Alone in This Together

"Sweet is the memory of distant friends! Like the mellow rays of the departing sun, it falls tenderly, yet sadly, on the heart."

~Washington Irving

Six weeks had passed since Hawkeye's departure. Her old dorm room still stood empty, unlikely to be reassigned to a new cadet until the beginning of the next term.

After one particularly trying day, an exhausted Rebecca found herself standing stupidly in the doorway of the empty room and wondering why. It wasn't that she'd forgotten Riza was no longer there, but rather that her feet had taken the familiar route automatically. It was as if her subconscious had developed a sort of muscle memory: in need of comfort, and accustomed to finding it with the room's former inhabitant, she'd been drawn there instinctively.

It happened twice more before Rebecca finally caved and slipped inside. Throwing herself on the bare mattress, she stared up at the ceiling and thought of all the things she wanted to say to her friend.

She missed Riza desperately. The quiet, genuine kindness, the surprisingly wicked sense of humor, the thoughtful and insightful advice...Rebecca even missed the gentle lectures about taking her classes more seriously.

Did Riza miss her at all, Rebecca wondered? Was she being careful, out there? Had she made friends in her unit? Had she received the letter Rebecca had sent, yet? If so, why hadn't she written back?

Later that night, as she turned into the corridor leading back to her own room, Rebecca nearly ran headlong into Cadet Creevy, the self-appointed photojournalist of his peers.

"Oh! Catalina-sempai!" he cried, leaping back to avoid a collision. His ever-present camera swung precariously from its strap around his neck before he caught and steadied it with one hand.

"Hey, Colin," she greeted the younger boy, somewhat wearily. "Sorry 'bout that; I didn't mean to run you over."

"No, I'm sorry! I should pay more attention to where I'm going," he protested at once. "And anyway, you're just the person I was looking for," he went on eagerly. He paused to rummage in his pocket, and then produced a small envelope. "Here!"

Rebecca blinked.

"What's this?" she asked, surprised.

"Remember when you and Hawkeye-sempai ran into some of us freshman at Templetons? A few weeks back?" he asked. "I snapped a couple photos."

Of course you did, Rebecca thought wryly.

"And I thought maybe you and Hawkeye-sempai might like copies of the ones you're in," he was saying cheerfully. "Only, I know she's gone now, and I don't know what unit she got assigned to… but maybe you could mail them to her?"

Rebecca melted just a fraction. Creevy could be annoying at times…but he was a sweet kid. And he did take pretty decent photos, which he always freely offered to whoever appeared in them.

"Thanks, Colin," Rebecca said. "I'm sure Hawkeye would appreciate your thinking of her. Don't worry; I'll see that she gets them," she added. And she rewarded him with a dazzling smile (which made him more than a little weak at the knees) before she waved and continued on down the hall.

Once safely in her own room again, Rebecca opened the envelope to examine the pictures.

She couldn't help but laugh at the first few. They were group shots, with Creevy's over-eager friends crowded around the two girls, who had been ambushed at their table by the younger cadets. What had started as their usual girls' night out had suddenly devolved into an odd sort of group date. She and Riza had even condescended to dance with a few of the younger boys, who had been beyond thrilled by the attention.

But before any of that, when the boys had still been enthusiastically exchanging greetings, Creevy had told everyone to look his way and smile. The boys (clearly accustomed to the constant taking of photos) had quickly arranged themselves around Catalina and Hawkeye, who had remained seated.

In the first photo, the two girls looked a little bemused, but in the second, Creevy had captured them exchanging an amused look. Riza's face had that secretive little smile of hers, and Rebecca's expression was slightly mischievous, while all five of the boys beamed directly into the camera. By the third photo, Rebecca had leaned forward a bit and rested a forearm on the shoulder of the boy kneeling at her feet, whose face had turned pink at the contact. Meanwhile, Riza's perfect posture and benevolent smile left her looking exactly like a young queen surrounded by her adoring subjects.

The last picture was the real jewel of the collection, though. It hadn't taken long for the unwanted attentions of their new fan club to grate on her nerves, Rebecca recalled. At one point, she had looped an arm around Riza's neck and leaned in close to propose a ludicrous plan of escape. Halfway through the needlessly complicated plan, which had involved exchanging clothes with strangers in the women's powder room, Riza had started to laugh, which had made Rebecca laugh. The two of them had leaned against each other, each with an arm across the other's shoulders, giggling helplessly at the sheer ridiculousness of it all. Colin had snapped a photo without their even noticing he was watching.

I have to find a way to get these to Riza, Rebecca thought...but she wasn't willing to risk the photos to the postal system. Not on any account. They had to be kept safe.

And what better place to keep something precious than a locked box?

Six weeks earlier

Riza had found her slumped over the desk in her dorm room, surrounded by stacks of notes and sleeping soundly on an opened textbook.

"Catalina," Riza had called softly, rapping her knuckles against the open door. Rebecca had sat bolt upright, scattering her papers left and right.

"I'm awake," she'd said, thickly. And then she'd winced and pressed a hand to the back of her neck. "Well, sort of, anyway," she'd amended.

Riza had just smiled and stepped closer, pausing to set something down at her feet.

"Here," she'd said, pushing Rebecca's hair out of the way. She'd kneaded her friend's neck and shoulder blade, soothing away the knots that had formed. It'd been all Rebecca could do not to moan obscenely or collapse across her work again.

"You're an angel," she'd said reverently. Riza had chuckled.

"I have an ulterior motive," she'd admitted. "I wanted to ask you for a favor." Rebecca had dragged herself upright and turned in her chair to raise an expectant eyebrow. Meanwhile, Riza had bent down to retrieve the small satchel she'd carried in.

"I was hoping you would look after this for me," she'd said, sounding a little nervous. Rebecca had taken the opportunity to peek into the bag. 'This' had turned out to be Riza's memory box. Absurdly touched, Rebecca could only nod stupidly.

"Yeah, of course," she'd stammered out. "Of course I'll take care of it."

"The key is taped to the bottom," Riza had started to explain. And then she'd had to pause for a long moment to collect herself. "If something should happen to me," she'd finally managed, in a husky voice. "I mean, if I don't make it back, could you...you see, I've left a few personal letters in there, just in case I—if I...would you send them for me? Please?" she'd asked, eyes pleading.

Rebecca had wanted to protest, to say that she'd never have to send those letters, because of course Riza would make it back. She'd be perfectly fine, the war would end in no time, Riza would make it home safe and sound, and then the two of them could go shoe shopping and talk about boys—and everything would be just fine.

But all the meaningless platitudes on the tip of her tongue had melted away under the intensity of Riza's gaze.

"Of course," Rebecca had breathed. "Of course I will. I promise." Riza's shoulders had relaxed fractionally.

"Thank you," she'd said sincerely. Rebecca had smiled through her tears.

"You'd better come back, Hawkeye," she'd said, playfully stern. "Cuz I don't wanna have to rifle through all your crap looking for love letters."

"I'll do my best; I certainly wouldn't want to inconvenience you," Riza had retorted, her eyes suspiciously bright.

Present Day

Rebecca hadn't even looked at the treasure box since Riza's departure. She'd carefully hidden it in the top shelf of her closet and prayed that she would never have cause to unlock it. But surely Riza would appreciate having some tangible memory of her academy days to add to her other mementos. For that, Rebecca was willing to make an exception.

Before anything else, though, Rebecca checked the time. Good. Fisher wasn't due back for at least another half hour. Not that her roommate would snoop even if she knew the box was there, but...Riza had entrusted this to her, and it was private, and Rebecca wasn't about to share that with anybody else.

She carefully fetched the box down from its hiding place, and felt along the bottom for the key she knew was secured there. Sitting on the edge of her bed, she stared down at the box for a long moment, remembering the afternoon she had first discovered it, and the way Riza had laughed and sighed and blushed over its contents.

Finally, Rebecca turned the key in the lock, resolved to just slip the photos in and close it up again without peeking at the letters Riza had entrusted to her care. But then she found herself staring down at her own name.

"To Rebecca Catalina, in the event of my death," it read - black ink on cream paper. Rebecca's heart stuttered in her chest. Her fingers twitched towards the letter, then drew back as though burned.

No.

This letter wasn't meant for her.

This letter was addressed to a person who would've just been notified of the death of her best friend. And Rebecca wasn't that person. Not yet. And God willing, not ever.

Her hands shook as she nudged the letter aside, intending to leave the photos beneath it. If…if she did ever have to read those words…if, heaven forbid, she had to honor the last wishes of her beloved friend…then she wasn't sure she could bear to do so after seeing that friend's face smiling at her from a photograph. Best to leave the pictures where she wouldn't come across them unprepared, Rebecca thought. Not that she would ever have cause open this box again, goddammit! Because Riza was going to be FINE!

There were two other envelopes with hers. Rebecca carefully slid the photos underneath them, her heart pounding. Without actually meaning to, she saw that one of the other envelopes was addressed to a Major General Grumman – which must be the grandfather Riza hardly knew. So the third one…surely that was meant for Riza's mysterious 'friend?' How could it be for anyone else?

All Rebecca would need to do was nudge the second envelope a half an inch to the left, and that man's name would be revealed. But instead, she squeezed her eyes shut and slowly closed the box.

Of course she wanted to know his name. She'd been curious about him ever since she'd learned of his existence. But she wouldn't stoop to finding out like this, snooping through her friend's things. Her friend, whose trust was so difficult to earn in the first place, was counting on her to look after these personal items. Rebecca shouldn't—no, wouldn't—betray that trust.

"Dammit, Hawkeye," Rebecca whispered fiercely. A tear rolled down her cheek and dropped onto the box with tiny metallic 'plink.' "You'd fucking better come back alive and tell me about him yourself, you hear me? You have to. You have to."

Miles away, Private Riza Hawkeye stared blankly into the flames of a campfire. She was due on guard duty at first light, but she knew she wouldn't be able to sleep just yet. All around her, the other soldiers in her unit joked and chattered with each other like old friends, distracting themselves from the death and fear and horror all around them. They didn't actively exclude her, but they didn't make much of an effort to engage her in conversation, either.

Even here, she was an outsider: regarded as a sort of prodigy sniper whose skills had made the brass sit up and take notice. She was a comrade, of course, and they'd have her back in a heartbeat… but she was the only female in the unit at the moment, and she was a few years younger than most of the men, and she hadn't been part of their unit for very long. They simply didn't have much to say to her.

Hawkeye told herself that she didn't really mind. Loneliness was an old, familiar companion.

In spite of that bit of self-deception, Riza couldn't deny that she missed Rebecca dreadfully: Clever, confident Rebecca with her snarky sense of humor, her spontaneity, and her willingness to fly to Riza's defense at the slightest provocation. Riza even missed those obnoxious unsolicited embraces Rebecca was always forcing on her. If ever Riza had needed a hug, it was now.

Rebecca had always had an uncanny ability to keep Riza from dwelling on unpleasant topics with her lighthearted prattle. What she wouldn't give to be able to listen to Rebecca talk about her latest heartbreak, or about some juicy bit of gossip, or about the relative merits of a muscular, athletic type of man versus a quieter, intellectual one. Anything to take her mind off of the lives she'd already taken.

Did Rebecca miss her at all? Riza wondered. Which of the upperclassmen was she pursuing this week? Had her marksmanship improved at all? Did she still go out dancing on the weekends? It had only been a few weeks, but already her Academy days seemed another lifetime ago. A lifetime so far removed from her daily routine here that it felt almost absurd to long for it.

Hell, she still missed Roy, and he hadn't really been part of her life for over four years, now.

Someone pressed a tin mug into her hand, and Riza's icy fingers closed around it automatically. The welcome scent of bitter black coffee hit her nose, and she shook herself out of her stupor long enough to thank the corporal who had brought it to her. He smiled wanly and moved away. Hawkeye watched him go.

And tightened her grip on the mug until her knuckles turned white.

Rebecca wasn't here. And no amount of wishful thinking could change that—she had to get through this nightmare on her own. No one was going to hold her hand and tell her to be strong, that everything would be all right in the end. She had to find the strength within herself, alone. She had no choice.

There was no going back, now. Far too late for that. But if she went forward…then maybe, just maybe, she might meet her friend again, someday.

All she had to do was stay alive.

A.N. All right, so I know I said the next chapter would deal with Hawkeye's homecoming...but then this happened. Too melodramatic? (Now you see why I wanted to skip over the war in the first place). Anyway, the NEXT chapter will be about Hawkeye's return to Central post-Ishval. No, really! The good news is that the chapter is mostly written already, so I should have it up a little bit sooner :D Thanks again for the follows and favorites and reviews, everyone!

xoxo Janieshi