Roy found the top floor largely untouched. Men and women were finding their way to the stairwells, evacuating with little difficulty save for the lack of an elevator. Some cradled injured limbs, others had cuts from shattered glass. A few were only able to escape by leaning on their fellow soldiers. He had come up the main stairwell, so he knew it was clear and free of debris. He directed the fleeing masses to that route, trying to get them all out before the aftershocks came, his strong voice never betraying any fear or hesitation. Even those he considered his political rivals heeded his commands.

When he was in charge, people had a way of trusting him, obeying him. Except for Hawkeye. She was never one to follow orders blindly, even when those orders came from him. Always the stubborn one, she kept him on the straight and narrow path, promising to shoot him if he strayed too far. He questioned whether he made the right decision, letting her go off alone. A dog was hardly adequate backup. It wasn't that he doubted her abilities. She was better equipped to handle the situation than anyone he knew. He told himself that he would reconnect with her after the hour was up, that he would see her and her dog coming up the stairwell any moment. But so far he was alone.

As she approached the western building, Hawkeye realized that Roy may have been right. The inside was somehow worse than the exterior let on. The smoky corridors were hauntingly silent, save for the constant beeping of a smoke alarm. Unsurprisingly, the aged sprinkler system had failed to turn on in response to the fire. The flames were kept at bay by the water on the ground from broken pipes. She unrolled her turtleneck, pulling the fabric up over her mouth and nose to help filter out the smoke and dust. Nothing helped her eyes though, stinging as her vision blurred from tears, trying to wash away the irritating particles in the air. Her keen eyes were seen by some as a thing of legend, but they would be of little help here. A few people ran for the exit behind her, shaken, but well enough to run away from the scene. But many more weren't running, trapped beneath a section of roof that had caved in. She could see at least three, three that she was sure couldn't have survived their injuries.

She unclipped Hayate's leash, "If anything happens, go find the colonel." she ordered, hoping that the dog would not only understand, but have the willpower to leave his master.

The dog looked up at her worriedly, keeping close to her side.

Hawkeye called out, trying to see if there were any signs of life. If there were, no one was strong enough to respond to her. She moved methodically down the corridor, checking each room. Hearing movement from inside a store room, she tried the doorknob. It wouldn't budge. She gave it a strong kick, but the sturdy wood held. She pounded on the door, "Can anyone hear me? Do you need help?"

There was no answer.

Frustrated, she took out a pocket knife and carefully began to work the screws out of the door handle, taking care not to strip the heads of the screws. Finally the door knob fell out in her hand and she was able to force the door open. Inside, tall bookshelves had fallen over like a stack of dominos. The floor was littered with decades of files. She found an arm, one with a pulse. As she dug through the pile, she unearthed a young man, pinned beneath the shelf at the waist. He couldn't have been much older than she was. By his uniform she could tell that he was a letter carrier, he'd just happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time.

"Please. Let me die," he begged, "It's too late for me." His breaths were ragged and uneven. His chest rose and fell, lopsided as if one side could not keep up with the other.

"Hold on," she pleaded, trying to move the shelf off the man. Even tilted at its corner, the weight was too much for one person to lift. His injuries were severe. Even if he got out of the building, he would never walk again. His pulse was weak and thready, his eyes could barely stay open and focused on her.

"Please, I just want the pain to stop." Hayate laid down next to the man, whining softly in an attempt to comfort him in his last moments.

"Are...are you sure that is what you want?" she asked hesitantly.

"I'm begging you," he coughed, spitting up blood. His hand gripped hers tightly, desperately.

Hawkeye drew her sidearm and placed it against the man's head. He gave her a nod of approval and closed his eyes. He was gone in an instant. It wasn't the first time she'd ended a life out of mercy but it never got any easier.

Leaning against one of the fallen bookshelves, she shut her eyes tightly. Hayate left his post beside the fallen man and curled up at his master's side instead. The warmth against her body was more comfort than her pet could understand. She clicked on the safety and tucked her weapon back away, silently praying that she would not be needing it again. She opened the watch and checked the time, 1341. There was still time, and perhaps the next person could still be saved. Next to the watch face on the inside of the intricate silver casing was a slip of paper with a date written in Roy's messy handwriting. All State Alchemists had silver pocketwatches to symbolize their status. While identical in design, many were personalized by their owner. She knew that inside Edward Elric's watch was the date he and his brother left home, October 3rd of 1910 with a reminder to never forget. As far as she knew, Roy had nothing in his. He brought it home to show her after he received his certification, showing her that the Flame Alchemy he learned from her would be put to use for the people. Back then, the watch was empty. The paper was dated December 25th, 1912. Christmas Day three years earlier. She squinted, seeing something from the other side of the paper. Carefully, she flipped it over. It wasn't a slip of paper, it was a photograph. She was glad that no one could see the stupid grin on her face. Now she remembered. They'd gone to the Armstrong Estate for a ball that night and Roy had insisted on escorting her. In the photo, Roy wore a tailored grey suit, his hair slicked back, with his hand on his partner's waist. She was there dancing with him in a silky red dress that swept against her ankles as she moved. It was one of the few times she let her hair down, finally growing it out after leaving it short most of her life.

She glanced over at the other side of the watch. 1345. She had to move on. Two more floors to go.

Roy grew restless. Without his watch he had no way of knowing how much time had passed. Clocks in corridors of the building had fallen from the walls, and many broke upon hitting the floor. But he had faith in his lieutenant. She had never been late before and he had no reason to doubt her ability to return to him safely. He put on his gloves, in case he needed to remove any obstacles in his way. So far, everyone he'd found had been able to walk away with minor injuries. A voice from behind got his attention.

"Hey chief!" Havoc had returned. "South is clear. Somehow, no casualties. The damage looks worse from the outside. Breda cleared the northern side, state Alchemists will probably have that one patched up first and we'll operate out of that one until this mess gets fixed."

Roy nodded, "Thank you. The top floor is clear, I'm working my way down."

Havoc watched his boss as they moved from room to room, finding most of them thankfully empty. Roy was being very objective, methodical. It was his way of coping with the stress, by focusing on the duty at hand. Anything to distract himself from the possibility of something happening to someone he held dear. Sirens wailed in the distance, slowly growing louder. More help was on its way.

"She's alright, boss." Havoc placed a hand on Roy shoulder, hoping it sounded like more just than an empty platitude. He was worried about her too. But he was also less worried about her than he would be about almost any person on the planet. Hawkeye was a woman who could hold her own.

"You can't know that." he countered, shrugging away the attempted comfort.

"No, but you can." he told him, "Kind of like how Hayate knew there was going to be an earthquake. You two are crazy synchronized. Your gut would tell you if something ver happened to her. You would know." If something had happened to that woman, Roy would be devastated. Hopefully having seen what the Elrics had sacrificed in their attempt, he would never think of trying the taboo. Roy trusted her, he believed she would be alright. Otherwise he would have never let her go alone. He trusted her with his back, and she trusted him with hers.

An aftershock shook the building, less violently than before. With nothing to take shelter under, the men crouched in a doorway, covering their heads. The shaking built up a crescendo and then faded away to nothing again. As the shockwaves dissipated, they wondered if the rest of their team was alright.