Farewell

March 17th

"Dear Aunt Chris,

I owe you an apology. I haven't been entirely honest with you these last few weeks. Please don't be angry; I'm quite certain you'll understand once I've explained what's been happening. I suppose I should start from the beginning. By the time you read this letter, I'll already be on my way back home…"

Although the rain had cleared up days ago, it was warm and sunny for the first time in weeks, and Roy was determined to spend the entire day outdoors. He took his time wandering through the woods, cheered by the bright yellow-green of budding leaves and new grass. The early spring flowers were running rampant as well: white wood anemones, pale blue crocuses, and golden yellow celandines.

Everything smelled lush and fresh and green, and Roy breathed deeply as he wound his way farther along the path. When he came to his favorite clearing, he flopped down in a soft patch of young grass to bask in the warm spring sun while he watched clouds drifting by overhead. He let his mind wander, daydreaming about innocuous things rather than dwelling on the difficult topics that he'd been living with for the past several weeks: death and loss and fear of what the future might hold. He dozed a bit as a gentle breeze ruffled his hair, and awoke feeling refreshed and at peace.

True to his intentions, Roy wiled away most of the day wandering about in the woods and out near the lake before he reluctantly turned his steps homeward. As he left the shelter of the trees, Roy noticed a small patch of early daffodils growing along one side of the path. Smiling, he plucked a handful, thinking that they'd brighten up the windowsill in the kitchen. He'd always thought of them as a cheerful sort of flower. At least, something about the sight of them had always made him feel a little bit happier. And just maybe they'd bring a smile to Riza's face.

Following the tantalizing aroma of cooked meat and spices, Roy was unsurprised to find Riza in the kitchen. She was up to her elbows in soap suds at the sink, vigorously scrubbing at her good meat cleaver. Judging from the pots and pans stacked on the drying rack, and from the heavenly smell throughout the house, she'd apparently been making her amazing chicken and dumplings.

"Need a hand?" he called out, eyeing the pot simmering on the stove and wondering whether he could sneak a morsel without her noticing.

"There you are," she greeted him, shutting off the water so they didn't have to shout over the extra noise. "And no, thank you, I've nearly finished. What've you been up to today?"

"I went for a long walk, out by the lake. Been feeling a little stir-crazy, lately," Roy replied, a little vaguely. He really didn't want to delve into the true reasons behind his restlessness, but considering that it had been the first warm and sunny day in what felt like months, there was no need to elaborate. "Oh, I brought these back for you," he added, offering her the small bundle of daffodils.

"These are lovely, thank you," she said, reaching for them. "The woods must be just bursting with flowers. I always love this time of year." She set the flowers down carefully beside the sink, and began rummaging in a cupboard for something to put them in.

"Me, too," Roy smiled. "You should see all the crocuses. Did I miss anything interesting while I was out?" he asked, peeking under the lid of the pot closest to him. Dumplings, just as he'd thought. He pinched one while Riza's back was turned.

"Not particularly," Riza was saying dryly. "Unless you find dusting hundreds of old books interesting." Roy chuckled.

"Only if I'm reading them, and even then..." he shrugged, and popped the stolen dumpling into his mouth. It burned the roof of his mouth, but it was totally worth it.

"Exactly," she said, emerging with a vase at last. "And I saw that." He grinned a little sheepishly around his mouthful of dumpling as she mock-glared at him.

"The temptation was too great to resist," he laughed.

"I hope you burned your tongue," she said loftily, turning back to the sink with her vase. "Oh, I almost forgot! Dr. James brought our mail with him, when he stopped by this morning. There was something in there for you," she added, gesturing toward the kitchen table.

Roy's heart skipped a beat. Could it be...?

Knock it off, he told himself. Don't get all worked up over nothing. It's probably just the girls.

"Oh? That was nice of him," he managed in a nonchalant tone.

Behind him, the steady rush of water and the soft clatter of dishes indicated that Riza had already returned to her task, so he reached for the pile of mail she'd indicated and settled in his accustomed place at the table.

The envelope addressed to him was certainly not the usual letter from the girls. Roy opened it with trembling hands, forgetting to play it cool in his eagerness. A smile spread slowly across his face as he read the first few lines.

He was so engrossed that he didn't immediately register that the taps had shut off again, or that the quiet dish-washing sounds had ceased altogether. And so when Riza spoke again, he started so violently that he banged his knee against one of the table legs.

"You're going to leave, aren't you?" she asked in a flat voice. Roy looked up quickly, rubbing his sore knee. Riza still stood at the sink, motionless, with her back to him and a damp towel clutched tightly in one hand. The bright faces of the daffodils in their vase on the counter beside her seemed to accuse him.

"Riza…" he began, helplessly. This wasn't how he'd planned on breaking the news to her.

"Roy, please. Don't sugar-coat it," she spat bitterly. Though her unprecedented use of his first name startled him, he didn't show it.

"I…I am, yes," he admitted. He heard a sharp intake of breath, but still she kept her back to him.

"When?" Her voice was barely audible.

"In about a week, probably," he replied, quickly skimming the letter again to confirm the dates.

"I see," she murmured.

"It's...I...I've been accepted into the military academy," he explained, wondering how much she knew or had guessed just by looking at the envelope. "I haven't even talked to my aunt, or made any official plans yet, but I'll have to head home soon. I've got a lot to do if I'm to make it in time to start the spring semester," he said, vaguely aware that he was starting to babble.

"Were you even going to tell me?" The coldness in her voice tore at his heart.

"Of course!" he said indignantly. "I just...I didn't know if I'd even pass the preliminary evaluations. I sent them in by mail weeks ago. And when I didn't hear back right away…" he trailed off.

"Does Papa know?" she asked next, still not looking at him.

"He's the one who advised me to pursue other options in the first place," Roy said, a little resentment creeping into his tone. That got a reaction—Riza whirled around to face him at last.

"He what?" she gasped, eyes flashing.

"Because of his illness," Roy explained, miserably. "Dr. James was the one who first suggested it, I guess. Even though his cough has gotten better, you know sensei's been struggling to find the energy necessary to get out of bed every day. Lectures and practical lessons are out of the question. And so we talked about taking a break for a while, maybe a few months? But…he did say that I probably ought to go back home in the meantime."

"Oh," Riza breathed. She wore the slightly stunned expression of someone who had just been slapped without provocation.

"He doesn't know I've applied to the military academy, though," he admitted softly. "My aunt doesn't either...she's gonna be furious when I spring this on her. But, I didn't think they'd even accept my application, and then I don't know if I'll get through all the basic training, so until I did..."

"You didn't want to say anything to Papa until you were certain of completing the program," Riza finished for him.

"Yeah." Slowly, still clutching the damp dish towel in her hand, she drifted over and sank into the chair beside Roy's.

"I guess…I guess I can understand that," she said at last.

"I wanted to do something, while I waited. He said I could come back, once he's doing a bit better, to finish out the remaining time on my contracted apprenticeship," Roy added.

"But, the military," Riza murmured. "Isn't that a bit…permanent? As a career choice?"

"The academy's not. It's not a career until you actually graduate. I could drop out, or be kicked out, any time," he explained.

"Like attending a university," she mused. "I suppose that makes sense."

"Look, I know it's a lot to ask, but I'd really like it if…I mean, if you wouldn't mind...would you write to me?" he asked quietly. "When I'm away?"

"I beg your pardon?" Riza sounded surprised that he'd even asked. Roy flushed and looked away.

"O-only if you want to. I mean, you know, don't feel like you have to or anything, it's just that I—," he stammered, embarrassed. Riza interrupted him.

"Of course I'll write to you," she said, placing a hand on his arm. "I just…I never considered that you would want me to."

"I want you to," he blurted out. And then, more quietly: "I'll really miss you."

"Will you?" she murmured in reply.

"How can you even ask that?" he admonished, reaching out and lacing their fingers together. "You're one of the best friends I've ever had."

"Me, too," she whispered, giving his hand a slight squeeze. "I can't believe I've only known you a year. It seems like you've been here longer than that…but at the same time, it doesn't feel like you've been here very long at all."

"Yeah, I know what you mean," he replied, smiling sadly.

March 18th

After hastily writing a letter to his aunt the following morning (a job which was suddenly incredibly easy now that he had a clear-cut course of action), Roy steeled himself for the more difficult task of breaking the news to his teacher.

He found the man sitting at his desk in the study, idly toying with a lighter and staring into a long-cold cup of tea. The silver lighter flashed between his long, bony fingers, now open, now closed, now lit, and now extinguished. Roy watched, fascinated, from the doorway.

"Yes, child, what is it?" Berthold asked softly, without taking his eyes from his tea cup.

"I…I've been corresponding with my aunt," he lied. He'd written to her, of course, but the letter was still in his notebook. "I'm to return home as soon as possible."

"I see," Berthold said, frowning ever so slightly. "I suspected she might feel that way." Roy flinched at the slight twinge of his conscience.

"If—if your original offer still stands, sir, then I'd—I'd still like to come back later, to finish off the last few weeks we should have had," Roy said next. "Would that…be all right?"

"Indeed, yes," his teacher replied, finally looking up at him. "I shall look forward to it. How soon do you leave?"

"Just a week, sir. Next Monday."

"Very well. And what will you do with yourself, in the meantime? Besides keep up with your studies, of course?" Roy opened his mouth, prepared to spin the story he'd carefully thought out, all about working part time in the bar with his aunt while he saved his money and studied during the days, But he found he was unable to lie outright to the man he so respected.

"I…thought about enlisting in the military, sir," he confessed.

"Enlisting?!" Berthold spat, slamming the lighter down on his desk. "Surely you wouldn't be so foolish. Have you any idea what sort of organization you would be joining? No, of course not," he snarled, without pausing for an answer. "How could you possibly know anything of the deceit and corruption of our revered Fuhrer and his cabinet of puppets? Ignorant child!"

"I-it was just an idea, sir," Roy mumbled, cowed. "I thought…what with everything that's been happening lately, it would be nice to know how to defend myself, and my sisters, if it came to that. And-and they have these scholarship programs to help pay for higher education, so I wouldn't be so dependent on my aunt, and it - I thought it seemed like a good idea."

Berthold made a jerky movement with is head, and his eyes flashed dangerously. For a moment the only sound in the room was his heavy breathing as he fought to reign in his wrath.

"You'll see the truth soon enough," he said finally, in a somewhat calmer tone. "You'll learn what the world is like soon enough. Would to God that it didn't have to be the hard way, but perhaps nothing else would truly shatter your illusions."

"I just want to help people, sensei," Roy declared quietly. "I'm sorry if I've made you angry with me." Berthold sighed heavily and ran a hand through his thinning hair.

"I fear that you will come to regret such a choice, child," Berthold said slowly. "If that is the path you truly wish to tread, I cannot honestly offer you my blessing. However, I will give you some advice: Keep your eyes open, and follow your instincts. Do not blindly obey, but always be certain that those you follow are deserving of your loyalty."

"I-I'll try, sir," Roy said, as a shiver ran down his spine.

"I pray that you do, my boy," his teacher said softly. "I'm sure you have preparations to make, travel arrangements and such. You may go, now."

"Thank you, sensei," Roy replied humbly. As he turned to leave the room, he heard the soft snick of the lighter being lit again.

March 19th – 24th

Over the next few days, Riza outdid herself, laundering and mending various items of Roy's clothing with a nearly maniacal efficiency, ignoring his protests entirely.

"Really, you shouldn't be going to all this trouble," he'd objected, finding her at her sewing machine one morning with a pile of his things beside her. "This is my responsibility, not yours."

"Please let me help," she'd finally begged softly, clutching one of his shirts to her chest. "I want to do something." He'd grudgingly allowed her to help out after that, although he'd drawn the line when she'd pulled out the iron. ("Riza, I'm just gonna be shoving them all back into my suitcase. They'll be wrinkled before I even get on the train!")

Most of his packing was finished by the second day. Roy took the opportunity to make the trek into town to purchase his train ticket and mail his letter to Chris. He tried not to think about how irritated she was going to be when he turned up on her doorstep.

Of course, by the time he'd left the post office, word of his one-way ticket purchase had already spread, and he'd spent the rest of the morning saying his goodbyes to his numerous acquaintance in town, explaining over and over that no, Master Hawkeye hadn't chucked him out, and that yes, he hoped to come back again sometime soon.

Perversely, all of their cheery good wishes depressed him, and his mood had only darkened on the long, lonely walk home. Riza had taken one look at his face and promptly left the room, returning with a blanket and a picnic basket. By the time they'd reached the lake, his gloomy feelings had all but dissipated.

They spent their last few afternoons together in much the same way: a lakeside picnic followed by long, aimless walks through the woods, chatting lightly about anything and everything that sprung to mind, except for Roy's impeding departure. In the evenings, after supper, they'd sprawl on the couch together to listen to the radio or read, as they had done so many nights before. But knowing that it would soon be coming to an end made each of these quiet evenings all the more precious, and Roy irrationally wished they'd never end.

On the morning of his departure, Roy rose before dawn. He packed the last of his personal belongings in silence, and hauled his bags down the stairs as quietly as he could. Knowing that his teacher wouldn't want to be roused at such an early hour, Roy had said his farewells the evening before. Berthold had responded somewhat absentmindedly, though he had at least mentioned that he would write to Roy as soon as he was able to resume their lessons.

Glancing at the clock in the hall, Roy frowned slightly. He'd arranged for Peter Kingsley to give him a lift into town, since he'd be passing by the Hawkeye estate on his usual delivery route. He was due any minute, now, but Roy still had one thing left to do.

As he'd hoped, Riza was waiting for him in the kitchen. Though there wasn't enough time for a proper breakfast, she'd risen early to make him some bacon sandwiches to eat on the train, and there was a pot of coffee keeping warm on the stove. When he entered the room, she got to her feet soundlessly and poured out a mug for him. Passing it to him, she avoided his eyes and he accepted it from her with subdued thanks. But then they just stood there facing each other in the middle of the kitchen, slightly too close to each other but unwilling to move away. Roy lowered his head slightly in an attempt to meet her downcast eyes.

"Hey," he said gently, setting his untouched coffee down and reaching for her hand instead. "Don't look so glum. I'll be back; you'll see."

Slowly, she tilted her face to look up at him. And suddenly Roy realized how close they were actually standing, and how warm her hand was in his, and how soft her lips looked, and how very much he was going to miss seeing her and talking to her every day. Even as he studied her face, wanting to memorize it, Riza's eyes filled with unshed tears. He definitely didn't want the last thing he saw to be her crying face.

Impulsively, Roy leaned closer, heart thundering painfully in his chest.

Riza met him halfway.

The kiss was soft, tentative, and a bit on the awkward side due to a lack of prior experience. And it was glorious. When they pulled back, each smiling a little stupidly, Roy stroked a hand tenderly over her cheek.

"I've been wanting to do that for a while now," he admitted. Riza ducked her head again, blushing.

"You've got terrible timing," she said, falling back on their usual banter.

"Don't I know it," he murmured, leaning forward again to press his lips gently and briefly to hers. "But at least this way your father won't be able to kill me immediately."

"I wouldn't be so sure of that," she rejoined, even as she twined her arms around Roy's neck and let him pull her even more securely against his chest. "He has his ways." He chuckled, and then they were both silent for a moment.

"Write to me?" Roy breathed into her hair. God, he never wanted to let her go.

"Of course," she whispered back.

They held each other close until the gentle rap on the door reminded them that Roy had someplace to be, and that his ride had just arrived.

"Goodbye, Miss Hawkeye," Roy said formally, gently relinquishing his hold on her.

"Goodbye, Mr. Mustang. Have a safe trip," Riza replied in a steady voice. Her eyes were still suspiciously bright, and Roy had to turn away.

Peter greeted them cheerfully and helped Roy load his bags in the back of his wagon. As they drove slowly away, Roy glanced over his shoulder one last time, and was surprised to see his teacher's solemn face at one of the upper windows. Berthold raised one hand in silent farewell, which Roy returned just before the road curved and the Hawkeye estate was hidden from view.

"It's not forever," he told himself as his throat closed. "I'll come back. Soon."

A.N. Although I am officially marking this as complete, there are still a few things I will be adding over the next week or so - an epilogue and an"omake" chapter, and possibly a deleted scene or two if anyone is interested in seeing what didn't make the cut ;) Thank you all for being such a wonderful audience!

xoxo Janie