TW: Child abuse

A/N: Okay, so this chapter is going to be a heavy one. I want to warn you all up front. If you want to skip this chapter, please do. The next chapter will be something happy. That being said, I think this chapter is important to the story as a whole.

Also, I am currently taking drabble requests. My Tumblr profile is listed on my author page.

Chapter Seventeen: Rebellion

Mr. Pratt folded down the top of his newspaper when he heard the door chime. He frowned slightly, puzzled by his company. It was early, too early for this particular customer to be up and out. "Morning, Roy," he called, raising one hand in greeting. The young man returned the gesture. The shopkeeper's eyes strayed back to the door, but it remained shut. His stomach dropped. "Roy, where's Riza?"

Roy was studying the back of a box of noodles, and he didn't lift his eyes when he replied, "She's at the house. She didn't want to make the walk today."

"Is she alright?"

"Yeah," Roy affirmed. When he looked up, he saw Mr. Pratt approaching him. He was taken by his upper arms, his face not far from the shopkeeper's.

"Is she alright?" The question was repeated with more emphasis.

"She's fine." Roy began to feel nervous, feeding off the energy around him. Hesitantly, he asked, "Why? What's wrong?"

Mr. Pratt let go of his arms and stepped back. Roy was an honest kid, so he probably wasn't lying. "I worry about her," he admitted before walking back to the counter.

Roy followed, not willing to give up just yet. "Why's that?"

The shopkeeper fell back into his chair with a hrumph. "I guess you wouldn't know..." The look in the boy's eyes convinced him, against his better judgement, to explain. "I don't trust that Pa of hers. None of us do; not since Eva. There's not a doubt in my mind that those two were made for eachother. You'd say the same if you met her, if you knew him before."

Roy listened intently, his black eyes never moving from the shopkeeper's face.

"Ya see, none of us know what happened to sweet Eva. When she passed so suddenly, none of us were told about her funeral. Berthold rushed it. Really hurt the people in town. Little Riza made her way down here that same day to buy some food. She was dressed in black, and her eyes were red, the poor thing. I took her home after I made a meal for her and Berthold, but when he opened the door, he pulled Riza inside and slammed it in my face. I left the food on the porch in hopes that she could convince him."

"Word got around, and everybody gave it a try at least once. That Cretan trader got more out of Riza than anyone else. Apparently, Berthold had stopped eating, and the child was so sick with worry that she had, too. Pierre was having none of that, so he brought her into town. Of course, we treated her as best we could. Her eyes... it was like there was nothing left in them. It was enough to break your heart. We all wanted to take her in, but she refused to leave her father."

"I'm sure she isn't being treated right. The wife says I'm reading too much into it, but no little girl should have the look she does." Mr. Pratt hesitated, not sure if he wanted the answer to his question. "Have you seen anything?"

Roy faltered, not sure what to say. "I mean... it's kind of like you said. Master Hawkeye just sits in his study all the time and never comes out. Riza leaves him food." He stuck his hands in his pockets, trying to think of what he could say without betraying Riza's trust. Saying what he thought rather than what he had been told should be okay. "She's scared of him," he admitted. "There have been a few times when he's been angry with me. He's thrown books at me, threatened to kick me out... But Riza always gets more scared than I do. Last year, she was so upset that she hid behind a chair in the living room. I mean, yeah, Master Hawkeye almost clocked me with a book, but..."

Mr. Pratt stood up from his chair, fixing Roy with his gaze. "Promise me that you'll protect that girl. Somehow, she's managed to keep some light in her. Don't let Berthold stomp it out. You keep her safe, and you keep her whole."

"Yes, sir," Roy promised, taken aback by their conversation. Mr. Pratt's nod signaled the end of their conversation, and Roy hurried to purchase the rest of what he needed. The bell to the shop rang behind him. The summer heat was welcome compared to what had just transpired. He held the paper bag in his left arm, leaving his right hand free, which he flexed and unflexed as he walked. He had lived there for a year; if Master Hawkeye were hurting Riza, wouldn't he have seen it? Wouldn't Riza have said something? Something wasn't right, but he didn't think it was that.

The more he thought about it, the more it became clear to him. Master Hawkeye was never there. He kept himself in his study for days at a time. They were lucky if they managed to catch sight of him once a week. When he did appear, he barked orders at them and scolded them about something or another. He had seen Master Hawkeye angry only once, and that wasn't even true anger; it was more like severe irritation.

He didn't know the words to describe all of this, but he knew it was wrong. It had been wrong ever since he arrived. Now that Riza had opened up to him and allowed herself to let down her walls, it seemed like cruelty.

When the house was finally in view, he was torn from his thoughts. Even from this distance, he could hear Master Hawkeye shouting. He quickened his pace, kicking up dirt as he went. When he passed the fence, he stumbled to a stop, breathing a sigh of relief. Riza was sitting underneath her favorite tree, her back straight as a board. Her knees were pulled up to her chest, and she plucked nervously at the grass beside her. She lifted her chin from her knees and looked over at Roy, her eyes expressionless. The moment was punctuated by a wordless shout of aggravation from inside the house.

Roy walked over to Riza and sat down beside her, setting the bag of groceries to his left. He placed an arm across her shoulders and waited for her to say something. When she didn't, he rested his head on top of hers. She reached out and took his hand, lacing her fingers through his.

"Are you okay?" Roy asked gently. He felt her nod her head beneath his own. He breathed a sigh of relief, realizing that he had been holding his breath.

"He hit a dead end," Riza explained. Berthold had been chasing this thread for the better part of a year. There had been successes and failures, but nothing like this. She didn't know what it was that he was researching, but she could hear him well enough to know that all of that research had been useless.

Roy grimaced. If that was the case, he wasn't going to let up for quite some time. He wouldn't be surprised if this lasted the better part of a week. The best way to handle the situation was to keep their heads down and stay out of his way until he had a new idea and locked himself away again. He frowned, building up the courage to ask what had been on his mind. "Riza... your dad-"

"No," Riza answered, knowing what he was about to ask. "He's never hurt me physically." She paused for a moment before murmuring, "But that doesn't mean he won't."

"What do you mean?"

"You've seen him throw things at you. What if he had actually hit you with them? Or when he pushes you out of his study, or when he slams his fists on the table or wall." Riza shook her head. "He's threatening, and not just to you. I don't trust him." Those four words made her stomach fall, and she tightened her grip on Roy's hand. That was the truth of it all: she had no faith in her father. She was aware of it for years, but she had never admitted that the only person she had was herself. How it fell to her to take care of herself and her father, how she had no help, how she struggled to be perfect and maybe get him to notice her. It was as though, to him, she was as much of a ghost as her mother.

Roy shifted his position and pulled Riza into a hug, holding her close. She didn't fight him. He could feel her shaking, and he began to rock slowly from side to side. He planted a kiss on the top of her head and stroked her shoulder with his thumb. It became increasingly difficult to soothe her the more he thought about all he had learned. Nonetheless, he knew she needed to be cared for in that moment, and so he did. He ignored the mosquitoes that flew up to bite at his neck and arms, and he didn't even think about how hot it was. Nothing mattered but Riza and her well-being. Eventually, the noise inside the house stopped. Somehow, the silence was worse than the shouting. Riza seemed to feel the same way, judging by the way her body tensed when it fell quiet. It was as if she was bracing herself for it to start all over again.

The air began to cool as the sun disappeared from the sky. Riza shivered and finally pulled herself away from Roy. Her eyes were red, and yet she wore that stoic mask she used so well. If she wanted to pretend that everything was alright, Roy wasn't going to stop her. Not tonight, at least. She was shaken, and he felt she had been through enough. He could easily see that she was hurting, but he didn't want to press the issue any further. He pushed himself to his feet and offered Riza his hand, helping her do the same. The bag of groceries found its place in Roy's left arm, and the two walked to the front door, Roy's hand on Riza's back.

Roy turned the doorknob and pushed the door inward, stepping into the house first. Everything looked still, much to his relief. He made his way over to the kitchen counter to set down the bag. Much to his surprise, Riza was following him like a shadow. This meek attitude was so unlike her that it made him anxious. Of course, he didn't tell her that. She helped him put away the groceries and take out the ingredients for that night's dinner. In order not to heat the house up any more, it was agreed that they shouldn't use the stove or oven. It only took a head of lettuce and some fruit to make a salad large enough, and delicious enough, to feed all three of them. Roy couldn't stand traditional salad, but the fruit made it bearable; he was also attracted to the recipe because it was incredibly simple to make.

The two children moved to the couch and placed their bowls on the coffee table. They both picked up a book, reading and eating in silence. When she heard a door open, Riza remembered that she hadn't placed a plate outside her father's study. She quickly shut her book and rushed into the kitchen, hurriedly serving his portion. She wasn't quick enough; Berthold exited the hallway before she could set his plate down on the kitchen table. Riza set his dinner on the table and searched for some silverware only to realize that she didn't have any clean. In an instant, Berthold's hand shot out and caught her by the upper arm. Riza froze, eyes wide. In her panic, she had forgotten how to swallow.

Icy blue eyes stared down at her from behind a mess of blonde hair. "What is wrong with you?" Berthold demanded. When he relieved no response, he pressed, "Well?"

Riza looked down at the floor, grimacing as his grip tightened. "I'm sorry, Father," she plead.

"You live in my house, you do as I say."

"Yes, Father."

"Which is?"

"Keep the house tidy, don't answer the door, cook and shop so we can eat, and... um..." Her heart beat faster as she tried to remember.

"And keep from being a nuisance," Berthold spat, livid that she could forget such a simple set of rules.

"Yes, sir," Riza affirmed, still not meeting his gaze.

Berthold released her arm with force, causing her to stumble back a step. "Boy!" he shouted, looking over his shoulder. "Get in here and eat at the table! This isn't a whorehouse!"

Riza gasped involuntarily. She dared not look at either of them. Her fingers dug into her palms as she uttered a silent prayer for Roy to hold back. Before she could stop herself, she spoke softly, "Don't say that."

Berthold turned his attention back to his daughter. "Did you just say something to me?" he challenged.

Riza clenched her fists and gathered all the courage in her body. "I said, 'don't say that.'"

"Oh, really?" Berthold scowled. "Idiot child. You need to learn some respect!" He raised his right hand, at which Riza cowered. She closed her eyes tightly.

The next thing she knew, she had fallen onto the ground. She had heard a slap, but she hadn't felt it. Cautiously, she opened her eyes to see Roy standing over her. Berthold couldn't keep surprise from showing on his face, if only for a split second. Roy turned his head back so that he was facing Berthold. His cheek stung, but that only fed the fire.

"You goddamned coward!" Roy shouted, standing tall so that he could be as close as possible to his master's level. "What, is hitting a kid going to make you feel better about yourself?! Belittling us?! Just because you're pissed that you failed doesn't give you the right to use us to inflate your ego!"

Berthold's hand shot out and grabbed the front of Roy's shirt. He lifted him until his toes scraped the ground, putting Roy's face in front of his. But Roy wasn't about to let his master intimidate him. "Get out of my house," Berthold snarled.

"Like hell." Roy looked him squarely in the eyes. "No. You go crawl back into your cave and throw yourself a pity party, and leave us the fuck alone."

Berthold threw Roy back, but Riza managed to stop his momentum. Roy grabbed the counter to steady himself. He spat blood onto the floor and wiped his chin with the back of his hand. "I want to be there when you get what's coming to you, you narcissistic son of a bitch!"

"If you're not out by sunrise, there'll be hell to pay," Berthold swore before turning his back on them. The tension in the air held until they heard the door to the study slam shut.

Riza immediately fell to her knees, her eyes wide in horror. Roy lowered himself down beside her, and she buried her head in his chest.

"I'm sorry," her voice shook. "I'm so, so sorry."

"You don't need to be sorry."

Riza shook her head forcefully, and Roy felt his shirt begin to dampen. "I should have remembered. I should have been thinking. I shouldn't have said anything. I should have just left his plate outside the study. I-"

"Shhhh." Roy stroked the back of her head. "You did nothing wrong."

"I'm sorry. It's all my fault."

"It's his fault, not yours," Roy assured her. The only response he got was a choked sob.

"I don't want you to leave."

"Hey, I'm not going anywhere. He's tried to kick me out before, remember?"

"Don't go." Riza's whisper was almost inaudible, muffled by his shirt.

"I won't," Roy swore, holding her to him.

Hours felt like minutes as they sat this way, and Roy wasn't surprised when he felt her relax in his arms. Carefully, he gathered her up and lifted her from the floor, resting her head on his shoulder before carrying her upstairs. It took some maneuvering to pull down her blanket while holding her at the same time, but he managed. He gently lay her down and pulled the blanket over her. When he turned to face the door, he hesitated. After tonight, he didn't trust Berthold, either. For his own peace of mind, he sat down on the other side of the bed, fully intending to watch over Riza. He stifled a yawn and forced his eyes to stay open. They were both physically and emotionally drained, but the night was far from over.

He wasn't conscious enough to realize he had fallen asleep next to her.