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Alex Armstrong’s Lessons in Love

1. The Rabbit’s Foot bar, Central, 1910

Armstrong entered the crowded bar and searched the patrons for a familiar face. He spotted Hughes at a table by the big open fire. A dark-haired man was sitting next to him. When Hughes saw him coming, he waved him over. The people parted in front of him. It was one of those benefits of his musculature.

When he reached the table, he bowed his head. “Hughes, thank you for inviting me.”

“Major Armstrong, meet my best friend, Lieutenant Colonel, Roy Mustang.” Hughes put his arm around the other man. “You might have crossed paths considering you’re both state alchemists.”

Of course, he knew who the man was. He was the Hero of Ishval. He had seen with his own eyes the power that the man wielded. The destruction he wrought in the desert was a terrible sight to behold. Even now, he could recall the stench of the charred remains. A smell that he would never forget for as long as he lived.

Armstrong nodded again and saluted the man. “We have indeed.”

“There’s no need for that, Major.” Mustang held out his hand. “We’re not in uniform.”

Armstrong shook his hand, although the other man wouldn’t meet his eyes. Did his cowardice in Ishval disgust him? He was about to excuse himself to go get a drink when another person joined them. The blonde woman sat on the other side of Mustang. He wondered if she was Mustang’s sweetheart.

“Hawkeye, this is Major Armstrong,” Mustang said.

Hawkeye? The name sounded familiar. The sharpshooter? Could it be? Now, looking at the way she held herself, it was plain to see she was military.

Her eyes widened and her cheeks coloured. “My apologies, Major, I didn’t see you there.”

Hughes chuckled. “It is kind of funny, don’t you think?”

She frowned. “What do you mean, Hughes?”

“The Hawk’s Eye,” Armstrong clarified. “Rumour has it you are the best sharpshooter Amestris has ever seen.”

“She is,” Mustang said softly.

The Lieutenant Colonel turned to Hawkeye. They didn’t say a word but Armstrong fancied they were having a full-blown conversation. Hughes didn’t seem phased by their companions. In fact, he was looking at them fondly. Perhaps Hawkeye was Mustang’s girl after all?

Eventually, Mustang tore his eyes away, “So, Hughes, can you tell us, have you and Gracia set a date for the wedding?”

Ah, rule number one, ‘Don’t mention the war.’

2. Hughes Wedding, Central, 1910

Hughes’ face was alight with happiness. Armstrong smiled to see the groom dance with his bride, his happiness mirrored in hers. Their joy was contagious. The Major loved weddings and hoped to have his own someday if he was lucky enough. After a few dances of his own, he decided he needed a rest and some refreshment.

Despite the joyous occasion, Hughes’ best man sat in the corner, a contemplative expression on his face. Armstrong had gotten to know the man better since meeting him in the bar but he still wasn’t sure what to make of him. He got the feeling the man needed a kind ear and that was something that Armstrongs were good at.

He walked over to the table and sat down beside him. “Mustang?”

The other man looked up and nodded. “It’s nice to see them so happy, isn’t it? If anyone deserves happiness, Hughes does.”

The man wasn’t quite slurring his words but was clearly on his way to being well inebriated.

Armstrong inclined his head. “Indeed, and Gracia is a lovely woman.”

Mustang smiled. “She sure is.” He scanned the floor like he was looking for someone. “You know, it gives us all hope that maybe someday we can be happy.” He paused, his gaze had settled on Hawkeye, who was conversing with one of the other guests. “Even with all the blood on our hands.” He tore his eyes away and looked at Armstrong, “Never be sorry for what you did. You did the right thing, the brave thing.” He turned his head away. “We were the cowards.”

Armstrong’s eyes widened. The words were spoken a little too freely, perhaps ones that the man wouldn’t remember sharing the following morning. But Armstrong never forgot them or the wistful look on the man’s face as he watched Hughes take Hawkeye’s hand for a turn around the floor.

Lesson number two, ‘Never fall in love with your subordinate.’

3. Military Headquarters, Central, 1915

Armstrong was never sure if Hawkeye felt the same about Mustang until the day he saw her outside Headquarters waiting by her car. She stood ramrod straight but he could see from her trembling hands that she was upset about something.

“What are you doing, Lieutenant?”

She saluted and clicked her heels together. Up close, he could see she looked exhausted.

“I’m waiting for the Colonel, sir.”

He lifted an eyebrow. “It’s a strange place to be waiting for him.”

She lowered her voice. “He went to see some of the Generals hours ago but I haven’t seen him since.” She met his gaze and lowered her voice. “Could you please see if you can find out anything?”

“Of course, Lieutenant, but first you need to take a break and go get some food. Forgive my honesty but you look like you are about to fall down. I’ll mind your post.”

She bit her lip looking uncharacteristically childlike. It lasted only a moment before she nodded.

“I’ll be right back,” she said.

“Don’t worry, Lieutenant, I won’t go anywhere.”

He watched her go and wondered how many hours she had been standing there and why she was so rattled. 

It wasn’t long before Mustang returned, looking breathless. The Colonel's eyes widened when he saw him. Armstrong would have laughed if the man didn’t look so shaken.

“Hm? You don’t look well, Colonel.”

“Do you think any man would look pleased to see a moustachioed muscleman in place of the young woman he was expecting?”

Bemused, Armstrong watched Mustang look around frantically. He had just opened his mouth to put him out his misery when Hawkeye returned.

“Colonel!!”

Her whole body visibly relaxed at his appearance.

Mustang’s “Are you alright?” was softly spoken and Armstrong suddenly felt like an interloper.

“You were gone so long, I was afraid you weren’t going to come back.” Her words came out in a rush. Then she remembered they had company and saluted Mustang. “Hm? Oh! Excuse me! Lieutenant Hawkeye reporting back from the latrine, sir.”

Armstrong bit back a smile. Nice try but no cigar as Olivier would say.

“Major Armstrong passed by and was kind enough to watch my post for a few moments.” Hawkeye bowed her head. “Thank you very much, Major.”

He inclined his head. “Think nothing of it.”

“So, you didn’t flee...” Mustang started.

“Who do you think it was that told me to never give up, no matter what?”

He ran his fingers through his hair. “Just don’t tell me later that you wish you had run away, Lieutenant.”

Hawkeye’s reaction told him everything he needed to know. She was madly in love with Mustang.

Lesson three, ‘Never let your love be used against you.’

4. Cental Hospital,  Aftermath of Promised Day, 1915

Mustang was without his sight but the way his flames had pinpoint accuracy, you would never know it. Mustang and Hawkeye worked together effortlessly in the final battle, almost as if they were the one person. Armstrong had seen them fight together before but this was unparalleled considering one was blind and the other had almost bled to death only hours before.

Armstrong was at the hospital after getting his own wounds seen to when he passed Rebecca Catalina.

“Catalina, have you seen Lieutenant Hawkeye and Colonel Mustang?”

She nodded. “Yeah, I’ve just been to see Riza. Mustang’s out like a light. God knows how he can sleep with the noise.” She jerked her head down the corridor. “It’s the third door on your left.”

“Thank you, Catalina,” Armstrong said. “I might at least have a word with Hawkeye.”

“Oh, and be careful, Major.” She smirked and waggled her eyebrows. “They snagged a private room. Some people might gossip but never me.”

He laughed in reply. “I’m sure it’s entirely above board especially since the Colonel needs another pair of eyes.”

“Oh, of course.” Despite her words, Catalina’s eyes still gleamed with mischief. She waved before continuing on her way. “See you around, Major.”

Armstrong walked down the corridor. He knocked softly on the door but there was no reply. He opened it slowly and stopped in the doorway.

Hawkeye was sitting on the edge of Mustang’s bed, head bent over Mustang. His hand was in her hair. Armstrong coughed announcing his presence. The two officers pulled apart. Hawkeye looked at him in horror, her hand clapped to her mouth.

“I didn’t see anything,” Armstrong beamed at them and turned around. He paused for a moment, his hand on the door handle. “I’ve heard that there’s nothing better at healing than true love.”

Lesson four, ‘Never get caught in a compromising position.’

5. Central, 1930

On Mustang’s inauguration day as Fuhrer, Armstrong couldn’t have been happier for him. The new Fuhrer brought with him an energy and optimism that had been lacking under both Bradley and Grumman. It helped that right away, he announced his intention to hand over some power to the people, which made him popular but ruffled the feathers of the conservatives.  Armstrong had thought then that it would not be long before the engagement announcement of Mustang and Hawkeye would come.

He remembered the new Fuhrer kissing Hawkeye’s hands giddily after the ceremony.

“Sir,” she had scolded, “Anyone could be watching.”

“Don’t you mean, Fuhrer,” Mustang had retorted.

But the expected engagement announcement never came, the Central Times reported that they had married in a private ceremony two days after Mustang had handed over the government of the country to the people. That was to be expected. A quick marriage before they started rounding up the soldiers and alchemists that fought in Ishval and put them on trial for war crimes. Olivier told him, for the first and only time, she was happy he was a traitor to his country when he was told he wasn’t going to be tried. Mustang and Hawkeye wouldn’t be so lucky considering their kill count. Still, he hoped their work for the betterment of Amestris would be in their favour because after sacrificing so much, a few years of happiness should not be too much to ask.

Lesson five, ‘Never leave it too late to be happy.’