I do not own FMA. Enjoy!

"Riza!"

Eleven year old Riza Hawkeye jumped as her father's bellow resonated through the house, his impatient tone making just the slightest bit of fear settle into the pit of Riza's stomach. It was hard for Riza to believe that there had been a time when she didn't associate her father's room with bad memories, when being called in there didn't mean being the victim of her father's vituperation. Now, it seemed that the only time he ever paid her any mind was when he was yelling at her for things that she may or may not have done. Riza hurriedly left her room and started the short walk to her father's room, trying to think of anything she might've done that would warrant his aggresive tone and volume. Running her activities over twice and finding nothing, Riza took a deep breath and walked into his room, closing the door quietly behind her with a slightly shaking hand.

Surprisingly, Riza didn't find her father hunched over his desk, scribbling onto one of his many pieces of paper. Instead, she found him standing near a small work bench that, while it had once had pots of ink and other miscellaneous items stacked and stored on top of it, was now cleared off, something that raised the young girl's suspiscions. He gave her a faint smile and spoke again, this time in a softer, yet still commanding, tone.

"Come over here, Riza."

Hesitantly, Riza walked toward her father, the small smile adorning his features unsetteling her in a way that she didn't understand until she was older (when she realized that his smile had been full of greed and a lust for his research and not out of geniune happiness to have his daughter near). When she got close enough to him, he crouched so that they were eyelevel, his eyes awash with expectancy.

"Riza," he began, his tone serious. "In my research, I've discovered a few things...things that, once I find the right person, will be the keys to making the Flame Alchemist who they'll eventually be. However, these things also have the potential to be dangerous, should they fall into the wrong hands. I can't take the risk of storing them like traditional notes, since those can easily get misplaced. That, my dear, is where you come in. I need your help in protecting these discoveries. While it won't be easy for you to be the keeper of these secrets, I know that you'll succeed in keeping them safe. So please, Riza...please safeguard this part of my work for me. You're the only one I trust enough to do this."

For a few moments, Riza said nothing, confusion making her thoughts unfocused. She wasn't sure why her father was asking her to do this important sounding task for him so suddenly, nor did she really understand how she was going to keep his research safe if he wasn't planning on copying them down and storing them in the traditional way, but she couldn't ignore the feeling of elation that was going through Riza's body as her father's words rang through her head.

"I need your help in protecting these discoveries."

"...I know that you'll succeed in keeping them safe."

"You're the only one I trust enough to do this."

"You're the only one..."

There was a part of Riza's mind that was screaming at her to say "no", begging her to deny her father and whatever kind of protection that he wanted her to give to these notes. It told her that she couldn't trust her father, at least not when it came to this part of his research. No matter how loudly this part of her brain told her to run, however, Riza knew that she couldn't do the things her mind was telling her to do. Her desire to finally be of some use to her father, even if it was as just the simple guardian of her father's research, was just too great for logic to win out in this battle. She was willing to take any consequences her choice may come with, no matter how small or large they might end up being. After all, it was going to be her responsibility once she gave her answer.

Riza hardened her resolve and, after another beat of silence, gave her answer.

"Alright. I'll do it."

"So. . . . .he tricked you. Your own father, because he was so eager to make sure his research would outlast him, tricked you, his only daughter, into keeping his secrets safe," eighteen year old Roy Mustang said as the two stood in seventeen year old Riza's room, her back, decorated with the array that held her father's secrets, bared and facing him. Roy could see her cringe slightly at his blunt statement before she spoke.

"I wouldn't call it tricking me so much as knowing what I wanted to hear. With all the times he called me useless, he must have known that I was chomping at the bit to help him by that point and that I'd agree to pretty much anything he asked of me, especially if it pertainted to his research. The thing is, though, is that I was the one who agreed to it. I knew that I could have been putting myself into a dangerous situation...and I promised him I'd protect his research, anyway. You can't blame my father completely, Roy."

"Why can't I?" Roy asked stubbornly, a dose of anger in his voice as he spoke. "Even if you did tell him that you were going to protect his secrets, you never could've known he'd give you a tattoo on your back, Riza! He never told you that, he never really gave you a choice! He told you what he wanted you to do and then made it impossible for you to say no! So, if he didn't trick you, than he manipulated you. Honestly, I don't know which one's worse!"

There was a stillness in the air as Roy finished his statement, his anger slowly dissolving into an acute sense of exasperation. he knew it wasn't doing anyone any good for him to be yelling at someone who, for the most part, was innocent in this whole thing. With a sigh, Roy sat down on the edge of Riza's bed and, after a moment, put his head in his hands. "Sorry about that. I'm not angry at you, Riza, I'm angry at your dad. Just. . . . how could he do that? How could he, knowing full well what he was going to do, act like you were just going to protect something trivial, and not basically protecting your whole live in order to protect the secrets on your back? It amazes me in the worst way possible."

"His mind wasn't exactly in the right place at the time, Roy," Riza replied softly, her tone matching Roy's. "Honestly, I think his mind had already started to deteriorate by the time he asked me."

There were a few moments of silence as Riza turned and quietly began put her blouse back on, Roy averting his eyes when she removed the shirt that had been covering her front. When she was done, Riza sat down next to him on her bed and sighed softly, a slight melancholy setteling into her body. She saw Roy's eyes drift to her's and give her a soft, yet sad, gaze.

"I'm sorry," Roy repeated, hoping that his true compassion and empathy for what Riza had been through, not just with the tattoo but with everything that had happened in the past day or so, showed in his words.

"It's OK," Riza said, her tone reassuring. "Father...while I want to believe that he wouldn't have done what he did had he been in his right mind, I have to face the fact that what he did do was cruel." Riza smiled sadly, her eyes downcast and beginning to brim with tears at the sudden memory of the whole process. "Shockingly, though, tattooing me wasn't the cruelest thing he's ever done."

"Then what was?" Roy asked.

Riza looked up at Roy, her eyes glassy. "The cruelest thing he ever did was tell me that getting a tattoo doesn't hurt."

Yeah, not the shippiest chapter, I know, but I found that I couldn't put any major moments into this story like I wanted. So, as you may or may not have noticed, I tried a little something different with this chapter, in terms of telling the story. Still unsure if I'll ever write another chapter like this, but time will tell! I'll hopefully see you guys soon with the next chapter! Have a nice day!

-Violet.