First, I would like to thank all of my reviewers! You guys really make my day and I love reading what you think of my story:) If you like this chapter, please review!

My responses

not so Angelic Antics – No, this story isn't really intended to be AU, any more than any fanfic is an AU ;) I guess I should have warned that some material in here might be a spoiler if you haven't seen the entire series. Well, everyone, consider this your warning. I don't think there will be much else, but I'm not sure and I don't want to keep adding warnings. Without further chatter from the author, what you've been waiting for!

Fire Fight- Breaking Point

"Master-Sergeant Farman," Roy called, spotting the man he was looking for in the busy corridor.

The NCO stopped walking and turned to face him. "Can I help you, sir?" he frowned.

Roy closed the distance between them before speaking. "We need to talk," he said simply.

"Is it urgent, sir?" Farman asked.

"It's about Lieutenant Hawkeye."

"Is she all right?" Farman asked quickly.

"She is now," Roy said. "The question is will she be?"

Farman stiffened. "I don't understand, sir," he said, but the tone of his voice made it very clear that he thought he did and didn't like it.

"Let's walk and talk," Roy said.

Outside, the earlier warmth of the day was starting to fade, though the sun had still not yet set. They walked to the perimeter of the base before Roy spoke. "Why does Lieutenant Hawkeye wear longsleeves in May?" Roy asked quietly.

"I don't understand, sir," Farman repeated.

"You've said this before," Roy said sternly, turning to face him. "Master Sergeant, I am trying to help, but I need to know things so I can help. Do you understand now?"

Farman looked relieved. "Thank you, sir. At first I thought you were- never mind..." then his frown returned. "But I can't tell you about the Lieutenant. I have to respect her wishes."

"Which are what?" Roy pressed.

Farman said nothing.

"Master Sergeant," Roy tried another tact. "You saw action before your transfer to Central?"

"Yes, sir," Farman said, looking slightly confused.

"If a comrade of yours were injured but asked you not to tell a medic, and I mean so seriously injured that they did not know what they were saying, what would you do?"

Silence for a long moment. "Point taken, sir," Farman said at last. "But... I don't know everything about her situation. Like what he's holding over her head."

"He's blackmailing her?"

Farman smiled grimly. "Do you think anyone would stay in that situation if they had a choice? But it's a long story."

"I have time."

An agreement was reached and the story would be a small price to pay for the simple dinner, sandwiches from a nearby deli instead of going to the mess for dinner.

"I started working in Quartermaster's and Supply after I was posted to Central," Farman began after he had eaten half of his sandwich. "I'm a candidate for the Warrant Officer program and scuttlebutt has it that Central is the place to be if you're serious about getting a promotion. Upon arrival, I was almost immediately forced to use two weeks of compassionate leave to look after my great-aunt in the West. Since I was going that way, it was suggested that I take care of some business for Central, nothing strenuous, just hand over some papers, smile and nod at their requests, that kind of thing" Farman sighed. "It seemed so easy, and it was, until I got back here and had to fill out an expenses form. I realized I'd lost the receipts, and instead of doing the smart thing and owning up, I..." Farman looked down and spoke more quietly. "I forged my receipts. I didn't go overboard, if anything, I underreported my expenses, but it was an Honour Code violation. If it came to light, I would never get into the Warrant Officer program." He picked up the other half of his sandwich, ate a few bites and put it down. "It was stupid," he sighed. "And somehow, Nialsen found out. He's strange that way, he can find out anything about anyone and once he knows what you're afraid of, he hangs it over your head for as long as you're with him. And no one stays with him long if they can help it. That officer that they had to institutionalize a few months back was a direct result of Nialsen. He was Lieutenant Hawkeye's predecessor."

Some day, I will be in a position to see that this does not happen, Roy thought, in the awkward silence that followed. "Master Sergeant, I'm going to give you a number I can be reached at, at any time," Roy said, scribbling down the red line number of his office, not the ordinary one, on a napkin. "Since someone's in all the time, they can get to me quickly," he explained, handing it to Farman. "Thank you for your help in this regard."

Farman nodded, acknowledging that he had heard what was said, but he still looked troubled. After a moment, he spoke. "Sir, I care about the lieutenant," he said. Hastily, he clarified, guessing Roy's thoughts. "Not like that, sir. She's like a younger sister to me, but unlike a younger sister, I can't tell her what to do, because she out-ranks me," he sighed. "This is all I can do, and if she doesn't ask for your help, then it's all for nothing. Sir, the whole receipt mess will never happen again, but I'll face the consequences," he swallowed. "Whatever they are."

"Don't worry about that, Farman," Roy said. "Just keep me informed. Anything we can use against Nialsen, we will."

"Sir…" Farman began, then seemed to think better of what he was going to say.

"Out with it, man," Roy said.

"Why are you doing this?" Farman asked, a little of the old suspicion back, but not much. "Is it because the lieutenant-"

"It's part of my job as an officer," Roy said. "I don't care who he's trying to hurt, the lieutenant, you, Private Fury, it isn't allowed," he said.

"You mean that," Farman said, sounding almost slightly surprised.

"I mean it," Roy repeated, put his jacket back on and got ready to leave.

"I would be proud to serve an officer like you," Farman said, so quietly that Roy almost missed it.

Line break here

Riza stared critically at her second target. These new angles are playing merry hell with my aim, she thought angrily. If I keep practicing, I'll get them eventually, but...her aching shoulder throbbed dully. I'm not used to firing one handed, I can't any more today. She sighed. Usually she tried for at least three targets a day, one of the best advantages to joining the military was the free ammunition. I'm going to have to practice firing with just my left too, when I can again, she thought. I really should have been all along and sacrificed speed and stability of fire for versatility. With such cheerful thoughts in mind, she cleaned, loaded and holstered her weapon, then put on her jacket again. She glanced at her watch. 5:30... It should be safe to go back by now. She felt guilty about leaving an hour early, but Farman had come as close to insisting as he could, given that she out-ranked him. And if I hadn't forgotten my purse, I could go right home now...she thought, climbing the stairs. If they just put the same number of pockets in blues as they do in the field kit, or even put just the two pockets in the female uniform, like they have in the male one, I wouldn't have this problem, she thought, reaching the top of the stairs and stepping out into the crowded corridor. Most people were getting off of work, a few unfortunates were starting the evening shift for critical departments.

If I'm quick and quiet, this shouldn't be a problem, Riza thought, cracking open the door to the main office. All clear, but the major's office door was slightly open. She opened the door and tiptoed into the room. She heard voices in Nialsen's office, conversing amicably. Maybe they won't notice... Riza thought hopefully, then she stepped on a squeaky floorboard and froze by her desk.

"You have mice or something?" the Major's door was pushed further open and an unfamiliar man in civilian clothing stared at her, then whistled. "Rank has its privileges, Nialsen? You lucky dog, you didn't tell me you have a cute secretary!"

Riza clutched her purse tightly. Too late to run...

"You like her?" Major Nialsenasked lazily, coming into view. "I know Riza has a busy social life, but I'm sure she can be accommodating to you, if you can deal with my schedule."

"Sure, sure," the man said, smiling. "Just as you say, you can pay me back whenever."

He's too busy staring at me to know what he's saying, Riza thought. What did Nialsen just say? She tried to make it make sense, but the words wouldn't line up. She felt as though she was thinking through cotton wool.

"So Riza..."

Don't use my name lightly you trash! Riza thought, as what had happened began to sink in- was hammered in by his next words.

Please Review!