Entry: October 25th – November 3rd
October 25
"Dear Aunt Chris, Ada, Juliet, Sophie, Elinor, Veronica, Claire, Lucy and Violet,
I know how concerned you've all been about my recent illness, and I appreciate that more than you know. However, I can assure you that Miss Riza and her father have been taking excellent care of me. Please don't worry; I really and truly am doing much better now. The fever broke two days ago, and the cough is nearly gone as well.
I do still feel a tiny bit weak, but the doctor says that's only because I've been confined to my room for these past few days. He also told me that I can re-start my lessons again tomorrow, so long as I take it slow. According to him, I'm as bad as Miss Riza—we're both restless when we're ailing, and share a 'passionate and foolhardy desire to return to normal levels of activity far more quickly than physically advisable.' Of course, according to Miss Riza, Dr. James is far too cautious of her health and has a tendency to coddle, whether she's recovering from a simple cold or an accidental ankle sprain or a not-so-accidental fractured wrist. In spite of saying all that, though, she immediately took his side in regards to MY well-being, and threatened to withhold chicken soup when I pointed out the double standard. I wasn't willing to risk going soup-less, so I gave up the argument. (Don't judge me until you've tried her soup for yourselves.)
Anyway, what I'm trying to say is that the fact the doc finally gave me his blessing to get back to my studies is proof of my near total recovery. The only downside is that now I'll have to take that darn code-breaking exam Hawkeye-sensei has been preparing. With my luck, he's used this extra time to make it even more difficult!"
October 27
"I was right. The code-breaking exam was an absolute nightmare. I couldn't even use my illness as an excuse for my spectacular failure: since I was confined to my room for the duration, I spent almost every waking moment reading and reviewing my notes on the material. Hawkeye-sensei didn't seem all that upset about my poor performance, though, which makes me think he intended me to fail to prove some sort of point. We'll meet again this afternoon to discuss it, so hopefully I'll find out more then.
On another note, I am feeling as good as new now, no more coughing and no lingering headaches. I'm very sorry to have worried you all, but I promise that I'm all better now, and I really will try to write you all more often."
October 30
"So it turns out that last week's exam was a test—well, a different sort of test than the usual, I mean. Hawkeye-sensei gave me a near-impossible code designed to make me fail. He says he did it because he needed to see how I handled disappointment and failure, as these can be near constant companions of a man who spends his life seeking the truth—something about how there will be many stumbling blocks along the path of a true scholar, and how one must learn how to overcome them and keep moving forward if he is to become a true proficient in the art of alchemy.
After he explained all of that, he smiled at me, a real smile, and told me I'd shown exactly the kind of determination and drive he'd hoped to see in me. It might not sound like high praise to you girls, but from Hawkeye-sensei it is worth more than the most flowery, flattering speech you could possibly imagine—it would make more sense if you knew him. Oh, and he gave me the real exam this morning, which was absurdly easy in comparison to the first fake one, and I did really well! Hawkeye-sensei says I should start working on my own code so that one day I can encrypt my own notes and findings to prevent others from stealing my work."
November 3
"It's almost harvest time out here in the country, and there's going to be a big festival in town to celebrate in a few weeks. There will be booths set up with food and drinks, and music, and dancing, and a big bonfire at the end of the night, and I think the little kids are planning to perform a skit or a song of some sort. Everyone in town will contribute something, whether it's preparing the mountains of food or manning the food stalls in shifts, or building the booths and the grandstand beforehand. Hawkeye-sensei is giving me a whole week off, since he has some work of his own to do at the moment, so I'm going to head into town tomorrow morning to see if I can do anything to help out for the festival. I heard from the postmistress Mrs. White that Master Hawkeye and Miss Riza haven't attended the festival for a few years now: ever since Mrs. Hawkeye passed. I'm hoping to convince Miss Riza to come along this year. Wish me luck!"
Roy sighed and put down his pen, flexing his stiff fingers. He hadn't noticed that he'd been slacking in the letter -writing department until he'd gotten sick, but ever since the girls had pointed it out, he'd been trying to make up for it.
Three weeks ago, Master Hawkeye had sent a brief missive to Chris to let her know about Roy's illness and assure her that her nephew was being given the best medical care available. Almost immediately, Roy had been inundated with a series of increasingly panicked letters from his sisters, demanding to know why he hadn't written himself and threatening to send Sophie or Veronica to play sick nurse if he didn't write them at once to tell them exactly what was going on.
He'd staggered out of bed and to his writing desk before he'd even finished reading them, horrified lest they make good on that threat.
Although Roy wouldn't really have minded the extra fussing as much as he pretended, he wasn't so sure he wanted to expose Miss Riza to the teasing and insinuation that the girls would've employed if ever given the chance to meet her in person. He hadn't dared tell them about half of the things she'd done for him while he'd been ill, not wanting to receive another mortifying letter filled with advice on kissing and seduction and—horror of horrors, tips on asking a woman's father for her hand in marriage without getting immolated for his trouble.
Roy blushed, remembering how he'd burned that letter as soon as he could, for fear Miss Riza should stumble across it accidentally.
Although he still missed them very much, Riza had proven herself an excellent caregiver and a more-than-adequate substitute for Roy's doting sisters. Not only had she seen to his medication and his meals (which ranged from fortifying soups, stews, and porridges to refreshing fruit, honey and ice concoctions that soothed his sore throat), but she'd also made a point of keeping him entertained. At least, whenever she wasn't nagging him to rest and build up his strength. Roy had never mentioned the unique brand of coddling that he usually received from his sisters when confined to a sickroom, and yet Riza had seemed to know that he'd need lots of distractions to keep him from going stir-crazy.
And so she'd brought back tidbits of gossip from town after her marketing, shyly showed off her progress with her quilting project, played cards, and even read aloud to him. He'd fallen asleep more than once to her sweet, soothing voice. She always seemed to know at which point exactly he'd stopped hearing the words and started drifting off, because the next time she opened the book, she always started back up at just the right place.
Riza's gentle attentiveness would be care enough for even the most spoiled, pampered prince, Roy thought fondly. She was almost too thoughtful for her own good. Glancing over at the subject of his musings, who had fallen asleep curled up in the armchair opposite, Roy sighed.
They'd both been waiting in the parlor for her father to come back up from the basement laboratory for several hours now. Riza had been trying to read with half of her attention on the door, and Roy had finally given up his half-hearted studying in favor of writing another letter. With a frown, he checked the time. It was far later than he'd realized; no wonder Riza had fallen asleep where she sat.
"Miss Riza," he said softly. "Wake up, Miss Riza."
She didn't stir. He really hated to rouse her, but it was clear that neither of them would have the chance to question Hawkeye-sensei on their respective lessons tonight. If Hawkeye-sensei had gotten caught up in one of his experiments, he might not emerge for another day at least, and there was really no point in trying to get his attention until he was finished. Nor any way to try, really, since Berthold bolted the lab door from the inside. Roy stood up and stretched before crossing to Riza's chair and leaning over her.
"Miss Riza, come on. Time for bed, now," he said, gently shaking her shoulder.
Riza murmured unintelligibly in her sleep and curled herself into a slightly tighter ball, but she still didn't wake. Roy considered his options. He couldn't just take himself off to bed and leave her sleeping all smooshed into the armchair like that; she'd be miserable in the morning. And he didn't want to shake her any more violently than he already had; she was clearly exhausted and needed every bit of rest she could get. If she wasn't more careful, she might end up catching a cold herself, and that was simply unacceptable. Nothing for it, then, he thought. It wouldn't be the first time he'd carried her somewhere, after all, and her bedroom was far closer than the surgery at the far end of town.
Carefully, Roy slid one arm around her shoulders and slipped the other under her knees, cradling her limp body against his chest as he stood. To his surprise, Riza turned her head and buried her face in his neck with a soft sigh. He stood stock-still for a moment, heart racing. Was this wildly inappropriate? If Riza woke now, in his arms like this, would she be upset with him? Embarrassed? Feel taken advantage of, somehow, for being cuddled so intimately against her will?
"I've got to learn to think these things through," he decided, when he remembered how to breathe again. Which was rather an accomplishment on his part, taking into consideration the soft lips brushing the column of his throat oh-so-delicately. Not that he was enjoying the sensation, or anything. Right? Yes. Ahem.
Riza hadn't moved again after nuzzling into his collarbone, and her slow, even breaths were warm on his neck. Roy swallowed thickly, tightened his grip on the sleeping girl, and headed for the door as quickly as he dared.
Although none of the lights were on in the other rooms of the house, Roy knew the Hawkeyes' home almost as well as his aunt's by this time. He had no difficultly navigating the stairs in the darkness. And in spite of his recent illness, Riza wasn't a difficult burden to bear, slender thing that she was, so Roy was up the stairs and nudging open her bedroom door with a toe in less than two minutes.
Riza made a soft noise of protest when he lowered her onto her bed, and Roy couldn't help but smile as she curled into a tight little ball again, already missing the warmth of their shared body heat. He carefully covered her with her fluffy comforter, which she snuggled under in the most adorable way. (Not that Roy paused for just a moment to watch her sleep, or anything. No, of course not. Who would do something like that? Not Roy, that's for sure.)
"Sweet dreams," he whispered, with one last adjustment to her blanket, and then he slipped out of her room as quietly as he'd entered it.
Roy lay awake for a long time afterwards, uneasy for a reason he couldn't quite put his finger on. When his eyes finally drifted shut, the pale light of dawn was already streaming through his window.
A.N. *Warning* Most of this chapter was written under the influence of copious amounts of cold medicine and bourbon (damn you, flu season), so if you see any errors, please feel free to point them out. I actually broke this chapter into two parts, so hopefully the next bit will be up in a day or two rather than three weeks (yikes!) Thanks for your patience, everyone!
xoxo Janie