Disclaimer: Nothing's changed.I still don't own it.

A/N: Wow. I'm updating this so fast, it's not even funny. But then, if I didn't get so many reviews, I wouldn't be writing so fast. So thank you! As of now, I have 17 reviews. That's a record people. "Me Neither" had the most reviews--13--but now it has been dethroned! THANK YOU SO VERY MUCH!

I love all of my reviewers, even the ones who say they don't like my stories. I have no problem with that. In anycase, it makes me appreciate the good reviews even more. Anyway, my goal for this story is 12,000 words and 20 reviews. So far, I'm right on track! And this chapter is short (unlike this author's note) but the next one will be long.

Also, it is the last real chapter. After that is the epilogue. It's gone really fast, hasn't it?(At least I think so.) Anyway, please continue to enjoy.

OOOOOOOOOOO

"Hayate, I've got to go back eventually," Riza said to the dog, who ignored her and continued crunching on his dog food. "But I don't..." She struggled to find her train of thought. Why was she talking to Black Hayate so much lately? Riza sighed. She had been eager to write an important entry in her diary—she had come to a conclusion about her feelings, but whenever she thought about actually writing it, Riza felt herself seize up. She didn't want to write her conclusion, but she didn't want to go into the office today, either.

It had only been yesterday since she had stormed out, enraged after overhearing Spitifre calling her lazy. Riza had abruptly taken the day off, without bothering to notify Mustang. Not surprisingly, it did not appear that he noticed her absence, and if he did, he didn't care, otherwise she had assumed that he would call. But he hadn't, and that only proved her point.

Riza knew she needed to go back to work, but she hadn't sorted her feelings out as well as she had wanted to. Was it even possible to resolve such puzzling feelings?

Her clock chimed ten times. It was already late in the afternoon.

"I suppose that I need to go," Riza remarked to Hayate. She grabbed her coat and walked meaningfully towards the door; she even got as far as putting her hand on the brass knob before pausing. She just couldn't face him. Not today. Not when her hatred for him was only matched by her desire for him. Neither were the emotions that were supposed to be directed to her superior.

"I can't do it Hayate," She mumbled. "I know that I have to confront my feelings for him...but I can't. I'm...too...scared...of what I'll find myself confronting."

Black Hayate turned his warm eyes away from his food for a moment to gaze in confusion at his master. Her tone of voice was not familiar to him, and it was making him nervous. He whimpered. Riza smiled half-heartedly and bent down to scratch him behind the ears.

"Thanks for caring Hayate."

His tail started wagging.

She sighed and returned her coat to its hanger. She wasn't going to go. But she was going to write in her diary, and write about what she sorely wished would just leave her alone. Emotions had never been so tedious towards her.

Riza walked into her bedroom to retrieve her diary, and was mildly surprised that it wasn't there. That was odd. She usually never took it out of that room. Where else would she have left it? Riza spent a few minutes hunting around her room. When was the last time she had seen it? She had been writing in it yesterday at three in the morning, then she had gone to the office. So where...?

"Hayate, do you know where—? " Riza asked, even as she realized the answer. Her stomach twisted in a most unpleasant fashion. She had taken it with her to her office, intending to write in it there if she had gotten a chance. She had put it on a pile of papers, and she had given those papers to...

Riza bolted out the door, not even bothering to grab her coat. Hayate's ears perked up, and he watched the door for a while, expecting her to pop back in. When she didn't, Black Hayate settled down on her bed; he wasn't allowed on the bed when she was present, but when she was gone, he always took the time to enjoy it.

"How could I have been so stupid!" Riza asked herself as she dashed towards the military headquarters. The one time she had taken her diary anywhere other than her room, she left it in the stupidest place imaginable. Riza tried to calm herself down. She probably hadn't taken it with the pile of papers to Mustang's office; she had most likely shoved it in her impeccably clean desk, and just didn't remember doing it. After all, she hadn't remembered carrying it to her office for a while.

When she reached the military headquarters, she forced herself to stop running, and be satisfied with a quick walk. It still seemed to take an eternity to get to her office. And when she got there, Riza searched every single place she would have ever stored something in.

She did not find it.

Finally, Riza concluded there was one last thing for her to do.

She had to go see a Colonel Roy Mustang.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOO

Roy pulled out the diary from his desk drawer and flipped it open to last page he had read. Apparently, the author was having a particularly tremulous time with the all-mighty P-51, because he was cheating on her. At least that was how he understood it. The entry was a very long one, but he was on its final paragraphs.

And yet after writing all of this, I still am no closer to resolving my feelings for P-51. He is arrogant, selfish, prideful, lazy; motivated, loyal, strong, handsome—all of these traits describe him. The first four I loathe. The latter four I adore. It used to be so simple being around him. All I had to do was listen to his orders and follow them. I made sure that he didn't do something hideously stupid or get himself killed. But now...Every time I see him, I can't decide whether or not I want to hit him or kiss him. And neither of these is an appropriate course of action.

Why? Why after all of this time, has this happened now? Maybe it is because of Mk.XIV. She came along, and forced me into some interesting situations. Maybe I have always felt like this. Maybe I just failed to recognize it because it was already so much a part of me.

I don't know.

But it doesn't matter.

He doesn't care, doesn't notice, doesn't understand. He probably never will. And yet I shall follow him. I shall help him, be there for him. There is something about him that makes me stay, even though there is no logical reason to.

And thus this brings me to my final conclusion. These are the words that I will never express on my lips, nor to him in anyway or form. But here, I have to write it.

My true feelings for P-51.

I think, to the furthest extent of my knowledge, that this emotion can fully be qualified as such.

P-51. I

Roy blinked. That was all it said. The sentence was left unfinished. He frantically flipped through the remaining pages, and was disappointed. There was no more. That was it. And he still hadn't figured out whose diary it was.

"Sir, have you seen a small—" Riza asked anxiously, bursting through the door. Roy was so startled that he didn't even have time to shove the diary in his desk. Her eyes fell on it and she finished her sentence as a gasp. "—book."

Neither said anything for a moment, their eyes just frozen, locked with each other's. Riza felt her entire body stiffen and fill with a thousand different emotions, each as powerful as the other. Roy saw the utterly stunned look on her face, and painfully realized that the diary he had just finished reading was...

And then the eternal moment ended, and as if to make up for its length, everything else happened at twice the normal speed. Roy watched her face contort in horror and Riza spun around and ran out of the room. He jumped up from his seat, pausing only to grab the diary, and ran after her.

"Hawkeye! Wait!" He called to her, startled to see just how far down the hallway she was already.

Riza ran all the way to the sanctuary of her office, ignoring his calls. She didn't want to—couldn't, absolutely couldn't—face him now. Her throat was once again tight, and her eyes warned her that she was on the verge of crying.

She flung open her office door, and shut it behind her. To her dismay, Spitfire was standing at her desk. Spitfire eyed her for a moment.

"Hawkeye. You left early yesterday. Are you all right--?" Spitfire began.

"Get out!" Riza yelled. "Just...get out..." She couldn't speak anymore. It took all of her willpower not to start bawling that instant. Spitfire gave her a worried look, and left.

Riza sank into her chair, and stared at the ceiling until she got control of herself. It took her a long time.

OOOOOOOOOOOO

Several hours, her eyes flew open. Riza glanced around her office, trying to orient herself. Momentarily she realized that she had fallen asleep. Soon after, she remembered why she was in her office behind a locked door.

"Shit..." Riza murmured. She was surprisingly emotionless. The rational part of her mind noted that she was in a state of shock.

There was a knock on the door—Riza assumed that was why she had woken in the first place.

"What do you want?" She asked bitterly.

"Hawkeye...I need to talk to you. Please." It was Mustang. Riza got up duly and opened the door. She didn't care anymore. He entered, his face a strange mix of emotions. Riza waited.

"Hawkeye, I want to talk about this P-51."

OOOOOOOOOOO