June 7

For nearly a week after Miss Riza's injury, Roy did everything in his power to ensure that she didn't put any weight on her damaged ankle. He helped her limp carefully up and down the stairs in the mornings and evenings and checked in on her throughout the day, between bouts of studying. He fetched books and tea and sandwiches and extra pillows as the occasion demanded, making sure that everything she could possibly need was at her fingertips. He even followed her careful instructions regarding meals, chopping and stirring and sweating over simmering saucepans while Miss Riza fidgeted anxiously on the couch in the parlor and fretted over her confinement.

Roy could sense her growing restlessness as the days went on, and knew without her having to say so that she was starting to feel like a prisoner in her own home. So on the eighth morning, when he came to escort her down the stairs, he was unsurprised to find her bedroom vacant.

Naturally, she was in the kitchen, the only concession to her recent injuries being that she was seated at the table rather than puttering about the stove. She smiled shyly at him when he walked in.

"Hey, there. How are you feeling?" he greeted her cheerfully.

"Good morning, Mr. Mustang. I'm much better, thank you." She nodded in the direction of the stovetop. "I just made hot cocoa, if you want any."

"Oh, great, thanks," he said, moving across to the stove to help himself. "I thought you weren't supposed to be worrying about chores for at least the next few days, Miss Hawkeye?" he said over his shoulder, frowning slightly. She squirmed a little.

"I couldn't stand another day lying on the couch or stuck up in my room," she confessed. "But I was really careful coming down the stairs! And my ankle hardly even hurts today." Roy just smiled as he sat down opposite her with a steaming mug in hand.

"Well that's something, anyway. The doc said it would be good as new in a couple weeks, so it looks like you're well on the way."

"You're up rather early again," she noticed. "Weren't you and Papa both up late last night?"

"Yeah," he sighed. "But I know today's your usual market day, and I was hoping to catch you before you tried to hobble into town." Her eyes widened. "Ah-ha, I knew it!" he said smugly. "You were planning to go, weren't you?"

"No-o," she lied unconvincingly. When he just raised an eyebrow and smirked at her, she huffed a little. "Oh, all right. I was thinking about it. But if I don't, there won't be anything to make for supper, so I don't see a way around it."

"Well, I could go for you," Roy said. She blinked. Amused as he was to realize that she'd never even considered the possibility, it also stung a little. "Aw come on! I'm perfectly capable of picking up ingredients!" He protested. "You can even write me out a list so I don't forget anything."

"Well...that really would be helpful," she admitted. "Are you sure you don't mind?"

"I wouldn't have offered if I did," he shrugged. "Would it make you feel better if I said I had a letter to mail and was going anyway?" Never mind that he'd waited two extra days to send his usual letter, just in case.

"All right, then. If you're sure," she said carefully. "Will you hand me a pen, please?"

Well that hadn't gone as planned, Roy thought. He dragged himself to his feet, still wheezing, and tried to stifle a moan. The detritus of the shopping was scattered all around him. Probing his split lip with his tongue as he surveyed the damage, he fervently hoped he had enough money left from his allowance to cover replacements. Ugh, what a mess.

The meat was perfectly all right, tightly wrapped up in waxed brown paper as it was. But the bottle of milk was a loss, and all but three of the eggs were ground into mud on the road. The apples, a delicate shade of green under the liberal coat of dirt and smashed egg goop, might be a bit bruised, but he figured they'd wash up all right. And only about half of the flour had been spilled.

It could've been worse, Roy thought as he bent down to fetch the last stray apple from the little ditch along the side of the road. His bruised ribs screamed in protest, but he clenched his jaw resolutely and straightened back up. Fortunately, the letter he'd gotten in response from the girls was safely tucked into an inside pocket of his jacket, so they hadn't been able to do anything to that. That was something, at least. He sighed.

I probably shouldn't have provoked them, he thought ruefully. But the moment they'd stopped him he'd known that the meeting wouldn't end well. Maybe they'd have spared the groceries if he'd kept his unruly mouth shut, but he just hadn't been able to resist getting a verbal shot in here and there, and so…well. Mortifying as it was, he'd have to turn around and go right back to town, and back into all the same shops, barely an hour after he'd been there. But he might as well drop off the surviving things first, since he was nearly home anyway.

Miss Hawkeye looked up when the back door opened, the smile of greeting on her face melting into a round 'o' of shock as she took in his bedraggled state.

"Oh! What happened?" she gasped, as if it wasn't fairly obvious.

"Your neighbors are jerks," was all Roy said. He tried to smile as he said it, but sucked in a sharp breath when the movement made his spilt lip crack open again. Quickly drying her wet, soapy hands on her apron, Riza took the remains of the groceries from him, dumping them impatiently on the counter. Roy dropped heavily into his usual chair with a wince while Miss Hawkeye busied herself with a clean dish cloth and the cold water at the sink.

"Here," she said softly, bending over him. He accepted the cloth gratefully and began to gingerly dab the dried blood off his face.

"Do I have a black eye, yet?" he said, trying for a light tone. Her serious brown eyes flicked over him, assessing the damage.

"Mm, not yet, but you will. It takes a day or so to turn nasty colors," she said, matter-of-factly.

"Huh, really?" Wait, how did she know that?

"Um-hm. Just like all bruises do. But it won't be as bad if you put something cold on it now," she said, moving toward the icebox.

She sounded like she was speaking from experience. Roy started to frown, but that only hurt his lip, so he settled for watching her as she rifled through the icebox in search of something suitable. Finally she chose a hunk of beef steak, which she carefully wrapped in another thin, clean dish cloth.

"Here, this should help," she said, offering it to him.

"Thanks. Oww," he hissed, as the cold beef hit his sore eye. "That short blonde guy is a lot stronger than he looks."

"You must mean Thomas. Yes, he is. I should have warned you about him, and his friends, but..."

"You didn't think I'd be here long enough for it to matter?" he supplied. She smiled a little.

"Well, yes. But also because they don't generally come out this direction. They're afraid of Papa."

"Yeah, that makes sense," he mumbled. Her eyes snapped to his.

"What do you mean?" she said, a little sharply. Roy flushed.

"Nothing, really. I just...got that impression." She said nothing for several moments, her eyes darting between his as though she could read the answers there.

"Will you tell me what happened?" she asked softly after a moment. Roy sighed.

"I was about a mile from home when I ran into them…" he began.

"Oi, new kid!" snapped a rough voice. I looked up, mildly surprised, as three burly looking boys materialized on the path around me.

"Hi," I said, a little warily. These guys looked a few years older than me, and were quite a bit larger. And the short blonde one who seemed to be the leader did not have a very friendly look on his face.

"What's your name, pretty boy?" he said sneeringly. I fought the impulse to roll my eyes. Starting off with a mild insult, so I'd know my place in the pecking order, was a childish move at best. This encounter was probably not going to go well.

"Roy Mustang. Nice to meet you," I said, shifting my bag of groceries to one arm and offering a hand. The other boy just glared back at me. At least I was trying to be civil. He dropped the pretense right then and there.

"So you're the one who's been toying with my little sister?" he snarled, blue eyes narrowed to slits.

"What? Toying with—I don't even know your sister," I protested, confused. "I've only been here for a few weeks, I barely know anyone—"

"Shut the hell up!" the second boy snapped. Another blue eyed blonde, taller and broader than the other. If possible, guy number two looked even angrier than the girl's brother. I thought I was beginning to understand the problem.

"Look, there seems to be some kind of mistake, here," I said, in what I hoped was a placating tone.

"Don't you even try lyin' to us, city boy," spat boy number two. "I saw you talking to Sarah!" The third one put his hand on number two's shoulder, as though to calm him down. But he just shrugged it off impatiently.

"I'm sure I talked to a bunch of people today, but I certainly haven't been toying with any of them," I said. Which girl could they possibly mean? I'd talked with...all right, flirted with, several older women in town today while in the market and the post office, but I couldn't think of a single one among them that was close enough to my own age to qualify as guy number one's sister.

The third boy, a green eyed brunet, seemed to be the most rational of the three. Shaking his head at the other two in a warning sort of way, he took over their half of the conversation.

"Look, kid, Rick here saw you with her at the post office today," he explained. "And she told Tom," who was presumably the older brother, "that she's talked to you a few times before."

I was beginning to lose my patience.

"I already told you that I hardly know anyone here. The only woman I speak to on a regular basis is Mrs. White, and since I very much doubt that she's your little sister, I really have no idea what you're talking about."

Mrs. White was the plump postmistress in her fifties that I often chatted with when dropping off or picking up my letters. The brunet was making a face like he was trying not to laugh. The other two boys, Tom and Rick, did not look so amused.

"You think you're so clever, city boy?" Tom growled. "Just because you're some big shot alchemy student?"

"I don't just think I'm clever, I know so," I retorted, unable to resist. "Alchemy sure as hell isn't easy, or else everyone would do it." The enraged expressions on their faces told me I'd better shut up, but I didn't care. "Now if you don't mind…" and I tried to keep walking. As one, they moved to block me.

"Oh but we do mind, don't we, guys?" Rick said, looming closer.

"I don't care how damn smart you think you are, you still got no right to be messing with my little sister, you little sonofa—" Tom snarled.

"All right, look," I interrupted him. "I still don't know what any of you are going on about. I'm sure that I'd remember talking to a pretty girl in town, and I don't, so I haven't. Okay?"

I knew I'd made a mistake when Tom clenched his fists and turned beet red.

"You saying my sister ain't pretty enough for you?" he roared.

"That's not what I—" I started to say. But Tom moved a lot faster than I expected, and he cuffed me upside the head, hard, before I'd even finished the thought.

"Oi, Tom," the brunet spoke up as I staggered. "Look out. What if someone sees us?" he said, looking around a little anxiously.

"Shut up, Harry," Tom and Rick both hissed.

There was a scuffle, which was shorter than I'd like to admit (though I did get in a few punches before Tom maneuvered behind me and pinned my arms back). I don't know exactly when I'd dropped the groceries, but they were still mostly undamaged at that point, just spilled at our feet. And then I opened my mouth again.

"Afraid to risk a fair fight, huh?" I wheezed.

"Let's see how pretty that face is when I'm through with you," Rick snarled savagely. His left hook left me seeing stars. Unfortunately, it didn't stop my mouth from moving.

"Doesn't matter what you do to my face; still won't improve yours any," I said. "No wonder your girlfriend has wandering eyes—have you ever looked in a mirror, pal?" Harry was looking at me in horror, but he made no move to stop Rick, who bellowed with rage and lunged. Tom, who had still been holding my arms, jumped aside instinctively and tripped over the spilled groceries lying there, tearing the bag wide open.

I started to duck, but Rick slammed into me like a speeding truck, tackling me to the ground with a heavy thud. And then we were rolling on the ground and pounding every inch of each other we could reach while we fought for the upper hand. Tom finally leaped in and dragged me off Rick with a whispered curse. He sort of threw me to one side, and I lay there panting and curled in on myself, while Rick struggled to his feet.

Tom kicked me viciously in the stomach and back a few times for good measure. Rick took out his rage on the food, which had been scattered a bit by our little wrestling match, stomping and kicking viciously as though picturing my face on each and every crumb. Harry seemed content to stand guard, and though he didn't add to the damage being inflicted, he still made no move to stop the others.

"We should go before he sees us," he finally said, looking in the direction of sensei's house.

"Fine," Tom said with one last kick. We're done here anyways. Rick?" Rick took two long strides to me, grabbed a handful of my hair and wrenched my head close to his.

"Think of that as a warning, pretty boy," Rick growled in my ear. I was more than a little pissed to discover that he looked none the worse for our little scuffle. Meanwhile, I could feel blood running down my nose and lip.

"Stay the fuck away from Sarah or next time you won't get off so lightly," Tom added. Rick let go of me and I collapsed into the dirt. Then there was the sound of three pairs of feet running off along the road, distant laughing and whooping, and then nothing. I lay still for a few more minutes, catching my breath and waiting for the pounding in my ears to subside.

And wondered how in the world I was going to explain this to the girls.

After Roy finished, Riza just stared at him. And then, unexpectedly, she smiled.

"Was this your first fist fight, Mr. Mustang?" He heard an undercurrent of amusement in her tone. It was new, for her, and he found that he rather liked it.

"Ha, no, not exactly," he said. "But it is my first time fighting over a girl. I just wish I knew who I'm supposed to have seduced," he continued ruefully.

"I can't believe you made a move on Sarah Granger, and you don't even remember," Riza said, shaking her head. Roy snorted.

"She the town beauty or something?"

"You could say that. She's your age; works part-time at the post office. Um…average height, slim, curly brown hair and dark brown eyes…any of this sound familiar?"

"Crap," Roy said softly as realization hit him. "She's the quiet little clerk at the post office, isn't she?" Riza nodded. Roy groaned. "I've hardly said two words to her! Just 'hello,' and 'thanks,' after she gave me my letter today!" Riza was trying hard not to laugh, which Roy appreciated. "I dunno, maybe I smiled at her or something, but I swear that's all! How was I supposed to know the girl would construct some kind of romantic fantasy out of that—and then tell her brother about me, for heaven's sake?"

"He's probably just been waiting for an excuse," Riza said thoughtfully.

"What, to pound on me?"

"No, more like…the opportunity to put you in your place, I guess," she replied. "You're the new kid in town. You're studying alchemy with my father, which means that you're smart, brave and probably come from money," Roy opened his mouth to protest but Riza just shook her head. "To them. Don't think I don't know how they look at my father. He really should charge our neighbors more for his services, but he doesn't, and so they seem to think his rates for personal tutelage are astronomical because it's befitting of his station."

"I mean, his fees aren't exactly cheap, but yeah, I see your point," he conceded. "Sorry, go on?"

"It's just that—you're different," she explained. "You aren't from around here. People notice."

"I think I see where you're going with this," he said. "You mean I'm a novelty."

"Well…yes and no. You're someone new, and that automatically makes you interesting. But you're also polite and charming, and you talk and dress differently than the farmers and shopkeepers in town. And being an alchemy apprentice gives you a sort of prestige, too."

Roy was a little disappointed to note that Miss Riza said all of these things without a trace of discomfiture, meaning that she didn't intend to pay him any compliments. On the contrary, she spoke with the same quiet confidence she'd had when giving him cooking tips the day before. She was simply giving him her honest opinion of how other people viewed him. While he would have been better pleased if she'd blushed or stammered or shown some other sort of consciousness when describing him as "interesting," "polite and charming," Roy decided he was just happy that she was talking to him so openly these days.

"Big fish in a small pond?" he joked, smiling.

"Right. You draw attention wherever you go without even trying."

"Which draws attention away from them," he said, nodding. "Attention that they're used to being the center of."

"Mmhm. You're threatening their 'status.'"

"Geez," Roy sighed. "It's all so childish."

"I agree. But then, they are great big children," she smiled. "Honestly, I doubt Sarah ever said anything other than that she'd seen you today," Riza added. "But Rick is sweet on her, which everyone in town knows except for her. And her brother has always been way too protective of his little sisters. I don't think Harry would be so bad if he didn't hang around the other two so much. Or if he just stood up to them once in a while."

"Yeah, he was the only one who didn't hit me. Didn't stop the other two, mind you, but at least he didn't get in a cheap shot while I was down. Ouch," he mumbled, and gingerly felt his lip again.

"You ought to put something on your lip, too," Riza said, untying her apron and draping it over her chair. "I think I have some antiseptic salve in my bathroom cabinet, I'll bring it down for you later."

"Yeah, thanks…" he said absently, running a hand through his hair. Riza limped carefully over to the counter and began thoughtfully turning over the damaged groceries, assessing them as Roy had earlier.

"Well, we can make do with this for the time being," she murmured. "This amount of flour will be just enough for the dumplings if I add a bit of cornmeal to them, and I can make baked apples instead of an apple pie for dessert…Rather difficult to make dumplings without milk, though, so it's a good thing we still have a bit left over from last week..."she trailed off, still doing mental calculations.

"I'll replace the damaged stuff, Miss Hawkeye," Roy said, removing the steak from his eye and starting to stand. "Just let me run upstairs and get my allowance and I'll go right now—"

"Please don't," she interrupted. "You aren't responsible for the cost of replacements. What happened wasn't even your fault. And we have enough to get by on for the next few days; you don't need to make a special trip."

"But—" he started to protest.

"Please don't go, Mr. Mustang," she said again with such a pleading expression that Roy couldn't help but give in.

"Well…if you insist," he said, allowing her to push him gently back into his chair. "But I'm coming with you next time you go," Roy said firmly. The corners of Riza's mouth twitched, and her eyes sparkled, but she said nothing. "What?" he asked, intrigued by the look on her face.

"I didn't say anything," she replied, eyebrows raised, slight surprise replacing the fleeting expression that had captured Roy's attention.

"No, but you wanted to, I can tell. Come on, out with it," he prompted. "I can take it. Let me guess—you were thinking you can't send a boy to do a man's job, right?" And there it was again, a sarcastic little smirk and the light of laughter in her dark eyes.

"Well..." she said, a little tentatively, "I was going to say that I'll probably be safer going alone, if the Terrible Trio has it out for you." The teasing lilt to her tone combined with that look in her eye was simply enchanting.

"Low blow!" Roy cried, and melodramatically clutched his chest as though physically struck. "Right in my ego!" Riza giggled, and Roy beamed back at her. Growing suddenly bold, she nodded decisively.

"All right. We'll go together next week," she said.

"Oh, so I'm allowed to come now?" Roy asked, still grinning. "Even though I'm a marked man and all?" What she said next both surprised and thrilled him.

"Don't worry—I'll protect you," she answered, in a voice warm with amusement. Though he didn't know it yet, it wasn't the last time she'd say such a thing.

A.N. A little Roy whumpage for you, just to make things even after knocking poor Riza about in recent weeks :) I really must have a sadistic streak; hurting the characters is rather a recurring theme of mine...though I suppose it IS a trope for a reason. Anyway, thanks for the reviews/follows/favorites, folks!

xoxo Janie