an: look... i KNOW i said this was a happy fic... but hear me out...


"I didn't realise people still read the newspaper," Roy quipped as Riza straightened from looking down at the shelf.

"I do. I like reading it."

"Okay," he chuckled, waiting for Riza to hand over the cens for it. He supposed that was fair. She still wasn't the most up to date on technology and didn't seem to have any desire to be either, so it made sense she'd still read the newspaper. The day she'd moved in he'd bought one just for the novelty. He forgot what it was like to read through it rather than on his phone. Plus, Riza appeared to like reading it over breakfast, so he knew it wouldn't go to waste.

As they left the shop he squinted at the title through his sunglasses, noticing that it wasn't even news from Central. "Eastern Times?"

Riza nodded, tucking it under her arm so she could reach out and take his hand while they continued their walk. His hand slipped into hers eagerly, wanting to feel the warmth of her touch and the softness of her skin again.

"I like to keep up with what's happening back home."

Roy looked at her as she stashed her purse in her jacket pocket, a smile spreading across his face. "Fair enough," he agreed.

It was very early. Riza wasn't joking when she said she was an early riser, but there was something beautiful about waking up with her as the dawn light was beginning to peak its way through his bedroom curtains, and Roy didn't mind that one bit. The streets were mostly empty, but Roy had still donned a baseball cap and a pair of sunglasses just to avoid the inevitable. He wanted to enjoy this morning stroll with Riza.

Once back in their apartment after a lovely walk, Roy began to prepare lunch for them both, bringing Riza a cup of tea before he started. There was music playing in the background and he hummed away to the tune, getting lost in his work and the sounds.

"Here we go, one ham and cheese toastie… Riza?"

He stopped, the smile falling from his lips when he saw Riza. She was sitting with a hand covering her mouth, staring down at the black and white page before her. Slowly, her head lifted, and she looked up at him, expression sombre and eyes wet.

"What's wrong?" he asked, the plates almost clattering roughly onto the coffee table in his haste to kneel by her side and grasp both her hands in his tightly.

"My…" She cleared her throat, trying to rid the lump in it. She glanced at the newspaper in front of her, causing Roy to do the same. It was open at the obituaries page. "My old music teacher… She passed away a few days ago."

Judging from her reaction the woman meant a lot to Riza. Roy didn't know a lot about her past, he got snippets every now and again, but it was clear to see this woman played a large part in it. A tear fell down her cheek and she wiped it away as another fell. Roy caught the second with his thumb, brushing it away.

"I'm so sorry, Riza," he murmured, pulling her body against his. She fell against him, hugging one of his forearms tightly while the other hand still covered her mouth. She cried, barely making any noise, and Roy held her until she calmed down.

"Do you want to go to the funeral?" She nodded against him. "Okay, let's go. When is it?"

"In three days. And it's okay, you don't –"

"Riza, I wouldn't leave you to go alone. And I would be honoured to celebrate this woman's life with you. She clearly meant a lot."

"She did," Riza whispered after a pause, her voice charged with emotion.

Roy itched to ask more about her, but on the one hand, he didn't want to upset Riza further. On the other, he didn't want to pry. It didn't bother him that he didn't know a lot about Riza's past. If she didn't want to tell him then that was more than okay, so long as she was happy.

"She meant a lot," Riza breathed, letting out a long sigh. "She got me through a lot."

"In what way?" Roy asked quietly and cautiously. He was pleased to discover Riza continued, rather than shy away from him.

"When I was eight – the same year my mother passed – my father sent me off to a music teacher. It was probably just so he could get rid of me for a few hours every Saturday."

Roy's body tensed. That didn't sit well with him at all.

"I hated it at first. I didn't want to be carted off to a tutor. I wanted to stay at home in my room and grieve for my mother. But Berthold had no time for things as trivial as grieving."

His grip tightened on her, hugging her tighter to his chest. Everything she said made him hate this Berthold even more.

"However, Mrs. Rockbell was so lovely." He could hear the sad smile in her voice. "She took me under her wing and after the first two lessons, it turned into a therapy session. She taught me how to let go of a lot of things that were bothering me and lose myself in the music."

Roy could believe that. When she played, she appeared to be lost to it all and in her own little bubble. Her eyes closed and she blocked out the outside world, completely focussed on the music and the lyrics.

"Hour lessons turned into four-hour lessons and when my father wanted me to stop practicing music because he thought it was a waste of time, I pursued it myself with my own money. The thought of stopping made me feel ill."

"What instruments did you learn to play?"

"It was piano and violin at first. I still have a violin in a case from her." Riza's breath hitched and Roy pressed a kiss to the top of her head. "Then, she introduced me to guitar and that was my favourite. She pushed me to keep going with music and to go against my father's wishes. Some may say she was a bad influence," Riza chuckled, sniffing afterwards and wiping her face. "But she helped me so much. Music got me through a very difficult time in my life, and so did she. I'll always be grateful to her for it."

"She sounds like a wonderful lady," Roy commented, and he meant it.

"She was." Her body shuddered underneath his arms and Roy gave her a tight squeeze once more.

"When is it, again?"

"On Friday," Riza sniffed.

"Okay, I'll make sure I'm free."

"Are you sure?" Riza asked, biting her lip and looking up at him.

His smile was sincere as he pressed a hand to the side of her head, running his hands through her hair. "Of course. I want to be there for you."

"Okay," she whispered. "And thank you. It… It means a lot."

Roy pressed a kiss to her forehead before bundling her up in his arms again. They lay there on the couch just holding one another, and Riza eventually drifted off to sleep after crying so much.


Riza wrung her hands in her lap as they approached the cemetery. Images of her mother's funeral popped into her head, reminding her of how there was no one there to bid goodbye to her mother. Berthold had told no one, so it had just been him, Riza, and the minister. It was a sad affair, and Riza always thought her mother deserved better, but Berthold was so out of it, that was all he could manage.

Her nerves were a wreck inside her stomach. It was squeezing painfully, and she could feel herself already getting tearful. Roy broke through the fog of pain in her mind with just a squeeze of her hand. She turned to look at him in the driver's seat, noticing a sympathetic smile on his face.

"You okay?" he asked quietly.

Taking a deep breath, Riza let it out in a rush. Roy was here. He'd support her through this.

"Yeah."

He squeezed her hand then nodded to outside. "I need to go park the car. If you want, you can get out now and I'll catch up?"

Riza nodded, climbing out of the car. As Roy pulled away – he was in a much more conspicuous car today, not his sports car – Riza noticed how there were so many people milling about everywhere. Most were clustered around a grave some distance away from her, so Riza made her way along the path to the gate nearby. She'd wait there for Roy to catch up.

"Riza?"

Turning her head, she was confused as to who would be calling her name here, of all places. Then, she spotted Edward Elric standing next to another teenage boy. Both were dressed in black suits with a shirt and black tie. Judging by the other boy's features, she supposed this was the Alphonse Elric she'd heard so much about.

"Ed?"

"Are you here for the funeral?" he asked.

Riza nodded. "I am."

"This is Al," Ed introduced, confirming her thoughts.

"Hello," Alphonse greeted with a smile.

"It's nice to finally meet you, Al."

"How did you know Granny?" Edward asked, now all the niceties were said.

Granny? Wait… Was Mrs. Rockbell Edward's grandmother?

"Um," Riza swallowed. "She taught me music years ago and we kept in touch."

Al smiled fondly.

"Was she… your grandmother?" Riza asked.

"Technically… Well, no. She's the grandmother of a friend of ours, but they're practically family. Her name's Winry."

The name rang a bell in Riza's head. She'd heard that name before from Mrs. Rockbell. In fact, she suddenly remembered seeing a young Winry toddling about the house as she'd been getting lessons.

"Oh yeah, I remember her talking about Winry."

"Really?" Ed asked surprised.

"Yes."

There was a call for people to gather round, interrupting their conversation. Edward and Alphonse excused themselves, their expressions turning sombre as they walked up the incline. She followed them with her eyes, watching as they came to a stop next to a girl with long blonde hair. She was crying already, and Riza's heart broke for her. Edward grabbed her hand tightly while Alphonse placed a hand on her back, rubbing it as they tried to console her.

Roy still hadn't arrived back yet. She shifted in place nervously, her hands wringing together once more. She didn't want to lose him in the crowd and seeing Winry cry was almost setting her off. She needed him by her side.

"Riza?"

For the second time that day, Riza was confused as to who would recognise her here.

But… She recognised that voice. The tone made dread shoot up her spine in an instant. The call was distant, and she turned automatically, her body betraying her because this was someone she really did not want to see again.

Turning in place, she froze when her eyes came to rest upon her father's figure.


ok now look

i feel like this needs to be addressed, the whole riza and berty thing especially now roy is in the picture

prepare for some hurt/comfort (at least it's not straight angst (kinda)!)