A/N: I just passed the 200 page mark in terms of how many oneshots I've written. I've started doubling up on some of them; the ideas just keep coming! Back to school this week: best of luck to all my fellow students!

I do not own FMA.

Eleven - Liar

The door burst open to the tiny room, two men stepping inside. Roy's eyes searched briefly before settling on the form in the corner. "Hawkeye!"

She was sitting against the far wall, both hands over her mouth, eyes squeezed shut. Her left leg bounced in energetic agitation. Havoc eyed her warily. ". . . She okay, Chief?"

"I don't know . . . ." Crouching beside his Lieutenant, Roy put a cautious hand on her shoulder. "Hawkeye? Come on, look at me." After a second of hesitation, she obeyed, and he smiled. "There. Are you all right?"

She shook her head vehemently 'no.'

A curl of anger unwrapped itself in Roy's chest; first, some lowlifes had actually succeeded in kidnapping her, and now they had hurt her somehow and left her behind to be found. "What did they do?" he asked, voice quiet. He watched as Riza dropped her hands away from her mouth; she was biting her lower lip, hard enough to turn the skin white. She worked her way out of her jacket, then held her left arm out to him, pointing to a tiny bruise on the inside of her elbow, directly over the vein.

". . . . An injection?" She nodded. "Of what? Poison?"

Another shake of her head, and Riza pointed to her mouth. Roy frowned in bewilderment. What was she trying to tell him? Rolling her eyes once in exasperation, Riza reached down beside the wall, fumbling until she came up with a tiny glass vial that she thrust into his hand.

His heart sank as he read the label.

Havoc leaned down to look, eyes widening as they took in the words. "Is that . . . what I think it is?"

"Truth serum," Roy said darkly, fingers curling tightly around the little vessel. His gaze shot toward Riza. "What did you tell them?" Her eyes watched him briefly, then flicked to Havoc; he was already backing away.

"I'll . . . wait outside. Guard the door," he muttered. Roy didn't blame him; seeing Riza act like this had him unsettled as well.

As soon as the door was closed, the words came pouring out. "Roy, I swear, I didn't tell them anything. Nothing. I just repeated my serial number, over and over and over." She leaned forward, elbows braced on her knees, the heels of her palms pressed against her forehead. "There's so many thoughts running through my head right now, I can barely even see straight. It's like my brain is on fire and the only way to put it out is to talk." Her voice caught, and he saw her teeth grit as she tried to keep control. "This is all my fault, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry—"

"Hey, take it easy." Pulling her close, he let her bury her face in his shoulder, wrapping both arms around her. "None of this can be blamed on you; you kept your mouth shut, right? So then it's okay. They didn't find anything out."

"The danger's still there," she muttered, voice rising in volume as she talked, still going a mile a minute. "I've got who knows how many little secrets hidden away, not just my own, but military secrets, your secrets, and to think that anyone can access them just by giving me a shot that makes me babble like an idiot —" Her hands gripped the front of his jacket. "Make it stop, Roy, just make. It. Stop!"

Grumman had mentioned something about truth serum once, how to subvert the effects, what was it . . . . Abruptly, it clicked. Putting both hands on Riza's shoulders, he pushed her back just far enough so that he could see her face. "I'm going to ask you a series of questions; on each and every one, I want you to lie. It will trick your system into thinking the drug has worn off. Do you understand? Just keep lying." She nodded. "Okay. What colour is the sky?"

She stared at him. ". . . What?"

"Just answer it. As a lie."

". . . . Red," Riza said at last. "It's red."

"Okay. What's twenty-four plus twenty-four?"

"Fifty."

On it continued, for the next ten minutes or so. Roy watched as, with every little lie, Riza began to relax. Her hands dropped from the front of his jacket, forehead leaning against his shoulder. He paused, looking down at the top of her head. "How do you feel now?"

Her half-amused smile was evident in her voice. "Worse than ever," she lied. She lifted her head, then shifted to stand, her business-like demeanour back in place. "All fibbing aside, we should go. I assume you called for backup from the military police?"

Roy nodded once. "They should be here soon." Picking up her jacket from the floor, he draped it around her shoulders. "When they question you, be sure to make it clear you didn't share anything you shouldn't have. And no lying to them," he added with a smirk.

"Of course not," Riza answered, slipping her arms into the jacket's sleeves. "I rarely ever truly lie; I simply don't share the entire truth. Case in point: when the MPs ask me about this little encounter, I'll be leaving out the part where we were in a position that could be viewed as fraternization."

"Just another secret." He regarded her guiltily for a moment. "I'm sorry about all this; if I had been paying closer attention, they wouldn't have gotten to you in the first place."

Her hand touched his arm. "It's all right. There's no permanent damage done. As you said: I kept my mouth shut, they didn't find out anything. Everything is fine."

Smiling ruefully, Roy shook his head. "Throwing my own words back at me. Clever." He sobered, dark eyes watching her carefully. "I guess . . . I just wanted to make sure you don't hate me for letting them get to you in the first place."

Mild surprise flitted briefly across her face. "Of course not. For getting here as quickly as you did, for helping me . . . ." Riza's mouth curved in a private smile. "It's quite the opposite of 'hate.'"

Watching her eyes as he was, Roy could tell she wasn't lying.