as well. Grip the slide. Insert the muzzle. Slot the recoil spring and guide into place. Be careful not to pull the trigger while placing the slide onto the receiver. Push the slide and receiver together, and lock the disassembly lever into place with a click. Done.

Naturally damage control in the office had already begun. The fact that Roy's command, including the commander himself, regarded each other as friends as well as comrades in arms went a long way to mitigating the circumstances. Roy had explained the situation and expressed his sincere regret for his reprehensible behaviour. Kain still regarded his commander with some disappointment, however. As well, Jean and Heymans had spent the afternoon snickering behind their hands, thinly veiled disparaging remarks a subtle part of their banter, but their First Lieutenant's sharp continued glances would soon put a stop to that conduct. Vato would not require her assistance to get past this crisis; rather, he would likely be of much appreciated assistance in terms of guiding the office back to an even keel. It wouldn't be long before the staff was back on track, and operating once again at peak efficiency.

A function check is necessary after a firearm is reassembled to ensure it was working properly. Riza inserted an empty magazine and checked the pistol's utility, then squeezed the trigger, first to check double action, then again for single action. The hammer fell with a satisfying snap both times as expected. She was ready for whatever was required of her.

And that included friendly fire.

Of course, she would never actually shoot any of her charges, even when she thought a carefully placed flesh wound might make her point far clearer than any strongly worded argument ever could. And after all these years, she was quite sure that her flock knew they were safe despite the implied threat of her high caliber brand of encouragement.

Not that she would ever admit that outright, though, and there was always that small seed of lingering doubt that kept them on their collective toes. Riza performed another function check, just to hear that satisfying snap once again.

"Lieutenant?" Hawkeye looked up from her task to observe her commanding officer, working with uncharacteristic diligence at his desk. "Could you . . . please, not . . . use that expression while . . ." The Colonel gestured weakly toward the fully assembled gun in her hand.

The small but positively demonic smile on her face had evidently achieved the desired effect.

"Of course, Sir," she said, checking the safety before holstering her weapon and casting a glance at the wall clock. "It's getting late. Perhaps we should call it a day."

The man's relief was comically obvious. He set about straightening his desk at top speed as Riza stood at parade rest by the door.

"Permission to speak freely, Sir?" she asked, and the man froze.

"Always, Lieutenant," he answered, straightening to meet her eyes unflinching. Bravery had always been his defining characteristic.

"A man with your aspirations must always hold himself to a higher standard," she said quietly. "The measure of a man is in how he treats those most vulnerable, and the most vulnerable people in your life are always those who love and trust you."

"It will not happen again." The Colonel's voice was solid steel conviction.

"Very good, Sir."

Whatever fallout resulted, Riza was prepared to mitigate the damage. It was her sworn duty to protect those she held dear, and protect them she would.

Whether they liked it or not.