A/N: Coming to you this week from Walt Disney World, the place where dreams come true! The miracle of Wi-fi, that I can be on vacation and still be able to update. Speaking of that, enjoy! This one's just chock full of Hayate love.

I do not own FMA.

Thirty-six - Dog

Stepping through the door to her apartment, Riza listened for the padding of four little paws coming her direction. Black Hayate faithfully met her every day when she returned from work, tail wagging and brown eyes bright with happiness. He would wait until she'd removed her boots and then play around her feet, hoping to be picked up and cuddled.

But today, no happy little yap greeted her, and no claws clicked across the hardwood floor to welcome her home. Riza looked up from unlacing her boots, scanning the apartment for signs of her pet. ". . . Hayate?"

Footwear removed and still no dog in sight, she stood and made her way toward the bathroom. Her little Shiba Inu was known to curl up in the bathtub for naps; perhaps he was particularly deep in sleep and hadn't heard her thus far. She kept her footsteps intentionally quiet as she approached the door, then leaned inside. No ball of dark fur was sleeping in the tub.

"Hayate?"

They were crouched by the open door, studying the lock. Riza reached out and touched one fingertip to the faceplate. "There – those scratches. Those were made by whatever they used to break in."

Shaking his head slowly, Roy stood. "What I don't understand is why they would take Hayate. Is he supposed to be some sort of hostage? And what would they need one for?"

Getting to her feet, Riza folded her hands together in front. "Control," she said darkly. "They wouldn't think of using him as a hostage unless they know what he means to me. And if they're trying to control me, there's only two things I would be useful for. Either my aim . . . ."

"Or getting information on the military or me," Roy finished grimly. "I hate to admit it, but that makes a lot of sense. You're closer than any of the rest of the men. They might not be privy to the sort of information Hayate's kidnappers want."

"Supposing that he was taken for the purpose of being a hostage," Riza said. "We could be blowing this out of proportion."

"It doesn't change the fact that someone broke into your apartment and took your dog!" Roy said, pointing to the lock. "Can you imagine what would have happened if you'd been here?!

"Riza, dear!" A new voice sounded from the hallway, along with quiet, shuffling footsteps. An elderly woman appeared outside the door, peering at the two of them through thick glasses. "Oh, dear me. I'm sorry, am I interrupting?"

"Of course not." Riza's transition from focussed and worried to calm and reassuring was quick and seamless. She stepped forward, gesturing to Roy with one hand."Mrs. Westheimer, this is my commanding officer, Colonel Roy Mustang. Sir, this is my neighbour, Edna Westheimer."

"Oh my . . . a Colonel!" Mrs. Westheimer beamed, shaking Roy's hand with both of hers. "And at your young age, too . . . . What an accomplished young man." She shook a finger at him. "You know, you work this poor girl awfully hard; she's always coming home late, never has time for a social life! You're the first man I've seen in this apartment since she moved in!"

Roy blinked, taken aback at the woman's feistiness. One didn't really expect it from someone in her seventies. "I . . . wasn't aware of that."

"Mrs. Westheimer, did you need to speak to me about something?" Riza jumped in, forestalling further commentary from her neighbour.

"Oh, yes. Do forgive me, my memory's not as good as it used to be." Digging in a pocket of her dress, the woman produced an envelope sealed with blue wax. "A pair of young gentlemen gave this to me today, and asked me to deliver it to you. They said it was a bill for services."

Frowning, turning the envelope over in her hands, Riza scanned the writing on the front. "'Keen for Canines Dogwalkers . . . .'" Her eyes shifted to Roy; his narrowed.

"Oh, that's a wonderful idea!" Mrs. Westheimer exclaimed, clapping her hands together, oblivious to the look the two had just exchanged. "It'll do your little Hayate good to get out more." She turned to Roy. "Riza has the sweetest little Shiba Inu; any time she brings him back from a walk, he scratches at my door to get a biscuit. Friendliest thing you ever saw . . . ."

Once again, Riza broke in on the woman's chattering. "Mrs. Westheimer, when the men dropped this envelope off, did they have Hayate with them?"

"Yes, I believe they'd just picked him up. Was it the first day they'd come by? Poor thing seemed nervous about going with them; he tried to run into my apartment, but he already had his leash on."

It was Roy's turn to cut in. "If you don't mind, ma'am, Lieutenant Hawkeye and I have some business we need to discuss."

"Oh, of course! I'll leave you to it then." Patting Riza on the arm, Mrs. Westheimer turned to go back to her own apartment. "Don't work too hard, now!"

The instant the door closed behind her, Riza was crossing to the kitchen table, working at breaking the wax seal on the envelope. Roy followed, hands in his pockets. "So I take it you didn't hire dogwalkers to take care of Hayate when you're at work, huh?"

She already had a piece of paper out from inside the envelope, brown eyes intent on the words scrawled across it. "'To get him back, meet us at the Gainsborough Bar on Twelfth Street at ten p.m. tonight. Come alone.'" Turning to look at him, she set the paper on the table. "Twelfth Street . . . . That's not exactly the better part of town."

"Exactly why you're not going by yourself, no matter what the ransom letter says," Roy stated firmly. He held up a finger as she opened her mouth to protest. "Forget it. If we're right about what these men want, then there's no way I'm letting you march right into a trap. I'm going with you. We'll just make it . . . inconspicuous."

The bar was dim as Riza entered, and only half-full of patrons. She took a moment to study her surroundings before moving toward an empty table at the side, in full view of the rest of the room. Sitting down, she folded her hands on the worn tabletop and settled in to wait.

Two minutes later, a man appeared beside her, musclebound arms folded boldly across his chest. "You're Riza Hawkeye?"

She looked up, expression carefully blank. "Yes."

"Good. Come with me." He started for the back of the bar, leaving her to follow and evaluate just how much of a threat he was. He was strong, obviously, and towered over her by at least a foot and a half. Tattoos covered his arms, some disappearing under the gray, short-sleeved shirt he wore. Other clothing was limited to dark, nondescript pants held up with suspenders, and heavy boots. Obviously the muscle behind this little set-up.

Before she passed through the door to the rear alley, she glanced over her shoulder, to a window at the front of the bar. Outside, peering around the edge of the glass was one dark eye and several strands of messy black hair. Roy returned her nod, then vanished. She stepped out into the night once again.

Two more men were waiting for her. One was close to her height, light brown hair pulled back into a loose ponytail. He wore a smirk that was just as smarmy as his high-end suit and over-shined shoes. Riza pegged him as the financier and ringleader of the trio. The lanky, rat-faced man standing behind him was dressed in the same common clothing as the muscleman, also wearing a gray jacket. In his arms was a muzzled Black Hayate, little tail wagging furiously at the sight of his mistress.

"So glad you decided to join us, Miss Hawkeye," the smarmy man drawled. "It's nice to finally meet you."

"I wish I could say the same," she countered. "What is this all about?"

The smirked widened as the man spread his hands. "Please, Miss Hawkeye . . . can't we carry on a conversation like civilized people and not some heartless lowlifes?"

She folded her arms, feeling the handguns in their side holsters press against her ribs; it was a reassuring feeling. "I think you confirmed yourself as a heartless lowlife when you broke into an apartment after one little dog."

Muscleman's teeth bared at her; he growled deep in his chest at the insult to his boss. Smarmy waved a hand at him, a gesture to settle down. His smirk remained in place, though his eyes grew cold. "A necessary evil, I'm afraid. How else were we to ensure you'd come to meet with us? We have a rather important business proposition to discuss with you."

"Let me make sure Hayate is all right," she said firmly. "Then, if he is, we'll talk business."

At a nod from Smarmy, Ratface set the pup on the ground and attached a long leash to the brown leather collar. Riza crouched as Hayate scampered toward her as fast as his four little legs could carry him. His entire body wiggled as his tail wagged harder than ever, happy little whimpers escaping past the muzzle. Taking his chin in one hand, Riza turned his head first one way, then the other, studying the contraption.

". . . . Why is he muzzled?"

Smarmy shrugged fluidly. "I couldn't take the chance that he would injure one of my men. Your boy there has some very sharp teeth on him."

"I see . . . ." Running her hand comfortingly along his back, Riza paused, eyes narrowing at a suspicious smudge on the white fur at his sides. Her fingers probed through the fur until they touched skin; Hayate flinched, his tail pausing in its continuous sweeping. He whined and twisted his head to see what she was doing.

She stood up, her hands at her sides. "You kicked him."

Ratface made a 'tsch' noise. "Stupid mutt tried to bite my leg off. It was self-defense." He tugged on the leash, trying to recall the little dog.

Riza's foot stomped down on the cord; furious brown eyes turned on Ratface. "You kicked . . . my dog . . . ." she repeated, as though speaking to someone who was rather slow in the head. "Didn't your mother ever teach you that's not nice?"

"I think you'll find you have a lot more to worry about once I present my business proposal," Smarmy broke in, his voice suddenly stern. "It's still three against one, girl. Hear me out, and I might just let you leave unharmed." He waited until her gaze swung back to him. "As the personal adjutant to Colonel Roy Mustang, you are very close to vital information our employers want. Want very badly." He reached into a pocket and withdrew a gleaming pistol, levelling it at Hayate's head. "You can either help us get that information, or watch first your dog, then your friends and colleagues, die. One. By. One."

Her gaze blanked, her face becoming an unreadable mask. "Go to Hell."

There was a faint snap from further down the alley, and a wall of flame shot up between Lieutenant and dog, and the three thugs. Riza immediately dropped to one knee, one hand slipping under her coat, pulling out the left-side gun and holding it ready to fire. The flames dissipated, and her targets appeared. Two shots for Muscleman, and one each for Smarmy and Ratface. She made sure to only hit them in either the leg or the shoulder; there was no need for death tonight, only justice.

The smoke cleared, and footsteps moved briskly up the alley toward her as she undid the muzzle from Black Hayate's face. He pawed at his nose, scratching some itch that had been bothering him for who knew how long. Dropping the wire contraption to the ground, Riza stood and crushed it with her foot just as Roy stopped at her side.

"Well done," he commented, watching the three men lying on the ground, groaning in pain.

"Thank you, sir." Together, they moved to where Smarmy was lying on his face, clutching his shoulder. Using the toe of her boot, Riza rolled him onto his back. His eyes opened, focussing first on her, and then on the man that loomed over him with a dangerous expression.

"I'm Colonel Roy Mustang. What's this I hear about you kidnapping my Lieutenant's dog?"