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With his hand curled around Riza’s, Alphonse kept looking over his shoulder as they meandered across the road. He didn’t need to worry about his surroundings with his hand in Riza’s. She was safe and warm and easily led Al about without incident. Though, she did make a fleeting remark about looking both ways before they stepped off the sidewalk. Upon reaching the other side, he didn’t trip over a cobble or accidentally bump into anyone as the street grew more cluttered, but his attention still remained elsewhere. The sight of Roy and Ed becoming grew smaller and smaller as the distance grew between them.
Riza smoothly steered him away to their destination further down the block, leaving Al to glance back at his sibling and their guardian. The duo seemed okay, content to wait not too far away on the opposite side of the street. They had perched themselves on a low wall that overlooked the canal which, given Roy’s panic-stricken face, wasn’t a good thing. Probably due to the fact Ed seemed intent to clamber the wall and swing forward to peer over into the water below. A lightly calloused hand squeezing Al’s fingers stopped him from craning his neck backward to keep watch.
"They’ll be there when we get back.’’
The soft-spoken reassurance was enough to pull Al’s attention away from Ed and Roy. He knew that. Brother would never leave him. He knew that down to his bones, and Roy – Roy promised. They were his kids now, and had the surname and papers to prove it. Still, Al spared one final glance towards the canal before peering up at Riza. She smiled and gently brushed her thumb over his knuckles, continuing to lead the way towards the busy line that spilled out from the quaint ice cream parlor they were heading towards.
"I know. I just…’’ he tapered off, feeling selfish. "Never mind.’’
"Go on,’’ Riza cajoled as they stepped into the queue.
"I wish brother could come to pick his own ice cream with us,’’ was what Al confessed.
What Alphonse really wanted to say was that he wanted all four of them to go pick out ice cream, not just him and Riza. It was moments like these that he wished Ed’s quirks and auditory sensitivities didn’t hinder him so much that it felt like he was missing out. Al had seen the way the closer they got to the busier part of Central, near the stores on the main street, how Edward began to press closer to Roy’s side. It was almost as if Ed had been trying to become one with the man’s left leg, rubbing at his ears and face as his agitation increased in a tell-tale way.
Al didn’t know whether to be impressed or guilty that Roy had noticed the signs of Ed growing overwhelmed first. Typically, it was Al who noticed such things, oftentimes way before Ed even did due to his desire to push himself to be ‘normal’. Oddly enough, he felt a strange mix of emotions that spanned from guilty – he’d been too busy walking between Riza and Roy, holding their hands and asking a thousand questions about the city – to relieved and happy. It felt good to know there were more people than him keeping an eye on his brother.
"And he can do that,’’ Riza said.
Al wrinkled his nose, dubious.
"Maybe not today, of course,’’ the lieutenant explained. "But we can do this again when it’s quieter and Edward’s not had such a busy day.’’
Busy, Al noted, actually translated to meaning overly stimulating.
He’d overheard that little snippet between Roy and the specialist doctor Uncle Falman had found. Back then, during their hospital visit, Al wasn’t eavesdropping. They had a hectic morning of being poked and prodded by doctors for their initial check-up when Roy led them deeper into the hospital, seeking out the tiny office that held a name and a title of Neurodevelopmental Pediatrician. Alphonse didn’t know what type of doctor that was, only that the female in question was kind and told Ed and Al to help themselves to some of the colorful candy in her office.
Edward had stuffed some bright taffy into his mouth and had been too busy poking at the model brain on her desk while Al pocketed his sweets. He had gravitated back towards the door where he had overheard the informal conversation between Roy and the woman. It was there that Al realized that Roy was seeking advice from a doctor that typically dealt in a branch of medicine that was a gray area in the field of medicine due to most aspects being relatively new or yet to be named.
"Sensory breaks,’’ Al murmured to himself, recalling hearing that phrase. The doctor had mentioned that to Roy as a prevention strategy along with distraction, use of ear plugs, and something about ‘proprioceptive activities’. There had been a handful of other things suggested, yet Al hadn’t fully heard due to Ed beckoning his attention. Still… "Brother’s having a break,’’ he mused aloud. "A sensory break.’’
"Exactly.’’ Riza gave him an encouraging smile. "Now, what ice cream flavor do you think he’d like?’’
Alphonse smiled back as they shuffled forward in the queue. "I don’t know. Ed doesn’t like milk, but he says ice cream doesn’t count. We’ve never had so much of it before until Havoc and the other guys showed up.’’ He paused, recalling that spontaneous meeting. "They brought so many, Riza. I never knew there were so many flavors!’’
"They all did go a little over the top, didn’t they?’’ Riza’s voice carried a hint of laughter.
That was an understatement.
Al idly swung their joined hands as they waited, voicing his thoughts aloud. "I still don’t know why they did that,’’ he hummed. "Roy said he wasn’t expecting them.’’
"Allow me to tell you something very important about Havoc, Fuery, Breda, and Falman,’’ Riza started, giving Al’s fingers a light squeeze. "They are kind, generous, and they also have a terrible habit of infecting each other with foolish thoughts that lead to stupidity.’’
Alphonse couldn’t help but giggle at that. That certainly seemed true.
As the line of people continued to shift forward, so did he and Riza. They were now less than five people away from entering the building, and Al could see through the shopfront window. He peered through the glass. Inside, the line inside was shorter and a teenage girl handed out samples. He squinted at the blackboard behind the counter that held a list of flavors.
"I think brother’ll like the cherry and chocolate chip one,’’ Al mused, excitedly scanning the list. Ed had been rather possessive of the carton of blueberry and white chocolate ice cream while it lasted. Then again, his sibling ate anything he could get his hands on. Either way, Al beamed at the array of ice cream flavors, quickly picking out a couple that made his mouth water. "They do cookies and caramel!’’
"That does sound rather tasty.’’
"Are you going to have the same as me?’’
"Maybe,’’ she replied, considering. "Or I might just have something simple, like strawberry.’’
"Strawberry is good,’’ Al mused. "I like strawberry, too. What is Roy having?’’
"Vanilla, or rum and raisin.’’ Riza led them forward in the queue, finally stepping into the pleasantly cool but small building. She eyed the chalkboard behind the counter for a beat. "Then again,’’ she added, "I can see they do a coffee-flavored one. I might surprise him with that. We know how much he loves his caffeine.’’
That was true. Al had already grown used to waking up to the aroma of coffee most mornings. If that particular scent wasn’t in the air, he knew that Roy wasn’t away yet and, if he was, it was best not be too chatty. It wasn’t that Roy was grumpy pre-coffee. Nope. Roy just blinked slowly and seemed rather groggy until the first sip, like his brain was still catching up with his body.
"Are you going to get him sprinkles?’’ Al asked, seeing the colorful items being scattered onto another customer’s cone. "I think Roy would like sprinkles.’’
Riza smiled indulgently. "You think we should?’’
Al nodded. After their failed attempt to treat Roy to a surprise meal and the discovery of how the man had triggers and sort-of-meltdowns like Ed, Al was desperate to make it up to the man. He had never meant to induce such a terrible reaction in the man. And even now, he was still terrified that it would happen again. Uncle Hughes said that people didn’t always know what triggered their meltdowns.
What if Al did something again? And what if this time Ed got more than a bump on the head and some glass in his hand and feet?
Plagued with concerns, Al looked at Riza, who smiled at him encouragingly. She didn’t seem to think that rainbow sprinkles would cause a reaction. And that was good enough for him. Rainbow colored sprinkles could keep anyone happy as far as Al was concerned. Though, he and Ed would have to figure out something else to make it up to Roy. And now they had even more to make up for. At first, it was just a thank you for keeping them safe. Now they also had to apologize for causing him to hurt himself. The scratches on the back of Roy’s hands were still scabbed and healing.
He was about to say something else when the teenage girl who he’d seen handing out samples sidled up towards them, a tray in hand. There was an array of little cups filled with samples and she happily offered a selection before bustling onto the customers lingering behind them. Riza hadn’t wanted to try any of the samples, but she had requested a small cup of strawberry that she nudged into Alphonse’s hand once he finished one of his own two samples.
The tiny tasters didn’t long, and he happily dumped the empty paper cups and tiny spoons in the nearby waste basket. He ran back to Riza’s side, his hand reaching back for hers. She accepted it without even looking down at him, her attention briefly skipping to the little boy and mother ahead of them in the line when the boy proceeded to have a tantrum.
A real tantrum about wanting a third scoop. It was high-pitched and noisy. Al winced; partly at the volume and, partly, at the realization that people were staring at the poor mother, murmuring lowly about her son’s angry wailing. People used to look and whisper about Mom that way when Ed had his moments…
But Edward’s meltdowns were not of the spoiled brat variety, not like that boy.
Riza seemed to be the only adult who swiftly diverted her attention elsewhere, paying the antics no mind. Mom would’ve liked Riza. If not for the sharpshooter’s common courtesy towards others, then for her thoughtfulness and kindness.
"Have you decided what flavor you want?’’ Riza asked Al, needing to raise her voice a tiny bit over the ruckus going on.
"Uh…’’ Al floundered. There were just too many choices. He was still getting used to it. Back in Resembool, the choice of food was limited. It was eat or don’t eat and anything sweet was a luxury they couldn’t afford.
"You can have two different scoops if you want,’’ Riza explained. "You boys deserve a treat – ’’ she cut herself off upon glancing down at him, her expression softening entirely. "Ah.’’
Al blinked owlishly. "What is it?’’
"Nothing. You’ve only got a little…’’ Riza trailed off, flicking one hand towards his face.
With an air of absent-minded instinct, Riza slipped her hand out of his. Al wrinkled his nose in confusion as she gently cupped his cheek with one hand, angling his face upward as she ducked down. It was far too quickly to process; one moment Riza was licking the thumb of the hand that wasn’t holding his face and, the next, that damp digit was rubbing against the corner of Al’s mouth that had been tacky with ice cream.
"… there we go,’’ she smiled, pulling back. "That’s better.’’
Alphonse’s heart felt as if it had suddenly been squeezed. It hurt. He grunted, throat tight, and numbly nodded. Riza had cleaned his face. It wasn’t anything bad. Sure, many would squirm and crinkle their faces at the universal and familial action of wiping something off your face with a lick of saliva, but that wasn’t it. No, it was… well….
Mom used to do that. A lot. Al didn’t think there had been a day gone by when Mom didn’t gather his or Ed’s face into her soft hands and wipe the smear of food or smudge of dirt off their faces. It had been a thrice or more daily occurrence, until she died and –
Al stamped the rest of that thought away.
In a daze, he felt Riza’s hand settle on his shoulder as she ushered him forth. They were finally at the counter and orders were being taken. How Al managed to say that he would like a strawberry cone without his voice breaking was astonishing. Yet, as the duo behind the counter went about scooping ice cream, plopping them in cones and slipping said cones into a cardboard holder of sorts so that they weren’t juggling four cones. It was during that moment in which Al could feel Riza eyeing him; she had clearly picked up on his sudden dip in mood.
Al gave a sniff, failing to bury the wave of emotion that hit him from the reminder of his mother. It hurt. It hurt so much. He missed her and he sniffed once more, the noise sounding wet as his eyes grew a little damp. Al pressed himself to Riza’s side, hoping to hide as he scrubbed at his face.
Hiding was of no use when Riza had sharp eyes and an attentive streak a mile wide. He managed to swipe the sudden burst of tears away when he felt her shift beside him. Vision cleared, Al could see that she had come down to his level, a tiny divot between her brows deepening with concern.
‘‘Alphonse?’’
Embarrassed, Al tried to fix things. ‘‘I – I’m sorry. I just – um.’’
Riza, like Roy, was patient. Probably even more patient. She merely tilted her head, silently encouraging, and waited. Al looked around, hoping that nobody was looking at his mildly teary episode or annoying them for holding up the queue. Luckily, the workers behind the counter were still prepping their order and nobody seemed to be eyeing him with disdain.
‘‘When you…’’ Al made a twitchy motion with his thumb towards his face ‘‘…did that. It reminded me of M-Mom, that’s all.’’
Oh. Riza’s lips thinned out, her expression shifting into something gravely serious. ‘‘I’m sorry.’’
Al blew out a shuddery breath and shook his head. She didn’t need to apologize. It wasn’t her fault that he found himself hit with sudden bittersweet emotion. His stomach flipped with uncertainty, especially with how Riza’s relaxed posture seemed to straighten up in a way that made Al think she felt awkward.
She tentatively rubbed at his shoulder. ‘‘I won’t do that again. I didn’t mean to upset you…’’
Wait. What? Al nearly yelped as he blinked back tears. ‘‘No, that’s not – !’’ he made a small panicky noise. ‘‘I don’t mind it! I miss her, that’s all. Don’t stop. It just… It reminded me of her. It’s kinda nice to remember her. I don’t want to forget her.’’
That seemed to be the right thing. Understanding bloomed brightly in Riza’s eyes and her entire posture relaxed. Al caught the way her arms opened a fraction in silent invitation, and he happily burrowed in them for a hug.
‘‘You can talk to Roy and I about her, you know,’’ was her comforting whisper into his ear. ‘‘I’d love to know more about your mom.’’
Alphonse had known that before now. It had been unspoken and obvious. However, hearing it verbally confirmed hit different and he smiled. He was still a touch weepy, the reminder over such a simple action raw and at the forefront of his mind, but having Riza suddenly stand, scooping him up with her, derailed any further upset. He squeaked, surprised, and wound his arms and legs around her as she adjusted her hold. She was a little tense – maybe awkward, like Roy used to be – until Al gave her a light, squeeze-worthy hug.
That earned him a smile.
‘‘Mom liked apples, they were her favorite,’’ Al blurted out. He didn’t know why he said it, only that he wanted to. However, he also wanted to know… ‘‘What’s yours?’’
‘‘Peaches,’’ Riza answered.
Peaches. Al smiled at the answer. Riza wasn’t like Mom and, maybe, that was a good thing. Riza was Riza, yet Al couldn’t help but compare as she held him. Riza’s arms were firmer, her hands more calloused from the gun range, and the hip he was propped up on was wider. It felt like she didn’t immediately know the best way to hold someone smaller than her due to a lack of practice, but Riza was a quick learner among many things. She shifted him up an inch or so, her hold a touch more natural, and Al found himself with a far better vantage point of the countertop and the four ice-cream cones they had ordered.
‘‘Toppings?’’ the old man behind the counter cheerily asked.
Riza glanced at Al for an answer. ‘‘Sprinkles, right?’’
Al beamed and jabbed a finger towards the tub of rainbow sprinkles. ‘‘Those, please.’’
It felt much too soon to be set back down on his feet, but that was okay. Al didn’t mourn the loss of contact when Riza gave him his ice cream cone, proffering her unoccupied hand to him. He quickly curled his fingers around hers, watching her pay and collect the three other cones that were stored in some sort of disposable holder. It seemed like Riza was used to juggling things and never batted an eye, just as stalwart as she was sweet.
Alphonse wished she could be around all the time. Riza made everything – well, not better, but smoother. Roy certainly seemed to get less flustered over the silly things like cooking when she was around, even if Riza wasn’t much better with her culinary skills. When Riza was around, Al felt like things felt settled and complete.
"Uncle Breda’ll keep an eye on Al, right?’’
"Yes, Edward.’’ Riza patiently reassured for the umpteenth time. "They will be just fine. Remember, they are meeting up with Havoc to collect supplies so that Al can make his own windowsill garden.’’
Yeah. Alphonse had been talking about growing herbs and all sorts for a while now. Still, Ed didn’t find that news too comforting. Uncle Havoc was fun, always goofing around, and had the silly habit of calling him Bean while branded Al as Sprout. However, he didn’t think the tall blond was as attentive as Roy could be when they all went out. Plus, Havoc seemed more distracted lately, always gnawing on a toothpick or popping some gum into his mouth in a bid to battle the urge to light up a cigarette, and Ed… Ed worried when he wasn’t around to keep his brother safe.
Mom would always drum into him to keep an eye on Al. It was a big brother’s job and all that. Edward trusted Roy and the people the man had collected into his created family, but the responsibility for his sibling was still very much ingrained. All it would take was an overly nice person requesting help or a cute cat and Alphonse could be snatched away or hit by a –
"Hand, please,’’ Riza said, the tiniest bit sharp.
The boy swiftly felt a hand grab the back of his shirt collar, tugging him back from the roadside. Ed blinked, slightly startled, and stared at the road he’d been ready to walk across. Compared to the inner city, this part of Central wasn’t too hectic, but the roads still remained busy. He flushed at the realization that he’d been too deep in thought that he’d forgotten about road safety. The latter was still a very new concept; he’d spend the entirety of his eight years of existence in a place where the only things to worry about on roads were mean horses and rickety wagons hauling wool or hay.
Still, Ed had no qualms in slipping his hand into Riza’s. It was done automatically and without thought. His focus was mainly on defending his moment of nearly stepping out into the road.
"It was okay to cross,’’ Edward pointed out. "It’s real quiet ‘round here. Look, no cars!’’
And, of course, it was at that exact moment a vehicle roared its way down the street.
Edward winced, partly at the volume but – mostly – at the poor timing, and clung tightly to Riza’s fingers. He peeked up at her through his bangs and found himself on the receiving end of a very knowing look. It was a softer version of an ‘I told you so’ look that Granny Pinako used to frequently have on her wrinkly face. After a beat, Riza shook her head fondly and proceeded to make a point about running through the same rules Roy kept drilling into his and Al’s brains…
‘‘Look both ways,’’ Roy had once stressed. ‘‘Listen out for approaching cars and, for the love of all things, use crossing points.’’
…Whatever. Ed knew those rules. It was common sense. He wasn’t stupid.
He let Riza softly repeat her own version of the rules as they did just that: look both ways, listen for cars, and use a pedestrian crossing. Edward happily skipped alongside her until they reached the other side and neared their destination. While Roy was stuck spending a Saturday morning doing extra paperwork and Al was gathering supplies to make his little herb garden, Ed had decided to accept Riza’s request for helping her with the very important task of visiting a local farmer’s market.
The makeshift market itself was located in a grassy public square surrounded by wrought-iron railings, and he was excited. This spot was an unexplored and new area. It was on the edge of where the city met the suburbs and, while it wasn’t quieter, at this morning hour everything seemed less hectic in comparison to the hustle and bustle of the inner city. Excitement bubbled inside of him as he craned his neck, trying to take everything in without feeling too overwhelmed as Riza led the way forward.
There was an array of stalls, colorful bunting and chalkboard signs. It was busy, but not too busy that Ed was feeling the urge to plug his ears. He could smell fresh bread and see a hodgepodge of edible or interesting things, from homemade jams to soaps. It reminded him a little of Resembool’s market before the war encroached upon their village.
"Al should’ve come,’’ was Ed’s immediately spoken thought. It came out whinier than he intended. But… "He would’ve loved this.’’
Riza rubbed circles onto the top of his hand. "They are open every other weekend, Ed. We’ll come again and bring Al, okay?’’
"And Roy, too.’’
"And Roy, too,’’ Riza confirmed, her voice laced with amusement. "But only if he finishes his paperwork on time.’’
Ed would make sure Roy did even if he had to stand by his desk all day. He gave a small nod of agreement and tipped his head back to look up at her. Riza smiled, shifted the empty canvas bag a little higher up her shoulder, and brushed his hair back from his eyes. Feeling relaxed, he returned his attention to scanning their surroundings with a lopsided grin. Naturally, he zeroed in on a stall opposite that was selling lotions and soaps and over beauty-ish things.
"He’d like that one.’’ Ed inclined his head towards the stall in question.
Riza laughed softly. "Yes, Roy would. Shall we go see?’’
Not needing to be asked twice, Ed marched forward and pulled Riza along, absently swinging their joined hands. They poked about the merchandise that was crafted by a lady that didn’t look too old but had the longest silvery hair Edward had ever seen. The lady was kind and talkative, proffering bars of soap and little jars of lotion for Edward and Riza to sniff-test. They left that stall with a bar of soap shaped like a cat for Al and a fancy-smelling facial cream for Roy.
The next hour or so proceeded in a similar fashion: investigating stalls and products and buying one or two things that disappeared into Riza’s woven shopping bag. The best part, however, was when they stopped by stalls that gave out samples to try or, in the case of the man selling berries, happily let Edward take a fistful of juicy blueberries. At one point, Riza gave Ed missions to find particular items, and he happily complied, rushing a short distance ahead of her to locate the pickled vegetables or use a fistful of money she’d handed him to purchase jams.
It was fun. It was nice. It was… familiar.
He used to do this with Mom back when Al was really, really little. They’d get up early in the morning, very similar to now, to avoid the bustle of noise that came with too many people. Mom would hold his hand and occasionally let him run off a few precious feet to collect the eggs or bread. They’d always invite Hohenheim to come with them. Mom opening the basement door and calling out in a cheery voice that they were off to the Farmer’s Market. The bastard always called back that he had to work. Roy had to work today too, but it felt different than Hohenheim’s work.
Roy clearly didn’t want to be in the office on a Saturday and tried to beg and barter with Riza so that he could spend his Saturday with him. But, in the end, neither could deny the paperwork needed to be completed today. Roy reluctantly hugged him and Al tightly, promised he’d be back by lunch, and sullenly left through the door. Unlike his aloof father, Roy wanted to spend time with them. Just like Mom did.
The sudden thought and familiarity hit him hard and fast when he was mid-run back to Riza’s side. It walloped him harshly in the chest and punched the air out of his lungs, making him stumble.
Edward rubbed at his chest with the item in his lone hand, attempting to drive away the pressure that was suddenly present. When that didn’t work, he tried to will the thought away as he carefully put the jar of honey he’d obtained into the canvas bag Riza held open for him. It was filled to the brim with a mixture of fresh foods and some sweet treats, and Riza soon hauled the tote back up over her shoulder with ease, never once breaking in her conversation with a chatty saleswoman.
" – Longjing tea is known as Dragon Well. You can’t go wrong with it, ma’am. Lots of health benefits. My grandparents brought the seeds with them when they moved from Xing to Amestris.’’
"Interesting. What’s that one?’’
"Hm? Oh! Rougui tea. Difficult to prepare but lovely aroma. Distinctively sweet and – ’’
It was an entrenched habit to reach for Riza’s hand, his sticky fingers being accepted into a warm, larger hand without missing a beat. He kept his thoughts on a less depressive track and welcomed the distraction of eyeing the stall’s contents. Ed slumped against her side and chewed on his bottom lip, tuning out of the conversation occurring above his head. He tried to ignore his sudden mood shift and, in a bid to seek distraction during the lull in activity, half-heartedly eyed the squiggly writing on many labeled canisters of tea leaves, feeling an odd mix of emotions.
Slowly but surely, Edward’s feeling of contentment fizzled out and he noticed.
He was holding Riza’s hand.
A distant part of him noted that this wasn’t new. He had done this a lot of times without being wholly aware, oftentimes holding her hand or reaching for her as much as he did with Roy. This shouldn’t have been a shocking realization to him. Nope. Holding Riza’s hand when crossing the road or letting go of the park’s climbing equipment to drop into her open arms was old news. It had become so natural that he hadn’t given it much thought, feeling nothing more than contentment, until now.
Now… Now, Edward’s mouth felt too dry and his throat had a lump lodged in it. He stared at their joined hands – her neatly trimmed nails, the callouses and scarred nicks gained from gun use, and the slender fingers that were deceptively strong – and blinked away a warm blur. Riza’s hand was nothing like Roy’s vast palm and thicker fingers. Her hand was smaller and a little softer, but it still engulfed Ed’s lone hand. Mom’s hand had been silky soft, her nails a little longer, but the dimensions were similar enough that it hit a bit too close to home.
It's a comforting yet firm and distinctly female grip that made him feel secure.
Roy’s made him feel the same way, but this was different. Until Roy, Ed hadn’t really held most males’ hands. Hohenheim had always been in his study, then he left them. Ed didn’t have any good memories of the man, least of all holding his hands. There was no real basis of comparison for Edward to link to when he held Roy’s hands or his newly gained uncles’ hands. As for his Aunties - well, Ed hasn’t even held Aunt Gracia’s hand yet. The same applied to Aunt Nessa and Roy’s Māma Chris: Ed seemed to opt with grabbing a fistful of their cardigans or dresses.
Riza’s hand was, to date, probably the only hand of a woman that he had held since…since…
Since that day at the station.
Back then, Edward had been holding Mom’s hand as they neared the station. He could remember her glancing over her shoulder, telling Alphonse not to dawdle, as they strode a few feet ahead. Everything had been fine and normal until the approaching chugging noise and sharp whistle signaled the arrival of the train. Then, everything was ripped to pieces in an explosion – inclusive of his right arm which had been holding his mother’s hand.
Mom’s hand was the last thing he’d felt with his right hand.
In the grand scheme of things, it wasn’t all that long ago yet, between settling in with Roy and facing several hiccups, it could sometimes feel that way. Ed was an expert at burying things down, down, down. He was especially good if there happened to be plenty of other things for him to focus on. But now, during this moment of tranquility and deep thoughts, everything came bubbling to the surface; Ed felt like he could feel the phantom sensation of Mom’s soft hand the same way he experienced the aches of an arm that no longer existed. The tiny similarity of Riza’s hand currently within his lone hand felt like too much to deal with as he sucked in a small, stuttered breath.
" – thank you very much.’’ Riza’s voice filtered in through the fog filling Ed’s head as she bid goodbye to the tea-selling lady. Ed found himself gently guided away from the stall, feet scuffing against the ground as he tried to blink the wet blur from his eyes. It was impossible and he squeezed his hand tightly around Riza’s finger and thumb as he tried to fight the urge to cry. "Come on, Ed. Let’s get – ’’ Riza abruptly halted in her steps and her cheery words. "Oh.’’
No. No. No. Ed gritted his teeth and pressed his lips together. It was futile, his lips were wobbling as much as his jaw. Tears had welled up in his eyes, a couple slipping free, but he could tell Riza was looking down at him. He turned his head away from the smudge that was her face and tried to focus on breathing and not crying. It was easier said than done, a strained noise was building up and it wasn’t going away. The embarrassing noise of upset refused to be gulped down, leaving him feeling like he was struggling to swallow down his rapidly beating heart.
"Edward?’’ Riza’s voice was gentle and cautious. "Hey, what’s all this?’’ her free hand gingerly cupped his damp cheek. "Is it – it loud for you? I’ve got your earplugs. Do we need to take a little break?’’
Unable to speak, Ed shook his head. No. He didn’t need any of that. Sound-wise, everything was great. For once, it was an overwhelming wave of grief that was drowning him, not his stupid auditory sensitives. All he could do was curse all a storm of ruining the fun morning and refuse to let go of the hand within his.
"Okay, that’s fine. Can you tell me what’s wrong?’’ Riza was shifting about. Ed could feel that she was on edge and alert. "You were fine. You went and got the honey…’’ her voice rapidly shifted from uneasy confusion to something that promised of her unholstering her weapon. "Has somebody upset you?’’
Nobody had upset him except himself. He tried to answer her but all that came out was a choked hiccup. What little control he had was rapidly slipping, the pressure building up and nearly spilling over the surface. It was safer to not speak in case her ended up bawling like a damn baby and -
A small, warbling noise left him when Riza tried to remove her hand from his grip. She made a low, soothing sound and let him cling to her hand. Her unoccupied hand, however, was suddenly skating over him, checking him over as she asked, "Are you hurt?’’
Yes. Ed was hurting. Maybe not skinned knees or phantom limb pain like she expected, but he was hurting on the inside. A poorly stifled sob escaped him and it was closely followed by another louder one. Tears flowed freely and his sniffling made his nose betray him as well. Then, much to his complete shame and embarrassment, any attempts of keeping his upset quiet and contained failed. Edward’s head naturally lolled back and an awfully loud noise burst out of his lungs without permission.
Riza considered herself to be a woman that wasn’t thrown off balance easily.
With her somewhat serious demeanor and adaptable nature, many viewed her as the model of a perfect soldier: disciplined and extremely rational, forever keeping her colleagues on track with her organizational habits. She was content with many perceiving her in such a way, especially in the workplace. Her softer side, acerbic wit, and blatant affection oftentimes went unseen by those who didn’t know her. Still, it was a rarity for her – be it within the workplace or off the clock – to be caught off guard as it was to find herself discomposed over something minor as a child spilling a few spilled tears.
She’d slipped the canister of new tea into the overloaded canvas bag that was slung over her shoulder and barely got four steps away from the stall when she noticed Ed’s shift in mood. Typically, the boy would be chatting up a storm upon his return from a little errand. Curiosity had her stopping and trying to get a glimpse of the boy’s face, yet the moment the sharpshooter had seen the pinched expression instinct told her to investigate further. At first, the natural conclusion had been that Edward’s auditory sensitivities were rearing their ugly head from the increased amount of people filling the square.
Apparently, that wasn’t the case. Edward was quick to shake his head, his lower lip wobbling as he tried – and failed – to regulate his breathing. All it seemed to do was make the child sniffle as the slow roll of tears was joined by an equally drippy nose. It was obvious that he was fighting the urge to properly cry, his ears glowing as red as his face, and it made a tiny slither of panic enter her system.
The next logical conclusion was that someone had upset him; it was a concept that made zero sense. Riza had kept a visual on him the entire time as she conversed with the woman selling tea leaves. Save being accidentally overlooked by the couple busily selling jars of honey due to his tiny height, nothing seemed to have occurred. Edward hadn’t been ignored for long and the boy had been darting back to her side with change jingling in his pocket and honey hugged to his chest. However, there had been a brief moment in which Riza had averted her gaze and if there was one thing she had learned from Roy, it was that a lot could happen in the split second you took your eyes off one of the boys (especially Edward).
But Ed was unscathed. He was, physically, okay. Nobody had upset him. The amount of people milling about and the overall noise wasn’t irritating or overwhelming him. It was why Riza had chosen this time to attend the farmer’s market. It had been her suggestion to Roy to start gradually introducing Edward to environments that weren’t as clamorous as the rest of Central City…
What had been smart thinking and good intentions seemed to have backfired.
Spectacularly so.
Because Edward had her hand in a death grip and was crying.
Riza had seen those golden eyes grow misty, but she had never witnessed him cry like this. The sight of Edward’s contained sniffles steadily growing more intense until he was outrightly sobbing felt like a punch to the gut. Ed’s cries carried a raw, crackly edge that made Riza nauseous with a swirl of emotions she didn’t dare analyze. All she wanted – needed – to do was fix whatever had caused this, and she didn’t know how.
It was a thin, brittle bleating that spoke only of pain, and Riza was thrown entirely off-kilter.
Suddenly, the adaptable and rational woman felt her own pulse spike. The elements that made her a perfect soldier crumbled as Riza was in the unknown and terrifying territory. This wasn’t like Ed. Out of the two brothers, it had been a general consensus amongst them all that Edward was, in Fuery’s words, "a tough little cookie’’. Yet, Riza and the others weren’t foolish enough to take the stubborn scowl and bravado at face value. Edward was at the tender age of eight years old and was more emotionally constipated than Roy.
Whatever had caused this sudden burst of devastated crying remained unknown to her. The barrage of calmly spoken questions remained unanswered. The child could barely draw breath beyond a few hiccups as the siren-like noise escaped his open jaw. It was no small wonder why the sound garnered the attention of other men and women in the vicinity.
Strangely enough, the latter got to her. It was unusual. Totally out of character. Yet the feeling of eyes upon her and whispers being overheard regarding "that poor little boy’’ and "the mother looks clueless – then again, “she must’ve had him young,’’ aimed towards her and Ed made her stomach churn. Embarrassment wasn’t an emotion Riza felt often, but she certainly felt it now, and it was coupled with a crippling sense of inadequacy.
"Edward?’’ her attempt to gain his attention fell on deaf ears.
Unsure how to proceed and wishing she had some of that ‘maternal instinct’ many women boasted of to guide her, Riza decided to follow common sense. She was starting to think that, maybe, Edward was having a meltdown. Roy had spoken of it being akin to a teary demon-like possession or a fit (and had a nice little scar as a memento). She could only assume this was the build-up for the former and, hoping she wasn’t going to get bitten in the process, gently pried her hand out of Ed’s grip and scooped him up.
He didn’t put up a fight. If anything, he practically collapsed into her arms. Two little legs cinched around her waist and a lone arm hooked around her neck, small fingers unintentionally snagging into her hair while he face-planted into her collarbone. Riza didn’t know if Edward’s crying had lowered in volume or it was simply muffled, but she didn’t really care. Heart hammering, she was too busy glaring daggers at anyone who looked at her as she marched out of the square.
Riza told herself she was removing them from the situation that might’ve triggered this unusual bout of sobbing. Should anyone ask, she certainly wasn’t fleeing from the judgmental stares she could feel burning into the back of her head. She hurried in stepping out onto the street and seeking out one item in particular. The telephone booth on the corner of the road was a safe haven, leaving her quickly to bustle inside. Between nonsensical murmurings of comfort and feeding the machine with change to make a call, Riza ignored the way the heavy bag cut into her shoulder.
She momentarily juggled with the telephone receiver while simultaneously propping Ed onto one hip. Jabbing in a familiar number and reciting a code went without much thought. In what felt like an excruciatingly long time of listening to a child’s cries in one ear and the telephone ringing out in the other, there was a click. A click and a familiar smooth baritone that answered the phone sounded positively fed-up like anyone else would’ve been if required to work on a weekend.
"Hello. Lieutenant Colonel Mustang speaking – ?’’
"Sir,’’ Riza sharply interjected, easily falling into a formal habit. "I require your assistance. Immediately.’’
Disbelief made Roy sound a touch breathless. "I – Ri…Lieutenant?’’ there was a fleeting pause as he gathered himself. "Why can I hear crying? Is that…? Lieutenant, status report.’’
Of course, Riza thought with shame. Of course, Roy would think injury had occurred. Edward’s cries seemed to be dying down but they continued to sound tormented. She had a terrible feeling that she should not be taking either boy out alone after this. Roy loved her, that she had no doubt, but he had shown a level of overprotectiveness towards the boys she didn’t think he was capable of.
"Physically unharmed,’’ Riza quickly answered, struggling to explain. She didn’t think saying "I think I’ve broken Edward," would’ve helped. Instead, she rattled off her location. "I’m at East Hills farmer’s market. I’ll remain by the telephone booth. Could you – ?’’
"I’ll be there in fifteen,’’ Roy promised. "Stay put.’’
It was on the tip of Riza’s tongue to request him to hurry when Roy hung up, leaving her with the disconnection tone in one ear while Edward was sobbing in the other. She felt unusually adrift and as she placed the receiver back in the cradle and absently began rubbing the boy’s heaving back. Ed was quieter but still just as raw and hair-raisingly intense. Unable to do much more than offer physical comfort, she let herself have a small moment of reflection.
If Riza felt this out of her element – awkward and strangely petrified – then she owed Roy an apology. Not only had she done something to set Edward off into a fit of tears, the words she had used when he experienced Ed’ meltdown came back to haunt her. Back then, during their hushed conversation in his office, she had brushed off his anxiety and reminded him that he hadn’t needed her due to solving it.
But now, with the side of her neck damp with tears and a tiny body trembling in her arms, Riza felt like she understood the need to not be alone when dealing with children.
Humans needed to hurry up with evolving and start sprouting two extra arms.
At least, that was Roy’s opinion on the matter. He considered this to be one of the strangest and greatest epiphanies he had to date, but it made sense from a parental perspective. Anyone who had children or experienced the little creatures for an extended period of time would probably agree with him. The moment you had a kid was also followed by the creeping realization that you didn’t have enough hands to simultaneously do an array of things: be it from yanking your child out of harm’s way to simply trying to make yourself a coffee with one hand while failing to flip pancakes with the other.
It hardly helped that, sometimes, Roy didn’t seem to have any hands to spare.
Those incidents seemed to mostly occur when out and about in the city with the boys, yet it also applied when home. He had known from the get-go that Alphonse was an affectionate and tactile child, always offering hugs and reaching for his hands. Out of the two brothers, Roy had assumed Al was the cuddlier one out of his two boys, but no.
Alphonse was an all-round ray of sunshine, that was true. The child was affectionate and, honestly, had enough communication skills that made Roy thankful. If Al wanted a hug and to talk about his nightmare, he would do so, albeit timidly with some concerning people pleaser tendencies. Edward was the opposite. Ed struggled to ask for things unless it was on behalf of his brother and had a terrible habit of putting his needs second to Al’s. Yet, once Ed’s protective barriers had lowered, it became apparent to Roy that where Ed struggled with his blunt words, he spoke better with actions.
Retrospectively, the signs that Edward surpassed Alphonse’s cuddly nature had been right under Roy’s nose the entire time. He hadn’t thought anything of it at how often he’d seen Ed snatch a hold of Al’s hand or tackle the boy into an unsuspecting hug. When Roy began the almost ritualistic nightly routine of checking on his boys before he turned in for the night, Edward was always snuggled into Al’s side as the younger boy star-fished across the bed.
Apparently, Edward was selective and needed time to warm-up before he bestowed the high honor of becoming a limpet.
After that, Roy learned he couldn’t pry the kid off with a crowbar. Not that he wanted to do such a thing. There was no higher honor nor greater privilege to find himself clung to by both boys, but it was nice to see that the same level of tactile affection Edward reserved for Roy and Al had expanded to Riza…
Roy didn’t think she was quite aware how attached the boys were to her. He’d seen the way her eyes brightened each time Al gave her an exuberant hug upon her arrival or how Ed pulled her around the park, telling her to see how high he could go on the swings. Riza seemed to downplay her role, rightfully cautious to not unintentionally step into the empty shoes of Trisha Elric in fear of upsetting the two children that were still grieving in their own ways. Alphonse cried less but he still had morose moments while Edward got quiet and cranky over seemingly nothing for short spurts, yet he hadn’t cried.
It was hard to balance two kids when they both had very separate needs and different personalities. Roy could only be thankful that he had a supportive group of found family to help, especially when he had work to catch up on. Breda and Havoc had been keen to take both boys this Saturday morning, yet Riza had suggested that – maybe – this could be a good opportunity to try what little semblance of professional guidance they’d been given in helping Ed adjust to the city.
There was just so little help when it came to dealing with Edward's auditory issue due to the medical science not being there. It was a case of trial and error and taking advice from doctors who had seen certain quirks or habits in patients that had suffered from similar things. Taking Ed to new places during quieter periods of the day was merely another trial….
This might’ve resulted in an error.
Roy’s heart lurched at the prospect of Riza facing Edward in all his limb-thrashing, incomprehensible demonic-like possession glory. He’d only encountered a meltdown of that caliber once – the fleeting blips he’d faced since didn’t count – to date and didn’t want to face it again anytime soon. Even knowing what he was going to expect didn’t make him anymore prepared, and he hated the idea of anyone else dealing with Ed in such a state.
It was why Roy wasted no time in responding to Riza’s call.
He arrived at the location in twenty-two minutes. He would’ve got there sooner if Falman didn’t drive with the same cautious nature as the elderly with poor eyesight. The Warrant Officer kept reminding him that Riza and Edward weren’t bleeding out, that they needed to obey most traffic laws to arrive there in one piece. Falman gave him an apologetic side eye as he firmly stated how it was better to arrive alive than dead. It was hard to argue with that logic, but talk of possible car accidents left a bitter taste in Roy’s mouth. Topics like that rubbed him the wrong way…
In the end, that was not something to dwell on. Not now. Not when Roy’s gaze fell on the sight of two familiar figures on a worn-looking bench that was by a telephone booth. Edward was huddled on her lap, his legs thrown over her hips and face buried into her shoulder. Even from afar Roy could see his entire body trembling from where the small boy had nearly disappeared into Riza’s arms. In regards to Riza, her hand was rubbing circles into Ed’s heaving back whilst her mouth moved. It wasn’t a huge leap that she was trying to offer some semblance of comfort, clearly out of her element.
The sharpshooter zeroed on him within an instant, undoubtedly having been on the lookout for him. Outwardly, many would see her stoic face and assume all was well, but Roy could see the tightness around her sharp eyes and the barely-there downturn on her lips. To his keen eyes, everything about Riza Hawkeye screamed uncomfortable and anxious.
And that was more than enough for Roy to throw himself out of the vehicle before Falman rolled the car to a complete stop.
Roy ignored the short yelp his gray-haired subordinate produced and slammed the door shut behind him. In ten long strides, he was at the bench and Riza had jolted out of her seat. Words weren’t immediately exchanged when it was easy to read each other, and the way Riza shifted her hold on Edward and gave Roy a pleading, apologetic look was enough. The Flame Alchemist didn’t think twice about opening his arms to accept Edward, ready to hug the kid within an inch of his life and ask what the hell had happened.
Any hopes of the former happening was derailed when Ed gave an upset whimper and refused to be budged.
Roy saw the way that skinny little arm curled even tighter around Riza’s neck. He knew that move personally. It was the same style of death grip Edward used on him during the few instances he’d shared a bed with his boys. Typically, it was in the mornings when Roy had to peel himself away from little bodies to ready himself for work, not outright rejection.
He didn’t take it personally. Besides, it was clear he wasn’t the only one expecting Edward to latch onto him the second he arrived. Riza went rather wide-eyed at the new development and, if Roy wasn’t so sick with nerves from hearing that heartbreaking cry down the phone line coupled with Riza’s hint of panic, he might’ve smirked at her. Instead, he settled with shuffling half a step to the side until he could brush a gloved hand over the top of Edward’s mussed-up golden hair, trying to cajole his kid into showing his face.
"It’s only me, Ed,’’ Roy said softly. "What’s wrong?’’
No real answer came. The boy did mutter something into Riza’s neck, though it was unintelligible. Roy frowned and shared a glance at Riza. Those russet eyes had carried guilt similar to his own since Ishval, but this was a different type of shame he hadn’t seen before in her eyes. Roy had seen that uneasy, underconfident look in the mirror from time to time when doubting his own attempts at parenting. He tilted his head, trying to seek answers. They were renowned for having what Havoc teasingly called telepathic conversations but, for the first time in years, Roy was faced with radio silence.
"Riza?’’ Roy asked, trying not to sound too snappish. He had been expecting the worst upon his arrival despite her reassurances that it was nothing physical. Aware of little ears possibly listening, he subtly tugged at his ear in a silent question.
Riza looked genuinely conflicted. "I don’t know.’’
Luckily, Ed chose that moment to peel his face away from Riza’s neck. The kid slowly peeked out, a few strands of Riza’s loose hair clinging to his blotchy, miserable little face. Those bloodshot golden eyes looked a bit too mentally present for a meltdown to have occurred but he looked pretty wrung out. This was something else but it was no less emotionally draining.
"Xiǎo húlí…’’ Roy murmured, feeling something inside his chest shatter.
Edward seemed astonished to see him, his small voice a crackly whisper. "Roy?’’
"That’s me.’’
"Uh. What a-are you doin’ here?’’
"I called him when you…’’ Riza trailed off as Edward cringed.
"O-Oh. Yeah.’’ Ed stared at him as if he was a ghost. "But… you had work to do.’’
"When’s work going to stop me from checking in on one of my boys?’’ Roy tried to inject some lightness into his tone as he fished out a handkerchief from his pocket. He seemed to have four or more of the soft cotton squares on his person constantly since having two kids. It was natural to reach out and dab at Ed’s damp eyelashes and tear-streaked face, taking a moment to playfully tweak – and wipe – the congested nose. "I was nearly finished anyway,’’ he lied. "And we were worried.’’
We. Edward picked up on that. We were worried. It was small slip but a truthful one. Roy could see the cogs turn behind those tired eyes, once again soaking up the fact Roy wasn’t the only one who fretted and adored him. The boy gave a quick glance at Riza before squirming self-consciously in her arms, looking torn between remaining where he was and bullying his way down to the ground. Ed’s grew redder and redder by the second as he avoided both their gazes.
"M'sorry, Riza,’’ he mumbled. "I – dunno why I…I…’’
Cried, Roy silently filled in the blank. It was clear the kid had done some serious crying. The evidence of that remained on Riza’s blouse.
"You have nothing to be sorry for,’’ Riza reassured.
Roy nodded in agreement and tentatively ventured. "Was today too much?’’
"No,’’ Ed croaked, looking offended. "It was fun before I thought of somethin’ bad.’’
Bad wasn’t the most definitive word when it came to kids. Roy hadn’t known that singular little word varied in severity until he gained his two boys. According to Ed, it was ‘bad’ was when Roy ushered Ed and Al into bed while it was still light outside. The same applied to when Roy during bath time and when he needed to scrub behind both kids’ ears because they were still at an age of needing pointers. However, bad was also used when Ed mumbled about having a ‘bad dream’ that clearly left the boy shaken to the core and…
"It wasn’t that bad, Roy,’’ Ed grumbled. "You – you shoved me into the cabinets, is all. I’m fine. Can you stop lookin’ at me like I’m meant to be scared of you? I’ll bite you again if you don’t stop.’’
…when Ed referred to Roy’s poor, PTSD-riddled reaction to their sweet attempt to cook dinner. It was why Roy could only assume that thinking of ‘something bad’ could vary from the minor to the major. Bad could be the fact Riza had bought organic milk, but bad could also involve something far less trivial and serious.
"I’m fine now,’’ Ed insisted to them both. He seemed to perk up. Embarrassment made him fidgety and flushed. "You can put me down now.’’
Riza didn’t look like she wanted to let him down, nor did Ed truly sound like he really wanted to get down. The small hand that was fisted in Riza’s blouse spoke volumes. Roy sighed, at a loss, and shared a glance with Riza as she slowly set Ed on his feet, her eyes still filled with doubt and concern. The kid’s eyes were flitting between his empty sleeve and Riza’s hand.
"Edward,’’ she began, albeit soft and stilted. "I’m sorry if I did something to upset you.’’
Ed bristled, looking as if he’d been caught up to no good. He scuttled away a few steps, his one hand twisting into the hem of his t-shirt. "You didn’t!’’ the boy yelped. "Riza, you – I – I made myself sad. Not you. I dunno why I got sad. I just did and I’m sorry.’’
Oh. Roy’s heart grew heavier as understanding bloomed. Ed had thought of something bad and it made him sad. It was such a basic childish phrase, but pieces were clicking into place. He could easily assume what the cause of that might’ve been. The parenting books Falman kept dropping on his desk in work or recommending to Riza had contained a lot of interesting information, yet one book in particular had been eye-opening even if Roy hadn’t particularly liked the title choice.
A Guide to Raising Grieving Children: awful title, good information. It made Roy panic less when he had information telling him the concerning incidents were normal, be it the boys’ guilt complex or sleeping problems. The book said that kids, more than adults, swung quickly between grieving and getting on with life after bereavement. They could be upset one minute and then ask to have cookies the next. It happened so quickly that the author nicknamed it as ‘puddle jumping’ which had made Roy wince. He was useless in rain, after all.
Losing a mother was a terrible thing.
Roy knew. Riza knew. Edward and Al knew. It was something they had all experienced in different ways. Roy wanted to see if he was on the right track but was hesitant to ask despite their relatively secluded location on an empty street corner with Falman sat waiting in the car. Riza, apparently, had no qualms if it meant getting answers.
"Could you tell me what it was then?’’ Riza smoothly asked.
Edward rubbed at his eyes and vehemently shook his head. "I said I was sorry.’’
"That isn’t – ’’ Riza paused with a pained sigh. "You don’t need to apologize for getting sad, Edward.’’
"You are allowed to feel things, you know,’’ Roy added. He ignored the look Riza sent his way. The radio silence was no more, he could pick up the obvious ‘you’re such a hypocrite’ being transmitted his way.
Edward shrugged and tugged at the empty sleeve of his right arm.
Delayed Grief had been a title in that aforementioned parenting book, and Riza had agreed with him how that entire chapter perfectly described Ed. When it became obvious no answers were going to be forthcoming, Roy tugged the kid against his side, offering a comforting squeeze. Ed heaved out a breath and melted against him, returning the half-hug. Regardless, Ed didn’t seem keen on giving either of them eye contact at the moment, suddenly finding the grass growing out of the pavement cracks far more interesting.
Roy let him have his moment to decompress. He rested one hand atop the boy’s head and reached out to take the canvas bag off Riza’s shoulder. The weight of the shopping inside was heavy and, unable to help himself, Roy let out an exaggerated grunt. "Did you two buy the whole market?’’
The light tease fell flat. Ed had fallen into one of those quiet, contemplative moods. The boy simply toed at the grass, his eyes only lifting high enough to frequently look at Riza’s hand with blatant want. Roy was going to say something before a very, very quiet confession cut through the air.
"I was holdin’ Mom’s hand before I lost my arm,’’ Ed rasped, staring blankly at Riza’s hand. "T-That’s the bad thought that made me sad.’’
This was new, Roy noted with a flicker of intrigue. The verbal honesty about emotions, that is. Unlike Al, getting Edward to open up was like pulling teeth. Yet, here it was, tiny baby steps of progress.
Riza’s entire posture loosened up with palpable relief. It was short-lived, though. Roy could see the exact moment she entered the uncharacteristic moment of self-doubt that cropped up mostly around the boys. She looked ready to apologize, once again assuming she had been the cause of such a thing, yet it swiftly when Ed reached for her hand, shyly twining their fingers together.