Everything—and unlike most other uses of the term, she really meant everything—ached. Her skin felt raw, feverish, and sore. Whatever drug they had given her was wearing off, and her head was pounding, thumping to the beat of her heart as she tried to blink her vision clear long enough to realize her surroundings. The first thing she made out was a shock of dark hair, the head tilted forwards and apparently asleep. After a few moments of staring she realized it was Roy, his chin resting against his chest, squeezing his coat in both arms, mouth hanging open as he slept. A development that she hadn't been aware of, however, was that Maes Hughes sat beside him, the bespectacled man snoring with his head rested against the wall behind him.

They were sleeping—and she would've given near anything to be asleep as well, considering the way her mind couldn't formulate a complete sentence and her head was throbbing.

A knock at the door snapped her from her reverie, and she turned wearily, the pounding against her skull intensifying and then dissipating just slightly. There stood one very tired looking Doctor Bethune, a clipboard in his right hand. He was frowning, and the dark circles beneath his eyes convinced her that he probably had not gone home that night. What time was it, again?

"Good morning, Miss Hawkeye." He was quiet, because he too could see the two men sleeping on the opposite side of the room. Placing the clipboard on a small table, he slid his hands into the pockets of his lab coat and crossed over to her, the frown deepening. She became acutely aware that he was doing everything in his power to not meet her eyes.

"Doctor," she murmured, gingerly pressing the fingertips of her right hand against her temple, rubbing the vein slightly to ease the pressure. It did not help.

Bethune looked as though he had something to say. The grim countenance he carried with him was unsettling, and the way he peered at her over reading glasses only added to her concerns. "Is your head bothering you? I can get you something to take if that is the case."

Riza contemplated the offer, and then nodded graciously. She wasn't a fan of overmedication but she would take anything to cease the throbbing. "Before you go," she asked—mumbled, really. She stumbled over the words, hoping that it was just the effects of the medicine she'd been given the night before. "Any tests? Do you have any of them. Back, I mean. The results."

The doctor watched her sputter over the words, and frowned. He was so close to getting out of the room, hoping that perhaps he could tell her when Mister Mustang was awake as well, but no. No, she had asked, and he could not deny her the answer. "Perhaps you'd like Mister Mustang's support."

She winced. Wanting Roy's support was reasonable, but for Bethune to mention it meant that said test results were not ideal. She looked at the sleeping heads of Roy and Maes, moved to swing herself out of the bed and then froze when she felt the doctor's hand on her shoulder, stilling her. He helped her resituate herself and then walked over to the sleeping men himself.

"Mister Mustang," Bethune said quietly, arms crossed. Roy did not move. "Mister Mustang, if you would please wake up I have the results of the tests we ran last night." He grimaced. How was it that a military Colonel could sleep through someone directly addressing him? "Mister Mustang, wake up!"

"Huh? What?" Snapping awake, Roy slammed the back of his head against the wall as almost jumped out of the chair. Obsidian orbs tried to process who was standing in front of him. "Oh, Doctor Bethune." With one hand, Roy shook Maes awake. "Is everything all right?"

Bethune stepped away from the two men, watching the other with the glasses stretch and yawn, looking around the room. "As I said, I have the results of the tests we ran last night." He saw Roy involuntarily stiffen, the other man swallow tightly. Riza was unresponsive, her gaze slightly glossed over. "The infections will heal, and though you will need medicine for them they are not my greatest concern. The positive result on the pregnancy test—"

"What?"

Riza was suddenly paying attention. Her amber eyes darkened, trying to process the information. "Why did you...you never said anything about running…"

Roy swallowed, looking to the floor. "I asked him to."

The woman's head snapped to the side, and she visibly winced at the throbbing. "Why?"

Roy couldn't bring his gaze to meet her eyes, and shifted his weight uncomfortably like a child being scolded. Maes made the decision to pipe in, and he did so with expertise that could only be mastered by a man who had helped his wife through a very hormonal pregnancy. Gingerly he sidestepped the doctor and stood beside Riza's bed. "According to Roy, the doctor presumed—and rightfully, I'd suppose—that what those men did to you was not a one-time deal. Am I right?"

The sour grimace on her face contorted, the creases of her eyes tightening to where a small tear slid out. She did not answer.

"The doctor suggested it, and Roy agreed. He asked him to run the test."

It was quiet in the room for a few moments. Riza struggled with the information, and by then Roy had approached her as well, hesitant. She wasn't angry with him, he didn't think. Upset, most likely, but not angry. "I'm sorry, Riza."

Less than three hours later, all forms were filed and properly stored away, and Riza was released from the hospital. Her gait was a bit more even as she trudged down the way to Maes' car, who had offered to give them a ride. She was holding a small envelope with a photocopy of the results of each test they had run and a few information pamphlets about taking care of herself and the baby of whom she did not want to acknowledge.

Roy walked suspiciously close to her, his gaze trained on her face, every once and again resting his palm flat against the small of her back, guiding her footsteps. Maes sat in the front seat of the car, peering at the two of them as Roy made certain she was seated comfortably before choosing to sit himself. He sat beside her.

"Where to, Roy?" Maes' voice snapped the man from his momentary reverie, and Roy stopped to consider this. Where did they plan on going, exactly? She was in no condition to be staying by herself, particularly since doctor's orders indicated bed rest for a least another week.

"Riza?" Roy turned, waiting for the woman's response. Her gaze was fixated on the back of the seat in front of her, hands folded tightly in her lap. She did not respond to her name, instead continuing to stare absently. Roy wondered, with an uneasy turn of his stomach, what she was thinking about. A moment after wondering this, he decided that he was much better off not knowing.

"My apartment," he finally declared, shifting till he could meet Maes' eyes in the rearview mirror. He seemed to be nodding in slight approval of Roy's decision. Maes switched on the turn signal and moved into the far lane, prepared to make his way to Roy's apartment.

"C...can we pick up Black Hayate and a change of clothes first, please?"

Her voice sounded hesitant, and the fact that she even had a question to ask surprised them both as she had nothing to say just a few moments earlier when they tried to ask her a specific question. Roy nodded, gingerly pressing one hand against her knee. "Of course."

Maes was holding the small overnight back that she had packed as they walked up to Roy's apartment building; Riza insisted upon holding Black Hayate's leash herself. Hayate was on cloud nine, bouncing about his mommy, licking her shoes and yapping at her every once and again. Riza trudged along, Roy's hand still guiding her, taking each step slowly.

Going up the first flight of stairs was not an issue; though she was a bit winded at the first landing she continued upwards. The second flight of stairs was causing a problem—on the second landing she paused, tightly gripping the banister for her balance, slightly bent over as she tried to catch her breath. By the third floor, Roy was just glad his apartment was here because he was fairly certain someone would've been carrying her had they needed to go higher.

Hayate bounded around the corner, and Riza yanked on the leash to keep the dog in check. From the corner of his eye, Roy spotted a figure standing in front of his door, and paused. The military blue was immediately recognizable, and as the trio stopped at the corner, Second Lieutenant Jean Havoc turned, a manila envelope at hand.

"Hey Chief!"

Riza exchanged a quick glance with Roy, stood up a bit straighter and forced the grim look from her features. Roy started forward, leaving Riza and Maes to follow at their own pace. "Havoc. What are you doing here?"

"Been dropping off some of the more important work, sir." Jean waved the manila envelope and smiled haphazardly, the unlit cigarette dangling loosely from his mouth. "Lieutenant Hawkeye, I'm glad to see you're back in one piece."

If she was caught off guard by the protective nature of Jean's statement, it was nothing compared to her surprise when he thrust the envelope into Roy's hands and crossed over to her, the grin widening as he took the leash from her hands, offering her a mock salute. "We were worried sick. How are you?"

The blonde officer tried so hard to be lighthearted. He was a trained soldier and as a human being with eyes it would be difficult if not impossible to miss the bandages wrapped on her head, arm and hand, not to mention the white lines peeking up from beneath her sweater. Jean Havoc was making a particular point by not commenting on what he saw. "I'm all right, thank you," Riza mumbled quietly, reaching for Hayate's leash.

Jean smiled at her and ruffled her hair, the brotherly action not quite unlike him and yet more tactile than he ordinarily was. It was another silent sign of his concern for her. "Just take care of yourself, okay?" The smile dissipated and he crossed his arms, letting her take the leash from him. "We don't like it when you aren't around."

The genuine concern was touching, and Riza tightened her fingers around the leash, uncertain as to how to respond to him. True to his nature, Roy stepped between then, clapping a hand on Jean's back. "Thank you very much for dropping by, Havoc. I'll bring in these files tomorrow."

Again, the man made a particular point to pick up on what was not being said—get out—and raised a hand in salute, this time a proper one. "Sure thing." He trotted down the hallway, stopping at the corner and turning, "hey Chief, you better take good care of her, okay? We want a full report tomorrow when you come in!"

"Go home, Havoc!"

"I'm going, I'm going."

One of the doctor's most stringent orders was that Riza was to remain in bed for a week spare using the restroom and bathing. Riza had boldly argued the point as Roy first negotiated her into the guestroom, left her with the overnight bag to change, and went to see Maes out the door. When he returned, she was standing in the hall, arms crossed with a tail-wagging Black Hayate sitting beside her.

Finally settled, Roy thought the protesting would end here. Instead, Riza's argument only grew stronger and far more stubborn when he said he was going to cook her dinner and bring it in there for her to eat. Despite all of her protest, on this Roy did not waver, and so she found herself seated in pajamas and Roy's guest bed, staring at a small tray of soup with a biscuit and a glass of water, a small blue pill on the side.

"What's this?"

Her gaze landed on the pill, and Roy guiltily swallowed.

"Sleeping pill. He had asked how you had been sleeping at some point—don't remember when—and insisted that he prescribe something to help with the minor problem that you were spending most of your nights awake." Roy looked at his hands uncomfortably.

"I don't want to take any other medications. The antibiotic medications are plenty," Riza replied stubbornly, looking down into the broth of the chicken soup Roy had made for her. He had his bowl in his lap, and was stirring it slowly to keep his hands busy.

"It's not healthy to stay up all night."

Riza shook her head. "I don't want to be drugged into anything." She sounded tense, agitated, apprehensive. And she was certainly not planning on taking that pill.

"He said you need it. I have to agree with him. Last night you slept straight through without waking up—first time you've done that in a few weeks, right? You need to sleep, and if the medicine will help with that then there's no reason to refuse it."

Riza was shaking her head, "I am not taking it. I don't think it's particularly—"
"What about the baby, Riza?!"

The moment the comment tumbled from his mouth he regretted it. The look on her face darkened as though he had just slapped her, and she visibly tensed. Her uninjured right hand balled into a fist, and her gaze pointedly moved to the wall on the opposite side of the room. Immediately, Roy began to apologize. "I didn't mean it to sound like it did. Listen to me." Riza did not turn from where she was looking, and Roy hesitantly cupped her cheek. "Riza, please. I didn't mean for it to sound quite like that…"

The blonde winced slightly, and swallowed. Her gaze was particularly distant, her usually expressionless exterior reinforced by the gaunt appearance of her features. Through the thin skin he could see that her jaw was tightly clenched and her eyes were straining against something. Her lips contorted slowly into a somber frown, and she nodded. "You're right."

Though Riza's reaction was not what he was expecting, he couldn't deny that he was pleased with it. He hadn't liked the momentary look of panic in her eyes when he commented about the child, but he had remembered reading that a woman with child could get ill if the child miscarried during the pregnancy. It was preventable, in some ways—and he was desperate to keep the Riza he had retrieved from those two men as safe as he could. He might not be capable of undoing their damage, but he couldn't see how his broken second-in-command could handle another blow; he wanted nothing more than to prevent that from happening.

"The…baby hasn't done anything but exist, Roy," she mumbled, dipping the spoon on her tray into the soup. "Nothing more. Just…exist. I shouldn't—I can't—punish them for that."

Author's Notes: Another slightly short-ish chapter. I'm nearly done writing this now, I'm very excited. Please read and review.