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Chapter Text

Roy never thought he would see another pair of golden eyes in his life.

The first thing Roy set his gaze on had not been the huge suit of armour, nor the little boy’s double amputation or the wheelchair, and not even the soulless look in his eyes. It had been the colour of them. 

The owner sat in a wheelchair, the gold dimmed and body small. His name was either Edward or Alphonse Elric, and he had just committed the ultimate taboo of human transmutation at just ten and eleven years old. The price was an arm and a leg, literally. Roy watched as the second pair of golden eyes he’d seen in his lifetime slowly turned to him, meeting and mixing, gold on gold, both seeing far too much at too young of an age and paying the price. 

It felt like he’d lost the ability to breathe. Seeing that kid made him choke on his tongue, cutting off oxygen to his lungs as if he’d just been punched in the gut. He might as well have, from how fast his heart dropped. 

There were plenty of Amestrians who had blond hair. It was common for people from Amestris, a genetic group that Roy had met too many times in his life to even try counting. Blond hair was not unusual. The shade of blond that boy had, however, was a rich gold colour that Roy had seen on only one other person before– it could easily be written off as just a coincidence, but… Roy was caught on his eyes. Eyes that Roy had, eyes he knew belonged to a monster. Eyes he had hoped for a split second turn into a deep brown or light blue, things he could predict easily and not have to see his damned father in. The combination of golden hair with eyes, there was no mistaking it.

All the anger he’d had at the stupidity of doing human transmutation dissipated as he studied their appearances, turning to horror. There was no way… but Roy knew it could be true.

“We went to your house. What the hell was that in your basement?!” Roy shouted, stomping closer. “Who did you try to bring back to life?!”

The kid lowered his head as the suit of armour behind him started talking. “We’re sorry. Please forgive us. We’re sorry. We’re sorry.”

Roy’s ears started to fill with ringing as he finally looked at the suit of armour; really looked. Glowing red eyes… that size for a boy who was supposedly ten or eleven… did they really..! No, but what had he traded for that splotch of black-red in the centre of the array? Could it… could it have really been that kid’s entire body? What would render a normal-appearing child to be inside a huge suit of armour other than that? Other than…

“We’re sorry.” And Roy hoped they were.

Roy didn’t have many memories of his father. 

Out of his childhood, he could remember his mother the most. Her onyx back eyes, tired eyes, gazing down with him with nothing but love. Sometimes of his aunt in the bar, wiping down the counter with a finger or barking orders at people around them. There were only faint wisps of actual memories of that man, but he was mostly creating ideas out of stories from the women in his life.

He created an idea out of his father through stories about travelling, an important reason that Roy was never let in on. Once he got older, Roy also realised that she probably also didn’t know the reason. And yet she waited.

His aunt gave him the answer some time before he pieced it together for himself. Insults and spiteful retellings, Chris would tell him to never become like his father. A deadbeat. Someone who abandoned a wife and child.

Despite the smiles, the joy, the warmth during daytime, when the sun went down, Roy could really experience how thin the walls were. At night, he knew that her smile would melt into tears.

Only when he was away. So mostly, she would cry rather than sleep.

He didn’t want to become like that man.

“Lieutenant, we’re leaving.” Roy crossed the room.

“Yes, sir.” Hawkeye stood from her place on the sofa, moving to join him. He turned to cast one final look at the Rockbell house, at that little girl sat on the cushions and watching them carefully yet curiously with those large blue eyes. 

Roy shut the door to the entryway quietly, letting his subordinate put on her greatcoat. He turned to the bulletin board of photos, stacked all on top of each other to try and fit every single one. 

“Sir?” Hawkeye called, shuffling her arm into a sleeve. Roy reached forwards at one photo during his quick glance at it, moving the top left corner out from underneath others. A lovely family photo, of the brothers when they were tiny, of the beautiful dark-haired woman with a kind smile who was their mother, and a man who held Edward. The man’s face was hidden behind the corner of another photo.

Roy didn’t need to move that photo to know what face was hidden underneath it.

He did it anyway.

And there it was. Just as he had thought it would be.

Van Hohenheim’s face. His crying face, as he held his grinning son, as his smiling wife held their youngest son in her arms. Crying, like it was a sorrowful moment. Like it wasn’t a family photo, meant to immortalise the joy of the family, of the parents holding their sons like they meant the entire world. Like they were their entire world.

Then again… Roy supposed that his sons had never been Hohenheim’s entire world. Perhaps the moment had been sorrowful to him, because he had known, deep inside his heart, that he could not care for his sons the same way any other parent did.

A little black box in his heart, where he stuffed everything he didn’t want to think about just received a new visitor. It screamed and cried at the new addition, desperately trying to escape and overtake Roy as a whole.

He let the corner of the photo fall over that face, hiding it from sight. “She seems young.”

“Yes, sir.” Hawkeye noted. The door creaked open, the two soldiers turning to see the young girl standing there with her little hand on the doorknob. 

“That’s Auntie Trisha. She was born in 1878.” The girl recited. “It says so on her grave.”

1878. Seven years.

She had been seven years older than Roy. Just seven years older. She must have also been just barely an adult when Edward and Alphonse were born. When she had gotten pregnant.

Just like Roy’s own mother.

He didn’t like that thought. “Where is her grave?”

“Why?” The girl shied away from him, but held her ground.

“To visit,” he answered, “to pay my respects to her. Someone like her deserves that much, at least.”

“Kids who become soldiers?” The girl asked. He hummed neutrally and exited the Rockbell Automail house, putting on his own watchcoat as Hawkeye chatted with the girl. He overheard that her name was Winry, and got directions to Trisha Elric’s grave.

He could see Winry, her grandmother Pinako, and Alphonse Elric in his soul-bonded suit of armour watching them drive away. Roy took his gaze off of the rearview mirror and back towards the road. 

“Is anything troubling you, sir?” Hawkeye asked. “You grew weary once you saw them.”

“Are you calling me useless, Lieutenant?” Roy bit back, but the tease didn’t land. He sighed. “They reminded me of my father. Edward Elric specifically, but Alphonse looked similar to him when he had a body.”

“The eyes, sir?” Hawkeye added. “They were nearly identical in colour to yours.”

“I know.” Roy furrowed his brows. “Probably because we’re related.”

“Sir?”

“Their father in the photo on the bulletin board is also my father.”

“...will the two of them be taking the assessment?”

“Yes, they will.”

“That boy had a spiritless look in his eyes.”

“You think so?” Roy noted. “Those were eyes that had flame in them.”

The funeral happened when Roy was seven.

They lowered his mother into the grave. His aunt was next to him.

He could remember the day clearly. Much too young to have to experience such a tragedy, and old enough to understand. A curse upon him, to be at such an age where he could really know her, be with her, love her, and yet she wouldn’t be able to for the rest of his life.

Aunt Chris was the one to take him back home, refusing to let him see the matching tears in her eyes. They went to her home rather than his, where she’d set up a room for him too. 

He could remember going through his belongings, and hers, to decide what to keep and what to leave behind. A daunting task for a seven-year-old, having to decide what he could remember her by for the rest of his life. A life that she wouldn’t be there for.

As he dug through it all, he found his father’s alchemy journals. They were deep inside the wardrobe, a place where nobody would think to look, bound and sealed shut by twine. 

As if it was the last, remaining piece of his father.

Both of them managed to leave him something; with jewellery and wallets or just a couple of journals.

Things he wouldn’t have a use for until much later. They’d died, and all he was left were items that he couldn’t use just yet. Didn’t need. Didn’t want.

So his father’s funeral was held the same day, for Roy. In his own mind.

He put those journals in a safe space, vowing on his mother that they would never open.

The first thing Roy did when he visited Central was go to his aunt’s bar.

He’d gotten the weekend off and was going to pay her a visit. The next day, he was to have lunch with the Hughes family, and then go find some of his informants. Roy also planned to pay a visit to the library, possibly find more books on alchemy. Something that could get those boy’s bodies back before they further considered joining the military. Anything to do with biological chemistry… even though Roy specialised in gases and combustion. 

His notebook was open in front of him. Little notes stared back at him. Meet Chris @ 8pm. Get chocolate for Patricia. Meet with Edelweiss and Alina in 1 week. Ms Donna could be a good person to court. Watch Mrs Lottie closely. All of his codes, staring back up. 

“Mama would be disappointed to see what became of me.” He eventually mentioned, after too many drinks, after far too long of trying to idly chatter with his aunt and her girls, the women who were essentially his sisters.

“She would.” Aunt Chris could always be trusted to say the cold, hard truth. “She never approved of the government. Of any government. What’s got you drinking yourself to death, anyways?”

Roy didn’t ask what she meant by any government. He had eventually learned, after his mother’s death, what had led to her and his aunt even being in Amestris at all. They should have been in Xing, all of them. Roy, too, should have been in Xing. They should have all been in Xing, the entire time, but they hadn’t. 

Because his mother wasn’t one to be told what to do, to be confined down by people giving her orders. Stubborn, just like him, and ready to run. Terrible qualities for a woman about to be married off. A quality that she had spread to her younger sister, Roy’s aunt, so that they could survive in a world that wasn’t going to be kind to people like them. Girls all alone, travelling without help.

According to Aunt Chris, that kind of mentality started to wear down once she met his father. That she became more subdued as she settled down with Roy and her sister, becoming a more quiet, former version of herself. That he was the one to make her like that, to make her feel worthless without him and to only get her hope and happiness out of a man that didn’t actually stay. His aunt would always get worked up when talking about it, so much that she would have to leave in order to calm herself and stop thinking about her anger towards his father and helplessness towards what Roy’s mother had to go through before her death.

The only thing she wanted to do was keep Roy from becoming like that shell. To keep him as he was, similar to his mother before she met his father. Even if he took more after his mother than his father other than the stubborn gold eyes, his personality remained like hers when she ran away. A persistent stubbornness that had a different flavour compared to Aunt Chris, and an annoying inability to follow orders. At least, they all knew that Roy could listen, but not follow.

It was a mentality like someone who wanted to become Fuhrer. Someone who would not be ordered around, but advised. A steadfast approach to the top.

“Memories came haunting me.” He drank what was left of his drink. He placed it down on the counter, staring down at it. He spun it in his hands, against the counter, slowly dragging his finger over the rim.

“Come on.” Aunt Chris leaned forwards. “Out with it. What’s up, Roy-boy?”

Roy snorted at the nickname. “You’re not going to like it.”

“Do I ever?” She raised her eyebrows. “Out with it.”

He hesitated. There was never a choice to actively hide anything from his aunt. He just knew that she would have answers, of course, but he also knew that she absolutely hated that man. But… he wanted to ask. He wanted to know. He needed to know. “What do you remember about my father?”

He watched as her expression turned cold, her eyes narrowing dangerously. Slowly, she straightened up. She reached for a glass, starting to polish it. Her movements were too slow, too calculated, to be natural. She wasn’t polishing the glass because she had to, or because she wanted to, or anything like that. She was doing it to calm herself down. She knew that she couldn't leave and go to her room to do it. Roy could only hope that that coping mechanism stays strong, for his own safety.

“What brought this on?” She asked instead of answering.

Roy really wished he had more to drink now. But it was too late to ask for another glass. “Memories.”

She paused in cleaning. He wished that she would start again. Her hands would have something to do to the glass rather than to him. She started again.

“He was an ass.” She still went to answer him, though, and Roy considered himself lucky. He was about to crack, if she continued pushing, because he knew just how terrifying she could get when she wanted to know something. He… also didn’t want to tell her about the Elric brothers. Not yet, at least. Maybe in the future, but for now, he had no intention of telling her about them. About his younger half brothers. “Was never around when your mother needed him. Not during the pregnancy, not when you were born, not even on your birthdays. Always running off somewhere, doing who knows what with who knows who.”

“You don’t know who he was with?” 

Aunt Chris snorted. “He always claimed to have been out alone.”

“You think he was cheating.”

“I don’t know.” Aunt Chris shrugged her shoulders, ignoring his words and walking away. Maybe to her room, maybe to entertain more patrons.

Roy hummed. He thought of the small town of Resembool, of a beautiful young woman just a few years older than him, now as dead as his mother. He thought of two boys with golden hair, alone, so sad and desperate for a parent that they attempted to bring their mother back from the dead.

Faithful or not, Van Hohenheim was a horrible partner and father.

There was only one train to Resembool per week.

Roy only discovered that fact as he got off, feeling the dry air around the station. Nothing had changed since he first got off six months ago, looking for two thirty-year-olds with vast alchemical knowledge. The second time, however, he was looking for two eleven-year-olds with missing parts of their bodies. 

“You again.” A man called over, hands filled with bags of wheat and a lead to some horses.

“Me again,” Roy hummed, “would you mind giving me a lift?”

So, he found himself back in the wagon he was in six months prior, heading down the same dirt path through the rolling green fields to the Elric house. The same wagon in which he learnt that his little brothers were ten, and where Hawkeye had sat with him the last time. He needed her to take control of his office during his day trip, however, so Roy made the journey alone. 

The farmer let him off at the end of the road, where he would walk the rest of the way to the houses visible in the distance. Roy took a deep breath as he knocked on the door of the Elric house, three loud raps with his knuckle against the wood to no answer.

Hm. Were they out? Roy had wanted a progress report on them, seeing as automail recovery took three years for the average person, probably years longer for children. He had another five visits planned, every half year for the next three to see where they were. If Edward or Alphonse would change their mind about the military, so that they could grow older and see that the military was only something that should be joined if a person had plans to milk it for everything it could offer.

“Ed, it’s the military!” A girl’s voice in the distance. Roy turned, hand still raised, to see her standing at the end of the dirt path to the front door. Behind her, another small figure joined.

“Hello, I’m looking for Edward and Alphonse Elric!” Roy called, boots crunching the gravel and sand as he walked back down the trail. 

“Oh, it’s you.” The small silhouette next to the girl complained.

Roy’s eyes widened. Was that Edward? He was standing?

“No need to look surprised, military man.” Edward huffed.

“You… you’re standing.” Roy managed to get out.

“So you have eyes.” Edward remarked.

“But… automail…” Roy sputtered dully.

“I promised I’d recover in a year.” Edward said, and Roy saw that spark again. That flame lit up in those golden eyes, the same one that gained its spark when Roy first explained to them what a State Alchemist would do, what it could give them. “So I’m making due on that.”

“You’re recovering well, then.” Roy adjusted his uniform. “Much better than I anticipated, Edward Elric.”

“Don’t underestimate me.” Edward growled, and the girl tugged at his sleeve. The sleeve with his steel, automail arm inside of it.

“And you, Miss Rockbell.” Roy nodded at her. “I’ll assume you’ve been taking care of him.”

She nodded. “Yes… is Ms Hawkeye here?”

“Apologies. She had to keep my office in line,” Roy sighed playfully, “it’s just me.” He turned to Edward. “Where’s your brother?”

“With granny.” Edward huffed. “Fixing some stuff.”

“Hm. I’d like to see him too.” Roy commented, “would you two lead the way?”

The girl gestured with her hand for him to follow her. Edward grumbled, leading Roy to smirk and trail behind the two. 

Edward was… impressive, to say the very least. For children to actually be able to do human transmutation, then to recover from automail surgery at such rapid speeds..! Roy couldn’t even dream of doing anything to the extent that his little brothers had done… then if they were still set on becoming State Alchemists, then Roy would have to pull more strings.

Roy had been the youngest State Alchemist in history at nineteen. Edward and Alphonse were eleven and ten, respectfully. If they actually became State Alchemists in the next two or three years, then they would still be breaking his record in a landslide. They would make history. They were already making history, with how fast Edward was recovering and the fact that Alphonse didn’t even have a body.

Even so, to make them into dogs of the military… they couldn’t accept minors into the military, unless Roy did something about it. That fire he saw in Edward’s eyes that day… the soul-flames in Alphonse’s armour… Roy knew they wouldn’t wait until they were legal adults until joining. They wanted their bodies back as soon as possible and wouldn’t stop for something as insignificant as the law (sarcasm). He’d done a bit of research; if a legal guardian signed off on it, then minors could join the military. Roy just had to see how much he could stretch that.

“So, military man…” Edward finally spoke, accusingly. “What do you do?”

“I’m a Lieutenant Colonel.” Roy answered. “And a State Alchemist.”

“That’s what you want us to be, right?”

“Yes.” Roy responded. He wasn’t going to put two kids through the military academy, and State Alchemists could pass through that section without actually attending. It would also immediately bring them up to the rank of Major, giving them a lot more freedom than what they would have gotten thirteen ranks down at the very beginning. “It gives you a lot of freedom to do as you please– in your case, get your bodies back.”

“They’ll let us do it?” Edward finally turned, his golden eyes shimmering.

“Probably a bad idea to tell them about that; seeing as it’s illegal.” Roy hummed. “But you would get access to classified sections in military libraries, along with a research fund. All you have to do is prove to them that you’re a useful asset to the military. Seeing what you’ve already done, I don’t think that would be an issue.”

“You’re a State Alchemist. What do you actually do?” Edward asked, and Roy heard the keen tone. The kid wanted to know what he was in for.

“Mostly paperwork,” Roy groaned, “which I managed to get out of today by visiting. Then, lots of us do research for the military or work on cases that have alchemy involved, for any investigative branches who don’t know alchemy. Then, there’s combat State Alchemists, who are deployed for missions involving criminals and basically being an overpowered soldier. Field State Alchemists, who scout out places and solve mysteries to do with alchemy. There’s lots of freedom for State Alchemists as long as they’re useful to the military.”

“So becoming State Alchemists is really your best bet.” Miss Rockbell pouted.

“I’ll do my best to keep you two at the research area of being a dog of the military,” Roy said firmly, “away from anything to do with combat.”

“No. We want to do combat.” Edward cut in, fists clenching. “There's only so much that research can give us– we can do that in our free time. We gotta look for a way to get our bodies back ourselves.”

Roy narrowed his eyes. “It’s dangerous.”

“What we did was dangerous, and we did it anyway.” Edward didn’t sound like a child at that moment, Roy thought offhandedly, he sounded like a war-hardened soldier. Ishval was on the horizon. 

“I won’t want you to go through anything like that again.” Roy replied fixedly. They went quiet for another couple of steps, Edward turning his head to look at Roy. Yes, the flame in his eyes was burning big and bright.

“What kinda alchemist are you, then?” Edward changed the subject.

“I work with combustion,” Roy commented, “gases. You… biology?” 

“Solids. Metal, steel, stone.” Edward answered. By then, they made it to the Rockbell residence. Where Roy had stormed to six months ago, grabbed Edward, yelled at him, and then convinced him to start being a State Alchemist. He could barely remember what he’d said back then, other than the clear: “if the possibility is there, you should move forward in order to get your bodies back. Even if the way ahead is through a river of mud.” His departing words just six months before.

They entered, and Roy looked around. The same as before. That picture he’d lifted up, those childhood photos on the bulletin board, that dog with the automail leg sleeping in a patch of sunlight, everything. The room where Edward had been sitting pathetically, moping and feeling terrible about himself. 

“Al! The military guy is back!” Edward called out, heading inside. Roy noted that his steps were awkward, with one light pad and the next being a dull thunk against wood, back and forth. He and the girl were left at the front door, Roy standing as she knelt down to pet the dog.

From further in the house, Roy heard two young voices returning, along with the clink of metal on metal, grinding as they walked over. Alphonse. 

“Hello again.” Alphonse greeted politely.

“Hello, Alphonse Elric.” Roy waved. “I see your brother is recovering swiftly.”

“Of course he is,” Alphonse responded, “it’s brother.”

And Roy couldn’t help but agree.

Roy managed to find the king surrounded by guards.

He was let through once they saw the chain of his pocket watch, bringing him to the king. They still had their guns drawn as he stood parallel to the Fuhrer, glancing at the piece of Edward’s spear on the ground from where Bradley had sliced it. Roy saluted. “I see you have a much higher guard than prior, sir.”

“Oh, they’re just worried.” Bradley laughed. “I had myself handled. That boy was interesting, however. I hear that you were the one to recruit him?”

“Yes, sir.” Roy dropped his hand, body still tensed and straight. “Apologies about his brashness. I personally scouted him out after hearing rumours of two prodigy brothers.”

“A prodigy for good reason,” the Fuhrer nodded, “no-circle alchemy mixed with courage creates a dangerous thing.”

Roy chuckled politely. “Nerves of steel, not to mention.”

“Hm. So I saw.” The Fuhrer smiled. “Full metal limbs, I hear.”

“Trying to assassinate me to prove my safety is very bold.” Bradley agreed. “Yes, very bold indeed. I’d be pleased to see all the advancements he’d make while under your supervision, Colonel Mustang. He’ll make a great State Alchemist.”

Under him? Fuhrer Bradley wanted to place Edward under him? Well, it made sense. Both of them were the youngest ever State Alchemists; Roy was also the youngest Lieutenant Colonel at the moment, same with being the youngest State Alchemist– up until Edward. Was it something that the king felt he had to do? Out of pity, for forcing him to do all that in Ishval? Attempting to give him compensation? Roy had been the one to recruit Edward… was that what Bradley intended? That they could aid each other’s alchemy as two prodigies? That their golden eyes should stay together?

“Maybe then you’ll understand why your senior officers hate having someone two decades younger than them have the same rank as them.” Bradley continued. “Little punk.”

Roy watched as the man walked away with a small guffaw. 

Roy snorted as he looked over Edward’s certificate.

“Something funny, Colonel bastard?” Edward snarled, arms crossed over his chest. Roy looked up from the paper with a smirk; the kid looked like a pouting child.

“Proof of your state certification; a silver pocket watch.” Roy gestured at the box on his desk, before looking back at the actual paper declaring it. “Your certificate of appointment and detailed regulations are here. The Fuhrer has given you quite the ironic title; I suppose that’s my fault.”

“What?” Edward’s face scrunched up. 

“Nothing. Congratulations.” Roy smirked, pushing the paper on his desk towards Edward, who was sitting on one of the sofas. Even though he gave his congrats with a sarcastic tone, Roy found that he truly meant it as his heart squeezed with pride. Roy was the one who previously held the title of youngest State Alchemist, nineteen when he took the Certification Exam and twenty when he got the actual certification. Edward beat that age in a landslide. “You are now officially a dog of the military.”

Edward groaned as he got up, snatching the paper up and reading it aloud. “…grant the title, Fullmetal. Fullmetal?”

“The second name for State Alchemists,” Roy answered, “like a codename. Flame Alchemist, or Crystal Alchemist. You now have the title of Fullmetal Alchemist.”

Roy felt a shiver go down his spine as Edward donned a mischievous, downright evil grin. “Nice, has an oppressive feel to it. Yeah, I’ll take that on.”

Hm. Flame and Fullmetal. Fire couldn’t burn metal. Roy couldn’t hurt Edward. He supposed it was a bit comforting to have that small piece to hang onto, words or not. Steel didn’t contain elements that can serve as fuel to fire. Alchemy was on Roy’s side, for once in his life, where the sciences made sure that their titles wouldn’t be used to hurt each other. Steel was noncombustible, so it wouldn’t contribute to the ignition of fire, the spread of fire, or the size and severity of fire. Roy would keep it that way– alchemy or not. 

“Don’t destroy anything.” Roy deadpanned.

Should he bring it up? It was lunch hours for his team; Roy had stayed behind so that he could get Edward’s state certification, and supervise the twelve-year-old. It was an ideal time to just tell him the truth. He deserved to know.

But what if Edward blew up at him? Roy had known Edward for a full year– or at least, had been keeping track of him for a full year. Roy visited twice during Edward’s recovery period, checking in on them with the excuse that he was sent out by the military anyways, and might as well stop by. All of those were prime times to say something, had Edward not been so hellbent on training himself and researching for Alphonse. 

“Wait, how the hell is it your fault I got such a badass title?” Edward snapped.

“Don’t worry about it,” Roy brushed off, “I was just chatting with the Fuhrer when it got brought up. Your steel limbs.”

“Psh.” Edward grumbled. “Still got a bone-chilling name out of it.”

“Well, the irony isn’t lost.” Roy sighed, and at Edward’s clueless expression, clarified. “If anything, you should be the… Quarter-Metal Alchemist compared to your brother.”

“Hey!” Edward screeched.

“Don’t you have a train to catch, Fullmetal Alchemist?” Roy asked. Edward was very pleased with the new title; might as well use it on him. After all, it was Roy who had brought up that word with Bradley. He could just be glad he’d made Edward happy with something as little as a code name. “Or are you as mentally challenged as you are vertically?”

“Who are you calling so short that he has to look all the way up to read the time trains leave?!” Edward screeched, before actually looking at the clock on the wall in Roy’s office. “Shit!”

“Goodbye then, Fullmetal A–” Roy waved, but the kid was long gone. Hm. Fullmetal.

Once, in a time long ago, Roy had caught a glimpse inside his father’s journal.

He was young, maybe three our four, toddling around and unable to read. Circles and letters and codes meant nothing to his small brain, unlike for when he was older and it meant everything for him. A time where Roy was just on the cusp of being able to distinguish between Amestrian and Xingese, the loopy letters from the scratchy ones. The ones he would see in newspapers, and the ones that he would see his mother write on napkins to teach him.

When he looked inside that journal, it didn’t fit with either language. Rather than having the loopy letters or scratchy ones, the ones in the journal were squiggly and dotted. It more resembled Xingese, but it wasn’t quite right. They weren’t characters Roy had ever seen.

And as he did with his mother, Roy asked. His curiosity was important at the young age, where he wanted to learn which of the two it was.

Rather than giving an answer, she laughed. She told him that there were more languages than Amestrian and Xingese.

His father had quickly hidden the journal.

Roy returned home with a saddened, steely determination and a wish for a bottle.

After achieving that third goal, the next thing he did was go over to his bookshelves. Identical in shape and size, they were lined with books all about alchemy, history, psychology, fantasy, whatever else he could get his hands on. Anything that interested him was in there, books he’d collected through his years and paychecks.

Roy knelt down, groaning at the strain on his knees in front of a specific bookshelf. Looking like all the other ones, there was no way to tell it was different from the others. It held nothing special for it, no order, nothing suspicious. Camouflaged against the others, it held books that Roy had never read before.

He slid open the lowest drawer. Reaching in, he pulled out all types of pens, stationary, papers and whatever else he’d stuffed in there. A watch, a pristine glove, some cologne. Placed onto the ground, he finally reached in and pulled off its bottom.

Beneath it was those journals. Only a few of the originals that he’d found when he was young, but it was something. 

He didn’t have an idea of what it could bring him. Solace. Hopelessness. A start.

Something that his brothers would need after being a State Alchemist for five months and having nothing, they needed one, large push.

Edward may have gotten his licence that same exact day… but for now, they had no leads, and didn’t know where to go from here. It would be research, research, research for who knew how long, until they could find out something that could be promising, that could be a clue on how to get their bodies back.

If Roy could help them... If he could give them a starting point by going through these journals… then so be it. As he reached for the first one, he kept repeating to himself. It was for Edward and Alphonse. It was for his little brothers.

He never did figure out what language Van Hohenheim wrote his journals in, what the language he learned to read but not speak was.

He flipped the cover open.

Roy spent his first night knowing Riza Hawkeye was in Ishval completely and utterly awake.

He couldn’t sleep. His mind refused to sleep, turning and working nonstop as the night wore on. Riza Hawkeye was in Ishval. Riza Hawkeye was in Ishval. He couldn’t protect her. He could never protect her.

He spent the next day looking out for snipers– watching for the glint of their lenses, the small dot up in abandoned buildings, where he heard a shot fired from and where it originated. Riza Hawkeye was good at her job, he found. The Hawk’s Eye, they called her. She made a name for herself– even if it was for something as brutal as killing, it was something separate from her father. 

Roy understood. He became more than the whorehouse’s kid by slaughtering humans.

His next letter to Aunt Chris was messy. He reminded her of that girl he’d met while studying under Master Hawkeye– his daughter. He told his aunt about her job, what name she’d made for herself, some things about her past. Not her back, though. He wouldn’t tell a soul about her back.

When he mailed it, finally, Roy sat in the dunes wondering. How did she cover it up? Did she really join the military to stay with him– did she join because of the tattoo? Was she really ready to face the mass extermination they were ordered to do, less ready than Roy? Was he simply more breakable than her? His spirit more easily crushed, or had hers been mangled along with her back?

Roy could barely look at her– eyes of a killer, face dusted with sand, mark under her eye from the objective lens and that crude smile when she asked if he remembered her– as if he could forget. He would never forget her, the horror as she took off her dress shirt, those days and nights spent sitting and talking and studying from her skin.

Once he saw her, he could never stop seeing her. 

She was in the women’s side of camp– with fellow female soldiers, nurses, medics. She went with her own squadron of snipers, to scout perches and train their eyes on red-eyed targets. Her face stoic, more than Roy could have done before Order 3066. The stoic face she wore when Roy was studying her body, the trust she placed in him completely gone.

He got a letter back. Aunt Chris told him that it was the price of the military– and recruiting children. That people like him and her were the desperate, honourable type that the military preyed on and it always worked. She said she felt only pity for them. That Riza Hawkeye was welcome to stay in the Madame Christmas Bar if she so pleased.

Roy hadn’t expected her to respond. Much less with such kindness– after the papers stated Order 3066, Roy expected her to truly disown him fully. He let down his mother. His mother hadn’t gone through all of that to have her son become a mass murderer and an associate to the genocide of a race of peoples. 

He didn’t expect any type of family to ever love him.

Roy wouldn’t forget. He would never forget Ishval.

Two weeks since Roy had started inspecting Hohenheim’s journals, he got a call.

He furrowed his brows, hearing the dial tone through his apartment. It was past midnight; who would be calling? Hawkeye was long asleep, most likely, so… the military? Roy placed a marker into the journal he was holding and picked up his only light source, a lamp, to shuffle over to his home phone. Who else would be calling at such an ungodly hour, if not something to do with the military?

“Hello?” His voice was scratchy from disuse. “It’s Roy Mustang.”

“Y– you said to call if we needed anything,” Alphonse choked out, and Roy remembered that he had. “Right?” 

“What happened? Alphonse?” Roy held the phone closer. What caused Alphonse to call? He sounded distressed; oh, shit, had something happened to Edward? “Did something happen? Do I have to head over?”

“It– it’s not that.” Alphonse whimpered, and hell, Roy was already fixing his hair and glancing around for his watchcoat. “Actually– this wasn’t a good idea. Sorry for waking you, Colonel.”

“No, I– I was awake when you called, what happened?” Roy spotted the thing; draped over his dining table. “Alphonse, is everything alright? Where’s Edward?”

“He’s sleeping,” Alphonse answered, “he’s alright.”

“Why are you calling, Alphonse?” Roy took a gentler tone; so it wasn’t an emergency. “Are you okay?” No answer. The flame in the lamp flickered, and Roy leaned against the table. “Al, tell me what’s wrong.”

“I hate this,” Alphonse finally spat out, “spending all this time, sitting, waiting. Never resting, always awake.”

Ah, shit, so they were going there. Roy felt his stomach lurch. He remained silent to let Alphonse continue. “I can’t do anything for brother. I’m not able to comfort him, or do anything the same way he does for me. All I’m doing is watching him sleep, and never able to do so myself. I’m metal– I’m cold, and distant, and nothing that can support or comfort him at all. He does so much for me– and I can’t do anything back.”

Roy soaked in those words, Alphonse’s tinny cries echoing through his mind. “Alphonse. Stop that right now.”

Again, no answer. Roy took another moment to compose himself. “You give your older brother’s’more support than you know. Without you, I don’t think Edward would have come this far, pushed himself this far. He needs you just as much as you need him, no amount of metal will be able to erase that. You’re what carries him forwards.”

“How… how do you know?”

“You know that I was… deployed to Ishval, right?” Roy said softly, straining his voice. He leaned against the wall. Alphonse let out a nervous hum, Roy took it as a sign as he slid down the wall and to the ground. “After the war, when we returned home… I… wasn’t doing well.”

Alphonse didn’t interrupt. Roy had to clear his throat, composing himself. “There were times when I thought it wouldn’t end. But I had people to stand by me, and in turn, I would stand by them. They knocked some sense into me; sometimes literally.”

Alphonse huffed a wet laugh.

“I would just know they were there; always, even without words. Silent supporters, without any words or actions– constant supporters.” Roy smiled shakily. “Their actions might be directly to you or things you never get to see; but you’ll know they’re going to stand with you.”

They remained silent, over the call. Roy listened to the static and calmed his heart, leaning against the nook between the table and wall. “What I’m saying is, having someone you know and trust, like you are for Edward, is an amount of support and comfort that can’t be measured. Don’t ever doubt yourself again. Understood?”

“Yes, sir.” Alphonse said shakily, but Roy felt like he meant it. “Can I ask… who it is? You know mine is brother– but what about you?”

Roy hummed. “Lieutenant Hawkeye, obviously. I’ve known her since I was thirteen. My best friend, Hughes, who I’ve known since military academy. My aunt, and the people who work for her and helped to raise me. All my men, who I chose with my own hands.”

Roy sighed. “…and well, to be honest, you two also make me keep going.” 

“…Colonel?” 

“You do know that usually, I’d just have my men do their own research and present it to me in a report to ask for the mission?”

“Are you serious, Colonel?!”

“Careful there, Al, you might wake him up,” Roy joked, “but yes. You two are eleven and twelve years old. As much as Edward wants to disparage it, you’re children.” My children. My brothers. “You’re both already incredibly brave, for going through all of this for your bodies, and it’s good that you support each other through it. And you have to know that you’re not alone. So, so many people are watching over you.”

Roy paused, in case Alphonse wanted to speak, only to get no answer. “Al? Are you alright?”

“Colonel… thank you.” Alphonse whispered. “You’re supporting us more than either of us will ever know, aren’t you?”

Roy’s face fell. “Yes, I am. And you can’t feel guilty about that. That’s an order, Alphonse.” 

“Yes, sir.” Alphonse sniffled.

“Well, I think I have to go to bed,” Roy checked the clock on the wall as he stood up, “have to get to the office.” Or else Hawkeye will shoot me went unsaid. “Can I expect you both to come in two hours late?”

“I’ll try to make it one, sir.” Alphonse laughed, and Roy smiled.

“Goodnight, Alphonse.” Roy hummed, hearing the response as he placed down the receiver.

And maybe, Roy could find a way to return their bodies to normal. 

Fix himself, too, while he was at it.

Roy hated sand. He stood shaking a handful out of his boot.

The heat was finally lifting; Roy knew it was only the beginning. The desert cooled rapidly at night– to almost freezing temperatures. The sun beating down on them was only one of many problems that the Amestrian soldiers had to face when fighting in Ishval. Roy shoved his boot back on, still feeling little granules against his foot. He grit his teeth and stomped, trying to make it more comfortable.

“Yo, Roy.” Maes. With that dead voice.

Roy looked up. The man didn’t look much better than him.

Eyes of a killer. Face of a non-indigenous. 

“Your face is peeling.” Roy noted.

“As is yours.” Maes returned.

“How was your day?” Roy picked at his coat, voice and eyes hollow.

“Lots of Ishvalans evacuating Selisil,” Maes offered Roy his canteen, “so there was that.”

“Evacuating after I blew up their city.” Roy took the water. “Did you know that Selisil was a city known for their glasswork?”

“I didn’t,” Maes responded.

“Yes. That's why the windows were so intricate.” What was left of those windows before he melted them, melted their lives and story and people and history. “Instead of books like Amestris, the Ishvalans would tell stories using tinted glass.”

“Huh. Where did they put all that?” Maes wondered, snatching the flask back and tilting his head to get the last drops.

“The city. They’d put their myths and history in the city windows.” Roy answered. “You could walk the streets going inwards to the centre, and you could get a story from the windows. The one in Selisil was of their myth, Baqiya’s Inferno.”

“Sounds ominous,” Maes joked, but it came out all wrong.

“No. It’s alchemy.” Roy said.

They walked through camp, silence between each other. There was nothing to say. Both of them had just killed an entire city of people over one day. And they were to do it again tomorrow. Roy saw Maes off to the soldier’s side of camp before heading off to his own tent; in the human weapons section.

As he got there, he looked over the State Alchemists propped around small fires. Some shaking and muttering to themselves. Others laughing over beer and a pack of worn cards. A couple of them sitting alone with dinner and eating with monotone expressions. Then, there was the commotion at the back of camp. Roy stepped carefully over the sands towards it.

“You’re a lucky man, Major Armstrong.” Roy called over.

The hulking man looked over. “Major Mustang?”

“Connections, money, power, status…” Roy listed off, his killing eyes staring the other man down. “I envy you deeply. You know, I was raised in the slums. I built myself up, and this is where it’s brought me. If I did half of the things you’ve done for the Ishvalans, I’d already be executed.”

Armstrong bowed his head. “I’m so sorry, Major.”

“Have a safe trip home to Amestris.” Roy scowled.

He turned with a spray of sand.

Roy booked himself a ticket to Central.

A quick day trip, he assured himself, leaving the office an hour early to catch the four hour train, then spending an hour in Central before catching the last train back. He’d then have four hours to sleep before going to the office the next day. Simple!

Roy didn’t let himself stretch until he was back on that familiar road, back to the Madame Christmas Bar. Not until he opened that door, was greeted by his sisters, was met with his aunt. Only when he was about to sit down on a barstool did he finally crack his knuckles, pop his back, and settle down.

It had really been a while since he’d been given a field mission, then. As a top combat alchemist, Roy expected more… maybe things were dying down, for a bit. Give him more time to focus on finding a solution for his brothers, get them out of the military as soon as possible. The Philosopher’s Stone… if he could manage to find them a mission that would lead them to one outside of the military, then it could work. He just needed a start. Any sort of start, and what better place than to head to his aunt’s informants?

Even if they couldn’t find anything about a Philosopher’s Stone, they would still be able to pull up rumours for him. None of his aunt’s workers were alchemists– they were spies and ‘whores’. Roy needed to sift through whatever information they could provide him with, let him find the useful things to give Edward and Alphonse. Those young boys.

“A drink for you, Roy-boy?” Krista asked.

“Not today.” Roy groaned, sliding his torso over the bar. “Have to catch the last train back to East City.”

“Really? You’re not spending the night?” She asked, incredulously. 

Roy rubbed his face. “I have work tomorrow morning, eight.”

“Why did you come here, then?” Krista offered him a glass of water.

He sat up, looking down at his reflection, “some advice only an aunt can give.”

“I’ll go call her.” Krista winked, and she was gone.

Roy pulled himself up again, letting his elbows rest on the countertops. Around him were small drinking groups, some military personnel in uniform while there were other work parties sitting around in booths. Other jaded men sat alone at the bar, sipping their whiskey or vodka. Roy bit at his lip. 

“Ah, Roy-boy. What brings you here on a Thursday night?” Aunt Chris.

Roy smirked, sliding over a paper. “If it wouldn’t be a bother, madame.”

She took it, reading. Looked back up at him. “You sure?”

Roy nodded. “Absolutely.”

Roy nearly jumped out of his seat as his door slammed open.

“Ah, Fullmetal.” Roy huffed, relaxing his grip on his pen. “No need to slam my door off the hinges. It’s too early in the morning for this kind of thing.”

“Sorry about that, Colonel…” Alphonse trailed into the office after Edward, “we had a rough night– the train was loud, and brother couldn’t sleep.”

“Of course…” Roy mumbled, rubbing at his eyes with the palms of his hands. A week since he’d returned from that short trip to Central, and his sleeping was even more out of whack than it was before. As the black spots dissipated, he looked up to see his younger brothers standing in front of his desk. “And are you going to wear that stupid coat around everywhere?”

“Look who’s talking.”

“Hey, my coat actually looks good!”

“Colonel.” Hawkeye’s eyes bored into his soul.

Roy jerked up. “Yes, yes, Lieutenant. Fullmetal, your report?”

Edward drooped and held out a hand towards the suit of armour. “Ugh, Al?”

Alphonse dug a hand into Edward’s suitcase, taking out… the remnants of a piece of paper. He guiltily pushed it across Roy’s desk. He shuffled back, the metal being the only resounding sound in the room. Roy hesitantly reached forwards and picked it up.

“Fullmetal, respectfully, what the hell is this?!” Roy’s voice grew in volume with each word.

Edward huffed, crossing his arms. “My damn report. Jeez.”

“Are you illiterate?!” Roy held up the paper; a thing with ink blotches and crinkles, barely legible besides the huge ‘Edward Elric’ written at the top. “This is the ninth mission you’ve done for the military and all of them have… this!”

“Why the hell should I care about the damn report?!” Edward shot back. “It doesn’t matter as long as I complete your damn inspection! You know exactly why I joined the military, Colonel bastard! Not for boring shit like this!”

Roy shot back immediately. “Fullmetal, you can resign whenever you like– it’s your freedom of choice. Don’t forget that I’m helping you correct a mistake you made with your own free will, giving you my help and resources through the military despite the fact that my duty to my job and country should come first. If you don’t want that, then put it on paper and leave my office.”

Roy huffed. “If resigning isn’t an option, you could switch commanding officers if you so pleased.”

Roy looked over to Alphonse from Edward’s widened eyes and poorly hidden hurt expression. While it was true, that the kid could request a new superior officer… Roy knew there weren’t many that were as lenient as him, who would let Edward off with just some scolding. Not court-martialing him, not demeriting him, not reporting him for insubordination, saving him from legal troubles, writing apology letters to higher-ups, paying for his housing… Roy was much too soft on Edward for their roles in the military. 

It would be incredibly dangerous to place someone as rebellious as Edward under anyone else’s command. Roy wasn’t even sure if Edward realised just how… relaxed Roy had been compared to other commanding officers. He couldn’t even be sure if it was because they were his brothers, they were children, or they grew on him like a parasite. 

“You know that isn’t an option.” Edward’s voice dropped low; even so, he still sounded like a child. He was a child. He just turned thirteen a month ago.

Edward knew he couldn’t switch, too. Roy and Hawkeye were a pair, the only people in the military who knew of their act that caused their bodies to be taken and reason to become a State Alchemist. Not many other officers wouldn’t be so lenient on a prodigy and his huge brother, Roy knew they would be sent on dangerous missions as such a powerful pair. Regardless of if they were still children. 

He knew Edward would stay because of Roy’s new proposition about the Philosopher’s Stone. No other officer would let his subordinates run around on missions that wouldn’t benefit the military. Not benefit the military anymore. 

Roy grinded his teeth to keep himself from saying anything more. “Well maybe, if I could actually read your report, I could tell you about a lead I could have. It’s a big one.”

Edward’s face melted into surprise, while Alphonse’s armour clanked. “Huh?”

“I’m going to try and… decipher your report, Fullmetal.” Roy groaned, glancing over all the spelling mistakes and missing words and slang. Was that word building or blinding? Maybe it was beating? No... “Come back in a couple of days, and I can tell you about this piece of information I have.”

“Wh– Colonel!” Alphonse protested, and Roy felt a pang of guilt. It wasn’t… Alphonse's fault that Edward refused to do his job correctly. Maybe it was a bit of a stretch; Roy could probably decipher the report in a couple hours, a day because of all his damn paperwork that he was inevitably going to put off again. 

“Tell us!” Edward demanded.

“Fullmetal, I’m a busy man.” Roy glared, pointing at the stack of papers on his desk. “The fact that I’m looking into this for you is already taking up my time. Bickering, too.”

“You want that, you bastard.”

“So if the Lieutenant will allow it, I’ll spend a couple of hours fixing the report into something actually eligible in Amestrian,” Roy growled, “before doing more paperwork.”

Edward slammed his hands on Roy’s desk, making a huge thud. “How big is your discovery?”

Roy went into his desk drawer, pulling out seventy-three pages worth of ‘discovery’. He dropped it in front of himself, over Edward’s report and his paperwork. Roy looked back up at Edward, eyebrows slightly raised.

“I’ll rewrite the damn report.” Edward seethed.

Roy smirked. Of course he was going to rewrite it.

A couple of hours later, and Roy received a brand-new report on his desk. It still had a couple of ink splotches, some misspellings and at least one short-form of a word every paragraph and the penmanship was absolute dogshit, but Roy could read it. Edward looked almost worse for wear, with dishevelled hair and bags under his eyes. He looked like Roy– Roy at a different point in his life. He wondered if their father had ever looked that way, too. If that’s where they got that pathetic look from.

Hm. Maybe he could look into if his subordinates were able to give oral reports. Edward was a fantastic storyteller.

“Thank you, Fullmetal,” Roy hummed, skimming the paragraphs, “go have a rest.”

“What?!” Edward screeched, sudden energy overtaking him. “I did not sit here for two hours writing a damn good essay just to get dismissed, Colonel bastard!”

“Fullmetal, you’re exhausted,” Roy pointed out, “go have a nap, or something. That’s what all second graders do in the afternoon. Hell, I nap during the afternoon.”

“We would rather you not do that, Colonel.” Hawkeye responded from the other side of the room.

“Who are you calling so tiny he seems like a sleepy second grader?!” Edward shouted, getting held back by Alphonse. “Let me go! I’m gonna sock him! He’s gonna catch these hands, that bastard!”

“Brother, calm down!” Alphonse held his tiny older brother up off the ground. “The Colonel is right– you’re exhausted! I’m sure the Colonel can talk to us another time– let’s just go back to the dorms for a little!”

Roy watched his thirteen-year-old brother struggle for another couple of seconds before intervening. “I can tell you the basics, but… it’s a complicated matter.”

Edward stopped squirming. Roy sighed, gesturing at the seats in front of his desk. “Sit. Men, it’s lunch hour.”

They all knew what that meant. The talk was private, and had something to do with alchemy. The two boys sat down as Roy’s subordinates finished up their work and stood, making quiet chat as they exited. Breda closed the door as he was the last to leave.

Just the three of them. Hohenheim’s idiot kids.

Roy weaved his fingers together. “This is strictly confidential information that I am about to share with you. You can’t say everything that I tell you, only what has been published. Most people wouldn’t have access to this information; not even most Colonels. Also, once I finish the summary, I will drive you two to your dorm and Edward will go to sleep before either of you look at the full extent of my research. That’s an order. Understood?”

“Yes, Colonel.” Alphonse answered.

“Yeah, yeah.” Edward waved off, but Roy heard the agreement in his voice.

Roy nodded. “Good. This is about a very powerful object; the Philosopher’s Stone.”

“Huh?” Alphonse mumbled, before making himself louder. “Isn’t that a mythical stone, that could transmute lead to gold?”

“We looked into it, remember?” Edward pointed out. “Back before I got the automail, but there wasn’t enough information about it. Seemed more like a myth than actual alchemy.”

Roy murmured, “you’re too young to know this piece of information,” he went louder, to them, “but the most you need to know right now is that the Philosopher’s Stone is real.”

“What do you mean, too young?!” Edward blew up. Oh. So he heard.

“What is the alchemy's first law of equivalent exchange?” Roy interrupted. He wasn’t going to deal with Edward’s anger while talking about the Philosopher’s Stone. Edward paused at Roy’s unwillingness to return to their normal banter.

“Humankind cannot gain anything without first giving something in return. To obtain, something of equal value must be lost.” Alphonse recited. 

Roy nodded. “Philosopher’s Stones ignore that rule completely.”

“What?” Edward shot up from his slump.

“They can create matter out of nothing,” Roy explained, “and at the same time, enhance abilities that the alchemist already possesses. The way that it gets created is unknown, but they’re most definitely real. I’m sure it could rebuild a body and two limbs.”

“What, you believe that the damn ‘Fifth Element’ actually exists?” Edward scoffed, standing. “That’s stupid. You’re stupid. I thought you’d at least be smarter than falling for some stupid shiny ruby!”

“It’s real,” Roy stated firmly, “I know because I’ve used one.”

Edward and Alphonse leaned in closer. “Can you give it to us?”

“No. The military took it away once they– …finished up in Ishval. All State Alchemists who had one signed a contract stating that they wouldn’t try and pursue a Philosopher’s Stone, or try and find out where the military took them to. Thankfully, neither of you signed that or were in Ishval.”

“Wait, so you can’t do anything to find this Philosopher’s Stone, but we can?” Alphonse asked. Roy looked towards the boy, noting that Edward was deep in thought.

“Yes. I’m not legally allowed to search for a Philosopher’s Stone to try and obtain it for myself.” Roy recited. “The loophole is that I can research it, and send you two off to find it for yourselves. It’s not for my personal gain and the military wouldn’t legally be able to fire me.”

“Can’t we make our own?” Edward finally asked. “You said that how it’s made is unknown– but we could find how!”

“The only things I’ve found about the Philosopher’s Stone are written here,” Roy pressed his hand down onto the stack of seventy-three pages, “and it really seems like they… just appear out of thin air. Perhaps mined or fused with multiple rare elements, but that’s only my best guess.”

“How many have appeared?” Alphonse questioned.

“You know how rare the Fifth Element is– Edward didn’t even believe that it was real, at first,” Roy hummed, barely noticing his slip in names until the teenager jerked upright, “so plenty of people are lying about it. They could have a ruby and have strong alchemy, or a weakened and incomplete Philosopher’s Stone, or whatever else there may be. I’ve heard stories from other State Alchemists about their stones weakening; I have no proof to those claims, however.”

“So how do we find one ourselves?” Edward growled.

“I don’t know how to find one naturally,” Roy tapped his index finger on his wooden desk, “but they’re definitely real and many people claim to have one– it depends on whether they’re being truthful, or not. Starting with the person on the first page.”

“Really?” Alphonse leaned forwards.

“Once Fullmetal has his nap, you can see the most recent one on the first page,” Roy flipped open the file, glancing at his notes from the library and classified files and Hohenheim’s journals, “other than that…”

Each of his men filtered back into the room, glancing at them before sitting down again and resuming work. Had the three of them really been talking for so long? Well, ‘resuming work’ in the sense that they were trying to eavesdrop. Roy supposed that they probably had a ‘quick lunch’ of some crackers and a cigarette. 

“So if people could have the Philosopher’s Stone right now–” Edward’s tone was more hushed, “why the hell haven’t you sent us out for it? If you knew it was real this entire time?”

“I’d heard rumours of people having one, but believed they were baseless until I started looking into it for you.” Roy explained. “Even so, they’re Kenja no Ishi. They can create matter out of nothing– would I really send two kids after that?”

“You know exactly fucking why we joined, you bastard.” Edward cursed. “I don’t care how dangerous it is.”

“I only started looking into this possibility three months ago,” Roy bit back, “using whatever I knew from Ishval as my starting point, along with some journals. Sanguine Stones are… seriously harmful. Beyond whatever medical uses it has.”

“Please send us out for it, Colonel!” Alphonse requested.

“That’s why I have the mission details on the first page,” Roy huffed, “in case you want to go. Be warned, you will be disappointed at some points. That people lie, that the journey was too long or the price was too large to pay.”

“We know a bit more about paying prices than you, Mustang.” Edward snarled. 

“I meant that people could lose their lives to get you that stone. You could lose your lives.” Roy answered slowly. “That was why I was hesitant to give you this lead; because it’s vast and dangerous. The missions will be long and continuous, maybe even for years. Your alchemical abilities are too inexperienced–”

“Wha– if I knew that Flame Alchemy, I could go through missions faster!” Edward protested, having his voice rising in volume with each word, and Roy’s entire body tensed. “So maybe you could tea–”

“Absolutely not.” Roy hissed. The office was still full, his men were all suddenly watching carefully, and Roy was going to prevent his thirteen-year-old brother from making the worst mistake of his life.

“Aw, so nobody can be as good as you?” Edward mocked. “Your head is that far up your ass?”

“I’m not teaching you Flame Alchemy,” Roy stated, “and that means anyone. The secrets of Flame Alchemy will die with me.”

Hawkeye would die with him.

“What the hell!” Edward screeched. “This is– nobody’s actually done Flame Alchemy until you! Before you, it’s only ever been theoretical! And you’re gonna keep it from the rest of the world?!”

“You didn’t– you didn’t see–” Roy started, but he found he couldn’t finish it. You didn’t see Ishval. You didn’t smell Ishval. You didn’t survive Ishval. From the looks of all his men’s faces, they knew exactly how he was going to finish that sentence. His younger brothers also seemed to understand, too. They’d just been talking about the damn place; how much Roy had destroyed using the Philosopher’s Stone.

“Edward.” The two looked over to the row of desks, where all of Roy’s subordinates sat. The men were all looking towards Hawkeye, who was staring directly at Edward. “Flame Alchemy is dangerous and destructive, so it should never be replicated again. Colonel Mustang regrets ever learning.”

Edward froze and Roy took the opportunity. “Flame Alchemy shouldn’t have ever been discovered. It’s a threat to humanity, and even the creator died regretting his discovery and I regretted ever studying his notes. I am the first and last Flame Alchemist.”

“But– how am I supposed to become stronger? Go on more missions to try and fix us?” Edward shot back, but it didn’t have quite the spark as it did before. “I need to learn everything I can to become stronger. Stronger than you.”

Roy couldn’t be sure if that was an insult or compliment. 

“That’s simple.” Roy leaned back in his chair, the fight already over. “You already are.”

The office was filled with utter silence. The Elric brothers stared in disbelief, while his subordinates held a similar face. Roy kept himself from chuckling, glancing around at everyone before finally at his paperwork. The damn paperwork.

“Come along then, Fullmetal, Alphonse,” Roy decided loudly as he got up and stretched, “time to get you two home.”

Roy started hearing the rumours.

He’d been told of them already, of course, but the whispers started growing so loud that he was hearing them with his own ears. The informants from his aunt’s bar had told him of the general scope of the rumours, but to hear them himself… 

Well. He didn’t mind being speculated as Edward’s father.

Twin pairs of golden eyes. Becoming a State Alchemist at such a young age, being recruited by Roy personally. Having a reputation as a womaniser, having multiple women who were actually informants be on him all the time in public… 

Roy wasn’t surprised by rumours, per say, but the fact they reached that conclusion– Roy was only fifteen years older than Alphonse! Not to mention Edward! And he was in the military academy in Central at the time both boys were born– how would he have reached Resembool? The rumours that he’d snuck over during the Ishval Civil War– Roy was very much not in the mood to sleep around during such a time, and though the two locations were close, it wasn’t worth trekking through the mountains on foot for some woman. That and the fact that the Elric brothers were already four and five during the time Roy was stationed there.

So much proof that Roy wasn’t their father, but people liked to judge and worm their way into political figures’ personal lives like that. They liked to speculate, to know every little detail. All they saw was a serial slut with a subordinate who had the same shade of golden eyes, and that was what they needed to fan the flame.

Roy wouldn’t stop them from talking.

Roy looked up as the phone rang.

He rubbed at his face, feeling the ageing lines over it as he shuffled over to his phone. It took a second before he picked it up, pinching the bridge of his nose and then running that hand through his hair.

“Edward and Alphonse dropped in to hand in their report, sir.” Hawkeye.

“I see.” Roy’s voice crackled with disuse. 

“They were asking about you.”

“What did you tell them, Lieutenant?”

“That you were ill.”

“Is Second Lieutenant Breda still there?”

“Yes, sir. He took a shower and is staying late.”

“Oh. Tell him that I don’t blame him.”

“Sir, we were all scared for you.”

“No need, Lieutenant. I’m perfectly fine.”

“You had a panic attack over Breda cooking bacon for breakfast, Colonel. Even if he didn’t bring it in as advised, we barely noticed that the smell stuck until you ran out and spent the rest of your work day in the records room before heading home early.”

“It wasn’t his fault. I’ll be coming in tomorrow– and to actually do work, so you don’t have to shoot me.”

“Sir, you’re allowed to take a break.”

“No. I have to keep pushing forward with my goals.”

Roy tapped his finger against the newspaper.

The current reports– tensions with Creta were rising, but nothing occurred just yet. The military was planning to pass a law regarding manufacturing weapons. A farming town was suddenly seeing a rise in wheat production, which could slightly change the food industry. Most of the boring things.

Only an hour left. Only one more hour on the train before they reached Athnes, a small military town in the south of the East Area. According to the reports and what Roy did some quick research on, it was created by the military as a failsafe in case Aerugo decided to invade instead of being in a trench war. It was also to block anyone from entering the ruins of Ishval– deemed too unsafe for anyone to return to.

Athnes was also on the border of some thick forests– trees which had died out due to the pollution caused by the Ishval War. With the summer season, they were at high risk of suddenly catching fire and spreading even faster– endangering the families who the military sent to live there. Roy, being one of the top combat State Alchemists, who specialised in combustion and gases, was sent to try and ensure the eventual forest fire didn’t hurt anyone. He was a combat-grade State Alchemist, for fuck’s sake! He wasn’t meant to do controlled burnings of a forest!

“Reading the newspaper like an old man,” Edward snickered.

Roy looked up from the thin pages. “And you’re too young to understand what’s written down.”

Ah, the cherry on top for his absolutely useless mission. His brothers were joining him. Just the most nuclear, strange family field trip. Not only was Athnes a military town, it was also rumoured to be where the military put their Philosopher’s Stones after the war. He’d let it slip the day before he was to leave, and the little shits managed to smuggle themselves using a little pleading. Not to him, however. Because Roy’s opinion didn’t matter.

“Hey!” Edward scowled. “I can read the papers just fine, grandpa!”

“I wouldn’t be surprised if you had no knowledge on modern politics,” Roy sighed, “isn’t that a bit sad, Fullmetal?”

“Gimmie that.” Edward snarled, snatching it from Roy’s hands.

Roy gasped as Edward balled it up and tossed it out of the window– of the moving train. “I was reading that, you little brat!”

“Now you aren’t.” Edward huffed.

Roy grit his teeth. “You’re lucky I’m bringing you two on this mission.”

“Sir. It’s not like you care about what’s written in the newspaper.” Hawkeye reminded. “Edward, it’s rude to do that anyways.”

His only saving grace. His Lieutenant was also on the mission. 

“Yeah, sorry, Lieutenant Hawkeye.” Edward mumbled.

Roy felt a blood vessel in his forehead thrumming angrily. “And me?”

“I’m not apologising to you, you bastard.”

“Colonel Mustang, that is a thirteen-year-old.”

“I don’t think it’s going to stop me.”

Roy took a deep breath at her glare. Alright. He wouldn’t go and sock his little brother. His brat of a little brother. Instead, he pulled out his journal. Might as well read through some of his old notes before reaching Athnes as reminders before possibly having to go no-contact in the military base there.

Make sure Alina is alright without a call from me. Check in with Jaqueline. Date with Ines @3:30 6/Aug. Look into ruby for Edelweiss before our date today. Flirt with Ms Anaya– keep calm and put together. Look into Fiammetta 1591169208. 

“Aw, you really keep all this in your coat pocket?” Edward gagged. 

Roy moved his eyes slowly to see the kid peeking over his shoulder. 

He snapped the notebook shut. “Why the hell are you spying on me?!”

“You just keep notes like that? Blegh.” Edward retched. 

Roy clenched his fist. Do not hit the child. Do not hit the child.

“You little punk.” He seethed.

Edward seethed back. “Say that again?”

Roy grew a tiny irritated grin. “Little punk.”

“You’re enjoying this, sir.” Hawkeye said sternly.

“I can’t do anything in this car…” Roy muttered, putting his notebook back into his coat pocket and crossing his arms. And pouted. Maybe Hawkeye would take pity on him.

“Sir, General Grumman gave you that chessboard for a reason.” Hawkeye pointed out, then going right back to staring out of the window. An actual psychopath, or someone with great self-control. 

“You hate chess.” Roy countered.

Her eyes slid over to Edward, who was fiddling with his red coat.

“No,” Roy whispered, horrified. She gave him a look. “I can’t do that in an hour.”

Hawkeye stared at him another moment before shrugging and turning back to the window.

Shit. Roy pursed his lips together. He had basically nothing else to do. Unless he wanted to unpack his entire suitcase to grab his alchemy book, there was nothing to do. Roy really expected to read the entire boring damn newspaper over the five hour train. He’d cleared his head enough to do so, making all his running thoughts slow in order to actually get caught up in the modern world of politics and war.

“Can you stop that?” Edward said, tone grating. Roy looked up, dumbfounded. Edward clarified. “The… tapping.”

Roy looked down at his hands– more specifically, his index. Oh, so he was. He’d never met anyone who was so irritated by something as simple as his finger tapping. “Why, Fullmetal?”

“Reminds me of the old man.” Edward growled, and Roy’s heart dropped. Did he really remind Edward of Hohenheim? Were they really that closely attached, even if the man had walked out when he was six? Did he still show Hohenheim’s traits, more than just the golden eyes? Roy stopped immediately.

“Thought you called me that five minutes ago, pipsqueak.” Roy countered, a bit shakily. Hawkeye caught on but said nothing. Thankfully. 

Roy could practically see the steam erupting from Edward’s ears as he completely forgot about his previous words. “Who’re you calling a pipsqueak?!”

“Edward. There are other people on this train.” Hawkeye said.

Roy and Edward swallowed their arguments. They crossed their arms and looked away. Roy glanced over to see Hawkeye looking directly at him, eyebrows raised a fraction and brown irises glittering mischievously. His face soured right back; playfully. They were not that similar. 

“Are we there yet, Lieutenant?” Edward groaned.

“Another hour, Edward.” Hawkeye responded.

Roy clicked his tongue. “Bored, Fullmetal?” 

“The hell’s it to you?” Edward spat.

“I sure am. If only someone hadn’t thrown my newspaper out the damn window.” Roy griped.

Edward rolled his eyes. “You weren’t even reading it.”

“Yes, I was!”

“Colonel.”

Roy sulked.

“Once, there was a poet called Baqiya.” Roy recalled quietly. Out of the corner of his eye, he could spot Edward turn and Hawkeye’s eyes flit over. “She wished for immortality, and climbed a mountain said to hold an immortal river inside. The journey was long and hard, but eventually, she made it to the top.”

“Sir?” Hawkeye whispered. She knew the story.

“Yeah– what’s this about?” Edward snarked.

Roy frowned and looked over. “Freeing me of my boredom. Boredom that you inflicted.”

“Or you just like to hear yourself talk.” Edward muttered.

Roy pointedly ignored the boy. “She met a guide at the top– Abiz. He promised that he could lead her to immortality, but the journey would be even harder than trekking the mountain, and she would have to witness everything terrible about the world, in a place humans called hell. Her immortality would come from hell, he said, and it was powered by what happened inside. Baqiya agreed immediately. It was a small price to pay.”

The train went around a bend, almost pushing Roy into Edward. They steadied themselves.

“And so, the two entered hell– so that Baqiya could witness the worst the world could offer, and then make her choice on taking immortality or not.” Roy kept his eyes on his hands. “There were nine circles to hell– getting worse along the way. Sinners in each circle were punished in different ways based on their human crimes.”

“The circles grew smaller as they descended– limbo, for nonbelievers.” Hawkeye interrupted softly. “Lust, trapped in an eternal storm. Gluttons stayed in an icy sheet and ate garbage, the greedy had to push massive amounts of weight. Wrath, sinking in mud for eternity. Flaming crypts for those who committed heresy. Violent sinners were submerged in boiling blood. The fraudulent were burned in flames for the eighth circle of hell.”

“The final circle was for treachery.” Roy finished. “Betrayers were thrown into an icy lake forever, known as the worst punishment.”

Edward made a judging face, “those all sound brutal.” 

“Well, Baqiya endured it.” Roy said. “She was guided through each of the nine circles of hell, interviewing the sinners trapped there for what they’d done and what they got as punishment. Baqiya had to watch the true colour of the human psyche and what it had to go through because it committed those acts. And she finally made it to the centre of hell to make her decision on the deal.”

“Here, they meet Satan.” Hawkeye nodded. “Protruding from the ice with three heads, each chewing on three traitors. Traitors of god.”

“Huh?” Edward’s eyes shone. Roy knew he’d caught the kid– he was invested.

“I’m sure you know them. The Philosopher from the East, Nicholas Flamel, and Hermes Trismegistus.” Roy listed. “Inarguably the three most famous alchemists ever.”

“Are– are they the ‘ultimate sinners’ of your story?” Edward gaped.

“You don’t see alchemy as a sin?” Roy countered, quickly continuing before getting interrupted. “Baqiya and Abiz started their way over to Satan. As they do, Abiz explains to her that the nine circles of hell were created when Satan fell from heaven when he decided to practise the devil’s magic– alchemy.”

“This– what kinda story is this?” Edward chuckled breathlessly.

“The two heroes finally made it– standing in front of Satan’s three heads. And Abiz asks again.” Roy inhaled, “if Baqiya would still like immortality through a monster like this– that the immortal river she was looking for made the suffering of the dead. After witnessing all that happens to those who commit sin in their lifetime. The cost of such power, and what happens when people fall from the eyes of god.”

Roy looked around again, except he saw he wasn’t the only one listening. In the train car, a couple of kids were listening in. An old man in the corner was watching, and a couple was leaning towards him nonchalantly. People he’d barely noticed over the previous four hours, filtering in and out of the car, were listening to his story. 

“And?” A girl asked– probably around ten years old. “She took it, right?”

“She did.” Roy nodded. “Baqiya had a goal, and she decided to take the bargain. Immortality in the sense that she could not die until her natural death to old age, and she would go to either heaven or hell depending on how she spent that time being unable to get injured. Baqiya and Abiz emerged from hell unscathed, and parted ways.”

“So what’s the point of that story, exactly?” Edward grumbled.

“She went mad,” Roy said, “and broke her side of the deal. As time wore on, she couldn’t handle what she saw in the layers of hell. Satan dragged Baqiya into the ninth circle for betraying their bargain.”

The train car went silent as the whistle blew. They all looked up. Athnes. 

“Come along, then.” Roy stood, dusting off his civilian clothes. “The end.”

Edward and Hawkeye stood as well, gathering their suitcases along with a couple of other passengers in the car. Roy made haste in his exit, trying to find the cargo cars. Alphonse was in Car Three, exactly where they’d snuck him in.

“How was your trip, brother?” The first thing Alphonse asked when he got reassembled outside of the crate. “Colonel? Lieutenant?”

“The Colonel shared a creepy story,” Edward scrutinised, “like damn.”

“It wasn’t that bad, Fullmetal.” Roy scoffed as they exited the platform.

“A girl killed herself because she saw all the torture in hell,” Edward deadpanned, “and then got tortured for eternity. It was literally bashing alchemy. It was punishing alchemists.”

“It makes sense. Baqiya’s Inferno is one of the most famous Ishvalan stories, after all.” Hawkeye added.

Edward and Alphonse looked over. “Ishvalan?”

“Yes. Baqiya’s Inferno is a traditional Ishvalan children’s story.” Roy answered. “It’s a warning against alchemy and sin, along with making heavy bargains with little regard to future consequences.”

“Then why do you know it, Colonel?” Alphonse asked.

“I know a lot of Ishvalan stories.” Roy answered.

Edward looked down at his automail limb, walking side-by-side to Alphonse. “What basis was that story?”

“As I said,” Roy said coolly, “alchemy is evil.”

“The story… the girl was seeking immortality.” Edward murmured. “And witnessed hell. And made the deal anyway, then paid the price.”

“Do you see why I told you that story, Fullmetal?” Roy hummed. They made it to a crossroad, Athnes in the distance. They were waiting for an escort, that group of soldiers walking towards them from a distance.

Edward remained silent. Roy saluted the newcomers. 

“Colonel Mustang?” One of them asked, turning to him with a salute.

“Yes, sir. May I take you as Colonel Anadis?” Roy said.

“That’s me. At ease, please.” Anadis said, lowering his own hand.

“Thank you for coming as an escort, Colonel.” Roy said, face calm. 

“It’s no problem. Is this the Fullmetal Alchemist?” Anadis looked– at Alphonse.

Edward’s face darkened, so Roy took over. “This one here is Edward Elric.”

Anadis looked down. “Ah. And this one is…”

“Alphonse, his younger brother.” He said.

Anadis blinked, then gave one firm nod. “And of course, Lieutenant Hawkeye.”

“Sir.” Hawkeye, with her textbook-perfect military posture, clinked her heels.

He started leading them back down the dirt road, with two soldiers. Roy gestured for his younger brothers to follow. They walked in silence, Roy recalling his notes. Keep calm and keep his cool– Anadis was a stoic man, according to rumours, and Roy should be the same. No goofing off, or appearing dishevelled– if it was necessary, then Roy would have to pin the ‘idiot’ look on Edward and Alphonse. Not like either had to really try to act like it.

“So, uh, Colonel Anadis,” Edward fell into step with the other Colonel, and Roy’s gut seized. Oh, shit. What was Edward planning? “What’s Athnes for?”

The man rattled on with why Athnes was created. Things Roy already read from mission details and previous government records from the library. Then, Edward pried further. “Records?”

“Yes, Major Elric. Some records from Ishval are being kept here.” Anadis responded. “I’m sure both Colonel Mustang and Lieutenant Hawkeye know of that.”

Roy nodded, and he and Hawkeye spoke at the same time. “Yes, sir.”

“What kinds of stuff?” Edward asked.

“Fullmetal.” Roy hissed through his teeth.

“Mostly transportation records for weaponry and soldiers.” Anadis stated, but there was an edge to his voice. Suspicion. Roy couldn’t have that. “Some weapons, high-quality communication devices.”

“What kind of weapons?” Edward asked.

“Major Elric, why don’t you stop bothering the Colonel?” Roy suggested lightly, with a tone only known as forced to the three under his command.

With no rebuttal from Anadis, Edward backed off. He returned to Alphonse’s side, sulking. Roy chewed his lip. Calm. Calm. 

“Colonel Anadis, you spoke of high-quality communication devices?” Roy asked, voice airy. His research said that the man was a Lieutenant in the Ishval War, specialising in communications and machines. It was bound to at least loosen him up a bit.

“Yes, I did. Clear, instant communication with Central Command.” Anadis explained.

Roy hummed, voice high and nonchalant. “Even out in the countryside? When I went to recruit Major Elric at Resembool, I could barely call my office in East City to check in with my second-in-command.”

“Almost all public and private lines are like that.” Anadis responded, and Roy could tell he was getting to the Colonel, a chink in the armour. The man continued talking, Roy humming in agreement or asking a couple of minor questions on the way. While all his aunt’s informants had said the man was cold in battle and clear-cut with orders, Roy managed to loosen his lips just by asking about phone lines of all things. Roy supposed everyone had a weakness. Some were just more… unexpected than others. He also made himself appear to be loosening up too, in order to get Anadis to feel more comfortable and easier to coax information out of. 

They were almost at Athnes when he finally got to slip it in. “Ha, and the rumours that the Philosopher’s Stones were put here after the war are a bit crazy too, isn’t it.”

“You were taught long ago to ignore rumours, weren’t you, Colonel Mustang?” Anadis asked, but his voice was much different than it was seven minutes ago when they first met the escort. Even if most people couldn’t tell, Roy picked up on it instantly. “Just a little information slip– we’ve covered it up well, it comes with being good with communications for the military.”

Roy caught Edward’s eye and winked, before turning back to Anadis. “Yes, but I don’t suppose you can alter records, right? There can’t actually be technology capable of such things, right sir?”

“Oh, you don’t seem like the type of young man to be interested in technology.” Anadis shrugged. “But yes, the Amsetrian military has made many technological advancements.”

Roy kept his smile up as the man continued talking. Of course he was interested. Not a middle-aged man rambling on about it, but he was still invested in what Amestris could do. Of course he knew that Amestris could easily fake their records, printing dates, anything the government pleased, and nobody could really do much about it other than protest. It enraged him that the military could simply do that.

He’d gotten the information he’d wanted. Athens had the Philosopher's Stones used by State Alchemists in the Ishval War of Extermination– to commit genocide of a whole race of people. Then, there was just the matter of making sure Edward and Alphonse didn’t become traitors of Amestris by stealing one. They had to do it quickly, and sneakily– so that the people of Athnes never knew. Or even, they needed more confirmation that the stones were still in Athnes, and their location.

He wouldn’t be able to get that again, though. If Roy made Anadis slip up again, the man was sure to catch on; he had to wait a little before trying something, or go for a whole new method altogether. They made it to the base. 

It was stuck to the side of the town, like a sore thumb. Where everything else was quaint little houses and dirt paths, the military base was a metal box sticking out of the ground and poorly covered up with leaves. Even the huge forest behind it didn’t do it any favours. 

Roy shot a look at Edward and Alphonse. Don’t comment on it. He just knew they were going to say something bad about the ‘hidden’ base.

“The base was modelled after the gruella tactics the Ishvalans had,” Anadis explained, “as they fought so well in the desert. Partially above ground, complex tunnels underground, to make it seem less threatening to enemy attacks.”

“How many people are on base, sir?” Hawkeye asked.

“One-hundred.” Anadis responded. “I have to return to work, but these soldiers will give you a quick tour. We will be expecting you to report to duty at 1800, Colonel Mustang. In uniform.”

Three hours. Roy saluted. “Yes, sir.”

The man walked away, the two soldiers with him saluting back. They turned. “Warrant Officer Tupolev and Sergeant Mirage, sir! This way.”

Roy noted down important parts of the base; they were only introduced to the ground floor and floor negative-one, but according to the two young, naive officers, there were two more below. When they were finally dropped off at the bunks, the two soldiers waved goodbye and said dinner was at 1700 at the mess hall. 

There wasn’t much to do, other than that. It was a bunker; soldiers were still at work despite not even being able to see the light of day. Roy scratched down all his new information into his notebook while Edward ranted about whatever stupid thing and Alphonse listened. Hawkeye, to Roy’s surprise, had decided to sleep. He supposed it made sense; the fact they were underground wasn’t something she enjoyed since getting and burning the tattoo.

Half an hour before supper, Roy started hacking, feeling his throat burning and lungs filling with smoke and dust all over again. He could practically feel the chemicals going through his body again, feel sand in all the wrong places and grime everywhere without a way to clean it. As it died down, Roy rubbed the back of his hand over his mouth and opened his eyes. Oxygen in, carbon dioxide out. Chemistry, chemistry. No carbon monoxide. No smoke, no sand, no gunpowder. 

“Hm?” Roy made the sound as he spotted both brothers looking at him.

“You okay?” Edward asked softly.

Roy cleared his throat. “…fine.” 

“Colonel, maybe you should see a doctor.” Alphonse advised.

Roy raised an eyebrow. “It’s nothing, Alphonse.”

“Didn’t sound like nothing.” Edward crossed his arms.

“It’s been like this for years, Fullmetal.” Roy commented.

Alphonse jerked his head-lmet towards Roy. “Colonel!”

“I’ll probably deal with this for the rest of my life,” Roy grumbled, “it’s usually triggered by being further south, so I was expecting this.”

“That doesn’t sound like allergies,” Edward accused.

“No, irritation.” Roy corrected. “Sand– it’s very fine, especially in Ishval. Then combining that with all the smoke I inhaled…”

Edward and Alphonse tensed. Roy furrowed his brow slightly. What was up with them? It wasn’t like Edward to be so concerned over a minor cough from someone like Roy. Even so, Alphonse wasn’t usually so troubled about Roy’s health. He really felt touched by their sudden, concerning concern.

“Oh.” Alphonse mumbled.

And it finally clicked for Roy.

Their mother. Trisha Elric.

“It’s nothing life-threatening, really.” Roy continued nonchalantly, “just some coughing. It’s like I’ve got Havoc’s lungs despite not smoking cigarettes.”

Edward snorted. Roy smirked. He was on the right track.

“Glad I didn’t wake the Lieutenant,” Roy sighed in relief. 

1700 rolled around quickly as he woke her carefully, ensuring there were no guns in arm’s reach. She refused to sleep with one while with others, knowing that she could most definitely be startled and accidentally shoot one of them– especially given the current circumstances. By the time the two of them made it to the mess hall, Edward was sitting at a table in the far corner with Alphonse next to him.

“Blegh. Only veggies?” Edward scrutinised.

“Oh, you’re a vegetarian?” Alphonse asked.

“Yes.” Roy hummed, adjusting his tray. He couldn’t stand the smell of pork or beef– it was the scent of burning human flesh and fat. He threw up once, when trying to cook it after returning from Ishval. He had a panic attack on his floor, left the stove on which set the meat on fire, and had the fire department called because of it. It was quite the night. Roy refused to try and touch either type of meat after that, or even go to places that were sure to have it. 

“Sir, I suggest you eat more if you are to be working overnight.” Hawkeye advised.

“Yeah, yeah, you’re right…” Roy grumbled, “I’ll pick something up on my way out.”

He poked at his food; a very sad salad. Being in the southeast side of Amestris, things like cabbages were hard to come by. The healthiest that could grow in sandy biomes were wheat and cotton; what Ishval did. He was barely paying attention to what his brothers were talking about, but when he tuned in, he already knew exactly what they were planning. 

“It’s fullmetalling time,” Edward grinned.

“Sorry about him, Lieutenant…” Alphonse sighed.

“Fullmetal,” Roy addressed, “don’t do anything stupid.”

Edward gawked. “What?!”

“You are not to go after a Philosopher’s Stone.” Roy commanded. “I gave you that information, I risked my reputation for that. You keep pulling dangerous stunts, and I might not be able to get you out of this one. Understood?”

Edward glared at him. 

“Elric. Understood?” 

“Fine, fine.”

Roy narrowed his eyes. “Lieutenant, keep an eye on them.”

“Yes, sir.”

He was escorted outside, with the spring air alive with the cricket’s chorus. The night was quiet; to be expected from such a small town. In the distance, Roy could see the barest spots of light from watchtowers keeping trespassers outside of Ishval. 

Roy wanted to change that. God, he wanted to change that.

It looked like it would start with a couple of dead trees. 

Roy was only out there for an hour. An hour, when an officer ran up to him. “Colonel Mustang, sir!”

“Yes, officer?” Roy asked cooly.

“It’s your subordinate, the Fullmetal Alchemist– he was trying to sneak into confidential records rooms.” He explained. 

Roy screamed and cursed internally. “He’s always been rowdy– kids, it seems, are always like that.”

“He could be court-martialed for this rowdiness, sir.” The officer replied.

Roy sighed, slipping off the ignition gloves. “Yes, I am aware. Bring me over.”

And the kid had the audacity to act like everything was their fault. Like the fact he was locked up in a small room was the military’s fault, and only soured when Roy entered to free him. His night was wasted practically pleading with Anadis to let Edward go, and understand what actually happened.

Roy deserved overtime for the strings he pulled to keep Edward from getting himself court-martialed.

He sighed and rubbed at the bridge of his nose, looking out of the tiny window near the ceiling. Daybreak. 

Edward had already lumbered off to sleep, and Roy resisted the urge to wake him just to chew him out.

Roy picked up the rotary phone to dial a number he knew like the back of his glove. It took three rings to answer. “Lieutenant Colonel Hughes here.”

He sounded tired. Probably not as tired as Roy, depending on how Elicia was.

“Hello, Hughes.” Roy greeted. “Do you know anything about kids?”

Wait. He fucked up. Backtrack. “Teenagers, not Elicia.”

“Why do you ask?” Maes hummed, and Roy didn’t miss the playful tone. “Get a girl pregnant?”

“No!” Roy grumbled, but he couldn’t hang up without an answer. “It’s Fullmetal.”

“What’d the kid do this time?” Maes chuckled. “Steal a cookie from the cookie jar?”

“Broke into confidential records rooms.” Roy deadpanned. “Knocked out a couple of guards to do it. What the hell do I do?”

“Shit, what?” Hughes was much more awake than before.

“I… pulled strings to get him out of it.” Roy groaned, uniform rubbing him all the wrong ways as he shifted at the telephone. “Took all night.”

“Roy, go to bed,” Maes advised.

“The hell do I do about him, Maes?” Roy asked. 

The earnest tone to his voice was unusual. He almost didn’t recognise himself, but after a night of arguing with senior officers and the law, Roy was too tired to care. 

“I think yelling would be a bad idea,” Maes finally decided, “but punish him somehow, right? He didn’t just disobey; he broke the law.”

“He always breaks the law, Hughes.” Roy countered.

“This time, though, it’s costing you your health.” Maes stated.

“As long as I can keep helping, I’ll be fine.” Roy hummed.

“Go to bed, Roy.” Maes ordered, “that’s the first thing you ought to do. When’s the last time you slept?”

Roy thought for a moment. “Two days ago.”

“Roy!” Maes reprimanded. 

“No need to use the dad voice on me,” Roy grumbled, “it was a nightmare. I woke up at three, and then came on this mission yesterday.”

“Roy. Sleep.”

“Got it, got it.”

“I’ll see what I can do here at Central to keep this under wraps– what the hell was that kid thinking?”

“It was my fault. I gave him some kind of hope– I’ll talk to him about that later.”

“I suggest making him do something he’d hate.”

“Take those damn platform boots for good.”

“No.”

“Bye, Hughes.”

“Bye, Roy. Sleep.”

He hung up with a gentle click, keeping a hand on the phone, almost as if it would steady him from swaying so much on his feet. His vision swam, eyes blinking slowly before focusing on someone standing next to him. 

“Sir, would you like some coffee?” Hawkeye offered. 

Roy looked up, wearily. He could feel his eyebags drooping. “No thank you. I’m going to try and sleep, too.”

“I’ll wake you at 1300, sir.” 

“Can you make it 1600?”

“No, sir.” Hawkeye answered.

“The lady doth protest too much, methinks.” Roy grumbled.

She did exactly as she said she would– he whined all the same, but the sharp cocking of a gun was like a bullet making him jerk up. He sighed and shot Hawkeye a look before beginning to change back into his uniform, heading out to the rest of the military base. 

“Excuse me, have you seen the Fullmetal Alchemist around here? He’s short, blond hair in a braid, ugly red coat. Sometimes has a huge, hulking suit of armour following him.”

Multiple no’s. Then, “they went to the library, sir. Not an impressive collection, but they were insistent.”

And so, Roy was directed to the library. 

He found them with no difficulty in the slightest. Alphonse wasn’t… exactly subtle, per say.

“Major Elric.” Roy growled. “Do you know how hard I worked on maintaining my sleep schedule?”

They jerked around– neither of them seemed to notice him, while hunched over something. Edward shrunk back.

“I woke up at one in the afternoon today, Fullmetal. Do you know what that’s going to do to my sleep?” 

Neither of them answered.

Roy kept his scowl, but fixed his voice back from the snarl to his smooth, ‘kiss-ass’ baritone. “Did you find what I sacrificed my sleep schedule for?”

“…yeah.” Edward sighed, shifting his chair out of the way.

Roy leaned in, between his brothers. Down at the file they were focused on.

His eyes grazed the words, typed words on the page giving a general summary of– “so, the Philosopher’s Stones aren’t here anymore.”

“No. The next page says that they were brought to Central, for further testing.” Alphonse couldn’t hide the twinge of disappointment in his voice. “The Stones were here at one point, but they moved when the rumours came out.”

“We fucking missed them.” Edward spat. “And I got in trouble for nothing.”

“Look at these eyebags, Fullmetal.” Roy hissed. 

“Yeah. No makeup is ever gonna fix that,” Edward hummed, “oh, wait. That’s just your entire face.”

Roy resisted the urge to shoot back with the kid’s height.

“This is why I’m punishing you, Fullmetal.” Roy clenched his fist. “One day, I am going to sit back and watch you get court-martialed.”

“Punish?” Edward suddenly straightened up.

“Punish?” Alphonse’s armour clanked.

“Punish.” Roy confirmed. “You’re coming with me to work, Fullmetal. 1800 at the entrance.”

He was surprised to find Edward actually standing there at the allotted time. Though, it wasn’t a surprise with Alphonse holding him there by the scruff of his shirt.

“Thank you, Alphonse.” Roy said pleasantly. “This is why you’re my favourite brother.”

Edward grumbled some swears under his breath. Alphonse deemed it safe to let go.

“You don’t have to come, Alphonse. From what I was told, you were with the Lieutenant the entire time.” Roy hummed, before his eyes narrowed. “Unless you were distracting her.”

“No, no!” Alphonse babbled, waving his hands around. “We were just talking about Black Hayate– he’s staying with her friend Catalina, who’s fostering a kitten right now!”

“I know, I know,” Roy chuckled to get the kid to calm down, “she would never let you distract her. Your brother just used you.”

They waved goodbye to Alphonse before exiting the base. 

“Come along, Fullmetal, this way.” Roy said, leading the way.

“Alright, Flame,” Edward spat.

Roy looked over, eyes narrowed. “What brought that on?”

Edward seemed to doubt himself at that. “Nothing.”

“Okay, Fullmetal.” Roy huffed, turning away again. Wait. Was that what brought it on? “Hey, Major Elric.”

Edward flinched. “What did I do now?!”

Roy snickered. “Nothing, Edward.”

Edward let out an exasperated groan. 

“Come on, Fullmetal.” Roy grumbled, searching through his pockets. In the depths, he could feel the smooth fabric of ignition gloves and the chain for his State Alchemist watch.

“Why do I have to be with you?!” Edward protested. “You did this by yourself yesterday!”

“I can’t let you out of my sight after that stunt you pulled.” Roy shot back venomously. “Not like I could really see you without craning my neck down.”

Edward seethed but couldn’t protest anymore as he followed after Roy. “So what’re you even doing?”

“Controlled burning,” Roy responded coolly, “you know this. I’m setting fire to the dead trees before they cause actual damage.”

“There’s better ways for any bastard to use Flame Alchemy than roasting a couple of trees.” Edward scowled.

“Do you bite your thumb at me, sir?” Roy’s eyes slid over.

“I called you a bastard?” Edward responded. “Are you deaf?”

“You have no appreciation for good literature…” Roy grumbled.

He snapped his fingers at a tree, the two of them standing and watching it burn. Roy kept the oxygen particles far from the tree, allowing the flames to die without burning the other trees. It was mild concentration– Roy honed his technique over years and years, almost a decade with Flame Alchemy. Burning a single tree in a huge forest wasn’t a big deal, but it was mundane practice. Calmer than what he usually faced, from boring paperwork to the high-danger missions.

It was also unlike Edward, to remain so quiet. It was almost peaceful– Roy watched the flames dance upon their faces, flickering and glowing across the crevices they shared. No bantering, no anger, no scolding… it was a bit nice. It was the perfect environment to just tell him, the sun setting and harmless flames near them to comfort Roy after his inevitable rejection. No yelling, no cursing, no arguing. 

“Flame Alchemist? More like Lame Alchemist.” Edward sneered, watching Roy burn down the twenty-third tree. 

He took it back. No way was he going to talk about fucking Hohenheim. 

“You know, Fullmetal, I actually enjoy these more mundane missions,” Roy huffed as he snapped his fingers, lulling the oxygen to disperse around the branches and only burn the core, to turn the decaying carbon to dust and leave everything surrounding it intact.

“You’re the Flame guy! Don’t you wanna blow some things up with awesome alchemy?”

“I did, Fullmetal. I destroyed sixteen cities in total.”

Edward went silent. Roy drew a thin breath– was it because of his alchemy, or was that just his mind? The environment around them used to be calm, for a full hour before it broke and he just stomped all over it. “Alchemy is not always for the people.”

“Mine is.” Edward said assuredly. 

“Iron Blood Alchemist; respected for his weapons alchemy in the Ishval Civil War.” Roy recited. “Same specialty as you, Fullmetal.”

“Fuck off.” Edward hissed.

Roy bit the inside of his cheek. “If State Alchemists get deployed to the front lines again, Fullmetal, I will court-martial you for every single thing you’ve ever done to disobey me. Do I make myself clear, Major?”

They went through another two trees silently, Roy’s snap and a small crackle of wood being the only large sounds with their footsteps and crickets butting in between. Through the remaining trees, Roy could see the military base. “Guess I’ll be a biting dog for a little longer, Colonel.” Edward decided.

Roy smirked. “Never follow unreasonable orders, Edward. Not even if they’re from me.”

And Edward could have teased him over that. That Roy had used his name, or that Edward was always disobeying Roy’s orders anyways, or that he was currently being punished for disobeying orders. But they both knew it ran deeper than that, so Edward held the lamp steady as Roy snapped his fingers at the next tree. Roy might have given him a lot of shit, but there were some areas they couldn’t trespass. Roy was scared of what would happen if he did.

But they’d already done so. They were talking about Ishval, toeing the line. Maybe Roy could… let the little black box inside of him free? Just tell him.  

But Roy couldn’t. Because he was scared.

At the end of the five hours, Roy had successfully gotten rid of eighty-two of the dehydrated, dead trees surrounding Athnes. “This should stop the forest fire.”

“And why couldn’t they just send someone else to do this?”

“Because nobody but me controls the flames.”

They returned to base, Roy’s eyes slightly sore while Edward’s were completely red. Shit, he’d completely forgotten that most people weren’t used to smoke. At least it wasn’t the dust of a thriving city, or the smell of burnt flesh. They smelt a bit like a campfire, and that was all Roy wanted Edward to associate fire with. 

Roy did his best to sleep the full amount of time until 0600. They were set to leave an hour after that, catching the first train from Athnes to Resembool to Clonhal and then East City. It seemed like Anadis wanted them out as soon as possible, too. Roy didn’t blame him. His own lead on Athnes’ military base was a bust; might as well scram while they could. 

The train ride was, yet again, an uneventful half an hour. Or at least, as uneventful as Edward Elric, Fullmetal Alchemist, could make it. One comment that stuck out to Roy was one from himself; “If anything, you should be known as the Catch These Hands Alchemist.” 

The conversation shifted and flowed– times where they would all be silent, others where they would be debating or arguing. A large portion was short jokes. Roy tried to teach Edward chess, but the kid chose black because it was ‘cooler’ and didn't believe Roy was telling the truth about how pieces could move. Yes, the knight could jump over pieces. No, the pawn couldn't always move forwards two steps. Yes, Edward was able to lose to Roy in two moves because he moved that bishop out onto the board. 

“Why do all alchemists do their research in the basement?” Hawkeye sighed.

Roy contemplated it for a moment. “Stay as far away from god as possible.”

“Sounds about right,” Edward agreed. “Colonel, do you do your research underground?” 

“No, but only because I don’t have a basement,” Roy shrugged, “but there’s the dreaded alchemy room in my apartment.”

“Yup. Life of an alchemist.” Edward shrugged.

Hawkeye sighed. No wonder she chose not to go with alchemy. 

Another five minutes. Roy looked up from his alchemy book to see Edward staring at him and Hawkeye. With a judgemental eyebrow raise, the kid crumbled. 

“Weird seeing you in non-uniform…” Edward grumbled.

Roy kept his deadpan stare. “You’re always in civvies.”

“Civvies?” Edward questioned.

“Civvies. Civ ilian clothes.” Roy clarified. “Really, you should acquaint yourselves with military slang, at the very least.”

“Like what? Dogs of the military?” Edward spat.

Roy sighed. Maybe he should be thankful that neither of them knew military slang.

The train from Resembool to Clonhal was in twenty minutes after the train from Athnes to Resembool arrived. “Make it quick, Fullmetal.”

“Why the hell are you following us?!” Edward shouted. “Creep!”

“I need to make sure both of you are on the train to Clonhal!”

The townsfolk looked over, studying them or waving at them. Edward and Alphonse waved right back, continuing to argue with Roy. The man with the cart looked over at them and laughed before giving them a lift to the Elric house. Roy’s brow furrowed as they stopped at the Rockbell house, getting out and walking down the dirt pathway. He looked into the distance. 

He finally had to ask. “...where’s your house?”

“Huh? You’re the one who told us to burn the evidence of human transmutation!” Edward retorted.

“I didn’t mean the entire damn house! Just the basement floor! Just the floor!” Roy emphasised his words, getting more and more delirious as he tried to process what the fuck those boys were thinking. The straight seven hours he’d gotten the previous night meant nothing in the face of both of their utter stupidity.

“We did do the floor! Along with the rest of the house!” Edward shouted back.

“I didn’t mean the entire house! Why the hell would you burn down your home?!”

“So we can’t turn back!” Edward’s answer.

“There’s nowhere to go but keep trying to get our bodies back.” Alphonse’s answer.

“...so you burnt down your damn house. There’s more ideal ways to make that promise! Besides, your second home is right there! Right there! Whenever you return to Resembool, you just live there! That’s your other damn home!”

“Shut the fuck up! You gave us the idea!” Edward yelled, making a window from above burst open.

“Edward Elric, what have you done to my precious automail?!”

“Nothing! I swear!”

“Boss. Boss!”

Roy blearily opened his eyes, vision blurry. Rays of sunlight streamed in from the window behind his desk, making Roy squint closed again. Ugh. His head was still hurting. He hadn’t even been drinking for the past few days! And he’d only just finished burning the reports from Athnes about Edward’s insubordination… whoever it was continued calling; Roy finally shifted in his seat and pulled his legs down from where they were propped up on his desk. “I’m up, I’m up… Hawkeye?”

“No, unfortunately.” The man noted, and Roy found that it was Second Lieutenant Havoc. “Disappointing to not open your eyes to a beautiful lady, isn’t it.”

“Not for me,” Roy yawned, sitting up and stretching. Havoc snorted. “Something comedic, Havoc?”

“No, nothing, boss.” Havoc snickered. “You just have the same yawn as the chief.”

“Edward?” Roy grumbled, fixing his hair as he stretched.

“Yup. Your eyes squint closed in the order of left to right when you yawn.” Havoc pointed out. “Then you blink twice afterwards.”

“That’s stupid,” Roy groaned, but his insides felt like they were molten lava, “did you come over and wake me just to point that out?”

“Nah, handing in the report from that mission two days ago.” Havoc answered. “Also, speaking of chief, he’s coming with Al in ten minutes or so.”

“Weren’t they supposed to be here two hours ago?” Roy sighed as he skimmed the report, “thanks for waking me up. To get us mentally prepared.”

“No problem, boss.” Havoc saluted jokingly before returning to his desk. “And it looks like Hawkeye is coming in with more work, boss!”

“Not again…” Roy buried his face into his hands. He could already hear the muffled laughs of his subordinates from their desks. Just a few minutes later, he heard the door open calmly. So not his brothers… at some points, Roy was hoping it would be them. Even if Edward’s grating and shrieky voice would worsen his headache.

“Sir.” Hawkeye. Roy looked up through the gaps of his fingers, barely lifting his head. “Glad to see you aren’t sleeping on the job.”

“Of course, Lieutenant,” Roy felt his headache get worse as she dumped a stack of papers on his desk, “wouldn’t dream of it.”

“These are to be done by the end of the week.” Hawkeye explained, taking her own– much smaller –stack of papers back to her own desk. Maybe he could pawn off some of the papers to his subordinates. They were all very well-versed in forging his signature. 

Roy took a deep breath. Not only that, Edward and Alphonse were to arrive shortly.

And as Roy finally took the first page off the top of the stack, his office door slammed open. Nobody flinched. Roy didn’t even look up as he signed his name. “Hello, Fullmetal. Can I hope that you’ll be paying to fix my door once you eventually smash the poor thing down to your size? I mean, the size of an atom.”

“Who’re you calling so short he’s the height of a singular atom?!” Edward shouted, and ah, Roy preferred those teenagers to all the paperwork on his desk. He stifled a grin as Edward came sprinting towards his desk, only to get picked up by the scruff of his shirt.

“Sorry, Colonel…” Alphonse sighed, holding Edward in place. 

Roy twirled his pen in his fingers. “Nice to see you, Alphonse. I only heard Fullmetal’s little voice at first, though. Your report?”

“Who’re you calling so short you couldn’t see even him when he first walked i–” Edward started, only for Alphonse to whisper something to him that made him calm down. They went over to Roy’s desk– Edward stalking over, Alphonse shuffling behind –and stood firmly in place.

“Oral report?” Roy hummed, sitting back with his legs crossed. “Sit down, Fullmetal, Alphonse.”

“Fuckin’ Laurelvale… those guys had some weird-ass accents.” Edward grumbled as he collapsed into the sofas. Roy watched his brothers carefully; out of the corner of his eye, he could see that while his team hadn’t stopped working, they were arguably less focused than before. Whenever Edward came in with his oral reports, which they had been trying out since finding Edward was basically illiterate with a pen, he always managed to make his missions seem like stories. A talent, Roy found, incredibly amazing would Edward not add all sorts of unnecessary details to the report and go off-track from what was actually important.

“Hm. And you… fixed all the property damage, right?” Roy narrowed his eyes.

“Yeah.” Edward shrugged.

“Except for the barrels of rum.” Alphonse pointed out, making Edward glare at him. “We can’t transmute the rum back into the barrels.”

“I suppose that isn’t the worst amount of damage you’ve caused,” Roy stated loudly, before leaning in, “and the lead?”

“Bust. A damn ruby passed down from their mother.” Edward grumbled. “Then distance transmutation for the ‘making matter out of thin air’.”

“One question–” Furey asked, from across the room. All of them turned to him, and he shrunk. “Not meaning to interrupt the report…”

Roy gestured with his hand. “Go on, Furey.” 

“What about the flames?” The Sergeant asked. “As far as I know, only the Colonel can create flames. Even if it was distance transmutation, how did they make the flames during your fight?”

“Oh, that.” Edward mumbled. “Al?”

“I saw some oil in the warehouse,” Alphonse recalled, “the very flammable type. You’d have to interrogate them, but I think they were setting it on fire before transmuting it to them in the fight.”

“Yes, I’d believe that would be the case. We’ll wait on the results for that.” Roy nodded. “Dismissed.”

“Tell me the address,” Roy ordered, for the second time that day.

“Why the hell do you keep asking us that?!” Edward exploded. “It’s like– the first thing you forced us to memorise! ‘In case you can’t go to the military, go to this address!’ Jeez, it’s overbearing!”

“I’m sure he has a reason, brother!” Alphonse added. 

“Well, do you recognise this address?” Roy asked as Hawkeye slowed the car to a stop in front of a familiar bar; at least, to the adults.

“Is this the place?” Alphonse perked up. A bit strange to see a suit of armour perk up, but Roy grew accustomed to Alphonse’s cute little quirks that truly made him seem like a kid.

“Madame Christmas Bar?” Edward read the sign aloud.

Roy didn’t respond and simply parked the car. They exited, Roy adjusting his greatcoat before the four entered the establishment. Jazz music over the radio, the permeating scent of alcohol and perfume, the antique feel… yes, Roy was home. Only a couple of other customers; a group of six at the front table, two at the bar, another smaller group in one of the middle tables.

“Roy!” A woman jumped into his arms. 

Roy smiled brightly. “Hello, Krista.”

Out of the corner of his eye, Roy spotted Edward making gagging gestures and Alphonse shivering. He chuckled and separated himself from her. “It’s five of us, today. Is the back table reserved?”

“Nope!” Krista responded, her curly brown hair bouncing as she turned towards the bar. “Not sure if you’d heard, but the toilets broke. We’re having repairs, so we aren’t having many customers.”

Ah. They were on a big information lead, then. 

Roy hummed. “That’s not good. Hope it gets fixed soon. Should we go somewhere else?” That's great. Hope that there’s a big break. Do you need privacy to do your work?

“No, no! We’re always happy to have you here!” Krista laughed, pinching Roy’s cheek the same way all his sisters did, tugging a little bit on the skin. She glanced behind his shoulder. “Hello, Miss Hawkeye!”

“Hello.” Hawkeye greeted.

Krista looked further and gasped. “The Elric brothers!”

“You know us?” Alphonse stepped forwards.

“Of course, you’re Alphonse!” Krista beamed. “Roy loves telling us about you two! The sweet one and the midget.”

“Hey!” Edward snapped, eyes boring right into Roy’s. He grinned and shrugged, as if he hadn’t been controlling the narrative to the only four people in the bar who cared about listening to Roy talk about his subordinates. Krista, Angelique, Dolores, and Aunt Chris were the only ones who would stay around long enough. The others would pinch and pull at his cheeks to keep him from physically being able to ramble on, and even so, when those four got tired of hearing his voice, they would just do that too.

“The Colonel talks about us?” Alphonse completely ignored his brother.

“Alphonse, after office hours, I can just be Mustang and the Lieutenant is Hawkeye.” Roy smiled. “Nobody is their military title when work is over.”

“I admit, it’s strange to see you two out of uniform…” Alphonse trailed off.

“I’ll get you folks started,” Krista intervened, “do they want some milk, maybe? A mocktail?”

Roy spotted a throbbing vein in Edward’s forehead, so he took over. “Strawberry daiquiri, then. Come along, Edward.”

He led them to the back table, all four of them sitting down. Edward huffed. “Why the hell have us memorise this kinda place?”

“Just in case, Fullmetal, just in case.” Roy placed his elbows on the edge of the table. “You know the military very well.”

“Yeah, and we’re their dogs.” Edward grumbled. 

“Apologies about delaying Liore,” Roy sighed, “I’ve already gotten you two tickets for tomorrow morning.”

“For all we know, that priest guy could’ve already dipped.” Edward spat, crossing his arms.

“It’s not my fault you got stabbed and hospitalised for two days.” Roy shrugged, his heart tugging in disagreement to his tone. “You could just be thankful I’ve refunded your tickets.”

“Maybe if you weren’t so useless up on that roof, we could already be in Liore!” Edward leered. “You could’ve just sent Major Armstrong instead of us!”

“Fuhrer’s orders, Edward.” Roy hummed. “He wanted you specifically to hunt down Issac McDougal. Wrong place, wrong time.”

They paused as Krista placed down four drinks; two strawberry daiquiri and Roy and Hawkeye’s favourite drinks. She’d even added straws and little margarita cherries for the mocktails. Edward seethed at the little sugary fruits, but ate them anyway. 

Alphonse made a little whimpering sound. Roy’s face fell. “You can come back once you get your body back, Alphonse. I promise, they won’t be running out of margarita cherries anytime soon.”

“I’ll write it down!” Alphonse decided, taking out the little notebook from one of the gaps in his armour. By then, Roy wasn’t surprised that Alphonse was already almost done with the little notebook. He’d been writing recipes in it for four years. “How is it, brother?”

Edward looked up but didn’t answer as he continued sucking through the straw. Probably because he couldn’t, Roy assumed.

“They add in lime soda, which gives it that bubbly feeling.” Roy sipped his own liquor, watching Edward. “Also some freshly-squeezed lemons, along with actual strawberries and crushed ice. There’s that citrus-y aftertaste, oh, and some maple syrup for sweetness.”

“Haah d’yu know?” Edward asked, straining. Ah. 

“Brainfreeze, Fullmetal?” Roy smirked. “So soon after dealing with the Freezing Alchemist, too…”

“Mustang.” Hawkeye used her warning voice.

“Shu’ uph.” Edward grumbled at him.

“Yo, Roy!” An arm wrapped around Roy’s neck, and he felt his hair get ruffled.

Roy quickly ducked out of the head grip, fixing his hair. “Hello, Hughes.”

“Hughes!” Edward and Alphonse beamed.

“Hello, Hughes.” Hawkeye greeted.

“Where’s Gracia and Elicia?” Alphonse moved to peer behind the man as if the two girls would appear into the doorway.

Maes sat down, waving at Krista in the bar. “Hey, I’ll have my usual!” He then turned to Edward and Alphonse. “It’s a school night for Elicia, and Gracia is on her period. Besides, I might as well see you boys off and have one last drink with Roy and Riza before they return to East City!”

Roy didn’t know what to expect from the two teenagers being told a woman was on her period, but was actually more surprised that both boys brushed it off and Alphonse started on a new subject. “Do you come here often, Hughes?”

“I guess so!” Maes laughed. “All the time when Roy comes to visit, though.”

“What, you don’t come and help keep business when I’m not here?” Roy hummed.

“Please. We know you support the girls plenty enough,” Maes shrugged, and Edward created the most disgusted face known to mankind. Even Alphonse, the damn suit of armour, managed a similar look.

“Uncomfortable, Edward?” Roy let a true smile crack.

“We didn’t have to know that, Hughes!” Edward mock-gagged.

“Why would you say that?!” Alphonse moaned, “especially in front of the Lieu– Hawkeye!”

“Hmm?” Roy’s eyes slid over to the woman. “Hawkeye, are you bothered?”

“No.” Hawkeye took a sip of her drink. “I find it rather normal.”

“Hawkeye, your idiot boss is running around giving other girls money!” Edward shot back.

“That’s rather rude,” ah, Angelique. She must have come down for a break. Edward and Alphonse jumped at her sudden appearance, “we’re not just ‘other girls’ to Roy-boy.”

“They’re teenagers, Angelique,” Roy huffed, “they’re always rude. And loud.”

“Teach ‘em some respect then, young man!” Angelique grabbed at Roy’s cheek. They always said he never grew out of his ‘baby face’ through all his years being raised by them, compared it to Xingese mochi the way it stretched when they pulled and teased… he whined until she let go and walked away to get a drink from Krista.

Roy rubbed at his sore cheek. “Really, I’m almost thirty.”

“You’re still a kid to them, Roy.” Maes teased as he took another sip.

“What just happened?” Alphonse was completely flabbergasted.

“That was my sister, Angelique.” Roy grumbled quietly, lowering his hand. “All the girls in this bar are like sisters– or, pseudo-sisters. It’s weird. They work for my mother.”

“Wait, what?” Edward lowered his straw.

“I’m supporting my family, Edward.” Roy explained. “You understand what that’s like. Except your family isn’t an entire business of women.”

“Aw, don’t tell me Hawkeye has a secret family too!” Edward rolled his eyes.

“You’ve met him.” Hawkeye answered. “Black Hayate.”

“They meant parents, Riza.” Maes chuckled. Roy still had no idea how he’d managed to get Hawkeye to allow him to call her by her first name. Roy himself was forbidden from doing it once Hawkeye joined the military, to keep a professional relationship, but somehow– Maes was allowed to. He was also allowed to touch her– Roy knew his Lieutenant valued her personal space, and she was far too scary for anyone to invade it, but Maes did so with natural ease.

Roy suspected that he could probably enter her personal space and not get shot, too. The last time he did so, however, he gave her second-degree burns on the top half of her back.

He tuned back into Maes’ conversation with Edward and Alphonse. “–you know, you two remind me a lot of him.”

“Of the bastard?” Edward spat, arms crossed like a little kid. “We’re nothing alike.”

“Trust me, Ed, you’re way more similar than you realise.” Maes chuckled, looking over through the corner of his eye only to find that Roy was already watching them. “Roy, have anything to say?”

“I hold no bias towards good candidates for State Alchemists,” Roy huffed, taking a sip, “I simply have criteria.”

“And Ed’s the only one you’ve ever personally hired!” Maes teased.

“I was looking for a man called Hohenheim,” Roy cut in, noting now Edward and Alphonse flinched, “when I stumbled on a piece of gossip of the talented Elric brothers. Thirty and thirty-one years old.”

Edward started cackling. “You were looking for thirty-year-olds?!”

“Well, the townsfolk told me that the Elric brothers were too short to be thirty and thirty-one,” Roy smirked as Edward started spitting insults, “and I found two people much better than the man I was looking for at first.”

“Well. In one case, only half of a person.” Hawkeye noted, and Edward choked on his strawberry daiquiri. Roy snorted, doing his best to let his smile crumble to dust as fast as possible. Only his Lieutenant. They all knew the rest of her sentence, too. No person at all for the other one. They remained silent to keep Maes in the dark.

A figure, from behind Edward– Roy looked up. “Hello, Madame Christmas.” Roy smiled. Edward blinked.

“These two aren’t mine,” she noted. 

“No. They’re mine.” Roy stated. “Fullmetal Alchemist, Edward Elric, and his brother, Alphonse.” 

She stared at them for a moment before slowly turning to Roy. “You sure you’re feeding the kid enough, Roy?”

“Hey!” Edward sprung up.

Chris laughed. “Just as feisty as you, Roy-boy.”

“See? That’s what I told ‘em!” Maes laughed.

“Mustang isn’t… feisty?” Alphonse said, but it came out as more questioning.

“He was much more sensitive about being useless when he was younger, Alphonse.” Hawkeye explained. “Thankfully, it’s died down a bit.”

“A bit?” Roy narrowed his eyes. The three adults looked away from him and shrugged cheekily. Those bastards. Edward snickered. “Stop laughing, shorty.”

“I’m not short, you bastard!” Edward exploded.

“Yup, exactly like you.” Chris patted his shoulder, but her eyes were only more suspicious. Ah. So Roy was going to be in the middle of a private investigation from her on a later date. 

“Madame!” Isabella. “The plumbing is acting up again!”

“My work is never over,” Chris sighed, “see you around.”

“Bye, Madame!” Roy waved as his aunt returned to the back.

“Madame Christmas… like the bar’s name?” Alphonse turned back to Roy.

He nodded. “Yes. She's the owner.”

“Have a little more respect for the woman who raised you, Roy-boy,” Maes teased. Roy flicked his best friend’s forehead.

“Wait, what?” Alphonse and Edward said at the same time.

“Oh, shut up, Hughes.” Roy shoved his best friend off.

“That’s no way to talk to your best friend!” Maes protested.

“Children, all of you…” Hawkeye sipped her drink.

Roy chuckled nervously as he heard her murmur that, taking a sip of his own drink as Maes continued talking to him. Chatting his ear off, Roy groaned and got ready for the long haul. By the time he looked up again from his own thoughts, he realised something was off– two missing?

That couldn’t be right. Roy counted again– carefully, despite the fact that one of them was a whole suit of armour, but it was difficult to spot Edward at times. Hawkeye looked up. “Mustang?”

“Edward and Alphonse aren’t here.” Roy muttered. 

“Maybe they went out for some fresh air?” Maes suggested.

“Madame, have you seen the Elric brothers?” Roy called out.

They looked over to the woman, a thin trail of smoke exiting her sly grin. “I thought I’d show ‘em around.”

Roy’s face went blank, as Hawkeye realised what she was talking about. “Oh, they went to explore Mustang’s old room.”

“Wait, that’s still here?!” Maes grinned. “Roy!”

“Wait here, I’ll go get them.” Roy stood, heading up the stairs and down the familiar hallway to his own old room. As he finally reached it, Roy burst in through the door to see his brothers inspecting some photographs on the wall.

“Hello,” Roy said cooly, “what are you doing in here?”

“Didn’t think you could actually, truly smile, bastard.” Edward quipped. “The hell changed?”

Roy strolled over, taking in the pictures they’d decided to investigate. Ah, from when he was younger. Him as a baby, sitting on his mother’s lap. His chubby little face grinning to the camera, sitting at barstool with papers filled with alchemy clearly visible in the photo. A little bit older, his first time going to middle school and surrounded by all his sisters. Older than that, presenting an award of some sort with Aunt Chris standing with him. Then, Roy with a then-complex transmutation circle that he’d presented for his second year at the science fair, getting first place. After that, standing in front of the Hawkeye residence with a suitcase and determined eyes. The final photo, furthest from the door, was of Roy in his new uniform right after earning his State Alchemist title. Just days before he was deployed to Ishval.

Every single photo, he was grinning with all his heart.

“Growth spurt,” Roy teased, “something you can’t imagine.”

“Hey! Who are you calling so small that it looks like he hasn’t grown since seven?!” Edward screeched.

“Shut your kid up, Roy!” A woman’s voice from down the hall, followed by a door slamming.

“Sorry, Ines!” Roy called back, before turning to Edward. “Women like their sleep. Be quiet.”

“Well, it’s a nice insight into who you were as a kid.” Alphonse said, armour clanking as he turned to glance at the room.  Alphonse was about to walk out first when he noticed something. “Col– Mustang! Is that your old alchemy notebook?”

Roy turned. “One of them, I think. Why?”

“Can I take it?” Alphonse asked. “Just– just to see! I promise I’ll take car–”

“Course you can,” Roy shrugged, “there’s plenty more in the drawer. I was self-taught before finding my teacher.”

They returned back downstairs, Alphonse emerging last with Roy assuming he’d put whatever notebooks he wanted right into his armour. Roy didn’t quite understand why Alphonse wanted them in the first place, as he and Edward were long past comprehending what Roy had written down, but it didn’t matter. It wasn’t like he was going to use them again. They would have continued rotting in his drawer or on his desk had Alphonse not asked for them.

“So?” Hawkeye looked up at Edward and Alphonse. “How was it?”

Edward shrugged as he collapsed back into his seat. “Meh. Boring, so same as he is right now.” 

“Brother!” Alphonse gasped. “It was interesting to see how Mustang was living when he was our age!”

“Oh, Hawkeye also lived there,” Roy noted, picking up his drink.

“Oh, she did?” Maes nudged Roy. 

He shoved him off. “After Ishval. Hawkeye didn’t have anywhere else to go.”

“So you forced her to sleep in your bedroom?” Edward scoffed. “You’re a sick man, Mustang.”

“Not in my bedroom!” Roy sputtered. “In this building!”

“You did tell me to sleep in your room, though.” Hawkeye noted. “It was only when the Madame found out that she got one of the other women to share their room until I got my own apartment in East City.”

“I didn’t– I didn’t–” Roy huffed, but knew he lost.

“You aren’t getting yourself out of this one, Roy-boy.” Chris called out. They all looked up to see the woman putting on a cardigan.

“To think you were the one to send them…” Roy grumbled, before noting her appearance. “Going out, Madame?” A lead you have to investigate?

“Yes, for the plumbing.” She responded. It’s a big catch.

“Good luck, Madame.” Roy waved as she smiled and adjusted her scarf, exiting through the front door. That one, he didn’t have to say in code.

Edward and Alphonse begin to tell a story to them– mostly Maes. The man became the most invested out of all of them, but yet again, nobody could resist the Elric brother’s storytelling abilities. Roy watched the corner of his eye as some sisters began listening too, pretending to be doing some task like wiping down a table or washing glasses.

“Damn, you boys get along like a house on fire!” Maes laughed when they finished, and Roy’s face fell as Edward’s donned a terrifying grin. “When I was your age, my sis–”

“Hughes.” Roy said solemnly. “You’ve made a grave mistake.”

“Huh?” Maes glanced over. “Whaddya mean?”

“Oh, Mr Hughes, how could you say that?!” Alphonse sobbed.

“Yeah– what the hell’s wrong with you? Telling that to two kids whose house burned down?!” Edward accused. Maes’ jaw dropped.

“You burned down your own house, Edward. It’s your own damn fault.” Roy grumbled into his cup, which only made Maes’ face drop further.

“We’re homeless because of it! We don’t have anywhere to go– our childhood is just ash and ruins now!” Alphonse continued crying, but Roy knew the boys well. That hint of malice in their voices for their sob story was what Roy had when lying to superior officers. 

Roy giggled into his whiskey as Maes started apologising immediately, bowing down to the two teenagers. Hawkeye had that same, tired expression as she also sipped, her leg thumping twice on the table, subtle enough for none of the other three to know.

“Will you tell them?” She asked, a whisper.

“Why ruin this?” He responded.

She held her glass up to her face; one sip left. “They deserve to know.”

Roy didn’t respond, dragging a finger around the rim of his glass. The bill was presented to them.

“So, Edward.” Roy addressed. “Do you have your wallet?”

“What are you, a cheapskate?!” Edward screeched, but his voice had a certain tone to it that Roy couldn’t place.

“Kidding, kidding.” Roy chuckled, pulling out the leather one that his mother had. Edward muttered some more under his breath as Roy left a large tip, winking to his sisters as they exited. The cool night air of Central hit, a breeze knocking them off-balance. 

Roy looked over to see Edward leaning on Alphonse. “I told them non-alcoholic.”

“It was,” Edward huffed back, “it didn’t taste like shit, at least. ‘M just tired.”

Oh. “The train to Liore is tomorrow morning; you’d better get some rest.”

Roy took off his watchcoat, placing it over Edward’s shoulders. Maybe Hawkeye asking him that so soon was making him soft. Edward shot him a tired look, but said nothing. That was how to really tell if the Fullmetal Alchemist was awake or not; by seeing how much he protested people caring for him.

“You guys will be okay with walking to your hotel?” Maes asked when they got to a corner.

“Give Gracia my regards,” Roy hummed, “Elicia a hug.”

“Do you even know me?” Maes smiled, smacking Roy on the back.

“Goodbye, Hughes.” Hawkeye waved.

“Come over whenever, Riza.” Maes returned. “Gracia would be happy to have you. And boys, feel free to come around whenever. Just bother Roy for the address. Since I’m telling everyone to come over, it’s really unspoken, but just come over whenever, Roy. Elicia loves her uncle.”

“Maybe don’t bother me,” Roy requested, and went ignored as Edward and Alphonse agreed enthusiastically. They waved goodbye and watched the man continue on his way home.

The rest of the walk was quiet– mostly because Edward was practically leaning against Alphonse the entire way, almost like he was trying to be carried but trying to not actually look like it. When they got to the hotel, Alphonse and Edward departed to their room while Roy and Riza returned to theirs.

She unlocked the door. “Colonel.”

He shut the door. “Lieutenant.”

“Tell them, sometime.” She said.

Roy didn’t respond as he went to collapse onto his bed– the sofa. “They aren’t ready.”

“Neither are you.” She pointed out.

“I hate it when you’re smarter than me.” He grumbled.

“I always am, sir.”

“Did you hear? Colonel Mustang brought his subordinates to the bar. Get this, he only brought Lieutenant Hawkeye and the Elric brothers!”

“Really? Just them?”

“Yeah! My friend was in the bar, at the time. He watched them all sit down in the back and chat, like a family!”

“Really? He’s seriously not hiding the parentage…”

“And then, when the Elric brothers went behind the bar, Mustang followed! Like he’s keeping them out of trouble!”

“The Hero of Ishval, at heart, is really a father, huh?”

“I dunno! The mental image is really sweet, though!”

The first time Roy researched human transmutation was not for the Elric brothers.

It was for his own pain.

Every soldier who fought in Ishval was given two months’ leave before returning to normal, civilian work for the military. Adjusting back to living a normal life, away from sand and gunfire and death and decay. 

Roy spent that time in the library. It was far too easy to put together a human transmutation circle, decode the circles and symbols and shapes required for the chemical reaction that was to ‘make those who committed it see every sin in the universe’. It was easier to put his mind to that one goal rather than think of all the horror he’d inflicted upon the world.

The first alchemy books he’d ever picked up warned him against human transmutation– the basics book. Other than that, it was an unspoken, unwritten rule. Human transmutation was alchemy’s largest taboo, whether the government made it legal or not. Master Hawkeye knew it. Roy knew it.

“What led you to… this, Roy?” Maes asked softly.

Apple pie sat between them. On the ground, chalk markings and small letters and shapes and symbols. Roy took a sip of water. “Maybe there’s a thrill in disobeying orders. I’m desperate to see someone, perhaps. I could be toying with god. Possibly, I just need something to do. I wanted to see if I could.”

“There’s many journals.” Maes countered. “You aren’t the first– who were you trying to bring back? Ishvalans? Your parents?”

“Who knows?” Roy shrugged. “Anyone who wants to.”

“You… I don’t know what to say, Roy.” Maes sighed.

Roy studied his markings. The materials for human transmutation were set, he had the journals and books and knowledge to do it, he had countless of experimental arrays and finally settled on one, but… he couldn't bring himself to do it. Something was stopping him. The childish thirst for knowledge and a lust for curiosity was burned away by Ishvalan corpses and damaged lungs. 

“How’s Gracia?” Roy asked.

Maes shot him a disappointed look. “She’s getting used to having me back. She’s wanted to meet you for the past month and a half.”

“Oh.” Roy mumbled, because he didn’t have anything else to say. “Would you like 800 grams of phosphorus?”

“What?” Maes hissed.

Roy glanced down at the notebook on the table and flipped to the last pages. 

Water, 35 litres. Carbon, 20kg. Ammonia, 4 litres. Lime, 1.5kg. Phosphorus, 800g. Salt, 250g. Niter, 100g. Sulphur, 80g. Fluorine, 8g. Iron, 5g. Silicon 3g. Pieces of DNA from the revived person. Fifteen other elements– minor amounts to be calculated. Possibly use pork– similar to humans.

“Is… is this…” Maes whispered.

Roy leaned back, looking out the window. “You know, I picked all of that up from the market. Any child could do that as an errand. This is the cost of one human body. Pathetic, isn’t it.”

“I… I don’t even know what to say.” Maes took off his glasses to rub at the bridge of his nose. “Shouldn’t you be coding these?”

“If I did the taboo, there are bigger problems than using an alchemical code.” Roy pointed out. 

Maes didn’t put his glasses back on as he looked up at Roy. Oh, when he did that, he was truly disappointed. Said once at the academy it was because he couldn’t even stand looking at the person he was so disappointed in. “What about your promise? To become Fuhrer, and fix this country?”

“You said it was a pipe dream.” Roy glanced back down at the ground. “Even if you were to support me… I’m not getting that far.”

“Shut up.” Maes spat. “I’m the pessimist. You’re the optimist. Why are you the one who’s giving up while I’m the one who’s deciding to put my shit together?”

“You didn’t raze cities with a snap of your fingers.” Roy responded, clawing at his fingers until he drew some blood. “You didn’t hear their screams through the fire.”

“What would your mother say if she saw you like this?” Ah, a low blow.

“What would she have said if she found out I was joining the military academy?” Roy chuckled dryly. “She ran away to be free from her body being used as others pleased.”

“What would Chris say?” Maes asked, gentler. 

“I don’t know.” Roy’s reply was disappointing. 

“She loves you, Roy. Your sisters love you. I love you.” Maes listed off. “Riza loves you.”

“Do the Ishvalans believe I deserve that?” Roy looked up through greasy hair and hazy eyes.

Maes grit his teeth, jaw tightening as he reached forwards for the pie left on Roy’s table. He took it out– a beautiful thing, no doubt cold after his walk to Roy’s apartment and then the talk they’d just had. She was a good baker. Maes was lucky for someone like Gracia. Especially after the genocide he’d just partaken in. 

Roy rubbed at his cheek, feeling the dull pain of a bruise coming, along with stubble and grease. 

“Do you want some ice?” Maes offered guiltily.

“Sure,” Roy hummed, and they went on like that.

Roy found the boys huddled together outside.

Edward was trembling; even in armour, Alphonse looked thoroughly shaken up. It could have just been Roy knowing his brothers for so long. He got away from the military personnel and got over to them. Above, standing. “You always manage to land yourselves in the worst of conspiracies, Fullmetal.”

“You sent us here.” Edward shot back, but his cracking voice didn’t help in making him seem angry. Roy knelt down, wrapping his arms around his knees to keep balance. At the same height as Edward. 

Around them, military personnel dashed around, taking photos and whatnot. Roy couldn’t care less about what the hell they were doing to immortalise the scene, immortalise what Shou Tucker had done to his daughter. The same way Roy had learnt Flame Alchemy.

He felt his stomach turn, coffee in his stomach sloshing uncomfortably. He remembered what he’d said a couple of days ago; barely a note. “Havoc, tell Tucker that assessment day is coming up.” Just those simple words tossed out while Roy was working on his own report. If he hadn’t said that, if he hadn’t told Havoc to deliver that message… would Tucker have been so desperate?

“I know. And I apologise,” Roy said softly, “if I knew of this… there had been rumours, but I learnt long ago to take those with a pinch of salt.”

“I almost killed him.” Edward heaved, and Roy felt his heart beating sluggishly against his thigh. His State Alchemist’s watch pressed into his chest, ticking monotonously. 

“You didn’t, though.” Roy responded calmly. “He’s been locked in a room with many guards. He won’t get away with this. I refuse to.”

“You barely know her.” Alphonse said, his tinny voice sounding like it was truly disembodied from the armour. 

“No. I suppose I don’t.” Roy admitted.

“Colonel?” Hawkeye was standing behind him, with an umbrella over their heads. 

Roy looked up, some water dripping from his hair to cheek. Her face was pinched in all the wrong places, Roy felt his gut squeezing as he studied her. It was wrong. She looked wrong– Riza Hawkeye was not a person meant to be distressed. “Ah, Lieutenant. Do they need me for anything?”

“Just a report, sir. Back at Command.” Hawkeye responded stiffly, body taunt like a bow and ready to fire like a gun. Standing rigidly as she did after her father’s funeral, with fear in her posture and shame in her eyes.

Roy nodded once. “I’ll be right there.”

He felt more rain start drumming against his head and uniform as Hawkeye walked away, her footsteps splashing over the cape of her uniform– something Roy knew she usually took a bit of care not to do. When Roy looked back at his brothers, he knew they were smart with people– or at least, knew Hawkeye well.

“Was Lieutenant Hawkeye…” Alphonse trailed off.

“She’s fine, Alphonse.” Roy looked down. Puddles were forming at his boots, making them glisten with the grey clouds above. “This case…”

The little black box was so, so close to overflowing. It was clawing to escape, twisting and jabbing and hissing to be set free. Roaring flames enveloped the box, in his chest. Tell them. Tell them. Get angry, let it all out and ravage the land. Ravage Ishval.

“She… she understands what Nina is going through.” Roy said softly.

Edward’s brows furrowed before his eyes widened with horror. “Colonel?”

Roy shook his head gently. “Don’t ask her about it, but… this case is hitting her close to home.”

“What… the Lieutenant..?” Alphonse whispered.

“Don’t say anything about it.” Roy glared at them sternly. “You just need to know that this case isn’t hard for only you. You two aren’t the only ones who want justice for a young girl who was taken advantage of by her alchemist father.”

Edward’s jaw twisted itself shut, and Roy closed his eyes and breathed the damp air. He always hated the feeling, even before being rendered useless in it. It clung to his skin overwhelmingly, and Roy could almost count each water molecule present in what he breathed in. Rain was nice, if not for the humidity that came with it.

“I have to head back to Command.” Roy rose, feeling his chest almost weigh him down as he did. “You should come. Better than staying here and remembering what you almost did. We’ll give you a ride.”

Roy stood there for a moment, watching. Then, Edward stood and Alphonse followed.

Roy’s heart didn’t stop beating rapidly until they all piled into his office.

Only when he sat down at his desk, his team surrounding, Hawkeye sitting on the sofa closest to him, Maes right next to her, Edward and Alphonse opposite to Roy in the room, did Roy feel safe. Feel like everyone was safe. In truth, however, Scar was only after two people sitting there. Roy rubbed the bridge of his nose.

“It’s my duty and responsibility to both of you, Fullmetal, Alphonse.” Roy squeezed his eyes shut. The team looked away.

“Just ‘cuz you don’t want your reputation to be ruined–” Edward huffed.

Roy dropped his hands on his desk at the accusation. “Reputation? Edward Elric, I am your commanding officer and legal guardian. It is quite literally because I need to look after you. I was protecting my subordinate and charge, not to mention–”

He went quiet when he realised that everybody in the room was listening in. Roy clasped his fingers, weaving them together before placing his chin on top. He shouldn’t be scolding them while everyone was watching, much less bring up such a subject as minor as their father when there were much more pressing matters to discuss. 

The only two people who knew what his next words would have been were people Roy was willing to die for, and they were ready for the same. Hawkeye and Maes were ready to die with some of the things Roy shared– or they had found out on their own. The same way he was willing to be buried with their secrets. 

The entire team had been in a tense silence returning to Command and being gathered near Roy’s desk, with Hawkeye’s military coat draped over Edward and Alphonse’s destroyed body hidden from view as they did. They remained quiet for another ten seconds, before Edward decided to speak.

“Why did everyone freeze up when they found out that guy was Ishvalian?” He asked. Many people in the room flinched.

“What brother means, is…” Alphonse took over, “we know about the Ishval Civil War, but why did everyone appear so shocked? Why was he after us?”

“I’m sorry about that, you two.” Maes replied. “Scar, as we’re calling him, is a serial killer. He’s murdered ten State Alchemists all across Amestris, and we only knew that he moved to East City because of Shou Tucker when we realised that you two were out there. It was my fault for not warning you about him.”

“No, it’s my fault, sir.” Hawkeye added while looking Roy in the eye. While her gaze was still dismayed from discovering the scene of Nina, it now held determination. “I told them about Shou Tucker and Nina’s deaths, but let them leave despite that.”

Roy shook his head at them. They shouldn’t assign blame on each other anymore. It wouldn’t get them anywhere.

“He’s also Ishvalian,” Alphonse repeated, “so is this something to do with the war?”

“Now that we know that fact, it is the most likely reason.” Falman agreed. 

“Were you two even alive when it happened?” Roy pointed out.

“Hey! We’re not that young!” Edward exploded. “Eight and nine when it ended!”

“But mom and Pinako kept us away from the papers so we wouldn’t know what was going on…” Alphonse revealed, “only little things. We could see the smoke from Resembool, it caused some lung problems.”

Roy flinched. There were only a handful of State Alchemists who could do something that would cause a chemical reaction that resulted in combustion and smoke, and he was one of them. Most of the others had killed themselves, handed in their watches, or gone to mental asylums. “Did you two do any research on the war? Or is it too early to teach that in school…”

Edward and Alphonse looked between each other, before Edward returned to fiddling with his missing arm port while the younger answered. “Not really. We’re more focused on other things.”

“Of course.” Roy was the one giving them pointers and materials for the Philosopher’s Stone. He glanced at Hawkeye and Maes; his other subordinates weren’t enlisted during the war, or weren’t stationed at the front like the three of them were. 

He started to speak. Talked about the beginnings, the horror. Roy had to make it vague to keep the little black box closed firmly; letting his younger brothers know what a monster both their father and brother were wasn’t going to end well for his own mental self. If he spoke of any experiences he actually had, Roy didn’t think he could make it through the rest of the day with everything that had already happened.

Red eyes stared at him with pure fear. Guns raised to him, stark white hair muddled with dust.

Nothing personal. Roy couldn’t let himself say anything personal or else the little black box would break.

The fear from seeing Edward laying pathetically in the middle of the street as Scar reached out to kill him was already making Roy much more jumpy than usual. Along with finding the man to be an Ishvalian… Roy couldn’t even be sure if he had killed that man’s family. He did his best to remember everything he’d done, every terrible bit– but at the beginning of his place at the front lines, Roy had desperately tried to forget. After Kimblee, however… Roy did his best to remember.

If anything, seeing an Ishvalian six years after the war ended was enough to make Roy return to alcoholism; the fact that the man had tried to kill his little brothers just set him off further. 

“That’s nonsense.” Edward decided. Roy glanced up through his lashes, at the kid who suddenly stood up from the edge of the sofa. “There’s no justification for dragging people who had nothing to do with that into his revenge. He’s just dressing up his ugly lust for revenge by calling himself an agent of god and acting all arrogant.”

Roy felt like he just aged another decade. Edward was completely correct, in that part. If Roy had just decided to go for a walk instead, then Edward wouldn’t have gone through that kind of experience, and Roy could have taken his deserved spot under Scar’s destructive, vengeful hand. He still had all his goals– reasons to continue on, but if it just meant that Edward and Alphonse would not be targeted by Scar, Roy wouldn’t hesitate to take that spot. 

Roy couldn’t change what had already happened, though. The only thing he could be glad of was that Edward and Alphonse escaped that encounter alive– unlike the ten, much stronger State Alchemists that Scar had already killed. Roy would usually call himself a master at hiding emotions and presenting the most attractive ones during the moment, but seeing Edward, drenched and face tight with pain, sitting pathetically on the ground– he couldn’t. His face burned with rage, vision turning red for a split second as if he was back in the centre of roaring flames in Ishval at that moment when he shot his gun into the air.

The image of Edward laying helplessly under Scar’s hand was permanently seared into Roy’s mind, and he refused to let that happen again.

Edward didn’t fully understand what happened during the Ishval Civil War; and Roy didn’t want him to ever find out what monstrous acts Roy had committed simply because he was ordered to– the things that Scar and his people had to go through under his alchemy, his snap. Roy would keep the two Elric brothers as far away from such an ordeal. However, there was a more pressing matter for him.

“The fact still stands that he’s coming after both of us.” Roy responded. “And we can’t just allow ourselves to be killed, either. Next time we meet, there won’t be any more talk.”

“We crush him.” Edward huffed. 

“Yes, sir.” All his subordinates nodded.

It was a snowy day, and Master Hawkeye had abruptly left the previous night.

Roy didn’t know the reason. He supposed it was to be expected from such a… strange master, but to skip out on Riza’s home-cooked dinner… they ate in silence, Riza poking at her food opposite to Roy eating cautiously. There was some sort of tense silence on that winter night when he went to bed with the candle burning out and Master Hawkeye still out. 

The next morning, Roy was met with cold toes and his water on the bedside table almost freezing cold. He quickly shuffled on a hoodie and padded out of his small room, looking around for either Hawkeye.

“Riza?” Roy tried. “Master Hawkeye?”

Nothing. He checked around the house– knocking gently on their doors, going in and out of rooms, finding nobody. Then, he noticed both of their shoes were gone from the front foyer. They were both out?

Maybe he could find Riza nearby? He knew she spent a lot of time in the forests around the house, and she only went shopping on Saturdays. Roy knew that she probably wouldn’t return home if she wasn’t forced to do chores and cook dinner, or go to school. It reminded him of a tomcat who would only return for food and a night’s sleep before leaving once more– she was almost like a fae, he thought wryly. 

“Riza?” Roy called again.

“Mr Mustang.” She breathed.

Her back was turned to him, focused on something– Roy stepped through the snow, cursing the fact that Central didn’t have boots made for snow because it barely got more than a couple centimetres each year. He felt some of the ice leaking onto his already-freezing feet as he stood next to her crouched figure.

He leaned down to see what she was looking at. Some kind of stone peeking out of the top layer– polished with alchemy. 

“What’s this?” Roy asked.

“My mother’s gravestone.” She responded.

“Oh.” He’d asked about the woman once. 

“Her death anniversary is today,” Riza hummed, “apologies about my father.”

“None needed,” he joined her on the snowy ground. She went out to this part of the woods often; was she visiting her mother’s grave all those times? “It isn’t your fault. I’m sorry about your loss.”

They stayed in silence for a little longer. Snow fell, creating a purified landscape around the shabby house and too-thin clothes, on the small stone to mark the grave of a woman Roy never knew but created one of the most special people in his life. Master Hawkeye’s answer to his question as to the location of his wife was simple– she’s with god now. He hadn’t asked further; hadn’t known she was buried in their backyard. 

Roy looked over cautiously. “Did you know her well?”

Riza took a second to respond. “No. I feel like if I did, I would have liked her.”

“I feel the same way.” Roy agreed.

“Your mother?” Riza clarified.

He told her about his mother. A woman who had died when he had been too young. A woman who had always been smiling, always laughing, always so proud of him. A woman whose wallet he used as his own.

He told her about his aunt. A woman who ran the biggest information network in Amestris. A woman who was proud of herself, who did things her way or no way at all. A woman who only wanted the best for him, for him to grow up right.

After hearing all of that, it was natural for Riza to ask. “Your father?”

“I don’t have one.” Roy responded, and he felt it in his heart.

She didn’t pry further and stood up. “Would you like some hot chocolate?”

Mm. He would have preferred coffee, but Riza was twelve. He nodded instead.

“Colonel Roy Mustang speaking.”

“Oi, Colonel bastard.”

“Hello, Fullmetal. Are you actually checking in with me instead of disappearing from Amestris for two weeks before suddenly reappearing in some random train station or my office?”

“Shut up, Winry told me to check in. Just got my arm back, so I fixed Al’s body. Scar really broke every single piece in it.”

“You might have wanted to tell her to make your arm lighter; the reason you’re so short might be because it’s weighing you down.”

“Who’re you calling so short that he can’t lift his own damn arm off of the ground?!”

“Bye, Fullmetal! We miss you at the office, but it is a strain on the neck to look so far down!”

“Oh, shut up! Sarcasm is about as good-looking as your face once I punch it with my new arm!”

Roy stood firm as he put down the phone.

He remained standing as that call echoed through his mind. Lieutenant Colonel Maes Hughes was shot in a phone booth last night.

Oh, god. Maes was dead.

That phone call from last night. The one without the answer.

Roy took a deep breath. He didn’t feel real. None of it felt real.

The little black box in his heart felt full and empty at the same time.

“Lieutenant, I’m leaving.” Roy said, and it felt like he was hundreds of kilometres away. It felt like he wasn’t even in his office at East Command, seven in the morning. His body was like a vessel his mind wasn’t equipped to drive, and yet, he was still doing it. Because he had to. Because the world did not end when Maes Hughes’ life did.

“Sir?” Hawkeye looked up, but she was all blurry to him. Roy couldn’t care less if she pulled out her gun; he walked around his desk and to the door. “Sir, are you alright?”

Roy simply continued onwards, out of his office. Mutedly, he could hear his men calling out, asking if he was alright. He walked out of command. He walked past his car, walked all the way down to the train station. At one point, he got the telltale signs that someone was following him, but who gave a shit. They stopped following him. And he purchased a ticket. His head was all foggy. Roy couldn’t think. Everything was passing by so quickly. 

He remained in that sort of… detached state the entire four-hour ride. Roy just stared forwards– it was like riding home after Ishval all over again. Except this time, there would be no Maes to help him. Comfort him. Support him. Nobody to stop him from committing the ultimate taboo, doing human transmutation like he’d sought to do so many years ago. Nobody to bring their girlfriend’s apple pie and punch some sense into him, tell him that doing human transmutation was stupid and that it wouldn’t help anyone. 

All Roy could do was support his family, now.

As he got off the train, the sun was high in the sky. He barely noticed himself walking the streets of Central, stopping at the first street florist he saw. Purchasing some hyacinths, continuing on his journey. Letting his feet carry him forwards, to the too-familiar building, up the flights of stairs, down the hall. To that door.

Two knocks and then a tap from the foot.

That was their code. That was the code Roy trusted.

Roy stood firm as the door opened.

Roy stood firm as tears started dripping from his eyes.

Oh. The little black box in his heart had a leak.

Gracia took him into her arms, and they wept. 

“Mama? Uncle Roy?” Elicia. She was standing closeby, in the kitchen. Gracia loosened her hold on him, letting him step inside as she gently shut the door. 

“Hi, Elicia.” Roy greeted, his voice raw. He wiped away his tears and cleared his throat to kneel down, presenting the bouquet to her. “I don’t get to visit often, so I brought a present.”

She didn’t respond as she took the flowers. It was probably confusing to her. Roy shakily smiled and patted her head as she held the hyacinths close. He stood, turning back to Gracia. The woman was wiping away her own tears. “My absolute condolences.”

“Please. He almost seemed closer to you than me,” Gracia’s voice broke as she glanced over to the wall. Roy followed her vision, to the frame in the centre. Taken merely a year ago, the photo with the Hughes’ family mixed with Roy and Hawkeye on the other side. Maes with his arm wrapped gently around Gracia, Roy’s arm placed firmly over Maes’ shoulder, Hawkeye not touching but lingering close to Roy. Elicia standing between her parents, perfectly content. Each of them were happy. In their own ways, they were showing they were happy. 

“He loved you two with all his heart.” Roy attempted to swallow the lump in his throat. 

“Elicia, why don’t we get a vase for Uncle Roy’s flowers?” Gracia offered, heading for the kitchen. “Mr Roy, would you like anything? I… the train from East City is long.”

“I don’t– I could use some water,” Roy said, managing to step into the kitchen. Standing there was grounding. Like he was going to have dinner with the family again, listen to Elicia’s stories from school and eat Gracia’s delicious food and hear Maes’ camera click again. 

The glass was placed on the table. Gracia gestured at it. “Please, sit down. You’re shaking,”

Oh. So he was.

Roy practically collapsed into the dining room chair. He tried to reach for the water; his hands were trembling too much. Elicia’s big green eyes blinked up at him. Oh, god. Maes wouldn’t be able to walk her down the aisle. Or meet her first significant other. Or see her off to school, or watch over her. Elicia lost her father. Elicia was three. At least– at least Roy was able to remember his mama.

They remained silent, for a little longer. Roy staring at his water, Gracia staring at him, Elicia staring at her mother.

“Do you– know the details?” Gracia finally asked.

Roy shook his head slowly. “No. Just the– just the basics. The funeral is in two days, correct?”

“Custom for military services,” Gracia’s jaw clenched, “Brigadier General, now.”

“So he is.” Roy mumbled. How was Maes supposed to help him to the top if he was to be buried six feet below? If he was a rank higher than Roy? “Gracia. Know that I am always here to help.”

She looked at him, finally. Gracia turned her eyes from Elicia to Roy and he continued. “Now that I’m posted in Central–” Central, which Maes had always been pushing for Roy to get promoted to, “–I’ll be closer than ever. If you need anything– I mean, anything –come to me. Please.”

Gracia nodded. “Thank you, Mr Roy.”

“Do you need anything right now?” Roy offered. “I’ll stay here all day. As long as you need.”

“But– your work,” Gracia realised.

Roy shook his head, leaning forwards to place his hand on hers. His sister-in-law’s, practically. “I’ve already called in sick. It doesn’t matter; I haven’t taken vacation in three years. Plenty of leave to cash in if you need it.”

Gracia let out a sob, and Roy leaned forwards to catch her in a hug. From below, Roy spotted Elicia clambering into their embrace, her little voice asking questions. Roy adjusted his arms to take her into the hug, too. He was going to step up as a godfather for her. For Maes. As much as Roy despised Maes for telling him to get a wife, that didn’t mean Roy hated all wives. He loved Gracia like a sister. Elicia like his niece. 

He was going to step up as an officer in the military and figure out who the fuck did this. Who broke this family, one Roy knew had been trying so hard to be happy. Who were actually happy. Who weren’t a mess like Roy’s weird mix of adopted and biological family, or hadn’t been utterly broken by Ishval with wives and girlfriends leaving their traumatised soldiers. The Hughes’ had stuck with each other. It was all broken by a single bullet.

“Gracia. I promise you, I will find who did this.” Roy whispered.

He felt her shaky nod into his shoulder, damp with tears.

It seemed like he was always useless when he was damp.

“Yo, Fullmetal.”

Fullmetal, who was not supposed to be there.

Roy turned, seeing the boy out of the corner of his eye. The look on his face was jarring; eyes widened with horror, mouth in the middle of clenching tight or letting his jaw hang open, eyebrows furrowed and shadows casting over his face with the streetlights. Roy quickly caught onto how Edward’s body was almost trembling, shivering as he inhaled and exhaled deep breaths. His fists were clenched tight as he stood firm. 

Damn it! Edward wasn’t a part of the plan. He was supposed to be staying in the hotel with Alphonse and Ms Rockbell; away from everything Roy set up. If he hadn’t been so quick to act, then Edward could have spotted the plan; a good insight on his part. Could he use Edward’s sudden appearance to his advantage? Edward was known for his emotional reactions; it had to be real. There was no going back now that Edward had stumbled into his plan.

Roy wanted to be the opposite. He had to be the opposite. Where Edward had the freedom to be fiery and loud, Roy had to keep cool and calm. He had to remain calm, or else his facade would slip and the plan would be blown. Roy felt that Edward had realised it was a mask Roy had to wear long ago, but looking at his horrified face, Roy started to doubt that. His heart was beating rapidly, making its way up to his throat, but Roy kept his hands still and limp.

Between them was a thin layer of smoke, but would it be enough for Roy to cover his tracks?

He had to make a choice. Tell Edward or remain silent?

“What’s going on here?” Edward’s voice was shaking like a leaf, too. “What’s going on here, Colonel?!”

Roy turned his full body over. Standing head-on with Edward. He had to act the part; it had to seem real. He had to sell it to Edward first and foremost, because that kid’s reaction was all he needed to sell to the higher-ups to ensure Maria Ross was truly dead and that he had not broken her out. It was a genius move, if he could pull it off. Roy adjusted his glove, facing the array to Edward.

“Why… why did Colonel Hughes…” Edward muttered, “why is Lieutenant Ross…” Edward jumped forwards; around the blackened body and right to Roy’s uniform coat. He grabbed on with both hands and pulled. Roy felt his knees buckle as Edward dragged him down a bit, rageful face right in front of Roy’s monotone, “why didn’t you say anything?!”

Oh. Between all the people who could truly break his heart, Roy hadn’t expected it from his kid brother.

The little black box was howling for him. Roy placed inside everything that was happening to him. It would stay there forever and never get to see the light of day. Filed away like another piece of paperwork, to rot in a grave Roy refused to acknowledge other than the brief encounters that he would shove inside to forget. It wasn’t real. It wasn’t real. Edward didn’t understand. 

Roy shuffled off his right glove and placed his hand on Edward’s human arm. Then, he squeezed.

Just like his sisters taught him. When a man did something uncomfortable and grabbed at your clothes, you could grab his hand and twist as hard as possible. Immediately, it would get the hand off your body and make the man go into some temporary pain from his hand being turned in such an unnatural way. Roy was also taught to kick them in the balls, but he refused to do that to his brother who meant no harm. All he needed was for Edward to let go of him.

Edward let out a cry and stumbled backwards, tripping over a loose stone. Roy reached up with his left hand and adjusted his uniform collar again. Nobody got to touch him like that. He had too many memories of superior officers trying to see what skills he’d picked up at the bar. “You would raise your hand to a superior officer? Don’t forget your place.”

And oh, he felt exactly like one of those perverted men when he said that.

Cold and angry.

Hello again, little black box. I have another memory for you.

Edward turned again, that face showing. Broken and confused, eyes blown wide and shining with huge tears building up but not quite coming out. Just like Roy when he first joined the military, innocent and hopeful only to get those impressions crushed by the horrors of Ishval. Edward charged again. Roy spotted a flash of metal from the corner of his eye, and stood still. He knew when his enemy would be unable to attack. 

Wherever Edward went, Alphonse was quick to follow.

Roy ignored his heart beating out of his chest as Alphonse held Edward back.

“No, brother!” Alphonse shouted.

Edward struggled in his grip. “Let me go, Al!”

“I said no!”

“That bastard killed Lieutenant Ross!”

Roy turned back to the street. He couldn’t watch the reaction again. He had to wait for the military to arrive; to take away the fake body for it to be examined by Doctor Knox, hopefully and most likely. Leave Edward and Alphonse to do the rest of the acting right for him– at least they wouldn’t have to fake it, like him. Make it more real for anyone who questioned them, and then knowing the military, would truly throw away the case as ‘closed’. To finally pin it on someone who couldn’t fight back.

“Lieutenant Ross?” A gasp. “What is the meaning of this, Colonel?!”

Roy stopped. He might as well feed them a bit more information to make the case seem more convincing, rile them up further. “There were orders to shoot the fugitive Maria Ross on sight. That’s all.”

“That’s all?!” Alphonse screamed.

“I apologise for hiding Hughes’ death,” Roy said, and he still had no idea why the fuck he decided to give them that kind of a bullshit story that would get revealed so quickly if not to save his own sanity, “but do not argue against orders. Do not ask for explanations. Just follow them. That’s what a soldier does!”

Would they see through it? The fact that Roy never took unreasonable orders again, that he always kept them from ever having to do anything like that? Did they know that Roy would keep them away from missions that were guaranteed to end with death? Would Edward or Alphonse remember that Roy always said no to orders to kill, only doing it when necessary? Did they truly not know him that well? Was that to punish him further, or praise his acting?

Hm. The little black box was working overtime, like when it was first created.

Edward and Alphonse remained silent. Roy kept his face neutral. “The military will be here soon.”

“You… you killed her.” Edward spat.

“I have eyes, Fullmetal.” Roy responded.

“Colonel… you– she didn’t do it!” Alphonse protested.

How was he to respond to that? Of course that random Lieutenant wouldn't have been able to kill Maes. She hadn’t been in Ishval– she didn’t have the eyes of a killer. She had the eyes of a hopeful young woman. Roy turned again, his coat blowing with the movement. “Don’t question orders. Just follow them. Now, as your commanding officer, Fullmetal, I order you to stay here.”

Edward looked like he wanted to disobey. Roy knew the look, his muscles twitching and automail glitching, that determined look in his eyes to do the exact opposite of what Roy told him to do. Except this time, Edward sat. Alphonse followed.

Oh. Edward was… Edward was scared of him.

Roy could deal with that. He could deal with that.

It would just go into that little black box in his chest, locked up with everything else. Out of sight, out of mind. If he didn’t think about it, then it didn’t matter. His feelings didn’t matter in the long run.

Roy made his way out of the alley and looked both ways– a phone booth, just some steps away. Could he trust his brothers with the ‘dead body’ of Maria Ross? If they went snooping, then they could possibly discover the hole that Roy blasted in the wall using alchemy. They could run. Roy turned back to look at them– Edward was curled up into a ball with Alphonse’s bulking suit of armour almost hiding him. They were right next to the trash bin, the hole.

Roy hurried over to the phone. He dialled the military, to Colonel Douglas, who was in charge of the whole Maria Ross case. He told the situation quickly; that he’d found Ross in an alleyway, she resisted, and he burned her to certain death. Roy gave the address and hung up, quickly dialling his next number.

“Breda. Operation is still a go?” Roy confirmed.

“Yes, boss. The Lieutenant is on her way.” Breda replied.

“I need you to get more supplies,” Roy ordered, “I’m going to have you take Fullmetal with Armstrong. He’s too hot-headed to be hanging around in Central, it’s dangerous for the operation.”

“Got it. How long?”

“Mm. The same as the original operation.” Roy decided. “He just needs to stay out of the way at this moment. He’s just a child.”

“Chief would kill you for saying that,” Breda chuckled.

“He already will. He found me with the body– I think it would be easier to convince him that she’s alive if he actually meets her. I think I improvised well, but they won’t be trusting me any longer. As if they did before, though.”

“Shit, wait– I’m not taking Al?”

“Too bulky, and he won’t interfere with the operation.”

“Got it, boss.”

“One last thing, more of a request than anything. If there’s no good time, then just don’t bring it up.” Roy composed himself. He had to get back to his brothers quickly. “If you could… just tell Fullmetal not to grab near my neck. He did it when confronting me earlier.”

“You okay, boss?” Breda sounded much softer. Sympathy. 

“Yes. If you have the chance, just… somehow, tell him not to do it anymore.” Roy sighed. “I don’t really care how you tell him. Say I’m uncomfortable with it, or whatever. Him and Alphonse are waiting for me in the alley, so I have to go.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Goodbye, Breda.” Roy hung up the phone, jogging right back to the alleyway. Edward and Alphonse hadn’t moved. Roy walked over to them– and the smoking body. He looked down upon it. Would it be burned enough to fool the military, or have Doctor Knox legally be able to identify it as Maria Ross? If he was alone, he could have burnt it further to cover up any mishaps, but… with Edward and Alphonse… he couldn’t let them leave his sight anymore and couldn’t do anything without making them slip up their reactions. 

Roy shifted his gaze towards the two of them. Edward really looked like a kid trying not to cry; pouted up, eyes shimmering, eyebrows furrowed. Even if Alphonse didn’t have a body, Roy could tell that the kid would have been in tears if he had his own body. Roy stood firmly against their piercing gazes. 

He stepped back. It wasn’t like either of them would want him to sit with them. 

They stayed in that silence, unmoving pillars, until the military arrived. Roy finally peeled himself from the wall to greet them as soldiers crowded the charred body. Flashes went off as they started photographing what was supposed to be a beautiful young woman after being cooked alive– and Roy knew frighteningly well what that looked like. A Sergeant asked him for a brief overview of what went down, when Colonel Douglas appeared behind Roy.

“Colonel Mustang… tell me what happened.” Douglas said.

“The message went out that if she resisted, we were permitted to shoot to kill.” Roy answered calmly, glancing down at the body and officers surrounding it. Edward’s golden eyes bored right back to him, silently screaming. “She resisted, so I killed her.”

“I understand the Brigadier General was a good friend of yours.” Douglas joined Roy, then. They stood side by side as finally, some officers placed a tarp over the body and started preparations to carry it away.

“Yes. He was a good man.” Roy responded quietly.

“I don't suppose it was one of your men who broke Lieutenant Ross out.” Douglas stated, but Roy knew the man. Knew politics. 

“Me? Why?” Roy asked, both of them staring down at the white sheets.

“Why?” Douglas scoffed, “so you could burn her to death with your own hand.” 

The two Colonels separated to let the soldiers through, carrying the body. White sheets with black dust on them– the remnants of what was supposed to be human flesh. It was brittle and crumbling when they picked it up in the sheets, something Roy was silently relieved at. It meant that he’d carbonised the thing enough. Roy watched closely as they brought it over to a car. “I'd appreciate it if you avoided such speculation.”

Roy glanced over to his brothers. Edward hadn’t lost that broken expression.

“I suppose you’ll have to write an incident report for this.” Douglas said. “You can head back to your office. We can take this case from here.”

“Alright.” Roy said, giving a curt nod to Douglas as he stepped back and went towards the entrance to the alley, where people had already milled around, trying to see what happened. Roy could only imagine the rumours that would spring from killing Maria Ross. The headlines, his reputation. 

So soon after he was stationed in Central, too… Roy clenched his jaw as the military started sending in the cleaners. So, their investigation was practically over. They were just waiting on the official report and the autopsy– it was too easy. The death of a military officer should have raised more suspicion, but she was a criminal in their eyes… did they want Roy to push forwards like that, were they expecting such a bold move? He overheard one of them asking Edward and Alphonse to move.

Roy watched cautiously as the two got up, slowly heading for the mouth of the alleyway. Edward passed while staring down Roy with a murderous gaze, while Alphonse stopped jaggedly beside Roy. “Colonel… where is the autopsy happening?”

Roy told his brother the address. “You aren’t going now, are you? It takes two to four hours to complete.”

“And we’ll stay there the entire time.” Alphonse responded, stalking off after his brother. While people usually saw Edward as the angry one, Alphonse was just as terrifying, if not more, when he was mad. Roy knew that he was the scariest of all of three of Hohenheim’s bastard kids when enraged.

Calm. Put it all in that little black box.

The first thing he did once back in the office was place the pliers back into Furey’s desk. Roy spent the next hour cleaning up loose ends on his report about what happened, getting Hawkeye and Falman to proofread it for mistakes or inconsistencies before sending it in. At the moment, Furey was with Barry and reported that Havoc was to return ‘from visiting his mother’ in just an hour. Roy hummed and threaded his fingers together. He hated keeping his men late in the office, but it was a dire time. He needed them all on-board to set off the operation.

“Knox usually takes two hours to give an autopsy for my burned bodies.” Roy muttered, pulling on his greatcoat before turning to the rest of his office. “Men, head home. Apologies for keeping you so late– Falman, you’re on watch for the next two days.”

“Goodnight, Colonel Mustang.” Hawkeye replied, and Roy headed out.

The streets were quiet as he made it to the military hospital, walked the empty halls, and found the two people he was expecting. It was easy to spot Alphonse taking up half the sofa, and next to him, curled up, Edward. They reacted to Roy’s entrance and jumped up.

No words were exchanged as Roy glanced between the two. They were stiff as they stared, a huge pit forming in Roy’s stomach. He sat down where Alphonse previously was. It was cold.

Roy refrained from tapping his finger or biting his lip. They remained like that for a while. Edward and Alphonse standing, Roy leaned back on the sofa, arms crossed and eyes closed. One in the morning, and Roy was still on the job. His uniform was long past being plain uncomfortable, and to think he would have to put it back on again in six hours… maybe he wouldn’t even get the chance to take it off. If he wouldn’t be able to sleep for the rest of the night because the look on Edward’s face was going to haunt him, he might as well rest his eyes while he could. He was probably going to be sleeping in his office again… but the plan…

Someone else walked over, with two other presences. Roy didn’t have to open his eyes to know who it was that stopped in front of Edward and Alphonse. “I am truly sorry for not telling you about General Hughes' death.”

“It’s my fault.” Edward responded.

“Don’t be so hard on yourself. It wasn’t your fault.” Armstrong corrected.

The doors opened, and Knox limped out. Roy kept his eyes closed and prayed as the man started to speak. “So you’re all together, huh?”

“Doctor Knox…” Armstrong mumbled.

“The damage is severe,” Knox held up a clipboard, “but judging from what little was left of the dental work, I was able to conclude that this was Maria Ross. It's an awful thing, turning a beauty like her into charcoal like this. You must have held quite a grudge, Mr Mustang.” Roy let out a miniscule breath as he peeked his eyes open. The lights from above hit him, as did Knox’s suspicious stare. “Do you feel better now that you've taken vengeance?”

Roy huffed and looked away. So the man was covering for him. Ishval was a terrible experience, after all. An experience they had to go through together. The incinerator and the mortician.

“The Hero of the Ishval War going this far against a little girl… it makes me sick.” Knox walked away, and Roy heard a little tic from Edward. Roy took it as his own chance to leave; he’d made sure Knox had identified the body as he wanted, and it was time to try and sleep in his new apartment and wake up from a nightmare, or lay awake all night thinking and possibly have a panic attack. ‘Lesser of two evils’ was the saying.

“Colonel, let me take this opportunity to apologise for what one of my own men did.” Armstrong heaved out, and Roy stopped to listen. “To think that Lieutenant Ross could commit murder… she was such a straightforward, earnest, considerate woman.”

Oh. Armstrong was shaking.

Roy watched as the man sat on a sofa, rubbing the bridge of his nose. The real instructions would be sent to Armstrong when he was near a public phone line, but he could at least coax Armstrong into what was to happen. When he would get told of what he was to do, Roy had already made sure that he wouldn’t get told about Maria Ross being alive, or else it could spell doom to their operation if he was too excited to leave.

“Fatigue seems to be catching up with you. You should take leave. Back east, where I was– that's a nice place.” Roy’s golden eyes bored into Armstrong’s Amestrian blue. Made sure he was listening. “There’s no big-city hustle and bustle, and best of all, there are lots of beautiful women.”

Edward tensed his body and scrunched his brows as Roy shared the code. Well, he would just have to wait until Hawkeye properly briefed Armstrong on what he had to do, and what was to happen. Roy walked away, unflinching as something metal got knocked over. No cracks. No breaks.

He had to set up the chessboard correctly.

Roy awoke with a start. Just another nightmare, that was all. 

The hospital was dark and the curtains were pulled shut, but the lights of Central oozed their way under the fabrics and spilled onto the floor. He sighed, rubbing at his face. The pain on his side from Lust’s stabs continued slugging at him, the bandages pulling and sticking to the wound. His hand wasn’t in better shape– bandaged and searing with pain. 

He stifled a groan; Havoc was still asleep. Why the hell did he cut so deep into the back of his hand? The array hadn’t activated the first time he’d cut it into his hand; probably being too shallow or not having clear enough lines to be considered an array. Roy had dug Maes’ knife deeper into his hand, over the guidelines he’d already made, and rushed off towards where he heard the commotion and gunfire coming from. 

The three-headed flame at the top to depict immortality in blazing orange, the salamander for immortality to the infernos. The twin triangles showing time passing over flames burning and two smaller ones inside to portray a short-lived chemical reaction. Double circle as a safety net on the alchemist, doing so in most transmutation circles. One final triangle in the middle for the power of the alchemist and the balance of the rest of the symbols– a symbol that all transmutation circles held.

If that was what it took to protect Havoc, protect Hawkeye, protect Alphonse, Roy was willing to do it. It was a small price to pay compared to other things he’d done. He sighed and let his body go lax. So he wasn’t going to sleep for the rest of the night, was he.

“Don’t lose control again. Alphonse was in danger when you did.” Roy stated the next afternoon.

A crack in Hawkeye’s facade as she nodded curtly, eyes downcast as she did. Protecting Roy meant protecting his brothers. Roy also knew how much they meant to Hawkeye– she was right there while he was taking care of them, too. It was a bit cruel to her, but they were soldiers. He would never stop trusting her, especially not with them. 

“I’m going to continue trusting you to watch my back.” Roy finished. “Commit yourself.”

“Colonel, you’re not one to talk, sir.” Havoc called over. Roy jerked his head to the other side as his subordinate continued talking. “A commander who just waltzes in like that.”

“You shut up!” Roy felt his voice pitch higher with each word, until his stab wounds broke and let out a dam of pain, shooting like electricity through his side. Fuck!

“Why are we even in the same room?” Roy grumbled, beads of sweat forming on his forehead. “Ordinarily, I'd have my own room, with a beautiful nurse!”

“Please try to make do, sir.” Hawkeye sighed as Roy leaned back down into his bed. “Having you in the same room makes it easier to guard you.”

“About that…” Roy muttered, “why haven’t they come to kill us?”

“Permission to speak freely?” Hawkeye requested.

Roy didn’t give it a second thought. “Permission granted.”

“Down at the white area with the huge doorway, where you killed the Homunculus.” Hawkeye let her arms fall from her back to her sides. “That one– Lust –mentioned that you were a ‘candidate for a sacrifice’ while Alphonse was a ‘sacrifice’. I was wondering if it could be related.”

“She said something like that too, when she stabbed me.” Roy noted. “Candidate. That means I’m not actually a sacrifice– yet. I haven’t met the right conditions in their experiment.”

“You make it sound like science, boss.” Havoc said dryly.

“Alphonse and I– what do we have in common?” Roy muttered. “What makes us worthy in their eyes? Is Edward also a sacrifice?”

“In trying to reel in the person behind this broken state of the government, you’ve only raised us more questions.” Hawkeye pointed out.

“I’ll agree with you on that, Lieutenant.” Roy tapped his finger against his chin.

The door opened. All three of them looked over as Furey waved. “Hello, Colonel!”

“Hello, Furey.” Roy waved, his hand trembling incredibly as he did. He grabbed onto his wrist with his left to steady it. “Sorry.”

“Don’t worry, sir,” Furey smiled, stepping into the room, “you’re going to forget about your hand with the headache about to come.”

“What–” Roy started, only to wilt. 

“Colonel. Bastard.” Edward stalked into the room, and Roy knew his day was only going to get worse. “Why the hell did I come back to my brother in literal pieces?!”

“Brother, don’t!” Alphonse entered after. God, they were really like a freak show car where more and more obscure things exit! “If the Colonel hadn’t been there, it would’ve been much worse!”

“Not only that, why the hell did you lie!” Edward made it over to Roy’s bed, and he could see the rage from the kid’s face. He was angry as hell– explosive, yelling type of angry instead of the teary eyes and furrowed brows from that night. His voice dropped to not alert the hospital. “Why the hell did you lie to us? About Hughes’ death, about Lieutenant Ross’ death. Why the hell would you do that to us?”

Roy remained sitting there for what felt like centuries. The wound at his side curled and seared, feeling like the bubbling flesh and blood was there all over again, staining his uniform. His hand felt so heavy as he lifted it up to his collarbones. “I’m sorry.”

“What, you thought we couldn’t handle it?” Edward’s automail hand clenched into a fist as he grabbed at Roy’s hospital clothes. Distantly, he heard Hawkeye calling out for Edward to let him go. “Did you think we’d never find out? That we could just go about our lives not knowing, that you could pat us on the back and send us off and we’d never put two and two together?”

“No. I just… wanted to spare you… for as long as possible.”

And that was it, wasn’t it. At the core, that was what Roy wanted.

“And so you fucking kill a woman in front of us?!” Edward shouted, dragging Roy along by his shirt. “How’s that meant to help us, you bastard idiot?! Seeing that kind of shit is terrible! And then– you send me out to the fuckin’ desert to prove that it was all a scheme you kept us out of. I told you everything, about what I’d done, what I was willing to sacrifice, what I’d discovered but you lied because you can’t trust us, because of our age and size and–”

“That’s not true.” Roy brought his shaking hand up to Edward’s fist, feeling the cool automail and tiny pistons and gears under his fingers, the smoothness through the bandages wrapping his palms. He couldn’t listen to Edward spew on even further about such untrue facts. “I didn't lie because I thought you couldn't handle the truth. I lied because I can't handle it. I can't handle the thought that Hughes is…”

Edward let go of his shirt. Roy let his hand fall, painfully and pitifully, against his thigh. It should hurt more. It should hurt more for lying to his little brothers. It should’ve hurt more to commit genocide. He should be in more pain. Why was he on pain medication again? The Ishvalans didn’t receive pain medication.

“So you said all that because you wanted to believe it yourself? You wanted to believe… that he might come back someday.” Alphonse, suddenly. He moved closer, Roy heard the friction of steel on steel.

If he opened his eyes, he knew he would start crying.

Crying was weakness. In order to appear strong, one couldn’t cry.

He swallowed the lump in his throat, ignored the little black box, shoved away his squeezing stomach, and lifted his left arm to his face to drag away the tears before any of them actually saw it. There was no doubt to it, though– they knew what he was doing. Roy could only hope that none of them commented on it.

“H– hey, you’re a grown man, don’t cry!” Edward sputtered.

“Sorry, you’re right…” Roy cleared his throat and lowered his arm– blinking a couple times to get rid of the wet drops on his eyelashes. He turned to Edward; “how was your trip east, Fullmetal?”

“Lots of beautiful women.” Edward responded, voice hollow. “Thanks.” 

“What was that?” Roy leaned forwards, feeling pain tug at his side.

“Not saying it again, bastard.” Edward huffed.

“Breda told me that you actually said I was right,” Roy said with his egotistical tone, “am I correct?”

He pointedly turned his head to Hawkeye as Edward started cursing him and Breda out.

Ah, so they were back to normal. He was strangely thankful for that one little piece as his heartbeat slowed and breathing returned to normal. He managed to wipe his eyes again before glancing over to his other subordinate as Edward calmed. “What do you have there, Sergeant Furey?”

Furey stepped forwards, handing over the paper. “An errand from Lieutenant Hawkeye, sir.” 

Roy took them with his left hand, glancing through them. Roy grinned, leafing through the papers. “You know the anti-frat policies are the only reason I haven’t married you yet, Lieutenant?” 

“And every day, sir, I am thankful those policies exist.” Hawkeye replied, monotone.

Roy’s face shifted to a smiling grimace. “Ah. Of course.”

Edward snorted. “Hah! Get rejected, bastard!”

“What is it?” Alphonse asked. 

“Records from the military,” Roy hummed, “things about that prison, and their death certificates. Other records, things that incriminate the military and tie it all together.”

“Now what, boss?” Havoc turned his head over.

“Now, we hold onto these.” Roy decided, shifting each page back into row. “Put them in a safe place– thank you, Furey. Take these to the chessboard, covertly.”

“Yes, sir.” Furey said, taking the papers back. Hawkeye took the thick piece from the bottom as he did.

They watched as the man exited the room again, closing the door on his way out. Edward and Alphonse looked at each other. “The chessboard?”

“While I won’t discriminate against you based on age and miniscule size, I will on your irritability and emotions.” Roy answered, shifting out of his bed to sit on the side facing his brothers and bodyguard.

“Miniscule size?!”

“So, there are some things you can’t actually handle because of your high reactivity. You understand when I put it into chemistry terms, right? Mixing two specific solutions only leads to boom-boom.”

“I’m not two , bastard.”

“The fact that you say two and not twelve is a worrying statement, chief.”

“But as you mature, you’ll know more. Whether I tell you or you find out for yourselves.” Roy finished.

“Oh yeah– we haven’t told you about this yet.” Edward muttered, probably to himself, then looked at Alphonse.

“What?” Alphonse leaned down.

“Things got… hectic… after we found the recipe in the cookbook.” Edward looked up at his suit of armour brother. Roy blinked. Recipe and cookbook– some kind of code? 

“I do recall you two spending days secluding yourselves in Central Library…” Roy muttered. He’d been called about that on their first night because they refused to leave. As he was busy with the Scar case in East City and trusted them and their Lieutenant bodyguards, Roy dismissed it. He was also busy with the possibility of a promotion– to Central.

The two Lieutenants also managed to get Edward and Alphonse out only thirty minutes after the library closed– not as bad as some nights back in East City, where Roy had to get out of bed to drag them out and drive them home. It was worse when they were younger and only recently got access to the military’s extensive records. 

Roy remembered asking Maes and Armstrong to keep an eye on them as a small favour. And oh, that hadn’t ended so well– Roy also clearly retained the hospital bill he’d gotten from leaving those idiots to their shenanigans. He also recalled Maes telling him that the boys were looking for something, only a couple of days before–

“I’m sorry, I really did try to get brother to call you, Colonel, but everything was happening so fast. We found some alchemical codes,” Alphonse explained, “and spent that time decoding them. Then, we went to Rush Valley and Dublith before coming to Central.” 

“Not to mention your time in the hospital from the Fifth Laboratory…” Roy grumbled. “So? Did you find what you were looking for?”

The mood immediately dropped as Edward scowled and Alphonse looked away. Did they not find it, and were salty? No, they seemed much more disheartened than something like that. 

“Fullmetal? Alphonse?” Roy raised an eyebrow.

“The ingredients for a Philosopher’s Stone are human souls.” Edward stated, as if those words weren’t meant to break Roy forever and in a way that he would never be able to recover from. “They need multiple lives to be created. The only place to get so many sacrifices without drawing suspicion is from war.”

Roy felt his stomach lurch, twist, and churn. Oh. Oh. 

No wonder the little stone they’d given him was uncommonly warm, why it pulsed like a gentle heartbeat in his fingers, why it made his insides clench up when he was touching it, why it was smooth and yet shimmered with dozens of little reflections of faces and why he refused to wear it like jewellery when not using it. His first instinct had been to throw it away, crush it under his boot, snap his fingers and set it aflame. He’d felt them. He’d felt their souls trapped inside the glowing piece of rock, screaming as they were used to massacre a whole race of people.

When he’d looked at it closely, privately in the moonlight, it was like he could see something inside. Something swirling in its murky depths, like glitter in a viscous liquid or smoke condensed into a tiny space. Staring at it for too long made him dizzy and his heart hurt, so he tucked it away into his breast pocket. Out of sight and out of mind. The screaming in the back of his mind would be subdued. He’d ignored the sick feeling from the stone so he could remember the lives he took using it– not that those very lives were used to eradicate its own people.

He was really going to hell, wasn’t he?

“Sir, do you need a bin?” Hawkeye asked, gently but with force.

Roy brought a hand up to his mouth. The wound at his side seared. 

She grabbed the bin. He threw up into it. Edward looked away.

He didn’t finish vomiting for some time. From bile to whatever he’d eaten, Roy sat there with the bin in his arms for what felt like hours but was most likely five minutes, retching and hacking his lungs out. His throat burned like he’d just inhaled the smoke of ancient cities, pieces of holy scripts and traditional textiles and the remnants of religious glassware mixing in as he felt more coming up, more escaping from his mouth and splattering in with the rest.

There was no god. There was no god. Nothing should have allowed the cruelty of what conspired in Ishval.

And yet, it was simple science. Equivalent exchange, and what alchemists brushed over when discussing the Philosopher’s Stone.

There wasn’t anything else so unique that could be exchanged for an individual soul. Nothing could match the true value of a soul.

The little black box reappeared, so Roy placed that new information snugly inside.

Roy leaned back, pushing away the bin. He had nothing left to puke. If he did, Roy knew he would have still been doing it.

Hawkeye took the bin, Roy feeling its plastic come away from his side and listened as she set it on the ground again. Roy covered his face with his forearm, ignoring how it pulled at the wound at his side. It should open. It deserved to open, let him bleed out, feel the pain, the torture, the death slowly creep up onto him–

“So,” Edward said, “everything’s really shitty for you recently, isn’t it, Colonel.”

“Brother!” Alphonse hissed.

Roy took the glass of water Hawkeye offered him. “Well, you’re not wrong.”

“Things have always been shitty for you, boss.” Havoc huffed a chuckle. 

“All of you really have no respect for your superior officer, do you?” Roy griped, only to have Hawkeye place that thick piece of paper in his lap. “Lieutenant?”

He opened it to find a map of Central City. Nothing amiss, other than that it was printed with the Third Laboratory in the centre and with a thick red circle inside with a steady hand and a bright marker. Of course his Lieutenant was good at drawing circles.

“Based on the number of footsteps I counted once we got to the basement under the Third Laboratory, I figured the approximate distance from there to that large doorway.” Hawkeye pointed at her map. “I couldn't be sure about the direction, so I used the lab as a central point, and drew a circle around it.”

Edward said what they were all thinking. “Central Command Center? And what's more, this building is…”

“The Fuhrer’s residence.” Alphonse finished. “Under there is where the Homunculi are.”

“So there's a chance that the Fuhrer is connected to that group?” Roy murmured, hand tracing her line. An alchemist’s circle, with how smooth it was. She’d gone over it twice, the two lines separating at some points. 

“If he's connected, then why did the Fuhrer go after Greed and company?” Alphonse wondered.

“That's strange, even if he wasn't connected.” Edward put a hand to his chin– Roy listened carefully, Alphonse had mentioned greed back in the car to the Third Laboratory, but not anything in detail. Roy had also heard rumours that the Fuhrer himself had gone to help out– “he wiped them out, without trying to get any information out of them.”

“The Fuhrer is inscrutable.” Roy kept his eyes on the little block on the map. “Whatever the case, the enemy has penetrated fairly high into the military. From here on, we should be careful confronting them. Fullmetal, watch yourself.”

“Wha–” Edward screeched.

Roy held up his left hand. “You’re young and powerful and well-liked with the people. You’re what the Homunculi call a human sacrifice. That all combined makes you incredibly dangerous. That will, in turn, attract danger. Equal opposite reaction.”

“Edward, the Colonel speaks from experience.” Hawkeye added. “Except for the human sacrifice part.”

“Think that’s a pretty big one, Lieutenant.” Edward soured.

“Whatever it is you plan on doing, tell me.” Roy ordered and emphasised on those last two words, folding up the map again. “I don’t want either of you to go rushing into anything totally unprepared– at least, consult the address I made you memorise. That’s an order.”

“Alright, alright, jeez.” Edward held his hands up in surrender, rolling his eyes.

“We’ll stay in Central for a bit longer,” Alphonse relayed, “some research things.”

“Knowing you two, you’ll attract danger anyways.” Roy remarked wryly. “So whatever happens, let us know immediately.”

“Attract danger…” Edward mumbled, before spinning on his heel. “We gotta go. C’mon, Al.”

“Goodbye Alphonse, Edward.” Roy waved to them with his left hand.

“Yeah, yeah,” Edward made his way to the door, “sorry for making you cry then throw up in the span of ten minutes, Colonel.”

“Yes, we’re really sorry about that…” Alphonse squeaked, following.

“I didn’t cry!” Roy shouted after them, but they’d already shut the door.

“They’re going to go looking for trouble now, sir.” Hawkeye hummed.

Roy groaned. “I know. I just have to heal enough to get ‘em out of it.”

The door opened. “Yo, boss. Just saw chief and Alphonse leaving.”

“Breda,” Roy greeted, “yes. Is the whole team visiting on rotations?”

“Seems like it,” Breda huffed, “can’t leave you two unguarded.”

Roy watched as the man crossed the room, glancing out the window. The final rays of sunlight glowed in the room, spreading soft oranges and reds across the floor and bed sheets. It was only then that Havoc shared the news. He couldn’t feel his legs.

The next day, Roy demanded Hawkeye to bring him his uniform. 

One, final stop before he left to try and find his brothers. Havoc. 

“What do you plan to do, Havoc? After you retire.” Hawkeye asked.

Havoc shrugged, a bit of ash falling onto his blanket. “I dunno. Any suggestions?” 

“Grow a mustache.” Roy commented. “That’s what I’d do.”

“Oh, shut up!” Havoc groaned. “That would just look stupid. Like Armstrong?”

“No, like a thin, ugly little caterpillar on your face.” Roy chuckled. “It would be funny seeing people’s disgusted faces. Maybe knock me down from a fourteen to a ten on the beauty scale. God knows other men could use it.”

“You mean me, don’t you.” Havoc growled. Roy shrugged, stifling a smirk. “Stay safe, Colonel.”

Roy gave a small salute as he walked over to the door. 

He had a lot of work to do.