The barracks had communal showers.

The men and the women were still separated into two different barracks, they always had been – the integrity of the Amestrian military wouldn't fall that far, not even in a time of war. It would have been more efficient, maybe, to combine the sexes, but the upper echelons had decided it was more important to preserve the morality of their soldiers. Besides, they wanted the soldiers to be focused on their duty alone, and they certainly didn't want to have to lose any of their women because of something as preventable as 'maternity leave.'

Despite this, Riza Hawkeye hated showering with others. They didn't shower often, but when they could they tended to do it in groups. She preferred to do it alone, when the others were all busy. It wasn't because she was self-conscious about her body. No, she had gotten over that fear long ago. Besides, the women here were kind and sisterly, and no one was about to ridicule her breasts or her hips. They weren't the cruel, venomous girls she had known as a teenager; these women were grown up and mature and they were soldiers, dammit, and that meant they were professionals.

She had managed all her life to hide her back from all but two men: her own father, and the Flame Alchemist himself, who used to trace the lines written on her back with his forefinger so delicately. And that was why she chose odd hours to shower. That was why she made up excuses to avoid going with other women, and that was why she always accepted her relief in the middle of the day, when everyone else was out and shooting, killing, doing what soldiers were supposed to do.

It was on one of these hot days where she may as well have been alone in the barracks that she chose to take a shower. The quality of the room and the showers wasn't the best, but it was as good as Amestris could manage under such conditions. The Ishbalans didn't even clean themselves, and their stench made them all the easier to find and exterminate.

She wanted to do this quickly, to get it over with. She hung her towel, creaked the handle of the shower and water started pumping over her. Her head was dusty; she had been lying with her face close to the ground for several hours. There was gunpowder on her hands. She scrubbed at herself with soap, trying to get rid of the smell. A film of sweat coated her entire body, and as she quickly rubbed her skin, dirt began to materialize. The water at her feet was black as it washed down the drain. At least there was no blood.

Her heart froze as she suddenly heard the sound of women's voices, coming closer and closer. She forced herself to relax. They weren't coming to the showers. She had time; she wasn't even clean yet.

A part of her knew that she didn't have any time and that they would walk into the showers too soon, but she was enjoying herself too much. The feel of cool water running down her body, cooling down her skin after the heat of the day and her uniform had overheated her…it was too good to leave.

And there they were. A motley group of girls, in all different shapes and sizes. There was a tall, dark-haired, thick one who was laughing and talking the loudest, the leader of the group. A tiny fiery-haired girl no older than Riza stood by the loud one's side, laughing shrilly. They took up half of the showers alone, including the one beside Riza. She wanted to turn around, face the wall and hide herself, but the urge not to let them see her back was stronger, so the front of her entire body was faced toward them, and Riza felt heat rise to her cheeks, despite the cold water.

The big, loud brunette grinned. "Well, would you look at that," she said, with a voice smoother than her appearance would suggest. "The Hawk's Eye has decided to grace us ordinary girls with her elite presence."

The other girls laughed. Riza ignored them. The water, it was still a murky brown when it hit the ground. She was still unclean. She felt like a teenager again, her fragile self-image being roughly handled in these girls' calloused hands. She didn't even know the name of this woman.

The loud one spoke again. "Not going to say anything?" she asked. "Ah, well, that's too bad. You know what they say about snipers."

No, Riza wanted to say. What do they say about snipers?

Instead, she said, "Please leave me alone."

She wondered if she could wait long enough for them to leave. Probably not. They were laughing at her again. Why? What had she done now? She raised her hands up to her head, scraping her scalp with her fingernails, removing caked on dirt and sweat. Without thinking, she shifted slightly, and the loud brunette said something. Riza didn't hear, because her head was under the spray of the shower, but when she ducked her head out of the water, she asked, "What?" because the woman was staring slightly at her side. Suddenly a thrill of fear shot through Riza's veins, and she turned so her back was facing the opening of the shower, away from all the girls.

"Is that what I think it is?" asked the loud woman slyly, a smirk on her face. Riza's hands scrambled to her lower back, to what she could touch of the ink on her back. She imagined she could feel the raised lines of the tattoo crisscrossing her back like scars, but that was only in her mind.

"I don't know what you're talking about," replied Riza quickly, her hands pressed to her back. The woman laughed at her, but it was more of a chuckle. There was less malice in her tone this time, and the glint in her eye looked furtive but not cruel.

She reached out and snatched Riza's arm like a snake. "Look at this, girls," said the woman. Riza was struggling to escape her grasp but the woman was bigger and stronger than she was, and she with another hand on Riza's other shoulder, the woman swung her around. "Looks like Little Miss Hawkeye here has a tramp st-"

She stopped talking, seeing the entirety of the tattoo. It wasn't just a cryptic symbol at the base of her spine; the twists and the words and the strange symbols almost went all the way up to her neck. The women were suddenly silent, staring at her back. The big woman let go of Riza and Riza instantly wrapped a towel around herself and left the showers, leaving the water running.

She dressed herself and went back out to the field. She took over the west post, and focused on nothing other than finding faces and shooting at the people on the ground, but the lines on her back were burning. Their stunned faces pressed against her mind, appearing whenever she closed her eyes. They couldn't know what it meant, but they knew that it wasn't normal. Nobody gets tattoos like that willingly, of all people, Riza would know that.

A few days pass and she avoids everyone. As a sniper, she can do that. The woman's voice plays over and over again in her head, though. You know what they say about snipers.

Eventually it happens, because she can't stay away from everyone forever. She was sitting on the small bed that was hers. She thought about writing a letter, but the only person she wanted to talk to was here as well, and he was too busy for a stupid, simple letter.

That was when the big, loud brunette sat down on Riza's bed. It was late. It was Riza's shift to try and get some sleep, and she hadn't known this woman had the same shift as she did. For a moment, Riza tried to ignore her.

"Hey," said the woman.

Nothing.

"Why did you leave so suddenly the other day?" asked the woman. "You never even explained your big-ass tattoo."

Riza looked at the bed, her arms wrapped around herself.

"Hey," said the woman again. "You don't have to explain yourself if you don't want to."

Riza looked up.

The woman had this smile on her face, like she couldn't believe she had to tell Riza this. "It's just some ink. You don't have to hide it from everyone. Sheesh, kid, if I'd known you'd just been hiding a tattoo this whole time I wouldn't have been so hard on you." The woman grinned. "My name's Jamie. It's an honor to meet you, by the way. It's always been a comfort to know the Hawk's Eye has been watching our backs."

The woman nodded to Riza, stood up and walked away.

Riza sat on her hard bed. After a while, she began to fall asleep.

Suddenly she sat bolt upright. In her hand was a folded and creased photograph of her and her father, years ago, when she was just a child. In the darkness, her heart beat loudly, the strangeness of what had just happened catching up with her.

She buried her face in her hands.

She had made a friend.

I'm seriously surprised no one's ever written something like this before. I've searched for it, but I have seen very little of the way Riza would deal with her tattoo in practical situations, such as the situation she would be in an army barrack in Ishbal.

Riza is obviously ashamed of her tatto. I think this would isolate her. I love her and I wrote this a while ago and hey, I might as well post it while you all wait patiently for the next chapter of Dead, if you don't hate me for the latest chapters already /: