Tea and Sympathy

"When the chips are not exactly down but just scattered about, you discover who your real friends are."

~Richard Burton

Although they had shared classes and living quarters with her for over a year, Riza Hawkeye remained something of a mystery to the majority of her fellow cadets. With the exception of Catalina, very few of them knew anything about her at all. Her natural reserve and habitually impassive expression worked against her, leading some to believe she was cold or unfeeling or snobbish, where she was merely more adept at concealing her true emotions than they. More than one person had been surprised by the quiet kindness just beneath her stoic façade, and those few who saw her in the company of Rebecca Catalina were amazed by the warmth of her smile and the quickness of her wit. Though many soon realized that they had misjudged her, Hawkeye still wasn't the easiest person to get close to.

So one morning, when Catalina overheard a freshmen cadet telling his friend that Hawkeye-sempai was acting strange, she thought nothing of it.

At first.

But then Hawkeye didn't turn up at lunch. Rebecca shrugged off her uneasiness and sat at a table with some of the guys she knew from hand-to hand training. Riza would know where to find her when she came in. There was no reason to worry about her. And yet, Rebecca found herself scanning the dining hall every few minutes, too distracted to follow the thread of the conversation and swallowing her food without even tasting it.

Where on earth is she? Rebecca wondered. Could something have happened?

Telling herself that she was being ridiculous, Rebecca finally excused herself from the table and set out to search for her missing friend.

What, she can't skip one meal every once in a while? Rebecca asked herself as she marched down the hall. I'm not her mother, for pity's sake; her eating habits are none of my business. After all, a single unexplained absence didn't automatically mean Riza was sick or injured or lying dead in a ditch somewhere. Maybe she simply wasn't hungry. Or maybe she'd wanted a little time to herself; she'd told Rebecca before that she felt that way on occasion. She was probably just in her room, reading or napping or something.

Riza wasn't in her room.

And she wasn't lying sick in the infirmary.

She was neither working out in the gym nor squeezing in a bit of extra practice down at the firing range.

And none of their mutual acquaintance seemed to have seen her, either. But Rebecca was definitely NOT getting worried. Because there was nothing to be worried about.

She nearly skived off her afternoon class to keep on looking for Riza, once the lunch period ended. Communications was so dull that she rarely paid attention to the lectures, anyway, so it wasn't as though she'd miss much if she didn't go.

But then again, Riza never skipped any of her classes, and Comm was one of the few they had together. Surely she'd turn up there, with a totally normal, mundane reason to explain where she'd wandered off to. And then she'd take careful, copious notes (which she'd let Rebecca borrow later), while Rebecca doodled caricatures of their lecturer all over her own notes and teased the occasional smile out of her friend.

Rebecca sighed. And then grumbled a little. And finally, she joined the throng of cadets heading to Lecture Hall HH130.

Communications was one of the larger classes, and as such it was held in an enormous lecture hall with stadium-style seating. Riza had once referred to it as her favorite classroom, because it reminded her of a drawing she'd seen of an ancient Xerxesian amphitheater. Rebecca had laughed hysterically at the mental image of their instructor dressed in the traditional black and white robes purportedly worn by the Xerxesian performers. The man was certainly narcissistic enough to be an actor.

After a quick look around confirmed that Riza hadn't arrived before her, Rebecca dashed up the steps and chose a seat near the back. Wasn't Riza always reminding her that having the high ground was a tactical advantage?

She grew increasingly nervous with every passing moment, scanning each and every face as her fellow cadets trickled into the hall. By the time the final bell rang, signaling the beginning of class, Rebecca was beginning to actively panic. Because Major Heller had started the day's lecture, in that irritating, raspy voice of his, and Riza still hadn't arrived.

Just as she was formulating an escape plan, which may or may not have involved belly-crawling to an open window out of the Major's direct line of sight and shimmying down a drainpipe, the hallway door opened, drawing nearly every eye in the room. Hawkeye, looking very much alive and unharmed, though perhaps a bit pale, excused herself very quietly when Major Heller turned to see what everyone was looking at. Without another word, she handed him a note. He glanced at it briefly before nodding and directing her to take the empty seat in the front row, just to his left. Unfortunately for Rebecca, that particular seat was miles away from the spot she'd saved in the second to the last row.

The next hour was torturous.

From her vantage point, Catalina could only see the back of Hawkeye's head. And none of the people between them could even be trusted to pass a note with any degree of reliability. Every so often, Hawkeye would half turn her head as if she wanted to glance back over her shoulder, revealing a small sliver of her profile. She probably felt Rebecca's curious eyes burning a hole in the back of her head. Or maybe she was lonely sitting all by herself, too. This last thought made Rebecca smile, just a little. It was nice to imagine that her presence might be missed.

At long last, the Major wrapped up his dreary lecture and dismissed the class. Rebecca had bounded down the steps and wriggled her way into the row behind Riza's before most of the class had even registered the dismissal.

Ignoring the eye rolls and whispers from the group of girls sitting nearby, Rebecca flung her arms around Riza's neck from behind. Deviating from her usual passive acceptance of Rebecca's affectionate attack-hugs, Riza actually placed a hand over Rebecca's arms where they crossed over her collarbone, to hold them in place for a moment. And unless Rebecca was hallucinating, Riza leaned back against her as well, participating in the embrace to the extent that she was able.

Interesting.

"I swear that lecture was even worse than the usual. That man makes ninety minutes feel like ninety days," Rebecca whined, tightening her hold on Riza just a fraction before releasing her.

"I hope you at least took notes," Riza replied lightly, tilting her head back to meet Rebecca's eyes. "I might even have to borrow yours, this time." Rebecca clambered unceremoniously over the row of seats between them and slid down into the space beside her friend. Feigning annoyance, Rebecca sighed loudly while surreptitiously scanning Riza's face.

"I can't believe I actually had to pay attention to the lecture. Do you have any idea how painful that was?"

"I have a fair idea, yes," Riza replied, quirking her lips into a smile. But her face was still several shades too pale for Rebecca's peace of mind, and her amusement didn't quite reach her soft, sad eyes. Rebecca chose her next words carefully.

"Missed you at lunch today," she said. "I saved you one of those little quiche thingies you like, but then Stevens swiped it from my tray when I wasn't looking." Where were you?

"Never drop your guard," Riza said wryly. "Thanks for the thought, though. Tactics let out early today, and I wasn't very hungry, so I went out to get some fresh air instead."

As she'd first suspected, then. Riza had wanted some alone time, and sacrificed her lunch break to get it. Well, that was all right, but…if she'd gotten her hour of peace and quiet, then why did she still look so peaked? And what about that cadet who'd claimed that she'd been acting odd? There was something else going on, here.

"Must have been a pretty long walk if it made you late to class," Rebecca said, with what she hoped was a nonchalant air. "I was afraid you'd ditched without telling me."

"I wouldn't dream of it," Riza assured her. "And actually, I ran into Lt. Colonel Weston on my way back. She asked me to deliver some paperwork to the quartermaster's office for her. It took longer than I thought it would."

"She might have picked an errand girl who wasn't due in a class," Rebecca frowned.

"No, it was my own fault. I had trouble finding the office, at first. I must have circled the building twice."

"Lemme guess," Rebecca interrupted. "Is his office in that big white building by the library, the one with all the trees around it?"

"Yes, how'd you know?" Riza asked, mildly surprised.

"That damn place is like a maze. I've gotten lost there, too." Rebecca admitted. "Sorry, go on?"

"Well, since I was late arriving, I had to wait a few extra minutes for the ranking officer to come back down and sign the authorization forms, which I then had to take back to Lt. Colonel Weston."

"Geez, what a pain. Doesn't she have an aide?" Rebecca asked.

"Out sick," Riza explained, absently watching the last of their classmates file out of the lecture hall. "And I didn't really mind; it was a simple enough errand."

She really didn't seem to mind, Rebecca mused. So it wasn't the mild annoyance of running all around campus during her break that was bothering her, either.

"Fair enough," she said. "So how'd you get away with waltzing in here fifteen minutes late? Heller doesn't seem the type to take bribes…"

"I had a note," Riza explained, smiling faintly. "Since I'd done her a favor, Lt. Colonel Weston wrote me a pass to excuse me from attending Communications today."

"You mean you could have skipped it entirely? And gotten away with it?" Rebecca cried. "Then what on earth are you doing here?!"

"I thought it was better to suffer along with everyone else rather than mope around in my room by myself," she said. "Besides, who would have taken notes for you if I hadn't come?"

"You make an excellent point," Rebecca admitted. Mope around, huh? Ok, now she was getting somewhere. "I still can't believe Heller didn't give you one of his infamous speeches about the consequences of our actions," she added, shaking her head.

"I'm just lucky the Lt. Colonel outranks him, or I'd probably still be running laps as punishment for disrupting his class," Riza retorted, with almost her usual sass. Rebecca grinned.

"Hey, Comm's my last class for the day," Rebecca announced brightly. And she had the beginnings of a brilliant idea. "It's your last one too, right? Do you have any plans for the rest of the afternoon?"

"Not really, no," Riza said absentmindedly, gathering her notes into a neat pile.

"No?" Rebecca echoed, her grin turning cat-like.

"I mean, I was thinking about catching up on some reading," Riza added hurriedly, looking askance at Rebecca as if she feared being roped into some harebrained scheme. Rebecca stuck her tongue out at her.

"Well, I was thinking about heading downtown to do a bit of shopping," she said. "I really need some new stockings; my best pair suddenly sprouted a nasty run down the back. Plus I could use another lipstick. Apparently orange is back in fashion, heaven help us all. Want to come with? We can maybe grab an early dinner at one of those little cafés on the way back. Spare ourselves the tuna casserole on the menu tonight," she added, making a face.

Riza only hesitated for a moment.

"Sure, why not? If you're up for it, there's a new café on 5th I'd like to try."

Yes, I know, Rebecca thought.

Aloud, she simply said: "Perfect! Let's get going, then!"

The shops downtown were lively, teeming with University students and civilians who also seemed to have the afternoon free. The girls chatted lightly as they walked, alternating between teasing each other and discussing their earlier classes and classmates, since they hadn't had the opportunity to talk during lunch.

Riza was clearly making an effort to be her usual self. And if she didn't know Riza as well as she did, Rebecca might never have noticed the difference. But Riza's occasional silences were heavy, and her gentle laughter was just slightly forced. And when Rebecca dragged her into another random embrace, Riza submitted with a sad, soft smile and clung to her just a little more tightly than normal. Her eyes gave it away, Rebecca decided. There was something dark and painful lurking just beneath the surface of those pretty brown eyes, and it was something that Riza clearly wasn't ready to talk about just yet.

But this time, Rebecca was determined not to pry. Regardless of what had caused it, Riza was hurting. That was all that mattered, here. It would be pointless to ask if she was okay, because she obviously wasn't. If and when she was ready to talk about it, then Rebecca would be waiting. But for now, rather than push, Rebecca focused her efforts on cheering her friend up the best way she knew how: retail therapy.

"What about this one?" Rebecca asked innocently, holding up a perfectly hideous yellow and brown dress with puffed sleeves. Riza glanced up from the rack she'd been absently perusing and nearly choked.

"I realize I'm no fashion maven," she managed. "But I'm fairly certain that dress is a crime against humanity." Rebecca giggled and held it out in front of herself, twisting it this way and that.

"Isn't it horrible?" she said, laughing. "I don't think even I could make this look good. How do you suppose they get the sleeves like this?"

"I could explain the how, but not the why," Riza said, gingerly poking one. "Please tell me this isn't something women are wearing on purpose." Rebecca's laughter was infectious, and soon both girls were giggling, not deterred in the least by the shopkeeper's baleful glare. Rebecca appeased the woman's wrath by purchasing three blouses and a skirt that she didn't need before dragging Riza off to the next shop.

"What on earth are you going to do with that olive-green one?" Riza asked, as they entered the drugstore. "I thought you hated that color."

"I do! It makes my skin look ghastly—all yellow and sickly. But I could send it to my aunt as an early birthday gift," Rebecca explained, making a beeline for the candy-colored display of lipsticks and lip glosses.

"The same aunt who sent you the pink dress that you passed on to me?" Riza asked, trailing along after her.

"That's the one."

"And here I thought you liked her," Riza teased.

"That's the only reason I didn't buy her that canary yellow dress instead," Rebecca replied cheerfully. "Now here, what about this color?" she added, holding up a slim black tube.

"It's fine," Riza said automatically, without looking at it.

"You haven't even tried it!" Rebecca protested.

"Wait, you meant for me?" Riza asked, slightly alarmed. "You know I don't really…"

"Wear much makeup?" Rebecca supplied. "Yes, I know, but I'm not asking you to slather it on with a trowel the way our dear friend Scott does. We're talking about a little bit of lipstick!" she argued. Riza still looked doubtful. Rebeca sighed. "Look, just try it. It's a nice light one, very sheer. Hardly any color at all."

"Then what's the point?" Riza wondered aloud.

Rebecca ignored her. She turned her attention toward the clerk and bought the lipstick anyway, along with her own two lipsticks and the powder and mascara that the sales girl talked her into.

Thinking she'd escaped successfully, Riza was therefore unprepared for Rebecca's sneak attack. After a confused flurry of motion (where Rebecca used Riza's natural dislike of drawing unwanted attention to herself against her), Riza found herself blinking bemusedly into a mirror—at what, she wasn't certain.

"See? I told you; it's perfect for you," Rebecca was saying triumphantly. "Just a tiny bit of extra color and shine. And it's got all kinds of moisturizers and conditioners and what all else mixed in there, so it will keep your lips from getting chapped, too."

Riza finally realized she was meant to be forming an opinion on the lipstick that had just been forcibly applied. Studying her own reflection, she was surprised to find that Rebecca was right. It was a good color on her.

"It's…pretty," she admitted, flushing a bit at her own vanity. Rebecca beamed.

"Told ya," she retorted, pressing the tube into Riza's hands. "Pretty AND practical. No downside. Now come on, let's find this café of yours! If I'm getting hungry, then you must be absolutely famished, since you skipped lunch."

Riza's café turned out to be a frilly little tea shop rather than the sidewalk bistro Rebecca had been imagining. But she saw the way Riza's face brightened at the prospect of a fancy afternoon tea, and so she swallowed her objections and focused her attention on the menu.

By the time the waitress brought them a tray of delicate little tea sandwiches, Rebecca had laid all of her doubts to rest. The décor was a little on the fussy side, sure, with the lacey doilies, the floral motif on the porcelain tea service, and a general overabundance of the color pink. However, the blend of tea they'd chosen was brewed to perfection, the flavor smooth and faintly floral and unlike anything else Rebecca had tasted. And although she'd been wondering how a few prissy finger foods could satisfy anyone's appetite, the veritable mountain of cucumber, chicken salad, and egg salad sandwiches on the tray relieved her concerns on that front. She was actually a little shocked when the waitress returned a moment later with second tray, piled high with scones and delicate little bowls of jam and clotted cream and lemon curd.

"Wow, and here I'd been wondering whether I'd have to sneak into the kitchen tonight for some of that tuna casserole," she commented, awed. Riza smirked at her over the rim of her porcelain cup.

"Have you never had an afternoon tea before?" she asked.

"Nope, not like this. I mean, my mother's friends used to do a bridge club thing where they served tea and cucumber sandwiches, but they were nothing like these. Nor was the tea, come to that—always tasted like bitter, damp dog fur to me."

"No wonder you made that face when you saw the sign on the door," Riza chuckled. "I was about to suggest that we go someplace else, but then you marched right inside."

"Well," Rebecca squirmed a little. "I knew you'd been wanting to try this place, and I didn't want to ruin it for you. Plus I figured I owed you for all those times you've gone along to the bars with me without whining about it."

"Thank you," Riza said softly.

"Hm? Oh, well of course. I mean, like I said, you've gone along with my whims often enough," Rebecca started to say, as she bit into her second cucumber sandwich.

"No, I mean…thank you. Not just for this," Riza said, gesturing to the tea accoutrements between them. "But for all of it, the whole afternoon. I needed a bit of cheering up…and this has really helped."

"Y-you're welcome. I mean, what else are friends for, yeah?" Rebecca stammered, a little embarrassed at being caught out. She supposed she really shouldn't have been so surprised that Riza had noticed what she was trying to do—Riza Hawkeye was no one's fool.

The two girls ate in amiable silence for a few moments, until Rebecca happened to glance up and see the slightly pinched look back on Riza's face.

Well, that wouldn't do.

Carefully, Rebecca set her tea cup back in the saucer and folded her hands almost primly before her.

"Hey," she said softly, startling Riza into looking up at her. "Look, I know something's been bugging you, and maybe you'd rather not talk about whatever it is. But just so you know-I'm here to listen. Ok?"

Riza's eyes went suspiciously moist. Before Rebecca could have a panic attack over making her best friend cry, they were rescued by the waitress, who cheerfully delivered a fresh pot of tea and a small plate of exquisite little dessert tarts. By the time she'd gone, Riza had composed herself.

"I don't think I can eat another bite," she said ruefully, admiring the tiny lemon tarts. "But these are so pretty I can't bear to think of letting them go to waste."

"Oh, we're not letting these go to waste," Rebecca said, determined. "If they won't box them up for us, then I'm stealing one of these horrid pink napkins and sweeping the whole lot into my shopping bag before they can stop me. Except for this one. I'm eating this one," she added, popping a delicate raspberry tart into her mouth. She made an obscene noise in the back of her throat, and Riza tried and failed to hide a giggle. "Oh god," Rebecca moaned. "I'm gonna make myself sick, and I don't even care."

"I guess just one wouldn't hurt," Riza mused, plucking a lemon tart from the tray and biting into it delicately. "Well, damn," she murmured a moment later.

"What's the matter?" Rebecca asked, concerned. Riza just sighed.

"These taste better than I thought they would," she said sorrowfully. "And I'm too full to eat another one." Rebecca snickered.

"So, hey, have you been to a place like this before?" she asked.

"Mm, no, not to an actual tea shop," Riza replied thoughtfully. "But there were a few women back home who liked the tradition of afternoon tea. It was usually much simpler fare, just sandwiches and tea. But they went all out for Sunday afternoons, baking little popovers and cakes and things the day before as a special treat for the end of the week. And then, after…" she trailed off, and a crease appeared between her brows.

"After?" Rebecca prompted softly, aware that she was perilously close to dangerous territory. Damn those expressive eyes of hers, she thought, watching Riza's face carefully.

"After my father died," Riza said quietly, toying with her teacup. "They started to make more of an effort to include me. Feeding me was their way of showing that they cared, I suppose. Suddenly I was being invited to afternoon tea almost every other day, rather than just every now and then. You know," she laughed a little. "It's just occurred to me that they must have had some sort of schedule worked out between them, because it was a different family asking me each time, and never more than one at a time."

"They sound like some pretty amazing people," Rebecca said. She'd slipped her hand across the table and curled her fingers around Riza's without even consciously choosing to do so. Riza, looking down at their joined hands, just smiled.

"They are," she said simply. And then she looked directly into Rebecca's eyes. "I'm very grateful to have friends like that."

"The kind who like to stuff you full of tea and cake on a regular basis?" Rebecca said lightly, even as warmth flooded her chest.

"The kind who can tell that I'm feeling low, and do their level best to cheer me up," Riza replied. "The kind who can almost make me forget why today's date is significant."

An anniversary, then. A birthday or a date of death, maybe. The specific event, and whether it was her mother's or her father's, didn't really signify—the point was that something had happened on this date that made Riza sad to think about, and she was willingly sharing that information with Rebecca. Also, Rebecca realized with a start, she was declaring that the efforts to cheer her up had not been entirely in vain.

"Oh? So the kind that really love you, then," Rebecca said, squeezing Riza's hand gently. "And who know that you'd do the same for them in a heartbeat, if the tables were turned."

"I would, yes," Riza affirmed, blushing a little bit. Both girls were silent for a slightly awkward moment, as each grappled with her own flood of emotions which seemed far too sentimental and foolish to express aloud. "I'm sorry; I didn't mean to get all sappy on you," Riza finally added with a nervous little smile.

"Don't be sorry. I promise not to hold it against you," Rebecca said, still feeling oddly shy herself. "Hey, you know what always cheers me up when I'm having a crappy day?" she asked, perking up. "New shoes."

"The ridiculously impractical ones that make your feet ache just looking at them?" Riza replied, smiling a little more naturally now that the awkward moment had passed.

"Yes! Especially those!" Riza pretended to consider the point, tapping a finger against her chin.

"Well, you do make a compelling argument," she said, amused. "So…shall we hit up one last shop before we head back?"

"Excellent plan. Oh, hey! Betsy's is open for another hour. If we hurry, we can burn off some of the calories we've just consumed AND still have time to try on the really expensive heels that we'll never actually be able to afford."

"Speak for yourself," Riza said archly. "I haven't just spent my entire monthly allowance on makeup and low-cut blouses. Maybe I can finally get those red and black ruched-satin peep-toe stilettos we've been talking about."

"You wouldn't!" Rebecca gasped, scandalized. "I've been drooling over those shoes for weeks!"

"I'll let you borrow them, sometime," Riza said breezily. "Maybe. If I'm feeling generous."

"So cruel!" Rebecca wailed, slumping dramatically in her seat. "What if I promise to do all your laundry for a month?" she cried, sitting bolt upright again. "No, two months! I'll make your bed every morning! I'll give you all of my desserts at every meal!"

Riza's soft laughter was music to Rebecca's ears, and she threw out the most outrageous bargaining chips she could think of, just to hear it again.

And when they finally left the café (in possession of a small paper box containing the leftover tarts, to Rebecca's delight), Riza turned to her friend with a smile so bright and so warm that Rebecca's heart's skipped a beat in reflexive joy.

There's my girl, she thought, beaming back at her. The little wisps of sadness and pain would probably always be there, lurking just beneath the surface. But as long as it was within her power to do so, Rebecca silently vowed that she would make sure Riza remembered to keep on smiling, too.

Because that's what friends did for each other.

A.N. It's funny how more and more of my own personal life creeps into this fic...I've somehow managed to sneak in allusions to my alma mater, a very dear old professor of mine, a much coveted pair of shoes belonging to my flatmate, and even a recent baby shower. Thanks for all the reviews and follows and favorites, everyone! As always, feedback is very deeply appreciated! :D

xoxo Janie