Chapter Text
In Amestris, it was common knowledge that the tamarisk was a noxious plant. It changed the salinity of the soil, slowly poisoning other kinds of vegetation. Major Armstrong was famous for his efforts with the Central City Environmental Office to uproot and exterminate the thin, bushy tree from gardens and plazas. The Major’s comically strong half-naked figure was seen from all corners of downtown carrying armfuls of blooming tamarisks. A flurry of pale rosy petals made the scene seem proper for a picture show, or a matinee musical.
Maria couldn’t believe that was the first thought that crossed her mind when she saw tamarisk branches approaching on the horizon. She had dreamed of vegetation - anything but greying brush - for the entire journey through the Great Desert. The dawn painted the dunes with soft flames, and the tamarisk flowers cascading down the retorted trunk seemed to glow, angular like bullet shards, against a gouache sky. It seemed impossible as sublime things are, and Maria’s lip quivered before she could stop herself.
More importantly, though, was the fact that she was seeing evergreen, bushy vegetation in that wretched desert. Maria had grown to love and loathe the Great Desert, and love it again, and loathe it harder, in both times she had crossed its thin sands. The discomfort from the trip was manageable compared to what that vastness did to her head. The buzzing of the wind sounded like physical silence, and her companions - Fu, the guide, even the horses - much too reserved to relieve her from being crushed by the infinity of that pale ocean.
“Hrm.” Mister Fu’s cleared his throat beside her, yanking Maria from her reverie with a start. “It seems like we’re early. I wasn’t expecting to see chēngliǔ until later in the day.”
“It means we’re close to the edge, right?”, breathed Maria, trying to curb her excitement.
Mister Fu stared at some point away from the tamarisks for a long time. “A day and a half,” he declared. “If your friend really meets us as promised.”
Maria waited a little more, but soon resigned herself to the realization her companion wouldn’t say anything else. She went back to admiring the view again. The dunes now looked like mountains of gold under a lighter sky, and warmth began to surround them.
She loved and loathed the Great Desert because it was a long moment that stretched forever. Dawn and twilight, high noon, deep night - nothing moved forward, only circled and circled like water stirred with a Xingese brush. Time wasn’t. And so, Maria could be just Maria: pastless, futureless Maria Ross on her horse treading the white lumps of the world.
Mister Fu stirred his horse forward. After a moment, Maria followed. Soon it would be scorching, and they had to keep moving before midday was upon the desert.
Rebecca Catalina was the kind of woman Maria would pine for in dancing bars, back when she was still a regular person going to Amestrian bars. Maria didn’t feel her blood rush because of the sight of Catalina herself, though; she blushed because the other woman was carrying a jug of what looked to be apple juice with a bandaged hand, and because she was mounted on a (real, motorized, fashioned with leather seats) truck. But mostly because Rebecca Catalina was Amestrian: she looked Amestrian - whatever that meant at that point - and called for them in Amestrian with a cheerful Southeastern accent. After those long months away from home, Catalina embodied everything Maria desired the most at that moment.
(And because Catalina was wearing a light blouse that made her shape akin to a dream, especially as she stood up and waved like that, against the late afternoon light. Maria let go of her horse’s reins and tightened her ponytail until her scalp hurt)
“Ayoo! Welcome home!” Catalina yelled when Maria and Mister Fu were close enough, jumping from the truck. “I assume that you’re Fu of the Yao, and this is our honorable guest?”
Maria did her best to disguise a grimace as she dismounted, and saluted. “Maria Ross, ready to serve. You must be 2nd Lieutenant Catalina.”
She was surprised when Catalina interrupted her with a brusque “at ease” gesture with her injured hand, her eyes open wide. “You are back in the wolf’s den, dear.”
Maria felt her forced smile disappear. Her hands squeezed the reins again, cold with shame. Cold with-
"Miss Catalina," Mister Fu's hoarse, heavily accented voice filled the space. "I have no intention to offend, but we have a protocol to follow."
Rebecca's demeanor shifted at once to one of a soldier, and Maria felt less tense. "Yes, sir," she proclaimed, clear and firm, while reaching for the bandages. "Here you go."
She unwrapped the cloth, revealing her pristine hand and holding the gauze to Mister Fu. He took it, examining it carefully. Maria leaned sideways to peek; a rectangular area made of denser fabric was filled with fine calligraphy, despite the inevitable bleeding of ink.
Maria didn't know what was the expected code; she and Mister Fu were given different instructions, for her own safety. The old man raised his head to look at Catalina, his face inscrutable. Catalina waited with martial calm.
Then Mister Fu suddenly turned to face Maria, eyes boring into hers. "You can still turn around."
He was curt, almost harsh. But Maria had come to know him through their silences, and her heart swelled so much it even hurt. She turned fully towards him, clapping her hands and bowing slightly.
“Thank you, Mister Fu. But I have a mission here, like you.”
Fu frowned at her, but Maria saw a streak of melancholy in his hardened features. He bowed back at her, and stretched out his hand.
“If you say so, Xiǎo Mahlia. May our paths cross under the shade.”
Maria felt his grip linger heavily in her empty hand after entering Rebecca Catalina’s truck. (And months later, when she learned of Fu’s fate after the dust had cleared, it weighted more than ever when she raised her hand to wipe her tears)
The women rode in silence most of the way to their safehouse. Maria tried to bring herself to start a conversation, but exhaustion started to settle in every inch of her bones, and her jaw felt heavy. The truck’s leather seats were almost completely peeled off, revealing the fabric underneath. Maria reveled in the soft textures after so many days sitting on hard saddles. They rode down a dusty, abandoned road lined with bushes and non-flowering tamarisks, and fifteen minutes down their path Rebecca took a detour that led to a beaten-off path down the backlands. It was almost too narrow for the truck to make it through, but a meeting point for sneaking in and out of the borders had to be hidden enough. Maria tried to enjoy the sight of the dying afternoon in pink, trying to ignore the potholes and Rebecca’s curses when they couldn’t avoid the particularly nasty ones.
“You are very pretty.”
Maria blinked, and turned her head away from the approaching evening. “Sorry?”
“You are very pretty.” Rebecca repeated, not averting her concentrated gaze from the road. “Especially with the long hair. Your pictures don’t do you justice.”
Rebecca’s silhouette seemed to flow against the striking sunset, a noticeable sparkle shining in her eye even though she never took her gaze from the road. Maria swallowed, despite her tiredness.
“Thank you,” Maria muttered. “So are you.”
Rebecca half-turned to look at her, a smirk playing in her thin lips. “Why, thank you. Once this is all settled and fixed up, we should hang out.”
Maria wasn’t prepared for that candidness, and she stared at Rebecca blankly. Her mind was filling up with fog, dark like the night behind them.
“I guess,” she managed to croak, and her throat grew dry. Maria had missed Amestris in ways she never thought possible, but for months she had trained herself to nip every desire for her past life in the bud. Her life had been good as far as it had lasted, but Maria was a dead woman. The dead can’t be settled or fixed up.
There were a few moments of silence before she noticed a motion from Rebecca and a volume being haphazardly thrown on her lap. It was the apple juice jug.
“Here,” Rebecca said, without looking at Maria. “Drink some more.”
Instead Maria held the jug on her lap, slightly annoyed. The sun was completely gone from their view when Rebecca turned her head in her direction, serious as a crow.
“You need to rehydrate, Ross. You are in a bad shape” She declared truthfully, in a tone closer to an order than a request. “You are indeed prettier than your pictures, but the pictures were also very bad quality.”
Maria’s head rested against the back of the seat. “How charming.”
“I know right? I'm a catch.”
Maria didn’t respond.
“Drink up, Maria.”
Rebecca adjusted on her seat to see the road better in the coming darkness. They drove in silence for a long time before Maria finally unscrewed the jug’s lid. She drank greedily, almost spilling juice on her blouse. She wished she had let it splash it, and turned to Rebecca Catalina with a white blouse transparent with liquid, just for the pettiness of it all.
“Why are you here?” Maria’s voice was a little less hoarse.
“Same reason as you.”
“No.”
Rebecca arched an eyebrow.
“I just arrived from exile,” Maria rasped, anger covering each word. She didn’t understand why, but she couldn’t help herself. “I was safe. And I came to the wolf's den, like you put so well.”
Rebecca remained in silence for almost a minute before she answered. Patches of brightness seeped inside of the vehicle, making her look like a jigsaw puzzle. “You’re right.”
Maria gripped the jug’s handle with all her strength.
“My best friend, I don’t know if you’ve met her-” Rebecca continued, impassible. “-but my best friend is in a bad place too. Between the wolf’s jaws, if we can say that. Captive.”
“Captive?” Maria jumped a little at the word choice.
“In a way,” Rebecca conceded. “I don’t know all the details. But the enemy has her as his assistant. One wrong move, and she’ll squirm in his hands. Jaws.” She stole a look at Maria. “I adore her. And we may have some similar beliefs and all that. But for her, now, this is also about survival.”
Maria squinted a little, trying to make sense of the conversational shift. Rebecca seemed to adapt to the tone of chatter faster than she had ever seen. Either that, or Maria was simply too exhausted to understand her companion. But something Maria had learned as a woman in the male-dominated lines of the Amestrian military was that tempers were fickle, and swimming through emotional situations was a hard-earned skill. One Maria herself never fully achieved - Danny, sweet Danny, was better than her - but Rebecca seemed to master.
“What is her name?” Maria asked with disheartened curiosity, partially because there was a reasonable chance she knew of another woman in the military if they were in the same area, and partially out of embarrassment for her earlier posture. Her head had started to ache.
“Hawkeye.” Rebecca answered curtly.
“Odessa Hawkeye?”
“What? No, you’re thinking of Second Lieutenant Odessa Arthrye. The nurse, right? With the twins.” Maria nodded. Rebecca huffed under her breath. “No, Riza Hawkeye. First Lieutenant, Eastern HQ until recently transferred to Central. Aide to the Colonel for many years, but not anymore.”
“Oh.”
“...I think they had a thing going on.” Rebecca continued after a short silence, casual as if she was listing ranks from a detachment.
“Oh?”
“Yeah.”
Maria considered it, looking at the illuminated area ahead of their headlights. The invitation for gossip was clearly a peace offering. Rebecca cared about her friend and only divulged her name after being questioned, but she still was willing to talk about those matters if only to connect with her (beat-up, incredibly rude) colleague.
Maria looked at her hair, curly and full and certainly so soft to the touch. She wanted Rebecca to want her, even though Maria herself didn’t feel strong enough to want anyone in her state. She desperately wanted to be wanted, to feel wanted, to feel real.
Rebecca kept her eyes on the road.
A chuckle almost escaped Maria’s lips. How awkward could two coup-plotters in the arid Eastern area backroads be, anyway? How ridiculous was all of her sneaking back to the place of her de facto grave, riding on an uncomfortable bumpy road with a woman she’d rather be angrily making out with all drenched in sticky apple juice, when Maria knew she probably wouldn’t be able to kiss anyone before her uncertain end in springtime? How pathetic, when they could just close their eyes and live their peaceful lives like they both deserved?
“Tell me about it.”
The ride wasn’t going to last forever, after all.