The next Saturday, Roy decided to go to the same café he had last week.

For no reason.

None.

He had set an alarm, certain that he wouldn't be waking up at nine. A few friends from high school had visited the night before, and they had gotten into some of the bar's stock- his mother hadn't been pleased. The light, again, shone through the cracks in the blinds. He cursed.

Alchemy notes, clothes, and other miscellaneous items littered the floor and proved to be a hindrance when staggering to the door. He nearly slipped when turning the doorknob, and again when he went down the stairs. It hurt to keep his eyes open, so Roy tried to keep one hand on the wall to keep himself steady as he made his way to the kitchen. He shouldn't make a habit of waking up this early on weekends.

Chris was already settled at the counter and was smoking over the morning paper. She passed over headlines about tensions with Ishval as Roy fumbled to make a glass of water. "Mornin', sunshine." She turned to the obituaries and looked to see if anyone she knew was featured.

Roy mumbled a halfhearted good morning and groped through the medicine cabinet for aspirin.

"Any reason you had an alarm set for nine, Roy Boy?"

Hunched over the sink, Roy tapped out three pills and washed them down. "Nah."

"You slept right through it, you know. That damn thing is so loud."

Roy set the glass down and screwed the top of the aspirin bottle back on, back still turned to her. He rubbed one of his eyes. "What?"

"I reset it for ten, after the night you had. When did you get to sleep? Three? Four?"

The color drained from his face. "It's ten?"

Chris exhaled a thick line of smoke through the corner of her mouth. "What? Had plans?" With a quick snap of her wrists, she straightened out the paper and resumed reading. "Next time, don't drink my income."

"It's ten?"

"Y'know, it serves you right-"

Ignoring the rest of her sentence, Roy ran upstairs and grabbed whatever set of shirt and pants looked relatively clean and threw them on. He grabbed the book on firearms he'd put away a few nights ago, and sprinted through the door, half zipped and half buttoned.

Chris shook her head and tapped the ashes off the end of her cigarette.

Roy had fixed most of the buttons on his shirt by the time he got to the town square. He hadn't even looked in the mirror. The sun shone brightly. It had taken him just over five minutes to run the mile from his house to the square. If only his high school track team could see him now.

He slowed to a tired stroll and felt heat from the run on his cheeks. It was a hot day, but a windy one, and the breeze calmed the flush on his face. His mouth was dry and he ran his tongue around in his mouth to wet it again. As usual, throngs of people packed the square and swelled and surged around him while he stood, fidgeting and sweaty and dry-mouthed. There were always too many people and he usually liked it that way. He fed off having an audience- he liked to be seen and feel the energy of people moving though their own lives as they walked past him. Some were too busy to pay him mind and some smiled or nodded or said good morning. Some were not busy but did not greet him. It didn't matter what they did. He liked the range in reactions. Roy coughed into his sleeve and walked forward.

There were nearly one hundred steps up to the library, and they looked much more imposing than the last time he had been there. For the first few steps his legs quivered, but he regained his normal stride after a minute or so. On the second platform, he sat down to catch his breath.

"Do you run everywhere?"

"What?"

Her book was propped on her knees. Her legs were straight and together, perfectly parallel to the step beneath her. Were it not for the slight lean in her back to cast shade on the pages, her form would have been perfect. "You're always running somewhere."

Roy looked at her and she turned a page of her book and did not look at him. He let out a stream of air that was half exhaustion and half a sigh. "Hi."

Riza closed her book and propped her elbow on her knee and her face in her hand. She was almost smiling. "Hi."

Suddenly he was again aware of the ache in his legs and though it hurt it didn't bother him. He looked out over the square and Riza stacked her books into a pile.

"So," he asked, "how long have you been here?"

"I got to the library at about eight." She set her books on her lap and tucked them up into her stomach as she drew her knees up. "I've been sitting out here reading since about nine."

He smiled in a smug, lopsided way and watched people ascend the steps below. "Any reason?"

"Any reason why what?"

"You've been reading out here for an hour."

He looked to her expectantly but she was looking away now. Her eyebrows were raised and he was certain that even if she wasn't looking at him and she was several inches shorter than him she was looking down on him, if only figuratively, and if only to tease him. "It is a very nice day. Is there any reason you ran here?"

"No."

She did not look convinced. "Hm."

"How tantalizing is your reading?" Roy realized that his socks didn't match. His pants mostly covered them, though, so it didn't much matter. One was black and the other was white. The white one had a hole in the heel, but with his shoes on you couldn't tell.

"Why do you ask?"

"I was wondering if you might want to come get coffee with me?"

She didn't move, but her eyes wandered over to where he was. The heat outside was starting to bother him. His shirt was cotton and was cool enough but he had worn pants that were better for colder weather and he was starting to stick to them. She blinked and his smile wavered a bit. She seemed to like his discomfort. "Okay."

"The same place as last time?"

"Yes." Riza straightened her legs and stood in a fluid way that made her dress fall into a neat line. It was a soft cream color and covered in purple pansies that were twisted in little green vines.

Roy pulled himself up with assistance from the handrail. The ache in his legs had calmed down, but he wouldn't be exercising later that day. He picked up the book he had brought and handed it to her.

"I thought you might like this."

Riza scanned the cover and turned it over to read the back jacket. Her eyes shone as they flickered across the brief description of its contents. "Thank you. This will be very helpful."

'Helpful' was an odd way to describe a collection of weapon diagrams, but if you read enough mentions of sizes and parts of specific firearms, than it might be a handy reference, he supposed. Roy had never really bothered to look up any parts that were mentioned in passing. "So, um-"

Riza looked up at him and remembered that they were supposed to be going somewhere. "Oh. Right." She set the book atop the rest in her pile.

"Want me to carry those?" He had a feeling he would be asking that question a lot.

She held back a smile and walked past him in the direction of the café. "No, but thank you, Mr. Mustang."

He considered correcting her again, but changed his mind. "Very well, Ms. Hawkeye."

Roy was less self-conscious this time and bought a latte with extra foam, two burgers and a sundae. Riza got a black coffee again.

The walk over was mostly quiet but it wasn't uncomfortable. He had asked about her books and she told him the titles. They sounded very similar to the ones she had last time. He wondered how quickly she read them (they were dense) and how soon the library would be depleted.

"You've been leaving for school earlier than usual." He had let the ice cream in his sundae melt and drank it through a straw. There were still thick chunks that had stayed cold so the process was continuously interrupted by loud slurping noises.

"No, I haven't."

"Your father said you had a school project."

"When he asks that's what I tell him."

He wasn't sure if she was lying or if he really hadn't noticed how early she left. "Why do you leave so early?"

"That," she said, stirring her coffee to disturb the grounds that had settled to the bottom of the cup, "is none of your business."

He looked at her for a very long moment as he chewed his fries. There wasn't any way he could think of to answer that. Roy got the sense that Riza had a lot of secrets. "Are you actually going to school?"

Her face twitched into a smile but she kept her gaze on the table. "Mostly."

Roy dipped his fries in ketchup. "A rebel."

"I'm always at school on time."

He laughed. "Only so much of a rebel."

Riza stole a fry off his plate. "Rebellious enough."

"Can you give me a hint?"

"I'll think about it."

She changed the subject to something about troubles along the border and for the rest of the afternoon they were occupied between current events, complaints about the weather, local gossip, and whatever came to mind. Between topics there was sometimes a period of silence that was more because nothing needed to be said than a lack of things to talk about. Sometimes he would just look at the pansies in her dress or wonder why her eyelashes were so dark when she had blonde hair.

When it came time to pay Roy realized that in his morning frenzy he had forgotten to bring his wallet. He cursed and apologized and Riza laughed at him and paid. She insisted that since he paid last time it was only fair, and that she did not mind. He promised to pay her back but she did not reassure him that it was fine because she had no intention of letting him pay for her again. Riza did not like being in debt to people.

She was, however, very satisfied to hear confirmation that he had rushed over to the library.

They left earlier this time (Roy did not want to face his aunt's wrath a second time) and Riza told him that she should also be getting home by four. He offered to go with her but she thanked him and declined. Riza pulled out a check-out log from one of the books and ripped off the bottom half and wrote something down on it and handed it to him.

Haderline's Automail, 360 Commonwealth St., four 6-48 screws.

"What's this?"

"That," she said, "is for my project. Tell Mr. Haderline it's for me. He will give them to you for free. Please leave them under the welcome mat inside the house sometime in the next week."

Roy raised an eyebrow. "Is this a test?"

She didn't flinch. "Yes."

Roy laughed and she smiled a little. "Am I becoming an accomplice?"

Riza shrugged. "You could say that."

They said their goodbyes and Riza had half-turned away before she paused. "Mr. Mustang?"

Roy put the note in his pocket. "Yes?"

"I think I will read in the park next week. There is an oak tree near the center left half that gives very nice shade and the roots don't poke out."

He got the hint. "I'll keep that in mind."

Master Hawkeye sat in the shade at the back of the house while Roy stood over a large black cloth on the grassy hill that served as the backyard.

"Now," the Master called in a feeble voice from the house, "make me a fire."

Roy hated that he wasn't even allowed to learn the most essential part of any alchemic sequence. Any time he worked with actual fire (which was rare enough) the transmutation circle was always covered up. Master Hawkeye had drawn it in the dirt beneath the grass, so he doubted that he would be able to see it anyhow. Roy didn't know if it affected the reaction or not, but it annoyed him to no end.

He tried to clear his mind and inhaled slowly. The early summer heat caught at his collar and his forehead. The air was heavy and wet. These were not ideal conditions. He placed his palms at the edge of the cloth.

Focus. He had to focus.

He pressed his hands deeper into the earth and tried to get a sense of the air content above the circle. The humidity was probably 60%, and even though there was a significant amount of oxygen in the water there would have to be another transmutation to separate it from the hydrogen (in which case, the air could set the sky entirely ablaze with the extra elements) but neither he nor, to his knowledge, the Master, had developed a way to do that. But the standard amount of oxygen in the air was 21%...

His arms were shaking from the pressure. He grit his teeth. If the energy buildup was what he assumed it would be, it should work.

He took out the lighter from his pocket and turned the spark wheel.

Instantly, the fire engulfed the air above him, stinging his eyes and singing his throat. Sparks flew onto his cheeks and seared his nose and scorched parts of his shirt and it swallowed him whole and then it was gone.

Roy coughed black smoke. The cloth and the grass underneath were dotted with little burnt holes that still held the bright red color of flame as if they were slapped skin. He looked back at Master Hawkeye. The man rubbed his chin but said nothing and went back inside.

Roy looked at the black tarp and wanted more than anything to find out what was underneath.

He stood and brushed the dirt and ashes off of his pants and walked back towards the house. Riza was looking out from her window. Roy wanted to wave but knew he shouldn't so he smiled and nodded up at her instead. She drew the curtains.

Riza had brought money the past weekend partially expecting to pay for lunch but mostly because she had to do grocery shopping sometime that week. Because her father didn't work, they didn't have very much money at their disposal. She had been planning to buy a new dress with the money she had used for lunch but she considered the purchase a very good investment and didn't dwell on it. She didn't find time to go shopping until that Wednesday.

She wasn't a very picky eater and her father didn't eat much at all so the list was short. There was about one thousand cenz left. Riza bought flour, eggs, butter, milk, and a can of beans. With what she bought she could make herself bread for eggs and toast and for dinner she would heat up the beans to have with the eggs and toast. She was grateful that she only had to cook for her father when he asked for it now. It had been a while since she had given up making meals for him.

Riza set the groceries on the counter and looked at the kitchen. She should clean it some time. It was put to use daily, but like everything else in the house, a thin film of dust covered most of the surfaces and it felt dead. Everything but the beans and the flour she put in the fridge. The rest stayed on the counter. Riza walked upstairs and put her books on her bed and started reading while she waited to be called. On Saturday he hadn't had anything and she had been waiting for the past few days for him to request her presence. She liked it better when he stuck to the schedule.

Her father didn't call at five or six and at seven Riza made dinner for herself and did her homework in the kitchen. At seven thirty she finished and she waited in her room a bit longer and at eight she went to the study and knocked on the door.

There was no response, but she didn't expect one. She pushed open the door and walked over to the man who was writing in a corner.

"There is nothing today," he said, eyes fixed on his writing.

"Oh."

Master Hawkeye stopped writing but did not set down his pen. He resumed after a second. "You saw Mr. Mustang today." It was not a question and Riza knew what he meant.

"Yes." The curtains were tightly drawn and the only light in the room came from the gas lamp that was set on the corner of the page the Master wrote on. It cast eerie red shadows around the room that reminded her of an allegory she read that compared seeking knowledge to interpreting shadows on a wall. It was very apt.

"Did you make any conclusions?"

Riza considered how to answer. "I think," she said, "he needs to work harder." This was neither an entirely truthful or comprehensive conclusion but it would satisfy him.

Master Hawkeye nodded.

With that, she was dismissed. As she left the room, Riza watched the shadow of her father's back bounce and flicker on the wall behind him. It was grotesque.

That Wednesday Roy stopped into Haderline's. It was in the commercial side of a more industrial district in East City so he wasn't really sure where he was going.

The shop was closed. A gruff man with a thick dark beard was sweeping inside. Roy knocked on the window.

"Excuse me?"

The man turned so his back was facing him.

"Sir?"

Through the thick glass, Roy could hear a mumbled "We're closed, son."

It was only 4:30 and the hours posted said they closed at five, but the closed sign was, indeed, displayed.

"Please, sir-"

"I said we're closed."

"But I have an order to pick up!"

"So does everyone else who comes here."

"It's just a few screws!"

The man peered over his shoulder. "Who'dja say the order's for?"

"Riza Hawkeye." He hoped her name had some weight.

The man mumbled something to himself and propped the broom against a chair before shuffling over to unlock the door. Roy assumed this was Haderline. One eye bulged a bit and his back was hunched but he was very thickly built and looked very strong for a man in his late fifties. He would have been as tall as Roy were it not for the hunch. "That girl," he said as he struggled with the hinge, "is going to put me out of business."

Haderline did not extend any further greeting. Roy was not given any permission to enter but assumed that unlocking the door was some sort of peace offering by itself and pushed open the door. A little bell rang above him. Haderline was digging in one of the many shelves crammed with scrap metal.

"It's four screws-"

"I know what she wants," he said, cutting him off. "She's very lucky I don't make her keep a tab."

Roy considered making small talk but thought better of it. Mr. Haderline seemed to be offended by his very existence and conversing with him was likely to end poorly.

Haderline limped back over to Roy with the screws poking out of his meaty fist. He squinted and it made the wrinkles around his eyes spread to his ears. "Who're you?"

Roy frowned. "What?"

"Prove that you're not stealing her order."

It struck Roy as overly cautious. He fumbled through his pocket and handed him the note. "That's what she gave me."

Haderline held the note inches from his eyes and stared at the thin loops. Roy squirmed.

"Fine." He pressed the screws into Roy's hand. "Tell her to sign it next time."

Roy cleared his throat. "Yes, sir."

Haderline hobbled back over to the chair and picked up his broom. "Now, get the hell out of here, son. We're closed."

He left and the bell rang again. The sharp edges of the screws pinched his palm and he rolled them around with his thumb. If this was the hint, he wasn't getting anything from it.

Longer chapter. Please R&R!