DISCLAIMER: I LAY NO CLAIM TO ANY MONETARY OR INTELLECTUAL RIGHTS REGARDING THE CANON FULLMETAL ALCHEMIST CHARACTERS AND CONCEPTS, NOR AM I GAINING PROFIT FROM THIS FANFICTION

A/N: See, this is where I start getting nervous and say to myself, "Oh my gods, what if everybody hates it! What if I've spent so much time on this thing that I think people will like only to create something that everybody except myself can see is total BS! AAAAUGH!" Because writing a fic in a straight shot like this, without reviews to go on, is a big risk in the fanfiction world, since feedback is necessary to fix problems the readers might have with characterization or plot events. I know many fanfic authors cling desperately to their original writing and would probably refuse to change it even if Jesus appeared unto them and asked real nice, and I understand that line of thought, but since I want to actually write for a living someday I have to be able to see what people like and don't like about my style…but I'm rambling, and it's five AM, and I should let/force you all get on with reading/hating my wonderful/crappy fanfic. Once again, please review, and don't be afraid to criticize politely!

Incendiary Device

Chapter 3: Hawk-Eyed Guardian

Stunned by the impact of the bottle, Roy swayed on his feet, trying desperately not to fall over. He tasted something metallic and realized that the injury to the back of his head had made his nose start bleeding. Dodging a few more attacks, Roy tried to work his way toward the door, but before he had time to shake off the blurriness caused by the bottle hitting his skull one of the largest patrons had slipped an arm around his neck and was holding the jagged edge of the bottle dangerously close to his eye.

"Now," growled the man, squeezing his arm nearly tight enough to cut off Roy's air, "I believe we asked you to apologize to George, here."

Roy spat blood onto the floor, "He's the one who should apologize."

"What for? For telling the truth about that military-dog Colonel and his coward bully lackeys? Those incompetent sons-of-bitches should apologize to us, for wastin' our time with useless inquisitions while murderers are runnin' free in our streets!

Rage coursed through Roy's body, the kind of rage he hadn't felt in a long time. He twisted in the attacker's grip. "God damn you to hell, bastards!" he screamed, holding his hand in front of him, fingers poised to send them all there.

Suddenly, a gunshot rang out from the direction of the door. The man holding Roy cursed and let go, dropping the bottle as well and clutching his hand. "Nobody move!" The commanding female voice froze all movement in the bar. Liza Hawkeye walked calmly into the middle of the mess, blue uniform spotted with rain from her search for the Colonel. She kept her pistol and her gaze locked on the man who'd had Roy in a headlock when she arrived, glancing at the Colonel as she moved nearer to him. Her superior was obviously struggling to stay on his feet, and definitely the worse for wear.

"Please remove your gloves, sir," she said quietly, her tone leaving no room for argument. Roy did as he was told, tucking the weapons back into his pocket as Hawkeye lectured the startled bartender and patrons, "The military offers its apologies for the misbehavior of one of its officers in your establishment, and will pay in full all repair and medical bills. Please contact me with addresses so that we may send you the money and also," she paused, her amber eyes flashing dangerously, "to learn the truth behind those vicious rumors you have been helping to spread. The military does not target the innocent. Remember that. Call Central Headquarters and ask for First Lieutenant Elizabeth Hawkeye when you wish to receive your checks."

Hawkeye kept the pistol trained on the room with one hand. With the other, she took Roy's arm, draped it around her shoulders, and supported him as they left the bar.

Once they were safely outside and away from the bar, Hawkeye holstered her gun and instructed Roy to stand on his own for a moment. Briskly, she removed her overcoat and draped it over his shoulders. Though a bit small, it was warm and helped to protect him from the rain. Finished, she pulled him back toward her and they set off in the direction of the hospital.

By the time they reached the hospital grounds, Roy's adrenaline rush had worn off and he was feeling the effects of the half-bottle of scotch he'd drunk and the beating he'd taken. As such, he didn't immediately register that Hawkeye had asked him a question.

"Huh?" he said, concentrating on the ground in front of him.

"I said, how did you manage to get the night nurse to let you out?"

Roy thought about this for a moment, then remembered, "Didn' let me out…went out the window."

Hawkeye stopped abruptly, causing Roy to trip over his own feet and nearly fall. She was staring him with an unreadable expression on her face. "Damn…well, I guess you'll be in lockup wing after this."

Fear shot through Roy at the idea of being confined to bed any longer than he had to be, making him almost lucid again, "No, doan' tell!" he begged, "Couldn' stand bein' locked up, barely stood bein' confined t' my room!"

About to give Mustang a good talking-to about responsibility and accepting the consequences of your actions, Liza paused when she saw the look in his eyes. It was true, she reflected. The Colonel hated being stuck inside for more than a day or two. Being forced to stay in the hospital for a week had nearly…well, not nearly, had actually driven him crazy. If he had to stay in solitary lock-up, confined to bed, while he recovered from this latest misdemeanor, he could end up even worse than he was now. The only other time she'd seen him this bad was right after Hughes…

Hawkeye shook her head as a groan of misery from Roy brought her back to the present dilemma. "Fine," she said, "I'll give in this time, but only because I know you're right. My apartment is close to here and I have a car in the parking lot. I'll take you to my place and we can get you cleaned up."

Slowly, Hawkeye helped Roy turn in the direction of the parking lot and limp toward her car. He made it to the vehicle, leaned against the side, slumped down to the ground and passed out. Hawkeye sighed, opened the passenger door, and heaved him into the car, being as careful as she possibly could. It's a good thing, she reflected, that I weight train for the obstacle course, or I'd be out of luck.

Once Roy was secured with his seatbelt, Liza closed the passenger door and got into the driver's seat. She started the car and pulled out of the parking lot, driving slowly down the streets until her eyes got used to the dark. Even with the headlights, the rain obscured almost everything outside of a ten-foot radius. It looked like the storm would get heavier as the day went on, rather than clearing up as predicted.