A/N: Welcome! Once a week, on Wednesday, I'll be uploading a new chapter of this new multi-chapter fic. I hope you enjoy.

I do not own FMA.

Chapter One - The Watcher

EAST CITY, EASTERN DISTRICT

DECEMBER 7, 5 A.M.

The sun had yet to rise over East City; another two hours would see it peeking over the horizon, bringing weak,

wintry light to the waking population. For now, the majority of the city slept, though soldiers spanned across the urban landscape were rising from their beds, flooding the windows of their homes with light as they got ready for the day.

On a flat rooftop, lying prone within a thick black coat, a man watched one such lighted window through large binoculars. Pale blue eyes followed the movements of the occupant within through the lenses. "Good morning, my lovely," he murmured. "How good to see you again."

Lifting a hand from the binoculars, he picked up the pen lying on the pad of paper at his side. Nearly numb fingers shook only slightly with cold as he wrote 'Rises 5 a.m.' "As per usual," he murmured.

His hand paused in its writing, his eyebrows lifting with a broad smile as something within the apartment caught his attention. "What have we here . . . ." The woman stood with her back to the window, long hair loose, in the process of unbuttoning the dusty-pink sleep shirt she wore. It dropped from her shoulders, and her watcher's smile grew even farther. "Ah . . . . A beautiful tattoo, to be sure."

The woman shrugged into a clean shirt . . . the man watched as her head came up sharply, and she moved out of sight. He reached over to scribble 'full-back tattoo' on the paper. "Now, what got your attention so suddenly," he said, half to himself. There were two windows to his subject's apartment; his eyes darted from one to the other.

Abruptly, she appeared again, a telephone receiver pressed to her ear, the main body of the device held in her hand as she moved to look idly out the window. The man stared at her, at the way her lips moved as she spoke, at the way she tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear. She was serious as she spoke to her caller . . . and then smiled without warning.

"Oh my . . . ." His heart raced at the sight of her lips curving upward. The smile wasn't meant for him: it was private, fond, and amused, all at once. No teeth showed, but the tip of her tongue darted out to moisten her lips. To be privy such a private moment, to so subtly violate it, thrilled him.

The woman took the phone from her ear, replacing it in the cradle as she moved farther back into her apartment. Over the course of the next ten minutes, he periodically lost sight of her as she moved about, getting ready for the day, until finally, the lights were extinguished.

Setting the binoculars aside, the man crept to the edge of the roof, peering down into the street below. Snow crunched and squeaked under the woman's boots, less audibly so beneath the paws of her dog as the pair of them emerged onto the street. Scratching affectionately behind her pet's ears, the woman led him off north at a sedate walk.

The man watched her go until she turned a corner. "Taking the dog to work today, hm? How sweet." He folded his arms on the roof edge. "Have a nice day, Lieutenant Hawkeye."

The coffee shop up the street from her apartment was, to her knowledge, the only establishment within walking distance that was open at this hour. Pushing through the door, setting the overhead bell tinkling, Riza paused to hold the glass-and-wood panel open for Black Hayate.

"Good grief, young lady, don't you know it's too early to be up and about?" a voice said from behind the counter, gruff and irritable.

"It doesn't seem to stop you, Mr. Nickelson," Riza countered good-naturedly. This verbal sparring match had been part of her morning routine every day of three out of the six years she'd spent stationed in East City before transferring to Central with Roy; the pattern had continued upon their return after the Promised Day. "You're getting contradictory in your old age."

Leaning on the serving counter, Nickelson fixed his customer with a mock-stern glare. "And you're as lippy as ever, missie. Didn't anyone ever teach you to respect your elders?"

"When you're old enough to be an elder, I will," she assured him, smiling fondly. "But in the meantime: have any recommendations for this morning?"

Folding his arms, Nickelson shook his silver-haired head stubbornly. "No can do, not until you learn to keep your tongue in check. I'm terribly insulted; I doubt I'll be able to work now."

"Eric, stop grousing and give the girl her tea!" a woman's voice interrupted. Said voice's owner bustled into view a moment later: a graying, robust woman wiping her floury hands on an already dusty baker's apron. "Good morning, Riza dear," she said, cheeks dimpling as she smiled. "Don't mind him, he's been a pill since he woke up." She moved toward a tall thermal container, picking up a clean white mug as went. "I've got just the thing for you, sweetie: a lemon-orange blend that's just right for waking a body up."

"Thank you, Marian." Putting her payment on the counter — and shooting a teasingly victorious look at Eric — Riza trailed along the serving counter after the woman. "It sounds perfect." Behind her, seated patiently on the tiled floor, Hayate barked twice.

"Ah! You brought him!" Coming around the end of the counter with a brimming mug, Marian beamed at the Shiba Inu as the bell over the door chimed again. "There he is! There's the handsomest dog in all of East City!"

Pausing in the act of stomping snow from his boots, Roy looked up, somewhat bewildered. ". . . I'm not sure whether I should be flattered or insulted," he commented, looking to the shop's only other occupants. "She used 'handsome' and 'dog' in the same sentence."

"Not you," Marian scolded mildly, before turning her attention back to the dog in front of her. "This fella is the handsomest!" Crouched in front of him, she scratched vigorously behind his ears, his eyes closing and tail thumping the floor, happy at the praise. "Look at this adorable face! You just want to cuddle him forever!" Standing straight, she patted him on the head. "You wait right there; I've got something special in the back for you."

Accepting a cup of coffee from Eric with a nod, Roy faced his Lieutenant. "Sorry for the short notice. Like I said, I wanted to discuss this before we got to the office."

"Not a problem, sir." She gestured to the ironwork tables spaced across the shop. "Shall we?"

The two of them settled into their separate chairs, Roy dropping a folder onto the tabletop between them. "New orders came through regarding the reconstruction effort. We're going to need to make another trip to the Kanda region in the next couple of days." He rubbed wearily at his forehead. "It's an extended stay; we'll need use of the house."

'The house' was a military-held property in Ishval: four bedrooms, two bathrooms, a kitchen, and a living area, just big enough for Roy and his personal staff, plus one or two visitors as needed.

Riza opened the file, scanning briefly through the pages contained within. Five separate travel orders, for Roy, herself, and the rest of the men, all with Grumman's signature at the bottom. Five orders, instead of six, since Falman had elected to stay in the North at Briggs. "I'll call ahead and set up the arrangements when we get to the office," she said, taking a sip of her tea. "It all seems very straightforward. Why was it necessary to meet with me outside of work?"

Dark eyes watched Marian giving Hayate a pair of vanilla wafers as a treat. "Maybe I just wanted to see your pretty face," he said dryly, before sobering. "Truthfully, I wanted your opinion on something." He shifted in his chair, folding his hands in front of him. "What if I were to . . . extend an invitation for the Elrics to go with us? There's new buildings going up in that region, and it might be good to have a couple extra hands that are good at making things."

Smiling faintly, Riza sat back in her chair. "Winry might object to you dragging Edward away, but I can imagine both he and Alphonse might be interested in helping. Though Edward won't be able to assist in an alchemical capacity."

"That shouldn't be a problem, given the Ishvalan opinion of alchemy." Roy took a deep sip from his coffee cup. "I'll put a call in later this morning . . . unless you want to do it? He's less likely to yell at you."

Lifting a single eyebrow at his sheepish grin, Riza fought back a smile of her own. "That's all right, sir, I'm sure you can handle it." Her cup of tea held in both hands, she peeked over the rim at him, watching for his reaction. "Though I suppose, if you can't find it in you to talk to one teenager from a hundred miles away, then . . . ."

Her voice trailed off as his brows drew low on his forehead, eyes narrowing. He knew full well what she was doing, with this completely blatant attempt at reverse psychology. At this point, it wasn't even that anymore; it was full-out mental blackmail. If he backed down, Roy Mustang would forever be known as the man afraid of Edward Elric.

His tone, despite his glare, was civil and serene. "I can't imagine what gave you that idea, Lieutenant," he said. "I simply thought that, seeing as you have a soft spot for those boys, you might want to be the one to call them."

"Of course. I must have misunderstood you." Riza sipped at her tea, before pausing to study the cup's contents. Free at last from Marian's attention, Hayate trotted across to stand with his head in his mistress's lap. "Was there anything else you wanted to discuss with me, sir?"

He shook his head. "That should be it." Grinning, he buried his nose in his coffee cup. "I thought it might be a nice surprise for the men to see the Elrics. Couldn't very well discuss my plans in front of them, now could I?"

"A surprise," Riza repeated, smiling faintly. "In the way that finding an angry badger in your apartment would be a surprise, maybe."

"Did you just call Edward Elric a badger?"

Shaking her head, Riza swallowed the last of her tea. "Arguing with you first thing in the morning is impossible, sir. You stop using logic and resort to twisting my words." Sitting back, she stroked Hayate's head, watching as his eyes closed in contentment.

"Logic requires brainpower. My brain is not entirely awake yet." His eyes watched her over the rim of his coffee cup. "That's what the coffee is for."

Silence held for nearly five minutes after that, the two of them gazing out the window with their own thoughts as the city dozed under its six-inch mantle of snow. The occasional military police vehicle drove past, patrols keeping an eye out for any malcontents; not that it did any good, since lowlifes knew to keep their dealings and themselves concealed in the back alleys and abandoned buildings.

At last, at a quarter to six, Roy got to his feet. "Ready to go? I can give you a lift to Headquarters, if you want."

Riza smiled. "It's either that, or walk a half-mile with a dog that loves playing in snow far more than he should." Standing, she re-fastened the buttons on her coat before bending to attach Hayate's leash to his collar. "He's gotten big enough that he can almost drag me around."

"Then allow me to help you out, Lieutenant." Reaching over, he plucked the leash from her hand before motioning to the door. "Time we were on our way, I believe."

Halfway to the door, Eric spoke. "Hold up, Little Riza; aren't you forgetting something?" He waved a folded newspaper in his hand, smirking. "You like to stay in the know about what's going on in the world, don't you?"

Taking the stiff newsprint, she fought back a smile of her own. "You know me too well. Thanks again; both of you."

Marian waved from the kitchen. "You just bring that pretty puppy back soon; that's all the thanks I need!"

Grimacing as Hayate pulled strongly against the leash, Roy muttered, "There is nothing about this beast that's still a puppy."

The walk to the car was a short one, the only noise being the snow beneath their boots. As was the case every time he met his Lieutenant somewhere, Roy had parked a distance away from the location so as not to draw unwanted attention to their meeting place. Just another habit that had formed in the years the two of them spent gathering sensitive information.

Once settled in the driver's seat, Roy wasted no time. "So what did they give you?"

Unfolding the newspaper, Riza extracted a piece of paper with neat writing on it. "Something interesting." Her brow furrowed. "'Dissident elements gathering in North City under cover of miners' coalition convention.' I'm sure General Armstrong would be highly interested to hear about that."

"If there's increased chatter from Drachma, it could mean they're planning a two-pronged assault on Briggs." Slouched in his seat, Roy stared out the front windshield, thinking. "There's nothing to say Armstrong doesn't already know about it, with her sources, but if she had, odds are that we would have heard something."

"Not if she didn't go through official channels." Pursing her lips in thought, Riza passed him the note. "She doesn't trust Grumman any further than she can throw him; none of her people do. If there's something going on in her back yard, she's not going to take help from Central or East City to beat it back."

"Hmm. Point." Wriggling one hand into a glove, Roy opened the door and held the note out over the snow; one tiny snap later, it was aflame. "Have Fuery get in touch with their communications officer on the secure line they set up, see if he can confirm or deny this rumour. If it's true, we have a vested interest in nipping it in the bud; any similar attacks along the Eastern border would be even easier than in the North."

Hands folded in her lap, Riza relaxed against the smooth leather seat. "I'll have a report on the situation on your desk by noon."

"Good." Giving her a side-long glance, he smiled. "Are we done talking business now?"

"For the moment."

"Finally."

Leaning across to her seat, he touched his fingers to her chin, turning her face toward him. Lips closed over hers in a softly passionate kiss; Riza smiled at the touch. When Roy pulled away, turning his attention to getting the car started, his face carried a tinge of red. "Been wanting to do that since I walked through that door this morning," he muttered.

"Just over a year, and you still blush," Riza murmured, half to herself. "That's adorable, really."

"I'm going to take that as a compliment and ignore the sarcastic undertone."

With Hawkeye's dog at the office with her, it left her apartment totally unguarded. Perhaps the woman didn't realize how lax her personal security really was, if her home was this easy to break into. Any person with a bit of skill as a lockpick and a tendency to move quietly could get in within ten minutes.

Standing in the middle of the living space, hands in loose fists on his hips, the man studied his surroundings. "You'd certainly never make it as a homemaker, would you, my dear . . . ."

The apartment was spartan at best: nothing more than was absolutely necessary. A bed, a table with a pair of chairs, a tiny kitchen — kitchenette, really — a dresser. Head tilted curiously to once side, the man drifted toward the latter.

"Can't say much for your taste in clothes," he murmured, sifting through the middle of three drawers. Each garment was neatly folded, all of them shirts in this drawer. A number of them were black with short sleeves and a high collar, though several were clearly more feminine. The dark shirts were all on the left side of the drawer, the lighter ones on the right; divided between the two different lives led by Lieutenant Hawkeye, military and civilian.

Pausing to jot down that particular observation, the man closed the drawer, turning toward the bed. Picking up the pillow in its clean, white linen case, he pressed it to his nose and inhaled deeply. A blissful smile crossed his face, his eyes closing. "Ah, yes. Soft and sweet, just as a good woman ought to be . . . ." Replacing the pillow almost tenderly, he smoothed away the wrinkles in the fabric made by his face. "And beneath all the guns and military posturing, that's exactly what you are, isn't it."

Crouching, the man flattened himself against the floor before flipping onto his back and edging underneath the bed. Taking a tiny, circular device from his pocket, he peeled a square of paper from the adhesive back before reaching up to attach the gadget to the underside of the bedframe. Smiling tightly in personal pride, he wormed his way back out into the open room.

A similar device was placed behind the toilet in the bathroom and underneath the table in the kitchen area before he turned his attention to the apartment at large once again, surveying the place. "Someday, dear, you and I will have a lovely chat, face-to-face, and I won't have to sneak around this way."

He was still a moment, before a thought occurred, and he returned to the dresser. Sitting innocently atop it was a glossy, painted ceramic box, decorated in a Xingese style. Lifting the lid, he withdrew a slim gold chain holding a simple amber pendant and tucked it into his pocket.

Leaving was considerably quicker than getting in. The man locked the apartment door behind himself, moving down the hallway to the garbage chute. Glancing around to make sure he was unobserved, he quickly shed his overcoat, dark pants, and pullover, revealing a military uniform underneath. Dropping his discarded clothes down the shaft, he paused long enough to tuck his pants soldier-style into the tops of his boots before heading for the exit.

He slipped noiselessly down the stairs, and out the door onto the street, blending in with the foot traffic inching toward the military headquarters. He kept his eyes on the high, white stone walls as he walked, lips curved in a slight smile.

I'm coming, Lieutenant. Please, wait there.

EAST CITY MILITARY HEADQUARTERS

DECEMBER 7, 1323 HOURS

"I understand that, but —"

Riza looked up as, across the room, Roy stopped in the middle of a sentence for the sixth time. He sat with both elbows propped on his desk, one hand holding a telephone receiver to his ear, the other massaging the bridge of his nose in exasperation. Perhaps, she thought as she watched him, he'd had good cause to dread calling Edward.

At last, Roy's free hand dropped to his desk with a thud, the hard look in his eyes betraying the fact that his patience had snapped. "Elric, would you just shut up for two minutes and hear me out?!"

Returning her attention to her work, Riza smiled inwardly. It had taken weeks of badgering on Edward's part and habit-breaking on Roy's for him to stop using the name 'Fullmetal.' He drew the line at referring to the young man by his given name, but to remember to use 'Elric' while on the verge of losing his temper was a step forward indeed.

His voice was calmer when he continued. "The only reason I'm asking is because you worked with Scar and Miles during the events leading up to and during the Promised Day and I thought you might want to see how things are progressing. It strikes me as the sort of thing you might have an interest in." He paused, listening. "No. No catch, nothing up my sleeve . . . . Sure, for once in my career. Do you want to go or not?"

Pausing once again, he reached for a file on his desk, dragging it over and flipping it open. "I've got the dates right here. It's three weeks in the region itself, with three days of travel time on either end. . . . At this point? There's still a lot of structures being rebuilt . . . No, he wouldn't be able to use alchemy. . . . All right. I'll keep you updated as to the details. . . . Right."

Dropping the receiver back into its cradle, Roy sat back in his chair, scowling. "He said he'd talk to Alphonse and get back to me, but you'd think he'd drop the sarcasm and snippy attitude when he grew up a little more," he muttered.

"People have said the same of you, sir," Riza answered quietly, her gaze still focussed on her work. Across the room, entering in time to catch her remark, Havoc and Breda smothered snickers, with not a great deal of success. Roy shot her a half-hearted glower, the irritation behind it smoothed over somewhat by the fact that a smile was trying to make itself visible on his face.

"Putting that aside for the moment, has there been any further news on that intel we received this morning?" he asked, quickly arranging his expression back to something neutral as Fuery entered. "About the possible situation in the North?"

Fuery shook his head. "I'm sorry, sir, I'm having trouble getting through to Lieutenant Karley at Briggs. I'm having to set up a patch through a secure line at the North City headquarters, but there's a snowstorm in the area that's causing trouble with the signal." He shrugged helplessly. "By my best guess, I won't get an answer until the weather clears. Tomorrow, at the latest."

"That's all right; even if they were to attack Briggs, I have no doubt that General Armstrong would be able to hold them off." Roy shrugged easily, the very picture of a man who is supremely unconcerned. "She's proved herself time and again to be a difficult person to defeat."

"Assuming there actually is trouble in the area," Breda pointed out. "It's not unheard of for terrorists to leak false information to the authorities, just to send them running in the wrong direction. There might not even be any attack planned at all."

Riza folded her arms on top of her desk, looking up at the redheaded man. "My source wouldn't pass me false information," she said, though her tone was more matter-of-fact than chiding. "His own sources are too well-informed for that. Unless you think he has reason to lie?"

Breda shook his head. "I'm not saying that. I just think we should make sure that all the possible angles here are covered."

Roy spoke up again, his tone calm but firm. "For now, we'll have to operate under the assumption that the information from Hawkeye's source is accurate; it always has been before. That's all we can do, until we manage to get in touch with Briggs."

Across the room, the door opened, a boy no older than eleven easing inside. He wore no uniform, though he was dressed smartly; stopping just inside, he tugged the narrow bill of his newsboy cap in Roy's direction. "Sorry if I'm interrupting, sir; mail call."

"Go ahead, Cameron."

Havoc, quiet until now, got to his feet. "Just throwing this out there, Boss, but . . . maybe if we went back and talked to Hawkeye's source? Maybe there's a bit of information or two that it was too risky to put in writing, and they're waiting for extra contact."

Smiling shyly as he dug a packet of envelopes from his bag, Cameron held them out to Riza. "Afternoon, Lieutenant," he said quietly, so as not to interrupt the conversation. "Is your dog here today?"

Setting the stack of mail to one side, Riza passed the boy a bone-shaped dog biscuit, smiling in return. "He's over under Fuery's desk; just watch you don't get in the Master Sergeant's way."

"Yes, ma'am."

"It can't hurt, but Hawkeye will have to be the one to go back and talk to them," Roy was saying. "It's her source. That being said, it will have to wait until tomorrow. To go any time today would deviate from routine; if it comes under scrutiny, it will only cause suspicion." His dark eyes glanced over at his adjutant. "Catch all that?"

She nodded, skimming through the mail, sorting into piles by addressee. "Every word, sir. I'll get in touch with them first thing tomorrow morning." Three for Roy, one each for her, Havoc, and Breda, and two for Fuery. Gathering the envelopes, she got to her feet.

"Excellent." Taking the envelopes that Riza passed him, Roy sat back in his chair again. "That's all we can do for now, unless Fuery miraculously gets through."

Mail distributed, Riza turned back to her desk, opening her own envelope as she went. No return address or stamp, but that wasn't unusual if the correspondence was sent from within the military itself. Inside was a folded piece of plain white paper, the words scrolling across it neatly typed. Frowning, she pulled it out; a letter?

My dear Riza:

It is such a pleasure to finally get in contact with you after all these years. Believe me when I say I have been an admirer of yours for some time now, of your personal strength and strong moral compass. To not only survive the events that you have, but to flourish in the aftermath, is nothing short of commendable.

Pausing in front of her desk, drawn eyebrows forming a deep furrow in her forehead, Riza looked back to the front of the envelope. Who was this from? Her name on the front yielded no answers; it, too, was typed, with no handwriting for possible identification. Confused, and mildly concerned, she looked back to the letter itself.

Afraid I must keep this particular letter brief, my dear. It was simply meant to notify you of my presence, that I'm here and that you will certainly be hearing from me again. I promise you that much. Until then, I would ask that you keep the token I've enclosed, as a reminder.

Token . . . . Opening the envelope, Riza peeked inside, catching a glimpse of dusty green. Setting the letter aside, she reached into the envelope —

"Hawkeye?" Her gaze rose abruptly to find Roy watching her, one eyebrow cocked quizzically. "Everything all right?"

Her immediate instinct was to show him the letter, show him this bizarre thing . . . but no. She had to close down, temporarily, compartmentalize this so that if it were something dangerous, he and the others wouldn't be in jeopardy. "Yes, sir, everything's fine. It's just a letter."

For a long moment, he simply looked back at her, dark eyes gauging whether or not she had anything else to say. In that moment, Riza broke eye contact, moving around her desk to resume her seat, completely calm. In her peripheral, she was aware of him, still staring, for another few seconds before he gave up. Not that he couldn't attempt to pry it out of her later, if he wanted.

Putting her overprotective leader/lover out of her mind, Riza returned her attention to the thing inside the envelope. All that fell into her palm when she shook it out was a slim green leaf from some unidentified plant, withered and dried to a paper-like texture.

Feeling more confused than ever, and more than a little irritated with the apparent pointlessness of it all, she turned back to the letter itself. Whoever had signed it was going to be the first person she tracked down in a demand for answers.

Yet the moment her eyes found the signature, those thoughts vanished, as did any emotion except shock. Suddenly, Riza was very glad for the fact that she was sitting down.