After all of fifteen minutes in her presence, Edward firmly believed the nurse of CCHS, Mrs. Campbell, was his favorite person in the building. Oddly enough he'd never found cause before to enter the nurse's office, despite having been in fights (and accidents) in the past. Of course, her having to examine his injuries had been mortifying, but she'd swiftly determined that while he wasn't going to need to see a doctor, he was going to be sent home to relax. Mrs. Campbell was a soft-looking person, all motherly with a wild head of brown curls; Ed had gotten the distinct impression, from her gentle smile, that she thought he'd been through enough today. He couldn't agree more.

However, that did mean that Edward was now standing on his own doorstep, hesitating to enter. It was possible that Izumi was with Sig at their butcher shop…or she could be just on the other side of the door Ed was so confronted by. Really, it was a 50/50 chance either way. He sighed, letting his head fall for a moment before gathering himself and entering the house. One way or another, Izumi would hear of what had transpired that day, and Edward might as well get it over with.

As it turned out, Ed had been right to steel his nerves, for as he removed his shoes at the entryway, he heard curious footsteps approaching. "Edward…? What are you doing home already?"

Oh, his adoptive mother could sound so kind. While he and Al tended to dwell on her more fearsome side, that couldn't negate Izumi's loving heart. She was strict, sure, but also fair. And right then there was no anger in her voice, no expectations or judgement. Ed, placing his shoes in their proper place on the rack, looked up to see her face alight with worry. "I got sent home by the nurse," he began, holding up his hands as Izumi's eyes widened. "I'm fine! Well, a little sore, but—I'm mostly fine." As fine as I can be, nowadays.

"What happened?" she demanded, continuing before Edward could even begin to try to answer. "No, hold on—you get settled on the couch, Ed, I'll get us some tea. Something relaxing, heavens know I need calm nerves when it comes to you…"

Unable to keep from smiling, Edward followed Izumi through the hall, turning left into the living room as she continued on to the kitchen. His guardian's little jab was meant in good nature, and in truth Ed found it comforting. If she was too nice, he'd think something was wrong with her. Settling into the wonderfully worn sofa, Edward closed his eyes. What a day. What he wouldn't do for some rest…

All too soon the clink of ceramic forced Ed to blink himself back to the living room, where Izumi was situating herself in her armchair, two steaming mugs of tea sitting on the coffee table between them. "Drink," she commanded, upon seeing his open eyes. Edward did so willingly and gratefully, the scalding liquid making him feel warm and full. It wasn't until then that he realized he'd had nothing to eat, and while he would definitely need some food, the tea helped. Only when he'd replaced his cup did Izumi raise her eyebrows, clearly waiting for his explanation.

Edward told her what had happened as carefully as possible. His adoptive mother's face scrunched up, worry and anger warring on her features when he ever so delicately told her of being kicked. Ed had to repeat and be very, very clear that the principal hadn't found him to be at fault. Predictably, Izumi wasn't thrilled that he'd been given a detention, but given the circumstances it could have been a lot worse. When Edward had finished recounting the day's events, she shook her head, arms crossed over her chest.

"I can't believe that bastard gave you a detention for defending yourself," his guardian finally muttered, a murderous glint in her eye. Ed often wondered whether she was the root cause of his combative nature, or whether his late parents had a hand in that as well. Certainly, Izumi was the reason he knew how to defend himself; the woman often preached to him and Al the value of never starting a fight, but always finishing one. "What were you supposed to do, just let it happen?"

Privately and very deep down, Edward agreed with her, but that made little difference. He'd become used to being treated in what could be deemed a less than fair manner. Izumi, on the other hand, had a harder time accepting it. "I did hit him pretty hard. Besides, a detention is almost nothing," Ed reminded her. The last thing he needed was for her to call up and start something with Principal Bradley on his behalf. They'd done enough of that last year. "Nothing I can't handle—honestly I thought it was going to be a lot worse."

Izumi hmphed, but let it go. No doubt she was thinking the same thing as Edward. "It's damn good luck your teacher was there to vouch for you. I'm glad someone was watching out for my boy."

Nodding in agreement, Ed took another sip of his tea to cover any expression that might cross his face. After brief consideration, he'd determined it would be best not to mention that Mr. Mustang had lied for him. That particular tidbit only made everything messier, and it didn't really change anything. Besides, something about their conversation—behind locked doors!—felt inherently private. The teacher had lied, and Edward was covering it up. A little circle of secrecy, one that would only give his guardian more questions rather than answers.

"Well!" Izumi's exclamation, perhaps a tad too cheerful, snapped Ed out of his musings. "Given that you seem to have some free time, now, why don't you put yourself to good use and help me in the garden?"

Without waiting for an answer, his adoptive mother strode off, assuming Edward would follow. She was right. Even though every fiber of his being wanted nothing more than to sleep and forget the events of today and yesterday and the day before, Ed felt a deep love and respect for Izumi. He'd not let his issues prevent him from being as good a son as he could be.

Roy was busy going over his students' labs when the door to his classroom creaked open. A quick glance upwards revealed his wife standing there, her sensible bag clutched close to her side. "You're still working?" Riza asked, heels clicking on the linoleum flooring as she walked towards him.

"I'm just taking a peek at the labs from today," Roy murmured in response, letting his attention fall back down to the papers before him. Maybe a little more than a simple peek; Roy always found it impossible to look over schoolwork without digging in deep. In truthfulness he was grading the labs fully. Three pages each for around sixty students was hours of work, but that's what he'd signed up for. That, of course, didn't mean he couldn't complain a little.

The room was silent for a moment, with only the buzzing of florescent lighting filling the air, before Riza spoke once more. She was still standing next to him; Roy had rather expected her to pull up a chair and settle in. "Roy, have you looked at a clock lately?"

No, he had not. Doing so now, he was shocked to see that it was already nearing five in the afternoon. Even the most sluggish of students had been gone for two hours now, and Riza's secretarial duties were doubtless long completed as well. No wonder she'd come looking for him; typically, the teaching staff would have been packed up by this time, too. "Oh…I hadn't realized it had gotten so late." And knowing full well what his wife expected of him, Roy stood, stretching his hands high above his head until his back popped, shirt threatening to come untucked at the motion. "Sorry about that."

Stooping once more, Roy pulled his satchel out from underneath his desk and set about organizing what he needed to take home. Riza watched him for some moments before elbowing him. The playful gesture took him off guard, and Roy looked up to see her looking at him expectantly. "What?"

"Come on, you really think I wouldn't ask? You looked pretty serious in the office today, with those two boys. What happened?"

Ah, of course. Riza's inquisitive nature would hardly let her ignore the matter. Bradley wasn't the most talkative fellow, so she wouldn't have heard anything from him. Normally a secretarial position might be one filled with the latest gossip, but not in this school. Clipping the graded labs together, Roy explained the situation briefly. "I had to break up a fight between them."

His wife hummed, unsatisfied with the answer. "It looked bad."

Yes, it had been, hadn't it? Roy knew Riza was referring to Elijah's bloody nose, and felt it was somehow terribly unfair that Elijah had looked worse for wear when his injuries—both emotional and physical—were doubtless no match for Edward's. Of course, that wasn't to negate the boy's pain. It seemed that Edward had one hell of a punch. But still. "It wasn't great," he replied. "Both of them are being punished at Bradley's discretion."

"The blonde one was Edward, right? The student that you're so worried about. Seems the summer hasn't cooled his temper." Riza's voice sounded innocent enough, but her words—so cruelly matter of fact—made Roy clench his teeth. He didn't deign to respond, instead grabbing the last of his things and taking a deep breath before turning to face his wife. Apparently, he didn't do a good enough job of calming himself (or maybe Riza was, after all these years, simply too good at reading him), because she raised her eyebrow. "What? I told you, he got in fights last year, too."

How was Roy to explain the intricacies of the circumstances of a situation when he wasn't even privy to all of them? And even if he could, why should he? Edward was clearly going through something, and Roy wouldn't be helping the situation to spread half-baked chatter amongst the school's staff—even if the staff in question was his wife. "In this case," he answered stiffly, "Bradley determined that Edward was acting in self-defense."

Riza shifted her weight to her right leg, hips cocked like a gun, eyes sharpening until they felt like flint chips staring back at him. "I was only asking. You don't have to get so defensive."

Oh, part of Roy wanted to just let it out. The frustration and miscommunication that filled him, and the lack of love that had allowed those emotions in. This is not one of your true crime cases. This is a real person, a human being, who is hurting. You can't treat this like a "fun" case to solve or to distract yourself with. I'm not a witness who has agreed to make their statement public, I am just a man who is trying to help. Life is not black and white; it is so many shades of grey, and you ought to know that. But he didn't and couldn't. It was not (or at least, not entirely), his wife's fault that they had turned into vastly different people. In his heart, Roy did not believe she meant to sound as uncaring as she did to him, and he was not blameless, either.

And as such he did not go off on here, instead sighing and saying his dutiful lines. "I'm sorry, Riza. It's been a long day, and today is only Monday. Why don't we go grab a bite to eat? I'm always less disagreeable with a full stomach."

Why don't we continue on with this broken charade?