Desperation

The military separated into its respective groups as they boarded the train bound for Ishval. Colonels and Generals occupied the foremost car; the State Alchemists boarded the second; and specialists - snipers, masters of explosives, and espionage - took the third car; while the main army headed toward the back twenty.

This will be a big fight, thought Mustang as he looked around at the white coats, even Briggs is represented.

As he mused, Major Roy Mustang fancied he saw Riza Hawkeye, his mentor's daughter, enter the specialists car. This troubled him at first, war was no place for a woman like Hawkeye. But he soon put it from his mind as he recalled the countless sharpshooter awards that adorned her house, and he could only imagine more were stored in her room. Her name was fitting for her skill. She will be fine. She is probably the best shot here. But then again, anything can happen in war.

The steam engine rolled to a smooth stop to the recently constructed station in the middle of the desert. After everyone was filed into their respective ranks, Roy glanced to his left. Sure enough, it was Hawkeye.

Later that night she was sitting around a fire with four other specialists - a fellow sniper, a spy, and two men whose expertise was in blowing things up. Despite the warm air of Ishval, even at night, the fire provided a strange comfort. Conversation flowed from their lives at home to the upcoming conflict and back again. Spirits were high and voices were vivacious. Hours later, a messenger entered the circle of light.

"Riza Hawkeye?" He glanced between the two women waiting for a response.

She looked up, "Yes?"

"You have been assigned to Major Mustang's command. Report to him in the morning."

The others congratulated her on being the first assigned. She responded respectfully but did not give any notice to the rest of the conversation; she was preoccupied with her own thoughts.

"Tell me," said Mustang the next morning when Riza entered the tent, "why did you join the military?"

"After my father died, there was nothing left for me to do, so I came to find you, sir." She spoke with hard indifference.

"It was my words that killed your father, I never apologized for that. Forgive me now." He spoke with the feeling of a dear friend but the voice of an officer to his subordinate.

"You did not kill him, sir. He was dying."

"I have yet to forgive myself - but thank you." The Major's voice softened for a moment, but then returned to his cold matter-of-fact voice. "Tomorrow General Grummel will spearhead the invasion of Ishval. We are going in behind Armstrong's men. After the artillery opens fire, you will move up to the front line as we advance toward the city. Understood?"

"Yes, sir."

And that was all they had to say.

The Amestrian heavy guns were truly extraordinary to behold. As soon as they stopped their bombardment of the despairing town, the three companies led by Mustang, Armstrong, and Hughes charged the damaged walls without a yell.

Hawkeye could see small enemy figures crawling on the ramparts. She took aim and fired, again, and again. By this time, the Majors, running side by side, had reached the range of engagement. Riza looked on with awe and horror as Mustang turned every moving Ishvalin into a living inferno. Even Major Armstrong's ancestral blows could not compare.

The day was soon won.

That night there was song, drink, and celebration all throughout the camp. Alcoholic drinks was reserved only for the highest ranking officers, so Majors Mustang, Hughes, Armstrong, and Sharpshooter Hawkeye had to be content with coffee. They each described their achievements of the battle. Major Armstrong claimed thirteen kills, Mustang told of his eighteen, Hughes said he got eight, and Hawkeye boasted of six kills.

They sang and joked for an hour when the four of them were called for by General Grummel. Besides the two liquor cabinets on either side of the tent flap, and a cot in the corner, there was very little decoration, except for the table at which the General sat.

"You fought very well and very hard today." He praised them. They thanked him. "As a reward," he continued. "I will grant you and your men a bit of a respite tomorrow. You will not be put in immediate danger. You will check the buildings in the conquered territories as the army clears the streets"

When the quartet returned to their place of celebration, they noticed with dismay that there was no more drink and it was yet still early.

Armstrong was the one who spoke their thoughts to the company. "It is a pity we finished the coffee. Though, something stronger would be nice."

"It's a good thing we were summoned by the General, then," Hughes said as he produced a bottle of wine from his coat. Armstrong's eyes sparkled. "It is the best that I could find."

The job was not what one would call easy. It was still dangerous and required a lot of care; but it was more quiet than the front lines and was not as hard on the nerves. The searches were done in groups of two and three. Mustang went with Hawkeye, Hughes was with two of his men, and Armstrong went with one of his. Hughes and Armstrong found refugees straightaway in the houses they searched.

Roy and Riza could hear the gunshots and shouts from their comrades as they cautiously approached their first building. It was a four story building with short ceilings, With gun and gloves drawn, they kicked open the door. Nothing. Furniture - some damaged by the shells, others knocked over in a hurry - was their only company They went slowly up and down the winding stairways and checked every floor carefully. Clear. They walked back out on the street.

The first floor of the next building was empty. As they went up the stairs, however, they could just hear the wood groaning above them. They hurried their steps and threw the door open to see a mother clutching her young child, taking shelter against the back wall. Mustang and Hawkeye froze. The Major lowered his hand; the sharpshooter lowered her firearm. They stood there staring at the shivering mother and her whimpering child. Moments turned to minutes when they heard shuffling coming up the stairs and bursting into the room. It was Hughes.

"Roy," he shouted breathless, "I was worried when you didn't come out." He followed Mustang's gaze. He looked at his feet and let out a soft sigh. "Roy, our orders are to kill every Ishvalin." There was sorrow in his voice.

When Mustang did not move, Hughes slowly sighed and painfully raised his pistol. Just then, the child and it's mother burst into flames.

Hughes walked out the door without a word and Hawkeye dropped her head with painful understanding and went after Maes. Roy Mustang remained for a few moments, then followed the others.

The Flame Alchemist and his subordinate did not hesitate anymore in Ishval.

Hawkeye watched Roy destroy Ishval, almost single-handedly, through the cross-hairs of her rifle. She sat perched at the top of a tower overlooking the entire city. The war was over. Next to no resistance remained, and yet the extermination continued. Why? No threat remained. There was certainly no need for such a powerful weapon as the Flame Alchemist to finish the campaign. We won, but he keeps fighting with the intensity with which he began the war. Her stomach became nauseated, tears filled her eyes, her heart raced. She moved her finger to embrace the trigger with her eyes still fixed on Mustang. It could all be over in a moment. She could take him out right here.

Then she saw it. Through the firm expression set on his face, she could see his eyes. They were full of anger, but not against the Ishvalins. Roy Mustang was enraged with the war, with his superiors, with Central and Fuehrer Bradley, he was enraged with himself. No. He does not want this. When it is over he can change our country. He can make things right. It would not be right to kill him now, even though by letting him live...

The war of extermination had begun to take its toll on them all. Maes Hughes now thought only of Gracia during battles, to remind himself of why he fought and to maintain his sanity. It was the only was he could endure all that he had done. And Alex Armstrong wept as he fought.

Mustang was now only a few hundred feet from where Hawkeye sat. The fighting was harder than it had been of late; perhaps it was the urgency of inevitable death for the Ishvalins.

Fresh Amestrian forces were running past the base of Hawkeye's tower to aid Mustang and his men, when there was a terrific noise and the ground where they had stood shook violently. A flash, and an explosion. Seven were killed instantly, then, slowly at first, the sturdy foundations of the now crumbling tower gave way and, floor by floor, it collapsed. New Ishvalin soldiers emerged from the side streets by where the explosion originated and opened fire on the Amestrians. The soldiers returned volley for volley. Mustang ran to the where Riza lay amidst the rubble and carried her through the crossfire, across of the town, over the expanse between the battle and the camp, back to the hospital.

Roy did not return to battle that day; he did not have breakfast, lunch, or dinner He stayed by her side. During that time, for the following hours, his mind resurrected memories of her.

I'm Roy Mustang, sir.

Ah, my pupil. Please come in. I will show you to your room. You may settle in today and begin study tomorrow. Your room is at the end of the hall, past mine and my daughter's own rooms.

That was the first time they met. Riza's bedroom door was open and she looked up from her study at the voices and watched her father and his pupil walk by.

Roy, my pupil, I have to go away for a few days. Study your latest lessons and you will be tested on them when I return.

During his time gone, Roy and Riza spent many hours studying together, talking and entertaining themselves at the house and in town.

Today is the dawning of a new year, Roy.

Yes, sir, it is.

You have trained under my direction for several years now and will soon graduate. Here, it is a book on the history of Alchemy.

Thank you. And for you, sir, a book about the discovery of the transmutation circle.

Thank you, Roy.

Riza. I have flowers for you.

Do you have anything for him in return, daughter?

Yes.

And she kissed him on the cheek.

There she lay on the hospital bed. Three nights he spent by her side fighting during the day when duty called. Always unconscious and never a stir. The doctors said that even if she survived, she would never be able to interact with anyone again.

Outside the hospital tent could be heard gunshots and cheers. Roy looked out from where he sat. Two men passing near were merrily singing out Happy New Year! He looked back at Hawkeye's face.

"Happy New Year, Riza." He leaned over and kissed her.

During those four days, Mustang left only to eat with Hughes and Armstrong. None of them spoke much. They talked a little about the war, but not a word about Hawkeye.

On the fourth day, Major Mustang led an attack on a barricade near the end of the city.

Three snaps of his fingers and the opposition stopped momentarily. As they cautiously approached the barricade they received fire from a few men with severe burns who appeared from the rubble. Several gunshots and the Ishvalins fell back. As Roy's men inched closer, they could make out a foreigner with light colored skin, clearly not from the area. A blue light shown from the where the man's hands touched the fallen bodies and they rose from their distorted positions. The foreigner seemed to be resurrecting the dead Ishvalins.

Several horrified soldiers raised their guns.

"Hold your fire!" called Mustang. He burned the body of the man the foreigner was curing and rushed at him. The man had no time to flee, the Flame Alchemist was upon him in an instant. When the Major had him in his custody, Mustang saw, by the man's complexion and outlandish garb, that he was from Xing.

Then he remembered, they were known for their healing there, and could cure the sick or injured of almost any ailment. Cure any injury or ailment...

"Corporal, carry on here, I'll return momentarily."

"Sir."

Roy Mustang dragged the man all the way back to the hospital tent and forced him on his knees next to Riza.

"Cure her."

At first the man from Xing did nothing. Mustang put his fingers by the Xingman's ear, prepared to snap in a moment. "Cure her," he repeated, his voice even more commanding than before. Anyone who knew of the Flame Alchemist would be beside himself with fear in this position. Luckily for this man, he was a foreigner.

"Why should I help you?" the man asked defiantly. "Amestria came to eliminate an entire race. If I save this girl, there is just one more soldier to do the job."

When, after a while, he did not receive an answer, he looked up at Mustang and was shocked to see both anger and tears in his eyes. Tears of desperation.

"Please," was his only reply.

The man of Xing looked back at Riza with new eyes, drew the transmutation circle, and performed the operation. Instantly, color returned to her face and the short bursts of air turned into deep breaths. Roy released the man from Xing, who stood up and hurriedly left, and himself fell to his knees.

She would not only survive, but live.

The End