#11: An Instant's Respite
by Maaya
Hawkeye rouses on the stroke at five, not feeling at all rested (no one even resembling normal should feel awake at that hour) but able to function all the same. The first thing she's aware of is the patter of water against the windowpane.
She puts some water on the stove to boil, gives Black Hayate a mix of soured milk and dog food and then finally steps into the shower cabin. Hot water makes her thoughts enter an almost-waking-up state and the bitter smell of herb-shampoo works like smelling-salts to clear her mind further. It makes her realize: breakfast might not be such a bad idea, after all.
Dressed in a bathrobe, Hawkeye exits the bathroom with prouder posture and one can finally recognize her: first lieutenant Riza Hawkeye, prepared to serve her superior and help him reach the top.
After breakfast, that is.
She's halfway through the second page of the morning paper and has just started sipping at the tea when the phone rings.
It is a quarter to six, Tuesday morning. Hawkeye can't remember having asked someone to call her today and surely, no one would do it this early if it wasn't either requested or very important.
Important. Her throat is tight with worry, mind filled with horrible military-scenarios, as she answers.
It is a young girl speaking on the other end. Wrong number. Terribly sorry, miss.
Hawkeye doesn't sound strained when she accepts the apology.
She hangs up and finishes her breakfast.
end