Can you guys believe May I Feel turned one last week? Its been such a CRAZY YEAR. And we thank you guys who read us for making our hearts brim with fuzzy goodness. Honestly. I've also commissioned some art but since ffn is TOTALLY UNCOOL when it comes to images you can find it on the fic page on ao3 or even on tumblr under capthawkeye. I hope you totally enjoy this and that your holidays have been warm and kind!
soften the parts that we have lost / kiana azizian, infinite
Central City is cool and breezy the following morning despite the bright sunshine beating down, and the air is even cooler in the underground levels of the parking garage. Riza swings in her backpack into the trunk of the rental car with the rest of their belongings. Her eyes feel puffy from the early rise and tired, but she looks forward to sleeping in her own bed - or, rather, a bed that's familiar to her. They had said their goodbyes upstairs and poor Elicia didn't want to let go of Roy until she was swayed with good parenting. She even waved a goodbye to Riza in between tears that Gracia assured was her developing melodrama.
"Is that everything?"
"I believe so." Roy answers after the slam of the trunk door. He gets into the driver's seat and her into the passenger seat when she sees Maes in the wing mirror flailing an arm and carrying a medium-sized cardboard box with him.
"Roy," she says abruptly to catch his attention and points to the rear-view mirror.
"What the-" He gets out, leaving the car door open. "I'm sorry, mister. I don't have any change."
From where she sits, she can clearly see the Maes' red face from making the trip and running to find them. He scoffs and shoves the box he carries into Roy's arms with one swift gesture. "These, forgotten trinkets, are yours."
Roy digs around the box and raises his eyebrows, recognition cresting over his face and impressed with seeing his old things. "Where'd you dig these up?"
"We started," he wheezes, needing a moment. "Shut up, your shit is heavy. We started clearing out the extra study room and we found these buried away."
Roy's tone is teasing. "Clearing out the study? Hopefully to make way for a gym. Or at least a treadmill, buddy. Cardio goes a long way."
"No." Maes glares at him and straightens up from bending over his knees. He pushes his glasses back up his nose. "Nothing's set in stone yet. Elicia's barely turned three, but we're trying."
Roy opens the car door behind his and the box is hastily shoved into the seat. The contents shift and the poorly closed box shows her a bunch of papers. Journals, she suspects. When she looks up, Roy is patting his best friend encouragingly. "That's really good news," he says; the pride suffuses through his tone. She can't see it but she can hear the smile on his face. "And know that the offer still stands, should anything happen."
Maes gives him a humbled smile in return. "I appreciate that. I think this time we'll be better prepared; no, we are better prepared. Knowing is half the battle. But don't let me hold you up. I'll keep you updated."
Riza smiles as they hug goodbye, again.
"Stay safe," Maes tells him, before ducking his head into the car and winking at her. "Be good, Riza."
She waves back. "No promises there." She moves to figure out where the AUX port is on the radio when she hears Maes speak again.
"She called. Last night." His tone is quieter. It doesn't resound off the concrete like it was a minute ago but the open car door lets the sound flow in regardless. "Just wanted to give you the heads up in case of, well, anything."
Roy sighs. "I'm sure she has. I've made myself as clear as I can."
"I know you have. Just be careful, mate."
The silence stretches on, almost to the point of uncomfortable. "I'll do my best."
The door shuts swiftly as he gets in. Maes knocks the metal frame of the car as they drive off, arm raised in a final farewell.
"What was that about?"
Roy has this dazed look on his face, unfaltering even as they reach the blinding rays of the morning sun as they exit the garage. It takes him a moment to ground himself. "Oh, nothing. It's just that…" As he says it, he almost looks like a kid himself. "They're trying for another kid."
She thinks he looks adorable. "Oh! That's nice. You must be so ecstatic to be a godfather again."
He shrugs, trying to downplay the smitten smile on his face. "I just think it's exciting for them. There were difficulties following Elicia's birth and it's admirable that she's willing to go through that again, knowing the risk."
Riza holds her tongue on the thoughts of adoption and foster care, reminding herself a single couple do not have the power to change the entire system. "Yes, it sounds very brave," she replies. "And I think Elicia will be happy to have a little brother or sister."
"I think so too. But, how are you? You sound a little down."
Riza looks at him warily and deflects just as quickly. "I think I'm still tired, I don't think my night was very restful." In anticipation to his response, she amends, "And please don't say that it was because of your "hot lovin" that kept me up."
He snorts and laughter laces his words. "I wouldn't have used that exact phrase, but you caught me. Why don't you nap? We're ways away from home yet."
"I think I will." She leans the seat back, getting herself comfortable. "And I know how you operate...sir."
She wakes up and there are pastures passing them by. Cow, windmills and craggy hills in every direction. The Eastern provinces might be simpler than their neighbours, but there's a simple kind of beautiful that exists here and Riza wouldn't change it for the world.
"Good morning."
Riza inhales deeply. "How long was I out?"
Roy hums. "I'd say hour-and-a-half, two hours tops."
She blinks, trying to rid herself of the sleep in her eyes. "Where are we?"
"We're about to cross into the Eastern section. Moomoo cows as far as the eye can see for another hour or so."
Riza raises an eyebrow. "Moomoo cows?"
"Do you...not… call them that? How do you know what kind of noise they make if you don't preface it with that?"
She snickers as she peers out the car window. "I think your nickname for them is very valid, Professor. Does your colleague Elicia call them that too?"
"Now you're just being mean."
Riza's face scrunches up when the topic of Aerugo suddenly crosses her mind. She figures now would be a good a time as any. "So… Aerugo."
Out of the corner of her eye, she spies him perking up in his seat. "Yes?"
"Are they getting married again? What's the whole deal with that?"
"Yes, that's basically what constitutes as a vow renewal."
"But I thought vow renewals were something you did when you've been married for decades. Not after a few years."
Roy snorts. "You underestimate what excuses people will give to justify a pachanga. Er, fiesta, party."
"Wait, what was that first word you used?"
"Pachanga. Fiesta just doesn't have the right emotion behind it. Anyway, parties like the ones for children's birthday, like Elicia's, aren't rare. The same people would be at another relative's kids' communion, baptism, kindergarten graduation and nobody is going to want to be the person tearing down a declaration of love. It's quite ingenious, really."
"Sounds like you guys just like to...pachanga?"
"Yes, in some instances it can be used as a verb."
"So, it's just the ceremony?"
Roy's head tilts side to side, considering the question. "No. Well, kind of. It's a long weekend on an island, getting together with a group of close friends. The amount of people there won't be as many as they had at Elicia's birthday party. Obviously not everyone can drop what they're doing at the drop of a hat to spend a week on vacation but most are gonna try for a few days at least."
"Will you?"
"I'd like to. The last time I visited Aerugo was for their wedding. I doubt a lot has changed but it's a beautiful place. The colors are vibrant there and pictures cannot do it justice. From what I remember, at least." He smirks at some memory. "There was a lot of wine involved last time."
Riza hums thoughtfully. "Sounds like it will be a good time."
His eyes slide to hers. "It should be. Even more so if you accompany me."
She can't help it - the incredulous laughter leaves her before she has a chance to consider how that could sound. "Right. I'll just find the spare two-hundred thousands cenz lying around, shall I?"
He does a good job of keeping his face neutral, but Riza knows a hurt tone when she hears it. "I'm only heartless when it comes to grading, Riza. You would be my plus one."
"No, that's - that's too much money. I couldn't let you waste- spend that kind of money on me."
Roy lets out a frustrated sigh that pushes the hair out of his eyes. "This isn't about me trying to shame you because I have disposable income and you don't - I want you to come with me. I don't like that I can't just take you out for a nice dinner whenever I like, or even go catch a movie with you. Y'know - the things that every other couple gets to do without fear. But then opportunities like these come up, and it's like some big neon sign telling me that here's the chance you've been waiting for, take it. And even if we could go out on dates like normal people I'd still want you to come with me anyway."
His impassioned response gives her pause. It's resolute, adamant, but there's something that burrows at her, disallowing her to be swayed. It takes her a moment to find her response.
"Is it really about the money?"
"Yes! And… no," she admits ruefully.
"Gracia mentioned Aubrey."
Riza nods slowly, letting him fill in that space and going with that flow. "It was quite the ambush, for lack of a better word. And I wasn't about to monopolize your time simply because I felt uncomfortable amongst people I didn't know. As tempting as it was to do."
"I know it can feel intimidating and people were just interested because I've lost contact with a lot of them. You were a symbol as much as an explanation as to why that was."
It pains her to admit that he has a solid argument. "Surely there was more talk than that."
"Quite possibly. I wasn't interested in hearing it."
She falls silent.
"Shall I paint you a picture?"
She turns her head to look back at him. "Of what?"
"Aerugo. What you'll be missing out on."
"What could I possibly be missing that I can't find in East City?"
He doesn't vocalise it, but she knows he's thinking then let me take you. "The ocean, for starters. The miles and miles of vineyards. It's an island, actually - off the coast. The place is dotted with old churches tucked away. The food is to die for, and the views even more so." His voice takes on a reminiscing lilt, the corners of his lips turning up in memory. "We'd hire out one of the old villas overlooking the bay. Freshly pressed coffee and fruits for breakfast. Go sailing in the morning and drink ourselves silly in the afternoon."
"You can sail?"
"I'd teach you - you'd be a natural at it, I'd wager."
Riza bites her lip. "I don't even have a passport."
"Then we'll figure that out once we get back home." His free hand reaches for hers and she takes it. "I mean it when I say I'll pay for what you need."
He makes it sound so simple.
She starts slow, trying to sort out the muddled threads in her head into an articulation that is cohesive. "I know classes won't take much of my time now that the semester is over…"
He nods once and slow as he elongates the i in "Right".
She purses her lips and twists her fingers together tightly. How does she explain what waits for her at a psychiatric facility? "But I don't think it would responsible of me to simply drop everything and not expect there to be consequences waiting at the end."
"Consequences like?"
"I do have prior commitments that I can't just rearrange just like that." She waves her hand, out of his grip, for emphasis.
"Which commitments?"
Maybe she's imagining it, maybe she's wanting to imagine it, but Roy's tone cuts through harshly. She can't understand his line of questioning - why he needs to question her at all in the first place.
"I'm not outright saying no, Roy, but I can't just give you an answer and then let the chips fall where they may."
"I agree and I'm not saying you should. Just," He adjusts his tone. "I'm only curious about these arrangements you have. It's caught me by surprise, that's all."
She looks out the window. "Just because I spend a lot of my time with you, doesn't mean I don't have a life outside of you."
From the corner of her eye she can see his jaw drop. "Riza, that's not, that's not what I- why are you being so cagey about this?"
"Cagey how?" She bites her tongue, feeling the guilty pleasure of her pettiness.
Frustration seeps into his voice. "Dancing around answers, being particularly defensive about this. Like you're hiding something."
"You're one to talk." Riza hears the creak of leather from the steering wheel as its gripped harder in his hands. She wets her lips and sighs, because he has a point. This is something so hurtful that she's bore alone in the past. She doesn't want anyone to use it against her; as if her father's failings or his state of mind reflects directly on her. "I can't just drop plans to see my father. Not…not when they take weeks to plan out. You've known about this for a while, so when were you going to ask me?"
Roy frowns. "I wanted to wait until your grades were released. If this ever comes back to bite us I didn't want there to be any insinuations from anybody that I used an overseas holiday as a means to tempt you or buy your silence."
"Then tell me what the game plan is, Roy. I should know."
He clears his throat. "If, at the bottom of all this, this is something you want to do, to come with me, then I'll help you get it handled."
"How do you mean?"
He words it carefully. "If your worries are missing an opportunity to visit your father and if it's within the scope of things you want to do, then perhaps you could reschedule? Maybe see him sooner then, before we leave, than push it out until after the fact."
She falls silent again, not having considered the option. The visits were usually so static, so concrete in her schedule that changing the dates seemed inconceivable. Anxiety and trepidation clouded her whenever thoughts about visits came up. There were so many variable to consider and this sporadic invitation was creating uncomfortable waves.
"I won't badger you about it again, but I will ask about it later this week, just so I know where you are in your headspace. Does that sound fair?"
She nods and concedes for now. "I'll give them a call."
The rest of the car ride is quiet until the pastures turn into housing developments and suburbs. It's just past noon when they finally reach his place, and Riza is utterly grateful. The nap, while nice, had given her an awkward crick in her back and it isn't until she extends her body out fully that she can feel the tense muscles relaxing. They had picked up some Xingese takeaway once they had reached the city limits, and she is more than ready to demolish some quality fried rice.
Roy has barely opened the front door when his phone lights up and it's kind of hilarious how quickly his face loses colour. "Oh, fuck."
"Who is it?"
He shakes his head, swiping to answer. "Madre," he says distractedly, and then amends, "My mother" as if he meant to say it in Amestrian all along.
He walks away further into the apartment and the sounds of a very sharp voice starts talking in a volume she can hear from where she's standing. The caller is chastising him, judging by the way he pulls the phone away from his ear. Riza figures he'll be distracted for a while, and motions for the car keys, which he hands her absentmindedly, jabbering away in Spanish.
She leaves the takeaway on the kitchen island, sneaking one of the spring rolls as she drops back down to the carport to pick up the rest of their luggage. It's a tight squeeze, but she manages to do it in one trip, Roy trying to stifle a laugh as she waddles down the hallway, her fingers protesting as the leather straps of his bags cut deep into her skin.
The dismount is inelegant in the bedroom. She sets down the worn cardboard box atop the bed and then drops the bags next to it without considering how close it is to the edge. The box topples off the bed and spills papers, envelopes, and folders as if it was trying to reach the sunset washed window in one final, desperate bid for daylight.
Riza kneels to the floor to gather it together and stuff them back inside the box until she gets a better look at what she's handling. Her curiosity piques when she sees a well worn front cover of a PhD thesis with his name on it, gold embossing worn down after years in storage. Looking closer, she sees receipts and old bills mixed in with scholarly journals, dog-eared and faded.
It's a box of things he left behind.
One of the envelopes tears from seams that has met its limits. Paper of thicker stock spill over her lap, colorful and glossy as it cascades out before she can catch it. Then she recognizes the faces. Military uniform, graduation, candids featuring a younger Maes and Roy, another with youthful optimism, and a sleeping Roy with a scraggly, marker-drawn mustache and Maes grinning at the camera with the marker in question. It's a handful of them, but there's a signal going off in her head, telling her this only features people she already knows. Sure, there are pictures of pictures with buddies. It's strange that she can't see any that feature his mother or his sisters, she thinks as she reaches for the broken envelope. Or even -
There's a photo that remained inside, folded in half. "for when u miss me xoxo" it reads on the back in handwriting that is somewhere between half-cursive and half-print. The imprint of a red lipstick kiss is perfectly preserved right below it.
She weighs the decision of looking at this photo in her head for a full minute and her index finger slides in between the folded sides for another. The note left behind clearly implies something suggestive, but she'd get a face to this enigma she's been placing in the back burner for months. The other photos are returned to the box, and Riza leans back, fully resting her weight on her legs, deliberating.
Her curiosity gets the better of her and she flips the photo open. She breathes out in relief when it's not a full nude or anything sexually explicit and private. However, Riza studies the photo and acknowledges she has come across something still incredibly intimate.
The photo is casual in nature. A capture of a singular moment in time with two people in their early twenties, set in a tropical backdrop. Roy in his younger years is only discernible by the short cut of his hair. He holds a cigarette and has a smile across his face, eyes bright and youthful like all the others. He's wearing his standard button up shirt in pink shade that looks exceptionally and surprisingly stunning on him, popping out more than anything else in the photo. And it's also the first of any photo where he's pictured holding a cigarette between two of his fingers. His hand is tucked into his front jean pocket. He looks carefree, confident with a cocky smile on his face. Completely unperturbed by the arms wrapped around him.
The woman standing behind him is shorter than him in stature. Half her face hides behind Roy's shoulder, but just over the crest reveals her brown smiling eyes. She bears a glowing café au lait complexion with brown curls short and soft enough that would make Rebecca envious. Her arms coil over his tailor-fitted shirt and she's tucked a hand into the unbuttoned portion over his sternum and slipped it well into his shirt, undoubtedly to feel the well-defined muscle under the fabric. Her other arm is wrapped around his waist. If Riza were to guess, she imagines the image was only supposed to be a shot of Roy until she slipped into the picture and under his shirt.
For months, this woman has been an enigma with only a nickname. It's one thing to hear stories, to be given little fragments and try to piece together an entire person. Only a nickname and now, a name and half a face. Greta, Riza surmises, stares at her, speaks to her and anyone else who would look at it with body language to corroborate the message she's sending. It strangely transcends the time from when the picture was originally taken.
She is saying, he is mine.
It's a sick fascination for her, studying the way Greta's arm snakes across his chest, catches on the open fabric of his shirt. Logically, Riza knows she's getting upset over something… not insignificant, certainly, but firmly in the past, and delving further into this Pandora's box will not make her feel any better.
All her contemplating eats up her time as his footsteps sound in the hallway and in a panic, she stuffs the picture into her back pocket. The lid of the box is hastily folded back over and she pushes it to the side of his dresser, half obscured by the shadow cast from laundry hamper.
He appears in the doorway just as she shrugs on a sweater. "Hey," he starts, awkwardly hovering. "Look, I'm sorry about earlier in the car. That was dickish of me."
Riza nods. "You're okay. I was dickish too."
Roy's smile is small, but genuine, and he holds his phone up. "What did you want to do for dinner?"
Riza shakes her head. "I think I'll go back to the flat after I eat. 'Becca wanted to give me my present."
His smile falters for a moment, clearly disappointed, but he nods. "Let me know when you want to go. I'll drop off the rental at the same time and enter in final grades."
The trip to her flat is subdued. Roy kisses her forehead in the goodbye, and Riza feels the photograph burn a hole in her back pocket.
When Riza opens the door, the sweet aroma of hot chocolate wafts through the air of her apartment. Rebecca is sitting on the couch, nursing a steaming mug, and is so heavily engrossed in her cellphone she doesn't hear Riza come in. Her footsteps are light as she approaches. She's almost succeeds until her friend realises and jerks in surprise.
"Shit, Ri-" Rebecca's fingers slip against the mug, but manages to get a grip and sets it down quickly. She curls her body to face Riza properly. "You could have killed me," Rebecca admonishes, dramatically placing a hand over her chest. "Is that what you want, a dead best friend?"
Riza grins broadly, feeling a sudden gratitude for her antics, and she leans down to hug her. Rebecca's hair is still faintly damp, curls not quite suffocating her like they usually do, and fragrant. "Sorry," she mumbles, releasing her after a moment. "I did text."
"Did you? I got up like twenty minutes ago," Rebecca explains after letting Riza go. "My day so far has consisted of me standing in the shower for ten minutes and another five remembering I needed to turn the kettle on if I wanted to have coffee."
Riza checks her phone; it wasquarter past four in the afternoon. "Don't forget zoning out so hard an intruder could just walk in. Rough night studying?"
Rebecca shrugs and slides over to make room for Riza on the couch. "You could say that." She says this with a strange quality to her voice, like the question is inherently funny.
Riza deposits her duffle bag on the sturdy coffee table they nabbed from a yard sale, mindful of the still-steaming mug, and sits on the couch. "Was your last exam today?"
"Yesterday," she answers quickly.
Riza scrunches her brow. "Yesterday was Sunday."
She stammers, wrinkling her face to remember, "I meant this morning. I went back to bed after it. Cut me some slack, I've only just woken up."
"Here I thought this was you regularly." Riza ignores the cutting look from her friend. "Did you have to take a lot of them this semester?"
"Yep," she says with a slight pop to the end of her reply. "Not matter how easy exams are, it's always such a relief when they're completely over." Rebecca gets an equally strange smile on her face. "The exams went fine. I wasn't too worried about them. Me and Alyssa and Emma - you've met them before, Hayden's twenty-first - we decided to go hit the town last night to celebrate."
"The night before an exam?" Riza questions as she grabs the mug of hot chocolate, refusing to leave it unattended any longer.
"I was drinking that," Rebecca frowns and Riza evades a swipe from her mid-sip. "And yes, Mother Hawkeye. I think only the med students have anything left now, rest of the campus is in a constant state of partying."
Riza moves the cup out of Rebecca's hands as she reaches for it. "But I thought you swore off partying for exam week. You haven't done it since-"
"Since that first semester as freshman, I know. But it was a special occasion." She presses down at her eyes and rubs them. "I could sleep for another week."
Riza hands the mug back to its original owner. She sighs, relating to her friend's sentiment. "You and me both."
"Mm!" Rebecca protests with hot liquid still in her mouth. "And excuse you, you were off enjoying Central!" She swats playfully at Riza's knee. "Less about me, more about you. How did it go? I was actually dying to message you but I figured I had better let you have your fun."
Riza lets the topic shift. Whatever Rebecca had going on would come out in due course. Besides, her tongue pokes through her teeth as she reminisces. "It was a good time," she begins, unzipping her ankle boots to kick them off. Her arm mirrors Rebecca's as she pushes against the back of the couch, tucking her legs under her. "Had a bit of a crash course in birthday parties."
"There was a birthday party for you?"
Riza laughs. "Hell no. I think Roy might've tried that if he had more time - no, I texted you this, didn't I? We stayed with some friends of his, their daughter had just turned three. I don't think I've ever heard that much screaming before."
"And… ?"
"And what?"
Rebecca gives her an exasperated look. "You wouldn't be looking so smug with yourself over a kids birthday party, novelty or not. I know that expression." She sighs deeply. "Can't believe I got kicked out off the 'best present-giver' throne after seven years."
"And what expression is that 'Becca?" It's difficult to keep her face neutral while remembering the very vivid events of last night.
"That is the face you get when you've been fucked silly. I hope he put in a bit more effort than just whipping his dick out."
"He did," Riza answers, well aware of the blush staining her cheeks. "Bought me an outfit, bought me dinner, apparently visited like three bookshops to find my present… it was literally perfect."
Rebecca makes a grabbing motion with her hand. "You took pics right?"
Riza whips out her phone and starts searching for the location of the photos. "He apparently took some candids while I wasn't looking."
"Oh shit I would have been maaaad." She shakes her head.
"I would have too, but they're actually not that bad." She hands her the phone.
"Holy fuck." Rebecca whistles low, and fans herself dramatically as she inspects the photos closely. "I'm definitely gonna borrow this. Your man has taste. You know I recognize this collection, right? Olivier would have a meltdown if she saw you all dolled up in that." A sly grin grows on her face. "Please tell me you're gonna post this up. She deserves to be put in her place. She's not the only one who can pull off current-season Pronovias."
"The last thing I need is people sticking their noses into business where they don't belong." Riza shakes her head, swiping her phone back. "Not that I'm any better."
"Semester's over now! Are you worried about her coming back to strike?"
"That's not what I mean."
Rebecca tilts her head to the side.
The hastily-stuffed photograph in her back pocket comes to the forefront of her mind's eye, and Riza wonders whether her best friend can offer an unbiased view. She's not used to this; a jealousy for a person that's entirely in the picture. Both figuratively and literally. Especially the kind so fixated on one person, rather than a situation as a whole. She can't tell if it's merely nerves at the fact that she will probably have to meet this woman in the flesh at some point, or if it has unearthed a deep-seated insecurity. "Now that the semester is over, he's invited me to go on a trip with him."
"Go where? Judging by your tone, you're making me thinking he's invited you to a funeral."
"Roy's friends…" she begins, trying to think of the simplest way to explain this, "for reference, they're loaded. Our flat could probably fit in their living room and kitchen alone. Probably as rich as Olivier, to be honest. They're just a lot nicer about it."
Rebecca taps over her mouth as she says, "Go on"
"Roy's friend, Maes - I don't think I've ever met a more devoted father. Family is everything to him… and he likes making grand gestures. They're throwing this big party for their wedding anniversary and Roy wants me to go with him."
"And you think you don't want to go? Why?"
"It's in Aerugo."
Rebecca chokes. "Oh fuck!" she manages, furiously wiping away what spilled onto her chest. The mug is placed back down on the table, and Riza passes over some takeout napkins. "Where in Aerugo?" Rebecca asks after a few frantic moments of trying to save her top.
Riza scratches an itch on her brow. "He said they own the island or something? I wouldn't be surprised. It's called San Clavel or something."
"Oh, Riza." She says with a wagging finger. "You're going on that trip. That's final. Like, he's paying for you, right?"
"He's offered, but I mean-"
"But what? You know that in Aerugo absolutely nobody is gonna recognise you. You two could commit bloody murder there and all of us back home would be none-the-wiser."
"I don't know about that. The problem is that I'd need to reschedule with my father." Riza knows she's using this excuse, but she needs time to prepare for these kinds of visits, just as much as the facility that cares for him needs time to prepare him for her.
As painful as it was with every visit, Riza couldn't cut him out of her life. The father she loved as a little girl might be nothing more than a husk now, but sometimes she'd catch glimpses of the person he used to be.
Rebecca hums sympathetically. "That's rough. I'm sure if you call them up and explain they might be able to rearrange his schedule a little, right?"
"I suppose." Riza doesn't mean to sound as churlish as she does, but Rebecca merely links their fingers together and squeezes comfortingly.
"I think you should. Do you want me to go with you? Maybe if I annoy him enough he'll snap at me just like the old times."
That effervescent, irreverent humour is what she needs right now, though Riza might be loath to admit it. Rebecca's grin is genuine as much as it is teasing.
"No, no," she tells her, slumping to rest against her: Rebecca's arm curls around her and draws meandering patterns through her sweater with manicured nails. "It'll be easier if it's just me. You should be celebrating your freedom."
Rebecca hums in a non committal sort of way, and reaches for an thick envelope on the coffee table and passes it to her - to dearest, darlingest Riza is emblazoned on the front in Rebecca's familiar loopy script. "Happy birthday, Ri," she tells her. "I thought it'd be better if I let you choose rather than me getting you something you didn't like."
She thumbs open the envelope, prying away the glue with care. A gourmet chocolate bar - the kind that Riza knew she'd never bother to buy herself because the price was absurd, and a gift card for the university bookstore. "Thank you 'Becca. Ten thousand cenz though? You spoil me."
Rebecca laughs. "Considering the last book I had to buy for my economics class cost me twelve thousand, I'd be surprised if this even gets you an entire book at all. Maybe I should've invested in a bookcase for you instead. Not that it was ever gonna compare to lover boy though. I can't believe he wants to whisk you off to Aerugo."
She keeps quiet, until Rebecca pinches her.
"Ow! The hell 'Becca!?" Riza sits up clumsily, rubbing at the reddened skin of her neck.
"I get being antsy about your dad. Really, I do. What I don't get it why you seem so mopey about it - location notwithstanding, don't you want to spend more time with him?"
"No - I do-"
"Because this isn't the kind of reaction any guy would want to get. Hell, if you're so on the fence, I'll just don a blonde wig and go in your place. He wouldn't notice, right?"
Riza snorts. "I think he might. I still don't think he's over the little stunt you pulled-"
Rebecca jabs an accusing finger in her face. "There! It is about him! You're telling me you just had a spectacular birthday with the guy but don't know about a trip away?"
Riza bites the bullet, and fishes out the hastily-folded photograph out and passes it to Rebecca. She frowns as she accepts it, the corners of her full lips pursing. "What's this?"
"His ex. His best friend had some old boxes of his. This was in them."
The eyebrows of her friend almost disappear into her hair. "And you went snooping?"
Riza groans. "I didn't mean to! I knocked it over by accident and it all just fell out."
"But… you took this. I assume he doesn't know."
"He doesn't." Her voice is small, and Riza tucks her knees under her chin. "Logically I know I shouldn't care but…"
"But what? Should you be concerned?"
"Maybe? I don't know. She just always seems to be popping up even though they've been broken up for two years."
"Talk me through it. You might be too close to the situation - and don't make that face at me Riza - you can't not be biased against her. You nicked a photo for crying out loud."
"Okay, okay." Riza holds up her hands in acquiescence. It stung having Rebecca - sometimes flighty, occasionally impulsive Rebecca - be more grounded than she clearly was at the moment.
"Roy told me that they'd dated for… seven years. They were engaged too, at one point. Apparently they broke up because he wanted kids and she didn't."
"Yikes."
"Yeah. I didn't expect that either. I don't think it was the only reason they broke up, but it seemed like the biggest one. What makes it more complicated is that she's kind of… related to Gracia, his best friend's wife. But Maes, the best friend, Gracia's husband - I get the impression he doesn't like her. Like, at all. Apparently he was the one who gave her the nickname Axe-"
"Wait, wait wait - the Axe you were telling me about who was drunk texting him?"
Riza nods.
"Disparaging nickname or not… a guy who keeps an ex in his phone like that-" Rebecca sighs deeply, and rolls her shoulders back. "That's generally not a good sign Riza."
"I don't know. I've seen the texts - it's just late night drunkenness."
"So why doesn't he just block her number?" Rebecca takes a long sip of her hot chocolate. "Any way you look at it is pretty damning in my opinion. An ex who won't stop clinging to a relationship that he ended?"
She hates to admit Rebecca has a point.
"Not all affairs are physical, Riza," her friend warns. "Emotional cheating is very much a thing. And considering you guys weren't… a couple from the beginning, it's not a great foundation to build from. A random hookup? I wouldn't give a shit. An ex? That's far murkier territory."
It would be foolish not to admit that the circumstances aren't great, but neither were the ones their relationship originated from. Maybe she's refusing to see the forest for the trees, but Riza finds it difficult to think Roy capable of managing two significant secrets in his personal life not interfering by this point. "Sure, but that wouldn't explain why he had no qualms about introducing me to all his former colleagues at the party. I got the impression that Greta runs - or did run, at least - in similar circles to his. It wouldn't make sense to even want to bring me to Central if that was the case. If she didn't know back then, I bet anything that she knows by now."
Rebecca's face scrunches up, considering. "I guess," she says slowly, "...and I guess none of your relationship is really typical either. Nobody made any comments about it?"
"About us?" Riza throws her mind back to the party, and the people she talked to. Most didn't seem overly interested in her - not to her face, certainly, but she wouldn't be surprised if there wasn't murmurs about the person Roy brought with him. "Most of the interest stemmed from the fact that Roy had lost contact with a lot of them and so they wanted to know how he was getting on. Gracia was the only one to actually bring up Greta in any serious capacity… and she's her cousin or something so maybe she'd heard a different story of how things went down.
"It's weird though; Maes genuinely dislikes her, from what I gathered. But the way Gracia talked made it sound like she was still in contact with her? I don't know." Riza buries her head in her hands. The more she thinks about it, the more she becomes confused.
"Okay, okay." Rebecca sets down her empty mug, and pries Riza's hands away from her head. "In simple terms, you're jealous of a woman who still has some connections in Roy's life. Whether those are through his own actions or not I can't definitively say. What I can say, is that he's invited you to go to Aerugo with him, for - what did you say, a wedding anniversary?"
"Vow renewal."
"Okay, so at the very least he wants to spend more time with you, yeah? And it might be a case of him trying to kill two birds with one stone, but I don't think you should write off the fact that he's actively trying to involve you into the other parts of his life as best he can." Rebecca flips the photo over, and makes a disgusted face at the note she finds. "For when you miss me? Is she anticipating that he'll go back to her? Bleurgh. Clearly he hasn't, if it was stuffed in a box that he forgot about."
Riza rings the psychiatric facility the next morning, and speaks briefly to the doctor in charge of her father's care. The doctor couldn't make any promises that she could fit in a visit earlier than what they had decided on months beforehand, but she promised to at least try. It was all Riza could really ask for.
It isn't until Saturday morning when she finally gets a returning call, the familiar number of the facility emblazoned on her lockscreen.
"Doctor Cassidy," Riza answers after a moment. "How are you?" She desperately wants to know whether her request has been accepted, but she can't bring herself to be completely dismissive of the woman who has ensured the care of her father has been successful. A call on a Saturday, however, is unusual: Riza feels her gut sinking despite her best hopes. It was a lot to ask, in hindsight.
Evelyn Cassidy has been a constant point in Riza's life since the accident, and her familiar, husky voice brings with it a rush of comfort and reassurance that Riza finds herself in surprising want of. "Can't say it's been a great week, Riza - your father certainly gave me a run for my money," she barks a laugh, "But I was able to wrangle your visit nonetheless. He might not be very happy about it, but he has agreed to see you. Might I know why you've changed the date?"
The relief is palpable: Riza feels a line of tension aligning tightly against her spine dissipate into nothing. "I've been invited on a trip that was going to conflict with the visit next month. You know I've never missed an appointment, and… I don't know, this seemed like a better compromise than cancelling."
Doctor Cassidy hums down the phone line. "I'm glad you did call. It's good for Berthold to have some change in his routine, especially when the result is still overwhelmingly positive. It's good for you too, you know."
Riza doesn't know. "What do you mean?"
"You're a good kid Riza, the epitome of a devoted daughter. I'm just saying that it's good that you are putting your own life and commitments first as well. You might have a duty to your father, but he has one to you just as much." Riza hears the shuffling of paper down the line. "I've arranged for you to come in at two-thirty this afternoon. Does that work for you? I know this is last minute, otherwise we can arrange for the following Saturday. He's just in a relatively stable mood as far as I could tell this morning, and your request seemed urgent."
Riza leans back in her chair, craning at her makeshift paper calendar pinned to the bottom of her mirror on instinct. It stares back at her blankly: quite literally so. She's not used to her schedule being so lenient. "Yes, I can make that. Thank you, Doctor."
"Good! Good. Unfortunately I won't be here this afternoon, but the nurses know you're coming. I don't think anybody else has got visits scheduled, so you should have the visiting space to yourself. He'll appreciate that, I'm sure. I'll leave you to it then, Riza - the nurses will let me know how it goes."
Riza utters a quick goodbye, and then stares at the picture on her lockscreen - a view from the guest bedroom, Central gleaming in the afternoon sun like a well-polished gemstone. Their little… spat, she supposes, had left a lingering sour taste that she hadn't felt able to wash away completely yet. It wasn't like they weren't talking to one another, but to Riza at least, she felt like there was a feeling of awkwardness that still clung to her.
However, that wasn't going to stop her seeking him out in spite of that. Her thumbs drift over the touchscreen, and she navigates to his number. If she was going to visit her father this afternoon, she wanted to be in a good mood when she did - one of them needed to be, apparently.
It rings a few times before he picks up. "What's up?" Roy asks, after a moment.
"Nothing much, I - where are you?" There's… music in the background, if she had to hazard a guess, though it's a stretch.
He laughs, the pleasant, deep kind that travels from the speaker and straight into her bones. "I'm at the gym right now. Did you need something, or is this just for pleasure?"
Riza snickers, shaking her head in bemusement. "The latter, actually. I just wondered if you wanted to have lunch. I've got to bug out this afternoon, that's all." She had planned on doing some more work for him - Roy had given her his login key and she was going to spend all afternoon down in the bowels of the library, photocopying and printing off an absurd amount of chemical literature, but that could wait until tomorrow morning instead.
"Yeah? I could manage that. Do you want me to pick something up?"
"If you wouldn't mind. Whatever you feel like, I'm not too hungry."
"Okay, I shouldn't be too much longer," he answers her after a slight pause. "Just let yourself in if I don't beat you back home."
Roy is in the kitchen freshly showered when he hears his front door open, debating whether another cup of coffee is a good idea when it's only lunchtime. A large part of his morning had been spent pouring over the notes Elric had ever-so-helpfully scrawled in the margins of his new paper on organic compounds. The guy might be a real pain in the ass to work with - even distantly - but Roy couldn't deny that his critiques didn't have merit. The other part had been spent at the gym, which was the healthier way to work off some steam instead of lighting up.
He wouldn't consider himself a chain smoker, more social than anything, but he's struggling to remember the last time he had actually smoked. He had come across a half-used pack of Parliament's while searching for some shorts, and the thought had given him pause. Maes had always been banging on to him about quitting - he had to help be a role model to Elicia, after all - but it was hard to give up after all these years… slight nicotine addiction notwithstanding.
Perhaps it was foolish to be looking for meaning where there might not be any, but Roy was sure that she had something to do with it. She had never made any opinions known about this habit, but there always was a lingering feeling of guilt regardless.
He's pleasantly surprised when he feels her arms slip around his torso, pressing her head against the expanse of her back. "Hello," he greets her lightly, reaching for the cupboard with the mugs. "Can I interest you in some coffee?"
He feels her shake her head slightly, feels the heavy exhale she lets go that heaves her shoulders up and down. "No, thank you."
Roy is quiet as he sets up the machine, only turning in her arms once his espresso is done. His fingers hover over her fringe, delicately pushing it out of her eyes. "Que tienes?" The food he had picked up from the bistro lies forgotten next to the stove, still steaming through the paper bag. This is more important right now - and, he realises, could account for her funky mood earlier this week.
"I'm okay," she tells him, though he doubts that is accurate. "The clinic finally called back yesterday and said this afternoon would be the best time to visit Father. Apparently he hasn't been doing so well recently."
His arms wrap around her firmly and he presses his lips to her hair. "I'm sorry to hear that. Perhaps your visit will be a good influence." The information she's given freely about her father is scant, but Roy knows that this is quite possibly the only topic that she'll never truly feel comfortable talking about, no matter how many years pass. He empathises with her deeply - while now he's come to terms with the ways in which he was treated in foster care, he had the privilege of coming out the other side with not only his blood family, but all of his adopted siblings too. He has had years to build up relationships again, to learn how to trust freely once more.
Riza is not so lucky in that regard. He sees a lot of himself in her behaviour, in how she processes these things. Grief, and the process of grieving, is not as clear-cut and linear as people posit: and for hurts that go as deeply as theirs do… it's never easy.
Riza makes a strange little snort, and sighs deeply once more. "I don't think that'll ever happen," she says, her voice muffled a little by the way she rests her head against his chest. "It's always the same with him… silence, and maybe a nod if he's feeling up to it. Some days I wonder why I even bother."
She sounds so jaded, and it cuts deeply that there isn't really anything he can do to help her. Unless -
The epiphany dawns over him slowly. "Would... would you like me to go with you?"
Riza blinks and pulls back to look at him properly. "What?"
"You said so yourself - these visits aren't nice for you. They're stressful - and I see that Riza, hell, I experienced it firsthand." He feels his lips quirk upwards at the memory. "I know they're important for you, but I don't want you feeling like you're having to… I don't know, get them over with? In order to come to Aerugo with me. The last thing I want is for you to feel like you've gone about this the wrong way."
Riza takes a step back, arms unconsciously curling around herself. "Why would you come?"
"Moral, emotional support. Unless you don't want me there." He keeps his tone light, like they are discussing the weather, not an incredibly private part of her life. He knows she can't have a fuss made of this, or she'll clam up. This behaviour alone - it's worrying. There is a difference between debelibrately prying and poking at issues that should be left well alone, and then there's purposeful pushing away.
She told him mere months ago that it was just easier to keep people at arms length than admit any kind of sentiment, that she had learned long ago from the actions of others that her feelings were inconsequential in the bigger picture. It runs deep in her, and Roy thinks his heart might break at the walls she's rapidly putting up, even to him.
"I don't-" she stops, frowning. "No, I-" she exhales harshly, and presses her lips together firmly. "These visits… they're not nice, Roy. Really. I wouldn't wish them on anyone."
"And I don't want them wished on you." He steps towards her, fingers sliding under her chin to examine her closely. At this distance he can see flecks of gold in her warm, brown eyes. She is so, so brave. "Not alone, certainly."
Her eyes widen, her lips part, and she looks like she might cry. Riza's gaze lowers from his, but Roy keeps quiet, fingers steady on her jawbone. If she moves away, he won't stop her from doing so.
She speaks up after a few minutes of unsettling silence. "Do you want to meet my father?"
"Yes," he tells her honestly. "But it's not a demand. If you're not comfortable with it now, then we can table it for later. I'd like to at some point, though."
Riza chews on her lower lip thoughtfully. "And if I said I wanted to meet your foster mother?"
Roy snickers, leaning down to kiss her forehead. Every reaction has an equal and opposite reaction. "Then I would organise that. Not before preparing you for the Spanish Inquisition that will undoubtedly happen."
Her eyebrow raises disbelievingly. "I doubt I'm that interesting."
He turns to his espresso on the counter and takes a careful sip. "I beg to differ, avecilla. Besides, it wouldn't just be my mother you'd be meeting. My sisters will want to meet you as well." All fourteen of them goes unsaid, but Roy can only imagine the chaos of that environment.
"Do they know about me?"
Ah - the million cenz question. "Yes," he answers truthfully. "They know you exist. Remember the phone call I got when we got back?"
Riza nods, her eyebrows creasing together. "Your mother wasn't happy with you, if I'm remembering right." She seems to hold herself tenser here, but he dismisses it.
"Yes, well… she had found out I had been back in Central and I hadn't visited her, so that was strike number one. But word got to Vanessa that you had joined me as well, and I was told in no uncertain terms that if I didn't bring you around immediately I would be disowned." Well, that was the sanitised version. The actual words that were spoken were a lot more intimidating and involved all sorts of colourful threats directed at his person - the irony of the situation wasn't lost on Roy. Of course he wanted to introduce them all to Riza: he merely wanted to make sure she'd survive the encounter as well.
"They must care about you a lot." He doesn't miss the wistfulness in her voice, however hard she tries to bury it.
Perhaps it is a bit presumptuous of him to be thinking this far ahead, but given time, he could see her becoming close with his sisters. Not all of them, but the quieter ones; Roy thinks she would find in them kindred spirits. He has no doubts that she will be welcomed with open arms, treated as one of their own - but it's more a matter if Riza would let herself be… well, adopted in such a manner.
His foster mother is another issue to navigate entirely, and deep down Roy knows no amount of coaching on what to expect will actually prepare Riza for the formidable woman that is Christina Mustang. He's been careful in what he's fed to her; enough to keep her placated, not to dig too much - because god knows what his mother would do if she found out the exact circumstances in which they met - but even still, he finds her intimidating, after all these years.
Maybe it's selfish of him to ask this of her so suddenly, to meet her father who won't have the capacity to respond in any meaningful way. But he needs to know the truth of her situation, and Riza has been very good about deflecting the issue. He understands that it's difficult to talk about, especially considering the way in which she had to become an adult… but if he's being honest with himself, he also wants to meet the man that by all appearances treated his daughter as an afterthought. The two of them might have plenty of parent issues between them, but Roy knows that she's still coming to terms with her own.
Besides, Chris didn't raise him to be disrespectful. The man deserved to meet him, even if he wasn't able to give them much of an opinion or even his blessing.
"They mean well. Perhaps we could drop in for a visit on the way back from Aerugo - bringing them some food back from there would go over well." It's not a bad plan, when he actually thinks about it: Cecelia was due literally any day now, and she would be more than willing to run a little interference for him when they visited. Having a new grandchild present as well as Riza would keep his mother from focusing too much on either of them - meaning the visit would be less likely to end with Riza swearing off his family forever. It's a little strange for him to recognise that he is somewhat nervous for her to meet them, but then again, it's been years since he's brought someone home at all.
Riza nods thoughtfully. "I guess that would be… fair." She rubs at her eyes roughly. "If you're gonna come with me then you'll need a sweater or something long-sleeved. The softer the better."
"Dare I ask why?"
A bitter smile grows on Riza's face. "Normally he's fine, but when I was first visiting he'd have… outbursts I guess. Scratching, tearing at his hair… they said it was because it was a new environment, and I was a new face for him after so many months in hospital. He might not even acknowledge us."
The place is bleak, and Roy has spent a significant part of his childhood in interview rooms waiting for overloaded social workers to remember they had an appointment with his fosterers. There's an overwhelming feeling of forgottenness here, from the peeling paint on the edifice, to the way the weeds grow in the cracks of the path to the front door. The inside is only marginally better - twenty or even thirty years ago, Roy would have agreed that this hospice was state-of-the-art.
Now it just feels horribly dated, a relic of the past that had been left behind.
Riza approaches the front desk, and speaks in low tones with the woman there. He's staring at a painted mural that has definitely seen better days when she calls him over.
"Write your name here -" she tells him, indicating to a sheet of large white label stickers, "- and then she'll go over the rules."
The list of rules the nurse explains is exhaustive. No raised voices. No sudden or surprise touch. No electrical equipment. Nails to be filed down. No belts, rings - earrings - he realises her ever-present pearls are missing as she hands over her hair clip. The reality of this situation is even more harrowing than he could've imagined. Roy briefly debates writing in a pseudonym on his name tag, but considering he had to hand over his wallet, it wouldn't have made much difference anyway.
"We were surprised to hear from you again," the nurse tells Riza as they turn down another long corridor. "Quite so soon, certainly. I think Berthold will like it."
Riza makes an discontented noise. "Doctor Cassidy told me he hadn't been well when I spoke to her on the phone this morning. I don't think this visit will be very long."
They pass through the metal detector and the nurse - Gladys, Roy gleans from the embroidered section of her uniform, shrugs. "Even if it is, it's still a good thing Riza. I know your father likes his routine but Evelyn did believe that this… disruption would be worth the momentary tantrums. Healing isn't always so linear." She guides them through another shorter hallway, and slides the door open to the visiting room. "Fabian will be here to take you back when you want to leave."
Riza nods and thanks her, before squeezing his hand tightly. "Ready?" she asks him.
Roy nods. "Of course."
The visiting room is a sparse affair, but it strikes Roy just how normal it looks. That is, until his eyes are drawn to the way furniture is bolted to the ground, to the heavy grate across the unlit fireplace, to the way the windows are barred and reinforced. The security measure reminds him of one of the rougher foster homes he was placed in while awaiting long-term fostering.
Riza gives him little time to get his bearings, instead pulling him over to a man sitting in a plush armchair near the fireplace.
"Roy, this is my father, Berthold Hawkeye," Riza says, uncharacteristically chipper, like a customer service employee. Forced smiles and high pitched. She kneels down in front of the man and Roy takes a seat in the chair opposite. "Papa, I've been told you're not happy that I rescheduled," she continues carefully, like this quiet, catatonic man will maul her at any given moment. "But I've brought someone that I'd like you to meet. He's a chemist, like you." The man moves his head subtly. Riza glances at him apprehensively, but only for a moment. Her voice certainly doesn't betray her. "And... also, my boyfriend."
Slowly, Berthold looks up, and a brief smile appears on Riza's face. "I had hoped that'd get your attention. This is-"
Roy put his hand up to stop her and he moves to the edge of his seat, nearly off the cushion it as he inches closer. He extends his hand out to her father for a handshake. It stays there, suspended in the air as Berthold's blue eyes look at them listlessly, then to Riza and then to Roy, before he just as slowly takes the offer on the handshake. He can hear Riza's breath shudder in relief.
"My name is Roy Mustang and it's a pleasure to meet you... sir."
Later that evening, they lie over his sheets in a pensive, post-coital stupor. Both of them naked from the heat that's beginning to settle over East City; late spring giving way to early summer. It's been five minutes since either of them has said anything. He's on his side, head propped up by his hands. She's lying on her stomach, face turned away from but he knows she's not asleep from the way she's breathing. At the moment, Roy is silent to simply be there for her, to let her process. She was in a peculiar mood following the visit with her father; an in-between of being glad that it went well and confusion. Even if she doesn't wear her emotions like he does, he would be remiss if he didn't suspect this required a substantial amount of emotional energy.
He also notices that she doesn't flinch when he traces over the texture of her scars.
Berthold Hawkeye was quiet throughout his daughter's abridged version of their relationship. This version of the story focused heavily on her job as his assistant and he didn't fault her for it. Occasionally Berthold had nodded, but largely his head was turned away from the two of them, seemingly transfixed on his left hand, fingers flexing and relaxing every so often.
All the way through her retelling, he had been keenly aware of her bravado. She was so tense next to him, even more so than when Maes was grilling them. Who the act was for, he wasn't sure: for her father, for him? For herself? In the end, he supposes it was a mix of them all.
Finally, as if reading his mind, Riza says, "I haven't seen him respond like that in a-" she breathes in, her back just barely cresting to touch the moonlight and then back down into the shadows "-long, long time."
Her father only given them simple responses, grunts, and nods; very rudimentary social gestures. He feels for her dearly if that had been a vast improvement. "How long?" he asks simply.
"Years."
Roy breathes out slowly and nears to kiss her bare shoulder. "I'm sorry that's something you had to deal with on your own."
Her shoulder blades move in a shrug under his fingertips. "It is what it is," she says softly.
From the way she's still looking away from him, into the shadows of his room, he suspects she's crying or trying really hard not to. He admires her for her fortitude. It must have taken years and years to build up that shell of hers, to keep what she feels hidden from plain sight. Roy remains silent, letting her talk through this.
"My mother, she passed when I was a baby. Growing up, I had a theory that he wasn't always so distant like he was; that when my mother died, a part of him died with her. I can't even resent him for that. And then, the accident… that was just the straw that broke the camel's back.
"He spent day after day locked in his study whenever I was home, for years. It was his life's work and to this day, I still don't know what he was trying to do. I was simply too young to understand and even if I did, I don't think he would have let me in.
"He was very traditionalist. Everything on paper. Nothing electronic. That way he knows it's real, he'd say. Then something went wrong, some problem that had been giving him grief for weeks on end. He was always frustrated, muttering, banging the walls - he'd been in his study longer than ever, not coming down for meals, and leaving the food I'd bring him to get cold. I shouldn't have been in there, in his lab. I was only bringing him some tea when he miscalculated and set off something incendiary. All of his research burned the day I got those scars." She sighs. "He has some too, but not as severe."
He lacks the words to appropriately respond. She's unloading a childhood trauma that he knew was severe, but she's dishing it out so nonchalantly, like it was just another story.
"Did you know I only majored in Chemistry for him?" She sniffles so quietly he almost misses it and his fingers stop.
"To have something to bring up to him for these visits. To engage with him in conversation he's historically responded to. It would work at first, when I started getting past the general education requirements and then his reactions started to dwindle down again. I had thought I was just going to have to be patient until I got further and further. Career-wise, it wasn't a bad decision either.
"In the end, it got me to you." Her head turns to him with her eyes are bright and her mouth smiling. "And today, you helped showed me he's not all the way gone."
"I'm glad I can talk nerdy with your dad then."
"It was good for him. Or at least, there's some hope that it was."
"Of course." He kisses her forehead. "And since we're exchanging war stories…"
"Is that what we're doing?" she teases.
"Sure," he smiles back. "It's actually very similar to yours. But you have to promise me you can keep it a secret."
She looks at him from her pillow, and purses her lips. "I believe I kept one all semester. I'd say my record is pretty good so far."
"I have to cover my bases," he says with a laugh. "My team in Research and Development were tasked with creating a very specific type of wearable weapons. The simplest explanation for the prototype would be… pyrotechnic gloves, I guess. The idea was that it would be able to pass by unscrutinised by anybody looking closer, so it could be smuggled in by spies and double agents to use at close range. The eventual goal was to be able to make a movement as innocuous as a snap of the fingers, and you'd be able to make a sizable explosion from the resulting fire."
"This is what you got your doctorate for?"
"Well, hold on a minute, let me finish," he says defensively. "You don't have to tell me that what I was doing was morally wrong. It was something I thought about nearly every day. The military doesn't create this to warm the beds of children, trust me I know. But like your father, it was my work, I had a team and because of what I was doing I was providing a livelihood for others. Or at least, that's what I was telling myself.
"I was sleep-deprived and stressed and on a deadline. It felt like the walls were closing in on every front. I slipped up. Maybe it was a decimal point in the wrong place, or something else that I should've picked up on. The explosion knocked me back, but I had been impaled by - I don't even know what it was with all burning debris falling on me. I came to a day later to discover that one of my team had died in that fire. An Ishvallan scientist, eager and as willing to learn as I had been. I was in the hospital for weeks, thinking the worst of myself, and Greta…" he swallows down the hard lump in his throat. "She was only making it worse. As far as she was concerned it wasn't that big of a deal, that it didn't matter that Heathcliff died because of me. I should've ended it there."
"You didn't?"
"No. I didn't. It was a confusing time and I didn't give myself time to think straight." He sighs. "I realize now that how she was treating me during my convalesce, treating our relationship. It was never going to be sustainable, not the way we were heading. We were young, immature, and didn't know how to communicate honestly with one another. Mix in a near-death experience and I know exactly why we stayed together."
"How long ago was this?"
"I believe I was twenty-five, if not closer to twenty-six. Almost four years ago"
She doesn't regard with pity, but understanding when she places a hand on his arm for physical comfort. It was a different and new kind of response. "I suppose I should be grateful for your change in career," she says after a moment. "Worst injury I need to worry about you getting is a papercut."
"The hours are a lot more lenient too. There's never a complaint if I cancel class. But there's still that missing element. I wonder from time to time what would have happened if I had been more vocal about the research I did for the military. The University is great but..." He trails off.
"But it's not enough, I understand. And there's only so much you can do with grants."
He smiles somberly. "Exactly."
Riza looks at him for a while. It's a rare thing to see her so peaceful while she's awake, no underlying tension present in her expression. "Maybe Aerugo would help clearing our minds."
He lifts his head, to look at her face. "Are you saying you'll go with me?"
She nods her head against the pillow and takes a deep breath, like she's preparing herself. "I do have something to confess, though. That box that Maes gave to you before we left - when you were on the phone the other day, I accidentally knocked it over. And I found a picture, of a younger you. And Greta."
Ordinarily he'd expect himself to be more uneasy at the revelation, but perhaps her candid honesty - so quickly after the fact - keeps him composed. "Did you? I'm surprised. When we separated, I left all the photos with her."
"I only bring this up, because I'm curious: do you think she'll be there?" She sounds so calm, but Roy would be a fool not to know that there is a thread of concern woven within her words.
Greta is a fleeting creature, letting whims and tempers make her decisions. Roy can't possibly know for sure and yet he still answers, "No."