Disclaimer: Only written for my enjoyment, and hopefully the enjoyment of others to read. Based on FMAB. Please enjoy!

It was private. It was wrong. But she couldn't help but stare.

Riza Hawkeye stood in the Colonel's bedroom doorway, amazed and ashamed at what her eyes were gazing upon. After all the fighting, the guilt, the anguish; she was seeing something that she shouldn't see.

"Bring me my uniform, Lieutenant." Mustang snapped coldly.

Riza stared down at him, not believing what he was asking her to do. It hadn't been that long after the battle with Lust, and he thought he was ready to leave the hospital?

Brown eyes blinked rapidly at his cold request. Riza's mouth gaped open as she peered down at her superior officer, holding his side in pain, "But sir, your wounds-"

"Now." He stated quietly, his eyes closing to slits as he narrowed them at her.

"Yes, sir. But I don't know if the one you came in is wearable."

Mustang sighed in defeat, hanging his head, "Right… Kinda singed, I bet."

She nodded at the back of his head, knowing that he couldn't see her. Finally, he groaned loudly and rubbed his face tiredly, "Fine. I'll just go home so that I can change. Bring the car around, Lieutenant."

"Yes, sir." She said quietly, quickly gathering her things and making her way to the car out back.

On her way out the door, she couldn't help but listen to the nagging voice in the back of her head. Should he really be leaving so soon? He was obviously still in a tremendous amount of pain. And why was he in such a hurry to change and scurry off to their next exciting battle? Couldn't they have one little teeny tiny moment of peace?

But she knew that the answer to the last question was a resounding 'No'. Ever since they had joined the military, they had known no peace. No comfort, no quiet night of sleep… They had been exhausted for almost six years. And there was no end in sight. She snapped the door of the vehicle open and slammed it shut with a resounding blast. Riza lay her head against the steering wheel, shoving off the wave of exhaustion and self-pitying that was left for the weaker of their forces. She had to stay strong.

For him, she had to.

"I'll only be a moment, Lieutenant." Roy huffed as he set down the keys to his apartment, "Wait here."

She nodded at his back, watching him worriedly as he sauntered to his bedroom. Her caramel eyes had watched him in concern as he climbed the steps to his door, a thin sheen of sweat forming across his brow. She stood patiently as she could hear the soft sounds of cotton gliding across skin, and a sharp intake of breath. Riza listened intently for the sound of the shirt to be replaced, but instead heard a soft 'plop'. Waiting for a moment longer, her eyes fell longingly to his bedroom door, waiting for him to grace her with his presence.

But all that met her was silence. The soft, deep breathing she could hear from across the room, but it bothered her for some reason.

"Sir?" she asked apprehensively.

No answer. Hawkeye's heart began to bang against her chest. Was he in trouble? Had he gotten sick, or passed out?

"Sir?" She asked a little more quietly.

Riza inched ever closer to his bedroom door, trying to still the noisy clacking of her boots. She unbuckled the holster at her side, her sweaty palm resting on top of her firearm. She gasped as her earth-toned eyes passed over the doorway and peered into his bedroom.

It was private. It was wrong. But she couldn't help but stare.

Riza Hawkeye stood in the Colonel's bedroom doorway, amazed and ashamed at what her eyes were gazing upon. After all the fighting, the guilt, the anguish; she was seeing something that she shouldn't see. She quietly buckled the holster of her gun back into place and leaned against the scratchy wooden doorframe.

Mustang lay across the middle of his bed, his dark blue covers billowing around his broken body like a cloud caressing a raindrop. His legs were still draped in the hospital pants that he had left in, but his chest and torso were uncovered and bare. He was curled up onto his side, his injured abdomen facing up towards the ceiling. The soft rise and fall of his body as he napped captured her. He had one arm curled under his head, the other stretched out, his long, elegant fingers twitching in his sleep. His hair was splashed against his face like a droplet of black paint, lying haphazardly across his brow.

She stepped quietly into the room, trying to avoid the creaking and groaning of the aging floor. She stared at his tired and broken body, pushing the tears from her eyes. He had been injured and she wasn't there to protect him. That bothered her. But this nap that was meaningless in the giant span of the world was what got her the most. They were all so tired. Tired of being toyed with, played against, and anything else that their enemies could spew against them. And here he was, pushing to be released from the hospital to 'get back at it', and he was so, so exhausted.

Amber eyes fell upon the ugly scar on his side, rising and falling with his deep breathing. Without realizing it, she had reached a hand up and was rubbing the all too familiar scar on her shoulder. What a pair…

Riza shook her head at the disgusting thought, walking dutifully to the Colonel's closet. She pulled out a fresh uniform, a soft cotton white shirt and his dark black jacket. Feeling guilty about her next task, she hung the items on the door of the closet and edged closer to the bed.

She knelt down in front of his slumbering face, memorizing the quiet calm across his brow.

"Sir?" she asking quietly, not wanting to break the spell.

But Roy's figure continued it's restful slumber.

"Colonel," she said a little louder, "I'm sorry, sir, but you need to wake up."

Seeing no response, Riza slowly reached a hand closer to her superior's face. She tenderly brushed a few raven strands of hair from his eyes, resting her hand on the side of his face. She trailed her thumb across his cheek, hoping to carefully rouse him from his sleep, "Colonel Mustang?"

Finally, Roy breathed in deeply, suppressing a grimace from the angry wound on his side. His dark eyes slowly opened and focused on the figure crouched in front of him.

"I'm sorry to wake you, sir." She whispered apologetically.

A silence fell over them as he blinked lazily. It was almost as if he was having trouble understanding what she was saying. Finally, his voice, thick with sleep, cut through the quiet.

"I'm so tired."

"I know, Colonel." Riza confirmed as she stroked the top of his head. There was something so innocent in his confession that it broke her heart. She merely allowed for her fingers to glide through his soft hair, hoping to comfort him in some small way.

"I haven't been this exhausted since I trained with your father." He mumbled, burying his face in the crook of his elbow.

"Hmm… I may have to argue with you on that one." She said removing her hand, a thin smile gracing her lips.

He groaned into the bed sheets, "Yeah, okay… Maybe later."

After a few moments, Mustang finally sighed loudly and pushed himself upright, his long legs dangling over the edge of the bed. Hawkeye stood and walked over to the closet, gathering the clothes that she had set out earlier.

"I'm sorry, Riza."

Her hand stopped momentarily, and then continued its task.

"For what, sir?" she asked quietly as she pulled down his shirt.

Riza cast her golden eyes over to him when he didn't answer right away. It was almost as if he's voiced a thought without realizing it. His mouth opened a few times, but snapped back shut, his eyes twisting in confusion. Finally, he rubbed his face and chuckled.

"I don't know," he admitted with a shrug, "Because I know that you have to be tired, too. Sorry for yelling at you in the hospital. Sorry for dragging you into this mess."

She closed her eyes as she walked over to his side, laying out his garments next to him, "Thank you, sir, but an apology is not needed. I came willingly."

"I'm sorry for burning you."

Riza's eyes widened as she quickly snapped her head to look at him. His dark eyes were watching her carefully, waiting for her façade to crack. But, instead of holding off on his next thought, he barreled through it like a train out of control.

"Did it hurt this bad for you?"

"Did what hurt as bad, sir?" she asked quietly.

"Don't play games," he begged as he gingerly touched his burned abdomen, "When I burned your back."

She straightened herself with a snap, avoiding making eye contact. Afraid of what would happen next, or what pathway would be opened by this conversation, "We don't need to talk about it," She merely announced.

Mustang stared at her for a moment, standing completely still. That was all the answer that he needed.

"I guess that's what I'm the most sorry about." He whispered, covering his eyes.

Riza could've said a million different answers in response. A wave of different emotions coursed through her body, but she didn't show any on her face. She wanted to comfort him, slap him, scold him, cry, laugh, love…. But she merely stood. That would all come in due time.

"You need to get ready, sir. You had a reason for leaving the hospital so quickly, so we need to get to it."

Mustang lowered his hands, dangling them between his knees. He looked up at her, their eyes locking for an instant. And in that instant, everything that needed to be said in that moment was said.

"Yes, Lieutenant."

Riza unfolded the soft cotton shirt on top of his uniform as he reached over to grab it. Their fingertips brushed against each other, passing comfort silently.

"The cotton will feel better against your burn, sir. " she whispered, keeping her eyes averted.

He smiled as he grabbed the soft shirt, stretching it over his head, "Thank you for your care."

"I'll be right by the door, sir." She said as she walked over to the doorway.

"I would expect nothing else, Riza."

My first FMAB fic! I hope that you enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it. Not sure if I should continue. Please let me know if I should!

~Aurora