Chapter Text
He’d lost track of time sometime after the sun had gone down, and the train had pulled into Grand Central City Station. Roy’s arrival back to the Academy barracks was something he did with as little fanfare as possible, slipping into the building like a ghost. Above everything else, he felt tired.
There had been an hour when he had done nothing but play and replay the scene in his mind, the words she had said, and the things Riza Hawkeye didn’t tell him, but after this first hour on the train, a stewardess offered him a nightcap, and he gratefully took a glass of scotch. It didn’t ease his mind overmuch; Master Hawkeye’s stare still bore into his chest - but he felt his energy slipping, and fell into a dreamless nap. Roy had woken up two stops before his final destination more exhausted than before, chest heavy and head throbbing in dehydration.
There were bad ideas, the Madame had said, and then there were bad ideas with booze. Roy had hoped making his trip the latter would ease the wear on him.
It shouldn’t have surprised him that Maes was still awake and waiting to see him, but it did.
“So should I ask…?” Hughes started, eyes lighting up roguishly, as he swung an arm over Roy’s shoulders, and clapped his back. “-I mean a man in that much of a hurry, what’d you do, propose to someone?” he said with a laugh, as Roy winced from the blow. The scotch was long enough gone that Roy guessed he didn’t smell of it, but the effects still made him slower than he might have normally been. He caught his balance, stopping just short of stumbling, and brushed Maes off, giving him a stern look.
“Not now, Hughes.” Roy said tiredly, making his way to his bed and effects. He dumped the knapsack beside his bed, and pulled out his alchemy notebook and pen, before he collapsed against his mattress.
“Sheesh.” Maes replied, rubbing the back of his neck. Giving Roy a more serious look, he gauged the situation, and Roy could only guess what wild assumptions Maes would be coming up with. It didn’t matter what they were; undoubtably Maes would still fall sort of the mark. But still, if it had been a family fatality, Roy would have said something. Would have requested a real leave, and been granted it. Which left something else. Something that would remain private. “What’s eating you?”
Roy shrugged, flipping his book to a blank page. “Long day.”
“And here I was hoping it was a woman,” Hughes pressed, black brow raising behind his rectangular glasses. Roy sighed, rolling his eyes as he attempted to ignore his older, nosy friend.
A full five minutes passed before Maes returned to settling in for the evening quietly, and Roy spoke up once more.
“Hey Hughes.”
Pausing, Maes looked up from buttoning his pajama top. “Yeah?”
“You really think all that love of a woman stuff is worth it?” It was casual, and nearly dismissive in its tone, but Maes honed in as if the mere question was meaningful. Maes Hughes saw meaning and ulterior motive in everything.
“Of course I do. You have to have something to look forwards to. Someone who loves you enough to fix waffles for breakfast and you can make laugh before bed.” He settled back onto his bed, hands behind his head as he rested against his pillows. “Two-point-five kids and a nice apartment isn’t so bad. Why the hell else would you want to protect and serve if not for that?”
Roy smiled, closing his eyes. “Moral obligation. Patriotism. Duty as a citizen. I could go on.”
“Those are excuses. Not reasons. People are more selfish than that.”
“Maybe,” Roy hedged. He set his pen down to his paper, and jotted down the initials R. H. — “But I would hardly call all those other reasons excuses.”
From across the way, Maes grunted. “I guess. Anyways, Goodnight. I covered for you for enough, and I’m exhausted.”
“Yeah, Night.” Roy replied absently as Hughes flicked off his small light and Roy returned to scrawling on his page.
Atomically speaking, we are never apart.
Scientifically, movements are measured in time and space; distance itself is a concept that is only fact when felt. Miles here, minutes there, but atoms are substructures of the whole and lay against each other without end, and you cannot remove this connection.
I did not mention this when I left, because people are unscientific creatures, and measure distance in emotions and thoughts, not atoms and space.
Science is more comforting when it comes to distances, however.
The difference between holding you, and holding your letters is marginal at best; you have touched the pages that I will touch and doing so, you have taken my hands. I will miss this kiss of words because it made the space between us that much smaller. We both walk the same earth and touch the same ground. Between us both, the space is negligible; we lay apart atom to atom, and your touch is present even when you are not. I wish you saw this act of science, because although it is endless, it is infinitesimal. We are as much together as we are apart, and this is what I take comfort in.
I regret not telling you that bonds are not meant for breaking. The strength of a bond is such that it can be measured by the overlap of the atomic orbitals involved - for each revolution, how much is shared? When one atom is a part of another, it cannot simply break away. Bond strength is lessened by distance, the greater the covalent radius; but space alone does not break it. Alchemically, there is very little that does not overlap; when two objects are comprised of the same compounds, they become a part of each other. When I think you are a part of me, perhaps I mean to think my mass is not whole without adding yours.We occupied the same space.
I am sorry this ever caused you any pain or hardship. I was presumptive, as my Aunt would say. I am equally apologetic that this letter will never span the physical distances between you and I; the essence therein may only exist in places that have touched what you might, connecting us again, but more briefly.
As your friend, I know enough to deny you the chance to read the thoughts of your once-lover at your request. I would deny you nothing you asked of me; I promise you that. It is an imperfect sentimentality to deny science in favor of emotion, but you wish to be separate, and our ends and beginnings are already not so far apart. I can’t give you these words. I suppose I understand why. It’s harder now to separate what was then and after without thinking of an ‘us’ at all.
Still, I will miss you. Alchemy has its limits, after all.
- R.M.
When he was done, he scratched a small array onto another page, and tore the letter out, laying it atop his array. With a push of his fingers and a soft crackle of blue light, the ink bled across the page, and the paper folded into a graceful outline of a vigilant hawk.