Roy looked up at her, meeting her cold eyes. She was hulking to him even though he was fifteen and supposed to be 'growing like a weed'. What a load of bullshit. He'd barely grown all summer; his head almost barely reached the underside of her breasts. He tried to keep his stare as passive and peaceful as possible, until he remembered that with this woman that was damn near impossible.

"You want what, Roy Mustang?" her voice as gruff as ever and with the smell of smoke, alcohol and perfume surrounding her Roy fought the urge to fling himself down and accept defeat. He had never seen eye to eye with Madame Christmas, hell – he had never wanted to see eye to eye with her. She was about espionage; her room upstairs was littered with an ungodly amount of spy books. She was about cunning and wits, about playing people to get what she wanted and about using her 'staff' (though Roy had quickly found out what the meaning of 'companion' had meant in these cases) to utilize people's stupidity. "Roy?" she flicked her cigarette into her ash tray and looked at him, frowning as she did so.

"I said," he could have slapped himself for how brash and bold he sounded towards the woman, "that I wanted to study alchemy." He felt more than heard her temper and nerves steel themselves and prepared himself for the fight.

"And did it ever occur to you Roy that there are no alchemy teachers here?" she exhaled harshly and put her hands on her hips, "And that alchemists are rode hard and put away wet like a common street nag?" she smirked a bit at her own joke and Roy rolled his eyes in response.

"Enough with the humor Madame," he snorted, "I get it already, it was funny the first nine times. And no – that does not stop me from wanting to learn." He bit back the retort he had formed, hoping to catch this fly with the bottle of scotch rather than honey.

"Roy," he heard her sigh and for the first time since he could really remember she sounded more maternal than she looked, "I worry about you, and I want you to grow into a man that you can be proud of. I don't want you consumed and disillusioned about what should and shouldn't be." She blinked at him and brought a calloused hand to his shoulder. "I want you to still be that child who I held, and I want you to still be the same child who I taught how to make a helluva drink." she removed her hand and slowly removed her bottle of scotch from below the counter, and two glasses. She poured the scotch into the glasses, taking a moment to savor a long sip out of the bottle.

Roy felt himself swallow the lump in his throat. The only time they had done this particular song and dance routine had been when he had asked about his parents and how they'd died. His aunt had stayed up late with him, pouring multiple glasses of the strong substance that left the burning in the back of his throat clear, and deadened his tears. Whenever Madame brought out the good scotch to share Roy knew shit was about to hit the fan.

"I don't want to learn for the Military," he offered, shrugging as he reached out for the glass. "I want to learn because it's interesting. Just in case you were worried about me traveling the world and knocking up girls." He paused, watching her eyes narrow at him.

"Antonia let you read the racier novels of mine, didn't she?" Roy shrugged, the safest answer when Madame Christmas was in one of her more 'motherly' moods.

"There's nothing else exciting to do when I'm cooped up." Truth be told he hadn't been all that cooped up. Antonia had been upstairs sick and he'd had a bit of a thing for playing the hero to attractive women. He'd merely picked a random book and started reading, stammering his way through the lewder scenes of the love interest.

"Life isn't like those novels Roy-boy." She took a swig of her drink, filling it back up as she chuckled morosely, "In reality you don't come back from the shit those guys do. You come back broken and bitter. You never survive it Roy, and being an alchemist puts a big target on your back for bad people to hurt you. You need to grow up and become a good man, not some military bastard who'd sell his soul for a penny." She paused, staring off into space across the almost empty bar, her eyes searching for something that wasn't there. They lingered on a cloaked man in the corner, her breath caught as she hacked out a cough.

"That being said," she took another sip and gestured for him to do the same. Reluctantly Roy brought the glass to his lips and took a swig, placing it back down on the oak finished bar as he waited for the strange substance to settle in the pit of his gut. "I want you to be happy Roy-boy. You're my boy and I'll always support ye and yer dumbass decisions." She sighed, fingers releasing the glass, "But the fact of the matter is we know no one whose prices are reasonable that isn't involved with the Military. Now if you can find someone crazy enough-"

The sound of footsteps stopped her short, her eyes trailing over to the cloaked figure approaching the bar.

"Sorry," a gloved hand reached up and removed the hood from over his face, revealing a man in his forties, graying and bearing spectacles, and looking utterly pleased with himself.

"Speak of the nutcase," Madame grumbled, "What do you want this time of night, Grumman?" she gave Roy a small look and then gestured to a seat on the opposite end, fetching a third glass from her cabinet. "All the girls have gone off." She poured his and nodded to the dress blues that he was wearing, "You're awful dressed up for an evening out."

"Nutcase?" he smirked, offering his glass upwards in a toast, "I like the term 'unstable' better." Grumman took a swig and placed the glass down, giving Roy a once over and nodding, "Why you've grown." Roy blinked and slowly remembered.

The nights of hiding on the stairs, looking down as a strange military man passed notes onto the indomitable Chris Mustang. The few glances and nods he received, the notes that he was given to give to his aunt. "Thank you." Roy muttered, taking another swig of his drink and pretending to be a seasoned professional, to be more grown up like the woman and commander in front of him.

"I'm gonna say it one last time Grumman, what the hell do you want?" Chris Mustang leaned over and looked into his eyes, preparing herself for any number of things. Information on another general, information on his weapons depot, information on-

"I couldn't help but nib nose and thought I heard your boy mention something about alchemy?" he grinned.

"I'm not 'her boy'!" Roy protested, realizing with a flush that the man had said that not yet taboo word alchemy.

"Roy," his aunt gave him a look that clearly read shut up and then turned to Grumman. "Enough."

"Just thought I would recommend someone," Grumman threw his hands up in defense and nodded to the elder Mustang, "as compensation for the job I neglected to pay you for."

Chris Mustang was many things: dependable, bitchy, strong, and loyal. She considered herself a better alternative than a stranger in raising her nephew because she was family and family was all you had in the end. And Roy deserved that, Roy deserved a family, every kid did and she'd be damned if Roy suffered because of his parents' death and-

All too late she realized she had made the mistake of looking into her nephews eyes and seen the hopeful look, the wide eyed curiosity and childish innocence. Aw hell she mentally grumbled.

"He's a sonofabitch and a class A asshole but he's a damn good alchemist, not associated with the Military." Grumman interjected, sensing her silence and the boy's eagerness. "I'll introduce you." He shrugged and blinked down at Roy, grinning at the hopefulness exuding off of the boy.

"Grumman," Chris warned, tapping her fingers on the bar, "What's the catch?"

He hesitated for a moment, and then laughed, "None! I'm due for a call to the bastard and I'm reminded constantly of how I keep forgetting to pay you! My god – Selene is a pusher!" he chuckled.

Roy blinked up at his aunt, then back down to the man and felt his gut twist with anxiety. Surely she wouldn't force him to stay; surely she wouldn't make him forget this. He loved being around the girls but this was alchemy! Hell, he'd dreamed of it flowing through him and around him!

With a look passed suddenly and quickly between the aunt and nephew she looked back to Grumman and nodded twice, "Go ahead," she sighed, putting her hand to her head, "Go ahead and tell him Roy-boy,"

"But leave out the 'boy' part of that name." Roy interjected, eyeing his aunt with a small, almost insincere glare.

"Is interested," she continued unfazed, "And Grumman?" she pointed to the door, "Get out and do it ASAP or Selene will be the least of your worries." A look that Roy couldn't place passed between the two, a look that foretold of a long conversation that they would have over four or five bottles of scotch. Grumman hastily exited with a small salute and chuckle, his lips pursing to whistle nonchalantly as he left. Roy looked to his aunt who looked exhausted.

"Madame?" He put his hand out on the bar, gently touching hers, "I promise I'll be okay." He smiled, "I'll become a good man."

With a small, almost microscopic smile Chris Mustang looked at her nephew and grasped his hand, "I know," she whispered. "Now up to bed!" she barked, sending him off with a flick of her hand and sighing as he disappeared up the steps.

Chris Mustang took another swig of her scotch and then looked over to Roy's glass, still over halfway full and with another sigh took it and chocked it down. Sometimes she couldn't fathom why she had taken in the boy, why she had put up with his antics and blatant obstinacy. But one look at his face, glowing with happiness had reminded her of the toddler she had been handed at the coroners office. The toddler who in a place so dim and dark had found something (God only knew what) to smile at and call her 'Auntie Christmas' because 'Aunt Chris' was simply too boring to say. Family was all you had in the end, and it was worth it to see them happy. The nervous sweat from Roy's palm that had lain across her own was proof of that.

"There's a boy who's looking for an alchemist." Grumman growled out. "I've already pointed them your direction so don't say no because it's not an answer."

"That's for me to decide," the hoarse, low voice reminded Grumman of the other reason he had called.

"How is she?" he slumped in his chair, momentarily forgetting about the Mustang boy and instead switching topics.

A tense moment of silence passed between the two until the absent man spoke. "She's sleeping," a small sound crackled the phone line and the voice cracked; "I wish you would quit calling."

"And I wish I would get to know my granddaughter but we both know that won't happen." Grumman spat out, "And as for the boy you will at least meet with him and map him out. If he doesn't suit your standards maybe his presence will do her some good."

"I don't take orders from you, Colonel." The voice on the phone spat out, his voice echoing for a few moments.

"You will take this one Berthold, otherwise I will come down there and collect her myself." Grumman gritted his teeth, "You expect an assistant, and here I am- offering one to you- but you refuse." Grumman snarled, "I have never agreed or even liked you but I put up with you because of that little girl and because like it or not my daughter loved you." Exhaling sharply Grumman waited.

"I'll give him one month," Berthold breathed after a long moment, "One month and if he gets along all right I'll take him on seriously."

"Good, I'll bring him by."

"No," Berthold breathed, "He'll find us by himself, send him by. Consider it an entrance exam." With a click Hawkeye hung up the phone and Grumman gently put his down.

Gently he picked up his picture off of his desk, gently running fingers against the face in it. A little girl, no more than seven or eight was sitting peacefully on a swing, her face lit up and her blond hair scattered everywhere. Maybe that was why on this yearly call he had spoken on the boy's behalf, the way his face lit up reminded him of Riza's, reminded him of how his granddaughter would be if she was ever allowed to be a child.

And maybe, secretly in the depths of his heart, Grumman hoped and prayed that Roy Mustang would be nothing but a pain in the ass for his son-in-law.

"And you be good," Madame combed his hair back and frowned, "I don't want them sending your sorry ass back here because you screwed up." Roy frowned up at her and pulled away. She grumbled something about Grumman being a shyster for not being there.

"Like I ever do!" he grasped his bag handle as hard as possible and nodded towards the train, "It's leaving so I'm gonna head on out." He gave her a wry smile, "I'll come back just so that I can rub my alchemy in your face." With a final grin he jumped on board the train, pausing momentarily as he realized the importance of the current situation.

He was out on his own.

With a beaming smile Roy hustled over to the nearest empty compartment and sat down, happy to get this trip done and out of the way. He hoped that his bravado had been enough to convince the Madame that he didn't need Grumman with him. He wondered if she'd expect him to call when he got there. His eyes drifted shut, mouth opening with deeper breaths as the train stayed still in time.

Until the train was magically moving, shifting and whirring out protests as it gained momentum- and derailed, crashing and sending Roy flying through the window in a hail storm of glass and blood.

"Sir!" Roy jolted awake just as the first piece of glass jolted his skin and the steward jostled his shoulder. "Bad dream eh?" the man smiled a toothless grin and pointed, "We're coming up on Westshire, you don't want to miss it." The man winked and exited, leaving behind the stale air of being cooped up in a moving vehicle for three days straight.

As he stretched, Roy yawned and looked out the window, watching as the country side rolled by. Empty fields save for the few crops growing small in the spring season, or the animals wondering aimlessly about in search of food. It lacked the bustle of the city, the pressure and worries of who you might upset or bump into. He looked at the houses and found the quaintness of the farm houses more extravagant than the wealthy district, and more welcoming than the bar ever had. Yeah, Roy stood up, catching his balance and looking out the window with a giddy air; I could call this place home for a bit.

"Westshire! Westshire stop next!" the same steward's husky voice echoed through and Roy turned, marveling at how smooth the journey had been. Wincing as his sleepy limbs twitched and throbbed in unison.

With a flourish that only a Mustang could offer he flung the door open and relished in the thought of his adventure starting right here and now. With a smile in greeting to the steward, Roy ran a quick hand through his brushed back hair smoothing it out from its usual disheveled state. Madame had insisted he look presentable (as if he was anything but in everyday life). Grabbing his suitcase in the tightest grip he could manage he trudged up through the hall and up to the graying man.

"Watch yer step lad," the old man waved, catching a hold of Roy's arm to steady him as the train slowed and hitched to a stop. Throwing the small door open the steward stood aside and gently helped him out down the steps. "And you take care, ye hear?" the man waved and without another word slid the door shut as Roy gingerly walked away.

If the sight of the lazy fields and country air had given him a new hope then it held no candle to the smell of a lazy spring day. The gentle breeze brought scents of flowers, grain, and lacked the foul scent of factories and city life. Roy stood still for a moment, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath, tasting the newfound freedom that he had immersed himself in and soon reluctantly opened his eyes.

The train station was a sparse platform, decorated by only a plain wooden bench and some sort of shrubbery that through lack of attention had begun to sprawl onto the staircase. With the crackling of steps and branches under every footfall Roy reached a free hand into his coat pocket and grasped the thin piece of paper that lay there. Pulling it out and allowing an exasperating sigh to pass across his lips, Roy held it up and read the directions, hoping and praying that someone would know where the 'Hawkeye home' was.

Which only begged one question in Roy's mind: What kind of name was 'Hawkeye'?

Taking in another deep breath of the fresh air Roy made his way down the steps and onto the dirt path that seemed to stretch on for ever. With each step a small cloud of dust settled upon his pants leg and with a small scowl of disapproval Roy gave up on trying to wipe it off, instead settling himself into the repetitive pattern of looking around for any house, appreciating the countryside, and then growling at his lack of success. An hour, a freaking hour had passed and still no such luck at finding the Hawkeye's.

"What if I can't find him…?" Roy spoke to himself, "What if I don't find him, he gets someone else and I go back empty handed!" He snapped himself out of his pessimism and looked over a field. As if a godsend a huge two story farmhouse blossomed over the hill, a wrap around porch beckoning and supplying the shrill tones of children playing. Roy smiled to himself, lost in the appreciation of his future master. A family, a farm as a hobby, locked out here in the countryside with only his alchemy and loved ones.

Without a second thought Roy Mustang leapt over the wooden fence, rushing through the fields and clover, smiling widely as the wind swept into his face and his feet tripped up, throwing his young body onto the muddy ground. With a face full of dirt and his pride in a somewhat compromised state, Roy eased himself up stopping abruptly when he felt something poking at his back.

An elongated snout, wet and cold and with hot breath breaking over his jacket and warming the skin beneath.

Oh holy hell…. Roy eased up, pushing the snout up with him and turned around, staring face first into the eyes of a gargantuan bull. Bulls had horns. Cows didn't. Right? Bulls were mean, cows weren't…. right? "Good cow?" he reached up gently and patted the nose, flinching when the bull snorted and stomped its foot dangerously close to his leg. "You're such a good cow-I mean bull!" Roy tried to reason as he slowly regained his footing and prepared himself to walk away from the encounter. Regain some of the lost dignity before meeting his teacher.

The first step landed him in disaster and made him contemplate why he was here in the middle of nowhere.

As if on cue to that one step the bull snorted and launched forward, eyes fixed on the Mustang boy and attempted to bull doze him over, horns launching themselves dangerously close to his face.

At that moment any sort of bravado or courage or pride left Roy Mustang and in a flash he was sprinting, suitcase forgotten on the ground, towards the house. Feet flying he didn't risk to look behind him and see the monstrosity bearing down upon him and instead opted for sheer speed and agility rather than knowledge of his imminent death and/or mutilation.

The thundering of hoofed feet brought him back to himself and into his plight. He was running out of oxygen. With harsh, labor ridden breaths Roy nearly sobbed in relief as the fencing grew closer and the children's sharp exclamations of surprise and laughter reached his ears. As the hooves clipped the back of his heels, and breath baited on his neck Roy took a final leap of faith and lurched himself over the fence, tumbling over himself in a mock summersault and rolling a few feet, knocking the remaining wind out of himself.

"Mamma! Mamma!" the children screeched, some with laughter to his chagrin and others with a hint of worry, "Mamma!"

Roy rolled onto his back and looked up at the blue sky, batting his eyes against the waves of dizziness and oncoming headache that was sure to remind him of the bull-cow-whatever it was for a while yet to come. His breaths coming in harsh gasps that did little to replenish his oxygen.

"What is it this-" a sharp gasp and suddenly a woman came bustling into view, her long skirt wafting about her maternal frame and her face bright with concern. "Young man! Young man are you alright?" she kneeled down next to him and gently put her hand on his shoulder. "What happened?" she kept her voice low and the laughing children grew silent all too quickly.

"He almost got pummeled by Bert." A boys voice sounded, "Got te give 'im credit, he's a fast runner!" the kid allowed a chuckle to pass through him and through the group collectively.

"Watch your tongue Rory!" she turned back into Roy's field of vision and for a moment he forgot what exactly had provoked him to jump the fence and run across the field like some ax murderer in all of Madame Christmas' murder novels. "Are you alright? What's your name?" she spoke quietly and looked at his muddied coat.

Roy took a breath and blinked, finding oxygen returning to his lungs and though his legs protested running he felt them tingle with awareness. "I'm…" he breathed out, gingerly sitting up and heaving in a breath of air, "I'm Roy Mustang." He gave her a breathy smile and coughed a bit as she somewhat impatiently helped him up, dusting his pants off as she did so.

"Well Roy Mustang," she stood straight and looked down at him, "What possessed you to pick a fight with Bert?"

"With who?" he asked, cocking his head and following her arm as it pointed back towards the field. Up against the fence, eyes as peaceful as ever stood 'Bert'. A huge muscular monstrosity of brown fur, muscle and hatred that in Roy's opinion would be better served between two slices of bread then sitting in a field. "Oh…" he looked at her and smiled apologetically, "I'm terribly sorry! I just got so excited and I couldn't help myself I honestly don't know what came over me!" he ran a hand through his hair in nervousness and blinked in surprise at the children.

"Yeah mom, he's a city boy alright." The oldest boy (who Roy could only infer was Rory) spoke, "So excited to see a bull!" he cackled with laughter, his blond hair and blue eyes bobbing as he cackled in laughter.

"You got excited to see cows?" she cocked her head and blinked, "Where are you from?"

"Oh!" Roy snapped to attention and smoothed down his hair as best he could, "I'm from Central. And it wasn't your cow I was excited to see it was you all!" he smiled in greeting, "I've been so excited to finally meet you all."

"He's a bit touched in the head aint he." Roy looked down the line of unfamiliar children (god there were so many!) and stared down any potential culprits of that remark.

"Shush!" their mother snapped, looking back at Roy with her hands on her hips, waiting patiently.

"You are the Hawkeye family, right?" he winced inwardly as the stares grew blank.

"Theresa!" the sound of thumping boots from inside the house made everyone glance at the door and stare at the bearded man who emerged, "I thought I heard the cows runnin-" he stopped dead as he stared at the newcomer. "Who's this?"

"Sir, I'm Roy Mustang." Roy nodded in greeting and bit the inside of his lip as he waited. This had to be the Hawkeye family, they had a farm, a happy home….

"Okay." The man waited, quietly making his way over to stand beside his wife and looking at Roy with a curiosity behind his eyes.

"I'm your apprentice?" he offered, hoping to god there had been a mistake, he got the name wrong, they weren't expecting him to look like he did.

"What?" the man blinked and looked at Theresa, "What?"

"You're the Hawkeye's….right?" Roy wished he could go back in the field with Bert and let the stupid bull finish his work. "I met your bull Bert." He offered.

The man let out a laugh that echoed from somewhere deep inside and infected the entire family with its amusement. "Son we are many things, but we are not the Hawkeye's!" he clapped a hand on Roy's shoulder and smiled, "That who you been lookin for?"

"Hey, didn't you have a suitcase?" one of the younger girls spoke, her voice shrill yet strong.

Roy paled as he realized it was in the field with Bert the bull. "Uhm…" he blinked and cast a wary glance towards the patiently waiting killer. For a moment he debated about going back in and losing more of his pride to the bull.

"You drop it?" Theresa spoke, smiling gently and waving a hand to Roy, "Come on, you come in and get cleaned up and my husband will get your suitcase for you." She tugged on him and looked to her husband, "Go on honey," she winked, "Or are you too afraid of Bert?"

Roy didn't miss the jibe and certainly wasn't going to respond to it, he simply followed her into the house and felt the spicy air of cooking fill him. There was something about the way that the logs burned on the wood stove that reminded him of home, of the fireplaces in the bar and of reading beside Madame-

"Here's the bathroom," Theresa ushered him in, "Wipe up your face and then come out into the yard. I'm going to have Rory bring up Selene and you can help get her ready as payment for all our troubles and your travel fee. Holler if you need anythin." She smiled and laughed a little at her private joke, "Rory and Roy," she pushed him in and gently pulled the door closed, footsteps fading away into nothing.

Roy sighed and looked himself over in the mirror. This was the part in the crime novels where the family turned out to be deranged cannibals who acted all nice until they killed and ate you. He shook himself and looked into the mirror, trying to fix his appearance and wondering vaguely about what kind of beast Selene would turn out to be.

Pulling a handful of water from the bucket into his hands, Roy splashed it on his face, repeating the process until he had rid himself of the offending mud on his face and hands and had rinsed off his pants and shirt, trying to groom himself back into presentable condition. Giving his hair a disdainful pat he used another handful of water to slick it back and straighten it up, hoping that it would stay like that until the formalities with his teacher were over.

Deciding that that was about as good as it would get under the circumstances Roy hustled out of the bathroom to go help Rory, feeling a certain amount of dread at the possibility of Selene being Berts cousin once removed who had served a prison sentence and was-

A horse. Selene was a damn horse.

Roy froze on the porch as he looked at the stout, chestnut mare who tossed her head as much as the tether would allow at the flies. She wasn't tall by any means but she was muscular and looked (if the cow had been any indication) like she could win a fight with him and shatter his pride completely.

"You gonna help?" Rory remarked, grinning as he handed Roy a handful of leather. "Pa went out to get your suitcase and we need to get the old girl ready if you're wanting to get to the Hawkeye's before an ungodly hour." He looked at his own hand of leather and began to untwist it, deft hands plucking at certain straps until they were arranged to his liking.

Roy watched in a trance like state as his peer threw what looked to be a dog collar over her neck and tightened the buckles, securing it in place and tying up the other pieces of leather off of the ground and looking over at Mustang expectantly.

"C'mon. She don' bite!" he chuckled, then stared, slapping himself on the forehead, "Sorry, I forgot you probably didn't know how to harness!" he rubbed his head and shrugged, "Never been to the city, it's like a foreign country to me." He gestured for Roy to put his pile on her back.

Roy did so and fumbled alongside Rory until the flattest part was draped over her back, and a rigging with lots of open ends was on her hindquarters.

"This is the belly band," Rory pointed and handed the piece under her belly to Roy, "Tighten it to this one," as Roy did so Rory checked his work, humming in agreement when the band was tight enough and in place. Rory chuckled, checking the last of the harness and then grabbing a bridle. Putting it on Selene he handed Roy what looked to be the reins and gestured to the two metal loops, welded onto the leather. "Put them through that."

Roy slid the leather into them one side at a time and handed the ends to Rory who secured it to the bridle and looked at the horse.

"So what do you want with the Hawkeyes?" Rory asked, handing Roy the reins and darting around to the side of the house.

"I told you," Roy raised his voice slightly, but kept his eye locked on Selene, "I'm his apprentice."

"That crazy old man," he head Rory breath out sharply and come into view tugging a cart behind him, large enough for clearance over the horse visually, "don't take no apprentices." Rory laughed breathlessly, "now why did you really come here?"

"Do you need me to help?" Roy asked, watching intently as the boy shook his head and chuckled.

"Evading the question? Huh Mustang?" he brought the cart's traces over Selene and rang them through the leather rings that hung from the overall harness, securing one side to the rigging before going to the other side and doing the same, "You're a lot like old Selene here," he patted the horses neck and then stretched, as if his task had been particularly strenuous.

"How so?" Roy lifted an eyebrow and gently placed one hand on her broad forehead, gently stroking and petting the old horse.

"Well, yer both Mustangs!" Rory chuckled at his own joke and then leaned against the mare, "And yer both as dull as rocks!" he laughed outright at Roy's look of indignation and sputtering of half timed insults.

"Rory," the boy turned and smiled at the man, handing him the reins and winking.

"All yours pops! Do me a favor and make sure this Mustang gets there in one piece, he might fall outta the cart!" with a final wave at Roy, the boy walked back into the house.

"Well," the father smiled at Roy and handed him his suitcase, "you get in and put your suitcase in the back."

Roy offered a small smile and as gently as he could put his things in the back, ignoring the mud spattered suitcase and climbed gingerly in, wary of how the cart tilted at inopportune moments, and sat in his seat, watchful of the man and the horse.

More casual than Roy had been, the man clambered in and took his seat, gently pulling on the reins and directing Selene onto a dirt path and down a long and twisting lane at a brisk trot. An awkward silence ensued for a few moments as Roy struggled to find the right words to break the silence. The bumps and jolts brought him to himself and erased any words from his mind as he struggled to keep his seat and not look like a complete idiot flopping around next to his still chauffeur.

"So Roy," the man clucked to the horse and cast a short glance at the boy, "The Hawkeye's eh?"

"Yessir," Roy swallowed the tentative lump in his throat and nodded once, "I'm to apprentice with the alchemist there."

"And what do you think of Mr. Hawkeye?" Roy didn't miss the slight purse of the lips or the quirk of the eyebrow. If there was one lesson that he had always remembered from Madam Christmas, it was how to read people, and how to use that to your advantage.

"I don't know sir," Roy shrugged, "I've never met him." Roy offered a small smile, "I tend not to make judgments of people until I've met them myself."

"That's good," the older man smiled and clucked again, easing the horse into a faster trot, "And it's not sir, it's Leonard Dofter." The old man shifted the reins to one hand and extended the free one to Roy, who gladly took it and shook it as a gentleman should. Hard but not to hard, a few shakes and then done. Professional, to the point, and not demeaning to the other.

"Alright Mr. Dofter," Roy looked ahead and noticed buildings in the distance, "Where is the Hawkeye house?"

At this Dofter chuckled, "It's on the opposite end of town," he took up the reins again and nodded, "We've got a main section that's small but useful, and then on either side is farm country. You just lucked out and made the mistake of coming onto our land first." Dofter smiled.

"I hate to be a bother," Roy began to apologize, "I'm sorry for any trouble-"

"It was no trouble boy," the man smiled, "If anything it was a nice change of pace from the mundane everyday." He gave the horse more rein and chuckled as Roy blinked the wind out of his eyes.

"How long do you think it will take to get there?" he queried.

"Well," Leonard slowed Selene to a walk as the buildings grew closer and soon began to tower over them. "We've just hit the main drag so probably not more than thirty minuets more?" he halted the horse and Roy looked at him curiously, "Selene's not as young as she used ter be and needs a break bout halfway through to get her bearings." He nodded towards the buildings and took a breath, "This is where all our shops are, everything you could need and more for our small town." He smiled and seemed to relish in his home.

"Where is everyone?" Roy asked, looking around and seeing nothing but a ditch that seemed to go down quite deep. "I thought it'd be a bit more….busy."

"Just how big of a city you come from?" the man cocked his head and eased the horse back into a walk.

"I'm from Central." Roy blinked, watching the ditch intently as they walked past it.

"That explains it!" Leonard gasped, "That big of a city, only been there once but what in the world made you come out here?"

Roy looked down into the ditch and saw that in fact it was a graveyard, peaceful and tucked away in it's hiding spot. "I wanted to learn alchemy. There were no teachers around us."

"Thought Central had everything?" the man chuckled and Roy briskly turned away from the cemetery, this day was supposed to be happy even through this minor set back.

"Well, really the only alchemists around were military and they were more than hesitant to teach a kid." Roy didn't admit the fact openly that the State Alchemists were in short supply; they were far too busy and had no inclination to go back to the basics. Aside from the arrays Roy had watched drawn with so much youthful fascination the closest he had ever come to alchemy had been when he snuck into the state library only to be kicked out ten minuets later by a burly librarian.

"So you came out here to learn off of old man Hawkeye." Leonard smiled.

Roy watched as the buildings disappeared and in no time they were back into the country air.

"Bout five minuets now." He smiled, "They live within walking distance to the town, not as far out as us but a little bit of a hoof." As Selene picked back up a brisk trot Leonard seemed to grow more silent as the country side turned hilly and in the distance a two story house seemed to beckon. "That's them." He nodded.

Roy looked up at the house, and as if due to his mental urging Selene moved faster, her legs covering more ground than ever possible by Roy himself. It loomed like some haunted house would in a horror book, but as they drew closer he realized that what he had ordained as haunted and looming instead was nestled away in a field, no livestock surrounding it but the grass swaying in the wind.

As Leonard brought them up to the front door Roy looked in awe at the stature of the house. The outside was certainly not gorgeous but aside from the dilapidation it did have a charm to it.

"And here you are Roy." Leonard smirked, waiting patiently for Roy to climb out and retrieve his suitcase he waited until the boy had come to the side and thank him again before hustling off. He had no intention of being near the Hawkeye's for any longer than was necessary, lest he not come back to his family.

Roy looked up at the door and knocked, stepping back and brushing any remaining dirt off of his person. The sound of faint footsteps echoed in time with his heart and his throat tightened as they grew nearer to the door. With a subtle click the lock on the door gave way and Mustang instantly ceased his preening, squaring himself up and looking forward to greet his teacher – his master and begin his journey anew.

The short blond hair came into his view first and then, as slow as humanly possible a girl of about twelve stepped into view, her face drawn between a line of stress and annoyance.

"Can I help you?" she frowned, her hands still on the door as she eyed Roy up and down distrustfully.

"Yes, um…this is the Hawkeye house?" Roy laughed nervously.

"That would depend on who you are." The girl eyed him coldly.

"Oh!" Roy set down his suitcase with a light thud and extended his hand, "I'm Roy Mustang." He waited patiently for her hand to meet his. When it didn't he brought his back to his side and took a deep breath.

"Then, Mr. Mustang," she flashed angry brown eyes at him and gave a slight sigh in resignation of the fact that he wasn't going to turn tail and flee. "may I ask why you're here?"

He blanched for a moment and then swallowed back the lump in his throat, "You mean… you didn't know I was coming?" he frowned, "I- I'm the apprentice." He smiled reassuringly, "May I ask your name?" he hesitated for a moment and then pried, "I'm sure it's a lovely one."

"Flattery will get you no where Mr. Mustang, it did nothing to help the previous apprentices." She turned her back to him and pushed the door open wider, revealing a cobwebbed filled living room that had seen better days and a bucket filled with dirty, soapy water in the corner by the couch.

"Wait… apprentices?" Roy hesitantly followed her inside, "How many have there been before me? And is it wrong to want your name?" he grasped his suitcase harder and looked at her expectantly. He would not let a thirteen year old intimidate him.

"Oh there have been a few," she paused and turned around, a smirk on her face, "None so… civilized as yourself," she shrugged, "But there's a first for everything." She put her hands on her hips and frowned at him, "I doubt you'll stay long, Mr. Mustang." She looked up the stairs and called out, "Father! There's someone here for you!" with that she sighed and walked into a side room, leaving Roy standing in the living room and feeling utterly out of place.

Footsteps resounded from up the stairs and Roy looked up, fighting the urge to go cram himself in a corner and instead hoping that maybe, just maybe, his master would be more talkative than whoever that girl had been.