Transmutations
It was strange to say, but really, when it came down to it, every time she thought about it, Riza found that every important lesson she'd learned in life, alchemy had a hand in.
The first had always been the hardest: you can't bring back the dead. Young as she'd been when her mother died, she'd begged her father to bring his wife back. He'd refused, even in his grief, telling her that there were some things that, when broken, could never be fixed.
And then he'd thrown himself into his research, often hardly appearing to remember he even had a daughter. Still, there were moments when they'd share a glance, or exchange only a couple words, and she would be able to take comfort that her father, no matter how absent, wasn't gone entirely.
The students started coming in droves, many of them deciding the proper tack was to in some way (whether by befriending, flirting, or threatening) use Riza to get to her father. By the time she was thirteen, only the ones who ignored her entirely made second attempts to become her father's student.
It was a small mercy that he didn't have to use needles, but why? Why like this? Riza's fists clenched as her father's hands, so cold, rested on her back.
With the pigmentation of her skin altered permanently, Riza learned several lessons at once:
Children bear the sins of the father.
She was a means to an end.
Placing trust in the wrong person could be deadly.
She wasn't ready to make these decisions; the ones that couldn't be taken back.
But she had.
Trust yourself.
The young man who had somehow managed to become her father's student had really been the one to teach her that.
It had been one of the harder lessons to learn. She'd always relied on herself when it came to survival; she'd never have survived as long as she had if she hadn't been capable of caring for herself.
What Roy had meant, however, was that she would be able to make the right decisions even when they involved other people.
As soon as he was aware that she was going to reveal the secret of Flame Alchemy, he'd immediately asked, "Are you sure?"
She'd looked him straight in the eye and, without any amusement or irony in her tone, told him, "Trust me; I do."
Another lesson, perhaps actually the hardest (it certainly felt like it), was that, no matter who you trusted, no matter how right it felt, things could still go horribly wrong.
And go wrong they did.
So much blood, death… injustice.
So helpless.
So wrong.
How could alchemy be used like this?
No—that wasn't the right question.
How could he do this? How did she ever think she could have trusted him?
How come she couldn't hate him for it?
You can't predict the future, no matter how hard you try.
It was unfair, even downright cruel.
Life so often is.
He hadn't been the one to make the choice—those things had made it for him—but he'd paid for it.
Still, they couldn't give up, not now. They could still fight, and fight they would.
Never give up.
She wandered through the office, not touching anything.
A set of arms wrapped around her waist, a chin came to rest on her shoulder. She could feel his heartbeat, even through both their uniforms—the heart she'd supported and protected all these years, just as he'd done for her.
It was all so surreal; she'd always hoped, worked as hard as she could, and now that she was here… Her work still wasn't done, she knew, but, perhaps just for a moment, it was all right to take a rest.
Because sometimes, whether you deserve it or not (she still wasn't sure—never would be), you really do get a happy ending.
A/N: Yeah, had to sneak a little bit of Royai in there, but it's fairly Riza-centric, no?
About the pigmentation altering: I've found it convenient to operate under the assumption that Riza's dad was no tattoo artist, and there's no way in hell he'd trust ANYONE but his own daughter with the secret of Flame Alchemy, but he might have been able to work out a way to alter Riza's skin pigmentation, kind of like how medical alchemy works