AN: This chapter is a counterpart of the previous one (random scenarios in the Mustang/Elric family), with Riza as the focal point adjusting to her new role.
Hope you enjoy!
Bring a Knife to a Gunfight
Riza, with her hair in a haphazard bun, scrubbed the sink with an exhale. Her rings and dog tags clattered against her chest at the physical exertion. She had forgotten to deep clean the sink last month and now she was paying the price for twice as much grease and grime.
When he found out, Roy promised to buy dinner so she was grateful she didn't have to worry about that tonight on top of her greasy sink. She left the boys to their own accord before she undertook her current task.
She rinsed the soap off the corners and heard laughter from the living room. She was happy the boys got along well (on most days) and were capable of taking care of themselves. Mrs. Curtis even deemed them "responsible" recently and she didn't bother to hide her pride.
As the last of the bubbles drained away, she felt like she was reloading her gun for another round. She knew scrubbing once would not be enough and contemplated if she should take a break first.
Before she was able to make a decision, she heard something shatter followed by muffled crying.
She bit her lip, bracing herself for the inevitable.
"Mooooooom!"
Drying her hands by patting them against the front of her shirt, she went to the living room. By the fireplace, Ed and Al sat with Ed's hands pressed against Al's forehead. Al muffled his crying with his hands, the sound coming out like whimpers.
A shattered photo frame laid near them.
"What…" Her knees hit the floor as she pried Ed's hands away and saw blood, "happened?"
"His eye is… His eye… He bled."
"I'm - I'm sorry," forced Al, gasping for air to get the sentence out.
"Hush." Cooler heads prevail, she chanted to herself. Raising the boy's bangs away from his face, she tried to wipe away the blood with the pad of her thumb to see where it was coming from and how deep the wound was. Blood seemed to still be gushing, and the fact she can't see where it was coming from was worrisome.
"Ed, get the first aid kit underneath the sink." The one hidden in the common bathroom had a gun in it, so it was a good thing Roy suggested they have an extra first aid kit without a gun for the kids.
He stood, ready to comply when Riza's other hand yanked him by the back of his shirt. "Avoid the broken glass."
When he returned with what she asked for, going so far as tiptoeing around the living room, Riza wiped the blood off Al's forehead and eyelids with a pad. There she finally saw a cut as wide as her pinky finger on the arch of his left eyebrow.
She sighed, dabbing antiseptic on a cotton bud. "Close your eyes," she told Al, pressing the cotton bud on the cut.
The boy hissed, grabbing her arm to stop her.
"It'll be over soon." She wriggled her arm free then stuck a folded gauze pad over the wound, taping it across. She sighed, her butt hitting the floor.
"Now," she said, gathering up the used items and bundling them together, "you can tell me how it happened." Reaching over Ed's hand, she used her shirt to wipe off the stray blood still there.
"We were running," Ed grimaced, "and he bumped the fireplace and the photo fell. Sorry," he muttered, eyes downcast.
"Sorry," echoed the younger Elric, fingers reaching for the photo that popped out of the broken frame.
Riza slapped his hand away, causing him to jolt. Hadn't she just warned Ed about the broken glass? Did Al not hear her?
"Sit on the couch. Both of you." She took the first aid kit and the bundled things, returning the former to its place under the sink and throwing the latter in a nearby bin. She returned to the living room with a broom and dustpan and swept the glass and the wooden frame.
"Nobody is allowed to go barefoot until tomorrow." She bent down, picking up the photo and shaking it in the air to allow whatever debris that was left to fall.
The boys remained silent.
"Ed, Al," she called, urging them to look at her, "Do you understand? No one is allowed to go barefoot or sit on the floor until tomorrow."
"We could fix it with alche - "
"No," she cut Ed off, then explained, "the risk you run when dealing with broken glass is not worth it."
"Yes, mom."
"Sorry." Al extended his arms up, trying to reach for the photo in her hands. She handed it to him.
The boy stared at the photo, the guilt settling in the pit of his stomach like a ton of bricks.
Compared to Winry's previous and current homes, and even the Elrics' old home, the Mustang/Elric home had the least number of photographs on display. There were only three in total around the entire house, all placed on a ledge above the fireplace in matching photo frames.
The Elric boys knew from the beginning that the couple deemed those photos as exceptional to be put on display like that, even if they didn't fully understand why.
The first photo was of Roy and Riza in front of military headquarters, together with General Grumman, Aunt Rebecca, Uncle Maes, and the rest of the Mustang Team all clad in their military uniforms, with Aunt Gracia and Madame Christmas in civilian clothes. The boys assumed it was a regular workday, with Aunt Gracia and the madame visiting at the same time by coincidence.
The second photo was of the Mustang/Elric family on their front porch.
The third and final one, the one whose frame broke, was of Roy and Riza in their military uniforms with Riza holding a file in her hand. Roy was grinning from ear to ear while the blonde had a rare blush gracing her cheeks.
"I'm not a fan of that photo," said Riza, squeezing herself between Ed and Al on the couch, "but Roy insisted." She chewed on her lip to stop the laugh that threatened to burst forth. He even asked Maes to make multiple copies 'in case Riza throws it out'.
"Why does he like that one?" As far as Ed was concerned, it looked like any other day at the office with his adoptive parents in their uniforms.
"Oh, those two," she raised a pointer finger to the other photo with them and their teammates then pointed at the photo in Al's hands, "were taken on our wedding day."
"Impossible!" Al frowned. The recesses of his memory digging up how his birth mother was dressed in a beautiful white dress on her wedding day photo and even their absentee father looked like a million cens in his suit.
"No wonder you don't like it. He's cheap."
"It's not that." She patted their heads. "He planned a wedding," she huffed, "we were supposed to hold it in the madame's house back in the East before we moved here, but we got called to help on a mission. It lasted longer than it should… and by the time it ended, Roy was already antsy about moving to Central."
She eased the photo off of Al's hands and handed it to Ed. "Since he didn't want to move into this house unmarried, we filled up the forms on the train and went to Central HQ. Our team was only supposed to report that we arrived already, but he dragged me to the Fraternization Records Office after. Those are the forms in my arms."
"You got married at the office?" The older Elric tossed the photo back at Riza in disgust.
She smiled at the memory of Roy running around the halls to look for an officiant. "We did. It was one of the best days of my life."
"And we broke it… We're really sorry."
"You broke the frame," she corrected, "But since we're still digesting what happened… No more running inside the house, okay?"
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It was time for the military officers' annual assessment, so Roy and Riza didn't have to go to work unless it was their schedule for assessment. After sending the boys to school, they went for a grocery run then fooled around like a couple of teenagers on summer break.
"We have to put away the groceries," said Riza, her finger poking Roy's bare chest. They lounged on their bed, with her arm resting over his body.
He yawned. "Maybe it's time for the boys to learn how to put away the groceries."
"Ed can't quite reach the top cupboard yet."
Roy snickered.
"And if you ask Al to do it," she continued, her finger tracing circles on his chest, "Ed would definitely throw a fit."
"Mm." He caught her finger and planted a kiss on it. He rolled, taking her finger and pulling her arm to the side so he could hover over her. "Give me a few more minutes." He lowered his head to plant a kiss on her lips then pulled their blanket away to reveal her half-naked form.
"We're home!" the couple heard from the front door.
"Ugh." His back landed on the sheets with a soft thud. To continue what he wanted to do with Riza now would be crazy with a capital C.
She pulled herself up to sit, focus shifting from her husband's body to finding her shirt and lounge pants. When she put her clothes back on, she patted Roy's knee. "I'll give you, uh…" her gaze dropped to the slight bulge in his pants, "a minute."
"Not funny," he grumbled when Riza left and closed their bedroom door.
Riza caught the boys on the kitchen floor, rummaging through the paper bags. "Welcome home."
"Mom, what are these?"
She noticed the groceries were lined up on the kitchen counter, classified based on which drawer or shelf they belonged to. That definitely made things easy for her. "Thank you for lining these up," she acknowledged.
"What are these?" repeated Ed, holding up an opened package the size of his hand. It was blue with a large flower on the side and pictures of stick-like things on the center. The boy pulled one of the wrapped sticks out.
Al sat beside him, another opened pack with him. This time, it was black with colorful stars and dots. He pulled a similarly wrapped item from the packaging. "It looks like pop's wallet."
She stiffened when she noticed they had opened her pack of tampons and sanitary napkins. "You classify them as non-food," was her answer. That was safe, right?
"What kind of non-food?" Al sniffed the wallet-like item in his hand and Riza withheld a wince.
"They're the only ones we don't know where to line up." Ed returned the stick thing inside its packaging. "Do they go together in the same drawer?"
"Yes," replied Riza, kneeling on the floor in front of them. "They're my personal non-food."
Al pressed the flat-covered thing to his face. "Make-up?"
"No." Riza held the napkin away from her son's face.
"Hey! Welcome ho…" Roy trailed off when he spotted Ed with a pack of tampons and Al and Riza holding a napkin near the boy's cheek. "... home?"
The blonde turned to her husband in a mix of embarrassment and a silent cry for help.
He cleared his throat, looking for a way to change the boys' focus. "If I help with the groceries, we'll finish faster."
"Pop, what are these?"
"Where does your personal non-food go, mom?"
… He should have known better. "They go to our bathroom," he answered first, buying time, then sat down on the floor with his wife and helped reclaim the pack of sanitary napkins from Al. "Only certain people use those products, that's why they're your mom's non-food."
"What are they for?" Ed gave Roy the pack of tampons.
"You've studied human anatomy…" Riza smacked the back of his head. "Ow!" He looked at her.
She stared at him with wide eyes. They agreed they wouldn't talk about sex unless necessary.
He rubbed the spot she slapped. "Winry will have hers eventually." So if not now, when?
Their ears perked up at the sound of their friend's name. "Winry will have what?"
Riza took a deep breath, deciding she should initiate the conversation. "Either of these, or both. Those are called tampons," she pointed to the pack Ed previously held, then at the one she settled in front of her, "These are called sanitary napkins. When a girl reaches a certain age, she will need these."
"Need them for what?"
"How old?"
"It depends on the girl. I had to use those 'early', as other people told me."
"How old were you?" amended Ed.
"I was 10." When the boys visibly realized that was the same age as Winry's, Riza sped up her explanation, "These are private, personal objects. Not everyone will be comfortable talking about them."
"And they certainly won't leave it out in the open for the world to see and ask about," piped in Roy, knowing the boys' tendency to be curious will be their downfall if they approach the topic with a young girl like Winry the way they approach alchemic questions.
"What do you use them for?"
"They go in the underwear because…" she stared up at the ceiling and scrunched her face. Then, she returned her focus to the boys. "Because every now and then, usually once a month, I bleed."
"From the vagina," her husband added.
"Roy," she groaned, feeling a migraine coming on.
"We know what the vagina is, mom," said Ed, offended she would assume they didn't know. Their teacher told them they were quite ahead in knowledge for boys their age.
A dumb-sounding "What?" escaped her lips before she remembered what kind of kids they adopted.
Roy placed his hand on her thigh and squeezed. Think of this as a science. He knew the boys, bless their souls, already read about the vagina and the penis without having yet the adult sensibilities after they've processed the information.
Riza's eyes flicked to her husband then back at the Elric brothers.
"The regular bleeding is normal and the process is called menstruation," explained Roy, knowing his wife needed a minute.
Right. She centered herself. "So I have menstruation every month," she withheld a wince, "And in order for it not to leak out, I need tampons or sanitary napkins. Like gauze pads."
Al shuddered at the visual. "It's a lot of blood?"
"Yes, but it's not a wound," she said, knowing the younger Elric was recalling the time his brother needed stitches, "So it usually isn't painful."
Roy scoffed. She definitely knew how to downplay it. Ever since he's known her and her immensely high threshold for pain, the fact that her menstrual cramps sometimes led to her fainting meant she underwent the worst kinds of pain during that time of the month.
Ed narrowed his eyes, catching on to their adoptive father's reaction.
"Usually," emphasized Riza, rolling her eyes. "I take pain medication," she assured him.
"What's the difference between that one and that one?" Ed pointed at the tampon pack and the napkin pack. "You use them together?"
"Me? No." She paused, thinking maybe it was possible for others to use them together. "It depends on the person. I alternate my usage."
"Depending on the blood?" Al paled.
She returned the packs to the paper bag and set them aside. "Yes, and time of day."
Roy reached for the paper bag and stood, knocking on his legs as he did. "I'll put these in the bathroom. Come on," he beckoned for the boys, "I'll show you where."
They followed his lead.
She leaped to her feet. "Wait, Roy, I can -"
"Ri," he let slip his rarely used nickname for her, "The boys need to learn before the stigma catches up to them."
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Riza straightened her back more when she spotted Al seated by a bench in front of her usual shooting stall.
"Al?" Her boots stopped short before the bench.
He looked up at her with a sheepish smile.
"Do you need a ride home?" She turned the way she came. She could schedule her shooting practice some other day.
"No!"
"Hmm?"
"I… I-" He stood, hands clasped together in front of his chest, "Can you teach me how to shoot?" He paused, then said, "Please?" in an almost whispering tone.
His demeanor and stance told her two things: Al didn't want to go home yet and the boy went out of his way to meet her here to escape from something under the guise of asking her to teach him how to shoot.
"What age did I say again?"
"13," he mumbled, knowing he still had a few months to go.
She unholstered her personal gun, a .38 caliber, and took the bullets out. In her years with the Elric brothers, she realized she wasn't the type of 'mother' to automatically refuse a request. "Alright, Al," she said. The sooner she figured out why he suddenly wanted to rush his shooting lessons, the better.
Once she double-checked the gun was empty; she walked to her usual stall and shot a whole round, the gun coming up with empty clicks. "Come here."
He stood next to her, the top of his head just shy of her shoulder.
She stole a final glance at his face and only saw grim determination etched on it. She offered the gun to him, her fingers holding the barrel.
He reached out, his resolve giving way for tentative fingers.
Thinking he was backing out, Riza's hand jerked as if about to re-holster it. Al grabbed hold of the gun before she fully retrieved it.
Blinking as she willed her composure back, she directed Al how to hold the item.
He mimicked the way she held her gun, legs apart and arms straight in front of him. Fingers on the barrel, instead of on the trigger.
"Don't be so tense," she instructed, her boot tapping against the side of his foot to guide his legs closer together. "Okay, good. Here." She produced one bullet from her pocket and loaded it in the gun still held by the boy. When she clicked it close, she pointed at the target. "Look at the center circle. That's the chest," she paused as if to prepare for the shot herself, "Fire when ready."
The sharp bang thundered, seemingly shaking her scalp to the tips of her toes. Did her gun always reverberate that way?
Al squeezed his eyes closed at the sound, his hands jolting to the side.
"Never," she poked the spot between the boy's eyebrows, "Never take your eyes off the target. You are responsible for everything that happens once you pull the trigger."
"Mmf." He dropped the gun on the stall's ledge. "Sorry, mom."
"It's not a bad shot considering you closed your eyes. Beginner's luck?" She squinted at where the bullet landed. "That's a 4 out of 10 for the chest."
She retrieved the gun and loaded two more bullets in. "With practice, I'm sure you'll -"
"I don't want anymore." He raised his shaking hands up at his line of vision. Guns were scarier than he thought. They never seemed to make that much noise whenever his mom used them.
Her relief was difficult to smother as she holstered the gun.
"I'm not good at anything." He walked over to a bench and sat down with a huff.
She pursed her lips at the boy's complete 180. "Al," she slid her hand down his back as she took a seat. "What's up?"
"I thought about doing something different," his eyes strayed to the side to meet her gaze then diverted.
"Different?" When his shoulders slumped further at her query, Riza couldn't believe how significantly smaller he looked. "What do you mean?"
"I don't think alchemy's for me."
Where was this coming from? "But you're good at it," she blurted out, then added, "I thought you love alchemy."
"I'm not… sure. Not anymore." He mumbled, "It will make sense once everything is done."
"Do you want to tell me what happened?" While the pre-teen's words and actions failed to make sense to her, she had to keep her head on straight and try to keep up. Psychological resilience was, after all, one of the skills she had to learn in the military.
"Brother is much better than me in alchemy. He can have it."
She stared at him as a pout was seen on his face, looking petulant. Ed can have alchemy? She tried to piece the puzzle together, as if alchemy was something that could be concretely and singularly held and acquired. However, she had to take his lead to truly get to the bottom of this. "You can't have it together? Like, share alchemy?"
"I'll be dead weight because I'm not as good as him if we share. He's always been good, better. It's okay!" He added as an attempt to end the conversation, "I'm okay with it."
She bit her lower lip and looked at the shooting stalls, stopping herself from sighing. Insecurity, she realized was the cause of all this. "Al," she said, not looking at him and focusing on the view of the shooting stalls.
The boy peered at her, curious as to what she was staring at.
"You know I used to miss my shots?" She stood from the bench and looked around if they had company in the shooting range. When determined there was no one else, she told him, "This is dangerous and you shouldn't do this. Ever."
She drew the gun Al had used earlier and aimed to the right. She shot at the stall beside the one they used. The latter flinched when the gun had been fired right in front of his brows. "See," she hid the gun again, "I used to miss so bad. Like that." She pointed at the target of the other stall.
"You hit the bullseye, mom!" he protested.
"Did I?" She tilted her head when she sat back down beside him, her golden gaze shining in mischief. "But isn't that supposed to be my target?" Her finger moved to point at the stall directly in front of them, the one where Al had landed his bullet before giving up.
He blinked at where her finger was pointed then strayed to stare at the other stall and back again, mentally calculating the wide distance. "Oh. That bad?" he acknowledged.
She nodded. "But I kept at it. Partly because I had nothing else to do," she smothered a laugh at the memory of her sad past, "and partly because I…" she paused, realizing the truth had the funniest way of revealing itself now, "I loved it."
"Not anymore," muttered Al, sulking.
"Not anymore," she repeated firmly. "If you count the years I've been using and practicing guns, I mean, won't it be embarassing if I still sucked?" She used to think it was because she had no other choice; but looking back at it now, there was pride in her skills as she developed it over the years and had moved to using bigger and more powerful guns. "And I still practice when I can," she added as an afterthought.
When silence stretched on, Al still clearly sulking about the issue of Ed being better at alchemy, Riza proposed, "I suspect it's the same with alchemy."
Al opened his mouth to protest again, his brows furrowing at her and his jaw tight.
Riza beat him to it and said, "Think about it. Ed's older, right?"
His lips closed together.
"Even Roy. I mean, your pop, his alchemy wasn't that clean at your age."
Al's fighting aura didn't taper. "But I bet you already knew he'd be great at it."
She clicked her tongue and shook her head. "Hmm… Not really. Father insisted on teaching him the mere basics for years. It drove Roy mad." She believed in him partly due to her early attraction for his charm, but she couldn't equate that to immediately knowing Roy would turn out to be the alchemist he was now. "He kept at it, the same way I did."
She leaned back and threw a knowing glance his way. "Now we're ways away from when we were 12, aren't we?"
He nodded, her words simmering in his brain as they gathered into something cohesive enough for his annoyance and anger to blow over. Whether it was intentional or not, his lips eventually curled into a smile.
Riza shuddered. Was this a preview of what was to come in his adolescent mood swings?
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It was one of the nights that left an indelible stain in Riza Mustang's memory. It was the night that tattooed the sentence, "The madame was kind enough to send us oysters," as her famous last words before disaster struck.
Her chosen dish was simple: oyster stew. She wanted to trick Ed into drinking milk and mixing it in with oysters and vegetables seemed like a good idea (at the time) to throw the boy off.
It was difficult keeping her grin in-check when Ed reached for the ladle for his third serving.
"You okay, kid?" asked Roy, eyeing Al. The younger Elric was the opposite of his brother: quiet, unmoving except for the hand moving back and forth against his stomach.
"Mm-hmm," he lied, nodding his head. "I think… I'll go to the bathroom." He scooted off his seat and left. Roy went after him, patting Riza's shoulder along the way.
A sinking feeling she couldn't place settled at the pit of her stomach when she saw the half-eaten second serving on Al's bowl. She chose to ignore it in the meantime, waiting for Ed to finish his meal.
The boy tilted the bowl to his mouth, slurping as he finished the contents. "Can I get that?" He pointed at Al's bowl.
She nodded, piling hers, Ed's, and Roy's empty bowls on top of another.
"Riza, can I have the medicine box?" came Roy's voice from the common bathroom.
To Ed, who was slurping away at his brother's bowl, it seemed like the man's voice was calm and even. To Riza, who all but jumped out of her seat and ran to the master bedroom for the requested item, she heard the voice of her commanding officer looking after an injured comrade.
She arrived at her husband's side.
"Thanks," he muttered, settling and opening the box on top of the sink. He pulled a wrapped pill from it and gave it to Al.
She squeezed her way into the bathroom and squatted in front of Al, who sat on top of the toilet cover with his shirt half-raised, showing her his torso that was all sorts of shades of red.
"Eat this like candy," ordered Roy, giving Al the tablet. The latter complied, chewing on it then swallowing with an audible gulp.
"Let's get you water and don't scratch too hard." She pulled the boy's shirt down. "Sit on the sofa for now so we can keep an eye on you."
They filed out of the bathroom with Al going one way and the couple returning to the kitchen. They spotted Ed, his back hunched over the kitchen sink, running water flowing onto his open mouth.
Roy ran back to the bathroom to get another pill for the older Elric.
Riza rubbed the boy's back. "What's wrong?"
His mouth hung open and while he spoke to her, his lips never touched each other. "Mah-yy tongue…" he said, temporarily lifting his head away from the faucet, "feelssh heavy."
She took two glasses and filled them with water.
"Eat this," said Roy, giving the same tablet he gave Al earlier.
"Sit beside Al in the living room." Riza pointed to the door. "You two drink this," she gave him the glasses.
Once Ed was out of the kitchen, Roy held Riza's upper arm. "Twenty minutes?" He squeezed. "Before we take them to the hospital?"
"Ten," she replied, glancing at the clock above the stove. She moved away from his hold and gathered the bowls and utensils they used for dinner in the hope that it will help her focus. She returned to the sink, letting water run on the dishes.
Roy wordlessly helped, transferring the leftover stew in the refrigerator.
"You didn't know. No one knew," he said, breaking the silence.
"Shh," she let out under her breath, closing her eyes.
He stood at her side and faced her, turning off the faucet. "Riza."
Even with her eyes closed and her forcing her consciousness to the other room, she knew how close he was to her. She knew he knew it too, but stubbornly refused to open her eyes.
"Riza." He eased his hand on her wrist. "What's that thing you always tell me?"
She scoffed and rolled her eyes.
He smiled when he finally saw her golden irises. "That's a problem with a solution."
"Ugh." That didn't ease her worry.
"This is a problem with a solution." He pulled her wrist enough for her body to face him too. "I gave them meds already so it's a matter of waiting now, right?"
She eyed him through her lashes, thankful for the height difference.
"It's a problem with a solution," he whispered again.
She hung her head low and knocked her forehead against his chest. She hadn't been ready when her mother died, or when her father had treated her as dispensable, or when they jumped the gun and adopted the Elric brothers… but she thanked her lucky stars she could always draw strength for him the same way he drew strength from her.
AN: Remembering my childhood this way made me realize my mom is a superhero for putting up with us the way she did. Haha omg.
'Til next time!