"Well, this is where you'll sleep. My room is just across the hall and Elysia is down the hall just a few steps. Riza, she's so excited to have someone new to play with all the time now. I tried to explain to her that you're staying here because you're sick but you know how it is; she's three." Gracia beamed as she fluffed the pillows and tried to get Riza to get into bed. "Don't be so difficult, you aren't supposed to be on your feet."

"Gracia, I appreciate all this but it really isn't necessary." The blonde sharpshooter shuffled along as slowly as her sanity would permit—the doctor permitted walking only when necessary and only very slowly.

Gracia ignored the protest and strongly nudged Riza down into the bed. That done, she started sorting through the bag that Riza had brought, using her free hand to silence the woman whom she was certain would start protesting again soon. "Don't even open your mouth. Do you honestly think I'd leave you to stay at Roy's apartment? He's out all day at work—nobody will be there to make sure you stay in bed."

"Who said I wasn't going to stay in bed?" Immediately, Riza was on the defense. She crossed her arms over her chest and frowned. "I have every intention of following the doctor's orders. After what happened the other day, I wouldn't dare disobey."

The brunette could feel herself cringing slightly at the defensive tone of voice—Riza sounded far less like agreeing to stay in bed because the doctor told her to and far more like she was agreeing to stay in bed because for the child's safety. "Look," Gracia said gently, taking a seat next to her. "The doctor told you that what happened isn't your fault. Right?"

Riza nodded slowly. "Yes. But Gracia, I was so angry right before it happened…the stress, and yelling—that could have contributed to it and—"

"Placental abruption is a random event. There's no preventing it; it just happens." Gracia sighed, placing a hand on top of Riza's. "The baby is all right and you know what to watch for, what to pay attention to and what to do. You're as prepared as you can be, and you're trying your hardest. No matter how things end up you can always rest assured that you've done well by this child."

"Doing well does not mean anything, Gracia. Doing well by a child only means that I haven't killed them yet—but I've gotten pretty damned close!" Riza pulled hair from her face, amber eyes focused pointedly on the floor, folding her hands tightly in her lap.

Gracia sighed heavily, just slightly squeezing the blonde's hand. "I'm going to get you a cup of tea…do you want anything to eat?"

Downstairs and by the front door, Maes was trying to get a bothered Roy to either enter the building or exit: at the very least, he would like the raven-haired man out of his doorway. "If you're that worried about not being able to watch her—which, by the way, is just a little strange coming from you, Roy—then you can stay here. Riza's got the spare bedroom, and I'd offer it to you but she has been ordered to bed rest, not couch rest so you'd have to be a proper gentleman and allow her to have the bed."

Roy grumbled, slipping his hands into his pockets. "I just want to do whatever I can to help her. She's already miserable. She thinks that placental whatever-it-was-called is her fault even after the doctor's told her it's pretty much a random event and that nothing can prompt it or cause it. I just wish she'd allow herself to accept that."

Maes shrugged slightly, carefully nudging his friend in the door without making it obvious as he then closed and locked the door behind him. "Why don't you stay at least tonight? Just for your sanity's sake."

"The Colonel has been irritable," Breda grumbled crossly one morning. It had been an even two weeks since Hawkeye officially left the office on a decidedly early maternity leave. Unluckily for him, he had been the first to arrive the morning after the escapade and his reaction could be described as panicked. Now that Breda knew, specifically, what was going on, he just worried.

"Well he's sleeping on the Hughes' couch last I checked," Havoc replied, chewing on his cigarette. "He came in that first morning grumbling about said couch was very uncomfortable."

Fuery peered up from the files he was sorting—it was one of the jobs he had taken over for Hawkeye in her absence. "Mrs. Hughes insisted that Lieutenant Hawkeye stayed with her. Then I heard Colonel Mustang and Lieutenant Colonel Hughes talking about how Colonel Mustang was staying there. I think that he wanted to keep an eye on her himself."

"I'm not surprised. Have any of you even heard from Hawkeye? The Chief won't say anything on the matter and it's just strange not seeing her at least once a week." Havoc sighed, sinking into his chair. "We worry about her too."

"We know where she is—we could go visit during lunch," Falman put down the files he was holding and crossed his arms. "There is nothing against visiting a coworker and friend when they are ill."

"We can't just show up!" Fuery protested, though he was obviously interested in the idea. "Maybe we could bring something for her?"

"Great! You take care of that, Fuery, and we'll go check up on her this afternoon."

A group of four military officers in uniform standing at the front door of a Central home was not unheard of. However, the smallest of the four officers was gingerly cradling a bouquet of flowers, his nose wrinkled as one of the others knocked on the door.

"Can't someone hold these?" Fuery pleaded, turning his head to avoid the blooms. "I'm allergic to them." To solidify his point, he sneezed, sending a few petals flying and knocking his glasses askew. "Please."

"You're the one who got flowers!" Havoc replied, "why would you pick flowers that you're allergic to?"

Shuffling his feet, Fuery sighed. "I think she likes lilies. Somebody sends two lilies to her every Valentine's day and she always tries to keep them as long as she can so I thought she'd like them…"

Falman shot a pointed glare at Havoc and took the flowers from Fuery, who, now capable of breathing, took a deep breath. "That's very thoughtful of you. I'm certain she will like them."

Finally, the door opened and Gracia greeted them, tilting her head, obviously somewhat confused as to why four-fifths of Hawkeye's office was at her front door. "Oh, hello everyone….is everything all right?"

Breda nodded. "Yes ma'am. We just came by to see how Lieutenant Hawkeye was feeling." The stout man nodded slightly.

"We brought her flowers!" Fuery chimed. "Is she okay to have visitors?"

Gracia laughed softly, beaming. "Okay to have visitors? Elysia has been driving her up the wall. I'm sure she'll be happy to have some company that doesn't want her to color or read her a book. Come on in." Stepping aside, Gracia left space for all of them to enter, clicking her tongue when Breda entered and did not wipe his feet. "Her room is upstairs, second door to the right. Should be opened—and tell Elysia that I need her to come down if she doesn't leave of her own accord."

It was fairly easy to figure out where Hawkeye was without Gracia's directions—Elysia could be heard singing from down the hallway. Havoc unconsciously lead the way, quickly knocking on the open door. "Afternoon, Lieutenant."

Hawkeye was in pajamas, hair down and reading a book. Peering up tiredly, she seemed surprised at the sudden guests as she closed her book and tugged on a sweater. "Hello. What brings you all here?"

There was something strange about seeing Hawkeye in her pajamas and in bed—whether they were long sleeved and more than modest or not. Havoc shrugged nonchalantly. "Nothing major. We just wanted to see how you were feeling. Mustang hasn't said anything, and we figured visiting would be okay."

Fuery smiled sheepishly as Falman offered her the flowers. From the corner of his eye, he saw Elysia leaving the room. "We brought flowers, I hope that's all right. I always thought they were a good get-well present."

The blonde cracked a small smile, taking the bunch of flowers and smelling them. "Thank you. How did you know I liked lilies?" The question was rhetorical; a moment later she had carefully set the flowers aside. "I'm feeling all right, thank you, though I'm already getting tired of being bedridden."

Falman nodded sagely, sliding a hand into his pocket. "Well, it's a nice forced vacation, and if anyone needed a break it was you." Breda nodded in enthusiastic agreement.

"Is Mrs. Hughes taking good care of you? If she isn't I'm sure I can remedy that," Havoc added warningly.

"She's been very kind, letting me stay here," Hawkeye replied quickly, careful to make the statement clear. In all of his kindness, Havoc was like a slightly overprotective older brother and it was in both his and Gracia's best interest that he not get upset about the 'standard of care' in the Hughes' home. Looking over the four men standing nervously by the doorway, she sighed. "And even kinder by helping me." Hawkeye had already noticed that they seemed slightly uncomfortable, and tried to offer a reassuring smile. "How is everything in the office? Roy refuses to say anything about it on the pretense that I am supposed to be resting."

The way Hawkeye calmly used her commanding officer's first name surprised them—and made Havoc smile. "Things are fine but he's right, you know. You are supposed to be resting. That is the definition of bed rest, last I checked, Riza."

Breda watched the exchange carefully, bracing himself for a shouting match and surprised to see that the use of first names as acceptable. The redheaded man found it hard to follow—for as long as he could remember, Hawkeye distanced herself through the use of professional titles. First names had always been off limits in everything but the most dire of circumstances. It was with this thought that he realized that he couldn't recall ever even seeing her outside of the office.

The five of them chatted amicably for nearly a half hour before Falman glanced at his watch and pointed out that it was nearly 1300 hours and they would soon be expected back at work—and if they did not leave then, they would be late.

"We've got to run, sorry," Falman muttered. Unlike Havoc, the other three men refused to use first names, likely for fear of being shot.

"Please feel better," Fuery said quietly. "If you need help with Black Hayate just let me know."

"Can't wait to have you back, maybe Mustang will get some work done—and be less irritable," Breda added.

"Take care of yourself," Havoc ordered as he peered directly at her, his gaze stern. Leaning into her space, he quickly squeezed her shoulder, trying to relieve the slightly look of concern from her features. "Oh…and don't tell Mustang we came, okay? Knowing him, he'd be jealous."

Author's Notes: School is getting crazy--I spent hours today doing work so yeah...expect less frequent updates. Sorry guys!! I WILL finish this though--it's almost done now.