Before October

So Roy can talk the talk, but he cannot walk the walk, or perform any real alchemy yet. XD Sorry not sorry, Roy!

Next part will be up soon. For now, enjoy!

Chapter 4: Talk the Talk

Roy was staring at the dining room table, his eyes seemingly focused on nothing, and not at his finished meal abandoned to his side. Roy was staring at a military pamphlet. Induction Evening for the Military Academy, Front Gate, East City Military HQ, 7:00pm prompt start – scholarships available! The last two words were hastily scribbled in a dripping ink at the bottom of the advertisement to encourage the gullible recruits to line up at the headquarters' doors. Him.

The apprentice kicked his legs out and slumped as though his body was being swallowed by the table. True, he wasn't one was wallowing. But even he had been shocked to his master's response to his self-declaration in the study:

"I'm going to join the military," Roy had attempted to pump out his chest, the spitting image of a military general. Instead of his hands slipping into pockets, he held them firmly behind his back, straightened, and he had nearly hit his head on the ceiling, lower than Roy had assumed.

The old master dug his hand into the current of papers spiralling into the air on his desk. His hand moved through the reams with an uncanny accuracy, as though he had a photographic memory of the contents which had passed under his nose throughout his years of research. And he pulled out one article, buried deep in the pile; if he could have smiled, he would have in response to Roy's nonplussed expression. Roy was too honourable to gape at his master but the disconcerting confusion virtually leapt from Roy's astounded face. Roy internally sighed, thankful that Riza, and her camera, were not present.

"Master, how did-"

Hawkeye had handed him the pamphlet he was still staring at after his meal.

"Do you believe that a truth so obvious could be hidden from a Hawkeye?" He had waved a hand in evident dismissal. That was it…That was it? Roy felt like he was floating as he departed the study, sleep-walking, bumping into the door twice before managing to grapple at the handle with a shaking palm. He thought that he was dreaming, and this one was a brute.

There at the table he shuddered, and not from the cold fire unignited in the corner of the room. Roy refolded the corners, the pamphlet reluctantly shaping into a square, a rectangle, what Roy classified as a "triangle" and weird assortments even he couldn't decipher. He should have been jumping on the table pumping his fist with euphoria, but he continued staring at the pamphlet, oddly serene. Roy Mustang could achieve his goals and save them all. However, he felt that he was inching closer to a climax, something even the clock could not prevent. His choice could be leading to disaster. But it could lead to salvation.

He turned his head abruptly around and as he saw Riza make eye contact with him, she was ignored. Of course he needed the company right now, stretched out across the table like an abandoned kitten, but Roy's charcoal depths were studiously looking away. Intentionally. Riza was carrying something heavy, and the grunt of bearing a heavy load followed shortly after, which confirmed Roy's suspicions. She was going out to feed the menace. And the only way…through the back door, which meant traversing through the dining room.

He stuck his legs out, jutting between the table and the opposite wall, high enough so she couldn't jump over with ease and not low enough for her to carry on walking, and hence make a mockery of him. Roy finally swivelled around on the seat and leered at her, his pathetic and pedantic form of entertainment failing to amuse the victim. Riza paused for a few seconds longer, and Roy knew he was being given time to contemplate that fate. And why that thought had some unknown irony…he didn't know.

She raised an eyebrow. She dumped the load by the door. She set herself at a brisk pace and his legs crumbled like wood to the floor. "Never again…" she hissed, her face entirely neutral in the half-light. Roy wanted to turn the fire on there and then to glimpse at her irritated face, but he remembered with disdain that he was only an apprentice.

As he heard the door racket open and about to close, when it stopped. Roy slipped out into the darkness, wishing he had been wearing that damn coat, wet or not. God had suddenly brought Drachma to the East. It was freezing! Roy was a second away from squealing on the spot, like jumping into a frozen shower, its frothy steam feigning warmth when it was housing sub-zero temperatures.

Well, that was winter for you.

"Sh- shoot it's too cold," he mumbled but despite his plaintive cries, his friend was whole-heartedly engaged in a conversation already.

"It's too cold for you, isn't it, Dapple? Why are you outside…were you waiting for me?" How could she employ should an affectionate tone with the beast? Conversation? No. Riza instead cooed to the animal.

She moved backwards but didn't bump into Roy. As she sat down on the steps overlooking the sodden grasses, her hand reached out with hay; there was a tug and a shuffle as Dapple the not dappled pony swallowed his share. Riza was sitting next to where Roy was still hovering. He watched their "conversation" unfold, of a repetitive reach, tug and shuffle. In the distance, the sky was visible, trees skinned bare. The heavens were a clouded confusion of overcast rain and gleaming stars, but at the Hawkeye Estate, it was quiet, similar to the calm before the storm. But there was no storm tonight.

"You really are going to have to start making friends. Entertainment from tormenting me is not the way forward." Riza sighed as Roy reluctantly sat on the dry spot of the step next to her. She was a Hawkeye too and knew about the Academy's Induction Evening. That was most likely how his master had found the pamphlet; Roy must have tossed it on the kitchen counter in pursuit for coffee one day to which she had picked it up.

"Does the pony count?" He reached for some hay; Riza had made the routine appear so natural, but the menace thrust his head into the air, flaring his nostrils, so his teeth protruded outwards in obvious disgust. Roy thought it polite to retaliate against Dapple's response. "I shouldn't have been mistaken! Can I be friends with a donkey then?"

"Don't insult your kin." she replied. Roy was intrigued, and folded his arms across his lap.

"Are you implying that I am a donkey? It was a horse before. You need to make up your mind, Hawkeye." He blinked in quiet acquiescence. She saw through everything. The name suited her.

"I'm implying neither. You're an ass."

What! Perhaps…he smirked, his expression invisible to the stars' watching eyes.

His first true friend, a friend who treated her father's student ever so kindly. Unfortunately, the inevitable prospect of socialisation awaited him tomorrow. He groaned, and Dapple whinnied in ignorant yet melancholy response.

Roy shuffled beneath the covers resting on his back, wishing the experience of yesterday was some pervading nightmare. He was beginning to think that it was real and he lay there in bed pondering on his master's unusual response. The man was never paternal, even to his own daughter. Berthold Hawkeye was an alchemist; he would tarnish his reputation as a tutor by allowing his student to sign up to become a military dog, while gaining something in return. Equivalent Exchange was the foundation for an alchemist's lifestyle, or one as experienced as Hawkeye, able to contemplate virtue and deceit with a principle. He could apply science to reality.

His master saw benefit in Roy joining the military. That had been Roy's final conclusion before he had fallen asleep. Larks had sounded outside as he welcomed the sleep, fighting the urge to find a source of caffeine quickly, which he refused and surrendered to the muffled comfort of unconsciousness. He had been awake the entire night.

But the alarm clock continued to blare, its sound amplified as it echoed across his bedroom, and despite his yelling "shut up" at the contraption, it still wouldn't shut up. He rolled to his side, slamming a fist on the alarm. It was 6:45pm. Roy would be driven to a point of desperation under few circumstances; deadlines failed to faze him and in his future years, he could arrive at a date a little later so long as he carried a red bouquet with him, he would have been forgiven, but he was Roy Mustang, an alchemist with a reputation of his own to maintain.

He shrugged out of his creased clothes and threw on the trousers to his suit. The blazer was missing. A comb materialised from a bathroom drawer and he dragged it across his hair, abandoning the hope for finding his parting seconds later. Valuable seconds. Roy splashed water into his face, although all that the entire feat achieved was making him more tired. He didn't have time to grab for a coffee as he hurried out past the kitchen. Neither of the other two, three, residents were in the room. One was studying, one was eating, one was most probably laughing at him from her bedroom window, which conveniently overlooked the street that he stumbled down, quite literally. He was wearing his pyjama top beneath his jumper too.

If Hawkeye had not been laughing, she would be in hysterics internally as Roy slid down the hill on his behind, feet skittering into the ground to stand up, which succeeded to no avail whatsoever. Even for all her composure, this was too good a moment for Hawkeye to dismiss as "trivial". Roy would never find out if she had watched him or not. And there was a blackmail he couldn't forget. After this experience, everyone wondered how Roy adapted to the regimented military protocol so swiftly.

But he arrived. Five minutes late. And he had had time to brush the snow from his… He had tucked the top into the jumper and with a few pleasantries; he would blend into the crowd, settle into a seat, and listen to his future.

That was too simple for his life of course.

He passed through the iron gates and ornate lions, and followed along the path. The dull mumble of cars droning by passed through his ears as the lively chatter of conversation with banners pointing towards a secluded building at the headquarters caught his eye. He could even smell the coffee along with the oil-smell of the military as he walked over crunching ice, its echoes faint amongst the calamity of sound elsewhere. Warm lights shone in the darkness as inside the building, winter was temporarily forgotten with the buzz of activity and almost ravenous excitement. The East City Military Headquarters, an isolated and hostile building, was welcoming its newest recruits.

Roy was too mesmerised by the HQ's transformation to notice the man by the door. But he had been heard, and there was no escape.

"Hi, I'm Maes Hughes, and I'm the most loyal family man our military will ever meet!" A man with puckered lips and glasses which bobbled up and down his face, reflecting ludicrously cunning green eyes, met his onyx. They stared at him, as though they were inspecting him. A photograph was shoved at his face, and Roy couldn't breathe for a moment out of sheer surprise. The photograph vanished a second later. The badge pinned to his chest reading, "Amestris' East Branch Military Officers welcome you!" made Roy back away from this suck-up. Already, Maes Hughes was highly irritating to Roy. Thank goodness there were other people to mingle with.

"I am Roy-"

"You live with Batty and Beauty on the hill!" He beamed, but when Roy failed to respond with any sensible remark, Maes rolled his eyes, reluctant to explain the integrity to his joke. "Hawkeye…bird… bats have wings…he his..."

"You are genuinely terrible at delivering insults, that's all I need to know," Roy muttered under his breath, becoming increasingly tempted to curse aloud. He had to bite his lip, his teeth grinding slowly over each other.

Maes ignored him. "So you're an apprentice alchemist! That would be useful for a promotion. I'll stick around. Let's be allies!"

"How about no-"

"I saw an alchemist fix a broken jar before. It did give me goosebumps, but nothing like my darling Gracie-Gracie (my girlfriend you know!)."

"Wait-"

"You have to give me a demonstration!"

"I can't. I am not an alchemist, dammit! I don't know how to yet for Truth's sake!" He made the comment without realizing why he had thought about it.

"Oh…well." Thank goodness, will he shut up now? "Well, that's your nickname sorted!" A bell chimed from inside. "The meeting is starting now and we do want seats, Useless."

"Don't call me useless!" Roy was fuming. Nobody had ever broken his temper; he prided himself in being composed like Hawkeye, except from this buffoon, idiot, fool. "Maniac…"

He had said it. What was he thinking in his sane mind? Sane? Maes Hughes had driven him to insanity in two minutes. "Are you forgetting the 'pyro' prefix?"

Roy sighed, entered the building with Maes and grabbed the nearest chair he could find in an isolated corner. There were a couple of dozen others lined up at the front of the seats, eager recruits, while he had chosen to sulk at the back. At least he would be left alone. He couldn't complete the thought as Maes moved next to him. But Roy had surrendered. "Fine."

"Fine to my hilarious insults or to being allies?" It was then that Roy smirked. Maes was intelligent, albeit in his strange, fanatical way. His companion was now beaming looking into his lap, with an open wallet in front of him. Instead of thinking about his economic prospects, Maes was swooning at the photograph again.

"I'll suffer." Roy reached out a hand in formal gratification, although Maes swamped over him with a bear hug. If Roy had not pulled away, he swore the man would have ruffled his hair like he was a schoolboy. Sweet irony. "And the name is Roy. Roy Mustang, just in case you would like to call me that amid your swarm of insults."

That secured their friendship. But a booming voice had started to deliver his message across the room. How could Roy have forgotten to circumspect his surroundings? Stay alert. He should have known this would happen. Because that voice was an all too familiar sound for the alchemist-to-be.