I am slightly appalled to find that I have not been writing a story for this pairing, although I have written for many other of my favourites. Please, enjoy and do tell me if you don't. =)

I do not own, nor will I ever own, Fullmetal Alchemist.

It had not been a good day.

It had, as a matter of fact, been a very bad day.

A day so bad, it had made Colonel Roy Mustang swear in a manner, that had earned him a fair bit of respect from passer-by sailors. And a withering glare from Lieutenant Riza Hawkeye.

Who also happened to be the reason for his swearing. Hawkeye, that is.

Or, more precisely, the fifteen centimetres long and five millimetre high gap in her stomach, caused by a particularly stupid band of armed bandits.

Not that their level of intelligence had really mattered, as they still had a somewhat decent aim. As a trained and experienced soldier, Hawkeye technically had an advantage. Still, accidents could happen for even the best.

The hits themselves hadn't been bad. Even concurrently hadn't they done a whole lot of damage, just made for a painful flesh-wound that had smarted ever so annoyingly.

But the necessary strain she had put on the wound, standing and crouching had supplied that, had made it open fully. That had hurt.

It was also rather dangerous, which was the reason Mustang had been swearing, making his lieutenant fire her second to last bullet at him.

An hour later, Mustang was still thinking, and muttering, curses, the former in a constant buzz, the other a tad more sporadically.

"Would you please try to better your language as long as we're in the hospital, sir?"

"You could have gotten killed! Now you have to be on leave. What a pain!"

"I am very well aware of the risk I was in! I was very well aware of it, too."

Roy stopped pacing and quietly sunk into the bedside chair. "I know," he whispered, staring at a spot between his feet. "I know, Lieutenant. I'm sorry."

Hawkeye smiled slightly and reached for his hand, only to stop halfway. Should she? They would both appreciate the gesture…

They both needed the gesture, she decided.

She picked up his hand rubbing it carefully with her thumb. Thinking back, she hadn't made such a gentle gesture since Black Hayate was a puppy.

"It's not your fault," she whispered, admiring his strong, pale hands. Admiring… Probably the wrong word, as she knew them to be the hands of a killer.

She saw them for what they were and accepted them, loved them.

When she looked up, she saw the same look in Roy's eyes as she knew to be in her own.

How sweet of him.

Uhm… ^^; Heheh, this could have been better. -_-' It sucked! Especially the last part felt horribly awkward to write.

Oh well, please review and please tell me what you liked/disliked that I may better.