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Riza Hawkeye knew something was wrong.

Maybe it was the gut feeling that consumed her whenever something went astray, or the sincerely strong connection she had to the Flame Alchemist. Or maybe it was the way King Fuhrer Bradley shot up from his seat at his desk abruptly, as if he had sensed some kind of disturbance in the atmosphere, and urged Riza to stay in her spot rather than trail behind him like he had been ordering her to do for the past few days.

The blonde knew that whatever unnerving feeling she was experiencing was Roy's doing. She didn't know how she knew, nor did she understand what he had done, but she just knew. That's the only way she could describe it. She had no proof and no logical explanation for her reasoning. She wasn't as intuitive or perceptive as (Y/n), but somehow whenever it came to Roy Mustang there was no question in what she felt.

The Lieutenant stood stiffly in Bradley's chilled office, hands folded behind her back and sweat beading down her forehead. Her face was blank, eyes half lidded making her appear to be unconcerned with her intuition. In that moment, the silence that filled the space was deafeningly loud and she was suddenly aware of how uncomfortably the stiff material of her uniform was rubbing against her skin. She felt useless. When she was with Roy, by his side 24/7, she didn't have to worry so much about his well being. She had become something of a nagging mother to him, constantly checking to make sure he was caught up with his paperwork and state issued tasks. Roy Mustang, who would parade around eccentrically and proudly, was practically an overgrown child. He was smart and level headed, but he behaved in a child like manner that made Riza want to wring out his neck on occasion. Even amidst all the scolding she'd have to enforce upon her former superior, his company lightened her heart and brought soft smiles to her calm face.

Riza was loyal to Roy, and to Roy only. It felt awful to be standing in his enemy's office, to be following his orders like a brainwashed pet instead of following the Colonel into hell like she had promised to. She felt utterly useless, being unable to reach out to him in any way other than in a strictly professional matter. He hadn't contacted her outside of work, therefore she didn't dare to contact him. She didn't want to get him into any more trouble than he already was in, but it seemed that he had done a fine job of doing that on his own. What had the idiot done now?

She didn't know how bad it was. She didn't know if he was alright, physically or mentally. She wasn't sure how he was dealing with Maes' death, nor was she certain about his obsession with finding Envy. But she knew something was wrong, and that was enough to make her itch to move. But she couldn't disobey direct orders from Roy's superiors. She'd get into so much trouble, and it would likely have severe ramifications on both Roy and the teenage alchemists. She didn't want that, she was a loyal soldier. The brown eyed woman would obey her orders and do what she was told, no matter what. That was what Roy wanted her to do, right? He wouldn't want her to let her emotions take over. He wouldn't want her to run after him, to make sure that he was alright when she had been specifically told to stay put. He wouldn't want her to risk her own life for him. So she stayed put, and stood incredibly still by Wrath's desk. She stood there for what felt like hours, though in reality it was around forty five minutes. She hadn't moved an inch, not even to lift a finger to scratch her face. She stood and waited, pushing down her concerns and putting on a brave face. It's what Roy would have wanted her to do, so she did.

After what felt like ages, the door to the office creaked open and Hawkeye's body stiffened impossibly further upon anticipating the entrance of the Homunculus Fuhrer. She prepared for her orders, and tried not to look put off by the enraged expression on his face that the dark haired man was not trying very hard to hide. His frown lines were emphasized by his deep frown and the curve in his brows, and he looked at Riza as if she were the root of his anger.

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