Author's note: This was something I started writing when I should have been writing a paper for finals. Oops :P

Disclaimer: I do not own Fullmetal Alchemist or any of its characters

"And if you are to be my apprentice, I expect absolutely no funny business. This is serious work," came her father's muffled but stern voice through the door. Riza had heard her father and the boy enter the house and walk along the long corridors to his study. She did not know who the boy was. Her father had told her nothing in advance. But upon listening at her father's study, she discovered that this dark haired boy would become their houseguest, learning from her father. And to be frank, Riza did not like this. She frowned and waited for her father to continue. The boy was talking now but it was too quiet to hear. She pressed her ear up against the door. The voices stopped and the door swung open. Startled, she fell backwards from her crouched position.

"For goodness sake, Riza," her father scolded. Placing his hand under her arm he promptly pulled her up to face the boy.

"Riza, this is Roy Mustang. He's going to be my apprentice. I've set up a room for him in one of the guest rooms in the East wing. You will show him there after dinner." The boy stood in the doorway of the study. He was a bit taller than Riza, though not by much. His shaggy black hair hung just above his eyes. His expression was blank though his eyes held some sort of annoyance or perhaps contempt, Riza could not tell.

"Pleasure to meet you, Miss Hawkeye," Roy said, his voice monotone. Miss Hawkeye? Riza made a face of disgust.


Riza and her father had always eaten in silence but the quiet that hung between the three of them currently was much more tense. The two children sat across from each other and regarded one another with animosity. She glared at him as she pushed her peas around. His face remained as expressionless as before though his eyes still revealed some sort of negative feeling. Her father did not pay them any mind.

Once their food was finished, plates were cleared and cleaned. Her father went back to his study and Riza showed Roy to his room. As her father had said, his room was in the East wing of the manor, up the stairs above the kitchen. It made her happy that her room was on the opposite end of the house.

It was a simple room; beige walls, hardwood floors, a bed, a desk, a wardrobe, a bookcase with various alchemic books, and two windows facing the garden. Roy stepped inside the room and looked around.

"Thank you, Miss Hawkeye," he said dryly. She nodded in response and turned away to go to her room. Apprentice is what her father had said to him. Apprentice meant he would be here for a while. She hoped that time would fly by quickly, for she did not like Roy Mustang at all.


The days began to pass by painstakingly slow. Riza attempted to avoid Roy at all costs. If she saw him coming down the hallway she would duck into a room and wait until he passed. If she found him studying in the library she would quickly leave and find somewhere else to go. Meals were even more awkward and uncomfortable. She often found herself leaving the house altogether and spending her days outside reading, gardening, or anything else she found made time go faster. So soon the days turned to weeks and the weeks turned to months as a routine developed. Avoidance, silence, no acknowledgements.

One sunny afternoon she had been out in the garden. Weeds had begun sprouting around the blooming buds so she put herself to work and pulled them. Above her on the second floor of the house Roy's window was open. She could see the top of his head, presumably sitting at his desk reading. She didn't pay attention though. All of a sudden her father's booming voice interrupted the sounds of nature. He was in Roy's room, and he was furious. She looked up at the window. Her father was yelling but she could not make out the words, though she knew what was coming; she didn't even need to see him to know it. A moment more of yelling passed and, as she'd predicted, she heard the sharp sound of a slap. She felt bad for the boy – not bad enough to seek him out and comfort him – for she too had experienced her father's wrath and abuse. But what could she do; this was the way of her father. She turned her attention back to the garden.

A minute of two later, Roy emerged from the side door off of the kitchen, his hand clutching his cheek. Riza looked up and stared. Roy stared right back at her. She didn't know what to do; she did not like this boy, but he looked on the verge of tears. And lord knows she had wished that someone had been there to comfort her the first time her father hit her. So perhaps she could spare him a few kind gestures. She stood up and walked over to him. Roy's eyes never left her face. When she reached him she took his hand away from his cheek to get a good look at the damage. It had started to bruise a deep purple. It was also a bit swollen. She turned away and started in the direction of the hose. When she turned her head and saw that he wasn't following, she rolled her eyes and went back over to him.

"Come on," she said, grabbing his hand. She held onto it as they went around the corner of the house, letting go when they reached the tap. She twisted the knob and a slow stream of water began trickling out of the end of the hose.

"Bend over," Riza said. She put her hand on the back of his head and pushed down, perhaps a bit harder than she ought to. She pressed the hose to his cheek and let the water soothe him. They stood like this for what seemed like hours. When Roy stood up straight, she turned off the hose. It looked as if some of the swelling had gone down but his eyes were now red and puffy. She decided not to acknowledge it.

"Better?" she asked. He looked up at her, surprised that her tone was not as harsh as it usually was anytime they spoke (which of course was rare but whenever they did speak her words were like thousands of bee stings).

"Yes, a bit," he replied. Now she looked up at him with surprise, for his voice was neither dry nor monotonous like it usually was. Their eyes met briefly before flitting away in embarrassment; his to the hose, hers to the puddle that had accumulated on the ground. She poked at the water with her bare foot.

"It's not so bad, the beatings," she said nonchalantly. "You get used to them." Roy brought his eyes back to her face, his brows furrowing and overall expression growing bitter.

"He hits you?" His voice had lost its gratitude, replaced by coldness.

"Uh huh." She continued disturbing the water with her foot. He didn't know how to respond, so he focused his attention on the ripples in the puddle. Several minutes passed before Riza pulled her foot back, causing him to come out of his trance.

"Uh, so, thanks, Miss Hawkeye," Roy said awkwardly. Riza scrunched up her nose.

"Why do you call me that?" she asked, somewhat annoyed. He looked confused.

"Your father told me that I am to address you as such," he said. So formal, she mused.

"My name is Riza," she said defiantly. She stepped in the puddle to splash him and walk away, shoving into his shoulder slightly as she went. She headed back around the corner of the house and sat down once more in the garden. He remained where he was, stupefied and soaked. And then for the first time since he had arrived at the house, Roy Mustang laughed. Such a fascinatingly stubborn girl! He peaked around the corner of the house to look at her, a small smile on his face. Riza was sitting on her knees in the dirt pulling at the weeds that surrounded the flowers. Every part of her body and yellow sundress were covered in earth.

In the time that he'd been living in the Hawkeye household, Roy had not disliked Riza, but he hadn't liked her either. He had had no opinion about her really other than that she seemed to be a quiet and angry girl. But now he determined that there was the potential for the two of them to get along, to be friends even. He sauntered over to the edge of the garden and watched her for a few moments. Riza ignored him. But when he sat down next to her and began to assist in her weed pulling she whipped her head toward him. He gave her a simple smile and turned his attention back to the garden. She continued to stare at Roy.

Who did this boy think he was? First he invaded her home, disrupting the routine of awkwardness that already existed between Riza and her father. And now after months of ignoring one another here he was smiling at her. The audacity of this boy! She focused on the beads of sweat forming on his forehead, his bangs starting to stick. She moved down to his eyes – determined was how she read them. She thought back to only a few minutes before when she had admitted to being beaten often by her father. She could not deny she noticed the fire that briefly appeared on his face. Riza bit her lip. In mere moments she had begun to feel less hatred for Roy Mustang. Perhaps he could be someone in which to confide her feelings. Looking at him now and thinking of his recent actions she could see the potential for something great to happen. But for now she would let things slide – the potential, the comforting, the hatred even – and just pull weeds with the dark haired boy who had invaded her life but was suddenly seeming to have been placed there for a bigger reason.

So for the remainder of the afternoon, Riza Hawkeye and Roy Mustang stayed in the garden in content silence. Each had thoughts of the future on their mind, but brushed them away in order to hold onto this newfound, and perhaps brief, sense of satisfaction.

Thanks for reading! Let me know what you think if you feel so compelled.

More chapters to be coming!