#we get clarification on what happened here the next time we see Kaine but I just…personally find it really funny

[scarletspider2the2ndpower]

“You Say You Want an Evolution,” Scarlet Spider Unlimited (Vol. 1/1995), #1.

Writer: Glenn Herdling; Penciler: Tod Smith; Inker: John Nyberg; Colorist: Joe Andreani; Letterer: Clem Robins

[aquietwritingcorner]

Embers of Revelation

Author: RealityBreakGirl/aquietlearningcorner Word Count: 17582 Rating: T Prompt: FMA Big Bang 2021 Warnings: Child abuse/neglect Characters: Riza Hawkeye, Roy Mustang, Jean Havoc, Heymans Breda, Vato Falman, Kain Fuery, Black Hayate Pairing: Royai Genre: Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Family Chapter: 3 of 7 Summary: Tasked by Fuhrer Grumman to investigate a suspected alchemic incident, General Mustang’s team finds themselves stranded in Hawkeye’s hometown. Needing a place to stay, they find themselves taking shelter in her childhood home. However, her past can’t stay buried there, and as revelations come to light, they also bring embers of danger with them. Sequel to Embers in a Wounded Heart AO3 || ff.net

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Chapter 3

At some point, Havoc managed to fall asleep for a few hours. When the next morning came, it was without much sign of the dawn. The house itself seemed to be holding something heavy, and Havoc couldn’t shake that feeling. Still, he got on up. His legs were still killing him, but he refused to let them keep him in bed, not after what happened yesterday. Normally Breda slept through Havoc getting up, or at least rolled over and got back to sleep for a few minutes, but today he didn’t seem willing to, and instead got up with Havoc as well. Neither of them said a word, but Breda did keep an extra eye on Havoc, which Havoc couldn’t really blame him for. They made their way down the stairs together, Havoc stopping to look in the living room, Mustang was still there, reclined on some pillows, with Hawkeye still in his arms. Hayate was sleeping nearby them. Havoc and Breda exchanged a look, then both made their way to the kitchen, very quietly. Neither of them wanted to disturb Hawkeye, not after last night.

Fuery was already in the kitchen, it apparently being his turn on watch. He had a much-needed pot of coffee going, and both Havoc and Breda partook in it before helping with breakfast. It wasn’t long into the process of cooking breakfast that Falman joined them, apparently in the same boat as Havoc and Breda as far as sleeping in went. Falman stopped to look at the sleeping pair, and Fuery joined him for a second.  Havoc saw Fuery make a beckoning motion, and within moments Hayate was joining them in the kitchen.  Soon after the little dog was quietly eating on some leftovers seasoned with a little bacon grease while the other men quietly drank their coffee and ate. No one talked. No one spoke. Everyone kept silent. Finally, though, as they finished up, Falman broke the silence.

“How long do you think we should let them sleep for?” he asked, his voice still soft, almost muffled in the oppression that seemed to hang in the air, the sound of pouring rain adding to it.

“As long as they want to,” Breda said firmly. “After last night, they both need it.”

“Hawkeye especially,” Fuery said, looking down at his coffee. “The way she screamed and begged…” he trailed off. “It was haunting.”

Breda looked over at Havoc curiously. “Look, Hav, I’m not trying to pry, but when you and the captain and general were here last time, did you have any hint of this?”

Havoc frowned, and leaned back in his seat, trying to figure out just what to tell them. What would be too much, and what would be alright? Finally, he sighed and sat up straighter.

“The whole way here, on the train, in town, on the way to the house, Hawkeye gave Mustang the cold shoulder. No, it was more intense than that. It was like she was walking on the border between being angry and outright attacking him. Maybe not physically, but some sort of attack,” he said. “Anytime he tried to show her any compassion or worry, she had sharp words and would jerk away from them. He got really frustrated with it too, although he tried to be calm.”

He frowned. “There were a few times that stuck out, though, when Hawkeye either left, or when I though the two of them were about to come to blows. One time was when I started to ask if her father had taught the general Flame Alchemy. I didn’t even finish the sentence before she was out the door to check on the horses. Another was when the General asked her where her father would keep his notes, and she said something like ‘He never told me where he planned to put his notes. Sir.’ And I got the feeling that there was something a lot heavier to that. I never got clarification on what.”

He looked up at the men. “Mustang did keep looking after her, though. He made sure she wasn’t in her father’s bedroom alone. Her dad apparently died in it, while she was looking after him. And he sent her out of the study at one point and burned something he found after that. He never seemed to expect her to go in the basement. He was real squirrelly about me being down there too.”

“Actually,” he blinked. “It was after that, that things took a turn. Hawkeye disappeared, and we searched to find her. I found her on the roof, and she all but admitted that she used to come on the roof a lot as a child because it was hard to find her there. But while we were up there… well, she broke down on me. We talked a little, although no, she didn’t tell me much of anything, but after that she and the general seemed to patch it up.”

Havoc shook his head. “I don’t have any details on what her childhood was like, and even less on her father. But, well, from what I did learn, it seemed like Mustang was the only bright spot in her childhood, and that her father was a fan of harsh punishments.”

“…do you think that’s what went on in that basement?” Fuery asked, shifting uncomfortably in his chair. “Harsh punishments?”

“Even ‘harsh punishments’ shouldn’t leave someone with so much trauma attached,” Breda said. “Not trauma like that. This was… something more.”

“Something a lot more,” Havoc said with a frown. “This might explain a lot about her,” he said.

Falman’s brow furrowed. “I don’t want to analyze the captain too much, not without her permission, but…” he looked up at the other men. “It sounds to me as if Hawkeye was abused as a child. Even before… whatever that was.”

The others shifted uncomfortably, but none of them argued the point.

Finally, Havoc spoke as well. “I think she was also neglected. From the way she talked last time, it sounded like she didn’t always have food or maybe other things she needed.”

“So, he was a crap father all the way around.” Breda said.

“The only good thing I can say, is that Hawkeye told a story about when Mustang was first here, and she was a child swimming in the pond. Mustang stumbled on her, thought she was drowning, tried to rescue her, and Hawkeye thought he was after her. She socked him in the nose and ran back to the house screaming for her father. He apparently drew the line at that and was angry at Mustang until it was all worked out.” Havoc said.

“If the only good thing you can say about the man is that he protected his daughter from perverts, then that’s not saying much about him, since that’s basic,” Breda said. He ran a hand through his hair and cursed. “No wonder she was able to survive Ishval as well as she did. She already had the coping skills that other snipers didn’t.”

“Twice the trauma,” Fuery said.

“Or more,” Falman put in, “depending on what happened in that basement.”

“Yeah.”

The men fell silent and then, one by one, got up to attend to the chores for the day. They went through all of them quietly, not daring to wake either Mustang or Hawkeye.

When Mustang woke up, he didn’t leave the couch or Hawkeye, adamant about not leaving her. Hawkeye had really exhausted herself, Havoc figured, because it was nearing noon before she began to stir. Lunch was Fuery’s soup reheated, and they ate it in shifts, the men having unconsciously agreed that someone should be in there with Hawkeye and Mustang at all times, just in case. It was Havoc’s unofficial turn on watch, and he sat in the living room in a chair, reading a book while the fire crackled in the fireplace. He could hear Breda and Falman talking over plans for exploring and analyzing the basement, and Fuery working on cleaning up the kitchen. But when Hawkeye stirred, his attention snapped to her, and he signaled to Breda. Within moments all had fallen silent, the other three men hovering near the doorway, watching carefully.

“Riza?” Mustang said softly, and she let out a soft sigh and tried to turn over. Of course, being on a couch, she couldn’t, causing her to wake more. She blinked sleepily up at Mustang.

“Mm… Roy?” she said, her voice heavy with sleep and confusion.

“Yeah, I’m here,” he said gently. “I told you I wasn’t going to leave you.”

She blinked at him then, and then looked around confused. “Why are we on the couch?” she asked. “And…what’s going on?”

“You cried yourself to sleep on me,” he said. “And I promised I’d not leave you.”

Hawkeye looked around, and Havoc could see that she was still confused, especially when she saw the others gathered in the doorway. With the way they were looking at her, Havoc figured it was clear that something else besides just falling asleep on her commanding officer had happened.

“What’s… what’s going on?” she asked, and Havoc could see her tensing up.

“Riza,” Mustang redirected her attention to him, and Havoc took note that neither of them had moved off of each other. “What’s the year?”

“The… year?” Her brow furrowed, although Havoc thought it was more at the question then because f trying to remember the date. “It’s 1916,” she said.

“And do you know who each of these men are?” he questioned her.

“Yes,” she said, shooting him a strange look before redirecting her attention to each of them. “First Lieutenant Jean Havoc. First Lieutenant Heymans Breda. First Lieutenant Vato Falman. Master Sergeant Kain Fuery.” She named them all dutifully, but the question as to why he was asking her this was clear in her tone.

“Good,” he said. “Now—What do you remember about last night?”

“Last night?” The question seemed to surprise her more than the others, and Havoc saw her take a quick glance down herself, looking for injuries. Finding none, she seemed to refocus on the question. “I…” she paused. “I’m not sure. The last thing I remember was… Let’s see. I finished cleaning. There weren’t any more chores to be done. I thought I heard someone moving around, and I was about to see if it was Havoc. But then I saw that the basement door was open when it hadn’t been before, and something didn’t feel right. I called out for Havoc, but before I heard an answer, I was… I was pushed from behind, and into the basement,” her voice sounded surprised, and there was a trace of something Havoc didn’t want to hear in her voice. It sounded like fear. “I… I tried to get out, but it was locked. I couldn’t escape, and I—” She shuddered. There was definitely fear in her voice now, and in her body language too. “I… I couldn’t… I….” She trailed off, a hand coming up to cover her mouth, and Havoc could have sworn he heard her say something that sounded like “just like the last time” but he couldn’t be sure.

Mustang’s hand came up to stroke her hair. “Do you remember anything after that?” He asked her gently.

She shook her head and lowered her hand. “No. Just… panic. Nothing but panic.” She looked up at Mustang, glanced at the rest of them. “What happened to me?”

Msutang shook his head. “We’re still working some of that out,” he said. “But we really don’t know. What we do know is that when we got back from town you were missing. We found you in the basement and… Riza… you were deep in the throes of a flashback. We couldn’t break you out of it and drug you up here. You eventually recognized me, but thought I’d come back after your father kicked me out.”

She looked horrified. “I—I—” Havoc had never seen her at a loss for words like this, but she didn’t seem to know what to say. “A-and… did I…?”

She trailed off, glancing at him and the others, and there seemed to be something that she was unwilling to say. Havoc both desperately wanted to know what, but also didn’t want to invade her privacy. Still, what could she be hiding? It burned at him.

Mustang glanced at them as well, and then refocused back on her. “Not in so many words. But they know something happened down there. Something very bad.” She made a strange noise in the back of her throat and let her head fall into his chest. Mustang stroked her hair. “You don’t have to make any decisions now. But you will need to tell them something. I haven’t. It’s not my place.”

She sighed, and after a moment, turned her head from where it rested, looking at them with a bone-weary expression on her face and an old pain in her eyes. It was clear to Havoc that she wasn’t currently ready to tell them anything.

“…. Why don’t you let me get you something to eat or drink,” Fuery said, his voice full of kindness. “You both could use something.” Apparently, Havoc wasn’t the only one to see she wasn’t ready yet.

“Yes, thank you, Fuery,” Mustang said, then turned his attention back to Riza, murmuring to her, something too quiet for the rest of them to hear. She seemed to respond, although Havoc had no idea what she was saying.

That was alright by Havoc. They two of them probably needed some time to figure things out, especially now that Hawkeye was back to her senses—something that honestly relieved Havoc.

Mustang got Hawkeye to eat some of the soup that Fuery brought them, but she clearly didn’t have much of an appetite, and the bowl came back mostly untouched, to Fuery’s worried disappointment. Havoc saw Breda give the young man’s shoulder a squeeze at one point. All of them wanted to do something to help, although no one was quite sure what. Mustang and Hawkeye stayed in the living room most of the afternoon, quietly talking things over. No one bothered them. Going in there almost felt like an intrusion to Havoc, and it wasn’t hard to tell that the others agreed.

Around supper time, Mustang managed to cajole Hawkeye upstairs for a shower, although she still looked shaken to Havoc’s eyes. Nothing else to be done, Havoc reheated Fuery’s soup again, and soon the four of them were eating supper. Footsteps caught their ears and Havoc looked up when Mustang appeared in the kitchen. He looked serious and grim as his eyes traveled over all of them. “When you’re finished,” he said, “come to the living room. She’s decided to tell you.”

With that he left, and Havoc exchanged looks with the others. The question of what, exactly, she was going to tell them hung over Havoc’s head, and, with her reaction, he wasn’t quite sure if he even wanted to finish dinner. Uneasy looks passed between all of them, assuring Havoc it wasn’t only him that was feeling uneasy about this. They all knew that Hawkeye had trauma. But it was one thing when it was war. It was another when it was a deep, traumatizing, childhood secret of a close friend, and it didn’t seem to sit well with anyone else either.

As they finished eating, they cleaned up the food, and Fuery took the time to fix a cup for tea before they left.

“For Riza,” he said softly, and Havoc couldn’t really fault him for that. She probably could use it no matter what.

They filed into the living room, Hawkeye and Mustang sitting once again on the couch. Havoc sat in a nearby chair, and the other men settled in as well. Hawkeye was in fresh clothes, this time what looked to be a button down of Mustangs, a blanket wrapped around her shoulders. Her hair was down, still looking a little damp. Mustang was right beside her, a hand on her arm. The rain outside poured in a steady sound, the fire crackled in the fireplace. The room almost had a feel of a confession to it, and it made Havoc uncomfortable.

Fuery handed Hawkeye the mug of tea before sitting down, and she took it with a murmured thanks, wrapping her hands around it, although she didn’t take a sip of it. And then, they waited.

And finally, Riza spoke.

“My father,” she said, the words feeling heavy, “was an alchemist. This you already know.”

It was something that they knew, but somehow this pronunciation of it seemed heavier to Havoc, as if there was a weight to it.

“I have few early memories of him. I think he loved me at one point, because I do remember him playing with me. But that all changed when mother died.”

No one said a word. Everyone was listening too closely. Havoc found it almost hard to breathe.

“When I was four, my mother died. I don’t remember her, not really. Just… associations. Music. Light. Laughter. Hugs. Flowers. Happiness. After she died, none of that existed anymore. Father threw himself into his work, and I was left behind. I often had to fend for myself, and I learned to take care of myself. Father didn’t care about me anymore.”

She turned the mug in her hands, her eyes staring at it, but not really seeming to see it. “I mentioned that when I broke that plate, I got my first thrashing. I was five. Father had been on a research bender. When he emerged from his study to find that, he was enraged. I couldn’t sit down for days without pain. That, I remember clearly.”

Havoc felt his jaw set. Breda was on the stool next to him, and Havoc could see the other man tense, although there was still a waiting look in his eyes. A realization entered Havoc’s mind. This wasn’t what had her begging in the basement for her father to stop. The thought made him sick. It had to be something worse than that, but what else could it be? Dark possibilities whispered at the corners of his mind. Whether he wanted to know or not, Havoc was going to find out what happened.

Riza continued. “I learned over the years to avoid my father after his research bends. He was always more volatile then. I also learned to fend for myself, to stay quiet, and not to bother father. He was a frightening man. I took care of the house, and of myself, and father took care of his studies. That was how we coexisted.”

She paused, looking down into the tea again. “Money was… sparse. We often did without. I learned to hunt, forage, and grow food. I traded up for chickens and a goat. I sold whatever I could just so we would have a little money that father wouldn’t completely spend on alchemy supplies. It was never enough, though.

One day, father started to take on apprentices. I quickly learned to avoid them, and that most of them wouldn’t last long. They never did. And then, one day, he took on a boy named Roy Mustang. To my surprise, he lasted.”

Havoc switched his attention to look up at Mustang. He could see him sitting there tightlipped, unhappy. He clearly wanted to do something, although what that something was, Havoc didn’t know. It honestly looked like Mustang himself didn’t know.

“Roy grew to be my father’s most talented pupil, and he wanted to share the secrets of his research with him—the secrets of Flame Alchemy.”

It wasn’t as if it wasn’t something that they hadn’t all guessed, but to hear Riza say that her father was the one who evented Flame Alchemy felt like a huge secret had just been dropped in their laps. There was some uncomfortable shifting, and Havoc exchanged a brief look with Breda.

“However,” she continued, “Roy made the decision to join the military instead and father, incensed, disavowed him and kicked him out. After that, father locked himself into the basement, and threw himself into his research in a frenzied way like I’d never seen before. I was afraid that he was going to die down in that basement.”

She paused to take in a breath, and then to swallow, and Havoc tensed up. Bad things were coming. He could feel it.

“I was on the verge of figuring out how to get down to him myself, when he finally opened the door and half collapsed on the stairs. I thought he was dead, and it frightened me, but some water and food revived him. Then he asked me a question that I thought I’d never hear: ‘My Riza, do you want to help me with my work? Can I trust you with it?’ and I, astonished at this, said yes.”

She let out a sardonic laugh and Havoc saw her hands tighten on the mug. “He wanted me. Me! He never wanted me. I was little more than a nuisance to him on a good day. But now he wanted me to help him with his research? He wanted to trust me with it? Of course, I said yes.”

Something about the way she said that sounded like a death sentence, but Havoc didn’t have time to focus on that, not when she was continuing.

“A couple of days later, he took me down to the basement, and he shut the door behind us.”

Havoc stilled.

“He sat me down on the table and gave me something to drink.”

His breath caught.

“It left me feeling groggy and tingly and out of it. And then he had me take off my shirt.”

Dread filled his chest, and the shake her voice made it worse.

“Once that was done, he had me lay down, with my bare back to him. He secured me in place with those ropes.”

Her voice was trembling, and Havoc felt his stomach roll.

“And then he began to draw on my back.”

Havoc blinked. What? What? That—that wasn’t what he was expecting. But from the catch in Hawkeye’s voice, there was something more serious about this then he realized—then any of them realized.

“For hours he drew out his array in perfect detail on my back. And then—”

She cut herself off and, after a pause, sat the untouched tea down. Her face was pained, and no one knew what she was about to do. She turned away from them, letting the blanket drop, and began to unbutton her shirt. Havoc knew he should look away, protect her privacy. He felt like he shouldn’t see whatever it was about to see, that it was something forbidden and dark. But he didn’t. He couldn’t. When her shirt dropped and her back was exposed, he felt his blood run cold and his stomach wanted to expel everything it had ever eaten. In horror, he looked over at the others, each of them looking just as horrified, none of them expecting this.

How could they have?

Covering her back, from the bottom of her neck past the small of her back, and stretching from side to side was a large, intricate, red tattoo, one that was clearly a more complicated version of Mustang’s array. And it was marred by heavy scars.

Her voice shook as she spoke, her back still facing them. “He began tattooing it on my back. I was fifteen, and he was my father. It hurt, it was painful, but I thought—I thought—”

Her voice broke, and they could see her shoulders shaking. “I thought he would love me,” She finally continued, and her voice broke Havoc’s heart. “I thought I was baring a great honor for him. I thought it was something that I could finally do for him. But he never cared for me, just his research and his array. I was still nothing to him, and there was nothing I could do about it. And there was nothing I could do to stop it from happening.”

There was bitterness in her voice, but also tears, and Havoc’s heart, broken thought it was, twisted inside him for her.

“About a year after it was completed, he died. Roy came back, and… I thought… I showed him the array, and he studied it. We thought we could help people with it. But… Ishval happened and I…”

It was clear that her emotions were getting the better of her, but she forged on, shaking her head. “I was the barer of flame alchemy,” her voice was shaking, but hard. It was emotional, but determined. “I chose who to give it to. And after that I swore that there would be no more flame alchemists. I asked Roy to burn it off of me. There could be no more flame alchemists. There couldn’t—I wouldn’t—”

A breath that sounded more like a sob escaped her, and she stopped talking. Her arms wrapped around herself as her shoulders shook, and Havoc could see her fingers digging into her elbows. Only her not-sobs, the pouring rain, and the crackling of the fire made any noise. No one knew what to say or what to do. It certainly explained a lot. It explained why Mustang and Hawkeye were so close. It explained why She was always wearing high necked things and refusing to wear things that showed her back. It explained why she always wore those turtlenecks under her uniform. It explained why she chose to stay with Mustang, so she could keep an eye on the flame alchemy that she had given him.

It’s explained her breakdown in the basement earlier, and why that place affected her the way it did.

The silence stretched, and finally Havoc, unable to stand it any further, pushed himself to his feet. He felt all eyes, except for Hawkeye’s, follow him. He ignored them, only focused on the woman in front of him. Without a word, he came to sit beside Hawkeye, on the other side of her, and reached out to her.

“Let’s get you put back together,” he said quietly, kindly, gently, as he reached out for the shirt. He carefully pulled it up and over her shoulders, guiding her arms back into it and doing up the buttons on it.

“Riza—listen carefully. We love you. We care about you. It doesn’t matter about your past or what you did, or how scared you were then. We still care about you.”

He reached up to gently pull her hair out of the collar line of the shirt.

“Thank you for explaining this to us. You’ve been through a lot more then I could have ever imagined, and at the hands of someone who should have fought to protect you, not sought to harm you. And what he did was harm. It harmed your mind and it harmed your body. But listen, Ri—you’ve got something so much better than that now. You’ve got us. And We’re not going to let anyone hurt you, or use you again, alright? I need you to believe and trust that. Can you?”

Hawkeye’s eyes were locked on his, tears glistening in her eyes. “You’d still… after all of…” she seemed to be struggling for words. “…You don’t think less of me?”

It was honestly not a question he had even considered, and she deserved to know as much. “Never, Riza,” he said. “I think you’re stronger than I ever imagined you were.”

She looked at him, a strange vulnerability in her eyes, something that made Havoc think about his young nieces and nephews, when they knew they had done something wrong that they were sorry for and were waiting for confirmation that they were still loved. Havoc was struck, then, that this was a glimpse into child-Riza, waiting to hear that someone, somewhere, cared about her, herself, who she was, and without condition. It was something that never received then.

Havoc would give it to her now.

“I could never think less of you, Riza.”

They were honest words, spoken as honestly as he could say them. He could tell that she believed him, but she still looked out at the others, uncertainty in her eyes.

No one in the team showed the slightest hesitation in what they said.

Breda nodded and stood, taking a couple of steps closer to her. His hand rested on her shoulder. “It makes me think less of your father. But you? Never, Riza.”

Falman stood as well, coming closer. “Few people could survive what you did as intact as you are. I’m amazed. It makes me think more of you.”

Fuery was already on his feet, crossing over to them, reaching out to take her hand. “Nothing could make me think less of you. I’m in awe, if anything.”

She blinked at them, as if surprised, and looked over to Mustang, who just smiled at her. Havoc squeezed her hand, and her gaze turned back to him.

“You were hurt, Riza, and we can’t do anything about that,” he said. “But you are loved and cared about and valued for who you are now. We’re your family, Riza, and nothing will change that. Nothing at all.”

She was shaking under their hands, as her face started to crumple. She raised a hand to her eyes as she could no longer contain her tears. But these tears, they had the feel of something cleansing, something good. Havoc reached out, and pulled her close, like he had that night on the roof, and let her cry herself out on him again. When she was finished, she wiped at her eyes. They were red, her cheeks splotchy, her hair a bit messy, but Havoc didn’t care. He didn’t think anyone did.

“Th-thank you,” she said to them, emotion still in her voice. “I… thank you.”

For a moment there was silence, until Mustang softly spoke up. “it’s late,” he said. “And it’s been a long day. Why don’t we all go to bed?”

No one objected, and one at a time they took their turn for the shower. Havoc was toweling off his hair when he passed by Riza’s room. He glanced in, and saw her sitting on the bed by herself, that stuffed yellow rabbit in her hands. Havoc figured that Mustang must be in the shower. He wouldn’t have left her alone otherwise. Still, Havoc didn’t say anything. He knew that Riza was aware of him. But he wasn’t going to push his presence on her. Instead, he stood in the doorway, waiting for her to either acknowledge him or for Mustang to come back. He could be patient either way.

“You know,” she said after a few moments, “I don’t think you know how much your words meant to me.” Her voice was soft in a way that Havoc seldom heard it. “I’m, in general, a confident adult. But there are still things that get to me, or that crop up no matter how many years have passed.” She paused again, her fingers rubbing the ears of that that rabbit. “I often feel like I have to prove myself or earn my place—earn that people care about me. I know I don’t, but I still feel that way. I tried to prove myself to Father all my life. I let him brand me, thinking that it would earn me his love. But nothing was ever good enough.”

She looked up at him. “…you love so easily. And what you and the men said tonight… You saw me weak, at probably my weakest, and yet…” she looked back down at the rabbit. “… it means more then you know, what you all said.”

His heart ached for her, and he walked in sitting beside her on the bed. For a moment, he didn’t say anything either, gathering his words. “You shouldn’t have to earn anyone’s love, Riza,” he said, “but you never have to earn mine. I’m certain that you never have to earn the other guys’ love either.” He put an arm around her shoulders and pulled her in, giving her a kiss on the head, similar to that night on the roof. “I don’t know if it’s still hard for you to accept or not, but we do love you. Nothing you do will take that away, alright? Nothing in your past, nothing at all.”

She sighed and leaned into him. “I’ll try my best to remember that.”

“We’ll remind you,” he said. “As much as you need it.”

She said nothing, but just stayed leaning against him. Havoc didn’t say anything either, just let them both be. They stayed that way until Mustang came back, and then Havoc left them together. He saw Mustang reaching out to her, and her curling into his arms as he shut the door. Good. They were what each other needed tonight.

Havoc made his way down the hall towards the room he and Breda were sharing, pausing at the stairs. Falman and Fuery were already in their room. Did he hear something? He paused to listen again, but heard nothing, and so shrugged and went on. This place was old and drafty, and Hayate was somewhere down there. He was probably just hearing the dog.

Havoc kept going and entered their room, shutting the door and changing. Breda was already in the bed, although it was clear he wasn’t asleep. Havoc didn’t think anything of it, and so was startled when Breda’s voice, quiet, but intense, broke their silence.

“Did you know?” he asked.

“Know what?” Havoc said.

“About… about all of that. What we learned tonight.” Breda said.

Havoc shook his head and sat on the bed. “No. Not at all. I suspected that her father was abusive and neglectful, but I never thought about something like that.”

“Who would have thought about something like that?” Breda spat out.

“Her father, apparently,” Havoc replied.

“Yeah.” They both fell quiet, and then Breda spoke again, his voice full of anger. “How?” he said. “How could he do that? And to his own daughter? Just treat her like—like—like a notepad! Like some sort of journal, he could lock away!” He was struggling not to explode in anger, and Havoc couldn’t really blame him. “She was his daughter! And he took advantage of her, mutilated her for his own good! What did he think was going to happen to her? She’d never be able to do so many things. What if she got married one day? How was she supposed to explain that to her husband?”

“Do you really think he would have just let her get married?” Havoc said. “If he did, it probably would have been just to someone he knew, or maybe even an apprentice, and all it would have been, was an arranged marriage. She’d have been just as used.”

Breda’s jaw worked. “You’re right,” he said. “And none of this is right. I just—” he shook his head. “I don’t know what to think, Hav. This whole thing…”

“Yeah,” Havoc agreed, and sighed heavily. “I think… I think it’s one of those things we’re just going to have to acknowledge and figure out how to deal with. There’s nothing we can do to change it.”

Breda was silent, and then just shook his head, rolling over. “It’s amazing she’s as adjusted as she is,” he said, and that seemed to be the end of the conversation for him.

Havoc didn’t push, but he couldn’t help but turn thoughts over in his own head that night as he struggled for sleep.

The next day, when Havoc woke and went downstairs, he wasn’t surprised to find Hawkeye down there already, working on breakfast. She looked at him, a little uncertain, but he just gave her an easy smile. “Hey, Ri,” he said. “What’s for breakfast this morning?”

That seemed to put her at ease, and she turned back to the food. “The usual. Eggs, Bacon, biscuits, coffee.”

“Whatcha need help with?” he asked.

“If you could start on the bacon, that would be helpful,” she replied.

He eased into helping her, starting on the bacon, and when Fuery came down a little bit later he jumped right into helping them out. The more normal they seemed to act, the more at ease Hawkeye seemed to become. Every time someone new came down the stairs, Havoc saw her tense a little, as if she expected something from them. Every time they treated her normally, she seemed to relax a little more. By the time Mustang came down the stairs, she was pretty much at ease.

Breakfast was an easy affair, giving them all time to relax and wake up. It couldn’t last, though, not with everything that needed to be talked about. Havoc glanced around the cleared off table where they were all sitting. Hawkeye and Mustang were sitting on one side, side by side. Breda was across from them, serious. Havoc set beside his best friend, leaning back in his chair even as Fuery and Falman took places at the ends. It was clear that Breda was going to take command of this questioning, even if it was equally as clear that he didn’t want to interrogate Hawkeye or Mustang. The need couldn’t be denied, though, which they all understand from a tactical point of view.

“Alright, first things first,” Breda said, focused on Hawkeye. “I know that you said that Mustang burned off the most important information, but how much can still be gained from your tattoo, if someone got ahold of it?”

Havoc could hear then implied “of you,” in the question, but, just like Breda, he shied away from that thought.

Hawkeye glanced at Mustang, who was the one who answered. Havoc supposed that made sense. Mustang would have more of an alchemic knowledge and was the one to burn the tattoo.

“Depends on the alchemist,” he said. “It would have to be a highly trained alchemist. Most of what I left were either common or things that people have come up with in the past. The part that draws them together into flame alchemy isn’t there.” His eyes met Breda’s staying steady, although the slight movement of his arm told Havoc that he was holding Hawkeye’s hand under the table. “If someone had the information that’s still on Hawkeye’s back, had access to some of the rare books here, and had the time to study it, then they might be able to figure out flame alchemy. However, there would have to be a lot of things come together for someone to understand what I left.”

Breda nodded. “Alright.” His eyes returned to Hawkeye. “The burns. Do they cause you any physical problems?”

Havoc shifted his eyes to Hawkeye. “They can get tight,” she said, “And painful. I have a special lotion I rub into them, but it’s hard to do it myself. The scars are hard to reach due to their positioning. Roy helps me with it sometimes, and occasionally someone else that knows about it does as well.” She paused. “The deepest parts of the burns, near the center, don’t have any feeling. It’s never been a problem before, but it is something to note. And there is a small amount of contracture that happened when the burns healed. I’m slightly less flexible on my left side then I am on my right, although it’s never caused me any real problems.”

Breda nodded. “Alright. One more question. You said that there were others who know. Who? And are they trustworthy?”

“Yes,” Hawkeye said, and there was no hesitation in her voice. “Rebecca Catalina knows,” she said. Havoc found himself surprised, although he supposed that he shouldn’t have been. “She and I were roommates and the academy. She found out then and kept it a secret for me. Maes Hughes knew. He found out on the battlefield. Roy’s aunt knows. She found out when Roy burned me and helped to care for me while I was healing. Dr. Knox knows as well. He helped to provide care after the burning as well as a few times in Ishval.”

They were grisly answers, at least to Havoc’s mind, but Breda just nodded. “Alright. Thank you, Hawkeye.” He paused. “You… will tell Catalina that we know, won’t you.” It wasn’t a question.

She nodded, a hint of a smile playing on her lips. “Of course. If I didn’t, and she found out that you knew, she’d be likely to shoot you first and ask questions later.”

She wasn’t wrong about that. “Well,” Havoc said, “you’ve got four more people to watch your back now—pun not intended,” he added at Breda’s dirty look. “Anything that we need to know about what we can do for you?”

Hawkeye gave him a grateful smile and paused, turning it over in her mind. “If I’m desperate, I might ask one of you to help put the lotion on my scars. But for the most part, just make sure that my back stays covered up. I don’t want to show this off, I don’t want to hint at it. The few times someone’s managed to catch a glimpse, I’ve been able to brush it off as scars from the war that I don’t want to talk about, but I’d rather not rely on that too much. I don’t want anyone to think there’s anything on my back. So, if something happens to my shirt, please just make sure that my back stays covered.”

She looked around at all of them, and they nodded. Havoc couldn’t speak for the others, but he’d literally take the shirt off of his back for her. The questioning wasn’t over, though, and Havoc could see it in Breda’s face. He braced himself for more questions that he really wished didn’t have to be asked.

“Another pressing question. How did you end up in the basement?” Breda asked.

They all stilled at that question, looking over at Hawkeye, who had her brow furrowed. “I’ll be honest. The panic that followed afterwards has dulled a lot of the memory. What I told you yesterday is still what I remember. I heard something and wondered if it was Havoc or Hayate. The basement door was open, and I went to close it and I was pushed. I tried to get out, but I couldn’t. I tried pushing on the door, and then I went down into the basement to try to find something to help me, but I was already starting to panic by then.” Her brow furrowed as she thought. “I remember that I didn’t see anything that could, but after that everything turns into a haze of panic and distress and memories.” There was a slight note of something in her voice, and Havoc saw Mustang’s other hand come over to hold hers, to provide some stability.

Hawkeye took a couple of breaths, trying to regain control, and Havoc wished there was something that he could do. After a few moments, she looked back up at them, her eyes serious. “This could be wrong, and just my panic playing tricks on me, but… I almost feel like there was someone down there with me. I can’t tell you who it was, or even if it was real, but it might be relevant.”

“Yeah, it might be,” Breda said. He glanced at Falman. “Falman and I went back to look at the lock after you had calmed. Mustang had taken it out of the door and wall with alchemy. The whole mechanism as out and we could see it clearly. It was locked from both sides.”

“Both sides?” Hawkeye said, shocked.

“That explains why I couldn’t get it open,” Mustang said, although his grip tightened on Hawkeye’s hand

“But that doesn’t make sense,” Hawkeye said. “I wouldn’t have locked myself in there, and there’s no other way in or out of the basement.”

Breda leaned forward. “Are you sure, Hawkeye?” he asked. “We got to thinking about it, and there is no outer entrance to your basement. Given the age of the house, there should be.”

“Actually,” Falman said. “Given the era I think that this house was built in, as well as its size and clearly former stateliness, there should not only have been an outer entrance to your basement, but also a fireplace to help funnel heat up and into the rest of the house. I did some looking around, and I think the possibility of it once having been there exists.”

Both Hawkeye and Mustang blinked at Falman in surprise. Then, abruptly, Hawkeye stood up. “Come with me,” she said and, although it was directed at Falman, Havoc found himself curious enough to follow.

He wasn’t the only one, and then all followed her up the backstairs and to the attic. She only stopped to grab a lamp so that they would be able to see. Once there she handed the lamp off to Fuery and began rummaging through things.

“What are you looking for?” Havoc asked her.

“The last time we were up here, do you remember a large cache of papers and documents? Some were in document tubes. We had to look through them for alchemy notes.”

Havoc blinked. “Yeah, I do. I think…” he moved to help her. “I think we put them somewhere over here.”

She nodded, and they started rummaging through things. Finally, after a moment, she came up with a portfolio that had what seemed to be photographs, papers, and other things stuffed into it, as well as a couple of document tubes.

“This,” she said, “is a collection of items about the house. I don’t know if there are any blueprints in here, but titles, deeds, work orders, photographs, and paintings exist in all of this. Apparently, before my father, if not before my grandfather, the Hawkeyes were fairly conscientious about money. I never had any reason to look at these before, but now maybe…”

Falman looked eager to get his hands on the documents “Can we take them downstairs?” he asked. “There’s more room down there. We can go over them down there and see what we can learn.”

“Of course,” Hawkeye said, and Falman reached and took some of the load from her.

“So if there is an entrance down there, how come we never saw it?” Fuery asked, holding the lamp he had been given up so everyone could see.

“It could have been sealed up a long time ago,” Falman offered.

“But then how come we haven’t seen any recent signs of it?” he pressed.

Mustang was rubbing his chin. “I want to go over that basement with a fine-toothed comb.” He looked over at Hawkeye. “I also want to start a watch. We’ll start standing guard at night to see if anything happens. Fuery,”

“Yes sir?” Fuery asked.

“Get that phone connected. I want a line of communication open and available, just in case.” Mustang said.

“Yes, sir!” Fuery said.

Mustang glanced at the rest of the men. “As for us—try not to go anywhere alone. Make sure that someone knows where you’re going to be at all times.” He looked at Falman. “Either take someone with you when you go out to do your observations, or make sure someone knows exactly where you’re going to be and when you plan to be back.” He looked at Havoc and Hawkeye. “Make sure that you two are careful when you go out to hunt.” He focused in on Hawkeye. “We don’t know if this was a targeted attack, or if Hawkeye just happened to be in the way, but I’m not taking any chances. We’re going to act as if there’s the chance of an enemy in our midst. I want you all to be careful. Do you understand me?”

There was a collective straightening and saluting, followed by heels snapping together. “Sir!” they all responded.

Havoc knew that he, for one, was going to be watching over Hawkeye carefully.

Orders given, Falman and Hawkeye poured over the items in what they had brought down from the attic, searching for any indication of an outer door to the basement, that the basement had once been bigger, or that there had been a fireplace in the basement at one point. Fuery immediately started the inside work that would be needed for the phone, while Mustang, Breda, and Havoc went down into the basement to start searching.

Havoc was not happy to be back in that basement. Unlike the first time, when Mustang had been squirrelly about him being down there, he instead let him look over anything without complaint. Havoc knew the story of it now, and it made him uncomfortable. He looked at the table, not able to see it or the rings in it the same way now. Knowing that a teenaged Hawkeye had been drugged and strapped down to that table by her father, and then tattooed for hours on end—and it had to have been hours, looking at that tattoo. That was not a one session thing. That took many sessions and lots of hours—it made him feel a little sick. He glanced at Breda, who was looking at the table in a similar way, his jaw set into a grim line.

Still, Mustang was managing to focus in and get to work down here, which couldn’t have been easy for the man, considering the woman he loved had been essentially tortured and branded in this basement. So, if he could do that, then Havoc would manage for Hawkeye as well—Even if he was disgusted by the idea of everything that happened down here and wanted to burn it all down.

“So, what are we looking for, Boss?” Havoc asked, forcing the question out of his mouth.

Mustang didn’t bother to look at him, examining the room instead. “Any signs of alchemy. That’s the only way I can think that someone would have gotten in and out of here so quickly and without leaving any signs. Either that, or there’s a hidden door, but I don’t think that’s as likely.”

Havoc noted, he didn’t say that it was impossible. “Got it. Although it’s going to be hard considering all the alchemy you did down here last time while we were looking for that research.”

Breda glanced at him, startled, but didn’t say anything.

“Yeah,” Mustang said. “But we’ve got to try. Look to see if there’s disrupted patterns to the alchemic marks that were left behind. That might indicate newer alchemy.

“Got it.”

They fell quiet, each man looking over and examining the walls. Havoc honestly wasn’t sure how they would have missed anything as big as a false wall or a hidden door last time, considering the way that Mustang had gone over the walls, but something had happened down here. They had to look.

After a few minutes of silence, Mustang spoke up.

“So… you know Hawkeye’s secret now.” He didn’t even glance at them. “What are you going to do about it?”

“I’m going to regret that her father’s not alive so I can punch him in the face,” Breda said rather bluntly. Not that Havoc could blame him. He’d like to punch her father too.

“Since I can’t do that, I suppose I’ll do what I can to support Hawkeye,” Havoc said. “It answered some questions about why she’s so careful about her back and all. I just thought it was some weird modestly thing, but now I get it.” He wished it was just some weird modesty thing, honestly.

“…What would someone do?” Breda asked. “If they found out, I mean. Could they really gain any knowledge from it?”

Mustang paused in his examination. “About flame alchemy itself? No, not without it being intact, not easily. A skilled alchemist could probably figure a great deal of it out. I have no doubt that the Elrics could, if they wanted to, for example. But not every alchemist could get enough information off of it. It’s not slight against his intelligence, but I don’t think that Armstrong could, or even Marcoh. It’s… complicated. Complex. It’s not something easily arrived at, or even easily grasped. For Master Hawkeye to have developed it at all…” Mustang shook his head. “It’s truly amazing. Unfortunately, it’s only in retrospect that I understood why he was so against me having it if I was going to be in the military.”

“What was he like?” Havoc asked. “Her father, I mean.”

Mustang frowned and crouched to look at a spot on the wall. “He was taller than she is, with slightly darker hair that hung in his face. He had a hooked nose, and cold, cold eyes. He was pale from being inside all the time. And he was exacting. Demanding. If you didn’t meet his standards, he was ready to get rid of you. He had little use for people that didn’t meet his standards.”

He paused. “He was a cold man as well. Praise from him was hard-won, and he was not a patient man. The only thing he cared about was alchemy, and there were days where he would focus on nothing else, writing and researching in a mad frenzy.”

He looked up at them from where he had crouched. “If you’re asking how he treated Riza when she was young, harshly is putting it lightly. He never cared when she came with bruises or cuts. He never helped her with her work. He expected that she keep the house in good order and have food ready to go. He expected that she would get high marks in school. Once, when she came home with mediocre marks, he hit her face hard enough to bruise, called her stupid, and told her that if she was going to be too stupid to do alchemy, then she should at least be smart enough to do well with the lesser knowledge they were teaching her in school. She worked herself even harder after that to try to bring her grades up. They came up, but he never praised her, never acknowledged her. The most he did was not hit her.”

Breda cursed under his breath, and Havoc shook his head. “Roy…” he said slowly, falling back on informality, “when we were here last time, you sent Ri out of the upstairs study, and then you burned a piece of paper. You said that there was nothing good to be found there. What was on that piece of paper?”

Mustang’s tensed, his face hardened, and his jaw worked, but after a moment, he finally spoke. “It was a formula,” he said, “for human transmutation. But it used another soul to pay the toll to bring someone back. And it was designed to use a child.”

Havoc’s blood ran cold and Breda dropped what he was doing.

“Wait a minute,” Breda said. “Are you saying—are you saying that her father—”

Mustang’s jaw clenched. “I am. He had a formula worked out for how he would sacrifice his own daughter’s life, her soul, to bring back his wife.”

Both Breda and Havoc looked at Mustang, horror on their faces. Havoc knew what it meant to do a human transmutation. They all knew the costs and the consequences. It was horrible enough on its own. But to use a living person as the toll for someone else’s life, and for that someone to be his own daughter? It was unthinkable.

Breda cursed aloud this time, and Havoc felt his stomach turn. He might just go out the barn after this and smoke, just because he didn’t know how else to react to this information.

“Does she know?” he finally asked.

Mustang shook his head. “No. Or if she does, she’s never said anything. But I refuse to be the one to tell her. For all of the awful things he did, he was still her father, and she was still loyal to him. She still wanted his love, and there’s a part of her that still wishes she had had it, even though she knows what a terrible person he was. I’m not going to destroy the last hope she has by showing her something that proves how worthless she was to him. I can’t do that to her.”

Havoc wished he had something to stick in his mouth. A toothpick, a piece of hay, anything. “Yeah,” he said. “I get that.”

“We won’t say a word,” Breda said.

Mustang just nodded, and they got back to work. But Havoc, for all of his shock, could see the weariness in Mustang’s movements, and the outright anger in Breda’s. He himself was angry, but it was overridden by a deep sorrow. How lonely must little Hawkeye’s life had been, with a father that thought of her as little more then something to be used?

Havoc didn’t have any kids of his own, but he had plenty of nieces and nephews. He loved every single one of them and he’d do anything to protect them. He’d give up his legs again to protect them. He’d have protected them from his wheelchair, if the need had arisen! And they were just his nieces and nephews. An important relationship to be sure, but not as important as parent and child. He couldn’t imagine doing anything to hurt them. How could Hawkeye’s father have been so cruel as to treat his own daughter as a consumable? How could he have only seen her as something to use?

Underneath her hard exterior, Hawkeye had a gentle heart. It was soft, and forgiving, and full of care and love. He could imagine a little Hawkeye with shinning eyes and a big smile running up to her father with all the love in the world for him. With gifts and trinkets and all of the things that kids do. What would she have been like, if he had just loved her in return? If that gentle heart of hers had been allowed to bloom and grow? If it hadn’t been stomped on by her father, by other people, by Ishval? Where would her steely resolve, compassion, and gentle heart have taken her?

How? How could her father have done all of this to her?

Havoc had to get his mind off of all of this, or he’d end up marching straight up the stairs and hugging Hawkeye right now. She wouldn’t like it. She wasn’t normally too opposed to hugs, and he had a bit of a pass, being a pretty close friend and all, but she’d know that this one came from the knowledge of her childhood, and she’d take it as more of an insult then as compassion. She didn’t want to be pitied, and he couldn’t blame her for that. Not when it was obvious that she fought so hard to survive and to make her own path in the world. He wouldn’t take that away from her.

So, instead of going upstairs to make Hawkeye feel upset with him, and with herself, he turned his attention back to the task at hand—namely, looking for any signs of either a hidden door, or of alchemy that would indicate that someone had been through here recently. So far, he wasn’t having any luck, but that didn’t mean that there wasn’t something that they had overlooked last time.

He knew the signs of alchemy. He’d been alchemist adjacent for so long that by now he ought to have learned something of it. It didn’t mean that he always caught things, or that there weren’t things he just didn’t know to look for, but he wasn’t incompetent. However, he knew that it would honestly be best if Mustang went over the area with a more critical gaze after he finished. He and Breda knew that was what they were here for anyway. They were the first level of search. Mustang would be the next level. It only made sense.

It did make him wonder, though, that, if Hawkeye could stand it down here, if it wouldn’t be better fpr her to help search. She had an above average amount of knowledge. He’d seen her correct the Elrics on simple mistakes before, or act as an intelligent sounding board for them. She had plenty of alchemic knowledge of her own. It all begged another question.

“Say—why isn’t Riza an alchemist?” he asked, still working as he did. “She’s got a good knowledge base for it, right?”

He didn’t turn around or stop, and it sounded like neither of the others did either. He wasn’t sure if it was because they were trying to get through as quickly as possible, or because they were all avoiding emotions.

“She’s got a knowledge base that is well above average,” Mustang said. “She can follow the basics of a lot of high-level alchemy, sometimes more. But except what I taught her, none of that was taught to her. It’s what she’s picked up here and there along the way. It got a lot of gaps and holes in the practical application of it.”

“Yeah, but why?” Havoc pressed. “If all her father cared about was alchemy, I’d think that she’d want to become an alchemist, or that he’d have taught her.”

Mustang was quiet for a moment. “She did,” he said. “I saw her reading alchemy books when she was a child. But it was always in secret and she never, ever, tried. When I asked her why, once, she just shook her head and said that she didn’t have a mind for it.”

There was silence for a moment.

“That’s bullcrap,” Breda said. “Hawkeye is one of the smartest people I know. She could learn it if she wanted too.”

Mustang sighed. “From what I understand, her father did try to teach it to her, once. She was too young to understand most of the concepts, and, when he pushed her to try, she failed. Master Hawkeye wasn’t always very good at explaining things either, especially not when he thought that you should already know or understand something, if its something that, to him, seems simple.” He paused again. “…She won’t talk about it much,” he said quietly, “But I picked up on the idea that when she couldn’t get it, he grew frustrated and beat her.”

Now Havoc did look over at Mustang, and he noticed Breda did too. Mustang was looking back at them. He looked angry, but like it was an old anger that was there, one that he had long ago had to learn to live with.

“How old was she?” Breda asked.

Mustang shook his head. “No more than five or six.”

Havoc sucked in a breath and was suddenly glad that he didn’t have anything between his lips, because he would have inhaled it. Five or six. That was the same age as his niece Libby. Sweet Libby with the braid and the million-watt smile, who loved to hug him around his neck and bring him flowers and play adventures in the tall grass. If her dad every tried to beat her (which he wouldn’t, he was a good man), Havoc would kill him in a heartbeat if it meant saving her. To imagine something like that happening to Hawkeye at the same age filled him with a horrifying sinking feeling.

Breda cursed again, and Mustang turned back to his work.

“It left a lasting impression on her, one I don’t even think she realizes is there, or doesn’t care enough to bother with. I’ve tried to teach her alchemy before, over the years. She has enough knowledge of theory that she could easily do simple transmutations. But there’s a mental block there. No matter what I’ve tried, she can’t do the practical application of it. And I don’t think she really wants to. She’ll try, because I ask her to, but after that? She doesn’t care to. I honestly think she could have been a decent alchemist if it wasn’t for that mental block that was left from her father’s one and only attempt to teach her.”

Breda shook his head again. “That’s… I don’t even have the words for it.” He looked back up towards the ceiling, and then over at the table before quickly looking away from it. “How has she managed to function as well as she does?”

Mustang let out a sigh. “I don’t know. But I do know that what happened to her in her childhood, those experiences allowed her to survive being under Selim’s observation and not able to have a moment to herself.”

“Yeah, but she was so thin by the end of it, and her body exhausted,” Havoc said.

“I know,” Mustang said. “You should have seen her when we first met. She was a thin thing. I always assumed it was because of the lack of food, and the way that she always made sure to give bigger portions to her father and to me than she did to herself. But now I wonder if it also wasn’t the stress of living under her father.”

Havoc shifted uncomfortably. This dive into Hawkeye’s childhood was uncomfortable at the least. It revealed a lot about her, and it explained a lot about her too. But it also felt like prying, and he could see Breda shifting a bit uncomfortably too. The silence stretched on for a while longer, until Mustang let out another sigh.

“Come on. Let’s keep working.”

They worked without finding anything until Falman called down to let them know that supper was ready. They hadn’t quite finished, but they came up anyway, Havoc just then realizing how hungry he was. Hawkeye and Falman still had photographs and paintings spread all over the dining room table, but the kitchen table was free and the other three were in there. Fuery was stirring some pots, and Falman was setting out the plates and cutlery. Riza was tasting something and adding a little more spice to it.

“What’s this?” Mustang said, a bit of teasing in his voice. “And here I thought we were all busy working.”

“We were, sir,” Fuery said, “But I’ve done all the work I can from the inside. I thought I would start dinner.”

“And to be honest, I needed a break,” Hawkeye said. “I didn’t mind helping Kain out.”

Truth be told, Havoc thought that she still did look a little tired, and he couldn’t blame her much for that. Honestly, he was still amazed that she was managing as well as she was—and that she had managed as well as she did the first time they came here. If he had had a past like hers, he would have been more likely to burn the place down then to ever return to it. Something good must have come at some point, though, enough to override the bad. Otherwise, he doubted that she would be here and working as well as she was.

Of course, she had support her with her now. That had to make a difference. She certainly hadn’t had support as a child, and then only Mustang for support when she was a bit older, until he had left. It had to have been hard. Now, though, she had the five of them, plus Hayate. Hopefully it made a difference to her. Still, if she was tired, he found it completely understandable.

Over dinner, the group discussed what they had discovered so far. It was a strike out on all fronts. The only one who had any luck had been Fuery, and that was because he wasn’t searching for anything, just setting up a phone. They returned to their respective tasks after supper, Fuery offering to clean up, but no one had any luck then, either.

However, at lights out, one thing was agreed upon. They needed to set up watches. None of them, Havoc knew, had gotten this far by not being at least a little paranoid—and they had plenty to be paranoid about right now. Alarms and traps were set, and one at a time they took turns taking watch. Havoc roamed the house on his, Hayate accompanying him. It actually worked out well for him, Havoc found, as the walking helped the ache in his legs. Downstairs he could walk as much as he wanted to. Nothing happened on his watch, and after he woke up to walk Falman for his turn, Havoc fell into bed and slept well.

When morning dawned, Havoc was, as usual one of the first ones up. Hawkeye was already awake, but instead of working on breakfast, she was standing in the dinning room, frowning over the document and pictures.

“Mornin’,” Havoc greeted, but frowned at her frown. “What are you looking at?”

“The documents,” she said. “I think they’ve been moved.”

Havoc’s head snapped towards hers. “Are you sure?”

“Pretty sure,” she said. “Well need Falman to be able to tell us for sure.”

“Tell us what?” Fuery asked, coming into the dining room with them.

“Hawk thinks some of the documents were disturbed,” Havoc said.

All of the sleep in Fuery was gone at that statement. “What?”

Hawkeye shook her head. “Let’s get breakfast started. When Falman wakes up, we’ll ask him to take a look. It isn’t likely that whoever bothered these is still here this morning.”

“Right,” Havoc said, but his frown didn’t leave. Hawkeye wasn’t typically wrong about things like this. Someone or something had been down here, and Havoc doubted that it was Hayate or rats messing with the documents.

Hawkeye was tense as they prepared breakfast. She seemed especially uncomfortable with the confirmation that someone had been in the house, and Havoc found it understandable. So much of herself had already been revealed to them, even without her permission. He didn’t blame her at all for being a little squirrelly about this situation.

When Falman came down the stairs, he was immediately directed towards the dining room where he confirmed that yes, the documents had been disturbed and, even more concerning, that there were items missing. Breda and Mustang came down the stairs just a moment later, and Havoc could hear Hawkeye telling them what they had found. Mustang ordered them all to eat a quick breakfast, and then start a thorough sweep of the house—with the exception of Falman, who’s job it was to determine what in the documents was missing.

There was no dallying at the breakfast table this morning, and the sweep began with thirty minutes of them all being awake. It was a slow, thorough sweep, starting on the first level and working their way up. Nothing was left unturned or untested. Furniture, rugs, walls, they examined all of them.

Which, honestly, brought Havoc to a question.

“Hey, boss—we looked through every nook and cranny of this place the last time we were here. Don’t you think we’d have found something by now if something was hidden or locked or whatever?”

The last time they were here, Mustang had looked into the walls and the floors to see if they contained any hidden research. They had, of course, turned up blind, with nothing to show, but it was what they had done. If there had been any hidden passages to find, wouldn’t they have found them then?

“If it was added after we left, or was something cleverly hidden, I may not have noticed it,” Mustang said. “I wasn’t focused on looking for secret doors after all. I was focused on any notes her that her father might have left behind.”

“Right,” Havoc said. “Still, if there were something up here, I would have thought that we would have found at least a trace of it.”

Mustang frowned. “Yeah. Me too.”

The search continued with very little found. There were no overt signs of an intruder, although there were little things that none of them had thought about before, like bottles being moved or curtains being opened, that none of them had done, but had happened all the same. All signs pointed to someone being in the house.

The intruder didn’t appear to have been on the second floor or the attic yet, and Mustang made sure that the backstairs to both would be impassible for the time being. It would give them only one way up the stairs to guard, which was useful. Of course, the possibility of alchemy being used to take down what he put up was a consideration, and Hawkeye and Fuery rigged several traps that, quite frankly, Havoc was certain he didn’t want to mess with.

By the time dinner came around that night, they were all tired, but still determined. They resolved to leave nothing downstairs, and then started swapping stories of anything odd or unusual that they had encountered over their stay here. Some, of course, were immediately discounted when someone admitted to moving or doing something themselves. Havoc recalled some odd things that he had seen in the barn that he had attributed to the horses or to other animals escaping from the rains, and Falman reported on a few odd things he had seen outside. By themselves, and without suspicion, they really wouldn’t have been things to worry about. But Mustang’s team was good with suspicion, Havoc knew, as it had saved their own lives more than once, and the lives of the country, too.

And still the rain fell outside.

They all went to bed on high alert, ready to snap awake and to action at the slightest provocation. The days of pouring rain and tense moments felt like they were building up to something to Havoc, although he had no idea what they were building up to. All he knew was that it felt like everything was building up to something big, and something important.

The next few days were met with little change. With the thunder and the rain, there wasn’t much else they could do. Fuery said it was too dangerous to try to hook up the phone in a lightning storm. He was just as likely to get hit and killed then he was to get the phone hooked up, and no one wanted that. Falman still went out and made his observations, checking the garden and the orchard for food. Breda and Mustang resupplied their wood pile and secured the grounds as best they could. Havoc and Hawkeye went out hunting, bringing back what kill they could to sustain them throughout these long and tense days.

The unchanging days, however, provide some opportunities for conversations, whether they were conversations that either party wanted to have or not. Havoc, usually moving about the house to try and help his aching legs, overheard a number of these.

The first one he overheard was between Hawkeye and Breda. They were still taking care of the bulk of the laundry, and Havoc overheard them talking when he was passing through the kitchen one day.

“—not trying to be insensitive, Riza, but I do have a few questions for you.”

Riza sighed. “Go ahead, Heymans. I figured someone would. I should have expected this.”

Havoc could hear the sounds of them continuing to work on the washing while they talked.

“You told us about who had seen your tattoo,” Breda said. “But were there any others?”

Hawkeye sounded a bit confused when she answered. “No. I told you the entire list.”

“That’s it?” Breda pressed. “What about… well… boyfriends and the like?”

There was a beat of silence. “Heymans, there were no boyfriends. When I was living at home, I didn’t dare bring a boy home, even if there was one that would have braved my father’s wrath. My father was a frightening man, and for good reason. And when I joined the academy, boys were the last thing on my mind. It may have been the military, but it was my first taste of freedom and I didn’t want to be tied down by anything or anyone.”

“Right,” Heymans said, and although the answer might have sounded trite to some, Havoc knew better. It was simply him acknowledging her words. “I know that Mustang said that there wasn’t likely to be any alchemist who could learn Flame Alchemy off of your tattoo now, but could they learn anything else?”

Another pause. “I’m not entirely sure,” she admitted. “It’s hard to see my back, and I’m no alchemist. But I think that there are still some basic principles that could be gained from it.” She paused. “I wanted the whole thing gone, but he refused. He was probably right, in the end, but I wanted to be freed from this burden all together.”

“Yeah,” Breda said, and there was a note of understanding in his voice. “Alright, you mentioned that there was some contracture. How much and does it impact anything?”

Havoc heard the sound of something being put down, and someone standing up. And then, after a moment, Hawkeye’s voice. “Not much. As you can see, I can reach a little bit further with my right arm then my left arm, but t’s not enough to truly impact anything. So far, the only thing it’s impacted has been a few moments in training, and I compensated for those. I don’t think anyone even noticed.”

“I didn’t,” Breda admitted. “Okay, any other ailments or problems that stem from that tattoo?”

Hawkeye was quiet for a moment, and Havoc could hear her sitting back down and picking up her washing again. “Well, most of the time it isn’t a problem, but if I don’t have my head about me, then it can be. I’m not fond of needles,” she said, and Havoc winced. Yeah, he bet she wasn’t, and he could hear the awkward shifting of Breda as he likely came to the same realization as Havoc. Hawkeye kept going. “If I have my head about me, it’s about a 60/40 chance that the needle is going to bother me. Me reacting to it is an even bigger difference. But if I have some sort of addling or I’ve been unconscious, then do tend to react poorly to needles in general.”

“Yeah… that makes sense,” Breda said, although it was clear to Havoc he was a little disturbed by the notion.

“It does,” she continued, as if she hadn’t heard it at all.  “I also have a problem with being held down sometimes. Even with someone I trust, it’s a struggle for me to let most people hold me down. I tend to want to panic and get away from that person or whoever is holding me in place.” She paused. “… Father used ropes, for when I was being unruly, and the idea of being in that position again just does not sit well with me.”

There was a little strain in Breda’s voice when he spoke again, and he had to clear his throat. “Yeah… Yeah that makes sense,” he repeated. “Okay— okay I think that answers most of the questions that I have now. I’m sure there will be more along the way, but for now I have what I came after.”

“If you have any more, ask me, but please just give me a heads up and a few moments first,” Hawkeye requested. “It’s a difficult topic.”

“Of course,” Breda said, and that seemed to be the end of that. Havoc stole away quietly, not wanting to let either of them know he had overheard the conversation.

Of course, that wasn’t the only conversation that Havoc heard between Hawkeye and other members of the team. He happened to be nearby when Hawkeye and Fuery were working in the kitchen, and small talk turned to something more serious.

“You sure are a good cook, Captain!” Fuery said.

Hawkeye laughed. “You don’t have to be formal, Kain. And thank you. I try to make stuff last and use as much of it as possible.”

There was a beat of silence and then “… you know if you ever wanted to talk about it…”

Havoc could almost hear that smile of Hawkeye’s. “Thank you, Kain. I appreciate it.”

“Of course!” Fuery replied. “Anytime, s—Riza.”

For a moment they were both silent and then Riza spoke up. “I made a lot of meals on this stove,” she said.

“Yeah?” Fuery said, encouraging her to go on without interrupting her.

“Yeah,” Hawkeye said. “After mother died, father hardly ever came out. I remember that much. I think he would just fix whatever he could find. But as I got older, I learned to cook and started making the meals. After that, the only time father ever cooked anything that I remember, was when I was healing from the tattoo. He would do it in stages, and while I was healing, he would bring me food, water, whatever I needed.”

Fuery was silent, and Hawkeye sighed. “For a little bit, I was able to convince myself that it was love, that he loved me, but in the end it wasn’t. It was just a desire to see his work completed.” She looked down at the pot she was stirring and shook her head. “Sometimes I wonder…. If mother had lived, and if father had died…. What would be different?”

Fuery was silent as Hawkeye seemed to turn that over in her mind for a moment, and then shook herself out of it. She moved, almost just to be doing something, and started attending to one of the other pots on the stove.

“The past is the past, though,” she said, “and I can’t change anything about it.” She turned her head to look at Fuery again and Havoc could see her give him a smile that didn’t quite seem to be real. It was a smile of “this is how it is” and not one of happiness, which, personally, Havoc found sad.

Fuery cleared his throat, not entirely sure what to say to that. He put a hand on her shoulder for a moment, and then softly redirected the conversation. “So, um, you learned how to cook when you were young. Did you learn from books or did someone teach you?”

She tilted her head back, thinking. “Well, in a way, both. I remembered things that my mother taught me. I don’t remember her teaching them to me, just thinking ‘this is the way Mama did it’ so I had that to pull on. I also was pretty good at reading from a young age, so I would read books and try my best to understand them. Once I started school, there were some classes there that helped as well. And as I got older, I experimented more.”

“Yeah?” Fuery asked, curious.

Hawkeye nodded. “Yes. We didn’t often have much, so I learned how to make things stretch. I knew a lot of the wild plants that were edible, or that would be once you prepared them, and I learned how to grow a garden. I would hunt, too, and trade my kill for supplies. I managed to trade or sell enough off to get a goat and some chickens, so we at least had milk and eggs, if nothing else.”

“Sounds like you made it, even if you had it pretty hard at time,” Fuery said.

“I suppose so,” Hawkeye commented. “It was certainly a very interesting childhood. I wouldn’t recommend most of it to anyone.”

“Well, regardless, sir, I am glad that I got to know you now,” Fuery said.

This time the smile that she returned seemed truer. “I’m glad, too,” she said. “For being able to meet all of you.”

Havoc somehow felt that statement was more than a little true and kept it to himself for the time being.

He was in the living room, reading a book, when he overheard a conversation she had with Falman. They were in the dining room, looking over the pictures and documents.

“Sir, I hate to ask, but… You spent a lot of time outdoors, correct?” Falman’s voice was his typical straight voice, but there was a note in it that seemed to indicate that he knew he was going to tread on sensitive ground.

“I did,” Hawkeye confirmed. “That’s why I know the grounds so well.”

“Of course,” Falman said. “Well, I just… was it because of your father?” the question almost seemed to blurt out of his mouth, and he looked like he wanted to immediately take it back.

Hawkeye sighed and leaned against the table. “Mostly, yes,” she said. “I liked to stay outside because it meant that I wasn’t in father’s reach. He wasn’t close enough to lash out at me. But at the same time, if I was gone for too long, he wouldn’t be happy about that either.” She frowned. “It was a balance, and one that was difficult to achieve.”

Falman had stopped looking at the papers on the table and was looking at her instead. “Did he hurt you?” he asked.

Riza fell silent, and just stood there breathing for a moment. Finally, she spoke. “I learned to read his moods, so that I wouldn’t have to worry about anything like that,” she said. “He didn’t typically actively seek me out. But if he was angry with me for something, it was best not be around. Or if he had just come out of a research bender. Sometimes it was like he was half crazy then.” Her words almost sounded haunted, and there was a strange look in her eyes that looked like it made Falman uncomfortable. Not that Havoc could blame him, the whole thing was uncomfortable.

“I see,” he said. He looked back at the pictures. “Then I guess that if this entrance does exist, if has to be extremely well hidden.”

“Oh yes,” she said. “If it wasn’t, believe me, I would have used it to escape many things.”

The statement was haunting, and it was clear that neither of them wanted to think too hard on it. Havoc didn’t want to think too hard on it. They turned back to scouring through the papers and pictures and Havoc left them to it.

Of course, Havoc had his own conversation with her. It was bound to happen. His conversation with her happened when he was up on watch one night. He stood at the end of the hall upstairs, looking out the window at the dark and pouring rain beyond. When he heard footsteps behind him, he turned to see who it was. Hawkeye padded towards him, her feet bare and a robe wrapped around her. She joined him at the window.

“Can’t sleep?” he said.

Hawkeye shook her head. “No,” she said.

He nodded and took a drag off his cigarette. Hawkeye looked at him with a raised eyebrow.

“I thought you were getting off of those things,” she said.

“Yeah, well, after the last couple of days, I kinda needed it,” he said. She hummed. There really wasn’t much arguing about that. They were quiet for a few moments, and then Havoc spoke. “He beat you, didn’t he?” he said. “Sometimes he beat you. That’s why you knew how to get to that place on the roof. That’s why you went up there a lot as a child. And it’s why you can read people so well and you get angry at injustice, especially with children.”

Hawkeye had stiffened up, but she didn’t move from where she was. Finally, she nodded. “Yes,” she said, her voice quiet.

He had suspected as much for a while. “How often?” he asked.

Hawkeye shook her head. “They weren’t predictable, not exactly. When he came off a research bender, he was much more likely to be reactionary and hit me for small things. If I wasn’t keeping up with my chores or grades, then he was likely to hit me as well. Most of the time when he hit me, it wasn’t a full beating, just a strike because I’d done something like bother him or didn’t have something ready in time.”

“He called you names, too, didn’t he?” Havoc asked.

Again, Hawkeye stiffly nodded, and Havoc let her speak at her own pace. “Worthless girl was his favorite. So was useless. Part of me wanted to run away, but I was too afraid, I didn’t think I’d be able to survive on my own, and, well… he was still my father. I still wanted his love.”

“Sure,” Havoc said, still puffing on his cigarette. He sighed. “Honestly, Ri, do you have any idea how amazing you are?”

Hawkeye blinked up at him. “What?” she asked, clearly a bit startled.

“I have nieces, you know? Nieces and nephews and I think about some of them. I think about little Libby who loves with her whole heart and has so much fun bringing gifts and playing adventures in the tall grass. She loved climbing all over me and my chair, and I was her knight and her horse in these games. She has such a bright smile and such a gentle heart. And then I think about how your father hurt you, and I just—she’s not even my child, and I can’t imagine hurting her. In fact, if anyone was hurting her, I’d be more likely to kill them. Before or after the chair.”

His frown deepened. “And then I think about my cousin, Ellie, who honestly was more like a little sister to me. She’s 15 and smart as a whip with a sharp tongue to boot. But she’s kind, and eager to please. And I think about what your father did to you, and I just can’t imagine it.”

He reached out then, not able to help it, and hugged her. “Stars, Riza, I’m so sorry that it happened to you. It shouldn’t have. There should have been something or someone to stop it and I just—It had to hurt. It hurt, didn’t it? The tattooing, I mean.”

She was stiff with surprise in his arms for a moment, and then, slowly she relaxed a bit. She was quiet, and then, slowly, her arms curled to hug him back. Her voice was soft as she spoke. “…It did,” she said. “It hurt so much. The painkiller he gave me, my body got used to it, and it stopped being effective. Its why painkillers don’t often work on me. I’ve built up a tolerance. But he didn’t stop. He didn’t stop, Jean. He just… he kept going and just tied me down so that I wouldn’t move and destroy his work. And it hurt even worse when I finally admitted that he didn’t love me, just his work, and that I was nothing more then a means to an end for him. I—”

Her breath caught, and she let out a shaky sigh. He let her stay there as she fought to regain her composure.

“I can’t imagine it,” he said. “I can’t even begin to imagine all that you’ve been through. I wish that there was something that I could do about it, but there isn’t. But if you need anything—Riza, you know I’m here.”

She nodded and, after a moment, she slowly pulled back. She wiped at her eyes, and they both fell quiet staring out the window for a moment before she murmured a good night and headed back to her room that she was sharing with Mustang.

Havoc had to pass the room they were in on the way back to his own, and in it he could hear them talking. It sounded like Hawkeye was crying, and a bit of guilt stabbed at his heart at the thought that he had made her cry. But then he heard her words.

“—acknowledged my pain. Told me he was sorry that I had been through it, that it wasn’t right for father to have done that to me.”

“But Riza, you know that,” Mustang was saying. “You’ve known it for years.”

“I know,” she said. “But there’s something different in knowing it, and hearing someone who’s outside of the situation say it. Besides… it was different. It was like he was acknowledging ME. Not what happen to me, or that I was a kid and it wasn’t fair, but me, myself and—I don’t know. That means a lot to me.”

He heard a rustling sound, and figured that Mustang was gathering Hawkeye into his arms, or however the books always phrased it. He heard the sound of a kiss, and figured that Mustang was placing one on her head.

“Well, if it made you feel better, then I’m glad for it,” Mustang said. “You deserve so much better, Riza. I wish I could give you the world.”

The words sounded rehearsed, as if they had said them a million times.

“You know I don’t want that,” she said. “But I do want to be by your side through this world.”

It also sounded rehearsed, but neither sounded like something one of them would give out for a play or anything. No, it sounded more like something that two people have said to each other over and over again. It sounded like a way of saying “I love you.”

Havoc stole away then, to his room. His shift was over, and he was going to wake up Breda for his own.

And then he was going to enjoy having an entire bed to himself for a while, because he missed that.

More days passed, still with pouring rain. The thunder let up, though, and Fuery, who had not been about to go rig up anything in the middle of a thunderstorm, felt safer about going out in just the rain. Normally the Master Sergeant wouldn’t have done anything in this weather, but it was what it was, and there really wasn’t any other choice. Havoc could respect that, even if he was questioning the wisdom of it.

Falman, meanwhile, had reconstructed some of the missing work. From what he was able to piece together from both memory and the remaining documents, he was constructing a blueprint of the house to see if there had, indeed, once been more to the basement they there currently seemed to be. He had wondered if the town might have any sort of official record keeping that might lend him a copy of the blueprints or other such thing to help him figure it out. Hawkeye said it was possible, although she didn’t know for sure.

It was when he was taking a break from piecing together a general blueprint, that another startling discovery was made. Breda had been looking through the casefile that they had originally been tasked with when he noticed that something was missing. He had gone immediately to Falman to confirm, and Falman confirmed it. There were pages missing.

“But why those pages?” Falman asked.

Mustang’s jaw was set. “Those pages were specifically on the alchemy that was used at the scenes. It seems our intruder has an interest in alchemy. We need to catch him.”

“But how?” Havoc asked “We’ve not seen him at all. We don’t have a clue where he’s coming from.”

“Not exactly,” Breda said. “We know that he has to have a way in and out of the basement. Otherwise, he couldn’t have locked Hawkeye in there from both sides.”

Hawkeye tensed up, and Havoc found that he couldn’t really blame her for it.

“I need to go over that basement with a fine-toothed comb,” Mustang said. “Until then, no one goes anywhere by themselves, understand?”

A chorus of “yes, sir!” rang out, Hayate even barking along with them.

“Breda, Falman, I want you two to go out and search the grounds. Look for anything unusual.”

They both nodded and headed towards the washroom to get their boots and gear up.

“Havoc, you and I are going to go back down there and look over that basement again.”

“Right.” Havoc replied.

“Hawkeye, Fuery, I want the two of you to go over this house. Don’t leave any place undisturbed.”

“Yes, sir.” Fuery said

“Understood, sir.” Hawkeye replied, a steely look in her eyes.

“Keep Hayate near you,” he said. “He may be able to sense something before we’re able to.”

“Right,” Hawkeye said.

Mustang hesitated for a moment. “If this someone has an interest in alchemy…”

“Don’t worry, sir, I’ll be safe,” Hawkeye said. “I’ve got two reliable partners watching my back.”

Mustang nodded. “Right.”

Havoc couldn’t help but notice the tension and worry in both Mustang and Hawkeye as they turned towards their respective tasks, and he met Fuery’s eyes. The younger man looked firm, determined, and Havoc knew that Hawkeye would be safe in his hands.

The rest of the day was spent searching. Hawkeye and Fuery didn’t find much of anything, except some areas that could possibly be used for entry into the house, and they either took care of them themselves, or saved it to tell Mustang later. Havoc and Mustang didn’t have much luck either. The problem with searching for signs of alchemy in a house that had alchemists living in it and had already been looked over once by an alchemist, was that there were signs of alchemy everywhere. It was hard for Mustang to tell if his previous attempts at alchemy had been disturbed or not, much less for Havoc to be able to tell.

The only exciting thing was when Falman and Breda came back, slamming into the kitchen, Breda bellowing for Mustang.

“General! We found something!” Breda called.

Havoc rushed into the kitchen as well, hand hovering over his gun, just in case. When he got there, he saw Breda with a man dressed in a rain jacket, his head turned away from Breda’s yelling. Breda had his arms in a hold, and Falman had his gun trained on the man. The man wasn’t trying to resist.

“Who’s that?” Havoc asked, not quite able to get a good look at the man. He was about average height and weight, seemed to be wearing the same sturdy clothes most country folk wore, although they were muddy and wet, as if he had just come from spending a large amount of time outside. His coat was tan, and Havoc could see bits of brown hair sticking out from under the hood.

“Good question,” Mustang said, striding into the room. “Where did you find him?”

“Skulking around the edge of the woods,” Breda said. “Not sure what he was doing out that way, but he didn’t come quietly with us.”

It was then Havoc noted that all three men seemed to have a lot of mud on them, water soaking into their uniforms.

“What’s going on?” Hawkeye and Fuery entered the kitchen, both of them looking on curiously, although Havoc could see the sharpness in Hawkeye’s eyes, and the very subtle way her body shifted so she would be able to draw her gun more quickly.

“Breda and Falman found this man skulking near the edge of your woods,” Mustang said.

“Who is he?” Hawkeye asked, and that seemed to get the man’s attention.

“Ms. Hawkeye!” he said, and looked up at her, finally revealing his face. “What do you mean ‘who is he?’? Don’t you know?”

Understanding seemed to dawn in her eyes, and she relaxed a bit, although no one else did, Havoc included.

“Bennet Johnson?” she said.

The man nodded rapidly, as if wanting very hard to confirm that was who he was.

“What are you doing here?” she asked him.

“Well, ma’am, I mean, I was just coming to check on the property. With the rain and all, I thought there might be some problems,” he said. He looked back at Breda. “Was I right?”

Hawkeye waved Breda and Falman off, and as soon as they did, the man was stepping away from them, rubbing his wrists.

Mustang watched her carefully. “You know this man, Captain?” he said.

“Yes, sir,” she said. “I pay him to keep an eye on the property and do any sort of basic maintenance that the house or grounds need. I come out once a year to check on things myself. But he takes care of it for most of the year.”

“I see,” Mustang said, and, although it was clear that he understood, Havoc could see that he wasn’t quite ready to let go of his suspicion. “And do you know him or his family?”

Riza shook her head. “He came to me on recommendation. He’s new to the area and needed work. I was told that he was fairly good with upkeep and repairs and decided to give him a chance. I’ve not been disappointed yet,” she said. She looked back over at the man. “You said you were just coming to check on the house and property?”

Johnson nodded rapidly. “Yes ma’am!”

Breda, who clearly was suspicious stepped a bit closer to Johnson. “Then why did you run?” he asked.

“Because I didn’t want any trouble!” he said. I don’t know you or who you are! Your uniforms don’t mean you’re good people! Don’t you know how many former soldiers or deserters there are who still wear parts of their uniforms? I didn’t want to fall prey to one of them! I was going to head back to town and ask some questions! That’s all!”

It was a reasonable excuse, honestly, Havoc thought. The rain was likely to have caused some sort of damage to the house, and if he was responsible for checking the house, then it made sense that he would come to make sure that the house was in good repair. But something about it just didn’t sit right with Havoc.

Mustang nodded at Breda, and Breda backed off a bit. Falman lowered his gun, but didn’t put it away, Havoc noted. Seems Briggs had taught him a thing or two about action and how quickly it needed to be taken at times.

“Have you noticed anything strange around the house lately?” Mustang asked.

“You mean besides a bunch of strange soldiers?” Johnson shot back. He glanced at Hawkeye, who seemed to let out a bit of a sigh.

“Bennett Johnson, this is my commanding officer, General Roy Mustang. These are First Lieutenants Breda, Havoc and Falman, and Master Sergeant Fuery. We were on our way further south on official business when the tracks became too dangerous to travel. Instead, we’ve been forced to stay here. We didn’t mean to surprise you. I should have warned you about it. My apologies.”

Johnson shook his head. “No, no apologies. I heard about what happened in town. Seemed they’re full up and nearly every place that has a place you can stay is full up. I just wanted to make sure that there weren’t any soldiers or civilians who had decided to take advantage of an empty house. I know how particular you are, Ms. Hawkeye.”

“Thank you, Johnson, I appreciate that. But can you please answer the General’s question?” Hawkeye said.

“Oh! Anything strange around the house lately?” He paused to think. “Well, not in particular. Everything seems about the same and seems to be alright. The strangest thing I can think of is that some of the brick on the backside seemed oddly chipped. But there’s a woodpecker about who seems to be pecking on anything but wood, so I just chalked it up to that.”

Hawkeye and Mustang exchanged looks. “Can you show that place to Breda and Falman?” Hawkeye asked him.

“Oh, sure!” he said. “I mean, I did my best to fix it, but I can show them where it was.”

“Thank you,” Hawkeye said. “And thank you for coming to check on the place. Our apologies for attacking you.”  

Johnson shook his head. “It’s alright, Ms. Hawkeye. I get that you were just doing your jobs. Although this isn’t going to be easy to spot.” He turned to look at Breda and Falman. “Come on,” he said. “I’ll show you right where it is.”

“Alright,” Breda said and motioned for Falman to follow him first. Breda gave Mustang and Hawkeye a look that said he was already calculating something and that he had some words for the two of them later, but he followed Johnson out anyway.

Havoc holstered his gun, but he kept an ear out anyway. Something about this just didn’t settle right with him.

The bricks, it turned out, weren’t really that helpful. He had done his best to close them over, but on the whole, there wasn’t much to be gained from them. Likewise, nothing was turned up anywhere else in the house. By the time that bedtime came around, they were all beat. Showers were quickly gotten, leftovers quickly eaten, and beds quickly taken, except for the man on watch. They were woken up to take their turns at watch at need, and the night stretched on into another dreary cloud filled day of rain, rain, and more rain.

[nancygduarteus]

Health Care's Bipartisan Moment?

As soon as three Republican senators torpedoed the GOP’s latest repeal-and-replace push early Friday morning, a simmering question bubbled back up again.

Is it finally, at long last, after seven years of one-party efforts, time for bipartisanship on health care?

The short answer is maybe.

Fresh off their biggest victory of Donald Trump’s still-young presidency, Democrats on Friday seized an opening to offer up their own ideas to fix the Affordable Care Act with the hope of sustaining a law that, while free of an immediate legislative threat, still faces uncertainty under the stewardship of an administration rooting for its failure.

“I hope we can work together to make the system better in a bipartisan way, and I’m optimistic that can happen,” Senate Minority Leader Charles Schumer said during a Friday press conference that was part victory lap, part political opportunism. “Nobody has said Obamacare is perfect. Nobody has said our health-care system doesn’t need fixing.”

Democrats had refused to negotiate with Republicans on health care until the GOP gave up on repeal, and while the party hasn’t quite done that, Schumer’s offer is an indication that Democrats are increasingly confident it is dead. Congress is headed for a long summer recess and will have to fund the government and raise the debt ceiling when lawmakers return in September. That leaves only a small window for health care before the clock runs out on the GOP’s reconciliation process—its only legislative vehicle for repeal—on October 1.

Whether Republicans are ready to join Schumer remains entirely unclear, as the same tactical and policy divisions that stymied their repeal effort quickly resurfaced on Friday. President Trump lashed out, returning to his earlier suggestion of sabotaging the law administratively—letting it “implode,” in his tweeted words—and waiting for Democrats to come begging for a deal. But the president again betrayed a fundamental misunderstanding of legislative politics and the Senate’s basic rules in a later tweet, when he called on Republican to fully eliminate the filibuster and return to a 51-vote for passing bills.

It was not the filibuster that thwarted the repeal effort, however. Senate Republicans were already using a budget process requiring a simply majority vote, and Trump’s own vice president, Mike Pence, was in the chamber on Friday morning waiting—and hoping—for the chance to put the bill over the top. (The president soon issued somewhat of a clarification, but did not retract his call.) “His analysis is based on fluff. I just don’t get it,” Schumer said of the president’s tweets.

In defeat, Senate Majority Leader Mitch McConnell alluded to the possibility of bipartisanship, but he began with a rueful tone toward Democrats and seemed to draw a line through one of their top priorities. “Now I think it’s appropriate to ask, what are their ideas?” McConnell said moments after his proposal went down. “It’ll be interesting to see what they suggest as the way forward. For myself I can say—and I bet I’m pretty safe in saying for most on this side of the aisle—that bailing out insurance companies with no thought of any kind of reform, is not something I want to be part of.”

Schumer made clear that what McConnell referred to as a bailout of insurers—the permanent payment of cost-sharing reduction fees to help stabilize the individual market—would be a top demand of Democrats. He also promoted proposals from Senators Tim Kaine of Virginia and Tom Carper of Delaware that would reestablish a reinsurance program to provide further help to the market, an idea that Republican state legislators in Alaska and Minnesota have embraced.

As for what changes to Obamacare that Democrats might offer up as concessions to Republicans, Schumer wouldn’t say. “I’m not going to get into negotiations here the day after, but there has to be a give and take,” the New Yorker said.

The appetite for bipartisan talks appears to be stronger in the Senate than in the more conservative House, where a number of Republicans issued statements urging their Senate colleagues not to give up on repeal. Schumer said he had already spoken to House Speaker Paul Ryan about working together, but in a statement of his own, Ryan made no mention of turning to bipartisanship.

“We were sent to Washington to fulfill the pledges we made to our constituents,” he said. “While the House delivered a bill to repeal and replace Obamacare, unfortunately the Senate was unable to reach a consensus. I am disappointed and frustrated, but we should not give up. I encourage the Senate to continue working toward a real solution that keeps our promise.”

If a bipartisan deal emerges, it would probably come out of the Senate, where some behind-the-scenes talks have already begun. The House is prepared to move quickly to the GOP’s next priority: tax reform. But no breakthroughs on either issue are imminent. The House is leaving Friday for a five-week recess, with the Senate expected soon to follow.

from Health News And Updates https://www.theatlantic.com/politics/archive/2017/07/health-cares-bipartisan-moment/535260/?utm_source=feed

[ionecoffman]

Health Care's Bipartisan Moment?

As soon as three Republican senators torpedoed the GOP’s latest repeal-and-replace push early Friday morning, a simmering question bubbled back up again.

Is it finally, at long last, after seven years of one-party efforts, time for bipartisanship on health care?

The short answer is maybe.

Fresh off their biggest victory of Donald Trump’s still-young presidency, Democrats on Friday seized an opening to offer up their own ideas to fix the Affordable Care Act with the hope of sustaining a law that, while free of an immediate legislative threat, still faces uncertainty under the stewardship of an administration rooting for its failure.

“I hope we can work together to make the system better in a bipartisan way, and I’m optimistic that can happen,” Senate Minority Leader Charles Schumer said during a Friday press conference that was part victory lap, part political opportunism. “Nobody has said Obamacare is perfect. Nobody has said our health-care system doesn’t need fixing.”

Democrats had refused to negotiate with Republicans on health care until the GOP gave up on repeal, and while the party hasn’t quite done that, Schumer’s offer is an indication that Democrats are increasingly confident it is dead. Congress is headed for a long summer recess and will have to fund the government and raise the debt ceiling when lawmakers return in September. That leaves only a small window for health care before the clock runs out on the GOP’s reconciliation process—its only legislative vehicle for repeal— on October 1.

Whether Republicans are ready to join Schumer remains entirely unclear, as the same tactical and policy divisions that stymied their repeal effort quickly resurfaced on Friday. President Trump lashed out, returning to his earlier suggestion of sabotaging the law administratively—letting it “implode,” in his tweeted words—and waiting for Democrats to come begging for a deal. But the president again betrayed a fundamental misunderstanding of legislative politics and the Senate’s basic rules in a later tweet, when he called on Republican to fully eliminate the filibuster and return to a 51-vote for passing bills.

It was not the filibuster that thwarted the repeal effort, however. Senate Republicans were already using a budget process requiring a simply majority vote, and Trump’s own vice president, Mike Pence, was in the chamber on Friday morning waiting—and hoping—for the chance to put the bill over the top. (The president soon issued somewhat of a clarification, but did not retract his call.) “His analysis is based on fluff. I just don’t get it,” Schumer said of the president’s tweets.

In defeat, Senate Majority Leader Mitch McConnell alluded to the possibility of bipartisanship, but he began with a rueful tone toward Democrats and seemed to draw a line through one of their top priorities. “Now I think it’s appropriate to ask, what are their ideas?” McConnell said moments after his proposal went down. “It’ll be interesting to see what they suggest as the way forward. For myself I can say—and I bet I’m pretty safe in saying for most on this side of the aisle—that bailing out insurance companies with no thought of any kind of reform, is not something I want to be part of.”

Schumer made clear that what McConnell referred to as a bailout of insurers—the permanent payment of cost-sharing reduction fees to help stabilize the individual market—would be a top demand of Democrats. He also promoted proposals from Senators Tim Kaine of Virginia and Tom Carper of Delaware that would reestablish a reinsurance program to provide further help to the market, an idea that Republican state legislators in Alaska and Minnesota have embraced.

As for what changes to Obamacare that Democrats might offer up as concessions to Republicans, Schumer wouldn’t say. “I’m not going to get into negotiations here the day after, but there has to be a give and take,” the New Yorker said.

The appetite for bipartisan talks appears to be stronger in the Senate than in the more conservative House, where a number of Republicans issued statements urging their Senate colleagues not to give up on repeal. Schumer said he had already spoken to House Speaker Paul Ryan about working together, but in a statement of his own, Ryan made no mention of turning to bipartisanship.

“We were sent to Washington to fulfill the pledges we made to our constituents,” he said. “While the House delivered a bill to repeal and replace Obamacare, unfortunately the Senate was unable to reach a consensus. I am disappointed and frustrated, but we should not give up. I encourage the Senate to continue working toward a real solution that keeps our promise.”

If a bipartisan deal emerges, it would probably come out of the Senate, where some behind-the-scenes talks have already begun. The House is prepared to move quickly to the GOP’s next priority: tax reform. But no breakthroughs on either issue are imminent. The House is leaving Friday for a five-week recess, with the Senate expected soon to follow.

Article source here:The Atlantic