Disclaimer: I do not own FMA, FMA's characters, or my soul.
A/N: OOC, AU, blah blah blah. R/R plz, kthxbai
Lt. Colonel Roy Mustang first met Riza Hawkeye when she wandered into his tent by accident. Having just been promoted, Mustang had been given his own tent. If it was an incentive to keep silent about the military's less than moral actions or if it was just because no one else wanted a tent that had once been occupied by a now dead man (and there were lots of them), he didn't know, nor did he care to dwell on it.
Riza Hawkeye was at the camp because her father thought it would be good for his shy, easily startled daughter to have a harsh, eye-opening look at what the real world was like. Not so secretly, it was because he longed for a son but, got Riza instead. So, consciously, he refused to acknowledge that she was a fragile female, and thought that he could somehow transform her into a son. But, far too often he left his daughter to her own devices in the camp, too close to the battlefield, and Mustang had often seen her clinging to a nurse or huddled behind crates or under blankets, hands clamped over her ears to drown out the noise of death.
Mustang's first thought when she appeared in his tent was to charm her into his bed. Despite her being a General's daughter, he knew that with the right words and promises she would never breathe a word of it to anyone. And she was a pretty, young thing with wide eyes, new breasts, and the pouty lips likening to a child's.
Then he noticed she was shaking. Riza wrung her hands and blinked away tears, her mouth moved to make an apology but, no sound escaped her throat. She was afraid of her current situation and the constant fear surrounding her daily was scarring her so deeply, he could practically see her wounds.
Instead of seducing her, of coaxing her near, he invited her. He held out his hand and beckoned with his fingers. His voice was soft and warm as he whispered, "Its okay. You can hide here." She hesitated, backing away to leave where she had come in. Then an explosion, followed by Major Kimbley's cackling laughter if you listened hard enough, echoed throughout the camp. The ground shook slightly and Riza screamed, clamping her hands over her ears. Unconsciously, he was sure, he moved to her, not sure what to do once he got there. But she launched into his chest, hands still over her ears, and she tried to bury herself into his rib cage. He wrapped his arms around her and held her lightly, one arm around her shoulders, one hand rubbing her back gently. He wanted to coo to her, "It'll all be over soon, its okay," but, he knew it was a lie. So instead he whispered, "Shh, shh. I'll protect you. I'll protect you."
When the explosions were farther away, Riza's sobs had slowed to deep breaths and hiccups. As he looked down on her, he noticed how much like a child she was, despite knowing that he was only a few years older than her. A child, who didn't need a General for a father or a lover for the night. She needed someone to protect her, as simple as that.
"I assume," First Lt. Maes Hughes said as he sleepily entered the tent, "that as your best friend, I get dibs on sharing the really, really big tent with you." A moment passed as Hughes registered the scene before him: A crying Riza Hawkeye, daughter of General Hawkeye, in the arms of Lt. Colonel Roy Mustang. A lamb in the lion's den.
"Something's not right here," Hughes said, letting the flap fall closed behind him.
"Maes…" Mustang said, his voice both warning and pleading.
"The daughter of a General, Roy," Hughes pointed out, pointing at Riza, whose face was still buried in Mustang's chest. "Who doesn't look too willing-"
"You've got it all wrong," Mustang said, never letting go of her. She couldn't afford for him to let go.
"Oh, well, since I've got it all wrong, please explain!" Hughes said, fully expecting some wild excuse involving sex and loneliness and comfort.
"She needs someone to protect her," Mustang said.
"And you're just the man to do it then, aren't you?" Hughes mocked, throwing his hands in the air. But, being Mustang's best friend for years, he knew when to give up. "Hopefully," he said, as he made his way to an empty cot, "you'll get a wife out of this."
Riza spent the next few nights in that tent. She would huddle up against Mustang's back in his cot, since there were only two cots in the tent and Hughes had claimed the other one (So, really, Mustang had every right to blame Hughes for this part of his predicament.) Finding the comfort she sought, Riza would fall asleep soon after her head hitting the pillow, her fists balled up in Mustang's shirt. Mustang didn't sleep much those few days, as all he could think about was the womanly figure pressed up against him.
But, it was the right thing to do. He was protecting her. He would do something right by at least one woman in his life, even if he didn't get a wife out of it as Hughes hoped.
The first night she didn't appear, Mustang worried. But, as Hughes helpfully pointed out, it wouldn't do to go looking for her. As innocent as it seemed, the idea of a General's unmarried daughter sleeping not only in the bed of a known womanizer, but alone in a tent with two bachelors wouldn't exactly be welcomed by the higher-ups. In the morning, Hughes relayed to Mustang that General Hawkeye had sent his daughter home at her mother's request. Mustang worried that the woman had never learned his name.
Almost a year and an impending promotion later, Lt. Colonel Roy Mustang casually strolled the hallways in Central, Second Lt. Jean Havoc at his side.
"I expect you'll come with me," Mustang was saying, his eyes dwelling on the newly emptied office that would soon have a plaque with his name on it, "to the top."
"As long as the women are more beautiful up there," Havoc mocked, a sly grin on his face, because he could still get away with it. "Speaking of beautiful women…" Havoc was staring straight ahead at a blue uniform running towards them.
"Lt. Colonel Mustang!" the uniform called out in all too familiar voice, although Mustang had never really heard it. The blue uniform, covering the lovely form of Riza Hawkeye, came to a stop in front of the two men. She saluted, and from the insignia on her chest, Mustang could tell that she was now a Major.
The two men saluted back, and Mustang couldn't help but smile. "Major Hawkeye, when did you join the military?"
"As soon as I returned from the battlefront, sir," she said. He noticed she was no longer shaking. When had this happened?
"I would like to be placed under you command, Lt. Colonel," she continued, never dropping her salute or her eyes.
"Oh? That all depends, Major," he said, because when it came to his life and ambitions, he had no need for a child, even one as beautiful as Riza Hawkeye. "Will you curl up in my bed again at the first sign of gunfire?"
She blushed, and Havoc had the decency to excuse himself and step around the corner. Mustang hadn't meant to humiliate her. He just wanted to know if her front was the real thing. After all, lesser women had tried it before.
"I promise," she said, regaining her composure, "that I will never hesitate again."
"How can I be sure?" he asked.
"I have something to protect now," she said, a little bit softer. "I always repay my debts." Before he could reply, she added, "And I promise never to be in your bed again."
Mustang couldn't help but laugh. He saluted her again and said, "I look forward to working with you, Major." He caught her smile as he walked past her.
As he turned the corner, Havoc slid up beside him, his stride matching Mustang's.
"You had her in you bed?" Havoc asked, his voice pleading for details.
"Watch out for that one," Mustang said instead. "You've been in the military twice as long as she has, and she already outranks you."