The first thing Roy Mustang was aware of was the agonizing headache he had. Then he moved his legs and felt the agonizing pain in his chest. He opened his eyes and then closed them immediately. God that light hurt like hell. He squeezed his eyes shut, then carefully opened them again. He could see so much white. A white ceiling, white walls, white through the windows from the sun. And then there was blonde.

He looked down to the side of his bed where she was laying with her head in her arms on top of his bed. The chair she was sitting in looked hard and uncomfortable. Her uniform was un-ironed—so rare for her—and her hair was falling out of its clip. Her face was hidden in her arms.

Roy could hear her breathing, slow and paced. She was asleep.

He tried to sit up gently. Her head snapped up, "Colonel!"

Riza's eyes were hollow from her lack of sleep. And they were red, from what he would have said was crying, but he couldn't bring himself to believe that. He'd only seen her cry but once in all the years he'd known her.

"Lieutenant" Roy said, feeling his numb throat come back to life, "How long has it been?"

"Nearly eight days, sir" she said, sitting upright in her chair.

"And you've been here that whole time?" Mustang asked. He knew that she was loyal, but eight days of sitting in a chair, watching him sleep…

"Not the whole time, sir."

"Are you alright?" he asked.

"Just a scratch" she said, her left hand moving slightly to her right arm. He could see that she was holding it stiff. As though not to move it too much. There was a sling in the chair next to her.

"You took a bullet for me," Roy said. It wasn't in the form of a question. It was a statement.

"Just a nick, sir. Obviously it didn't do much." Riza stood and pulled the chair back to its place against the wall and grabbed the sling.

"I think it would have been a lot worse if you hadn't been there, Hawkeye" he said as she walked to the door.

She stopped, "It could always be worse. Now that you're moving around. I think I need to get to work on some paperwork."

"Lieutenant" he said to the almost closed door.

It opened again, "Sir?"

"Thank you"

She nodded.

Roy sat in his hospital room. He was staring at the papers that Hawkeye had left on his food tray. He didn't even want to eat the food that lay beside the hated stack. That would be acknowledging that he knew it was there. His subordinate was always work, work, work. She hadn't even come in to actually talk to him ever since he had woken up. Every day she would bring in a stack during her lunch break which she expected to be finished by the time she came back the next day.

He kept coming across forms that had already been signed, but dated when he had been unconscious. He asked her about it the next day when she came in, still holding a stack of paper with her left hand.

She said, "The papers were piling up. We've been together for years and I've been forging your signature just as long, sir."

He stared at her as she thunked more papers on his food tray.

"Are these done, Colonel?" she asked, pointing at the stack she had brought yesterday. He nodded, feeling kind of dazed. He had never known that. It surprised him to no end that she was willing to actually forge his signature.

"Really? Sir, you're more efficient in the hospital than you are at work."

Roy could barely see the spark of a smile as she turned away. "Did you just smile, Lieutenant?" Roy asked, a famous smirk crossing his face, "That's very rare for you."

He'd never seen her blush until that day, "Sir, you should get to work," she said coldly, walking out the door.

"Fuery told me you cried again!" Roy yelled.

He was answered by a slammed door.