Sparklers and Syncope

January 2nd

Returning to the Hawkeyes' felt like coming home.

Roy was pleasantly surprised to find Riza waiting for him at the train station when he arrived. They hadn't really discussed his travel plans before he'd gone, but he'd assumed she wouldn't trouble about meeting him. It wasn't as though he didn't know the way, this time.

"Miss me?" he greeted her with a wide smile. Her lips quirked in amusement.

"Oh, have you been away? No wonder it's been so quiet," she teased. Gesturing to the basket on her arm, she added: "I had some errands in town and thought we might as well go back together."

Upon closer inspection, Riza seemed a little pale and drawn, but she'd simply shaken her head and insisted everything was fine when Roy had tried to ask whether anything was bothering her. It didn't take a genius to see that she was lying.

Hawkeye-sensei was conspicuously absent upon their return to the house, and Roy noticed that the laboratory door was closed when he followed Riza into the kitchen. How long had he been locked in there this time? Long enough for his daughter to be in a state of low-level panic, apparently. Before Roy had thought of a tactful way to ask, though, Riza glanced back over her shoulder and told him dinner would be ready shortly.

Their meal was a pleasant one in spite of Riza's palpable anxiety. To welcome him back, she had prepared Roy's favorite meal, complete with chocolate cake for dessert. As they ate, Roy shared as many amusing stories from his visit home as he could, determined to do something about the strained look on her pretty face. And by the time dinner was over, Riza was finally smiling a little, although her eyes still held an intense melancholy. She lapsed back into a thoughtful silence as they cleared the table and washed up.

Time to pull out the big guns, then, Roy thought as he dried the last plate.

"I was going to wait until it was warmer out to give you your present, but since we've just been talking about the holidays..." he began, trailing off deliberately. That got her attention.

"My present?" she repeated, with an inquisitive expression.

"Yup!" he replied, beaming at her. "You'll have to come outside to get it, though."

"What is it?" she wondered aloud, even as Roy steered her out of the kitchen and towards the stairs.

"I can't tell you that; it's meant to be a surprise!" he chided lightly. "Go get your coat and meet me out back, behind the garden, okay?"

Riza complied at once, darting up the stairs towards her bedroom. Roy waited until she was out of sight and then lunged for the hall closet. After hastily pulling on his own coat, he retrieved the small satchel he'd stashed in the corner of the closet when he'd arrived earlier. Wrapping his new scarf snugly around his neck, with a book of matches safely tucked in his pocket, Roy slipped outside.

Rifling through the satchel and glancing over his shoulder at regular intervals, he worked as quickly as he could. He arranged each of the fireworks he'd brought on the hard-packed earth behind Riza's kitchen gardens, taking care to keep them well away from the dry brush of the surrounding fallow fields. After all, accidently starting the fire that ended up burning a girl's house down would make for a terrible present.

At last, he heard the back door creak on its aging hinges, followed by Riza's soft footsteps padding along the path. Blocking her view as best he could, Roy took a few steps toward her and held out his hands in wordless expectation. She hesitated for just a moment before tentatively placing her hands in his.

"Close your eyes," he commanded. Riza just shot him a suspicious glare. "Just for a minute. Please?" he pleaded, squeezing their joined hands lightly.

"Oh, all right," she relented, hiding her smile. Roy released one of her hands and carefully wrapped the chilled fingers of the other around one of the sparklers, watching her face closely to be sure she wasn't peeking. Running a puzzled thumb along the slender metallic stick in her hand, Riza furrowed her brow and fidgeted a little. "Can I look yet?" she asked.

"Just one more second..." Roy said, lighting a match. As he held it close to the tip of the sparkler, he grinned in anticipation. "Okay, now!" The firework sputtered to life just as Riza's eyes flew open.

"Oh!" she gasped. Roy watched her expression shift from surprise to comprehension to complete enchantment.

The silvery light of the sparkler made Riza's soft dark eyes glitter, just as he'd imagined. And her face did indeed glow with a ghostly beauty in the dim light. The openness and honesty of her delighted expression only enhanced the effect. He'd never read happiness quite so clearly on her features as he did at that moment, and it made something deep within him thrill in response.

"They're called sparklers," he said in a slightly husky voice. "What do you think?"

"It's beautiful," she breathed. "I can't believe–this is amazing!" Roy grinned unabashedly as he lit two more sparklers from the one in her hand just before it went out. Trading her for the spent one, he waved his own in the air in front of them.

"When we were little, we used to use them to write in the air," he confessed with a nostalgic little chuckle. "With the afterimage, you know? Like this, watch." Feeling like a little kid again, Roy used the sparkling wand in his hand to spell out his name with the trailing light. Riza giggled and imitated him, writing her own name in swirling cursive.

"I think this is the nicest present I've ever received," she said, positively radiant with happiness. "Thank you, Mr. Mustang."

"You're welcome. Besides, it's the least I could do, after you made me such a great gift," he added, tugging at his scarf with his free hand. Even in the low light, he saw Riza flush up with pleasure.

"I'm glad you like it," she replied a little shyly.

"I love it," he corrected her. "And how could I not, when you made it?" Before she had time to feel embarrassed by the compliment, Roy handed her a third firework. "Here. This one's called a Morning Glory. It's supposed to change colors as it burns," he explained.

"Really?" she asked, eyeing it somewhat skeptically. Roy chuckled.

"So the vender said, anyway. If it's a dud, we can try out the Poppers next."

"The what? Oh, look!" she cried, distracted by the sparks that had changed from silver to a bright red-orange.

"Not a dud, then, good," Roy grinned, suddenly absurdly pleased. Riza smiled back at him over the warm amber light between them, which was already lightening to a cheerful golden yellow.

"I wonder how they get it to do that," she wondered aloud, glancing back down. Before Roy could explain about the chemical compounds used in the process, Riza's eyes flicked back up to his face. "I'm sorry; I interrupted you just now. What were you saying? About the ones you wanted to show me next?"

"Oh, right. Poppers," Roy said. "They're full of flash powder, so each one makes a loud popping sound as it goes off. Hence the name."

"Fitting," Riza agreed, still twirling her Morning Glory, which had just turned a bright green. "But wait a minute…just how many fireworks did you bring?"

"You'll see," he replied with a mischievous grin. "Wait til the sparks on that turn blue; we can use the end to light the string of Poppers."

"Okay. Oh, there it goes!" she said, as the sparks faded to a deep indigo blue.

"You want to do it?" Roy asked. She nodded eagerly. He led her across to one the fireworks he'd prepared before and pointed out the fuse. "As soon as it catches, we'll want to back up a few feet," he added prudently.

The short black fuse caught and sputtered as the Morning Glory finally faded, and Roy gently pulled Riza several feet away to a safer distance. Riza watched in fascination as the fuse burned closer to the linked chain of brightly colored cylinders. When the first one burst apart loudly, she jumped, unprepared for the noise in spite of Roy's warning. At the next pop, she reflexively caught and held Roy's arm. He didn't mind, although he staggered a bit when she jumped again without letting him go. By the time the last of them had gone off, they were clinging to each other and giggling like children.

"This is such fun!" Riza cried. "I wish we had something like these for our Festival."

"I just wish I could have brought you something more than the little novelties," Roy replied. "The big aerial displays are the real beauties, but they don't let anyone buy those unless they're licensed. Although people still smuggle them in illegally from Xing, sometimes."

"And how do you know that?" Riza asked, with more amusement than disapproval in her tone.

"Well, remember when I mentioned my friends from school? Fred and George? I forgot to mention that George currently lacks eyebrows," he said impishly. "Due to an unfortunate miscalculation on Fred's part involving some fireworks of questionable legality. Made it kinda hard to deny their involvement when the MPs showed up, lemme tell you," he added with a laugh. "And it didn't help that one of the rockets was still spewing pink and purple sparks all over their back porch, either!"

Riza's laughter was almost musical, and Roy was relieved to see that the tension in her slender frame had all but vanished. One by one, he showed her all of the other items he'd brought for her: Jumping Jacks, which spun on the ground as red and green sparks shot out along the edges, an Ash Snake, which was a hard pellet that produced a long carbon 'snake' as it burned, and a cone fountain, which sprayed bright golden sparks several feet into the air. Each delighted her more than the last, although when pressed, she confessed that the simple sparklers were her favorites.

"Good thing you have a whole box, then," Roy said, handing it over with a flourish.

"I can't believe you did all this for me," she said softly, taking it with both hands. "Thank you so much for this, Mr. Mustang." Roy rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly.

"You're welcome. I'm, erm, I'm really glad you liked them," he managed. "You should, ah, save the rest of those for next year. Take them with you to the Harvest Festival, maybe, show the others. Who knows, maybe you can start a new tradition!" Riza's face glowed.

"I'd like that," she murmured, falling silent. And then, with a dubious glance around them: "We should probably clean this up."

"It can wait til morning," Roy said. "It's too dark to see properly anyway; we're bound to miss some if we try to do it now. We may as well save it for tomorrow and get it all done in one go."

"You make a very persuasive argument," Riza said mock-seriously. "Tomorrow it is." They walked back inside together, Riza still clutching the nearly full box of sparklers to her chest.

It was later than either of them had realized, so they locked up and extinguished lights as they moved through the house. Riza paused for a long moment at the laboratory door before shaking herself slightly. As they walked upstairs, Riza turned to Roy with a solemn expression.

"I'm glad you're back," she admitted.

"Even though you didn't notice I was gone?" Roy teased gently.

"I noticed," she murmured. Roy, knowing what she wanted to say, smiled to himself.

"And I missed you, too," he returned. "Good night, Riza."

"Good night," she replied, smiling.

January 3rd 3:54 am

He was wakened some hours later by small hand shaking his shoulder.

"Mr. Mustang...Roy Mustang, wake up!"

Groggily, he opened his eyes to find Riza's pale face inches from his own. In her haste to wake him, she hadn't thought to turn on his lamp, but he could see the fear in her eyes clearly enough without its aid.

"I'm up, I'm up," he mumbled, struggling to sit upright. She leaned back slightly to give him more space but retained her perch on the edge of his bed. "What's the matter?"

"It's Papa," she said in a trembling voice. "I heard a loud noise—a crash and then a heavy thud—from the lab. And now it's completely quiet inside, and he didn't answer when I called, and I can't open the door, and I think he might be hurt," she finished in a rush.

The lingering cobwebs in his head cleared in an instant. Roy kicked his covers back and swung his feet to the floor, forgetting that he'd gone to sleep in only a ratty pair of cotton pajama pants. Considering the circumstances, though, neither he nor Riza noticed or cared.

"How long had he been in there, this time?" he asked urgently. Riza shivered, her face starting to crumple.

"Fo-four days," she half-sobbed. Roy swore softly.

"He hasn't come out at all; you're sure?" he pressed.

"I've been keeping watch. Every time I tried to speak to him through the door he yelled at me to leave; that I was disrupting his research. I don't think he's slept or eaten anything," she added tremulously.

Scrubbing a hand over his face, Roy cast about for his clothes. Without a trace of self-consciousness, he shucked his pajama pants before pulling on jeans and a shirt. He hesitated a moment, and then shoved his feet into boots. He had a feeling this would end with a trip to fetch Doctor James. The moment his boots were on, Riza rose and led the way.

He clattered down the steps on Riza's heels, and halted before the laboratory, as she did. Frowning, he rattled the knob of the locked door, confirming that it was in fact still bolted from the inside.

"Sensei?" he called, pounding a fist on the door. "Sensei, can you hear me? Are you all right?" He paused to listen, but heard nothing but the sound of his own heart thundering as he pressed his ear to the door. "Sir? If you don't answer us, we're coming in!" he added, in slightly louder voice. Still nothing. Riza turned to him with a panicked face.

"But how can we? There's no other key besides his, and he has that," she said shakily. Roy slipped a reassuring arm around her shoulders.

"Yeah, but we know that the door is made of oak and reinforced steel, right? And the bolt is right about here?" he added, tapping a finger on the surface. Riza calmed somewhat as she realized what he was saying.

"Oh, of course, how stupid I am," she whispered. "Please, hurry." Roy was already fumbling in his pockets for chalk.

With intense concentration, he made a small circle just above the door handle, scribbling out the symbols with a sure and steady hand in spite of his own anxiety. What if they were too late…? No, no time to worry about that, he thought, finishing his array. Focus.

"Ready?" he asked, more to himself than to Riza. She nodded anyway, wrapping her arms tightly around herself as she took a few steps back. Roy took a deep breath, placed his hands on the door, and activated the circle. The wooden surface of the door buckled and bubbled and then peeled away, folding in on itself to open up a perfectly round hole, which would be just large enough for Roy to reach an arm through. As the crackling light from the reaction faded, he did just that, deftly unlocking the tumbler lock and the deadbolt from the inside.

Prepared for the worst, Roy threw open the door and darted down the short flight of stairs. Hawkeye-sensei was lying on his side, sprawled next to the lab table in the center of the room. Innumerable flasks, flagons, beakers and test tubes were jumbled together on the table; he'd clearly been in the middle of some kind of chemical test. His chair also lay on its side nearby, and there were shards of broken glass just beside it, which accounted for the noise Riza had heard. He must have knocked over the chair when he'd fallen, dropping a beaker to the floor in the process.

"Papa!" Riza cried, squeezing past Roy and dropping to her knees beside her father, heedless of the shards of glass strewn across the ground.

"Careful, Riza, the glass," Roy cried, crouching beside her as she reached for Berthold's shoulder. "You'll cut yourse—oh, my god."

Hawkeye-sensei looked terrible. Until he saw the slight movement of his ribs, indicating that the man was still breathing, Roy thought for a heart-stopping moment that his teacher was dead. His face was gray and waxy, and his cheeks looked even more sunken than usual. Carefully rolling him onto his back, the two teens saw the bright crimson pool of blood that was still sluggishly running from a cut on his temple. His skin was ice cold under their searching hands.

"He must have hit his head when he fell," Roy said, half to himself. "We should try and stop the bleeding. And get him a blanket; it's freezing!" Riza was already scrambling to her feet when Roy reached out a hand to stop her. "No, wait, you haven't got any shoes on. I'll be right back."

"There's a quilt in the living room. On the couch," Riza called to his departing back.

He returned moments later with a clean dishcloth, a glass of water, and the quilt from the couch. In his absence, Riza had used her dressing gown to sweep the majority of the glass away from her father so that she could shift closer to him. She was holding one of his hands in both of her own, gently chafing it in an attempt to warm it with friction. Roy quickly tucked the blanket over Berthold's still form and dabbed gently at his temple with a dampened edge of the dishcloth.

"I think it looks worse than it is," he said softly, peering at it closely. "Head wounds always bleed quite a bit. He's probably dehydrated from not eating or drinking anything in the past couple days. I thought we should try to get him to drink this if he wakes up, but…" he trailed off as his teacher moaned and stirred slightly. "Sensei? Can you hear me?" He tapped his teacher's face lightly with the back of his hand.

"Papa?" Riza gasped as the man's eyelids fluttered. His limbs twitched as though he was trying to push himself upright, and then went limp again as he slipped back into unconsciousness.

Riza looked at Roy, her eyes pleading.

"Yeah, I think we should get the doc out here, too," he sighed. "Will you be all right on your own?"

"Yes," she replied in a small voice. Roy nodded grimly and rose, leaving the glass of water sitting on the ground beside her just in case. He darted up the stairs and returned a minute later with his heaviest winter coat, which he draped over Riza's shivering frame.

"Hang in there. I'll be back as soon as I can, all right?" She placed her hand over his where it lingered on her shoulder and gave it a tight squeeze.

"Thank you," she whispered.

Thrusting his arms into the sleeves of his jacket as he went, Roy set off down the road at a brisk trot. It was still dark, eerily quiet and calm, and cold enough that he could see his breath. By the time he wished he'd thought to bring a light, he was already too far along the road to turn back. For all he knew, a moment's delay could mean the difference between Hawkeye-sensei's rapid recovery and…not. He picked up his pace.

Having run most of the way, Roy was panting heavily as he pounded desperately at the door of the James home. He hadn't remembered his watch, so he had no idea of the time, except that it was still some ungodly hour before dawn. Fortunately the doctor was accustomed to being roused at all hours for medical assistance. He opened the door within minutes, already partially dressed and only slightly disheveled.

"Mr. Mustang?" Dr. James asked with some surprise. "What's happened, my boy?"

"Please, sir, you have to come. Hawkeye-sensei, he's collapsed in the lab. He's still unconscious and he's freezing cold and we don't think he's eaten anything for days, and I left Miss Riza all alone with him," Roy babbled. Meanwhile, the doctor was rapidly doing up the buttons on his half-open shirt and reaching for his medical bag.

"This way, young man. I've got the car parked behind the house," he said, guiding Roy with a firm hand on his shoulder. As he drove, Dr. James questioned Roy carefully about what he and Riza had seen. With each answer, his frown deepened. When they pulled up to the house, he was out of the car even faster than Roy.

When they entered the lab, they found Riza bent low over her father's supine form, still chafing one of his hands in hers. She looked up at them, eyes bright.

"He's drifting in and out," she said. "He was trying to say something a moment ago." Even as she spoke, her father let out a low moan and turned his head towards them.

With his brisk, no-nonsense manner, Dr. James knelt beside his patient and began checking his pulse, gently prodding at his bleeding temple, shining a penlight into his eyes, and frowning at the gray pallor of his skin.

"Mild hypothermia," he muttered, sounding irritated. "Poor skin turgor, so dehydrated as well, minor laceration on the temple, should heal up on its own without stitches, but we can bandage that later…Hmm…nice little goose-egg forming, but I think we can rule out the concussion, at least. You say he hasn't eaten?" This last he addressed to Riza, who shook her head.

"I've been leaving food out, but he hasn't touched it. I don't think he had anything in here with him." Dr. James raised a questioning brow. "He locks himself in, sometimes, when he's working," she explained quickly. "It'd been four days, this time." Her voice quavered slightly at the final words, the only obvious sign of her distress.

Dr. James frowned deeply and opened his mouth to say something, but he was interrupted by a soft noise from Berthold, who finally seemed to be aware of his surroundings and was glaring round at them all as though they had somehow caused this.

It took the combined efforts of Roy and Dr. James to help Berthold upright into a sitting position, as weak as he was. Rearranging the quilt over his shoulders, Dr. James quickly confirmed their assumption that he hadn't been eating for the past several days. Berthold seemed genuinely surprised when they told him four days had passed since he'd locked himself in the lab.

Riza was directed to fetch a glass of lukewarm water with several heaping spoons of sugar stirred in. Berthold glowered but drank the concoction without complaint, avoiding his daughter's eyes. Dr. James attended to the head wound with brisk, efficient movements while giving Riza careful instructions about Berthold's meals for the next few days.

"I know it's tempting to go overboard with big, hearty meals to try and feed him up a bit," he was saying. "But that would ultimately cause more problems than it would solve. We don't want to shock his system."

Not for the first time, Dr. James marveled at Miss Riza's self-possession and maturity. Under similar circumstances, most of the teenage girls he knew would have been crying and carrying on (not without good reason, of course, though privately he detested the unnecessary dramatics). But Miss Riza stayed calm, looked him in the eye, and asked him questions with a steady voice.

After another glass of water and a bit of toast, Berthold felt strong enough to stand. Dr. James helped him up to his bedroom. Roy and Riza followed automatically. As they entered the suite of rooms that was Berthold's own domain, Roy realized he'd never actually seen this part of the house before. The main door opened into a sort of dressing room, which reminded Roy strongly of the parlor downstairs and had undoubtedly been decorated by the late Mrs. Hawkeye as well. Beyond it was the master bedroom and what he assumed was the bathroom. Pausing in the dressing room area, Doctor James gently asked Roy and Riza to give him a moment to speak to his patient in private.

Roy and Riza huddled together on a chaise lounge, waiting. Riza was still wearing Roy's coat over her thin nightclothes, and Roy's right arm was wrapped securely around her slender waist. Although he had to lean a little awkwardly to manage it, his left hand was entwined with hers and resting on his knee. The doctor's low, soothing murmur was difficult to hear in places, but they caught a few snatches of the conversation through the connecting door when he raised his voice.

"...at a critical stage, but you must understand...cannot happen again...they were both terrified...and supposing he hadn't thought to...without so much as a spare key...starvation is no laughing matter…might've died, you fool!"

The sun was finally beginning to rise by the time the doctor had finished lecturing Master Hawkeye. Closing the bedroom door behind him with a weary sigh, his lips quirked upwards slightly when he saw their expectant faces, putting them both at ease.

"There, now. No need to look so anxious. He'll be all right after plenty of rest and fluids. We've already discussed his dietary needs over the next several days," he said, nodding to Riza. "But after that, he may resume his usual routine. Well, except for the part where he loses himself in his research and forgets to eat until his body gives out on him, of course," he amended. Roy thought he heard the words 'damn stubborn fool' muttered under the doctor's breath, but he couldn't be sure.

"Is there anything else I should do, doctor?" Riza asked quietly. Dr. James's expression softened as he turned to her.

"No, my child. You've done everything you can for the time being. You should both get some rest. I'll be back in a day or two to check up on him, but you know where to find me if you need anything before then," he fumbled in his pockets as they walked him downstairs. "Ah, here it is. Hang on to this, my dear."

He handed Riza a small silver key. She stared down at it for a moment and then closed her fingers very slowly around it, tightening her grip until her knuckles turned white.

"Is that—?" Roy asked, looking at the doctor.

"The key to his lab, yes," the older man replied. "I suggested to him that it would be more prudent to have a spare copy in case of future emergencies such as this one," he shook his head, the furrow in his brow deepening . "He's extremely fortunate that—well, never mind that now," he sighed.

"I'll have a copy made tomorrow," Riza said softly.

"Good girl," Dr. James replied, smiling down at her. "You've always been a sensible girl. And both of you have done very well, keeping your heads and remaining calm through all this excitement tonight. I'm very impressed with how you've handled yourselves."

"Thank you, sir. We appreciate all your help," Roy murmured politely. Beside him, Riza had stiffened and turned pale.

"Thank you, Dr. James," she said demurely.

With a small, approving nod at her remarkable equanimity, Dr. James bid them a good morning and let himself out. What he didn't see was the way Riza's face crumpled as soon as the door shut behind him, or the way that Roy wrapped his arms around her and buried his face in her hair, murmuring quiet words of reassurance and comfort as she swallowed back her tears and shivered against him.

And Roy was very well aware that he was one of a very privileged few who would ever see this vulnerable side of her.

"It's all my fault," she whispered into his chest. He shushed her and ran a hand down her back.

"We both know that's not true," Roy sighed.

"I should've tried harder to get in, before. I gave up too easily."

"Hawkeye-sensei is a grown man who knows better, Riza. This is not your fault; it's his."

"I'm supposed to look after him," she protested, still trembling slightly.

"Shh, stop. It's not your fault," Roy managed through the lump in his throat. Oh Riza, he thought. You have it all wrong. He's supposed to look after you.

A.N. I'm totally blown away by the fact that I officially have over 200 reviews for this story. You guys are amazing, and I appreciate each and every one of you. Oh, and a special thank you to my dear guest reviewers, who I am unable to thank individually.

xoxo Janie