Her first day back, to put it bluntly, was torture for her poor self. She had even been warned by Mustang on more than one occasion.

"I can tell you first hand that the kind of wound you have hurts like mad, but yours sadly is even more sever than mine was. So, on the instance that I find you trying too hard at work, I'll personally escort you out and to your home."

Moving around was something she thought would never hurt in itself, especially in the case of walking. Stepping into the office after practicing at the shooting range, her military coat in hand and hair still down, was relief to know walking- or any physical labor- was done for the day. She sat down at her own desk and started working on the papers for the day with her coat long forgotten on the floor beside her chair.

She picked up a pen she kept near the paper basket and held it in her hand as she prepared to read the first document.

"To the office of Colonel Roy Mustang: Date of return requested one week from the 11th. The fall..."

The lines started to blur as her eyes came closer and closer to closing in sleep. The dark bags under her eyes gave way of missed sleep, apparently from her want to step down any pain medications (giving way to insomnia) to return to work sooner. The irony in itself forced her to rub her eyes and try again, possibly coherently understanding the actual words she read.

"To the office of Colonel Roy Mustang: Date of return requested one week from the 11th. The fall military gala has issued a..."

Her attempts all proved futile as her eyes shut and her head came down to rest on top of her left arm holding the forlorn paper in place. Within thirty minutes of her embarrassing, unavoidable mishap, the team waltz through the door, chatting about the conversation they were talking about over lunch.

"Give it a rest, no girl is going to-" Breda was speaking, and by the context of "no girl," anyone could assume her was talking to Havoc.

Mustang cut him off when he, the first one to enter the room, spoke over the other man. "Be quiet, all of you..."

With peaked curiosity, the four other men loomed over the Colonel to see what the issue was. Still asleep was their very own Lieutenant Hawkeye, pen still in hand and prepared to write something.

"Aw, poor Hawkeye's all tuckered out!" Havoc cried with a real lack of seriousness.

"Better take a picture, this'll never happen again," was the first thing Breda responded with.

The though of an impending doom rained over then men's heads, and they made their way around the desks to surround the woman. All stayed quiet until Mustang peeled off his trench coat- which he had been wearing more recently due to the use of excursions and the weather deciding not to take a by-pass of the colder seasons- and placed it on top of the Lieutenant.

Four heads looked up to the man with Mustang not bothering to give in to their looks. Seconds ticked by on a clock hanging on the wall before something broke loose.

"Chief, I didn't know you had a heart!"

"Another picture! Two things in one day that we'll never see again in our lives!"

The men were starting to chat back and forth of who knows what when Mustang nearly whispered to them. "Just get to work already..."

The commotion halted and he received four bodies frozen in all sorts of over-exasperated forms. And then, in unison, he was greeted with soldiers at attention and shouting a "Yes, sir!" at him. They then dispersed to their own desks to start their own stacks of paper.

He, too, started on his own work. He would occasionally peek his head above his papers to check on the Lieutenant, who was dead to the world. He had decided to do his work for once, instead of goofing off or spending his time looking through records for personal issues. And the others in the office had copied his actions.

Around two in the afternoon, and after Mustang had figured Hawkeye had been asleep for approximately two hours, the papers had all been finished, including her own that were evenly distributed to the others in the room.

At first, when it was kind Fuery who had suggested it after finishing his stack first, he was given nothing more than apprehensive looks. Not until Falman continued the idea- "She does this all the time for us. One time doing her work won't kill us."- did they start on their second heaping. All were shocked at how quickly their work could be finished on a daily basis, as well as how quiet the office really could be in respect of the sleeping Lieutenant.

The stacks were lined up neatly on the Colonel's desk, and the men were again at salute in the closing of a short workday. He dismissed all four men, to which several gave concerned looks at Hawkeye or a word of advice to "Take care of her, now."

The door shut behind the group, and he was left alone with a person he obviously needed to have a scolding with. He stepped around his desk and planted himself to her right.

"Lieutenant..." he whispered as he gently shook her shoulder.

His response was a quiet "What?", nearly inaudible.

"Don't get up or anything, but you're asleep in the office and have been for two hours." He didn't allow her to jolt up- even though she didn't even attempt it- as her eyes slowly opened to his face. He pulled on her shoulders to seat her in an upright position, her eyes now only halfway open with her brain trying desperately to grasp everything.

"I should get you home. Come on," he softly spoke. Granted it was only two in the afternoon, if felt much later to Roy, what with the other members already home and any requirements to return to the office were gone. The only problem was getting an overly tired (and he hoped not pained) Lieutenant out of the building without much of a fuss in mid-afternoon.

With his hands still on her shoulders, she pushed herself up and used her hands to pull the coat closer to her. He guided her out the door and kept only one hand on her shoulder, obviously more than just a safety net with her brain still half asleep. They escaped without delay and into Roy's car parked behind Central. He situated her in the passenger's side, even buckling her up, before situating himself in the driver's seat to head off.

He swerved around until he reached the road and continued in a straight path for a while. "You know, if I hadn't forced the doctor to make your weaker pain pills into something of sleeping medication, I would think an apocalypse was happening," Roy mused, mainly to himself with his idea of Riza being asleep next to him.

"Can you just explain all this when I'm actually lucid? It's already quite discouraging that I've apparently fallen asleep at work..." she half-way mumbled.

Mustang couldn't contain a pure laugh at how clueless she was. "Big words for someone who shouldn't of even come to work today."

"Lecture me later, sir..." He hadn't realized it, but she had gotten her arms through his coat and was keeping it wrapped around her. Not until he peered over for a mere second to see her eyes closed did he notice just how well his recently discovered plan was working.

"What happened down there?" Mustang asked as he stepped out of the Lieutenant's hospital room.

"It's my fault, Sir," little Feury spoke up. All eyes were on him. "We had split up after you left to talk to the other military guard stationed at the entrance to the sewers. It was me and the Lieutenant and then Havoc and Breda. I started to fall behind when I noticed something move in the water, and when I got closer it was one of the murderers. He had a knife in his hand and was coming at me. Hawkeye shot at him, and it more than likely killed him since the bullet went straight to the head and he splashed back down into the water."

By now Mustang had made himself comfortable on the bench across from the three others. "She looked at me cautiously, as if she wanted me to hurry up. I got closer to her, but by then another murdered had snuck up behind me. His knife was about to stab me in the head when she... She grabbed me and covered me as he stabbed her side clean through her skin. He had gotten her at least three times before she was able to shoot him dead, too. But by then I... I could just tell she had already lost too much blood, it was starting to drip on to me."

"This couldn't of been long after we split up, or else I wouldn't of heard him scream for help," Havoc put in.

Mustang let out a sigh and closed his eyes, burying his face in his hands. "Whatever you do, don't blame yourself Fuery. She wouldn't of saved you otherwise. But just answer this... Why did she decide to cover you instead of immediately shooting at him?"

"He was already too close. The bullet would of hit after he had killed me."

Mustang couldn't help but feel a little concerned for Feury, too, now that he thought about it. He had been saved by the only female in their team, who he probably looked up to with her unbelievable shooting abilities. Had to be a nightmare to instead get covered in her blood. He saw it, too. It stained his left shoulder and he had streaks of it flowing from the top of his head down the side of his face, probably from Hawkeye crouching on top of him to prevent any blows what-so-ever.

"She kept grasping me tighter from the pain of the stabs, and at one point she clenched her teeth to stop blood from coming out." That explained why she had a trail of it coming from her mouth. "After she killed him, she asked if I was alright as if... as it I was the one who got hurt." His eyes were starting to get glossy, and all the men could tell he was attempting to keep them from falling. "Then she said sorry, I guess she saw the blood she kind of spit onto my head... The last thing she asked was if I could lay her down and to get help." A few small ones were dripping, and the other two men were having a problem themselves. "She was so calm... I didn't think that was possible for someone who was loosing so much blood... And I think she was doing that just for me..."

He would have to speak to the Lieutenant about that. She was too kind if she had forced her composure to be so calm for Feury, who had little experience in combat. But as he pulled up to the Lieutenant's apartment complex, he couldn't avoid what he saw.

"So, Lieutenant, do you-" he had turned off the car lights and was taking off the keys when he looked beside himself to see her asleep, her head resting on her left shoulder and puffs of cold breath coming out of her mouth.

He gave a nearly silent sigh as a small smile crept onto his face. "Honestly..." he sarcastically remarked. He unbuckled himself and exited the car into the bitter mid-day cold. He rounded the front of the car before opening Hawkeye's side. He could tell she was bothered by the instant freezing wind when a nearly undetectable grimace crossed her features. Roy decided on unbuckling her and fishing her keys out of her military pants' pocket.

Praying she wouldn't wake up, he lifted her bridal-style out of the car, just as he had done in the sewer system. He shut the door with the back of himself and started his short journey to her own living space.

Inside he was greeted by Hayate, waiting patiently for his master. The dog gave a small whimper while Mustang excused himself to a side room where Hawkeye's bed was. He set her down carefully and pulled a blanket out from underneath the wood structure. As he began unfolding it, Hayate entered and jumped onto the bed, laying next to her on the opposite side of her wound and laying his head on her face, however that was comfortable.

When she woke up only an hour later, she mental began freaking out, until loyal Hayate started to lick her face. She gave the animal a smile and got out of bed. The ground beneath her was cold, and she had to wonder who took off her heavy boots. Out in the kitchen laid a note with her keys.

"Hope you get to feeling better. And don't worry- I was the one to take you home. All your paper work is taken care of, so try the team's suggestion of staying home tomorrow. -Mustang"

With that, she crossed back into her room, knowing full well whatever pain-pill-scheme he had made was sure doing it's job right.


Author's Note: I think I may do one more chapter... depending on if I can get it right or just pulverize it.