Riza felt terrible. She had not been this sick for a while, and the thought of having to endure a day or two of feeling crappy and being potentially useless, and laying around until she felt better made her feel worse. She was relieved that she fell asleep on the ride back, even if it was a little embarrassing. Falling asleep in Roy Mustang's car was a lot less embarrassing than throwing up all over it, which is exactly what she did to the toilet as soon as she got into her apartment. Hayate sat in the doorway of the bathroom and looked with curiosity at his owner. "Sorry, boy," Riza said quietly after retching. He turned and acted as a guard dog, eyes and ears alert for anything that could potentially harm Riza in her moments of vulnerability.
After the first bout passed, she cautiously got into her pajamas and put her hair up into a high bun, making sure to get her bangs out of her face. Bangs were always a hassle when vomit was involved, as was long hair. Better to get it out of the way early to avoid any nasty messes later. Filling a glass of water in the kitchen and taking a sip on the way back to the bathroom, she heard a soft knock at the door. She dreaded answering in her current state, not to mention the feeling of an imminent repeat of earlier. She debated just ignoring it, but a glance at the clock told her that anyone knocking this late had a good reason to.
Mustang stood with the jacket casually over his arm. It could be mistaken for his own—he had shed it when returning to Riza's apartment and was in a white button up collared shirt and uniform pants—but upon further observation it could be seen that it was several sizes too small. He knocked quietly; if she didn't answer he would just sneak in and drape it over the chair by her desk. Her spare key was hidden behind the molding around her door about four inches from the floor on the left side, she told him "in case of emergencies." Formalities, damn them. He knocked softly a second time, and a few seconds later Riza cracked the door open. Seeing it was him, she opened it a little wider, confusion spreading across her face.
"Roy?" A beat of silence passed before Riza realized what she had said. "Er, Colonel?" She squinted at the hall light; he could see it was dark in her apartment. Her voice sounded raspier than before, he thought perhaps from sleep. Her hair was up in a messy bun and her bangs were pulled back—the combined effect threw Roy just enough that it took him a bit to remember why he had come back in the first place. She waited another couple of seconds. "Sir?" He fumbled the jacket forward.
"Uh, you forgot your jacket in my car." He held it out. She reached slowly and took it. "Are you feeling okay, Riza?" She blinked at him, still squinting.
"Mmfine." she said, though her voice was a hair more high pitched than normal. That settled it, she was definitely not okay—he had used her first name and she barely noticed. He decided not to press it further, not wanting to make it worse. He remembered whenever she got sick when they were young, she never liked having him around. He figured she knew that she could always ask him for anything, whether it be to stay or to go away.
"Okay. Well if there's anything you need, you know where to find me."
"Thank you."
He nodded and turned to go, but spun back around at the last second. "Carpool tomorrow, right? Same time same place?" He had caught her right before she shut the door.
"Oh, yeah." There was an awkward pause.
"Have a nice afternoon, Lieutenant." he offered. She gave a small smile and nod before closing the door. Roy headed to his car, cursing himself. Have a nice evening? Damn it, Mustang! It's past midnight. Afternoon. He sounded like an idiot. It was not anything new, but it was still embarrassing.
As it turned out, Riza did not give two shits about the time of day or how Mustang mixed it up; she was preoccupied with her stomach revolting against any of her desperate wishes to settle. Eventually she set up on the couch with a glass of water and a large bowl. Getting up to rinse it out was a bit of a hassle, but she would rather be comfortable on the couch than cold on the bathroom floor. There was not a lot to get rid of, and she hated dry heaving almost as much as actually throwing up. She curled up on one end of the couch when her insides finally settled down. Sleep came quickly: she was already exhausted, and being sick compounded the strain on her body.
—-
Riza did not show up at the usual spot for the carpool the next morning. Roy had expected it; she was obviously unwell last night. He decided to give it another five minutes, in case she was (uncharacteristically and almost unfathomably) running late. He supposed there were several uncharacteristic happenings from the past few days. Roy passed the time by messing with the radio and drumming on the steering wheel. He pulled down the visor to check if his hair was perfectly tousled. It was, as always, he observed with satisfaction. He sat with the windows open and his head propped in his hand. Five minutes crawled by. Starting the motor, he decided a quick stop by her apartment to check up on her was acceptable, and warranted. Perhaps she had tried to call and cancel, or forgotten and walked, or, and this would be truly shocking, overslept. There were a slew of possibilities that ran through his mind as he drove. Most of them were not cause for much anxiety, but the few that were had him walking a little faster than usual when he parked and made his way to her door.
For a second his hand hung in the air, posed to strike. His hesitation passed as quickly as it had come on, and he gave three staccato knocks. He stood back and waited for a response that did not come, prompting him to lean close to the door and listen. Silence. He tried again, and again, no answer. He debated leaving, but thought that since he had made it this far he might as well quell his concerns. This was not the first time he had done something similar, though he does admit to himself that he was embarrassed to discover she was just in the shower as opposed to ill or missing. But they have an understanding. With that thought, he wiggled the key from its hiding place and unlocked the door. As he cracked the door and peered inside, he knocked loudly. From another room, Hayate let out a low growl.
Gingerly, he opened the door wider. "Lieutenant?" Silence. "It's Roy, I'm coming in." He did not hear anything except the creak of the door and Hayate jingling over to him. He bent down and patted Hayate, "Hiya, boy." Hayate tilted his head and barked, then turned and trotted to the living room. Roy followed, his footsteps sounding through the small hallway. He glanced into the kitchen on the way, and down the other hallway, before coming to a stop in the entryway to the living room. One look at Hawkeye, sound asleep on the couch, told him that she should not, and would not, be working today. He quietly walked over to the small desk and made quick use of a pen and some sticky notes. He stuck the note in what he calculated to be her direct line of sight for when she woke up. Not that the Hawk's Eye would ever miss a bright yellow note that had not previously been there. He then quietly called the dog, who had retreated to the bedroom, "C'mere, Hayate! Where's your leash?"
After walking Hayate and letting him back into Riza's apartment, he took one last glance around to make sure all was settled. Roy relocked the door and headed to the office. Ten minutes into the day, he noticed the rest of the team was looking curiously between him and Hawkeye's empty desk. Finally, Fuery spoke up.
"Excuse me, Colonel? Where's Lieutenant Hawkeye this morning?"
Mustang did not stop attending to his paperwork or look up. "She's taking a long weekend." He glanced nervously at his phone; when she woke up he knew there would be some stern words. The thought kept him on edge and he found himself working consistently until lunch. From then on he began the usual on and off, half-assed process in which he normally did paperwork. While idly trying to balance a pen on his nose, he quickly fumbled it back to his desk when his phone broke the silence with a shrill ring. He immediately picked it up, dread crowding his stomach. Before he could say so much as a hello, Riza's voice sounded loud and clear. Roy grimaced.
"What the hell, Colonel?"