DISCLAIMER, INDEED.

A/N: This is the last completed chapter I'll have for a while, life's about to get a bit hectic. Until then, you'll have to be content with the "false ending" I stuck in there. Unlike "Return of the King," however, this will be the only false ending in this piece. . R and R, until we next meet, farewell!

Incendiary Device

Chapter 6: Rules are Made, But for What?

"It's only three thirty in the morning, sir, and from the way you look and the way I feel we both need sleep. I've got some pajamas and clean clothes here for you, you can have the bed, I'll sleep on the couch. I'll set my alarm for six AM, which gives us plenty of time to get you back to the hospital before the nurses check beds at seven."

Roy stood, shaking his head, "I'll take the couch. It's your house, and you've done enough for me already."

Amused by this sudden bout of chivalry, Liza decided there was only one way to make the Colonel come to his senses, "Look, you have two options: You in the bed and me on the couch, or both of us in the bed. Either way, you're the injured one, you're the one who needs an actual bed."

Oh, sweet mother of god, the voice in Roy's head moaned, the last thing I need right now is her making suggestions like that! He held his hands up in a gesture of surrender, "Okay, I yield! You're a markswoman with words as well as firearms, I see." He grinned and held a hand out for the clothes, which she handed over.

"Good night, sir. I'll wake you at six thirty for breakfast." Liza barely gave him time to reply, "good night," before she turned and left, grabbing a blanket and pillow from the linen closet on the way to the living room. Her face felt hot, she was sure that she was blushing furiously. I can't believe I said that! She thought, and then, but it's almost too bad he didn't pick the other option…what am I thinking! Tired, that was it, she was tired. She hadn't had more than a few hours of sleep in the past week, after all. It was fatigue talking, plain and simple. Liza made herself a nest on the couch, snuggled under her blankets, and shut her eyes. Sleep-deprivation ensured that she was out within minutes.

Roy changed into the pajamas Liza had brought him, cotton drawstring pajama pants and an old military academy shirt that were soft enough not to aggravate his injuries. He remembered seeing a laundry hamper in the bathroom and went looking for it. A little guilty about imposing on Hawkeye's time, he stuffed his pants into the hamper to join his shirt and socks. He wandered back to the bedroom, tired but curious to see what kind of life Hawkeye led at home.

The walls of the hallway were bare, but there was a painting of a house on a tropical beach hanging above the bed. Various certificates and awards were grouped on the wall above the bureau, most of them for sharpshooting, a few for being wounded in combat, and one that said simply, "outstanding service." The really extraordinary thing about the room, though, was the books. There were three huge bookshelves against one wall, but those had reached maximum capacity long ago. Books were absolutely everywhere, in no order that Roy could discern. Fantasy novels crowned stacks of medical reference books, art anthologies stood shelved next to murder mysteries, play scripts and paperback romances fought for ground next to history books and travel guides. Every book looked as though it had been read at least twice.

Amazed that Hawkeye could possibly find the time to read all of these, Roy walked across the floor and stood staring at the bed, her bed, shut up brain. He tried reasoning with himself aloud, "It's a bed, she's not in it, I'm tired and it won't do anybody any good if I get no sleep at all." That helped a little, and he climbed in under the covers. The bed was soft, with high thread-count sheets and a down comforter. For somebody who was so experienced with rough conditions, Liza certainly had luxurious taste. He vaguely remembered her talking about a few "concessions to vanity" when she got her promotion, she might've mentioned her room as one of them. He couldn't really remember, but made a mental note to ask in the morning as he turned out the light.

Turning onto his right side, Roy caught a glimpse of gold out of the corner of his eye. He reached out and pulled the hair, fine as a silk thread, from beside the pillow. Cursing himself for a sentimental fool, he pulled his dogtags from beneath his shirt and wrapped the hair around the chain, knotting it securely at the ends. He stared at the wall for fifteen minutes and didn't notice when he fell asleep.

Sounds of movement coming from the main room woke Roy from a strange dream in which he was surrounded by fire that he couldn't control. It took a moment for him to remember where he was, but when his brain finally caught up with the night's events so far he sat up, yawning. The clock said 5:00, still an hour until Liza said she'd wake up. So why was somebody awake in the living room? Curiosity won out over the need for the extra hour of sleep, and Roy stood and made his way quietly down the hall.

The couch stood in the middle of the living room, facing away from Roy's current position. He could see the top of Liza's head and realized she was awake, listening to the news on the radio. He knew he should say something to alert her to his presence, but he didn't really want to. Instead, he leaned against the wall, watching her.

Hayate, still confined to the kitchen, noticed Roy's presence. He wuffed and wagged his tail, happy to see Roy up and about. Liza jumped, startled, and turned to face Roy.

"Hawkeye, you should really get some sleep…" Roy trailed off when he saw that Hawkeye's eyes were red-rimmed, as if from crying. "Is something wrong?"

Shaking her head, Liza turned off the radio. She couldn't let him find out she'd been crying. Besides, it had only been a stupid nightmare. "I'm fine, sir. I couldn't sleep, that's all."

Roy grinned and shook his head, "Shame, an officer lying to her superior," he teased. When that got him nothing but a raised eyebrow, he became serious. "Listen, Hawkeye, you know me well enough by now to know that I can tell when something's wrong. If it's anything that would affect your ability to perform your duties, I should know."

Liza couldn't help it, she started to laugh. It was the hysterical laughter of somebody pushed to the edge of reason. "Interfere with…with my duties!" She gasped, "S-sir, you have no idea!" Inside, she was screaming at herself, Get a grip, Hawkeye! What's wrong with you? Of course, she knew exactly what was wrong, and as she admitted it to herself the laughter turned into tears. She sank down on the couch, hiding her face in her pillow.

For a few minutes, Roy could do nothing but stare as his Lieutenant broke down. Finally, the shock of seeing the normally calm, collected Liza lose her self-control wore off, and he crossed the room to sit beside her on the couch. He laid a comforting hand on her shoulder, "Tell me what's wrong, Liza."

The pillow muffled Liza's reply, so that all Roy heard was, "…against the rules."

"What's against the rules?" He asked.

She raised her head and stared at the floor as she repeated, "Fraternization among officers in the military is against the rules."

The meaning of this statement hit Roy like a sledgehammer, stunning him more effectively than the bottle he'd been hit over the head with earlier. As such, all he could do was stare at Hawkeye as she looked up, searching his face for any sign that her feelings were reciprocated. Finding none, she smiled wryly. "You must be disgusted with me, sir. I don't blame you, of course. After all, it's unbecoming of an officer to allow herself to-!" The self-deprecating tirade Liza had been starting was cut short by Roy's passionate kiss.