A/N: Hello friends! Several of you told me, in your wonderful reviews, that you really enjoyed the 'unwritten rules' from the last chapter. If you enjoyed that type of writing, please check out Sekehm's wonderful story 'Supplemental Rules and Regulations'. It's a truly funny take on the same sort of FMA concept. It's listed in my favorites, if anyone is interested!

Thank you, once again, to my amazing reviewers/readers. You guys are truly wonderful. I adore you all!

I do not own Fullmetal Alchemist, or any of its characters.

The Words that Run Between

It was extremely rare for Riza Hawkeye to see a hospital from the other side. As a soldier, and especially a soldier in the Colonel's accident-prone brigade, she frequented them more often than she'd have liked. But typically she was only visiting; stopping by to see Edward, bruised and beaten and swaddled in bandages once again, or to support the tragically uncoordinated Fuery and his lack of depth perception as he received yet another set of stitches.

Or to give Havoc a good scolding, reminding him yet again that if he continued to provoke superior officers with short tempers and quasi magical powers, then the collateral damage was his own damn fault.

But Hawkeye could count on one hand the number of times that it had been her tucked into the hospital bed. And of those four or five instances, only twice had she been admitted for actual injury. According to her track record, illness crippled her more than injury. She'd undergone a minor surgery a few years back, to have her appendix removed. And the year after that, she'd caught a terrible flu virus that had been galloping around Central, and fainted right in the middle of bringing the Colonel his stack of paperwork.

Years later, looking back on that moment of ridiculous female fluttering still made her cringe. But surprisingly, the boys had never used that moment of complete weakness as ammunition for their joke arsenal. She had a feeling that it had something to do with the absolute fear she'd seen on their faces when she'd finally come to.

Riza sighed, and turned her face to the open window. A cool breeze, the byproduct of early spring, danced around the open glass, gently stirring away the antibacterial and completely impersonal smell of the hospital room. She rubbed absent fingers against the white bandages packed into her side. Her face appeared calm, almost serene, but there was a secret desperation boiling just under her skin. While she was lying here, immobilized and unable to leave, her mission was wandering about unprotected. In this state, she couldn't even defend herself, let alone him. She felt naked, raw, uncomfortably stripped of all that defined who she was.

And he hadn't come to see her.

Fuery had come almost immediately, bearing a bag of fresh fruit and a rather adorable blush. Breda had come a few hours later, dragging Falman along with him. The two had brought a deck of cards, and talked the lieutenant into playing several hands of poker. Havoc had sauntered in the next day, and dropped an extremely racy romance novel onto her bed. With a broad wink, he had told her that it would 'help pass the time'.

It had taken Hawkeye all of five seconds to conclude that he was taking complete advantage of the absence of her gun.

Even the Elrics had stopped by. Hawkeye had blinked at their windswept appearance, and with the dawning realization that they had rushed back from a mission to see her came an odd sort of sentimental bemusement. She hadn't realized that she meant so much to them.

Alphonse had offered her a bag of sweets and gentle wishes for her good health. She'd smiled at him (she'd smiled at all of them), but the sight of the older Elric had brought the desperation knotting in her belly to an almost painful twist. She'd tried so hard to bury her feelings deep enough, to keep them unseen, but it had been days, and the weight of not knowing was starting to bend her in half. She had pride, had it spades, but like everything else, she would sacrifice for the one who mattered most.

"Edward," she'd said, quietly, because showing so much vulnerability all but choked her. "You will…look after him for me, won't you? While I'm away. Please, it's very important." She'd attempted a small smile, to try and redeem even a little of her equilibrium. "You know how abysmal he is at taking care of himself. He needs constant monitoring."

The boy's golden eyes had filled with awareness, with understanding. He'd inclined his head, a tiny nod of agreement that instantly soothed some of the knots in Hawkeye's stomach. And then a wicked smirk had stretched his face, and she'd felt great relief, because it meant that he was about to put them back on even ground.

"Sure, Lieutenant. We'd be happy to take care of Black Hayate for you, wouldn't we Al?"

And Hawkeye had laughed, her first real laugh in what felt like weeks.

That had been two days ago. She still had three days of enforced recovery time left, possibly five if the bleeding continued. It had only taken Hawkeye one to come to the grim realization that she'd probably go quietly insane before her sentence was up. Stress she could handle, ridiculous situations, brought about by both true danger and complete stupidity, had become a part of her daily life. But this, this complete lack of movement, of doing, left her floundering. The white walls surrounding her seemed to creep a few inches closer every day. Every time they changed her bandages, Hawkeye felt bits of herself leak out onto the sheets, along with the blood. She was naked before them, stripped of any purpose, and anything familiar to cling to.

She wanted to rage, to scream, to shout demands for her release. But she only sighed and continued to stare out the window. She'd spent so long proving that she was stronger than that. She wouldn't screw it up now.

He hadn't come to see her.

But had she really expected him to?

The door opened. Hawkeye turned, a small smile of reassurance ready on her face for whatever doctor, or member of her squad, might be visiting now. It faltered, just a little, when she saw just who was shadowing the threshold.

He was here. He was here, and he was all right, and suddenly it was so much easier to breathe.

"Sir," she said, snapping her shoulders as straight as she could manage.

Roy Mustang's face was cool, almost impassive, as he stepped inside the room. But Hawkeye had learned long ago to read the soft and subtle layer of actual feeling that rested just below the mask he always wore. He loped into her room with easy grace, his small smile and hands tucked neatly into his pockets signifying almost indifference. But the tension in his arms suggested that those hands were out of sight because they were fisted, and the careless smile was somewhat ruined by the anger in those eyes.

Oh, yes. Maybe only Hawkeye could see it, but the Colonel was well and truly pissed. And she knew, without a doubt, that she was the cause of his silent fury.

"First Lieutenant," Mustang said easily. "You're looking extremely well for someone who took a bullet to the side only a few days ago."

And Hawkeye bit her cheek to hide her smile, because that wasn't what he was really saying at all. They often had conversations like this, where the words became meaningless, and the things said in between held the real substance. His actual words might have implied relief that she was recovering, but she translated his real message with ease.

Idiot. If you weren't already injured, I'd flame you myself.

"It's only a flesh wound, Sir." Hawkeye reminded him. "It hardly did anything more than scrape off some skin."

Get over it, you big baby. It barely grazed me.

Roy's eyes flashed dangerously.

"Regardless," he almost purred. "Your actions were admirable. Admirable enough that I believe you'll be getting another bar on your uniform once you're released."

Damn it, I never asked you to push me out of the way. You knew that bullet was meant for me. I should be the one in the hospital bed.

Hawkeye met the Colonel's anger with cool amusement. The look she used to return his glare was level, and almost bland.

"I'm honored."

You didn't need to ask. I told you a long time ago that I'd always protect you. That includes nudging you out of the way of enemy fire, you moron.

The Colonel's arms tensed even tighter, and Hawkeye spared a brief glance for the pockets that hid his hands. Without seeing, she knew that some sort of helpless anger had tightened his fists.

"Your continued dedication as a soldier is something I greatly appreciate," he said.

I don't want anyone to get hurt because of me. Not ever again.

Hawkeye's smile softened, became one of gentle understanding.

"Thank you, sir. You continue to make it worthwhile."

You've known from the beginning that to reach your goal, you'd have to step on some backs. But you're not really hurting me if I laid down and offered mine, are you?

Mustang ducked his head. To others, it might have looked like some sort of shrug, a byproduct of his studied indifference.

"It seems that I spend a good chunk of my time here," he said, with an easy humor that was completely false. "I have no idea how I ended up with such injury prone subordinates."

It's different. When Havoc gets hurt, or Fuery, they do it out of loyalty. With you, there's more. There's always been more.

"You picked us, Sir," Hawkeye reminded him gently, "because of our willingness to give loyalty more weight than risk."

I know that there's more. But I promised anyway, didn't I? To push you to the top. My personal feelings don't affect that goal, and neither should yours.

Roy nodded, just a little.

"I suppose that's true."

I know. You're right. But that doesn't make it any easier, to see you here.

Hawkeye didn't speak this time, but let her smile contribute to the silent conversation instead.

Promises always have a price. Especially promises as heavy as yours.

Roy let out a quiet breath, and then raised his head again.

"Your fellow soldiers in my command have been giving me constant updates as to your recovery," he said, and Hawkeye's smile widened. It was an apology.

I'm sorry I didn't come to see you sooner. You know that I…I can't let anyone realize how much you actually mean to me. I won't let them hurt you just because I care.

"I hope they weren't too obnoxious about it," she said.

Stop worrying. I understand. I've always understood.

Promises always have a price.

"Not at all." Roy's mouth crooked, with real humor this time. "Except for Fullmetal, of course. He's always obnoxious."

He's been tailing me like a puppy for the past week. You told him to watch me, didn't you?

"You really shouldn't be so hard on him, Sir."

Of course. As if I could ever trust you to take care of yourself. The whole reason I'm here is because you couldn't move your own ass out of the line of fire, remember?

"Perhaps if he wasn't such a reckless brat, I wouldn't have to be," Roy said, his voice as dry as dust.

Thanks for the vote of confidence. I'll tolerate it, but if he keeps camping out in my office, he's going to end up in the bed next to yours before the week is out.

Hawkeye smothered a chuckle.

"I'll be out soon, Sir," she said. "And then you won't have to deal with him on your own."

If you flame him, Alphonse will very politely break your spine.

Roy rolled his eyes.

"Wonderful."

The response needed no translation, because the text and the subtext had the same meaning. For a moment, Mustang just looked at her, so alone and all but swallowed up by the cradle of white blankets. Hawkeye watched as intentions passed over his face, on that subtle underlayer. With his eyes, he let her know exactly what he would be doing if he could. He wanted to touch her hair, to hold her hands, to press gentle fingers against her side.

Instead, he took a deep, steadying breath.

"I'm glad you're doing well, Lieutenant," he said, and his voice was impersonal again. "I have to head back to the office. But I'll be sure to tell all of the others about your progress."

The disappointment was instinctive, and it was ridiculous. Impatiently, Hawkeye brushed it aside.

"I'd appreciate it," she said, with a smile that was just as distant as his. "Tell them that I'll be back in a few days, and that the piles of paperwork that have no doubt been building up in my absence had better be taken care of."

She arched her brow, just a little.

That means you, Roy. Don't make me shoot you on my first day back.

Roy cleared his throat hastily, his face the picture of false innocence.

"Understood," he said.

The Colonel took two steps towards the door, and then checked himself, as if suddenly remembering something. He turned around, and strolled back, coming right up to the edge of Hawkeye's bed this time.

"Sir," she said warningly, while twin jackhammers of alarm and exhilaration pounded away in her chest.

"The bullet you took was a small part of a bigger whole," he said grimly. "I feel uneasy about leaving my subordinates unarmed with such a dangerous threat still at large."

I can't be here. So hold on to this instead.

There was a sudden weight on the blankets, and the shine of something silver.

"Take care, Lieutenant."

Come back soon. Please. I need you.

And then he was gone, and the majority of the oxygen seemed to leave the room in his wake.

Hawkeye spent the next three days recovering. The Colonel didn't come to see her again. But this time, when any of her fellow officers came to visit, she was able to make her smiles genuine. Fuery had brought her fruit. Breda and Falman had brought her cards, and a few hours of much needed distraction. Havoc had delivered a raunchy book, a joke that covered his very real concern. The Elric brothers had brought her sweets, and a promise to look after her job while she couldn't.

But only Roy had known her well enough to understand that to truly help her settle, she needed a tangible reminder of her mission, of herself.

Hawkeye kept her gun hidden under the sheets while she visited with her friends. She was pretty sure that they all knew it was there anyway, but nobody took it away.

Perhaps they all understood her better than she'd thought. They knew that she couldn't have Roy to hold, and to draw comfort from. But she could have the next best thing.

Promises always have a price.