A/N: Thank you to everyone who has favorited, followed, or reviewed. Your support means so much! I am going to try to make this a weekly update every Saturday or Sunday, but there may be an odd Wednesday chapter in the mix from time to time.

Chapter Five: Childish Pride

As autumn began to settle over the quiet town, leaves blanketed the Hawkeye property, thanks to several large oak trees which towered over the house. With the season came a special treat. Riza had pinched their budget for weeks until the usual trader came through with his wares from the surrounding nations. She eagerly drug Roy out of the house alongside her, but she refused to tell him why. When she saw the familiar cart, she picked up her pace, waving her hand and calling something in Cretan. The exchange of words was so fast that Roy doubted he would have understand even if he spoke the language. Riza laughed at something that had been said, but the tone soon turned serious. Without knowing what was being said, Roy could tell that the two were haggling over some of the small bags in the cart. Several times, Riza turned to leave, only to come back at a price she wanted. After all was said and done, Roy had an armful of sachets and Riza placed some coins into the trader's palm. Despite the intensity of their bartering, the two parted with lighthearted calls and a wave.

"What just happened?" Roy asked as he tried to keep a hold on his burden. He was thankful when Riza reached over and took several from him, holding them by their strings. He adjusted his own grip on the bags and did the same.

"That's Mr. Pierre. He comes through here once a year on his way back from Xing. He trades in all kinds of things, but when he comes back into Amestris, he usually has all kinds of spices from Xing, and sometimes even from Aerugo or Creta if he hasn't sold them yet. Most of the spices get delivered to general stores, but I always try to catch him before he gets that far. If I can get him on his own, I can buy what he has for the base price without having to pay extra at the store."

"I'm guessing he's from Creta?"

"He immigrated here a little over a decade ago, he said. Don't ask him why if you don't want to hear the entire story of how he met and married his wife." Riza cracked a smile, and Roy assumed it was a tale she heard often.

"So what'd ya get?"

"I lucked out this time. I was able to get cinnamon, licorice, ginger, nutmeg, turmeric, and a whole bunch of other stuff. He gave me a really steep discount, something about you being with me."

"So he knew you had an extra mouth to feed."

"No, something about winning a man through his stomach." Riza shook her head, strangely unashamed. "He's always saying stuff like that to me. He keeps telling me about his son who is around my age."

"Oh?" Roy tried to hide his frown by smelling one of the sachets. He held it away from his face and sneezed several times.

"That's peppercorn," Riza pointed out. "Yeah, he keeps swearing to bring him along the next time he comes around. I just tell him that he should, because it would be even easier to haggle down his prices."

As she laughed, Roy forced himself to chuckle. At least she didn't seem to have any interest. His thoughts slammed into a halt as he demanded why that was even important to him. Not wanting to explore that question, he placed it in a box at the back of his mind. He didn't want to touch that one for a long time.

Riza continued, oblivious to Roy's inner turmoil. "Mr. Pierre suggested that I cut my hair," she mused, almost to herself. "He gave me some oil for my hair, to keep it from being so messy, and he said that it works best on shorter hair. It'd last longer, too."

Roy gave her a questioning glance. "Are you gonna do it?"

"I'm not sure... I don't want to be mistaken for a boy."

"You don't have to worry about that," Roy declared absentmindedly. Catching himself, he quickly added, "You know, the shape of your face and all. That and your bangs."

"You have bangs."

"They're not bangs, it's a fringe!"

"Which is a synonym for bangs."

"Whatever, you know what I meant."

"Maybe you're right," Riza mused as she opened the door to the house. She began to pull out several small, glass jars, and proceeded to empty the bags into them. "I'll think about it."

Roy grabbed a jar and began to pour out the contents of a larger bag. Out came tumbling a fine, vibrantly green powder. "The hell is this?"

"Matcha. You know, for an alchemist, you don't know a whole lot."

"I know that nothing is supposed to be this color."

"You're being smart with me today."

"Really? Because you just called me dumb." Roy grinned in his infuriating manner, ducking in anticipation of what Riza would throw at him. Strangely, this time, nothing came flying toward him.

"Are you going to be useful or are you going to annoy me?"

"Both," he complied as he continued to fill the jars with spices.

Dinner was prepared with more flavors than Roy had tasted in his entire life, let alone in one dish. He didn't even miss the fact that there was no meat in that night's meal. Riza watched him in amazement as he tore through his third helping. She had been worried about how much she had made after she served herself and placed her father's plate by his study, but leftovers wouldn't be any trouble at all, it seemed. Long since finished with her dinner, she had taken the time to clean up and do the dishes, and Roy still wasn't done eating. She sat down in her chair, asking concernedly "Are you alright?"

"Mmm," came her response, both an affirmation and remark on the food.

"You're going to give yourself a stomachache if you keep eating."

Roy shook his head. "I think I know what I can handle."

Roy groaned, both his hands placed on his distended stomach. He felt like he was going to be sick, but he had no regrets. That is, until Riza approached him with a cup of tea. He groaned again, trying to roll himself into the back of the couch. Riza placed a hand on his shoulder and righted him. "Mr. Mustang, you need to drink this. Ginger is going to help your stomach." Roy blinked up at her before rolling himself back over and away from her.

"This wouldn't have happened if you ate a normal serving and let yourself enjoy the leftovers."

"I don't care," came his response. He was trying to be defiant, but he sounded more pitiful than self-assured.

"If you don't care, drink this tea. I'm sure you can stomach a cup of hot water." Riza heard him gag. She was getting annoyed. He had been moaning and groaning for the past half hour, but he kept refusing to do anything to make himself feel better. At this point, he was wallowing in self-pity. She had been patient with him, she had done what she could for him, and finally she couldn't take it any longer. "Dammit, Roy! I'm not your nurse, now drink the tea!"

Riza's shock at her own outburst was reflected in Roy's face. Both sets of eyes were wide in disbelief, mouths agape. Riza quickly clapped her free hand over her mouth, her face reddening in embarrassment. Roy burst out laughing, and the tension in his abdomen caused his stomach to fight back in earnest. He was curled in on himself, alternating between laughing and winces of pain, unable to stop either. Riza set the cup of tea down with a loud clank and stood up in a fuss. "Fine. If you're going to mock my attempts to help, you don't deserve them." She turned on her heel and walked up the stairs, actually angry with him for the first time.

"Riza!" Roy called, but the effort on his diaphragm did nothing to help his stomach. He rolled over and picked up the mug, giving its contents a cautious sniff. He trusted her, and if she said this would help, so be it. He grimaced and tried to drink the tea as quickly as possible. A coughing fit racked his body when the tea went down the wrong way, and he fell back into the couch in defeat. This was it. This was how he was going to die. And at such a young age, too...

He knew that the longer he let her think he was mocking her, the angrier she would be. That lesson was learned quickly in a house full of women. Riza may have been nothing like his sisters in her personality, but she had her pride. It was a dignified, restrained pride, but pride nonetheless. After taking as deep a breath as he could in his state, he put on a brave face and began to drink the rest of his tea. Unfortunately, it didn't have the immediate effect he was hoping for.

Minutes seemed like hours as he lay on the couch, unable to move due to his stomachache. He rose a few times only to have the need to sit back down. Finally, he was able to remain standing. Not daring to rush, he made his way up the stairs. "Riza?" He called without raising his voice. The bathroom light was shining out into the hall; Roy turned his apology over in his mind as he approached the door. "Riza, I-"

He broke off as Riza turned to look at him, a pair of scissors in her hands. The vast majority of her hair was on the floor around her feet. The hair she had left was shorter than his own and messily done at best. He took the scissors from her and stepped behind her, placing a hand on her head to tilt it slightly downward. "I didn't mean to laugh. The face you made was funny; that's what I was laughing at. Not you." Her hair was so short at the back of her neck that he had to even out the neckline, which was severely angled. "The tea helped." At this admission, he stepped to the side and looked at her in the mirror. "I don't know what I said to make you want to do this, but I'm sorry for whatever it was."

"This isn't about you," Riza bluntly informed him.

"Then what is it about?"

"I don't know. I just saw myself in the mirror and decided that it had to go. I looked like a five-year-old with my hair. I saw it and realized that I hate it." She frowned, tilting her head in whichever way Roy moved it. "I wanted it to be different. It's been that way my whole life, and I was sick of it."

Roy trimmed her short hair around her ears, doing the best he could to fix the damage she had caused. Without any weight, the blonde strands stuck out for the most part. To the touch, it was almost stiff. It would grow out a bit with time, and hopefully it could be better cut at that point. He brushed the hair off of her shoulders, looking at her in the mirror once more. "You kept your bangs."

"It's a fringe." Riza smiled at him mockingly. With that cheeky remark, Roy knew that he was forgiven. She only said things like that if she was in a good humor and feeling open with him. After three months, he would be remiss if he hadn't picked up on that detail.

"Whatever you have to say to yourself." Roy stuck his hands in his pockets and strode out of the bathroom, heading to his closet of a room. He took a few steps back until he was once again looking at Riza. She quirked an eyebrow at him as he studied her. After a few moments, he nodded. "I like it short." With that, he walked off, leaving her to clean the mess she had made.

Riza's fingers brushed across the back of her head, feeling the small pinpricks against her skin. At first, she thought she just needed a couple of days to get used to it. Then, she wondered if she was self-conscious. But sitting outside underneath the oldest oak tree in the yard, she finally came to the answer. She wasn't excited or sad about the change, because nothing had changed at all. When she was hacking away with the scissors, she thought of her mother's long, dark hair that shone like glass. She thought of her father's dirty yellow, the mats and and tangles. She had vainly hoped that her passionate act would push away ghosts both dead and living. But nothing had changed. She still had her mother's eyes and her father's coloring; her mother's mouth drawn into the stern line of her father's. There they were, constantly looking back at her in mirrors and windows.

She was still a slave in her home; she still hid herself at loud noises and shied away from confrontation. As hard as she tried, the thoughts that could have liberated her were shoved down time and time again by her father's shouts and her mother's doting. Be quiet, be good, be invisible. These were the lessons she learned as soon as she knew how to speak. That was how she survived. Girls need to look pretty if they want to get a husband who will take care of them. It's not ladylike to speak out of turn. If you can cook and clean, you don't need to bother with anything else. She wanted to scream, to fight back in any way she could against these voices, but she was afraid. Terror had situated itself at the forefront of her mind and never moved out.

No, nothing had changed at all.

She exhaled and placed her hand back on the cloth in her lap. She folded the seam in on itself, decreasing it in size. It was very kind of Mrs. Peterson to give her some of her children's hand-me-downs, and, while she would normally refuse anything from Jack, she decided that some pants couldn't hurt. Mrs. Peterson talked about how they were good work pants, but Riza intended to break custom by wearing them instead of a skirt or dress. She had plans to alter Jasmine's dresses into blouses, as well. Yet the sewing was tedious work, and she always managed to stick her fingers with the needle. She hissed through her teeth as she pricked herself, wiping the drop of blood into the grass beneath her.

"You know, you really should use antiseptic after doing that."

Riza's head flew back and up, her ears telling her exactly who said it and where he was. Roy sat on one of the thick branches, his feet dangling in the air. He grinned when he saw her face. "Scared ya, didn't I?"

"There's a special name for boys who like to spy on young girls while hiding in trees, I'll have you know," Riza retorted, only a little angry with him. "How long have you been up there?"

"Longer than I would have liked. I got a running start off the roof and jumped, but when I hit the tree, my shirt snagged on a branch." He gestured to his white tee shirt, which was ripped halfway down and across his stomach. "I'm not proud of it, so I was going to wait until you left, but you were taking way too long."

"Roy Mustang!" Riza exclaimed, jumping to get feet. "What a stupid thing to do! You know, you're going to die by natural selection someday with a stunt like that."

He responded with a lazy shrug. "If it happens, it happens." With that, he began to swing himself between branches, making his way toward the ground. His feet made contact with the earth not far from his companion, and even he was surprised when he stuck his landing. Riza gave him a pointed look, one he had become well accustomed to. By way of defending himself, he added "What's the point of life if you're careful all the time? You have to do stupid and dangerous things sometimes; that's what makes it worth it."

"Your existential philosophy is worrisome."

"I'm an alchemist, not some grand philosopher. I look at the small picture instead of the big one."

Knowing that, as usual, arguing would get her nowhere, Riza relented. She jumped, startled when she felt Roy's hand on her head. He was looking at her inquisitively, and her eyes moved down and to the side, uncomfortable. He ruffled her hair, and Riza jerked away from him with an angry look. "I like it short," he reminded her, not knowing why he felt the need to say it.

"You've messed it up," Riza complained, raking her fingers through her hair. Her bangs had fallen out of place, and it was difficult to get them into position again.

"I don't know why you sweep your hair behind your ear," Roy wondered aloud as he sat in the grass, leaning back against the tree. "It's cute when it hangs over your face like that." Instantaneously realizing what he had just said, he gave an awkward cough and turned his head away from her. What the hell? She was a kid! Then again, so was he, but he knew Aunt Chris would box his ears for saying that so bluntly to a girl younger than him. You've got your whole life to chase after women, Roy-boy. Don't start it at your age.

Several moments of silence passed between them before Riza sat down once more, keeping a slight distance between herself and Roy. He still wasn't looking at her. "Thank you," she said softly, her voice honest.

"For what?" Roy asked, not sure how making a fool of himself was something to be appreciated.

"I thought I would be happier with the change than I am. It didn't do what I thought it would. I don't feel different, I haven't done anything different; everything is the same. I was really starting to regret having cut it. But knowing that I have a friend who likes it is enough for now."

"Friend?"

"We are friends, aren't we?" Riza asked, trying to keep the hurt out of her voice.

Roy slung an arm across her shoulders and pulled her toward him, holding her to him with his arm. His other hand began to mess her hair again. "Damn right we are."

"Mr. Mustang, stop it! That's not funny!"

"Who? I don't know who that is." Roy taunted, laughing as he did so.

"Roy!"