Archive of Our Own

Growing up, Riza Hawkeye always assumed she’d follow in her father’s footsteps, do something with the sciences. He filled her afternoons and weekends with lessons and experiments, had her collect soil samples and tree leaves and anything else that could remotely relate to the world of science. By the time Riza was eleven, though, it was clear that the sciences were not her forte. They didn’t hold her interest—couldn’t, really—and never would. Her father, rather than be outwardly upset, simply shut down and ceased interacting with her. He hadn’t touched her since she was twelve years old.

It was a lonely life for those few months until one day, when Riza was cleaning the attic, she stumbled upon a trunk of her mother’s old things—a diary, books, and lots of worldly items. It was then Riza learned of her mother’s love for language, particularly French. She read about her mother’s time spent abroad the summer before college and her dreams of being a linguist, dreams she gave up when she met Berthold, got married, and got pregnant with Riza. When the time came for Riza to pick a language to study in high school, French was the easy choice.

Of course, Riza didn’t let her love of language stop with French. Just like her mother, she studied as much as she could, but she found a connection with France and one with her mother through France. Getting a degree in French was perhaps foolish, but it landed her this job, teaching at East City High School, and she found that she loved it more than she ever could have dreamed.

Nevertheless, teaching had its ups and downs, and one of those downs was grading papers. And the state-mandated testing she had to prescribe.

“How is any seventeen year old supposed to know their purpose in life?” Riza complained, seated at one of the tables in the teacher’s lounge. It was her prep period, which happily coincided with Roy Mustang’s, the chemistry teacher and her not-so-small crush.

He looked up at her words, a slight smile playing at his lips. “What?” he asked.

“This question the kids have to answer,” Riza explained. “Quelle est ta raison d'être? What is your reason for being? What seventeen year old knows that? I don’t even know that.” She’d only graduated college the previous May, only turned twenty-three a handful of months ago. Her brain wasn’t even fully developed yet.

Roy’s face turned pensive. “I suppose it depends. Some people know. Maes would say it’s his family.”

“But he wouldn’t have known that at seventeen,” Riza argued. Maes Hughes was well-known for how much he loved his family, but he hadn’t met his wife, Gracia, until his senior year of college, and they’d just had their baby.

Roy shrugged. “Maybe. Maybe not.”

“Okay, so what’s your reason for being?” Riza asked, smirking slightly.

Roy hummed, tapping his finger against his lips. “Well, I love teaching. And Serena.”

The name hit like whiplash, every time he said it. Because no matter how hard Riza continued to fall for Roy, it wouldn’t change the fact that he had a long-time girlfriend whom he loved very much. Luckily for Riza, she had an excellent poker face. It had won her a lot of drinks in college.

“It’s supposed to be why you live, not who you love,” Riza corrected. She twisted her lips, pensive. “But I suppose I could live for teaching.” She did love working with her students, watching them grow in their education and open up to her. Winry Rockbell came to her often, a senior whose parents had died when she was eight. Alphonse Elric talked with her just as much, a sweet junior whose older brother was a demon in the science labs but kind and attentive in Riza’s French IV class.

“Well, what do some of the students’ say?” Roy asked, peeking his head over his own papers to peer at hers. Riza put her hand over the essays, oddly protective.

“These are private thoughts,” Riza argued.

Roy snorted. “If they took the assignment seriously. I’m willing to bet all but one or two completely bull-shitted the answer.”

“Maybe,” Riza conceded. “But they might have a hint of truth in them.”

“I don’t know why I was looking anyway,” Roy said. “I can’t speak French.”

“It would be difficult to read these French papers, then,” Riza agreed.

Roy laughed loudly as the bell rang, signaling the end of the period. Riza sighed and gathered her papers, not having graded a single one. Roy gave her a sympathetic look as they both stood from the table.

“You’ll get ‘em done,” he told her. “I believe in you.”

“Thanks,” Riza said wryly, praying her cheeks didn’t heat from his words. Stupid, stupid crush.

Riza and Roy left the teacher’s lounge, parting ways in the hallway—Riza to her classroom, Roy to the science labs. As she walked down the hallway, Riza waved to the few students who called out to her. She made it to her classroom and unlocked her door, letting herself in. She’d only just sat down at her desk when Winry Rockbell came barrelling in.

“Miss Hawkeye!” Winry cried. “Have you read our papers yet?”

Riza fought a blush. “Er, no, not quite. Why?”

“Can I have mine back? Please?” Winry asked, coming up to lean against Riza’s desk. The older woman blinked.

“I’m afraid not, Winry. These are state-mandated essay questions. I have to turn them in after I’ve graded them,” Riza told her student.

“What if I rewrite it? Can you save mine for last and switch them out?” Winry begged.

“What’s wrong with the one you turned in?” Riza turned her attention to the stack of papers, searching through them for Winry’s name. The girl in question squeaked and fluttered her hands.

“Don’t look at it! Don’t look at it!” Winry was bright red by this point.

“What’s in your paper, Winry?” Riza asked.

Winry pulled at the two strands of hair framing her face, looking all around the empty classroom. No one else had arrived yet, but that would soon change.

“It’s just… private,” Winry said finally.

“Well, I’m the only one who will be looking at them,” Riza said.

“Promise?” Winry asked meekly.

“Of course,” Riza said. “What has you so flustered anyway?”

Winry bit her lip and leaned in closer.

“I just… I may have written mine about someone,” she whispered.

“Your reason for living?” Riza asked. “It’s someone else?”

Winry looked like she was about to burst. “Please be quiet!”

“Okay, okay!” Riza bit her lip to keep from smiling. She had seen Winry be all kinds of neurotic but never this embarrassed. “I’ll grade them tonight and send them in in the morning. I won’t say a word.”

“Promise?” Winry asked.

“Promise,” Riza said, rolling her eyes fondly. Winry let go of her hair, face returning to its normal shade.

“Okay.” She took a breath. “Okay. Thank you.”

“No problem, Winry,” Riza said. “Go ahead and get ready for class.”

Winry nodded and hurried to her seat, sitting down and busying herself with pulling out her things. Riza turned to her computer and started it up, glancing at the blonde girl as other students began filing in. Riza wondered who Winry could possibly be so embarrassed about.

At the end of the day, Riza packed up her things in her teacher tote, ready to head home and lay on her couch, reading a bunch of what was sure to be shitty papers and petting her dog in-between. But as she twisted the key in her door’s lock, a warm body collided with hers.

“Riza!” Rebecca Catalina had a way of drawing Riza’s name out, almost yodeling in some instances. The two girls had been roommates in college and managed to find a school hiring multiple positions the year before. It was pure luck that they were still together, but Riza wasn’t one to look a gift horse in the mouth.

“Hey, Becca,” Riza said, extracting herself from her friends’ grip.

“Are you ready?” Rebecca asked.

“For what?” Riza asked, already regretting the question.

Rebecca frowned. “Movie night? The Little Mermaid? Any of this ringing a bell?”

It was, and that made Riza want to groan even more. She’s forgotten about the plans made last week. She wanted nothing more than to beg off, go home, and grade papers—well, not necessarily grade the papers, but get the grading out of the way. But Riza knew that that was a hopeless cause. When Becca wanted something, she got it. And what she wanted was girl time: movies, then margaritas at the new Mexican place downtown. It didn’t matter that Riza hated tequila.

“So, are you ready?” Rebecca repeated, eyes widening.

Riza fought a sigh and forced a smile. “Yep.”

The two women caught the four-thirty showing for The Little Mermaid. Rebecca sobbed; Riza would take the fact that she cried to her grave.

There was something so sweet about Ariel and Eric, sweeter than in the animated version. The “Kiss the Girl” scene was something out of a romance novel, and Riza couldn’t help the ache she felt in her chest. Sometimes, it felt like she’d never have that. She definitely wouldn’t have it with the person she wanted it with.

After the movie, Riza drove them to La Casita, the new Mexican place. She’d deemed herself the designated driver, but Rebecca had promised that Riza wouldn’t leave the place sober. Riza really hoped Becca was just being her usual over-the-top self and didn’t have a scheme up her sleeve.

But Riza knew her best friend too well, and she wasn’t surprised at all when the two walked inside and found a bunch of fellow teachers clustered around a large, high-top table.

“Catalina! Hawkeye!” That was Havoc, the gym teacher. He was friends with Roy and had goals of being friendlier with Rebecca. He swooped in almost immediately and led the both of them to the table, sliding a margarita over to Rebecca and a vodka cran to Riza.

“As promised,” he added.

Riza threw Becca a look, but the curly-haired woman was too busy slurping at her drink and avoiding eye contact with her friend. She let herself get caught up in conversation with Havoc, and Riza let it slide, turning to Breda, the government teacher, and discussing the mandated essays they’d just been forced to assign that week.

Riza was in the process of complaining once more about the question she’d been assigned when Havoc let out a loud cheer of, “Mustang!” Riza turned to see Roy with a woman who could rival Rebecca on his arm—Serena. The woman’s nails dug into Roy’s arm as they got closer, her smile turning from easy to tight. Riza wondered what had the woman practically hissing like a cat. Roy had been teaching at the school for almost four years now; surely she wasn’t nervous around the teachers?

“Hey, everyone!” Roy called, eyes grazing over everyone gathered. He paused when he met Riza’s gaze and smiled. “Got those papers graded, Hawkeye?”

Riza frowned. “Unfortunately, no. Becca dragged me here.”

“You don’t want to hang out with us? You wound me.” Roy placed a hand on his chest, staggering a little. Riza rolled her eyes and offered Serena a small wave.

“Nice to see you again,” she said. They’d met at the Halloween party Havoc had thrown and the winter party the school had provided. Serena didn’t talk to Riza a lot, but she wasn’t going to take it personal. Riza didn’t particularly want to accidentally let her crush slip to her crush’s girlfriend, even if she was known for being tight-lipped.

“You too,” Serena muttered, casting her eyes elsewhere. Riza shrugged to herself and took a sip of her drink.

“You’re having that much trouble with the papers?” Breda asked, nudging her.

Riza rolled her eyes. “I just think it’s a stupid question to ask high schoolers.”

“And what is it?”

“Basically, it’s something along the lines of, what do you live for? How are seventeen year olds supposed to answer that?”

“The same way they answer how they would restructure the government—they bullshit.” Breda grinned and tilted his beer back for a swallow.

“Maybe not all of them,” Riza said. “Winry Rockbell begged me to let her rewrite hers. Said something about writing it about someone.”

“Aw, Winry has a crush!” Rebecca cooed, magically appearing at Riza’s side.

“Keep your mouth shut, Becca!” Riza hissed. “Winry told me that in confidence.”

“Who do you think it is?” Becca asked. She was already sloppy, though Riza couldn’t tell if she’d quite ventured into drunk territory.

“It doesn’t matter because it’s none of our business,” Riza said, taking Rebecca by the shoulders and sitting her down on a nearby stool. Perhaps Riza could dip out sooner than she’d thought. She’d only had half of her drink and was completely fine to drive.

“What’s your reason for living, Hawkeye?” Havoc was at it again. He was clearly drunk and swaying in place.

Riza pursed her lips. “Who knows—what’s yours?”

“Catalina, here,” Havoc said, bending down to plant a loud kiss on the woman’s cheek. Rebecca nearly fell off her stool in shock. Everyone seemed frozen in place for a minute before Breda let out a laugh and slapped Havoc on the shoulder.

“Right, Havoc, good one,” he said.

Havoc frowned. “Okay, then, Breda, what’s yours?”

“Food,” Breda deadpanned. At that, Riza let out a snort. Leave it to Breda to lighten the mood. Havoc groaned and turned to Roy, who’d somehow managed to grab a beer for himself and a purple cocktail for Serena. They stood close together, his arm around her waist.

“Yours, Mustang?” Havoc asked.

“Serena, of course,” Roy said, lifting her hand and planting a kiss on the back of it. It was so tender, so loving. It reminded Riza of The Little Mermaid, how Ariel had run her finger over Eric’s lips again and again until he’d gotten her name right. Until it had felt right.

“I think I need to get home and get grading,” Riza said, standing up. “How much was the drink?”

“On the house, Hawkeye,” Havoc said. “Catalina’s, too.”

Riza smiled. “Thanks, Havoc. Come on, Becca.”

“Can I stay at yours?” Rebecca mumbled, slumping against Riza. She’d clearly snuck more drinks than Riza had realized. She was past tipsy at this point.

“Sure, Becca, you can stay at mine,” Riza said, rolling her eyes fondly. She slung one of Rebecca’s arms around her shoulders and began to make her way out of the restaurant. She waved goodbye to the teachers she passed, and as she reached the door, she realized that they hadn’t even ordered food.

“Hawkeye, hey!” It was Roy. He sidled up on the other side of Rebecca. “Need a hand?”

“No, I’m good,” Riza said, perhaps a little too curtly. She tried again, lightening her tone. “It’s just college all over again.”

“Are you sure? I can help you to your car,” Roy offered.

“It’s fine,” Riza assured him. “No one’s gonna help me get her to my apartment. I can manage twenty feet in the parking lot.”

“Well, if you’re positive…” Roy trailed off, uncertain and strangely looking a little hurt.

“It’s fine, Roy, thank you,” Riza said. She hoisted Rebecca up a little and gave him a smile. “Have a good weekend.”

“Have fun grading those papers,” Roy said. He opened his mouth like he wanted to add something, but closed it. He gave a small wave before returning to the others and his girlfriend. Riza tried not to look as he swooped in, wrapping his arms around Serena’s waist and planting a kiss somewhere on her face. Riza couldn’t tell from this angle, and she was grateful.

Riza managed to get Rebecca out to her car and buckled into the passenger seat. She climbed into the driver’s seat and let out a breath. At least she’d cried earlier at the movie; that would have to do for today.