An unwelcoming wind and a sunless gray sky mark winter over the eastern countryside of Amestris. It is noon when the Amestris Express arrives at Cameron, completing its only trip to this town for the day. Children welcome parents home from their business trips, while young men and women greet their lovers or their siblings after a semester away at university. Cameron is a small town with not many visitors from elsewhere, and its townsfolk a people with little reason to leave or come home on a regular schedule.

Roy Mustang is an exception to all these things. As he alights the train, he shivers even under his thick clothes, which had kept him comfortably warm in Central but offer little protection here. He expects no welcome upon his arrival, having received no response for his letter to old Master Hawkeye despite mailing it out two weeks ago. Perhaps the time away from his mentor had dampened their relationship.

Perhaps it was where you'd gone, and what you've become. Roy impatiently shakes the voice out of his head.

He has to blink and look closer when he sees a familiar face in the crowd. Three long years could change so much, after all, but there was no mistaking her, not even from afar—not even after all that time away.

"Riza!"

Roy struggles in dragging his luggage even through the rather light crowd in the train station. She turns left and right, her purpose here clearly far more urgent than Roy's arrival. Still, he calls to Riza, hurrying until he is merely five feet in front of her, and it is only then that she finally notices him. She takes a long pause, and a look of mildly pleasant surprise dawns on her as she blinks at him.

"Roy—Mr. Mustang?"

"It's still just me, Riza," says Roy, breaking into a smile. "No need to be so formal."

"I wasn't expecting you! It's been three years, hasn't it?"

"Yeah. I guess you didn't get my letter, then?"

"Letter?" Riza frowns in thought, then shakes her head. "I must've missed it. Things have been busy lately."

"I see."

Riza continues looking around, her face now far more worried than it had just been. Roy follows suit. "What brings you here today? Are you meeting someone?"

An uncomfortable pause. She looks up at him, and he is immediately taken back to his years in the Hawkeye manor, learning alchemy for the first time. Occasions this grave were thankfully rare, but he has seen this expression on Riza before. Berthold Hawkeye, never of great health, had always needed much attention and care from his poor young daughter. She was an only child and motherless, and now appearing much more mature than one would be at what Roy guesses to be sixteen.

"Father," she says quietly. "He's gotten much worse."

"You're expecting a doctor."

Riza nods, and they both turn towards the crowd, significantly much thinner now that most of Roy's fellow passengers have met up with their loved ones and gone home. He tries to approach a few but is either brushed off or dissuaded by Riza, who seems to recognize some of them. Soon, the last of the crowd passes them by, and Roy and Riza are left with only their fallen hopes.

"They're not here."

Roy places a gentle, comforting hand on her back. He watches her as she turns her eyes to the ground, no doubt holding back tears. Here he realizes the gravity of the situation, as even in the worst turns of her father's health in the past, he had never seen Riza cry, or even come close to it. A grim resolve takes hold of Roy. His idea would displease Master Hawkeye, but if he is to be any help, he must suppress the anxiety it gives him.

"I know people who can help the old master." He pauses hesitantly, then sighs. "But I'll need to talk to him first before they can come."

Riza's shoulders then freeze with tension, rather than relaxing with relief. Roy doesn't miss that moment of realization, and he almost wishes that he hadn't suggested the idea. Sure enough, when she looks up, her expression is stern and knowing. He doesn't press on any further, instead waiting with bated breath.

She nods once. "Let's go home."

Time is distorted for Riza in all sorts of ways. She hadn't truly noticed the past three years going by, having spent her time only on her studies and on her father. Her peers had all grown up quickly around her, while she hardly had room to care what life outside those two things was like. Only today has she had any real perspective or reminder of how much a person can change in three years.

She feels it in Roy, by whose presence the ride home feels much longer than the trip to the train station, and far longer than it should in such an urgent situation. At first glance, he seems only to have become more mature, and perhaps more handsome now that he has grown into his features. Having lived with him, however, Riza sees beyond his physical appearance. His posture has become more refined, and his manner of speaking more confident, firmer. Here is a young man who had often talked about his desire to work for the people, the same desire by which Riza was determined to eventually leave home; the pieces fall together easily and perfectly.

A part of Riza is heavy with apprehension. She has always known nothing could stop Roy's determination, has always somehow rooted for him in a manner that projected her own hopes for herself. However, so much time has passed and put them on different paths. She longs for the time when they had both only been dreamers, when that dream caused no complications and did not need to fight for precedence over other, more urgent matters. This was the path that time has put her on; the Roy she'd last seen is on a different one from the Roy sitting with her here.

The view outside has turned barren as they reach the outskirts of town, where often, only horse-drawn carriages are willing to make a trip. Riza hardly has time to feel the weight of their nearness to her home when she realizes the presence of an unfamiliar warmth on her fingers. Taken by surprise, she turns to find Roy absentminded as he stares out the window and as his hand rests by hers, their fingers innocuously touching.

She quickly pulls her hand back, furiously pulling up her scarf to hide her sudden blush. Roy seems to come to his senses as she does so, looking at her then at the place where their hands had been.

"Sorry," he says quickly.

In that brief moment, Riza glimpses her father's young, excitable apprentice beneath the new demeanor he has brought home with him. First she feels hope, and then a wistful longing. Even his hands have changed.

She sighs quietly. "Father wouldn't approve."

Roy's composure fails him again; he blinks as rapidly as his cheeks turn red. But Riza does not notice this as she takes his hand, deliberately this time, examining his palm with her fingers in remembrance of how he had first met her father at their home many years ago.

"You, joining the military." She hears Roy's heavy, understanding breath. "Your hands are much rougher now; I'm sure you've worked as hard as Father would've wanted you to. But it all happened in military training. You know how Father has always felt about them."

Riza lets go of Roy's hand; he smiles sadly. "I know. That's why I never told him where I was going when I left."

"You never told me, either."

Their eyes meet, and she can see many things going on in Roy's. There is apology, defeat, empathy—things Riza has no need for. He shakes his head, his shoulders rising and falling tensely. "I didn't know any greater way I could put my alchemy to good use. There's so much I could do as a State Alchemist."

"My father has done much on his own, by teaching you." She turns away, in part to hide the small tears dotting the corners of her eyes. Riza doesn't mean to sound accusatory; she doesn't even know if she does. She rarely feels this kind of despair, the kind that sends uncomfortable pangs to the skin on her back, where she holds her father's secrets. "He'd sooner die than be allied with the military."

"But that might be the only way we can help him right now. We can take care of him, give him better services. At least let me talk to him, Riza, please."

Riza faces him again. She can't imagine just how much disdain Roy would face once he arrives at the Hawkeye manor, removes his coat, and reveals his new military uniform to her father. Still, she is certain that this is the sincerest he has been since they met at the train station—and she has struggled far too long to refuse any help for her father. Riza nods.

Soon, the Hawkeye manor appears over the hill. Riza breathes deeply, and she hears Roy do the same. They share a glance. For yet another moment, she sees the younger Roy she had known from three or so years ago, and this time, her younger self with him. They briefly grasp each other's hand, bracing themselves for their return to the harsh reality of the present.