Colonel Roy Mustang set down his pen and yawned. He glanced back at the papers he had been working on for at least an hour, then to the stack that he still had to do. He heard Lieutenant Hawkeye shuffle some of the papers on her desk around, the stacks equal in volume to his own. He frowned, today was the third day this week that the two had stayed late to try to make a dent in the ever growing files, but it seemed that the more they tried the more the piles grew. According to the clock, it was relatively early for nights like these, and he should be able to get at least a few more hours in. His vision had been blurring for the past ten minutes and now that he had yawned once, he couldn't seem to stop. He mumbled something about coffee and stretched, the thought of a steaming cup coaxing him from behind his desk and into the hall. It was still, and the moon spilled through the tall windows in luminous columns onto the floor and over his boots. They echoed heavy footsteps throughout the empty space; most of Central was sleeping at this hour. Halfway to the break room he realized that he hadn't offered any to Hawkeye. Sighing, he decided to turn back and spare having to make a second trip, or, heaven forbid, make her get her own. He opened the door and began to ask, but his offer came to a halt as he glanced in and was met with an impossibly rare sight: Riza Hawkeye, asleep at her desk.

He let out a little chuckle; even through the latest nights she didn't bat an eye. The ridiculous amount of consecutive all-nighters they had pulled in past busy seasons were not enough to knock her down, though the almost disgraceful amount of coffee probably had helped. A delicate and rare moment: Riza, with her guard down. He realized that she had not been shuffling papers earlier, but laying on them and presumably moving some out of the way to be more comfortable. Stepping into the room, he noticed her brow furrowed and tension in her jaw. Whatever sleep she seemed to be getting was not peaceful. He approached and gently touched her shoulder.

"Lieutenant, wake up," He shook her shoulder lightly, feeling the tension in her back. She stirred a little, then her breathing hitched and her face contorted with a look of terror.

"Lieutenant." It came out sternly, brimming with concern, mirroring the look on his face. His worry only grew when her eyes snapped open and he could feel her shaking. She sat up and pressed her hands to her eyes. He kneeled to face her, hand still on her shoulder, and through her panicked breaths he asked softly, "Ishval?"

She nodded. He looked away; the nightmares haunted him too. Panic attacks following them were not so foreign either. She spoke quietly, "P-please don't touch me right now, sir."

He drew his hand back immediately. "I'm sorry. You're going to be okay, try breathing with me, and focus on my voice." As he began the grounding technique, she lowered her head and took shaky breaths, hands falling from her face to a jumble on her lap. She dug her nails into her palms, listening: in, out, in, out… it helped, and after a few more breaths she could almost breathe normally again. She stared at her hands.

"Hawk—" Roy started quietly, but she cut him off, softly.

"Can I have a minute?" He stood and nodded, heading for the door. Her voice was barely a whisper. "Thank you, sir."

He shut the door carefully and went to the break room: tea now sounded much better than coffee, and he was certain Riza would appreciate a cup.

—-

Riza Hawkeye had never fallen asleep on the job before. Never, not even in Ishval, with the hot desert sun beating her down and the endless days of dread weighing heavily on her shoulders, had she slept when she was supposed to be working. The past few weeks had been extremely tiring, what with all the paperwork due in two days and there being a sea of it left. This was not anything new, working under Colonel Roy Procrastination Mustang tended to be this way. She had not had time to eat lunch that day and chalked it up to a mixture of hunger and exhaustion. Still inexcusable, she scolded herself.

Then there was the matter of the nightmare and the panic attack. Over the last two weeks or so, especially after working late, her nights had been peppered with them, accompanied by a generally unsettled stomach. Usually she did not come face to face with the toilet bowl, but she had been a little too close for comfort to it more than she cared to admit. She was not sure why, nothing had explicitly happened to trigger her thoughts of Ishval or what she had seen there. Some were vivid to the point of screaming herself awake, which made her especially thankful for Hayate's comforting nudges. She briefly reflected on this while trying to get her hands to steady as soon as Roy had left the room.

He'd seen her like this before, but she still did not like feeling so vulnerable in front of anyone. He did help her calm down, since he knew how, and she let him stay longer than in the past. She always liked to have a few minutes to herself to pick up the pieces and get composed in the aftermath. This is what she was doing when Roy quietly opened the door and walked over to her desk, placing a steaming mug of her favorite tea, with honey and lemon, gently in front of her. She did not look at him, but rather the tea, the way his hands set it carefully down and went back to his sides. She gave a small nod of thanks and he walked back to his desk. She reached out and took a sip; it was perfect.

Mustang started packing up his desk, clearing his throat. "Whaddayousay we call it a night, Lieutenant?" he asked, shoving some papers in a briefcase and organizing the rest into messy piles. Riza looked up and lowered her tea.

"Sir, it's still early. There's still much to—"

"Finish tomorrow, exactly what I was thinking." He picked up the end of her sentence, twisting it to let her know that it was not a question, or a suggestion, but a finite decision. "Go home and get some rest." She tried to protest again, but he put up a hand to stop her. As he strode nonchalantly out of the room, tossed back, "I'm going to bring the car around, be down there in five." Riza sighed and began to pack up her things. She put the cup, now empty, on the edge of her desk while she finished sorting her remaining work. Once Roy had his mind set on something, it was almost pointless to argue. She had silently agreed to accept his offer for a ride home, partially because he did not stick around for her to decline, and partially because she did not want to walk the twenty minutes it took on nights like these. Usually she did not mind, but she was still a little shaken and though her mind was more at ease, her stomach began somersaulting. She slung her bag over her shoulder and picked up the cup, scanning the room one last time before flipping off the light and stepping into the moonlit hallway.

—-

Mustang had the car parked in front of the main entrance. He had tossed his jacket and briefcase in the back seat; it was a warm night and the windows were rolled down. He drummed his fingers on the wheel. It had been ten minutes, and he had just started to wonder if Hawkeye had snuck out the back and started to walk home when she opened the door and slid into the passenger seat.

"What took you?" he asked, putting the car into drive and easing onto the main road.

"I stopped to take care of the teacup. Sorry to have kept you waiting, sir." She shrugged her bag onto the floor by her feet and removed her blue jacket. He noticed she was paler than before, her voice softer and a little scratchy. She sat back and put the jacket next to her, in between them. Stretching her arms, she yawned. Mustang glanced over at her and then back at the road. A few minutes of silence passed, broken when Roy took a right. Hawkeye frowned. "It was a left there…"

"Construction." He responded simply. They elapsed into a comfortable and tired silence, save for the rushing of wind and the sound of tires on asphalt. Riza rested her head against the side of the door so that the air was blowing on her face, a nice breeze to combat the night's heat and her seemingly inescapable nausea. She closed her eyes and yawned again. More than once, Roy found himself looking at her and savoring details with each glance: the moonlight on her hair, the stray strand that he wanted to tuck back into place, the gentle way her hands were sitting on her lap, the peaceful look on her face. She was sleeping again by the time he pulled up to the apartment complex that she lived in. He did not want to disturb her, but knew she would be sound asleep as soon as she got to her bed, not to mention much more comfortable than in the passenger seat of his car. He reached out to touch her but thought better of it and instead said gently, "We're here."

She woke up like it had been a huge surprise that she was asleep. A little disoriented, she picked up her bag and got out. Before she closed the door she thanked him for the ride, and he responded with an earnest nod. He pulled forward slowly and glanced at her in the rearview mirror walking towards the entrance of the apartment building, and before driving away, made sure she made it safely inside.

He was halfway home when he discovered her jacket was still in the front seat.