Chapter 8 - A Leap in Time

When Riza woke up, she knew she had slept in. Her body felt heavy. Her arm throbbed and churned against the cushions. She was on her back, so at least she wasn't lying on the wound with her entire weight. She had a feeling the bandage hadn't survived the night though. When opening her eyes proved too much of an effort, she wondered how she would manage to drag herself to the bathroom, remove the soaked and dried up gauze and apply a new one.

Despite all that, she had slept soundly – at least the soundest since Roy's transformation.

Deciding against peeling her eyes open, Riza allowed herself another minute of rest. Her every muscle screamed with ache. It was impossible to relax, had it not been for the roughly twenty kilos snuggled safely atop her. Mere twenty kilos. An itch stung her eyes at the thought alone – she could have cried at any given moment of the day if she let herself.

"Are you awake?" he whispered.

In spite of herself, a small smile edged onto Riza's lips. Even barely vocalised, his voice was adorable. And he was there – alive and innocent.

The Roy she knew might have been gone, but her life's purpose was still right there, this time permanently chained to her. She wanted to kick herself for the tiniest flutter of relief in her chest. He needed her, perhaps more than ever.

"How late is it?" Riza craned her neck, still refusing to open her eyes. The soreness only worsened, her neck so stiff that moving it induced an immediate headache. She would have to ask one of the men to drive.

"I don't know," Roy said.

Riza sighed, her smile returning weakly. For him, the world was still simple; black and white. There was no urgency or apology behind his words – she had asked a question and he had given her the answer he was capable of.

Riza shifted to reach for Roy's State Alchemist's watch in her pocket. She instantly regretted it. Pain flared through her arm as if she was clutching an electric fence and not letting go.

Roy went still.

"It's alright," Riza croaked. She hoped rubbing his back would conceal the barely stifled groan fighting its way up her throat.

Roy took her hand off, keeping hold with both of his. For a second, Riza almost thought he was back to normal – holding her hand fondly, brushing his lips to the tips of her fingers, trailing kisses down to her wrist…

She forced her eyes open. Roy was still a child. Her hand was in his tiny ones. He was tapping the pad of her index finger, then went onto the next, and the next.

0713 hours. Riza closed the pocket watch, sinking back into the cushions. Roy followed. Leaning over, he reached out for her hair. It made her wonder if his mother had had similar hair, at least in length. She focused on any and all of his movements to blank out the pain lighting her upper arm on fire.

"Do you miss me as a grown-up?" he asked in his sweet child's voice.

Riza screwed her eyes shut. She couldn't look at him as she whispered, "So much."

"What am I like?" He twirled a lengthening strand of her hair between his fingers. She rested her previously captured hand on his back, feeling him relax.

"If we won't find a way to reverse this alchemy, I want you to grow up the way you want to be," she deflected. The last thing he needed now was more pressure and someone else's expectations burdening him.

But Roy gave a discontent, and then a pleading sound, insisting. Riza met his gaze. Wordlessly, she checked how serious he was. His eyes shone at her expectantly, rather like a boy awaiting his birthday presents than one about to have the subject of an upcoming exam announced. She let her eyes stray to the ceiling.

"You're… suave."

"Suvave?"

"Charming and… gentlemanly. Most of the time." Riza smiled at the wonder in his eyes. "You have the reputation that you avoid paperwork like the pest – and for a reason – but despite all that, you're very smart and hardworking. You tend to put others' needs before yours. You forget to eat or sleep enough whenever you deem your current goal more important."

"My goal?"

"Mhm," she hummed, "you are very ambitious. So much so that you make plans not only for yourself, but all of us; the entire country."

"The entire country…"

"When you become passionate about your goals, you sometimes forget where you are or what you were doing. You have a talent though – those around you never want to stop listening. You can change the mood of almost any situation, but you always know when it's appropriate to do so.

"You are very empathetic, while at the same time, you don't just hand out pity – your respect must be earned. It's profound and makes those you grant it feel safe. There was this one time," Riza chuckled, "when a civilian had barricaded the door to a building that was under attack. He was scared to death; he had only locked the doors out of fear.

"But when you arrived at the scene and praised him for his quick reaction, he was as if exchanged. He followed you around like a puppy, and he reported to the police, even accused the offenders to their faces, all because you had given him the courage to stand up for what was right.

"You inspire people, and not just in the line of duty. You're popular at any bar. You have this… bold and cold focus in your eyes on missions, but afterwards you always need a long warm shower to calm your nerves." Riza was smiling again, this time more to herself. "You're human, no matter what title the military gives you.

"And you're brave." She gently trailed the backs of her fingers down his cheek. "But that, you already knew."

He mirrored her smile tenfold, chest puffed out proudly atop hers.

"Brave and kind."

"And I like stew."

"And you like stew," Riza chuckled. "You're not picky with food, but with drinks all the more."

"Really?"

"Mmh," she affirmed softly. "You might not have the most well-equipped flat, but you're a phenomenal host and you're never above sharing your best brandy."

"What's brandy?"

"A kind of drink – I don't think you've liked it until you were twenty."

"Are you still making me the stew when I'm twenty-seven?"

Riza opened her mouth to reply when something caught her eye. She froze, as did her smile. Slowly, cautiously, she turned her head to the side. Iron tinged her tongue with how hard she bit it, more blood shooting hotly into her cheeks.

Breda grazed her eyes from behind the paper he was reading. Some ancient, musty paper – she was sure he hadn't actually read a word, casually eavesdropping instead. The amused smile in his eyes told her as much. He hadn't even turned a page in minutes, sitting there in the armchair, his ankle crossed over his knee.

Riza's blush reached all the way up to her ears, her neck searing into the pillow below. She wanted to feel lucky that she had spotted him before giving a reply to the last question, but it proved harder and harder with that smirk growing over the rim of the damn paper.

"Let's get ready," she told Roy. Gently, she shoved him off her, then briskly disappeared in the bathroom. Breda snickered to himself. He stifled it when she returned to fetch her bag, but his smile never left.

"Did I do something wrong?" Roy asked Breda, clueless.

Breda's smirk mellowed. "Nah, it's just that I've never heard her talk like that before."

"About me?" Roy pointed at himself. Breda gave a nod. "Don't you think I'm… swave?"

"Oh, you're very suave – judging by the way she just raved about you." Breda added more quietly, leaving Roy at a loss.

The front door opened.

Havoc was putting out a cigarette against the sole of his shoe. "I stowed away our bags and changed the license plates," he reported. "Where's Hawkeye? And what are you all smug for?" He had to laugh briefly when seeing Roy grin self-complacently.

"Taking the ladies by storm," Breda chanted. "Again."

"Is she okay?" Havoc was by the bathroom door before Breda could answer. "Hawkeye," he knocked, "you let us know if we can help, hey?"

"I'll be out in a minute," she replied.

He lingered for a moment longer, then shrugged his understanding.

Packing up what was left on the couch, he let Roy help him carry. Once out of earshot, he used his chance to ask both Roy and Breda about the up until then sheer impossibility of Riza Hawkeye swooning. And he cursed when the two gleefully kept their lips sealed.

"Welcome back," Fuery greeted them once everyone had snuck into Riza's flat.

The curtains were drawn – as agreed upon – and the lights on. Hayate happily greeted both Riza and Roy, Roy laughing at the way Hayate sprayed them with water.

"Sorry, we just came back from our walk," Fuery excused. "The lookouts disappeared – there was nobody watching tonight. They must have given up on monitoring your place since I adhered closely to your habitual schedule." He saluted dutifully.

"I'll say." Havoc popped an unlit cigarette between his lips. "Was this part of those habits?" He lightly kicked the Master Sergeant's shin, nudging up the hem of his trousers.

Fuery blushed. "I had to walk Hayate in disguise!" He pointed at Hayate as if he could back him up. The latter wagged his tail at the sound of his name.

Riza frowned. When Breda started snickering, she finally saw the nylon tights the Master Sergeant had not yet had the time to take off. At least he had exchanged the take skirt for trousers.

"Only now the neighbours will think Hawkeye shrunk and stopped shaving her legs," Havoc laughed.

"No…" Fuery sighed sadly. The men exchanged a glance, then broke out into laughter. Riza shushed them. She had to give up when it was no use. They were worse than after a night of drinks. Highly amused, they pestered the Master Sergeant until he revealed his legs, shaved for the sake of the mission. "I can have your coat and scarf washed, Lieutenant," Fuery offered. He had needed the disguise.

"And the skirt too, right?" Havoc laughed hoarsely. Breda was still catching his breath, slapping his friend's shoulder to show his approval of the remark. Then he did the same to Fuery, this time as praise for his dedication and sacrifice. Fuery only let his head hang to hide his blush.

"It's alright, I have enough that needs washing anyway," Riza said.

It made Havoc regain his composure, trying to catch her gaze. She didn't meet his eyes.

Going to the kitchen, she put the kettle on. The men went to settle on the couch and chairs. Roy made sure Riza was right there in the kitchen, then, appeased, went back to playing with Hayate.

"I talked to Officer Falman this morning," Fuery reported. "Apparently, the military thinks that, because of the shot, there were two culprits involved and that the Colonel went missing looking for the second. They went to investigate the scene again."

"Right now?" Breda's eyes widened.

"Yesterday," Fuery said. "I was afraid they'd catch you, but from what Officer Falman said, you must have done a splendid job – no traces left."

"No traces left?" Havoc frowned. "We left it all there – we altered the circle to make it useless."

"I thought you wanted to set a fire," Fuery stuttered. Riza caught the men's eyes, unsettled. "So then it wasn't you?" Fuery stared at them. "The entire place burned down!"

"It what?" Havoc sat up straight.

"Burned to a crisp. There were no car tracks with the rain pouring down – which was why it was such a surprise that it had burned. It was clearly no accident. Lieutenant Colonel Cessna was furious."

"Cessna?"

"So then they're really not taking this all too seriously if not even a General takes part in the investigations. That might just save us a lot of trouble," Breda pondered aloud.

"They found a body burned nearly beyond recogn—" Fuery interrupted himself when Riza's eyes practically blazed him to ashes. He swallowed. Roy was still petting Hayate, but the movement of his arm had become slightly stiff. He must have heard. "They think it was some kind of criminal organisation erasing evidence."

"Good." Havoc took an imaginary drag from his cigarette, not allowed to light it.

Riza served the men tea and what was left of the cake. Afterwards, she sent Roy to get ready for bed. Fortunately, they had already eaten on the way back – hunched up in the car with a couple of soggy sandwiches and cold coffees.

"There was a report on the radio earlier," Fuery said once the door to the bathroom had shut. "I was listening in on the MPs, but when I later switched to The Voice of the East, they were already talking about it."

Breda narrowed his eyes. The Voice of the East was a public channel.

"They didn't have details, but a lot of speculations were pretty close to those of the official investigations."

"A spy in the military?" Havoc raised a brow.

"Hardly matters," Riza said. "If they're concerned with gangs and the supposed hiding of bodies, it will distract from the alchemic array."

"And with that the Colonel," Breda approved.

Havoc leaned back with a hearty sigh. "Mission accomplished, I'd say."

"Thank you for taking care of matters here," Riza told Fuery. The others nodded. "Let's just hope our efforts were enough for that… man."

"Hey, the entire place is in ashes," Havoc tried to reassure her.

"He might not believe us," Riza reminded warily. "And he might want us to erase all records in the archive should he get wind of previous investigations."

"I don't think the former will pose too big an issue." Breda stretched his arms over his head, then got up. "Remember how the radio of the prison guards was blaring when we went to talk to that lunatic? He might've already heard – and from unbiased sources." He went to the counter where Riza had jotted down another thing or two to buy, taking the list despite her protests.

"I can only repeat myself," Havoc supported Breda, "that it's the least we can do to buy some groceries. And that the offer still stands." He nodded over to the bathroom door.

Riza sighed. "Thank you, but I don't think—"

Crash! Something thudded loudly next door. Riza rushed to the bathroom. She was about to slip in, but froze in the doorway. The others peered around her.

The box for Roy to reach the sink had caved in with him on top. He sat there, rubbing his behind, face scrunched up in pain and surprise. Everyone else's faces were utter bewilderment.

Because there was no six-year-old sitting on the remains of a cardboard box. That boy – Roy – was at least ten.

He hissed, grumbling unhappily to himself. His cheeks were flushed, tears having sprung into his eyes. When he fleetly blinked them away, Riza thawed. She hurried to his side, putting her arm around him.

"Are you okay?" she asked, helping him sit properly. She looked from him to the box – the box he had suddenly become too heavy for. He had aged.

Roy huffed to hide a sniffle. "It's nothing," he lied, wiping his nose with his sleeve. The flinching of his leg told her otherwise when he got up, but as usual, he put on a brave face. He had regained awareness of the onlookers.

Riza hadn't yet.

On her knees, she ran her hands down his arms, then legs, up to the back of his head, checking for bruises or swelling.

"He's older…" Fuery breathed.

"How old exactly? Do you remember anything?" Havoc asked Roy directly. Riza retracted her hand self‑consciously, but couldn't tear her gaze off Roy.

"Sure," Roy said. "At least that I didn't do anything to end up like this – I just brushed my teeth," he defended himself, pointing at the toothbrush that was now on the floor. Hayate came over to sniff it, then Roy, effectively replacing the pained frown with a smile.

Seeing him smile mellowed Riza enough to calm down. She picked up the toothbrush, rinsed and replaced it on the sink. She had to actively refrain from running a hand through Roy's dishevelled hair.

"What did you do on your last birthday? Do you remember that?" Breda asked.

Roy nodded. Then he pursed his lips, glancing away slightly. "I don't know if I can tell you that," he carefully conceded.

"Oh, come on, we already know you're a ladies' man," Havoc tutted.

"You don't have to tell us." Riza couldn't help the hand in his hair anymore. "Only your age."

"Twelve."

"That's double his previous age," Fuery noted.

"So then maybe he did hear," Breda mused. "The alchemist."

"In any case, this is going to make it easier for me to sneak you into headquarters," Riza said to Roy. She hadn't truly grasped just how much hope this sudden transformation – successful, without harm, even from afar – was bestowing upon her. Inwardly, she was quaking. "Only we don't have any clothes for you…" She regarded the baggy shirt he had changed into for the night. It had been more of a nightgown, still reaching his knees now. He blushed, but kept from pulling it down. "And we can't go out shopping either…"

"If you take half the day off?" Havoc proposed. "You could come in when everyone's at lunch. We'll smuggle you through to the office."

"There will always be someone around…" Riza frowned unhappily.

"Not with the four of us on the lookout. It'll be easier now that he's older."

"Still, he can't go to the shops like this – it'll draw attention." And I'm not leaving him, it rang clearly in her statement.

With the case of the missing Colonel, two of the team simultaneously taking a leave was impossible. Not only that, but Roy had to be present in the shops to try on clothes.

"I'm not going out like this," Roy protested. They all blinked at him. It might have become easier to make him understand the importance of staying hidden, but he was no small child anymore. He had his pride.

Breda was the first to move, snickering. "Alright then, ladies," he nudged Fuery, "I think I'll leave this in your capable hands. At least one of us needs to be on time tomorrow." He waved the shopping list as goodbye. They each had to leave separately to avoid suspicion.

"I'll contact Officer Falman to see if he's still in the office – then he can file in the leave of absence," Fuery announced, retreating to his headphones on the table.

"Then how about…" Havoc followed. He returned to the bathroom with his bag from the mission. They had to leave everything at Riza's place as not to be seen carrying something big around town, no matter the late hour. Riza would put them in the car early in the morning, and they would pick them up one by one once they left the office.

Roy raised both brows when Havoc dug out a black, long-sleeved shirt and a pair of trousers.

"If we roll up the sleeves," Havoc held up the shirt in front of Roy, "a lot."

"Didn't you already wear this?" Roy asked dubiously. He might have (perhaps) been more serious when it came to taking orders, but he sure was a lot more… outspoken. Refined in his likes and dislikes.

"The pants, yeah." Havoc shrugged.

"It'll have to do," Riza sighed. "Are you sure you're not going to need them anymore?" she asked Havoc. He tilted his head, then nodded. "Thank you." With a brief touch to his shoulder, she got Roy to echo her. "I'm going to resize them."

She disappeared in the bedroom. Roy and Havoc wished Fuery a good night – the latter having to run to headquarters, seeing as Falman had already returned home. Havoc stayed. Half standing, half sitting on the armrest of the couch, he watched Riza open an amply stocked, accordion-like sewing box on the floor. Upon her request, Roy changed into Havoc's shirt without complaint – inside out.

Swiftly, almost before Havoc had understood what she was doing and why, Riza had pinned the outline of Roy's torso into place. Carefully pulling it over his head again, she threaded a needle, then began following her pins with a running stitch.

"You're gonna do the whole thing?" Havoc took out his cigarette as he gaped down at her. "By hand?"

"I'm also going to have to cut the excess fabric off, so you won't get this back," she excused to Havoc.

"Can't we wash them…?" Roy prodded the trousers with his toes.

"There won't be enough time for them to dry; please bear it until tomorrow night."

"Fine…" He sank down across from her. In silence, both he and Havoc watched Riza's handiwork in awe. "What are we gonna do with the clothes I outgrew?"

"Nothing, I suppose," Riza sighed. "Maybe I can give them back sometime..." she said, not sounding too hopeful.

"Can I stay home tomorrow?" he asked without thinking.

Havoc could see the small frown of an orphaned boy, asking himself where home was. He must have had one by the age of twelve. Riza had said he had lived at her house at fifteen – and wasn't he from Central, anyhow? How did Riza stand it, not drilling him with questions? She had even gone as far as giving him a free pass not to reveal anything apart from his age.

"No," she said, "we don't know if it's safe."

"Hayate is here to protect me," Roy argued, leaning back on his arms. "And you can leave me a gun."

"I'm not giving you a gun." Riza's gaze flashed up at him. He dodged it. "I know it's tiring, but we have to get up extra early." She glanced at the clock, more than tired herself. Seeing the time only dampened her spirits further.

"But I don't wanna…" Roy dropped onto his back, all limps stretched from him. "I didn't do my homework. It's a stupid one anyway. No one did it, but Mrs Jenkins is still gonna ask – she always picks me!" he complained, mildly thrashing on the old floorboards.

Riza and Havoc exchanged a glance.

"Mrs Jenkins?" Riza momentarily paused her sewing.

"You know you're coming to HQ with us, right? There's no school for you – I bet that teacher of yours is retired by now," Havoc reminded with a laugh. A cautious one – just how much did that kid remember and not remember?

With a huge gasp, Roy shot up to sit. "Really?" He looked from one to the other. "And no home schooling either?"

"Whenever would I have the time?" Riza lifted the shirt in her hands for emphasis.

"Wicked!" Roy cheered.

Havoc laughed this time when Roy did so devilishly. Hayate leapt to his feet at the commotion, chasing Roy who ran off, laughing and whooping, into the bedroom. The mattress squeaked under his suddenly added weight. Roy dashed back out, snatching up Hayate's toy on the way, who caught up, jumping and barking along.

Havoc winced when the neighbour above them angrily stomped his foot, but Roy hardly listened.

"No homework! None! That'll show—" He slid into a halt, Hayate bumping into him. "So then," Roy looked at Riza, "my friends are…?"

"Your true age. I know you once told me that your friend Elijah went to work in a kindergarten. Is he from school?"

"Elijah in kindergarten?" Roy exclaimed, then burst into more laughter. "He can't stand children!" He kept on laughing. Riza smiled softly, relieved with his change of mood coming easily.

She finished adjusting the shirt some half an hour later. Roy stood model for the trousers, then was sent to bed. As soon as Havoc had left, he padded back over to where Riza now sat at the table.

The lights were dim, flickering now and again. She had pinned a few strands of hair back. Her gaze was trained on the needle as she made it glide through the fabric – in and out, in and out, a knot, and all the way down again.

She lifted her eyes to where he stood in the door. It was a miracle that she hadn't noticed Breda reading the paper that morning – she was like a cat, every sense sharp and invariably on guard. He studied those sharp yet tired eyes. The concern she had borne over the past days was still there, though hidden more carefully. It made him wonder whether his future self was able to read her the way she read him – or if perhaps it only became more and more impossible to see through her façade.

"You didn't tuck me in," he said. He had said it quietly enough to deny it later; pretend she misunderstood. Twelve-year-olds didn't need tucking in. Still, he waited.

This time, it was Riza who studied him. As far as she could at least, her eyes small and heavy with the need to sleep.

His expression brightened when she heaved herself up, trousers and everything. He hustled back into bed. Purposefully, he left the blanket in disorder for her to fix. Riza suppressed a sigh when seeing it, but he knew there was a smile in her weary eyes.

She sat down on the side of the bed.

"Your feet are all cold," she noted once having secured the blanket tightly around him. His smile was impregnable. It broadened even further when she snuck her hands under the covers, rubbing his feet in an effort to warm them. "I suppose my socks will fit you better now…" She got up to fetch them, tugging them on. He wiggled his toes. "Do you still recall how to behave around Eastern Command?"

"Don't be seen under any circumstances," he sternly said. "If for some reason I am spotted, I pretend I'm the curly-haired woman's nephew."

"Very good." Riza turned the shade of the lamp on the nightstand her way, continuing to sew.

"Can we call Elijah tomorrow? I wanted to do the project with him."

"I'm sorry," Riza paused the needle, "but you can't be seen by anyone who knows you, even outside of the military. And I'm afraid Elijah won't be doing school projects either, seeing as he's pushing thirty." She offered wry smile.

"Right." Roy tried and failed to ban the disappointment from his tone. "But the project is so cool – we're supposed to build a miniature version of our neighbourhood. Auntie Chris already bought me— uh…" he sealed his lips.

Riza shook her head. "It's alright – I won't tell." She reassured him. And she feigned not to notice how his eyes flashed to where her secret lied on her back – a secret he knew. "I was surprised you asked about school," she changed the subject, "with us returning from the mission earlier."

"I was at school yesterday. Well, not yesterday, but— no, actually yes, but no… I think I get why you find this so complicated," he muttered. The way she kept focusing on her work, at the same time sitting close enough for her leg to lean against his gave him courage. "Yesterday – our mission – it feels further away but at the same time it doesn't. Maybe just 'cause school feels as if it was yesterday too."

"It's certainly odd."

"Not really – I mean you're always a certain number of days old and so are your memories," Roy corrected. "Well, mine."

Riza's shoulders sank a little. "That's what I forgot to say about you this morning." She didn't look up as she spoke, her voice tender and honest. "Brilliant," she smiled to herself, "is what you are."

"It's only logical," Roy deflected. A pink tinge rose to his cheeks. He liked her giving him compliments, even if they were directed at someone he had once been but also wasn't – not yet. But Riza Hawkeye was one of the coolest, toughest, nicest people he knew – he wanted to be cool in front of her even now.

"I'm sorry. I guess I still see the child from before in you." She let out a breath, hands stilling.

Roy gulped. "We're not gonna… stop being close, now that I'm not six anymore, are we?" he asked from behind the blanket.

"Not if you don't want us to." She tied a knot, ready to repeat the entire process with the other trouser leg.

He watched, hesitated. "Do you want us to… not stop?"

"Very much."

"Me too." Roy beamed into the sheets. Bundling himself up before she could see his smile, Roy curled up on his side. When nothing happened, he scooted away a little. Riza waited, but he didn't have to speak up. Of course, she knew.

With a hearty sigh once she had settled next to him – still sewing in the feeble light of the lamp on the nightstand – Roy fell asleep before long. He couldn't wait to surreptitiously swindle his way into the office.