A/N: Here's another switcheroo, this time with Roze and Riza. It's interesting how much of Riza's character is defined by Roy, so she may appear OOC. Please, no comments about the spelling of Roze – it's my favourite spelling, and z isn't used enough D:

I know Riza had the secret to Roy's flame alchemy on her back, but it makes it too complicated with that in place. So Roy just had it taught to him directly. Good? Good.

Surveying the remains of her birthplace, Roze Thomas couldn't stop a lump from appearing in her throat. She'd left and sworn never to return at the tender age of twelve, and now, ten years later, she could barely recognize it.

The statues of the cult that had sprung up in her absence had toppled and broken into pieces. Blood stained the ground, and corpses of people she'd grown up with lay mangled by gunfire.

"Roze." She started as her superior, Roy Mustang, laid a hand on her shoulder. "How are you?"

"I'm fine, sir."

"Roze…"

She kept her face impassive, though a tear betrayed her. "I was warned what to expect."

"Look for any survivors of Hakuro's mess." Roy's hatred was apparent. Hakuro was one of the men Roy held personally responsible for the Lior massacre, and Roze held no love for him either.

"Y-Yes, sir."

"Havoc! Help out Thomas." Roze winced as she always did when her last name was used. It had led to the common misconception that she was a man. It didn't help with her ambition to make women more accepted in the military.

Havoc, a tall, lanky blond with a cigarette always dangling from his lips, took Roy's place as Roze stepped out onto the cobbled streets. As she passed each of the bodies, her self-conscious insisted on identifying each corpse, even if their face was torn apart almost past recognition.

There's Drew, the butcher from the square, and look, there's Raymond the tailor. He always called me his prettiest customer. That's Karina, the deaf-mute who lived with Johann and Julia Black.

The list of names went on and on, until Roze thought she might just collapse and weep at the needless loss of lives. What stopped her was the glimpse of gold from where a fallen statue rested on top of a pile of rubble from a building. It was an incongruous colour in this world of blood and dust.

Even more incongruous was that it moved once she looked at it.

"Havoc," she pointed her chin slightly towards where she'd seen it, "over there."

He nodded, and made as if to move, but Roze laid a hand on his arm. "I'll do it. I know these people."

"But –"

"No buts. Stay here. That's an order."

He subsided into grumpy silence, wisps of smoke rising from his cigarette. Roze turned and slowly advanced.

At first she could see nothing living. Then, a quietly hateful voice murmured, "Don't move, military scum."

Roze risked it, and turned her head an inch until she could see. A gun was being held to her head. The wielder was clad in clothes that were torn and dusty, so baggy that it was hard to determine the gender at first. He – she? – had long, light blonde hair and blue eyes, which made the fairer sex more likely. She looked to be about fifteen, although with a look of hate that didn't belong on the face of a child.

"I –"

"Don't talk!" The safety clicked off warningly.

Carefully, slowly, Roze brought her finger to the barrel of the gun and pushed it downward. "I'm not going to hurt you."

"That's what they said. The other men who came."

"Well, I'm not a man, and I mean it. Put the gun down…please."

The girl suspiciously lowered the gun, but did not put it down. "What do you want?"

"To help you."

"And in return?"

"Why should I want anything in return?"

"Because that's how the world works."

Roze shrugged. "True, most of the time. But let me help you. A child like you shouldn't be here."

"This is my home."

"It used to be my home too."

"It did?"

Roze smiled. "My name's Roze Thomas. I used to live in Lior, but I left when I was twelve. Looking to find my fortune."

"I'm Riza Hawkeye."

"Good. Now that we've made introductions, please can you put the gun down?" Roze had a pleading note in her voice she didn't attempt to conceal. "I really don't like guns."

"You're in the military."

"Doesn't mean I like guns."

Riza chuckled halfheartedly, and laid the gun carefully on the ground. "You want to help me?"

"Yes, I do. Where are your parents?"

Her blue eyes darkened in sorrow. "Dead."

"I'm sorry. I lost my parents too, when I was even younger than you. Is there anyone left in the city? – other than you, that is."

"There are some children in the church. I was taking care of them, but I came out here to see if I could find some food."

Roze nodded. "Alright. Tell you what, we'll get you some food and water and some proper clothes, and Havoc and Fuery will get the children out from the church. How many are there?"

"Two girls, three boys. Bethany's the youngest at four, Eva, Josef, Alistair and the oldest is David. He's eleven." Roze didn't miss the pride in the young woman's voice, almost as if she was talking about her own children.

"Let's go." Riza bent down and stuck her gun in a makeshift holster. In answer to Roze's questioning glance, she answered, "It was my father's. I don't want to leave it behind."

The dark-skinned woman took Riza's hand and led her out into the open. Havoc, seeing Roze's unmistakable pink bangs, lowered his gun. "Who is she?"

"Riza Hawkeye." Riza offered her hand, and Havoc shook it vigorously.

"Good to see some life in this hell. Jean Havoc at your service."

OoOoOoOoOoOoO

"Alright, take off your clothes."

Riza hesitated. "A-are you sure? I mean, maybe I could do this in priv-"

Roze didn't let her finish. "I need to make sure any wounds you have are treated properly and don't get infected."

"I know how to treat my own wounds," she snapped.

"Treat, yes. Reach…probably not."

Riza sighed, and pulled her raggedy grey shirt over her head. Roze stared, new pity welling up in her heart.

Riza Hawkeye was roughly three months pregnant, only a slight swell giving it away. But it was still painfully obvious to any woman.

"Who…"

"The other men who came," answered Riza bitterly. "What they did to me was worse than death, and now there's no way I can ever forget."

"I…"

"Don't bother with pity. It happened, and now I have this…thing…inside of me, and there's no way to get rid of it."

"Motherhood can be a great gift, no matter who the father is. I noticed how you spoke of the other children."

"I suppose. It doesn't make it easier to bear."

Roze said nothing more, just dipped her cloth into water and signaled Riza to turn around. Riza did so, revealing several deep scratches and some nasty burns, but nothing worse than that. As she gently cleaned them out, she noticed how her dark skin contrasted against the fair (under the dirt) skin of the girl half-naked in front of her.

"You don't look eastern."

"I'm not. My family moved here eight years ago so my father could conduct his experiments in peace from the military. He was an alchemist, you know…"

"Colonel Mustang is an alchemist as well, the Flame Alchemist."

Riza smiled. "I'd like to meet him."

"You probably will – he's my direct superior, and he's actually in charge of cleaning up Lior. I just obey his orders."

"What's he like?"

Roze chuckled. "Hates doing paperwork, which means I end up doing most of it."

"I would just hold a gun to his head until he did it."

"I should try that," she laughed. "He's come to work drunk only once, hung over twice. I remember the first time was when he insisted he couldn't do his paperwork because he couldn't see straight. He's a player – he fills up his calendar with dates, and he's never lacking in girls who want to date him. Poor Havoc's girlfriends keep getting stolen."

"Wow. He doesn't sound very nice."

"Oh no, he's a wonderful man, and he has a healthy respect for women. He never leads them into thinking there'll be a long term relationship."

"It sounds like you might have a bit of a crush on him," teased Riza.

"Me? Crushing on my superior? No, no, and besides, there are the frat laws."

Riza turned to face her and raised an eyebrow.

"Fine. Maybe. Possibly. Yes."

"I knew it. Does he know?"

"Most likely, I'm not a very good actor."

They continued in silence for a bit longer, when Riza murmured, "Thank you."

"For what?"

"For…being so kind to me." Tears welled up in the teen's eyes. "I've had to be responsible for so long…thank you so much." She hugged Roze warmly, and Roze hugged back. "I don't know how I can repay you."

This girl who reminded her so much of herself, battered, bruised and scarred from a massacre no one should have to endure…She knew what to say.

"How can you repay me? You have legs. Keep walking forward."

A/N: ^^ wow, these switcheroos are fun! I've always liked Roze's character – from what little you see of her, she has a lot of faith (which is not always a good thing); she is relatively quiet, doesn't like to cause trouble and is generally friendly and helpful. So few people realize that when she is being controlled by Dante, that's NOT her character. And believing in Cornello's lies isn't being gullible – it's being hopeful.

Anyhow, hope you enjoyed this! Anybody missing Winry, don't worry, I have an idea for her (mwahahahahahahahahaha…)