A young man shivered and closed the door behind him hastily. His snow-caked boots were flung into the corner and his bag was tossed on the ground. He cupped his hands over his mouth and blew into them in an attempt to warm up his frozen extremities. It wasn't working. He dashed through the main corridor and into the living room. He sighed, obviously pleased, and plopped down on the floor in front of the fireplace. He held out his hands and closed his eyes blissfully. He sat for several minutes, allowing the flames to warm his body.
"Welcome back, Mr. Mustang." A woman's voice sounded from behind him. He listened to her pick up his boots and set them on a rug near the door.
"Thank you." He got to his feet and smiled at her. Her usual warm smile was no where to be seen. He looked at her curiously, but when he approached her, she shied away and turned into the kitchen. He followed her, much to her dislike.
"Something wrong?" He asked, scanning the room. "Is teacher alright?" He paused, walked out to gather his bag, and returned.
"No, he's fine." She muttered, opening a cupboard. She wouldn't look at him.
"Then what's wrong? Cold?" He continued trying to work something out in his mind. Riza Hawkeye wasn't one that was easily troubled. She may have a tendency to be quiet or stern, but she wouldn't hesitate to let you know if something was wrong. So why was she acting so odd? What could there possibly be that she wouldn't tell him?
"No, I'm fine." She grabbed a box of tea leaves. "Would you like something to drink?" She sounded so far away…
He pulled a chair out and shook his head. "No, thanks." She nodded and proceeded to make herself a cup of tea. Her eyes glanced around the room, never touching him, almost as if she was avoiding him. Her gaze lingered at the doorway before she turned to look out the window. Her hands trembled as she rested them on the edge of the counter.
He couldn't help but stare at her as he tried to process what was going on. The water reached it's boiling point and she added the tea leaves. She moved with an uncharacteristic lack of grace. With a steaming cup in her grasp, she headed towards the door. She stopped, only when he reached out to grab her sleeve.
"Riza, what's wrong?" He didn't use her name often, but he felt it was necessary. His eyes narrowed as he looked her over.
She tried to pull away weakly. "Nothing." She had no desire to reveal to him her perils.
"That's not true." Too bad, he wanted to know.
"Roy, please." She bowed her head, her bangs falling into her face and covering her eyes. Through her blonde locks, he swore he caught a glimpse of a tear.
He looked at her thoughtfully for a long moment before releasing her. She turned swiftly and walked away without so much as a thanks. He watched her leave critically.
After mulling over the possibilities for far too long, he stood and gathered his bag containing all the books his father had requested from the library. He sought out the stairs and begin his ascent. He heard a door shut, most likely hers. He shrugged off the feeling of foreboding she left him with, and rapped on her teacher's door. No answer. He knocked once again. "Sensei?"
A gruff voice growled from within. "Your lessons have been canceled for today. Go rest."
That was it? There was something wrong in the Hawkeye household, and he was desperate to know what. He gathered his books and turned down the hall towards the room he had been staying in for the past three years. In order to reach his room, he was forced to walk past her room. Of course he couldn't help but look. The door was open a crack, with just enough of an opening to glance in a see her laying on her bed, face down in a pillow. It looked like she was shaking. Why..? Something on the floor caught his attention.
One of her blouses lay in a heap on the floor. That was odd enough, she was a very clean woman. But it wasn't that, no, far from it. It was the fact that the entirety of her shirt was stained with blood. He covered his mouth the stifle a gasp and sped towards his room.
;~;~;~;~;~;
How naive he had been back then. He had never suspected anything. Sure, it was suspicious, but he never thought her father could have been so cruel to her while he was out of the house. He felt guilty, he should have been able to protect her from that fate. It was disgusting. The way he had mutilated her. Sure, he would never have found the secrets to flame alchemy, but he couldn't stand that it had happened to her.
The day, the glorious day that the war had ended, she had asked a favor of him. He didn't want to, obviously. But… He couldn't refuse. If there was anything she wanted, he would give it to her. Even if it meant sending her to the hospital for several weeks. He had told her the very day of her request, that he could hinder her way of life. Paralyze her. So many things could have gone wrong. She could have died.
But she was a fighter. Which was why she was laying in the hospital bed beside him, whimpering in her sleep. She was recovering, slowly, but she was beginning to heal. He still felt the same crushing guilt when she would open her eyes and look at him, high on pain killers and groggy from sleeping so much. When she would touch her back and fight back a screech of agony.
After that day, he had vowed he would never let something hurt her again. Maybe that was why he had requested her to be his aid when she recovered. Not because of their childhood bonds. Not because she was an excellent soldier. Not because she was willing to fight for his foolish dream. No, it was because he wanted to protect her, and hold her in his arms as she drew her dying breath. Because he knew, she would die on his behalf, just as he would for her.
AN: Yeah, I know. I had to end on a Royai note~
Just in case you were wondering, this takes place first when Roy was training under her father, then shortly after he had burned her back. Yes, she requested he do that to her. Also, there is some controversy over whether or not he carved it into her back or simply tatooed it. I, obviously, decidd on carving, merely because I think it's a tad more interesting.