May 22
"I woke up this morning and realized something. Several days have gone by since the last time I saw or spoke to Miss Hawkeye, and I've honestly been too busy to even notice. I don't know whether I should be glad that I'm not dwelling on circumstances outside my control, or worried that I'm starting to turn into a real recluse like sensei…"
One afternoon, Roy had even looked up from his page to find a fresh cup of tea sitting in front of him, with no recollection of how it had gotten there. He'd made a surprised little noise in his throat, thinking of how often he'd seen Hawkeye-sensei do the same thing and marveled at the older man's lack of awareness. Upon reaching for the steaming cup, he'd caught his teacher's eye, which had been sparkling with amusement. The older man's lips had curved upward into a strange little smile, and he'd shaken his head slightly, as if to say: "I know; she does it to me all the time." But before Roy had been able to comment, Berthold had neatly caught the book out of his hands and proceeded to quiz him on his comprehension of the material. Which he was still struggling with, unfortunately.
In spite of all the rumors of Master Hawkeye being such a tyrannical and impossible-to-please taskmaster, Roy found him to be an extremely patient and encouraging instructor. Berthold explained and re-explained the more difficult concepts, referred Roy to books and passages of books that would help him, and pushed him to delve deeper into the theories and foundations of the science rather than just learning formulas and sigils by rote without understanding them.
"Comprehension, not memorization. That is vital," he often said. And when Roy failed to solve an equation, or came up with the wrong solution for one of his tasks, Berthold did not storm or rage or glower. He didn't even seem very disappointed. He simply nodded solemnly, gave him another assignment that was similar but not identical, and told Roy to try again.
Certain days were more taxing than others, and Roy left his teacher's study feeling like his head would explode from sheer frustration. On these days, he often sought solace in physical activity. At first, it had just been long, brisk walks around the estate or into the forest along the northern boundary of the Hawkeye property. Stomping over the fallen twigs and branches there had given him another idea, and with his teacher's permission he'd taken to splitting logs into firewood to work off his irritation. Roy was having a hard time picturing either Berthold or Riza out here doing this sort of thing—it was hot, dirty, sweaty work. He was fairly certain that his sensei just used some sort of alchemic reaction to break up the huge chunks of wood normally, unless he simply bartered with his neighbors for their help. Either way, there were plenty of raw materials to work with—large cylindrical sections of soft, fragrant pine and more dense rounds of oak lay in haphazard piles behind the barn.
Roy spent hours splitting the large round sections into manageable pieces, and then stacking cords neatly against the barn, finding that his annoyance and frustration drained away as the sweat poured off his body and the blisters sprang up on his tender hands. The monotony of swinging the axe again and again quieted his racing mind, at least temporarily. He also found that having stiff, aching muscles led to deeper and more restful sleep, rather than hours spent staring at the ceiling and trying desperately not to go over the material in his head while feeling like a hopeless failure for not having mastered it already.
Today had been one of the most difficult days yet, but for some reason chopping and stacking wood was not having its usual calming effect. Deep down, Roy knew that working out his exasperation on the wood, while satisfying, was not doing him any real good. Ignoring his difficulties would not make them vanish, and indulging in his feelings of inadequacy and self-loathing would not lead to an epiphany.
Chris had been absolutely correct when she'd said that Roy had never really wanted something badly enough to really give it his all before. He'd always been a bright kid, and things had come almost too easily to him—he had only to try and he succeeded. Now, for the first time in his life, he was actually being challenged. And finding it—well, challenging. He was learning what it felt like to really work at something: to follow after his dream until his legs could no longer carry him onward; to dig for it with his own two hands until they bled; to run after it until he had no air left in his lungs. And after all of that—to want it still and keep striving after it.
Roy was only just beginning to feel that alchemy was that dream for him, even if he didn't yet know how far he was willing to go. Hitting a roadblock so early on was extremely discouraging. And Roy's usual cheerful spirit floundered in the face of such an impediment.
But the equation wouldn't solve itself, and he had wasted enough time for one day. So at last, Roy mopped his streaming face on his shirt and headed back.
Though he hadn't been looking for her, exactly, Roy was pleased when he staggered wearily around the corner of the barn and spotted Miss Riza standing outside near her garden beds. She was…was she throwing something on the ground? Seeds, maybe? No, something bigger, less uniformly shaped. Oh! They were bread crumbs, he realized. She was scattering stale, crumbled bread on the bare earth, and dozens of tiny birds, mostly of the sparrow and finch variety, were fluttering and hopping about her feet. She seemed to be laughing. And… yes, he was sure of it—she was talking to the little birds; he could see her lips moving. But he was still too far away to hear anything other than an indistinct murmur punctuated with soft, girlish laughter.
Well. If that wasn't sufficient inducement to procrastinate a little longer, then he didn't know what was.
She spotted him as soon as he started moving in her direction, but she stood her ground. Brushing the last of the crumbs from her hands and shaking her now-empty apron for good measure, she smiled one last time at her feathered companions before raising her eyes to meet Roy's.
"Good afternoon, Mr. Mustang," she said softly.
"Hey, Miss Hawkeye," he replied in a somewhat subdued tone. She raised her eyebrows, but didn't comment at his unusually melancholic behavior.
"Chopping wood, again?" she asked instead. Roy nodded and stretched his overtaxed arms over his head, wincing a little.
"You'll have enough to last a decade, if I keep this up," he said, with a self-deprecating chuckle. "I don't suppose you have any chores out here you need a hand with?"
"Can't bear to be indoors on a day like this, Mr. Mustang?" she asked with the faintest trace of amusement.
"No…well, yes, but it's more that I'm trying to avoid having to think about alchemy for a little while," he grumbled. Riza's expression softened a little in understanding.
"I have some weeding to do, in the vegetable beds. I wouldn't mind an extra pair of hands, if you wanted something else to do," she offered.
"Perfect!" he answered, in an almost cheerful voice.
As Roy was in no mood to chat, and Riza was her usual reticent self, there was very little conversation between them as they worked, except for things like: "Just place them in a pile, over there," or "Here's an extra pair of gloves for you," or "Not that one! That's a carrot!"
After an hour or so of this, Roy was dirtier and more exhausted than ever, but Miss Riza's vegetable and herb beds were weed-free. He could feel her eyes on him as he stooped to gather the pile of weeds they'd collected, but she only brushed the loose earth off of her gardening gloves and quietly thanked him for his help.
Riza glided away to prepare dinner, while Roy trudged upstairs to clean up. When he returned to the kitchen, he saw with surprise and delight that she'd set a place for herself across from his usual spot at the table. She excused herself only long enough to deliver her father's portion to his room, and then they sat down to their evening meal together for the first time.
"By the way, I wanted to apologize for ignoring you, the other day," Roy said, cheered somewhat by his hot shower and the heavily laden plate that Miss Riza had just set in front of him.
"Hm?" she said, absently, sparing him a glance while she filled her own plate.
"A few days ago, in the study," he clarified. "You brought me tea, and I didn't even realize until after you were gone. And thanks for that, too, I really needed it."
"Oh. You're welcome," she said, tilting her head very slightly to one side. "You seemed pretty engrossed in the material."
"Yeah, I've gotten to a rough part," he admitted, rather sheepishly. "Organic chemistry does not come naturally to me, apparently."
"You've started that already?" she asked, sounding surprised.
"Yeah, about two weeks ago," he mumbled, stabbing a piece of chicken viciously with his fork.
"You're doing well, then," Riza answered. Roy swallowed hastily to keep from spitting his mouthful of chicken and vegetables across the table.
"I—what?" he exclaimed. Doing well? How did she figure?
"You must be doing well, or else Father wouldn't have started such an advanced topic," Miss Riza said matter-of-factly. Roy just stared at her in amazement.
"Really?" he asked incredulously.
"Mm-hm. Most of the others don't get so far in twice the time that you've been here," Miss Riza said, calmly sipping her drink. And if anyone could understand Berthold's teaching methods, it would be Miss Riza, Roy supposed.
"Huh," he managed to say. For several minutes, the two children ate in near silence as Roy mulled this idea over in his head. When she put it like that…he was being rather an idiot about all this, wasn't he? Finally Roy snorted softly and shook his head, setting his utensils down on his empty plate. "I guess I should stop feeling so sorry for myself, huh?"
Riza didn't reply, but waited patiently for Roy to explain himself.
"I…I've rather forgotten, these past couple of days, just how lucky I am. I mean, not everyone has the kind of opportunity I've got, and here I am whining because I haven't mastered something in days that takes most people months or even years to learn…I've been feeling a little sorry for myself," Roy confessed.
Miss Riza didn't say that she'd noticed, but Roy knew that she had by the way her eyebrows and lips twitched.
"Instead of moping around, I should be trying harder," he continued, addressing his words to his empty plate while he twisted his napkin in his lap. "I should be making more of an effort to ensure I don't disappoint sensei and not pouting because I can't just breeze through everything he has to teach me," he finished more softly. Looking up at last, Roy saw that Miss Riza was watching him with steady interest.
"He wouldn't have bothered, if he didn't know you were capable of learning it," was her reply. And then she looked away quickly, as though afraid to reveal anything more. Roy hated that she looked nervous. Why should she be nervous? How could he be annoyed or bothered by her words when she was complimenting him, anyway? But that was an issue for another day. She was trying to reassure him, and it was working.
He wanted to reach out and squeeze her hand affectionately, as though she was one of his "sisters," but he refrained. Instead, he cleared his throat and waited until her serious eyes flicked back to his.
"Thanks," he said softly, with a sincere and warm smile. "I think I've mostly got it out of my system now."
Miss Riza just smiled at him in return, before rising to collect the dishes from the table.
As a matter of fact, Roy did not get any more of his work done that night. He did, however, fall asleep with a smile on his lips and renewed determination in his heart.
A.N. This was going to be a much fluffier chapter about Roy seeing how Riza acts when she thinks she's alone, but then Roy went and had an existential crisis on me...so this happened. And this is now officially the longest story I have ever submitted! Thank you all again for your support and encouragement-I would not have made it this far without it!
xoxo Janie