She was tempted to go out onto her balcony, even in her pajamas, and shoot off her gun until the noise stopped. They'd all moved back to Central from the east in haste, and there had been few buildings near headquarters that allowed dogs. There was the couple with screaming twins in the flat above and the budding musicians who needed far more practice in the apartment below. Her neighbors on one side seemed to hate each other enough to spend most nights in shouting matches while the enlisted men on the other side liked to tinker with Automail in their spare time. Noisily. Lieutenant Hawkeye was far happier away from home.

The rumbling music had Black Hayate hiding underneath her bed in the other room, and she thought it best to spread out all her work on the living room floor. Paperwork wasn't Riza's favorite, but if she didn't work on it, the Colonel never would, and the others would do it wrong. Havoc had managed to misplace an important report the week before, and then Breda had dropped an entire stack of folders in a puddle the other day after hearing a dog bark in the distance. All the work she had to catch up on would keep her from sleeping for another several hours, but her neighbors would have kept her from resting either way.

She had all of the folders arranged by priority order, and when there was finally a lull in the music and the screaming, she settled for the papers that would need the Colonel's signature immediately in the morning. Most of these were due by noon, but knowing the Colonel's tendency to postpone work, Hawkeye would be running these all in at the last second. Riza snatched the folder from the floor quickly, trying and failing to shove her other thoughts from her mind.

Apparently, some young woman from the coffee shop two blocks from headquarters was the Colonel's date tonight. At least that was what Fuery had told Falman when they thought she wasn't listening. So long as he wasn't hungover and sleepy in the morning. Riza didn't want to resort to forging his name, although she'd had to do so before. He'd even praised her for her accuracy in mimicking his hand. Not that it was hard to sign 'Roy' and then an 'M' with an unintelligible squiggly line after it, she thought in amusement.

The coffee girl tonight. Last night it had been the flower shop girl and the night before was the redhead from the unmentionable club. She shook her head and opened the file folder to frown at form after form that she'd have to read over. Why did she care? Tomorrow would be another girl and the next night another. And so it had been for years, but since the death of Brigadier General Hughes, the Colonel had grown more distant. He was on dates every night now, drinking enough to make him irritable in the mornings. He was beginning to worry her.

She wanted to do more to help him, but the Colonel was never much for soul searching talks. Then again, neither was she. Riza scrutinized the papers and started scribbling in some details on the latest reports that had come in from the south. Train scheduling, contraband seizures, nothing interesting. But it helped the Colonel to complete them. She committed things to memory, her eyes scanning the papers shrewdly. Then in the morning, she'd give him a quick five minute overview of the stacks and stacks of paperwork – he'd know what was most important and wouldn't even need to read it before affixing his signature to them. If that was all she could do for him, then she would do it.

Half an hour went by, and she sighed. Only a folder and a half were completed. A quick glance at the clock revealed that midnight had already come and gone. She'd need something strong to get her through the rest. Setting the papers down neatly, she sauntered into her kitchen, desperate for some tea. There'd been little time for grocery shopping, and her cupboards were disappointingly devoid of anything that would give her much of a boost.

She grumbled under her breath and settled for some fruit juice. The noisy sound of the entry buzzer by the door nearly made her drop her glass. Who would be calling on her at this hour? It was probably someone playing a prank or a lady friend of the young men next door. She jabbed at the button angrily.

"Who is it?"

There was a pause and then a throat clearing and a few coughs. "Lieutenant?"

Riza's heart dropped, and she looked down at the sorry state of her pajamas. There were papers scattered all over the living room floor, and the dog had torn apart a newspaper in the hall. She'd been so consumed with work that she hadn't even noticed. She wouldn't need tea now – she was wide awake.

"Sir?" she responded, confused that he would be buzzing her apartment so late.

His voice was slurred, and he was speaking right next to the box so his voice came through louder than it had to. "You awake?" She heard him chuckle. "Course you're awake, you're talking to me..."

She rolled her eyes. If she knew what was good for her, she'd march down, kick him in the ass and send him home. But some part of her was pleased that he wasn't still out and about with the coffee girl, whoever she was. "Colonel, can I...help you with something?"

"Did I wake you?"

"No."

"Because...I'd be...I mean, I don't wanna wake you if you're sleeping..."

He was beyond drunk, she thought in irritation. "Sir, do you need me to walk you home? Call a car for you?"

More chuckling. "Saw a black...um, saw a black dog when I was walking. And I thought, Hawkeye has a dog like that...so here I am. Pretty clever, huh?"

For such an intelligent man, Roy Mustang was downright ridiculous when intoxicated. Hawkeye wanted to shoot the intercom box so he'd just talk to dead air until he was satisfied, but she didn't need him passing out in the street. It wouldn't look so good for a state alchemist to be found drunk in a gutter. She took a deep breath and pressed the button again. "I'm going to buzz you in. Can you make it up the stairs?"

"Do you..." She sighed at his hiccup. "Do you like talking to me like I'm five, Hawkeye?"

"Answer my question, sir."

He laughed one more time, pressing the buzzer over and over until she began to regret her decision to let him up. He buzzed it one more time and shouted into it. "See you soon!"

Riza looked over her apartment. Dishes in the sink, mail and bills on the table with far less organization than the paperwork on the floor. She hurried to the bedroom, shooing Black Hayate out. The dog settled himself under her dining room table while she grabbed a robe and slammed her bedroom door behind her. Her uniform was in fine shape, but her civilian clothes were in heaps everywhere. Not like the Colonel would go in there...

She shook the rather alarming thought of Colonel Roy Mustang in her bedroom from her mind, wondering when she'd become such a lovesick twit. Finally, there was a knock at the door, and she opened it to see the man himself in the doorway. It was always strange to see him out of uniform, and he was clad in a simple black jacket and slacks, a white dress shirt half untucked underneath. He could barely stand, but she merely held the door for him to stagger on in.

"Good evening, sir."

"Morning, Hawkeye," he corrected, wagging his finger at her. His eyes wandered the walls that were unfamiliar to him until he finally settled on a clock. "New day, 0100 hours."

She closed the door and moved past him to clear the floor of papers. "I was just catching up on some paperwork for tomorrow, sir."

"In your pajamas, Lieutenant?"

"Yes, sir."

He flopped down on the couch with little grace, his left foot landing on one of the folders she hadn't yet reclaimed. She frowned at it for half a second before taking leave to pick up his foot to snatch the folder back. He leaned his head back against the cushions, seemingly staring at some spot on her ceiling while she got everything in some order before depositing them on the table.

Not knowing what to do, she moved to busy herself in the kitchen. Though she was fresh out of tea, she did find some coffee hidden behind some cans of vegetables. "Coffee, sir?"

"No, I'm fine."

She smirked and started brewing a fresh pot for him anyhow. From the way he was talking and behaving, he'd need the whole damn thing. "It'll be ready in a few minutes."

Roy was now off the couch and laying on the carpet on his belly. He was whispering something, and when she peeked her head around the corner, she could see that he was talking to the dog. Was he this bad every night? Why hadn't she done anything to help him?

"Sir?"

"Just observing Black Hayate in his natural environment," he whispered to her as though they were sharing some secret. His voice was rather strained then. "I wish I had a dog, Hawkeye."

"Sir, maybe you should get off the floor."

He rolled over until he was on his back, staring up at her with a smile. "You don't like when I'm drunk."

"No, sir. You're giddy now, but in the morning you will be useless."

He smarted at that, but didn't bother to move. "Useless? Can't I write you up for saying something like that about a superior officer, Lieutenant?"

"Yes, sir, you could. But..." He watched her move back into the kitchen. She poured a generous amount of coffee into the largest mug she had. "I suppose I'd have to fill out the form and all the corresponding paperwork myself. And all you'd do is sign it."

She moved back into the living room with the coffee, setting the mug down on the table next to the sofa. He held out his hand, and she pulled him to his feet. Unsteady from drink, he held onto her shoulders to keep himself upright. She could feel the warmth of his hands through her cotton robe and pajama top – they were rarely this physically close. His eyes darted across her face quickly, and she tried to remember that he was drunk and not himself. She pulled away, letting him stumble his way to the couch.

He started to drink the coffee quickly despite telling her mere minutes earlier that he didn't want any. She remained standing, watching over him as he sat and sipped the warm drink. "Did you have a good evening, sir?" she inquired calmly, trying to make conversation while he slowly worked his way back to sobriety.

The Colonel looked up from the mug thoughtfully. "No."

"I'm sorry to hear that," she replied, trying to sound slightly sympathetic.

"Sick grandmother," he muttered under his breath.

"Colonel?"

Roy shook his head. "My...the young lady's grandmother was ill. She couldn't make it."

Riza was puzzled now. What the hell had he done in all this time aside from getting drunk? "Sir, were you drinking alone?"

He smiled. "Alone? Nah." Holding his hands up for her inspection, she could see grass stains on his palms. A quick glance to her robe where he'd held onto her moments earlier also betrayed small bits of green. "I went to say hello to Maes."

She moved to sit beside him on the couch, hoping her physical proximity would help him. How long had he sat beside the stone that marked his friend's grave? Was he lying to her with this grandmother story? Had he done this every night there'd been a "date" scheduled? Riza rarely knew what to say in these situations. Hughes' death had been so sudden, and she felt like she'd been walking on eggshells around her superior these past several weeks.

Sliding over slightly on the couch cushion, she watched his smile fade. It seemed that the coffee was finally starting to have its intended effect. She reached out her hand, her fingers grazing his briefly while she took the now empty mug from him. He met her eyes as she did so, and she looked away. "I'll get you another," she started, moving to get off the couch, but his reflexes were less impaired now.

His fingers closed around her wrist. "Riza."

She nearly dropped the mug at his casual use of her name. "Sir?"

He released her and leaned back against the sofa, closing his eyes. "Sometimes I pick up the phone to call him and have the number halfway dialed before I realize that he's not going to be on the end of the line. Is that strange?"

She set the mug down on the floor and leaned back until she was in a similar position beside him. He was rarely this talkative about personal matters, but perhaps this was his way of reaching out. Maybe he just needed to talk out his worries tonight. "I don't think it's so strange."

"I'd probably keep calling you too," he admitted.

She grinned. "You never call me, sir."

"That's right," he replied. "Because you're on me like a rash, aren't you?"

Hawkeye looked away in embarrassment. He was still a little tipsy and emotional from his visit to the cemetery. He probably didn't mean any harm by it. "Just doing my job, Colonel. Protecting you."

He was quiet for a few moments, and she decided to stay silent as well. The mirror on the wall across from the couch was a sorry sight. She could see herself in her dowdy pajamas and robe, deliberately turned away in shame while the Colonel relaxed. A rash, she thought sadly. She picked up the mug and moved quietly to the kitchen to refill it for him.

Her hand was on the handle of the coffee pot when he finally shuffled up alongside her. "That...didn't come out right."

She didn't look at him, instead pouring the coffee into the mug with a surprisingly steady hand. "I know." He took the warm mug from her fingers and set it down on the countertop and stood close. She turned, eyes meeting the collar of his jacket. She didn't dare look up. "You ought to drink that, sir."

He rested a hand on her shoulder, and she could feel his warm breath on her face. The Colonel still smelled of alcohol, but he'd had enough coffee by now to be more aware of his actions and their meaning. This was far more than an apology for his earlier words about her. Were she to lift her head a few inches, it would be easy to see it leading somewhere they ought not go. Much as she might wish for it, it was not the right time. Would there ever be a right time, she thought sadly.

Roy moved his other hand to her back, pulling her to him. She shut her eyes, keeping her arms stiffly at her sides while he embraced her. He needed this, she convinced herself. He'd come from the cemetery, he was still in mourning. She allowed him to hold her, to take what comfort she might offer, but she did not dare to return his affection. Riza finally released a breath against his shoulder, inhaling the scent of alcohol that had mingled with the crisp cotton of his jacket. He was just as quiet as she was, keeping his hand still on the small of her back.

Finally, he backed away, fingers dragging along the fabric of her robe as he broke the contact. She looked down at the tiled kitchen floor, hearing the coffee mug scrape across the counter. Riza listened to him drink the coffee, not wanting to move herself around him to exit the kitchen. Time passed with painful slowness. Should she have done more to comfort him...or would it have been inappropriate? It was her duty to support him, but if she'd done more, she might have betrayed the depth of her feelings. She could not afford that. Not now, perhaps not ever. He set the mug down a few minutes later. "Thank you for the coffee, Lieutenant."

She finally looked up, and he was already halfway to the door. Hurrying after him, she opened the door and waited. He no longer had the goofy drunken grin on his face, but rather the solemn but clever look she was more accustomed to. Whatever had happened in her kitchen, he wouldn't say a word about it.

"Good night, sir." Their eyes met, and she stood firm. "Do you need any help getting home?"

He shook his head, but she didn't miss the slight smile at the corners of his mouth. "I should be fine, thank you." He moved into the hallway, still with a bit of a stagger to his steps. "I expect all that paperwork on my desk in the morning."

"Yes, sir."

She watched him all the way to the stairs until he was out of sight. Closing the door, she shut her eyes and let her fingers drift behind her back to touch where his hand had been moments before. Shaking her head, she grabbed the file folders back from the table and got back to work.