AN: Hi! I got convinced to continue this and to be honest, I originally had a multi-chapter outline but then I scrapped that idea and only posted the first chapter. I just can't see myself committing to a multi-chapter yet.
Feedback was great for that first chapter, though, so I'll explore this universe for a little while longer. This will now be a series of one-shots, not necessarily in order (because my brain gets inspiration from all sorts of things), which dwells in the relationshipswithin the Mustang/Elric family*. [I'll keep referring to them like this because, as I showed in the first chapter, Riza was adamant about letting the boys stick with their real surnames.]
For now, we get a continuation from Chapter 1 hihi. Hope you enjoy!
In the Line of Fire
Riza resisted the urge to raise her brow. No. She had to keep her soldier poker face on but, as each minute ticked by, the McFarlands were proving to be as obnoxious as she expected them to be and more. They wore overly bright and heavily padded clothes, with Mrs. McFarland even going so far as to put a large fur shawl around her shoulders. How the woman managed to breathe with the almost-summer weather in those clothes was a mystery.
The principal, a kind, old woman named Mrs. Bailey, was doing her best to placate the two civilians, having to remind them over and over that this was only a 'dialogue' between parents and not a venue for heated arguments.
Too late for that, thought Riza, her eyes sliding over to her quietly seething husband with his hair slicked back and his formal military uniform straighter-than-normal because of his rigid posture. They left headquarters with both of them sure that it would be Riza to uncharacteristically blow her composure off, so Roy took the precaution of kissing her senseless in the car before they filed out. It would seem now that it was Roy who needed that kiss more than her.
"And another thing," continued Mrs. McFarland, her tirade from the past half hour still not over, raising her bejeweled finger in the space between them and the Mustangs, "that child of yours managed to give my precious baby a black-eye! How is he supposed to go to school now? How can he focus on his lessons? We had to keep him away from school today because of your beast!" she glared at Riza and twisted her lips in disgust, making her point known that she knew the Elrics were hers, and that her poor husband had no choice but to accept the two blonde abominations.
"Who the fu - "
Riza shot her hand out and held Roy's knee to stop him from finishing that sentence. If they lose their cool, they've lost this fight.
"Mrs. McFarland," interjected the principal, "As I've mentioned, this was only a dialogue. Our objective here is for a healthy environment for Harry and Ed to have school in peace. I understand Harry was hurt - " both Roy and Riza's eyes twitched at this - "which is why we are having this meeting, but we do not need the arguments amongst ourselves. We are the adults here, and we can settle this manner like adults."
"Alright," the excessively accessorized female huffed. "All we need is an apology from the boy to my baby. That will ease my baby's mind to return to school."
How about I ease your head off your neck.
Mrs. Bailey looked at the Mustang couple expectantly. "Mr. and Mrs. Mustang?"
Riza opened her mouth to protest, but Roy beat her to it, "No. Edward is not apologizing. It was a fight between children. It happened. It's done."
As expected, this triggered Mrs. McFarland once again. "Ohhoho, Mr. Mustang, there was no fight! Mrs. Bailey pulled your wife's child off my baby! My baby was bullied! My baby deserves - "
"Shit. Your 'baby' deserves shit, Mrs. McFarland, and let me tell you why…"
Uh oh. Riza's hand curled into a fist over Roy's thigh, and she pressed down deep against it, but her husband wasn't listening to her non-verbal cues anymore.
"Your child bullied Alphonse first! Because of your ignorance!" Roy's voice was getting louder by the word, and Riza had to fight the urge to stand at attention and salute. This wasn't her husband right now. This was her commanding officer. "And for what? Because of your pathetic and idiotic conclusion that they're Riza's illegitimate children? Even if they were, it's not your place to judge!"
The McFarlands had the decency to look away, ashamed of being called out.
"For the record, Mr. and Mrs. McStuckUp, you've crossed the line when you attacked my wife the moment we entered. She's doing the best she can, and you better be damned thankful I haven't set any of your asses on fire. But to insult Ed and Al when they didn't start the fight?! Agh!" Roy turned his heated gaze on his wife. "Will you let off your fist on my leg? It's starting to hurt."
As one, the McFarlands and Mrs. Bailey's focus shifted on the whitened fist of Riza Mustang steadfast on Roy's thigh, near the knee.
"You're going to stand and might burn something," was her calm reply.
Mr. McFarland shifted in his seat, suddenly recalling why 'Mustang' sounded familiar. When he first saw the military uniforms, he determined they posed no actual threat despite the high ranks these two carried. But then now he realized this wasn't just any young-faced general. This was the Head State Alchemist whose specialty was fire manipulation. That Mustang.
Roy clamped his teeth together within his pursed lips. How was Riza remaining stoic after all this? "Let go. I'll start the car."
She did as she was told and watched her husband's retreating back as he slammed the door closed behind him. "Well," she turned back to the three other occupants of the room, "we need to go. Wouldn't want our 'dirty' presence to seep into yours any further. Mrs. Bailey," she focused on the woman, "if it's all the same to you, we have no problem whatever it is Ed would receive as punishment for punching Harry. We understand that he punched first, but we won't take it sitting down if Harry goes unpunished."
Mrs. McFarland let out a strangled noise, to which Riza directed a glare at her, effectively cutting her off.
"Harry pushed Al first because Harry thinks Al is my illegitimate child and called him 'dirty'. Ed, being the older brother, acted in defense. Surely you'd understand that before you place all of the blame on Ed."
"Is this true?" asked Mrs. Bailey.
Even if the question was poised to the McFarlands, the blonde Major would not be deterred. "Al has no reason to lie, and Ed's own injuries speak for themselves." She made sure to make and maintain eye contact with Mrs. McFarland as she stood from her seat. "I treated him myself and I'm an expert at inflicting injuries."
/-/
She stalked off toward the parking lot in haste, her heels clicking against the school's tiles. Why did she decide to wear the formal military uniform again? The heels, even though they were a mere inch from the ground, proved to be a deterrent from speed on top of the little leg room the skirt provided. A determined frown settled on her face, her pace quickening. She was agitated with the McFarlands, sure, but did Roy really have to blow up like that?
After his outburst, of course she had no choice but to lend him support, but she could think of at least two other ways the meeting could have gone better.
Unusual movement caught her eye as she turned the corner to the parking lot. Her hand instinctively went to one of her guns, ready to draw at a moment's notice, forgetting that she was inside a gated school. "Al?!" she eased her hand off her side, taking in the boy standing up from his place on the floor. She pushed air out of her lips. She's already lost count of the number of times she almost drew a gun or a weapon at the Elric boys when she thought they were a threat. She wondered when she will be used to their presence enough to notdo that to them.
"You're supposed to be with Mrs. Curtis," she said, not expecting the younger Elric to stray off like this.
The boy shifted his weight around. "I wanted to apologize to Harry's parents… I waved at pop but he didn't see me." He cast his eyes down on the floor. "Is your talk done? Can I say sorry so that brother doesn't have to?"
"Where did you get the idea that Ed will have to say sorry?"
"He told me Mrs. Bailey is gonna make him."
She drew her eyebrows together in both confusion and awe. Awe as to Ed's foresight and his ability to decipher the consequences of his actions, and confusion as to Al's willingness to shoulder those consequences. "No need for that, Al," she extended her hand for the boy to take, which he did, "Come on, Roy -" she stopped to correct herself to respect the child's decided term for her husband "- pop is waiting in the car." While Ed still calls them by their names, Al has long adjusted to calling them 'mom' and 'pop'.
They arrived at the parking lot and made a beeline to their car. As they drew closer, Riza saw Roy's head against his arms on the steering wheel. She did her best to be gentle with the passenger door lest she startle him.
Al climbed on the back seat, strapping on his seat belt like he was told.
Roy jolted at the sight of Al from the rear view mirror. "Heeeeeyy, buddy. What are you doing here?"
"He wanted to apologize to them." His wife wasn't in the mood to further talk about anything remotely related to the McFarlands anymore. "Could you drop me off at the range? I need a few hours."
He nodded, easing the car out of school property. "Rest and regroup?"
She sighed. "Yes, please." She was in a bad mood, and Roy was in a worse mood. Based from experience, they needed some time to calm down before fleshing out the event or else they'd end up at each other's throats, and not in a good way.
"Can I come?" asked Al, and the adoptive parents halted for a minute.
Riza was the first to recover at the question. She and Roy haven't fully discussed the issue of weapons and how to address the matter to the kids yet, so they were both unsure how to proceed from here. She twisted in her seat to face the boy. "Are you sure? Don't you want to rest after pop picks up Ed?"
He shook his head. "I wanna see your happy place."
A series of questions quickly formulated itself in her head as the optimum route to take. "Do you know what a range is, Al?"
"It's a place, like a farm for animals but the military has guns instead of animals." His adoptive parents were in the military so it wouldn't make sense if his answer involved a farmer's range.
"Do you know what guns are?"
Al nodded, lips pursed and brows drawn together in focus. "The ones you put on your uniform."
"Do you know what they do?"
"Umm, I saw other kids at the playground. They shoot people."
"Or things!" blurted out Riza. She stretched her neck as far as she could from the backrest of her seat to look at him straight in the eye. Final question. "If I take you, will you promise to listen to everything I say? Guns are weapons, Al. They're not toys."
Roy choked on his own saliva, the sound stretching for a few seconds in the confines of the car. "Uh, Riza?"
She adjusted to face forward again in her seat after Al sounded off his agreement to her terms. "Fine." She side-eyed her skeptical-looking husband. "I won't let him touch one yet, okay? So try not to burn the house down with Ed."
/-/
Al trailed after his adoptive mother after she changed out of her skirt and into her usual black undershirt and uniform pants. He noticed belts all around her body and was waiting for the right time to ask about them. One belt was in the shape of an 'X' on her back and they had pockets, while the other belt on her waist, he knew, is where she kept her guns. Why did she have two belts? Did the one on her back help her posture?
She stopped in front of her chosen booth and noticed the perplexed frown on his face. "What's wrong?"
"Why do you have a belt on your back?"
She bit down the laugh that bubbled in her throat. This was a child who was curious about the world and it wasn't wise to laugh at an innocent question. "It's not a belt," she explained, kneeling down to look at him at eye level, "It's called a shoulder holster." She shifted to the side so that Al could see the holster pocket where one of her guns was resting. "See that?"
He nodded, then pointed to the gun at her hip. "But you already have that one and the one behind you."
"My job calls for more than one…" she trailed off, thinking of a better way to broach the topic. "Hmm, let's see, how many pieces of chalk are in your pocket right now?"
The boy in response rummaged through his pockets and presented her with five different-sized pieces of chalk.
She patted his head. "Like that. You have five of those, I have four of mine." She winked in jest.
"I didn't know you liked guns so much? Like pop with alchemy?" Why didn't he notice before? His second mom was clear from the start: she wasn't an alchemist. Though he knew that she was in the military, it was unfair to assume she didn't have any hobbies. Why did he never bother to ask?
Riza tilted her head to the side as she regarded his question. "They serve their purpose." She then proceeded to dig inside her bag where she hid her attire from earlier that day. Pulling her hand out, opened it toward Al palm up, revealing two small oblongs attached together with string. "Wear these."
The boy took it, but he held the item and brought it closer to his face, trying to discern their purpose.
"Here." She guided one earplug into his ear and then settled the other one. She made a motion of cupping her ears with her palms and said, "Adjust them so that it's tight."
"Why?" asked Al, but nonetheless tucked the earplugs tighter within his ears.
Instead of answering, Riza stood and positioned herself in the booth. She drew one of her guns from the shoulder holster, clicked the safety off, aimed, and fired one shot, the target getting hit dead center on the chest.
Al jumped at the explosion-like noise. He never knew real guns could be that loud. All he knew was that kids who played with toy guns ran around and said 'bang' but none of that compared to the real thing.
She flicked the safety back on, knelt down to Al's eye level again, and pulled the string to remove the earplugs from his ears. "That's why. Your ears need protection when in the firing range."
He nodded, eyes straying to the gun lightly resting on her hand. "Can I…" his fingers reached out.
She shifted the gun away with a firm, "No." Then her eyes softened. "You promised to listen to me, yes?" She asked, though she knew she didn't have a problem with obedience when it came to the boys, especially Al.
"Yes."
"Okay." She sat down on the floor of the booth and presented the gun in front of him with both hands. "This is a gun… a real gun."
Al followed her cue and sat on the floor too, eyes bright as Riza pointed to and discussed the basic parts of the gun.
"You got it?" she asked, after naming every part.
"Mmhmm." Her lesson was easier to grasp now after he's seen her pull the trigger to fire. "When did you learn to shoot?"
"I was 13," she lied, not wanting the nine-year-old to think it was alright to handle a gun now even though Riza did start to learn at his age.
His eyes were downcast. "Oh."
"If you still want to learn by then, I promise to teach you. But for now, I need you to master my rules of gun handling."
His demeanor brightened again at the mention of 'rules'. "Like alchemy rules?"
She laughed. "Yes. Are you ready?" At his enthusiastic nod, she laid out her handkerchief down on the floor and took out the magazine of the gun still in her hand. "Number 1: an empty gun can kill a man. Can you repeat that for me?"
"An empty gun can kill a man… why? You said the trigger shoots the bullets out."
She laid down the magazine on the handkerchief. "I did. That, as we talked about," she pointed at the item, "holds the bullets. It does get empty, but you always have to treat a gun as if it's loaded. Even after you ejected that, bullets can sometimes remain in the barrel, so you might still be able to shoot even if the magazine is out."
When she determined he grasped the information, she continued, "Number 2 is simple: Never aim a gun at a person or up at the sky." She allowed the second rule to sink in the air between them then followed it up with, "You don't want to accidentally shoot someone."
"You never shot someone?" his confusion evident in the lilt of his voice. What were guns for, then?
"I have, but never by accident," she admitted, "and that's related to rule number 3: Until you're ready, the trigger is off-limits."
Al looked down at the gun in her hand and noticed for the first time how her pointer finger lightly rested against the barrel, instead of on the trigger.
"Do you understand?"
"Yup! How many bad guys have you shot already?"
She popped the magazine back in the gun, checked the safety, and then reholstered it. "I don't count," she lied again. "The military sends us out to a mission and I just… do it." Of course, given Roy's status, there has been more than one occasion that she had to pull the trigger simply out of protection and not a mission.
He looked up at her with wide eyes, giving off a golden glint as it caught the light. "Aren't missions bad? Why did you join the military?"
"At first, it was the only way for me to earn a living after my father died." She shrugged. "Eventually, your pop talked about the bigger picture and his dreams; so I promised to support him and to watch his back."
"But isn't it dangerous?" insisted the boy.
She scrunched her nose for a moment then settled it back to normal. "It's part of the job. Besides, someone has to stand in the way of your pop getting hurt."
He frowned. "What's pop's dream?" Was it enough for her to be in dangerous missions?
She squeezed his cheek affectionately. "Why don't you ask him that one?"
/-/
Ed wasn't blind. He noticed his adoptive father's hands lots of times before. He had always been curious about them from the moment the man snapped his fingers and produced flames out of nowhere that first day they arrived. The array on his gloves looked simple enough, but Ed couldn't fathom the calculations that went behind it.
But when the man took the gloves off… that was when Ed saw it.
At first, he thought it was dirt on the back of Roy's right hand. As the days and weeks passed by, it was clear that those strange marks weren't going away. Scars, they're scars, the boy realized one day.
Why would he have odd, misplaced scars on the back of his hand? Was it a side-effect of his alchemy? But he snaps with his left hand, too, and that one didn't have scars…
Without Al or Riza in the house, the nagging feeling of wanting to know the source and reason for those scars grew with each passing second within the boy. He snuck another glance at Roy who was casually reading the newspaper on the couch. His stomach clenched against the floor when he saw those scars again as the dark-haired man flipped a page.
Don't do it. Don't do it. "Mr. Mustang?"
Roy peeked at him from the edge of the newspaper. "Yeah?"
"Why do you have scars at the back of your hand? Who did it to you?" Oh well.
In response, he folded the newspaper neatly and set it aside. So much for avoiding talking about weapons. With Riza stuck with Al in the range, Roy thought that only his wife would have the burden of easing the topic of weapons today. Unfortunately, Ed won't give him such luck. "How do you know they're scars?"
"Well," the child sat up on the floor and tilted his head to meet him in the eye, "they're not going away… unless you don't wash your hands." He narrowed his eyes, doubt setting in. He wouldn't put it past the older alchemist to forget to wash his hands thoroughly. He's witnessed Riza remind him of more trivial things.
"Hey." He held his hands up in surrender, then turned the right one over to stare at the scars in question. A remnant of his carelessness that nearly cost his life and Riza's. "Yes, they're scars."
Ed glared. "I asked how you got them?" He hated it when the man didn't give out straight answers. Riza was much better at letting him and Al understand things.
Roy sat quietly for awhile, assessing which strategy to use. Riza wasn't here to save him from Ed's flare of temper if he answered with his usual roundabout way. He sighed, eyeing the boy. Stall for time. Gather your wits, Roy. "Are you comfortable there, or…?"
The boy crossed his arms, glare still present. "Are you gonna answer the question or not?"
"I am, just a long story."
"Then start already," he all but growled. It's just a scar, what's so hard about explaining that?
He adjusted his back against the couch and settled in to tell his tale, or at least a very condensed, very safe, version of it. "A few years ago, when I was still a Colonel, my office was in-charge of monitoring military fraternization."
At the odd word, the boy raised his brow, the question frozen at the tip of his tongue.
"Military fraternization is a relationship formed within, well, the military."
"Like you and Riza?"
He nodded, "See your mo- Riza - Riza and I were only able to marry because we pushed enough paperwork to declare our relationship to the higher-ups. Anyway, any type of relationship within the ranks is allowed and won't be penalized if you declare it so that unbiased parties can come in if a promotion or a demotion is in issue. And at that time," he waved the scars in the air, "we were the office you declare it to."
"What does that have to do with it? Was it an off-angle papercut?"
"No." He frowned. Can't the boy sense that he was trying? He eased off the couch and sat on the floor to meet Ed at eye-level easier. "So, there was this Warrant Officer Solaris. First name: Lujuria. Weapon of expertise: throwing knives. She loved to have uhhh -" he coughed. What word can he use instead of one-night stands? "relationships, quick relationships, with the men. Every week, sometimes less, she'd declare a new relationship to our office."
Ed scooched in his seat, leaning forward, the tale becoming more interesting than a papercut story.
"Falman, with his memory, eventually matched the men she declared and the sick leaves they were filing left and right."
"The men got the flu?"
More like an STD, but sure. "Yeah. She made everyone sick, so eventually she was discharged. She didn't like it, and long story short, she went all around town hurting people. I chased after her with no back-up, got hurt - "
"Uh-uh. No, old man," he ignored Roy's eye-twitch at the term, "you said this was a long story so make it long." His eyes burned, making his desire to know palpable in the air. This was the first time either of his adoptive parents were telling in detail what their jobs entailed. People often whispered how 'dangerous' it was to be in the military, but he and Al can only assume with the Mustangs not as forthcoming with their job details as other parents.
"Ugh." Roy pouted, unable to control the knee-jerk reaction. "So she's good with knives. When she was discharged, she went around town throwing knives at civilians. It didn't matter who, she just injured a whole lot of them… I -" he swallowed - "was the only one in the office when the call came in. Lunch break, you know?"
Ed nodded; so Roy continued, his eyes straying behind Ed, not focusing on anything in particular, "The report was a number of severely injured civilians, some possibly dying or dead, and I rushed out. No back-up, no note to the team, nothing. I thought I cornered her, but she was fast. Rushed at me, cut my gloves up, and got me hurt right here," he patted his left side.
"Hurt?" he echoed, eyes tracking the covered stomach.
He smirked, the mirth not reaching his eyes. "Show and tell is for another time, kid."
"Fiiiiiiine," grumbled Ed.
"It was a pretty rough wound. I knew I had to close it somehow. Luckily, I confiscated one of Havoc's lighters that morning." He chuckled, remembering his unexpected good fortune mixed with his near-death experience. "I carved my transmutation circle at the back of my hand with the knife she lodged in my skin and seared the wound closed…"
He took a deep breath, the next events not as easy to recount. "I almost passed out a couple of times while I did it. Riza and the team engaged Solaris around a block away? I don't really know. I heard," he paused, swallowing the dread rising from his throat, "gunshots and… her screams." He closed his eyes as if trying to block out the memory.
"Solaris' screams?"
He opened his eyes and focused his gaze on Ed, head shaking slightly. "Both."
"Riza was hurt?!"
"No… no. I learned later that Solaris told her she killed me, that's why Riza's shots came out frantic and unfocused. At that time, all I knew was that I had to get to her; so I finished closing the wound, and… burned Solaris' knees enough to finally incapacitate her."
"So the scars…" Eyes wide, the child stared at Roy's right hand.
"Self-inflicted? Yes." He sighed, then gave a small smile. "But necessary at that time."
A few moments of silence passed between them before Ed finally said, "You need an extra pair of gloves." He couldn't tell the man to be careful, it was obvious Roy was as careless as can be. He also couldn't ask them to quit their jobs because based from the man's tale, he liked to help people.
He chuckled, hand rubbing the back of his neck. "Both Riza and I carry an extra pair now, after that debacle," he said, not divulging further the series of arguments they've had after he was discharged from the hospital, and how he almost gave up on his dream if it meant keeping Riza safe.
AN: It's probably best to mention now that the Ishvalan War of Extermination never happened in this AU. I might explore more of Roy and Riza's motivations (for the military and the adoption) in later chapters, but yeah… felt like I had to clear this up so that the Parental!RizaAl moment here makes more sense to those who might have gotten confused.
Also, I can't commit to a regular posting schedule yet because time isn't my friend. However, I plan to have a total of 23 one-shots for this (so this is 2 down, yayyyyy!) and I already have the rest kinda outlined. I promise to see this through (lol).
'Til next time!