Riza Hawkeye had made up her mind that she would go and see him that night.

Maes Hughes' funeral was last Friday, and the Colonel hadn't attended work since then. Four days had passed. Hawkeye didn't grudge him those days off. She was just worried about him. Every day since then, she hoped the Colonel would come into the office in the morning; he didn't.

How odd, she was acting as if Mustang had died, not his best friend.

She stood in front of Mustang's front door and knocked once; no answer. A second time she added her voice, letting him know that this wasn't just anyone behind the door; it was his Lieutenant, his right-hand woman. He knew her better than anyone did.

He opened to her, and she almost wished she hadn't come. Riza Hawkeye cared about him, and it hurt to see him standing there so... empty. Nevertheless, she saluted before entering her superior's house.

They sat on the couch, both trying to find words. He looked at her.

"I'm fine, Hawkeye," as if he knew what she were here for, but she didn't believe him.

"I was wondering why you hadn't phoned the office, to say how you were," she replied, "Havoc and Breda suggested I stop by." Lies. They hadn't said a word to her about visiting Mustang, and he knew that.

Mustang almost smirked, "I see." She chose to ignore that well-knowing smile. This was serious.

The woman looked to the small coffee table, frustrated. One, two empty liquor bottles caught her sight, and a drained wine bottle sat on its side in front of them. She saw no signs that he had eaten recently, on looking at him and the table.

If she weren't Lieutenant Hawkeye, she'd have cried right there in front of him. She'd have begged him to stop destroying himself like this. Riza Hawkeye appreciated anguish - she had seen war after all - but there are lines between sorrow and self-destruction, and he seemed to have crossed many of them over.

"Is there anything I can do for you while I am here, Colonel?" She wanted him to ask for help.

"No, Hawkeye, I'm just fine."

She should have known better. Men are stubborn.

No, she couldn't just step back and watch him do this; she felt the sting of tears threatening.

"Colonel, I understand your grief, but you can't keep doing this to yourself," She spoke resolutely, and he seemed to listen, "not only that, sir, you have a job to do."

The Colonel did have an important job, but he did also just lose his best friend.

Standing, she grabbed two crystal glasses from the table that had been used for liquor and took them into the kitchen. She left Roy in the lounge. Turning the sink tap on was almost like a cover, the loud hiss of water to camouflage the sobs she could no longer hold back. Tears were rolling and she cursed herself for acting this way.

Rinsing the glasses of their liquor was an easy task, fighting back these tears was not.

Being discreet as possible (because she knew the man in the other room would tell her to leave them alone) she moved on to clean the rest of the dishes in the sink. God knows how long they'd been there. Riza managed to control her weeping after a short time.

Clearly, he could hear the tap running and the sound of Hawkeye's muffled cries.

Roy Mustang had made up his mind that he'd put an end to living like this, for her.

End

AN: The situation is not an outlandish one, but it was begging to be written. I tried to make it short, snappy and a little dark.

Thank you for reading. :) Reviews are much appreciated.