A/N: Sorry it's been so long since I've updated. Things have been crazy, but I promise I haven't forgotten!

Chapter Eighteen: Beginning Recovery

It wasn't surprising when Roy found another stack of books waiting for him on the kitchen table. In fact, it had become so routine that he had stopped complaining about it. Riza had guessed that her father was keeping him on as a student, despite last week's incident, because they couldn't afford to lose his tuition. The reason mattered very little to Roy. Over the last few days, he had been concocting what he considered to be a fool-proof plan to convince Riza to move to Central with him if he was kicked out. He wasn't sure if he should be thankful that he didn't have to use it. His master was now a threat. Berthold had stripped himself of a good deal of respect in Roy's eyes; the man seemed to be a completely useless teacher and an incompetent, cruel father. It was hard for him to stomach.

For his 'bad behavior,' his studies had stagnated. Everything he was reading seemed to stay on the topic of combustion reactions. Complete and incomplete combustion, formulae which seemed to never end, the theoretical application of a philosopher's stone on the reaction; it never ended. For his part, he would have just as soon tested the reactions on the books themselves. He was having this very thought when the book suddenly disappeared from his hands. He blinked once and looked up, finding Riza.

"You need a break," she said decisively as she marked his place and closed the text.

Roy was confused. "You… want me to take a break?"

"You haven't turned the page in half an hour. Trust me, you need a break."

Well, he wasn't about to argue with that. When she suggested that they run their weekly errands, he jumped at the chance to get out of the house for a while. Carrying groceries was far more pleasant, even if it was a chore.

Riza had taken the time to alter some of her father's old clothing, which had been gathering dust in one of the unused rooms in a box marked 'charity.' Many of her clothes came from the same box, which was far fuller with her mother's things than her father's. Shirts were altered to shorten the sleeves and tighten the torso, and pants were hemmed to his length. She had left many of them slightly larger than he needed, citing the fact that he had grown at least two inches since that winter. Roy had never experienced hand-me-downs, and it was something he had to get used to. The alterations were as good as any he could find in a store, but the clothes had a strange smell to them. A mixture of dust, stale air, and whiskey clung to the fabric, which Riza insisted would go away in just a few washes. Unwilling to wait that long, he finally broke open the bottle of cologne Bea had given him for Christmas and used it to cover the scent.

It seemed to be working. Riza had kept her distance from him when he had first started wearing the altered clothing. When he wore the cologne, she didn't seem to mind. Instinctively, he knew her reasoning, even if she might not have known it herself. She had gone to such lengths to make his life a little easier that he would have paid a far greater price for her comfort.

His shoes, however, remained his own. As such, he was restricted to a pair of running shoes and a pair of dress shoes. It was vain, he knew, but he always noted how the red trim never matched the colors he was wearing when he tied his laces. Today, at least, the short-sleeved, white button down and jeans he was wearing didn't cause that issue. He watched as Riza put on her wide-brimmed hat, a gift from her grandfather, and opened the door. The two of them leisurely began their walk into the town, neither of them in a rush to head back any time soon. Ever cautious, his hand reached out and found hers, hesitating before lacing their fingers. As usual, she paid little mind, but he was able to catch the momentary glint in her eyes.

Their cheeks were tinged red by the time they could see the rooftops; the heat gave them little mercy. The breeze drifted to and fro frequently, which helped alleviate their discomfort. All the same, they were thankful for the cold interior of Mr. Pratt's general store. Roy let out a heavy sigh of relief and stood in front of a fan, leaving Riza to browse the aisles on her own for a moment. The bell above the door had summoned the shopkeeper, who chuckled to himself at Roy's position.

"Warm out there, is it, son?" he inquired, his cheekbones lifting up his glasses.

"Yessir," Roy nodded, looking over at him. He realized his mistake when Mr. Pratt's eyes locked on to the lingering discoloration on the side of his face. His stomach dropped when he saw the grocer's eyes narrow and his mouth open. Roy shook his head vigorously back and forth to delay any comment he was about to make. Mr. Pratt caught on when Riza appeared out of the next aisle.

"Hello, Mr. Pratt," Riza chimed cheerfully as she pulled a package off the shelf. She had no idea how much her presence relieved him, and she wasn't paying enough attention to catch his sigh of relief.

"Good to see you, Riza," Mr. Pratt returned. He beckoned Roy over when Riza had become preoccupied. "What happened?" he demanded in a hushed tone.

"I took care of it," Roy assured him.

"Roy," the shopkeeper's tone grew firm, "what. Happened?"

"Berthold was being an ass. That's all. I took care of it."

The shopkeeper raised an eyebrow, but he let the topic drop. He shook his head, adding, "I'm proud of you, boy. But don't try to be the hero; you have people I want to help you."

"I know, sir."

They both fell silent as Riza approached with her basket. She looked between the two of them, but she decided not to bring it up. The conversation that passed while she paid for the food was superficial, and she wasn't stupid. She knew exactly what had happened. Not a word was said until the two children left the shop. Once outside, Riza looked at her companion. "What did you say to him?"

"Nothing. He asked what happened, and I just said I took care of it."

After a moment of silence, she stated "He's worried about me."

Roy nodded. Riza pressed her side against his, and he draped his arm across her shoulders.

"I'm sorry." Her eyes were fixed on her shoes as they walked.

Roy shushed her quietly and pressed a kiss to the side of her head. "You have nothing to be sorry about. People worry because they love you. That's nothing to apologize for."

Riza nodded, not entirely convinced, but thankful for his attempt.

"Let me make dinner tonight, okay?"

Riza quirked an eyebrow before asking "Do you know how?"

"You'll just have to wait and see." Roy smiled when she laughed, please that he could lift her up even a little bit.