Chapter Text
The sun was bright and hot, just as she remembered it. And yet it chilled her to the bone. Who would be afraid of a beautiful sunny day? But with each passing minute, the sun shone brilliantly in the sky, the train chugged forward, and dread grew heavier in her chest.
“It’s amazing how you can do that without even looking.”
Riza drew her gaze away from the train window and focused on Jean Havoc, who was grinning at her. Both she and all the men on her team were glad he decided to return to the military after his legs fully healed. He had been sitting next to her since they started their trip very early that morning, and while his normally sunny disposition was slightly dampened by their looming destination, he had spent the last couple hours trying to put a smile on her face.
"What?” She realized that her hands had stilled and she looked down at her lap. On top of the open pages of a book (some mystery novel that had failed to capture her attention) lay the mechanics of one of her firearms. Clutched in her fingers was the grip and barrel of the gun. Had she been assembling it or disassembling it? She felt even more dismay. She was always so attentive when holding her weapons because she knew the destruction that they caused, and she hated that she had been so careless while she was lost in thought. “Oh. Just practice, I suppose.”
"I bet. You could probably do it in your sleep.”
Riza hummed in affirmation, focusing now on reassembling the weapon. Her nimble fingers made quick work of the job and she tucked the gun back into her side holster. She picked up her book again.
Havoc continued, turning his attention to the dark haired man sitting across from them. “You ever perform alchemy in your sleep, Chief?”
Head down, Riza raised her gaze to regard the man sitting across from her. He stared out the window, but he was quick to respond.
"It’s been a long time since I’ve fallen asleep wearing my gloves.”
In her mind’s eye, clear as day, she saw him next to her, fast asleep, covered in dust from head to toe. She laid on her belly, elbows resting on the windowsill, rifle clutched in her hands as she looked out across the desolation below. He came up to visit her sometimes when she was on guard duty and he was supposed to be sleeping. They talked idly for a few hours until he would slip into a restless slumber. She covered him with her dirty robe to shield him from the chilly desert night air. And his sandy gloves remained on his hands, curled into loose fists. She was glad to see his fingers relaxed, knowing the guilt that he felt about the destruction that they caused.
She didn’t mind his visits at all. If anything, his presence soothed her anxious spirit. She was so young when she was sent to war, pulled from the academy while she was still wet behind the ears because she was singled out as a weapon for the military. And every single day was a cacophony of terror that was inflicted by her hands. But with him beside her, her hands felt steadier, her eyes were keener, and she didn’t feel the pull of sleep. She felt like less of a killer and more of a protector. When the sun began to rise over the horizon, she allowed herself to look at him, and with one finger on the trigger of her rifle, she shook him awake with her free hand.
That was seven years ago, but the memories were so vivid that it seemed like a bad dream from which she had just awoken. And now they were headed back to that dreadful place.
Ishval. She could see the crumbling ruins in the distance now, inching closer and closer by the second.
Havoc, meanwhile swiveled and his seat and started up a conversation with Breda on the other side of him. But Riza’s eyes stayed on Mustang. He was back to looking out the window, his mouth set into a firm line. There was a crease between his eyebrows. He would not admit it, but he was worried- and while he put up a confident front as always, she could read his face easily.
He was remembering too.
Their driver, a young woman whose red eyes pierced through Riza’s face as the blonde slid into the front seat beside her, was silent the entire drive. The entire party respectfully (albeit awkwardly) followed suit. Squeezed in by the driver, Riza tried her very best to not press against the young woman through their bumpy drive to the house where they were staying for the trip. And when they reached their destination, the ishvallan raced the car away after the last passenger, Breda, stepped out of the vehicle. He barely had time to take his suitcase with him.
It was a large, two-story house- dilapidated by the standards of a similar structure in most other towns. Despite this, it was larger than most homes in the neighborhood, though still smaller than some of the homes they passed on the way. Once a wealthy family had occupied it. Riza didn't want to think about the fate of that family.
Along with a patchwork of glossy ultramarine ceramic tiles the walls outside were painted a pale blue… or had been, several years ago. The paint had since chipped and cracked along with the rest of the facade. But in Ishval now the once lavish, now humble house was a rarity with walls that were intact and hardly touched by mortar shells, and the team was promised that there were oil lamps and running water.
They filed inside, all of them relieved to see a clean interior that was largely free from sand particles. Despite the generous size the house had a simple layout, just a sitting room and a kitchen off the side of a large bedroom on the ground floor, and two bedrooms upstairs. When coordinating the official visit the local authorities made them aware that there were three twin beds and a pull out couch in the large bedroom on the lower level, and a master bedroom with a smaller bedroom beside it. Havoc, Breda, Falman, and Fuery had drawn straws on the train ride over to determine who would be sleeping on the couch, with poor Falman as the unlucky couch inhabitant. But they still squabbled as they entered the downstairs bedroom, and there was a rustle as they claimed beds.
Riza looked over Mustang, and he motioned to the stairs to show that she could go first. When they made their way to the upper level the floorboards creaked beneath their feet as they arrived in the hallway that led to the two single bedrooms.
“You should take the master bedroom,” he offered, turning to her.
She shook her head. “You’re the C.O. It’s only right that you take it.” She peeked inside. It was surprisingly bigger than any bedroom that she had ever had. There was a large bed in the center- a king or queen, she couldn’t tell- and a carved wooden chair by the window, which overlooked the town. At least there was no shortage of bathrooms in the house, with two ensuites on the upper floor. One thing was for sure. “I think it's bigger than any room I've stayed in during a military assignment." Not that she was in the habit of taking vacations with the workload she endured.
“All the more reason for you to take it.” He moved behind her into the smaller room, and she heard a soft thump as he cast his suitcase onto the bed. Along with the couch downstairs the bedding all appeared to be brand new. With guilt she imagined a local citizen making the bed- fluffing the pillows, tucking in the corners of the bed sheet, and laying out the quilt just so- knowing that it would be for the military’s benefit and convenience. “Besides, don’t you want to be first in line if there’s danger in the hall?”
He anticipated her concerns as he so frequently did. “Yes, sir.” Striding into the room, she laid her small suitcase on the wood chair by the window. The windowpanes also appeared to be new additions to the house. Like the rest of them she hadn’t packed much, just the basics that she would need over the week that they would be staying in Ishval.
“It’s oh-16 hundred,” she called to him. “What time do you want to convene?”
The walls must have been made thin because she could hear his voice very clearly. “We should give the men a chance to rest.” She understood the logic; it had been a long train ride and they had all woken up early. Besides, they didn’t have any meetings until tomorrow. “Maybe after an early dinner.”
“Good idea, sir.”
“I’m not hungry yet. Do you want to go find something to eat in an hour?” His voice was closer now and she glanced back to see him standing in the doorway, his hand on the frame. While her superior respected her opinion, and listened when she voiced it, he rarely proactively asked for it. His thoughts now were clear to her- while they had forged a bond years before, it was here in this territory, during the war, that his professional depend on her was established. Laying beside each other from dusk to dawn and hidden from their comrades, he trusted her to protect him so that he could allow his meticulously guarded countenance to relax. Roy Mustang, the great Hero of Ishval, could slumber soundly at her side with a relaxed faced and body.
Riza nodded and moved towards the chair with her suitcase, unzipping it to pull out her bag of toiletries. She angled her body so that her back was to him, so that he could not see the package wrapped in brown paper that was tucked between neatly folded piles of civilian clothing. They had decided that given the ishvallan’s distrust of the State Military that it would be better to not wear their uniforms during their visit. “We still need to check in with city hall to let the local AIA we've arrived. I can walk down there, the center is only open until 17-hundred.”
AIA, also known formerly as the Amestrian-Ishval Alliance, was the program founded following Mustang’s commitment to the restoration of the region. There were outposts in every major ishvallan city, the Daliha branch being located in a brand-new building; purposefully a convenient few blocks from the rented house where they were staying.
Her legs felt cramped from sitting in a crowded train car and she was interested in seeing how the town had progressed since they had last stayed there. From what she had seen in their short trip from the train station, there were a lot of reconstruction projects that had captured her eye. Maybe if she witnessed them, see the ishvallan's growth from their destruction, it would quell her worries about their stay.
Out of the corner of her eye she saw him frown deeply. “Absolutely not by yourself. I'll go with you.”
"Sir,” she began, turning to meet his eyes. "We agreed that it would be better for you to stay out of the public as much as possible.” His presence in the community was anticipated to be unpopular, to say the least. From her bag she retrieved a wide linen scarf, sage green, which she draped over her head and threw one end over her shoulder. Blonde hair and blue eyes were viewed as stereotypical of Amestrians by ishvallans, and there were reports of a few fair-haired Amestrian soldiers being harassed by locals in smaller villages. Daliha, being a large town with a wider mix of ethnicities was expected to be safer, but both she and Havoc were cautioned to cover their heads while on the street.
By Mustang’s sour expression Riza could sense his dislike for that agreement.
“Alright,” he conceded after a moment. “But only if you take Havoc with you. And if you don’t come back in an hour we’ll come looking for you."
She nodded. “That’s fair. Now can you please stop worrying about me and focus on preparing yourself for our meeting with the local delegates tomorrow?”
“Yes, Lieutenant,” he returned with a trace of mirth. She glanced back to see a grin playing across his lips as he stepped back from the door frame, allowing her to exit. Her own lips curved into an earnest smile as she heard his footsteps fading down the hall.
Havoc agreed heartily in accompanying her on her walk, and they set out with no fanfare from the remainder of the men.
The tower, the one that she knew every corner and nook so intimately, was destroyed. Only the stump of the base remained, the high spire reduced to a dusty jumble of bricks and stucco- maybe by the hellish clap of the damned Crimson Alchemist, or by a bomb that was crudely manufactured by the rebel townspeople.
But it was of no matter who destroyed the column- the building that she knew was no more.
Riza had taken pause to survey it, Havoc waiting patiently a few yards away, although she was unsure of what she was looking to find. The peace of that tower remained the single, faintest constructive memory that she held of the war. But she found that she could only be glad. In the place of the column, the ishvallans were building a house. Four men of varying ages- one with a horrible burn across his face, neck, and shoulder- were heaving wooden beams across their shoulders and planting them into the stiff, crumbled earth. Young women wielding hammers drove nails into the beams to secure them to the newly fortified foundation.
Swiping her bangs, limp with sweat, from her eyes, Riza continued. Havoc followed, scanning their perimeter cautiously as they walked. Maybe Mustang was right about bringing the blond along. Riza’s painful remembrance seemed to stall her keen sense of security. This was Havoc’s first visit to the region, as it was for the rest of their party, save for her and Mustang of course.
A large contingent of ishvallans moved back into the town following the end of the war, and as she paced the streets she marveled at the number of people bustling around. With Havoc straightening his cap they made their way to the center of the town where she knew that city hall was located.
Along the way was the once-famed Daliha market. Stalls clothed with brightly-colored canvas awnings lined the streets and alleys- blue, red, yellow, and green. In the relentlessly hot air the fragrant scent of curried stews, baked bread, and honeyed pastries were carried by every feeble breeze. Some vendors noticed the pair immediately, and many tried to call them over to their stall, but they were mostly watched with suspicious stares. Riza knew that she appeared an obvious outsider with her fair skin and brown eyes, even if her blonde hair was obscured by her scarf. Still, they were reasonably safe in such a public space.
A man in tan and white robes approached the pair with a brazen smile, his hands full of a basket of strange fruits. Havoc, admitting that he was rather hungry, stopped to browse the options, attempting to haggle with broken ishvallan.
“Amestrian!”
Riza looked over at the sound of the voice and found it coming from a dark booth. She could see a lone woman sitting inside, beckoning to her.
“You are looking for something,” the woman crooned, beckoning her closer still. She was sitting behind a round table.
“I haven’t seen anything that I want to buy,” the lieutenant answered candidly.
The woman laughed and shook her head. “What you are looking for cannot be bought, young woman.” When Riza stared at her blankly, she motioned to a chair opposite hers, with a deep brown wooden table between them. “Come, sit.”
Riza ducked under the awning and took the seat. Beneath her feet laid a richly textured rug, and around the stall, crystals glistened in the dim light. “I didn’t think that your faith allowed fortune telling.”
Just as she entered, so did a woman from the back of the tent. Her long white hair splayed over her shoulders and upper back, and in her hands was a small parcel wrapped in blue and pink-printed cloth. She looked at Riza in confusion, then obvious malcontent.
“I only divine what ishvalla’s vision,” the old woman told Riza, smiling with full lips. She didn't acknowledge the woman in the back of the tent. “I illuminate the way to people who are searching for his light.”
Riza shook her head. “I’m sorry, but I’m not a believer.”
“It doesn’t matter. ishvalla has given me this gift so that I might help those who need it. Would you like to know more?”
Riza hesitated. She certainly didn’t think that she needed any illumination, but she desired to learn more about the culture. Her previous, terrible, experience in Ishval served only to destroy the people who lived there. Today began the government's (and by extension, her own) attempt to nurture them, and reconstruct their society.
And, she was curious.
She reached for her billfold in the pocket of the jacket she wore. “How much does it cost?”
The old woman laughed. “For heretics, it is free. You may draw one card to show you your fate.”
Riza pursed her lips together but nodded. “Alright."
The woman produced a worn stack of cards, and Riza watched as she shuffled them between her weathered hands. After a minute, she stopped and set down the stack before fanning it out on the table between them. “Choose a card. It is yours.”
Riza looked over the cards. Only the backs faced her, each an identical pattern of purple stars and green diamonds against a yellow background. She reached for a random card, but her hand stalled. Her fingers, usually so certain and sure, were pulled to another direction to hover over another card, which seemed to pulse beneath her palm. After a pause, she picked up that card and flipped it over before laying it down on the table. On the face there was an image of a man and a woman, smiling, naked, and holding hands under a glowing sun. ishvallan lettering sprawled across the bottom which, despite the extended time she served in the area, Riza could not decipher. “What does it mean?”
“Ah,” the woman chuckled, her red eyes glinting. “It is very interesting that you draw this card. It is a very powerful card. It means a union of duality. It signifies a binding of two bodies to create something better, something whole. But it is not absolute- a choice must be made. You must decide what path on which to embark to become complete.”
Skeptically, Riza stared at the card. With clasped hands, the figures beamed at her. Their feet were bare and dirty. Behind them was a shadowy mountain. From the darkness came a narrow road, which wound through the gradient of shadows. It split in different directions through the verdant field, with just one branch arriving to lay beneath the couple. “How do I know what path to take?”
"You first open your eyes to what is inside of you. The materials are there-” The ishvallan pointed her long finger to the center of Riza's chest. "They are waiting for you to uncover them. They call to you, don't they? Perhaps you do not want to cast light upon them, but you know that they live in your heart, in your soul."
Riza swallowed. “The writing here, at the bottom… what does it mean?”
The woman smiled, showing rows of teeth yellowed by age. “It is the name of the card. It is called The Lovers.”
Laleh had already set aside the freshly-baked bread she brought her grandmother, and waited until the woman in the green scarf left before speaking. "Avino, why would you read for that Amestrian?” she demanded, directing her ire at her grandmother as the old woman tidied up the small table.
Her grandmother gently hummed, as if she was not at all surprised at the disbelief expressed by her granddaughter. “ishvalla has tasked me with bringing his light to others- even heretics."
“Travelers from Xing are one thing," Laleh argued. “Amestrians destroyed our home."
She commenced digging through the large satchel she carried over her shoulder.
“Nepino," the fortune teller sighed. “As I have told you before. I do not wish to perpetuate an era of hate and fear."
“It's only been a few years-"
“And when you are as old as I am, you will see that the world changes each day, for better or worse. We do better, in ishvalla’s name." From a few earthen pots she gathered a dozen dried herbaceous flowers, which she rolled around a small branch that grew from a red bush that grew around the outskirts of Daliha. She then wrapped the entire bundle with fragrant twine.
Laleh found what she was looking for: a journal hand-bound in tanned leather. With reverence she touched the name inscribed on the front before slowly flipping through the parchment pages, scanning through pictures of faces and accompanying text. She stopped when she found the image she sought.
"Besides,” the fortune teller continued, lighting the entire bundle aflame and allowing the smoke to sweep over the array of cards before her. “We don't know if that woman was at all involved in the war."
Staring at the picture, Laleh shook her head. “We do know, Avino."
Because she was nearly certain the woman in the green scarf was the Hawk’s Eye.