A/N: My impression of Berthold Hawkeye is a little off beat from the opposites of neglectful father and well-intentioned researcher. The way he acts, as well as Riza's reactions to him, will be explained as the story progresses. I will go ahead and clarify that there is no physical abuse taking place, so rest assured on that end.

Chapter Two: Defiance

"Get out of my house."

These words shook the living room, a clap of quiet thunder which rivaled Roy's first fantastical assumptions. Although softly spoken, they carried the weight of war and disdain. All the boy could do was gape; he sought out the girl for support, but she was gone, silently as a spirit.

"Shut your damned mouth, boy, and grab your things."

Roy dared a glance out of the window; rain slipped down the window panes in the darkness. His stomach dropped as his hopes came crashing down around him. His heart was in his throat, pained at the injustice he was suffering. Only a few moments ago, he had been reading an alchemical text as Riza tended to the fire when a door swung loudly open from upstairs. The man who stalked down the stairs could have been the great Berthold Hawkeye, could he? This man's eyes surveyed the area around him as he moved, his footsteps and swaying walk akin to that of a snake. Roy made the mistake of making eye contact, and that was all he had needed to do.

Roy gulped, his hands balled into fists at his sides. He had worked so hard, scraped together as much money as he could. He had paid his own way to this empty little town only to be told that there was no place for him here. That was always the way things turned out. As hard as his aunt tried to make him feel at home, he knew he would always be the foreign, little orphan boy who didn't fit in anywhere. He stared down the alchemist, flaming onyx eyes defying icy blue. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Riza peeking out from behind a doorway, safely down the hall.

Roy breathed in, urging every cell in his body not to fail him. On his exhale, his lips turned down into a scowl as his mouth spoke of its own accord: "No."

Riza gasped in shock and retreated from the door frame, terrified of what was about to come. She sank down the wall and held her knees to her chest, trying to make herself disappear. Roy couldn't believe what he had done. He felt as though he was going to throw up, but he somehow remained on his feet. He did his best not to let his own astonishment show. The silence was making him panic, and his body decided that talking was a good outlet.

"I'm not leaving here until I've had a chance to prove myself! You can't take one look at me and tell me to go; that's crap!" Oh god, why was he still talking? Shut up! "I'm staying."

Riza bent her head down to rest on her knees, waiting for the aftermath. Roy's hands shook by his sides, his fingernails digging into the skin of his palms. Berthold looked him up and down, his face radiating disapproval. The look in his eyes was cold and calculating, as though he was trying to figure out what to do with a pesky gnat. "You'll be out by morning." The words fell like a gavel, ending the conversation. The man took his dinner plate in his hands and retreated the same way he had come, never once faltering. Roy had lost, and everyone knew it. The house fell deathly silent until a door clicked shut.

Roy reached out to steady himself against a chair, his knees quaking. He was notorious for talking a big game, and, while he could back it up most of the time, it had gotten him into very serious trouble in the past. He had been sure that there was a slap coming his way. Oh, if Aunt Chris heard him talk like that...

When he looked up, he noticed for the first time that Riza was gone. Great, now he had pissed her off, too. He heaved a sigh and shook his head. With nothing else left to do, he walked to the front door and picked up his bags. After such a show of teenage bravado, he had no choice but to follow through with what he said and suffer the consequences. As he pulled the straps into his shoulders, he suddenly realized he had no idea where he was going. He looked to his left and right, confusion clear on his face. It was then that Riza shuffled past him, slipping by on his left while he was looking to his right. "Follow me, Mr. Mustang," she said meekly. She had gathered the rest of his things for him, and her load was far heavier than his own. Roy couldn't tell if her hands were shaking from the weight of the bag or something else.

"Riza, there's no need for you to-" he began, but by then she was halfway up the stairs. Roy followed her obediently, once more trying to solve her puzzle. She was a strange girl, that was for sure. Oddly enough, he found this rather charming. He smiled at himself, knowing what his sisters would have said. They were a bunch of busybodies and insisted that he was thinking and feeling all sorts of ridiculous things almost all the time. He already missed them.

Without knowing it, he had followed Riza into a small room off the main hall. It smelled like dust and disuse, but the room itself seemed rather clean. It was tight quarters; Roy had to sidestep to get to his bed when Riza set his bags by the door. He was almost convinced that this bedroom used to be a closet.

"The bathroom is two doors down and to the right. My bedroom is the third door. Father's is at the front of the hall, two doors down in the other direction. He is hardly ever there; normally he sleeps in his study on the first floor." The words poured out of Riza's mouth like a parroted recitation. Her eyes were fixed on the floor, and her shoulders hunched slightly forward. "Breakfast is at eight."

Roy chuckled. "You sound like a hotel concierge."

Riza looked up at him in befuddlement, and Roy realized that she had probably never stayed in a hotel, let alone left this small town many times before. He was about to backtrack his awkward statement, but he stopped when he heard Riza's quiet voice.

"You stood up to him." Once more, a statement. This time, it was one of awe. All at once, her eyes called him a fool, clouded in disbelief, and shone ever so slightly with a ray of hope. Roy had done what, to Riza, was impossible. This terrified her. He had come into her home and turned everything she thought she knew onto its head. Wise for her young age, she knew she had two choices. She could run from this new reality or embrace it. She wasn't yet ready to make a decision, but the knowledge that there was a decision to be made was overwhelming. Choice was never something she had enjoyed, for it had never been given to her. Today, thanks to Roy, she learned that choice could be demanded and fought for. Her head was spinning with all of this knowledge, and Roy thought she looked a little dizzy.

"Yeah..." Roy rubbed the back of his neck with his right hand. "I do that sometimes. Aunt Chris says my mouth runs faster than my brain." He gave a nervous chuckle, not knowing what else to do. "I'm gonna pay for that one, aren't I?"

"I don't know," Riza admitted, astonished at the fact. "He's never... I mean, I... I just don't know. If I had done that..." She trailed off, and Roy knew that that was one boundary he shouldn't push just yet. "We will just have to wait and see."

The two stood there, looking at one another in silence for more moments than either cared to count. Riza broke eye contact first, glancing downward. "I'll leave you to your sleep." She turned for the the door and stopped, turning her head ever so slightly to look discreetly back at him. "I will see you in the morning." This declaration was filled with certainty, unlike those she used to answer her own questions.

Roy watched her as she left his room, smiling without knowing it. Today was one of the rare days where it seemed the universe was working for him. He just hoped that his luck would last. After all, he had to go through that same show tomorrow if he was going to even have a chance at learning from Berthold Hawkeye. He needed a good night's sleep and all the courage and pride it could bring; if Hawkeye wanted him to prove himself, then so be it.