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"When did you start thinking about wanting to protect Amestris, Mr. Mustang?" Riza asked him, her eyes cast into the horizon outside the window of her room. He arched a brow, watching as the afternoon light bathed her figure in front of him. Despite the firmness in her tone, he saw the way her shoulders slumped and the way her hands shook as she held herself.
A frown fell on his face.
How terribly forlorn she must be, he realised, looking for an anchor in the aftermath of despair.
But perhaps that was why he received his master's dying wish. If not him, then at least he, as his student, can be someone Riza can look for company in these cold hours. He may not always be the best companion, but it does not matter. He does not want to watch her eyes grow sadder anymore.
"It grew on me," he began softly as she turned to him with a questioning gaze. "When I was younger, I told you and master it was so I could give my adoptive mother happiness. She took me in after my parents died while they were crossing from Xing, and for that, I am grateful. Over the time, however, I have come to mean Amestris when I mean 'mother'."
He looked up at her. "It was here where I have found people I want to protect, and if it means becoming a soldier on the frontlines in order to ascertain her safety, then that's what I'll be. In the end, it's my life I'm willing to give in order for others to have that same chance at happiness."
"The law of equivalent exchange, then," Riza said, a fond curl resting on her lips.
"Very much so," he answered, grinning at her. "If it's a chance to colour these ashen skies, then I'll do it. The labour doesn't matter. That in itself is part of that law."
"Forgive my question, Mr. Mustang," she asked, brows furrowed. "Is it really only through the military where this opportunity lies?"
Roy arched a brow at her, a smile tugging at his lips. As expected of his master's daughter, Riza was as sharp-sighted as he was. Despite his answer, it cannot be denied that she was right. There was the legislature, after all, but with the way things are run under the regime of King Bradley, taking a chance at the military was a more concrete path than becoming a puppet with visible strings.
"Not at all," he said. "However, as I'm sure you'll have noticed in our education system, much of it is concentrated on its usefulness to the military. Literature, our one chance of self-expression, is not published without strict approval from the ministry of letters. Even the language of our neighbors, Aerugo and Creta, we are mostly acquainted with by martial vernacular. Our farewell, for example, if translated in their mother tongue, is tainted with our image of being conquerors. That is pervasive enough, of course, but if you would look at our healthcare, it is very much lacking. The moment you lose an arm, you are given a mechanical one, and our technology in it is greatly advanced that we are capable of turning automails into weapons. So you see, the status quo, as it stands, is dire, and even if it's only me and a few people, I want to change it."
Riza stared at him silently.
"So if I truly want to see progress, I will not do it at the legislature, even if it is law that truly carries the thoughts of our generation after our deaths," he continued. "Instead, I will do it where I can do more things pragmatically. Even if it means that I will be cursed as a dog of the military."
When she remained silent, Roy looked down. "If this perspective is disagreeable, I understand. Today has had enough moments of disquiet, and I do not wish to contribute more to it."
"No, I get what you mean," she said, shaking her head when he started to move towards the door. "It was a topic my father discouraged, but it does not mean that I share the same sentiment as he does."
He turned towards her in disbelief. She never did say anything against his being a soldier earlier, but he was curious as to what she meant.
"You inherited my father's last will, yes?"
He nodded. Then she turned her back to him, unbuttoning her shirt before letting it fall to the floor. He paled at the sight of the flame alchemy arrayed across her back.
"Then this," she whispered, "was my inheritance."
His throat tightened in anger as a tear fell from his eyes.
What father would do this to his daughter? he thought angrily, wiping the stray tear away as she turned towards him with her arms crossed in front of her.
She raised her eyes to him, saying, "If alchemy is meant for people to achieve happiness and joining the military is the way to help people, then I entrust this to you. If it's you, I can believe it."
The weight of her words felt like a punch to his gut, but he must not succumb to the anger he felt right now. He does not have the right to act on it. He can only be here for her, helping her weather the tide of emotions that she has probably not allowed herself to go through just yet.
Nodding, he met her gaze. Then he took off his coat and wrapped it around her gently. "I will take care of it, but we don't have to do it today."
"Mr Mustang, I don't think I—," she rasped, tears suddenly leaking from her eyes. She was shaking as she held onto the lapels of his coat.
Roy swallowed.
"All right, I'll copy it down quickly today," he assured her, realising how heavy and lonely it must feel, to carry this secret all by herself. Then he saw how morose her eyes were and added, "I'll go back tomorrow — after I get out — so you can rest tonight and we can work on it then, if you like?"
Riza let out a sigh of relief, resting her head on his chest for a bit. "Yes, please," she said, wiping her tears. "Thank you."
It was a terribly good thing she could not see his face, then, with his cheeks turning incarnadine as he hugged her. The fact that she was partly deshabille was not lost on him, but he kept his eyes closed and removed it from his mind. She does not deserve such baseness, he reprimanded himself. Nonetheless, it was a relief when her trembling gradually ceased in his arms.
Once she has settled, he copied everything on her back as quickly and properly as he could. If he had any errors, it can surely be resolved tomorrow. What's more important was making sure that Riza would not collapse from despair. He should have realised it earlier, with the way her shoulders remained stiff throughout the funeral, but she did not want to betray a tear, it seemed.
He glanced at Riza, who was eating quietly across the table. While he can still feel her sadness in the air, she seemed to have recovered a bit.
Master once said he has died a long time ago, he pondered with a frown. Then his eyes widened. If that's the case, then the array on her back was not just his life's work, but also a suicide note addressed to his only daughter!
His lids fell, the high of the anger he felt earlier plummeting towards a miserable sadness he felt down to the marrow of his bones.
"Is the soup too hot, Mr Mustang?"
He blinked, trying to rein in a tear threatening to fall by grinning at her. "Ah, it was," he answered, making a show of blowing out his cheeks. "But don't worry about it. I haven't tasted this pot-au-feu you made for a long time. I really missed it. Beats the canned stew the brass served to us during training."
Riza smiled at him, even if she knew what he just did. "You are too kind, Mr Mustang."
He shook his head, helping her fix the dishes once they were done eating.
"We'll work on it tomorrow, all right?" he asked again, eyeing the way his coat wrapped her in it. He can't comprehend why it suited her so much. Though it was probably the way her flaxen hair worked in contrast to the darkness of the coat, if he remembered his mother's lectures on proper fashion right. At any rate, though, he doesn't need the coat at the moment. She can have it for the meantime.
Then his attention refocused on her voice, firmer now than it was a while ago, as she said, "I really appreciate your company this evening, Mr Mustang. I'm sorry for all the trouble today again."
She gave him a soft smile as he walked out the door.
"Ah," he answered, his cheeks reddening at her display, "it's all right. Thank you as well. I'll see you tomorrow, then?"
"Of course."
Needless to say, Roy left her place slightly disoriented. He had not seen her smile like that before. At all. But what a pretty picture to see, he thought.
He blinked.
He shook his head. Surely it was just the exhaustion making him doubly attentive to some... details. Nonetheless, there was a lot to be reckoned tomorrow, and he owed it to Riza and his master to resolve it. At the very least.
The following day, Roy was able to leave headquarters after a mountain of work from General Grumman. He managed to leave without complaints, phew. The general was quite the slave driver, even when he was aware that it was just the day after his son-in-law's funeral.
Probably to be expected, he thought, with how strict things are even in the Hawkeye household.
Nonetheless, he drove quickly to the Hawkeye estate in New Optain, stopping only to buy some bread and chocolate on the way. Anything to help soothe her, really, he reasoned. Once he reached the place, Riza welcomed him with thanks and soon enough, they set up things at her own study immediately.
A few hours later, Roy scratched his head in annoyance. "I don't think I'll resolve this in one day," he grumbled over the mess of papers and books scattered around the desk.
"What parts are you having difficulties with?" Riza asked, going behind him with a book in hand. She arched a brow, eyes trained on the spot where he had drawn the main formula for flame alchemy. He saw how she bit her lip at the crooked lines of the salamander. "I see your sketches are as straightforward as ever."
His cheeks reddened. He does not have the best dexterity for drawing figures, but having it pointed out by Riza made his ears warm.
"The results shall suffice for it," he countered, scratching his ear. Figures that the weather would have to be punishing after an evening of rain. "Anyway, I've separated the array into three parts — the literary allusions to fire, classical alchemy alongside the basic concepts, and finally, the hardest parts which contain these formulas that was not taught to me at all. The first two, we've deciphered it to mean as the value of light to humanity, so that's settled. It's just the last one that's going to take a while."
Riza nodded, taking his summary of the last part from his hands. Her eyes skimmed over the pages quickly before she returned it to him. "I'm not surprised that this would be the most troublesome section of my father's theory," she said, taking out a few books from a nearby shelf before placing it on the desk. "I myself have not understood it that well. Or rather, I have not had the right motivation then, I suppose."
He arched a brow, trying to remember whether he has seen Riza practise alchemy before. He cannot seem to recall a particular moment, but it does not mean that she has been unaware of the times his master has been teaching him.
"If we put together these notes," she continued over his thoughts, taking a few pages each from the parts he mentioned earlier, "we can see a trend."
Roy leaned over her arm, his eyes skimming over the notes she selected. His eyes widened. She had lined up the sections that covered the main circle, the laws of thermodynamics, the rebuttal to the phlogiston theory, and the one equation he had yet to fully understand.
He looked up at her. "Are you saying—?"
"I am not an alchemist like you and father," Riza nodded, settling the pages down, "but I can understand the philosophy — or at least what my father is trying to say, if not the particular steps to the theory. So if we have this lined up together, then it's an instruction for the user to control the movement, volatility, and target of fire. Therefore, if we consider this alongside the other parts of the whole array, in essence my father trusts that whoever decodes the secret of his work will not be irresponsible with its usage."
She gave him a piercing glance. "And it is under my conscience that I have imparted it to you, Mr Mustang, because I believe in your dream."
He met her eyes unwaveringly, catching her meaning. "Understood," he said, taking the pages from her hands gently. "I will remember to exercise caution."
Riza bobbed her head in agreement, her attention now focused on the pages laid out on the desk.
He studied it for a moment as well. It was good that Riza pointed that out, seeing as he had been overthinking each section of the array. That said, the matter of figuring out the instructions was still a daunting task in itself. He eyed Riza again.
"May I see the books you just took?"
His eyes skimmed over the titles when an idea popped in his head. He was about to write it down on one of the papers in front of him, but there was no more space at all. He eyed a lone scratch paper on another table, just behind Riza, and before he thought to ask her help for it, he reached for it around her, afraid to lose his train of thought. Riza got pushed towards his table, and he apologised, resting a hand on her back as he sat down again.
"I ran out of papers and didn't want to lose a sudden idea I had, I'm sorry," he repeated, removing his hand on her waist quickly.
"Ah, of course," she whispered, looking away from him. He tried hard not to fathom why he wanted to see her face.
No, he thought, writing more rigorously on the paper, as he desperately ignored the warmth on his hand. This is not the time.
Wait, did I just—?
He looked up from his notes in horror, ignoring the questioning gaze of Riza. He took a deep breath, forcing himself to focus on the task at hand. To his relief, it was not hard to do that at all, with the desire to resolve the puzzle of the array eventually taking over his mind for the rest of the day.
It was late in the evening when Roy and Riza finished what they could, and since they had taken breaks here and then, Roy waved off the invitation for dinner and headed downstairs with her.
"I'm sorry for the trouble today," he said, eyeing her as she shook her head with a small grin. He suddenly remembered something he wanted to ask her, but he just had to word it carefully.
"By the way, I'm really grateful for the pointers earlier," he began slowly as they reached the door. "I would not have figured things out if you hadn't. That said, you have a good grasp of alchemy, so what's stopping you from practising it?"
Riza looked up at him in surprise before her face fell. "There are things I am good at," she answered, crossing her arms, "but there are things I am rather content with just knowing out of curiosity. When it comes to alchemy, I prefer to have limits. It is more of a mental exercise for me, I guess, is what I should say."
Roy nodded, not wanting to push her further. She does not have to say more than that, but he figured it would have to do with her father's unhealthy fixation over alchemy. More so, there were simply things that one cannot help avoiding if the stigma outweighs the motivation. That's not something to blame on her, but her father. He let his lids fall for a moment, trying to quell the anger from bubbling in the surface again.
Again, he reminded himself he does not have the right to act on it. However, he thought determinedly, it does not mean that the stigma will reside there forever, if done with care.
He opened his eyes to see her gazing at him. "What is it?"
"Humour me, then, for a mental exercise," he requested. "Is there a particular subject that you've pondered at length?"
Riza glanced away from him, her cheeks flushing. "I guess, it would have to be the law discussing the conservation of energy."
He arched a brow, curious as to what she means.
"If energy can neither be created nor destroyed and only transformed, as this law says, then as we learn in school, it is very much the foundation of the law of equivalent exchange," she answered, leaning on the edge of the door like him. "As a child, I thought, then if that's the case, it follows that our feelings are like that as well."
A smile rose over his lips. "What made you realise this?"
A shadow fell over her face momentarily. "My mother's death."
"My father never told me why or how she died," she continued before he could say anything, "but I have always seen how devoted he was to her. When I was still a child, he used to keep the garden in the back before he went to his study. That garden, he let slip once, used to be filled with red and white roses because my mother loved those. So I kept that memory in my heart happily. It was not until I was a few years older that I read from one of his books that roses were connected to alchemy as a symbol of wisdom, if I remember correctly."
Then she turned her gaze to him. "So I reasoned that if my father's love for my mother goes beyond her death, then it was logical to say that love is energy. That is to say, if one efforts for another, regardless if it's reciprocated or not, as long as that leads to a result, then is that not equivalent exchange?"
Roy could only stare at her in wonder, her statement flooring him.
She appeared to have misunderstood his gaze, though, as she glanced away from him with reddened cheeks. "Or so I concluded at least."
"No, no, don't disregard it," he said, touching her hand if only to assure her, "it's a really remarkable conclusion. A very wise one."
He watched her glance at his hand before meeting his gaze. "Thank you."
Roy let his hand fall to his side, remembering himself. He scratched his head, looking away. "If anything, I should be the one thanking you," he whispered, eyeing her from the corner.
And just like yesterday, she gave him that same fond smile as he walked outside the door.
He does not know what face to make even as he managed to say farewell.
How terribly amusing, he thought, finding it hard to gaze away from her, that I did not realise I was also looking for an anchor amid the sadness that I, too, have yet to allow myself to feel.
And for I to see it in her gentle eyes, why is that not strange at all?
He clutched his chest, wondering.
Why is that not strange at all?