AN: I envisioned this chapter with Ed and Al at 16 and 15 years old, respectively, so they're a bit more grown up than they are in the other chapters.

Hope you enjoy!

Fight the Good Fight

"Mom, what the fuck?!"

Riza glared at Ed, which froze the teenager in his tracks. "Language." Even if she was chained to her hospital bed, she would not hesitate to slap him upside the head for that foul tongue. "Sit down."

He huffed to hide his embarrassment but did what he was told. "Where's pop?"

"He went South to finish booking the guy we were chasing. And Al?"

"With Mr. Curtis." He narrowed his eyes. "Why did you go to work today?"

She shrugged. "I felt fine."

"Your standards versus the doctor's standards of fine are widely different, then."

She forced a smile at him, hoping to ease his worry with the knowledge his caustic tongue was the way he hid his concern. "This is nothing. They're discharging me as we speak." She was careless today, fainting in the middle of the corridor with a wide range of spectators; so whatever stories Ed heard on the way would have been exaggerated.

"Nothing compared to what he puts you through," he mumbled. Despite the years having caught on them and his admiration of his adoptive father, he still resented what he believed was Riza's blind devotion.

She schooled her expression. "Ed." He knew better than to blame Roy for what happened to her today. One of the first things they were taught in training was if one starts to feel faint, that person should sit down and secure their head. Today was her fault.

He met her gaze head on. "So why did you go to work today?" he asked again.

As was her realization all these years, it was better to answer Ed's questions without mincing words. "Roy had a lead on this guy. Two snipers are better than one."

"Even if you were dizzy when you woke up?"

Who told you that? But she knew better than to ask it out loud at the risk of sounding defensive. "I stood up too quickly this morning."

He scoffed. "I wonder which will get you killed faster: your loyalty or your stubbornness?"

"You ever believe in someone so much you never think it's an option?" Riza's face blanked, her lips set on a thin line. "It's not wrong to fight for what you believe in. It's not the first time I got sick or hurt and it won't be the last, but we'll get through it like we always do."

No, but… The teen grit his teeth. He knew that, of course. He and Al got used to seeing either Riza or Roy going home with a new injury. What he can't fathom is why. He knew they were doing what they think is best for them, and what they think is best for the greater good. But is it really worth the self-sacrifice? Did his adoptive parents think they can do this forever? They were not getting any younger.

There might come a day they won't get out of a mission with only some 'minor' injury… There might come a day they won't come home at all and he shuddered to think his adoptive mother was pushing her luck too far.

/-/ /-/ /-/ /-/

"I'm home," called out Roy as he discarded his boots by the doorway and slipped into his comfortable pair of house slippers. He checked the clock and saw it was a few minutes past the boys' curfew, which meant Riza was -

"Shh."

He smirked. The mild scolding came from the living room. "Hello," he said when he sat beside her on the couch after placing a kiss on her temple.

"Hmm."

Roy clicked his tongue. He knew that sound. "Ed gave you a tough time today?" He had no choice but to ask the hospital to call in Ed while he and the rest of the team nabbed their crook.

"It's so hard to think they're growing up." She viewed her husband from the corner of her eye. "He tried to scold me today."

He crossed his arms. "Well, I'd scold you too."

"But you're my husband, he's my…" she cleared her throat, "son." The word oddly remained familiar, yet foreign at the same time.

"He means well." Despite the rough behavior, Ed was a typical elder sibling - the burden of being a good example to Al weighing heavy on his shoulders, with the hidden desire to make them proud in everything that he did topped off with overall concern for his family at all times. In being so, he was not as accustomed to showing affection as Al.

Her nose wriggled. "I know."

/-/ /-/ /-/ /-/

Ed found Riza at the shooting range inside military headquarters. With their adoptive parents' positions, he and Al were able to acquire military passes which allowed them to enter and exit HQ without a problem. Originally, they only wanted the passes to gain access to the military library without having to contact Roy or Riza every time; but now, it served as access to the hospital too for when either of them get injured or the range or office if they wanted to hitch a ride home.

As expected during this time of day, his adoptive mother was in her favorite booth at the range. Ed stayed a good distance away, enough for him to see her, but not enough for her to know she had company. He and Al learned the hard way, a couple of times, that Riza had a certain distance radius for sensing people.

He observed her empty a round of bullets, then reload, and do the same routine all over again.

Her voice pierced through his musings. "You ever believe in someone so much you never think it's an option?"The teen shook his head, refocusing his attention on his mother shooting yet another round of bullets. It is impossible to trust in someone that much, and even if it was, trusting someone won't stop something from hurting a person.

Unbidden, his memory pulled her voice again, "Trust is an art more than a science."

His fists clenched at his sides. Even if she did believe a lot in her husband, even if she trusted him more than her own voice telling her a different thing, what makes her so sure she was fighting a winning battle by following him?

"Hey."

Ed nearly tripped on his own feet as he backed away from Riza's palm on his shoulder. "M-mom." He had a fleeting thought that his theory about her 'distance radius' was off.

"I'm pretty sure you're not here to ask about guns." Between the two boys, Al had been the one more curious about her arsenal.

"I wanted to see if you were okay."

"I appreciate your concern, really, but it was just an off day," she tapped his elbow, "Let's go home."

"An off day in the endless days." He grit his teeth, unable to contain the question any longer. "Why? Why are you still here?"

She clicked her tongue. "Your father and I have a job to do." The side of her lip curled up. "Pay the bills."

"No," he exhaled with more force than was necessary, avoiding eye contact, "I mean here in the military. You're not getting any younger and you… haven't you done enough?" To be fair to their pop, a lot of good things occurred in the State Alchemist Program that it reportedly trickled down to the rest of the military. But wasn't that enough? What about one good deed creating a ripple and all those anecdotes their values education teacher kept on spouting when they were younger?

"You should've left when you had the chance," he spat out, allowing his emotions to take over. He knew he had to respect her decisions, her choices. He knew he should be happy their marriage was as intact as could be despite the imperfect set-up. But… But still…

"Edward." Riza eased a hand on the young man's shoulder. She poked his cheek with the same hand. "Come on. Let me show you something." She led him to the mezzanine overlooking the range where a lone window stood at the far corner. "Do you see that platoon?"

He nodded, following her line of sight. From the window, he saw a group of soldiers on the ground doing drills, their Commanding Officer audibly barking orders.

"Let's say everyone in that platoon thinks they have, in your words, 'done enough' and quit right there. What do you think would happen?"

"The… platoon won't have soldiers?"

"Once everyone else agrees with them and thinks they've done enough, what do you think would happen to a military government without soldiers?"

He furrowed his brows. That's impossible. There were always men and women, either desperate or idealistic, signing up to be soldiers.

Riza nudged his side. "Humor me."

"No one would be left to do soldiers' tasks like keeping an eye on people."

She smirked. "I'm not as intelligent as your father, or you and Al. I have no great destiny etched somewhere because I can't do alchemy. I'm just…" she sighed, "me, like everyone else. Normal. Ordinary."

Ed would beg to differ, but refused to correct her. To call Riza Mustang 'ordinary' was the lie of all lies. The woman had one of the highest shooting accuracy rates in the entire military, after all.

"But we all have something to do while we're alive, you know? You alchemists are 'there for the people', but the people have to help themselves too."

"I suppose this is the part you tell me we all have a role to play in this circle of life." He turned away from the window and looked at her. "I refuse to think your role is to be reduced as a shadow of pops, though."

"I understand why you think that, but I chose this, you know?"

Oh, Ed knew. He definitely knew. It didn't mean he won't question it though. "You're a strong woman." He shook his head. "Why?"

"Your pops is trying to do good, and fortunately or unfortunately, there is no end to that."

He tilted his head, processing her words. Fighting an endless fight sounds exhausting.

"It's never going to be 'enough'," she paused, mulling over her next words carefully, "because we both are fighting the good fight." The teen had to understand even if it was Roy's plan, Roy's goals and ideals, she was a willing participant in all of this. She was neither a victim nor a mere follower, she was a fighter.

AN: I have a reignited respect for FF writers. I don't know how they can regularly post and update their multi-chapter works.

Anyway, I hope everyone is keeping safe and sane in this trying time.

'Til next time!