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kashiwrites(Continued from Chapter 2)
Spring had completely taken hold here. For the past couple of mornings, Roy had stepped onto his front porch and just breathed. You could almost smell everything growing within an inch of its life. There was a small lake to the north, and the humidity travelled down to this area, bounded and prevented from moving east by that ridge across a low valley behind the house. This little cottage he’d bought several months ago was situated in a good position: on a hill from which he could view the valley and the ridge behind, and a gentler valley in front of the house that widened slowly toward a row of hills a few miles away to the west.
Behind him, slightly to the northeast, lay Ishbal, just a short distance away with its heat and its desert. Fascinating, what a couple of high ridges did to block the means of turning that land into as lush a region as this was. And before him, across a small rocky river and over those green hills just a bit southeast, was Risemboul.
But both places might as well have been thousands of miles away, for all the contact he would have. The road that slashed through the eastern ridge ran closer to the lake, and you’d have to travel back west along it for quite a ways before you’d run into the overgrown track that led south to the village at the bottom of his hill. And the road through the western hills, toward Risemboul, wasn’t frequently travelled even if it was in better condition. The village below his house relied on the surrounding farms and orchards for almost everything it needed. He wasn’t worried about anyone from outside the area coming here.
Roy sat on the porch this morning, drinking a cup of coffee and planning his day as he watched the sun slowly bringing light to the wide valley before him. He’d already been to the village market yesterday to pick up a few things, and had enjoyed the variety and freshness of everything. He’d probably head down there around noon, to get provisions for dinner this evening. Meanwhile, he had a couple of choices for today. He could unpack a few more of the books he’d had shipped here three months ago. Or he could start digging the garden. He planned to do a lot of gardening over the summer, and grow a big crop of vegetables.
This was certainly the life. At least for now. He was still having a hard time getting to sleep at night, for the ironic reason that his surroundings felt too peaceful. He was more used to having to grab whatever sleep he could in the midst of a life of extreme busyness, and having nothing but peace and quiet actually made it harder to sleep. He could tell it would take a while for his mind and body to adjust. But he suspected that his body could adjust to pretty much anything now. His mind…he wasn’t so sure of.
He realized that he was staring blankly toward the northwest. Again. As though somehow he could extend his vision – his sight regained at such a great cost – and see all the way back to Central.
Enough of that nonsense. That habit, too, would eventually change. He was sure of it. Meanwhile, he had a lot to do. The boxes, he decided. He’d unpack all those precious books he’d been wanting to read all these years, and then start in on them. This was the life.
* * * * * * *
Riza couldn’t help but be irritated with herself at her moment of weakness, the instant Alphonse had read out her father’s name. Once she’d recovered from that initial shock, thanks in part to the medical ministrations of Alphonse, she’d made few concessions to that weakness. She’d set people looking through the record of the various train routes, trying to follow the path taken by this mysterious ‘Berthold Hawkeye.’ All she did, to take further care of herself, was agree to sit behind the desk and let herself be waited on. Mei had immediately gone to fetch her some soothing tea, but she was determined to stay on the job. This search was too important. Somehow, from the very use of her father’s name, she was more certain of that than ever.
There was no valid reason why she should have fainted. It was just…hearing the name, and knowing all its associations, with her own life, with Roy’s…it was suddenly just too much, after all the worry of the previous days. There were implications here that she couldn’t even begin to guess.
But there was no doubt whatsoever that this was the name they’d been looking for, whatever Roy’s motivation for using it. ‘Berthold’ wasn’t a common name to begin with, and the odds against having that name combined with the surname ‘Hawkeye’ a second time were pretty high. It wasn’t a heritage name in her own family, meaning it wasn’t likely to be used again by distant cousins. And the coincidence of having an unrelated Hawkeye family use such an uncommon name was, well, just too much of a coincidence.
So this was Roy. And somehow the name that he had chosen to “comfort” him in his travels had been ‘Berthold Hawkeye’. How he could possibly take comfort from that name, after her father’s censure of his decision to join the military, and after the way the teacher’s alchemy training had been abused, she just didn’t know.
Unless… She paused at the thought. Unless he took the name because of its connection to her.
For a moment she leaned her head on her hand, closing her eyes. Oh, Roy.
“This could be harder than we thought,” Havoc commented from across the desk. He sat with several sheets of train routes spread over its surface, while most of the other occupants of the office crowded around the desk, trying to read over his shoulder or read the routes sideways or upside down. Hohenheim hung back, arms folded as he leaned one shoulder against a wall. For some reason, he was watching Riza. Perhaps to make sure she wasn’t going to faint again?
She straightened up and looked at the sheets Havoc was pointing to. “Why is that?” she asked.
“Well, it looks like he heads west, arriving in the first major city outside of Central. But even though he arrives in one place using the Hawkeye name, nobody with that name leaves.” Havoc looked up at her, eyebrows raised. “He can’t be that close, can he? Doesn’t make sense.”
“No it doesn’t,” Riza shook her head. “Which means he changed names there.”
“Great. So now we have to find out what name he bought that ticket in, to head on to West City.”
“He didn’t go to West City,” Ed said. “There’s no way he’d be that obvious.” He leaned over Havoc’s left shoulder and put a gloved finger on the map, where it kind of clanked as it landed on the city Havoc was talking about. “There’s a rail line going north from there, as well as west.” He traced it as he talked. “It goes north, then turns back east. And when it reaches here,” pointing to a large town just north of Central, “he has several choices. He could either go north, and run into one more transfer point before he’d be committed to going all the way to North City. Or he could have turned south, and actually come back through Central. Or he might have stopped at this little junction here,” pointing to a spot between Central and the next most northern town, “and taken the line that goes around Central altogether. And from there, he’d have access to lots of different jumping off places.”
“Which means,” Breda put in gloomily, “that we still don’t have a clue where he went, even if we know what name he started out with. He could still be anywhere in the entire country. Except maybe West City, which is ‘too obvious’.”
“And I’d bet my alchemy – if I still had any – that he won’t be in North City either. Or any of the stops going in that direction, because most of them are too close to Central.”
“Why don’t you think he’d be in North City, Edward?” Riza asked.
“Well, think about it,” the young man’s smile had an impish quality as he straightened up again. “This is Roy Mustang we’re talking about. The guy loves his comforts. Do you think he’s going to go off and live someplace that’s really cold most of the time?”
Riza’s wry smile accompanied a few soft chuckles in the room. She shared some knowing glances with her co-workers and bent to look at the map again. “You’re right, of course,” she agreed. “Even if he’s decided to go off by himself for some reason, there are limits. So I think we can rule out North City and most of the towns in that region. We’ll put West City lower down on the list, but I don’t think we can rule it out completely yet.”
“Because he could have doubled back,” Falman said.
“Exactly. So what does that leave us?”
“I think, Miss Hawkeye,” Hohenheim spoke from his position against the wall, “that there are some things you need to keep in mind.”
All heads turned toward him, but his gaze remained fixed on her. “And what things are those?” she asked.
“His choice of destination – permanent or temporary – will probably depend on similar factors to his choice of names. He may actually have thought he was picking some random place to go to. But my guess is that there will be subconscious reasons for any choice he makes.”
Ed turned to look at his father, frowning thoughtfully. “So he might go to places that are significant to him, the same way he picked his names?”
“It’s possible,” the man nodded. “Or he could choose somewhere as far away as possible from those places. He sees where he most wants to go, and feels he has to go in the opposite direction.”
The room fell silent for a long moment as everyone pondered this angle. Finally, Fuery looked from Hohenheim to Riza, brows drawn together. “But that’s just the problem,” he murmured. “I can’t think of anywhere he would think was that special to him. Not a single place. Can any of you?”
A loud banging on the door seemed to signify a reply. “Riza Hawkeye!” came a muffled voice. “I know you’re in there! Let me in!”
“Who the hell -- ?” Ed began, but Riza stood up.
“It’s General Armstrong,” she said. “Somebody let her in please.”
The contrast between Mei, who opened the door, and Olivia Armstrong, who towered at least three times higher than the girl, was so arresting that at first nobody could speak. But Riza finally stirred herself and said as courteously as she could manage, “To what do we owe this visit, General?”
Olivia ducked to avoid scraping her head on the top doorframe, and strode into the room. “Don’t give me the innocent act, Hawkeye. I want to know what trouble Mustang has gotten himself into this time.”
The reaction would have been almost comical if they hadn’t all been so worried. To a man, all of Mustang’s former subordinates, including Ed and Al, instantly adopted almost the identical bland, noncommittal expression. They were all well practiced at this, after all, given their years of subterranean conspiracy.
Riza answered mildly, “I’m not sure what you mean, General. The former Commander is in the middle of his well-deserved vacation.”
“Is he now. And that’s why you’ve had people skulking all over town asking about him, is it?”
A long pause as every eye in the room watched Riza. She frowned, as though puzzled, and remarked, “General, I really don’t know what you’re talking about. We’ve been conducting an investigation, yes, but it has nothing to do with Commander Mustang. Except as it relates to certain alchemists we’re looking for. And that is connected with our work of reassignment. Which the Commander – former Commander – will be consulting on when he returns in a few days.”
Olivia snorted in disbelief. “That’s not what my informants tell me.”
“Then I believe your informants are mistaken or misled. And might I inquire, General, if you plan to make it a practice to waste personnel following us from now on? I’d think you have more than enough to do, taking care of genuine military matters.”
“Believe it or not, Hawkeye, but I’m almost as interested in keeping Roy Mustang alive as you are. He still has enemies, you know, no matter what good he’s done in the last few years. I wanted to assign him bodyguards, but he wouldn’t let me. So when my people – who are already on the ground, gathering information for other reasons – start to hear everywhere they go that somebody is looking very hard for Mustang, I’m going to hear about it. Keep your secrets if you want to – but we both know that this is a man who can get into trouble in ten minutes, let alone ten vacation days.” The woman might have had more to say, but she glanced briefly aside and suddenly stopped. “You,” she said to Hohenheim with a dark frown. “What are you doing here? You’re dead.”
He smiled. He still hadn’t moved from his position, leaning cross-armed against the wall. “I’m afraid news of my death was a bit of misinformation too, General Armstrong.”
She snorted. “It figures. But since you seem to have survived the battles five years ago, tell me – are you even able to die? From everything I’ve heard, you’d been around a very long time, even before we brought Father down.”
Hohenheim shrugged. “As far as I know – I’m not. At least, nothing has managed it yet. Not even Father and his monstrous creations.”
Olivia shook her head. “I can’t imagine it. I don’t know how you manage such a life. I wouldn’t want to live forever.” She was only slightly taller than he was, Riza suddenly realized. The other woman regarded him again for a silent moment, her ice blue eyes narrowed in speculation. “So why are you here?” she demanded at length.
Hohenheim shrugged again. “No particular reason,” he said. “I was visiting Ed in Risemboul, and decided on a whim to come with him when he came to see Alphonse.”
Again the silent stare. “You,” said Olivia Armstrong, “never do anything on a whim. That’s another thing I know about you.”
Riza glanced at the man, frowning. But the General had already dismissed him from her concern. She turned on her heel and headed back toward the door. “All right, Hawkeye,” she said over her shoulder. “Don’t tell me anything, if you don’t want to.” She paused halfway through the doorway, one hand on the doorknob, and looked back. “But when you do find where he’s gone,” she said, “let me know, and I’ll get you an express train.” And with that, she was gone, the door closing firmly behind her.
“What was that,” Fuery muttered. “A hurricane?”
Havoc emitted a long, low whistle. “Well, I’ll be. She actually wants to help.”
Breda went to the door and locked it again. “I’m still not used to being in the military any more. Maybe we don’t have to worry about her as much as we used to.”
“I’m not sure I’d go that far,” Havoc said, “but we might be able to cooperate a little more now.” He glanced across the desk and frowned. “Hawkeye? Something wrong?” He followed her gaze to Hohenheim, who remained as he was, gazing back at them impassively.
You never do anything on a whim.
So what was he doing here, exactly?
Riza dragged her eyes away and looked back at the map. There was no time for that kind of speculation. They still had work to do. “All right,” she said briskly. “Where were we? We had eliminated North City and put West City on the back burner – oh, what now?” she cried in exasperation as the phone rang. “I told the girl to hold all calls for the rest of the day.”
“Relax, relax,” Havoc said. “I’ll scare them off. You just sit down and have a drink of tea.”
To her own surprise, Riza did as he suggested while he picked up the phone. She sat down and took a long sip of tea, trying to calm her jangled nerves. She didn’t like feeling so out of control. Damn the man, for doing this to her! And damn her, for caring so much.
“Sorry,” Havoc said into the phone, “you’ll have to tell them that Miss Hawkeye is – what?” He paused, listening, and his eyes flew to Riza’s face. “I see. Yes, I understand. Okay, make the transfer. I’ll get her.” He lowered the phone and held it out, across the desk, saying quietly, “Apparently it’s someone who says they know where he is.”
He couldn’t believe how unsettled he felt today. After his good day of gardening yesterday, he had tried to sit down on the porch this morning with one of his books. The day was promising to be sunny again, and the porch had come with a complete set of very comfortable reclining patio chairs as swell as a hanging swing. All he needed to do was put his feet up on a small stool, having his coffee on a small table beside him, and he could read to his heart’s content.
The book was a volume of alchemy studies he’d had ever since he was a student, and had never really gotten a chance to read. He always enjoyed delving into the history of his branch of science, so he’d expected to become absorbed in it for hours at a time. And under normal circumstances, he would have.
But his eyes kept straying from the page to the horizon, always lifting to the northwest. The habit, rather than dwindling away, seemed to be getting worse. And it was accompanied by a restless feeling he just couldn’t shake. It seemed he just wasn’t going to be able to settle down to read after all. So it wasn’t long before he put the book aside and went back to the big garden behind the house.
Roy had bought some tomato plants at the market yesterday. Why not plant them now?
He grabbed two sizes of spade and slid the box containing the tomato plants along the grass beside the garden plot until he got to the back row, a place that was guaranteed to get a lot of sunshine. He dug a hole and carefully lowered the small root ball of the fledgling plant into it, patting soil around it to steady it. Another couple of feet, and another plant. He worked his way down the row until all the plants had been put in place.
By now he had reached the fence that faced east. He stood there for a while, looking across the valley.
I wonder how she’s enjoying running the new department.
Roy’s heart jerked and his hands convulsively gripped the top railing of the wooden fence. He leaned on it, bowing his head and trying to marshal his thoughts. He just had to stop thinking about the people back home!
No – not home! Not any more. Why couldn’t he get that through his head? He didn’t belong there any more. If he belonged anywhere at all now – which was doubtful – it was here. He had to make it so, for his own sanity.
And yet…he just couldn’t stop thinking about them. Wondering how they were doing. Wondering if Jean was upset at having become a home owner so suddenly. Wondering if any of them missed the military.
Wondering…if she hated him. That was the hardest thought of all. And yet it was probably better if she did. Because somehow – somehow – he had to find a way to make this a permanent break.
And find a way to live with it.
“Ah, so this is where you’ve gotten to,” came a voice to one side of him, closer to the house. “I wondered why you didn’t hear us knocking.”
Roy turned, slowly, the dread a heavy weight in his stomach. And saw, standing in the sunlight, her hands planted firmly on her hips, Pinako Rockbell. And behind her, just stepping off the steps of the back porch, Winry Rockbell, bouncing a seven-month old baby on one arm.
(Continue to Chapter 4)
Spring had completely taken hold here. For the past couple of mornings, Roy had stepped onto his front porch and just breathed. You could almost smell everything growing within an inch of its life. There was a small lake to the north, and the humidity travelled down to this area, bounded and prevented from moving east by that ridge across a low valley behind the house. This little cottage he’d bought several months ago was situated in a good position: on a hill from which he could view the valley and the ridge behind, and a gentler valley in front of the house that widened slowly toward a row of hills a few miles away to the west.
Behind him, slightly to the northeast, lay Ishbal, just a short distance away with its heat and its desert. Fascinating, what a couple of high ridges did to block the means of turning that land into as lush a region as this was. And before him, across a small rocky river and over those green hills just a bit southeast, was Risemboul.
But both places might as well have been thousands of miles away, for all the contact he would have. The road that slashed through the eastern ridge ran closer to the lake, and you’d have to travel back west along it for quite a ways before you’d run into the overgrown track that led south to the village at the bottom of his hill. And the road through the western hills, toward Risemboul, wasn’t frequently travelled even if it was in better condition. The village below his house relied on the surrounding farms and orchards for almost everything it needed. He wasn’t worried about anyone from outside the area coming here.
Roy sat on the porch this morning, drinking a cup of coffee and planning his day as he watched the sun slowly bringing light to the wide valley before him. He’d already been to the village market yesterday to pick up a few things, and had enjoyed the variety and freshness of everything. He’d probably head down there around noon, to get provisions for dinner this evening. Meanwhile, he had a couple of choices for today. He could unpack a few more of the books he’d had shipped here three months ago. Or he could start digging the garden. He planned to do a lot of gardening over the summer, and grow a big crop of vegetables.
This was certainly the life. At least for now. He was still having a hard time getting to sleep at night, for the ironic reason that his surroundings felt too peaceful. He was more used to having to grab whatever sleep he could in the midst of a life of extreme busyness, and having nothing but peace and quiet actually made it harder to sleep. He could tell it would take a while for his mind and body to adjust. But he suspected that his body could adjust to pretty much anything now. His mind…he wasn’t so sure of.
He realized that he was staring blankly toward the northwest. Again. As though somehow he could extend his vision – his sight regained at such a great cost – and see all the way back to Central.
Enough of that nonsense. That habit, too, would eventually change. He was sure of it. Meanwhile, he had a lot to do. The boxes, he decided. He’d unpack all those precious books he’d been wanting to read all these years, and then start in on them. This was the life.
* * * * * * *
Riza couldn’t help but be irritated with herself at her moment of weakness, the instant Alphonse had read out her father’s name. Once she’d recovered from that initial shock, thanks in part to the medical ministrations of Alphonse, she’d made few concessions to that weakness. She’d set people looking through the record of the various train routes, trying to follow the path taken by this mysterious ‘Berthold Hawkeye.’ All she did, to take further care of herself, was agree to sit behind the desk and let herself be waited on. Mei had immediately gone to fetch her some soothing tea, but she was determined to stay on the job. This search was too important. Somehow, from the very use of her father’s name, she was more certain of that than ever.
There was no valid reason why she should have fainted. It was just…hearing the name, and knowing all its associations, with her own life, with Roy’s…it was suddenly just too much, after all the worry of the previous days. There were implications here that she couldn’t even begin to guess.
But there was no doubt whatsoever that this was the name they’d been looking for, whatever Roy’s motivation for using it. ‘Berthold’ wasn’t a common name to begin with, and the odds against having that name combined with the surname ‘Hawkeye’ a second time were pretty high. It wasn’t a heritage name in her own family, meaning it wasn’t likely to be used again by distant cousins. And the coincidence of having an unrelated Hawkeye family use such an uncommon name was, well, just too much of a coincidence.
So this was Roy. And somehow the name that he had chosen to “comfort” him in his travels had been ‘Berthold Hawkeye’. How he could possibly take comfort from that name, after her father’s censure of his decision to join the military, and after the way the teacher’s alchemy training had been abused, she just didn’t know.
Unless… She paused at the thought. Unless he took the name because of its connection to her.
For a moment she leaned her head on her hand, closing her eyes. Oh, Roy.
“This could be harder than we thought,” Havoc commented from across the desk. He sat with several sheets of train routes spread over its surface, while most of the other occupants of the office crowded around the desk, trying to read over his shoulder or read the routes sideways or upside down. Hohenheim hung back, arms folded as he leaned one shoulder against a wall. For some reason, he was watching Riza. Perhaps to make sure she wasn’t going to faint again?
She straightened up and looked at the sheets Havoc was pointing to. “Why is that?” she asked.
“Well, it looks like he heads west, arriving in the first major city outside of Central. But even though he arrives in one place using the Hawkeye name, nobody with that name leaves.” Havoc looked up at her, eyebrows raised. “He can’t be that close, can he? Doesn’t make sense.”
“No it doesn’t,” Riza shook her head. “Which means he changed names there.”
“Great. So now we have to find out what name he bought that ticket in, to head on to West City.”
“He didn’t go to West City,” Ed said. “There’s no way he’d be that obvious.” He leaned over Havoc’s left shoulder and put a gloved finger on the map, where it kind of clanked as it landed on the city Havoc was talking about. “There’s a rail line going north from there, as well as west.” He traced it as he talked. “It goes north, then turns back east. And when it reaches here,” pointing to a large town just north of Central, “he has several choices. He could either go north, and run into one more transfer point before he’d be committed to going all the way to North City. Or he could have turned south, and actually come back through Central. Or he might have stopped at this little junction here,” pointing to a spot between Central and the next most northern town, “and taken the line that goes around Central altogether. And from there, he’d have access to lots of different jumping off places.”
“Which means,” Breda put in gloomily, “that we still don’t have a clue where he went, even if we know what name he started out with. He could still be anywhere in the entire country. Except maybe West City, which is ‘too obvious’.”
“And I’d bet my alchemy – if I still had any – that he won’t be in North City either. Or any of the stops going in that direction, because most of them are too close to Central.”
“Why don’t you think he’d be in North City, Edward?” Riza asked.
“Well, think about it,” the young man’s smile had an impish quality as he straightened up again. “This is Roy Mustang we’re talking about. The guy loves his comforts. Do you think he’s going to go off and live someplace that’s really cold most of the time?”
Riza’s wry smile accompanied a few soft chuckles in the room. She shared some knowing glances with her co-workers and bent to look at the map again. “You’re right, of course,” she agreed. “Even if he’s decided to go off by himself for some reason, there are limits. So I think we can rule out North City and most of the towns in that region. We’ll put West City lower down on the list, but I don’t think we can rule it out completely yet.”
“Because he could have doubled back,” Falman said.
“Exactly. So what does that leave us?”
“I think, Miss Hawkeye,” Hohenheim spoke from his position against the wall, “that there are some things you need to keep in mind.”
All heads turned toward him, but his gaze remained fixed on her. “And what things are those?” she asked.
“His choice of destination – permanent or temporary – will probably depend on similar factors to his choice of names. He may actually have thought he was picking some random place to go to. But my guess is that there will be subconscious reasons for any choice he makes.”
Ed turned to look at his father, frowning thoughtfully. “So he might go to places that are significant to him, the same way he picked his names?”
“It’s possible,” the man nodded. “Or he could choose somewhere as far away as possible from those places. He sees where he most wants to go, and feels he has to go in the opposite direction.”
The room fell silent for a long moment as everyone pondered this angle. Finally, Fuery looked from Hohenheim to Riza, brows drawn together. “But that’s just the problem,” he murmured. “I can’t think of anywhere he would think was that special to him. Not a single place. Can any of you?”
A loud banging on the door seemed to signify a reply. “Riza Hawkeye!” came a muffled voice. “I know you’re in there! Let me in!”
“Who the hell -- ?” Ed began, but Riza stood up.
“It’s General Armstrong,” she said. “Somebody let her in please.”
The contrast between Mei, who opened the door, and Olivia Armstrong, who towered at least three times higher than the girl, was so arresting that at first nobody could speak. But Riza finally stirred herself and said as courteously as she could manage, “To what do we owe this visit, General?”
Olivia ducked to avoid scraping her head on the top doorframe, and strode into the room. “Don’t give me the innocent act, Hawkeye. I want to know what trouble Mustang has gotten himself into this time.”
The reaction would have been almost comical if they hadn’t all been so worried. To a man, all of Mustang’s former subordinates, including Ed and Al, instantly adopted almost the identical bland, noncommittal expression. They were all well practiced at this, after all, given their years of subterranean conspiracy.
Riza answered mildly, “I’m not sure what you mean, General. The former Commander is in the middle of his well-deserved vacation.”
“Is he now. And that’s why you’ve had people skulking all over town asking about him, is it?”
A long pause as every eye in the room watched Riza. She frowned, as though puzzled, and remarked, “General, I really don’t know what you’re talking about. We’ve been conducting an investigation, yes, but it has nothing to do with Commander Mustang. Except as it relates to certain alchemists we’re looking for. And that is connected with our work of reassignment. Which the Commander – former Commander – will be consulting on when he returns in a few days.”
Olivia snorted in disbelief. “That’s not what my informants tell me.”
“Then I believe your informants are mistaken or misled. And might I inquire, General, if you plan to make it a practice to waste personnel following us from now on? I’d think you have more than enough to do, taking care of genuine military matters.”
“Believe it or not, Hawkeye, but I’m almost as interested in keeping Roy Mustang alive as you are. He still has enemies, you know, no matter what good he’s done in the last few years. I wanted to assign him bodyguards, but he wouldn’t let me. So when my people – who are already on the ground, gathering information for other reasons – start to hear everywhere they go that somebody is looking very hard for Mustang, I’m going to hear about it. Keep your secrets if you want to – but we both know that this is a man who can get into trouble in ten minutes, let alone ten vacation days.” The woman might have had more to say, but she glanced briefly aside and suddenly stopped. “You,” she said to Hohenheim with a dark frown. “What are you doing here? You’re dead.”
He smiled. He still hadn’t moved from his position, leaning cross-armed against the wall. “I’m afraid news of my death was a bit of misinformation too, General Armstrong.”
She snorted. “It figures. But since you seem to have survived the battles five years ago, tell me – are you even able to die? From everything I’ve heard, you’d been around a very long time, even before we brought Father down.”
Hohenheim shrugged. “As far as I know – I’m not. At least, nothing has managed it yet. Not even Father and his monstrous creations.”
Olivia shook her head. “I can’t imagine it. I don’t know how you manage such a life. I wouldn’t want to live forever.” She was only slightly taller than he was, Riza suddenly realized. The other woman regarded him again for a silent moment, her ice blue eyes narrowed in speculation. “So why are you here?” she demanded at length.
Hohenheim shrugged again. “No particular reason,” he said. “I was visiting Ed in Risemboul, and decided on a whim to come with him when he came to see Alphonse.”
Again the silent stare. “You,” said Olivia Armstrong, “never do anything on a whim. That’s another thing I know about you.”
Riza glanced at the man, frowning. But the General had already dismissed him from her concern. She turned on her heel and headed back toward the door. “All right, Hawkeye,” she said over her shoulder. “Don’t tell me anything, if you don’t want to.” She paused halfway through the doorway, one hand on the doorknob, and looked back. “But when you do find where he’s gone,” she said, “let me know, and I’ll get you an express train.” And with that, she was gone, the door closing firmly behind her.
“What was that,” Fuery muttered. “A hurricane?”
Havoc emitted a long, low whistle. “Well, I’ll be. She actually wants to help.”
Breda went to the door and locked it again. “I’m still not used to being in the military any more. Maybe we don’t have to worry about her as much as we used to.”
“I’m not sure I’d go that far,” Havoc said, “but we might be able to cooperate a little more now.” He glanced across the desk and frowned. “Hawkeye? Something wrong?” He followed her gaze to Hohenheim, who remained as he was, gazing back at them impassively.
You never do anything on a whim.
So what was he doing here, exactly?
Riza dragged her eyes away and looked back at the map. There was no time for that kind of speculation. They still had work to do. “All right,” she said briskly. “Where were we? We had eliminated North City and put West City on the back burner – oh, what now?” she cried in exasperation as the phone rang. “I told the girl to hold all calls for the rest of the day.”
“Relax, relax,” Havoc said. “I’ll scare them off. You just sit down and have a drink of tea.”
To her own surprise, Riza did as he suggested while he picked up the phone. She sat down and took a long sip of tea, trying to calm her jangled nerves. She didn’t like feeling so out of control. Damn the man, for doing this to her! And damn her, for caring so much.
“Sorry,” Havoc said into the phone, “you’ll have to tell them that Miss Hawkeye is – what?” He paused, listening, and his eyes flew to Riza’s face. “I see. Yes, I understand. Okay, make the transfer. I’ll get her.” He lowered the phone and held it out, across the desk, saying quietly, “Apparently it’s someone who says they know where he is.”
* * * * * * *
He couldn’t believe how unsettled he felt today. After his good day of gardening yesterday, he had tried to sit down on the porch this morning with one of his books. The day was promising to be sunny again, and the porch had come with a complete set of very comfortable reclining patio chairs as swell as a hanging swing. All he needed to do was put his feet up on a small stool, having his coffee on a small table beside him, and he could read to his heart’s content.
The book was a volume of alchemy studies he’d had ever since he was a student, and had never really gotten a chance to read. He always enjoyed delving into the history of his branch of science, so he’d expected to become absorbed in it for hours at a time. And under normal circumstances, he would have.
But his eyes kept straying from the page to the horizon, always lifting to the northwest. The habit, rather than dwindling away, seemed to be getting worse. And it was accompanied by a restless feeling he just couldn’t shake. It seemed he just wasn’t going to be able to settle down to read after all. So it wasn’t long before he put the book aside and went back to the big garden behind the house.
Roy had bought some tomato plants at the market yesterday. Why not plant them now?
He grabbed two sizes of spade and slid the box containing the tomato plants along the grass beside the garden plot until he got to the back row, a place that was guaranteed to get a lot of sunshine. He dug a hole and carefully lowered the small root ball of the fledgling plant into it, patting soil around it to steady it. Another couple of feet, and another plant. He worked his way down the row until all the plants had been put in place.
By now he had reached the fence that faced east. He stood there for a while, looking across the valley.
I wonder how she’s enjoying running the new department.
Roy’s heart jerked and his hands convulsively gripped the top railing of the wooden fence. He leaned on it, bowing his head and trying to marshal his thoughts. He just had to stop thinking about the people back home!
No – not home! Not any more. Why couldn’t he get that through his head? He didn’t belong there any more. If he belonged anywhere at all now – which was doubtful – it was here. He had to make it so, for his own sanity.
And yet…he just couldn’t stop thinking about them. Wondering how they were doing. Wondering if Jean was upset at having become a home owner so suddenly. Wondering if any of them missed the military.
Wondering…if she hated him. That was the hardest thought of all. And yet it was probably better if she did. Because somehow – somehow – he had to find a way to make this a permanent break.
And find a way to live with it.
“Ah, so this is where you’ve gotten to,” came a voice to one side of him, closer to the house. “I wondered why you didn’t hear us knocking.”
Roy turned, slowly, the dread a heavy weight in his stomach. And saw, standing in the sunlight, her hands planted firmly on her hips, Pinako Rockbell. And behind her, just stepping off the steps of the back porch, Winry Rockbell, bouncing a seven-month old baby on one arm.
(Continue to Chapter 4)
