Chapter Text
The hyacinths felt heavier in Maes’ hands than they had any right to. The flowers had a purpose other than mourning, today, but he couldn’t help but be aware of their connection to Roy.
However, these particular hyacinths weren’t for his best friend, they were for General Armstrong, who Maes unsurprisingly found staring out one of the many windows in her mansion— she, much like Roy, had always had a flair for the dramatics.
Maes supposed they may very well share taste in flowers, too. “Hello there, General.”
The immediate glare she turned on him? That reminded him of Roy, too.
“Are you sure you’re still not interested in coming over for dinner?” Hughes asked as they walked down the stairs of the house together. “I know my wife and daughter would love to meet you.”
Olivier sighed, sounding more exasperated than Maes thought she had any right to, frankly. “I suppose I’ll have to, if only so you cease asking me.”
“I understand with such a large mansion at your disposal you may not wish to visit my humble apartment,” Maes said, with a grin. “Although I can assure you my wife’s cooking is finer than any professional chef’s, I admit things are a bit cramped, especially with a baby on the way.
“Hmph.” Olivier, as usual, was not impressed. “Isn’t your wife due to give birth soon?” At Maes’ nod, she looked even more displeased. “You should be cooking for her.”
“And of course I do,” Maes conceded, “but my wife loves to cook, and as I said, our kitchen is a bit small. I’m more likely to get in her way than be of any real assistance. But I suppose you could fit an entire battalion in your kitchen, let alone the rest of the house.”
Olivier turned her already present scowl on Maes. “If anything were to happen to me, I could let you have the entire mansion. It won’t fit inside a casket, after all.”
Maes blinked, and very nearly stopped walking at ‘casket.’ He could never tell when the General was serious. “You wouldn’t leave it to your brother?”
“Between the two of you, he infuriates me more,” Olivier said, “but it’s a close thing. Perhaps I could leave it to Lieutenant Hawkeye as well, though. At least then I could be assured the place wouldn’t crumble to the ground.”
At that, Maes couldn’t help the laugh that escaped him, even if it made Olivier’s frown deepen. “I’m sure she’d be honored.” They reached the bottom of the steps, then. The only people around were a couple guards burning some leaf litter nearby. Perfect. Maes turned to face her, holding the bouquet up higher. “Though it may be a bit late, I wanted to congratulate you on becoming head of the Armstrong family.”
He watched as she took them, reluctance clear until her gaze landed on the note hidden inside. “Hyacinths,” she observed, face unreadable. Her expression didn’t change as she removed and read the slip of paper tucked between the flowers, either. Impressive.
“Do you know what hyacinths mean in the language of flowers?” He didn’t need to ask, necessarily, but she may need an excuse to dispose of the flowers and the secret message within them. Plus, it would be amusing to see her response.
Olivier’s eyes narrowed. “No.”
“Ladylike charm!”
She tossed the entire bouquet into the fire immediately, looking furious. Still, her response was calm and collected as ever. “I have no use for such things, Lieutenant Colonel. Or your congratulations, for that matter.”
Maes couldn’t help it— he laughed. “Well, I must be going General,” he said, and began to walk away. “Take care, now. And don’t forget, you’re always welcome for dinner.”
Olivier didn’t deign that with a response, but Maes could feel her glaring at him all the way down the block.
He could hear the hyacinths burning up, too; the fire crackling loudly in the quiet night.
Maes felt a bit lighter, now, but he still got the sense that something was missing.
Roy Mustang, contrary to popular opinion, was not stupid. Did he sometimes stick his nose in places he shouldn’t? Sure. Did he have a habit of reckless, impulsive decision making? Of course. Maybe he was a bit of an idiot, sometimes, but not stupid— and yes, they were separate things, Maes Hughes existed as walking proof.
Roy Mustang was no fool, though he had often enjoyed the benefits of acting like one in order to be underestimated. But even a total fool would know that something was off.
That something was coming.
Ever since Envy stopped showing up— and really, Roy had run out of optimism a long time ago, but he couldn’t help but hope they’d died —things felt different. None of the other homunculi seemed even half as interested in tormenting him, though only Wrath, Pride, and Gluttony made appearances. Kimblee, thankfully, hadn’t shown up again. Yet.
Roy got his meals from whichever homunculus deigned to visit him that day, and more often than not he made snide remarks, especially considering it didn’t result in consequences, lately.
Neither did his less than subtle escape-oriented activities, and he almost couldn’t believe it. He knew Bradley, at least, wasn’t stupid either… so frankly, he found it ridiculous how much alchemy he’d gotten away with, even though he’d only risked small transmutations, few and far between at that. But these days, he could take more risks, because it genuinely seemed like the homunculi didn’t give him much thought.
And Roy wasn’t stupid, so he knew what it meant. They were preparing for something.
Whatever that enormous transmutation circle would do? Whatever they intended to use him for? Roy could see it coming for him, dark clouds on the horizon.
Well, no matter. Roy was preparing, too.
With the homunculi entertaining his attempts at banter far less frequently, Roy had to find other means of occupying his time. Exercise, for one.While difficult in a small cell, he made do. Just because he’d lost a limb in this mess didn’t mean he could allow himself to be helpless in the fight he knew was coming. Besides, he found pull-ups easier, actually, now that he’d built some muscle mass back up again— he had much less weight to contend with.
Roy spent a lot of time practicing transmutation circles, too, even if he didn’t use all of them. He knew his flame circle like the back of his hand, but he still drew it over and over to make sure he wouldn’t miss any details if he ever had to use it. Too risky to try for now without proper ignition, as were most of the options he tried to recall from memory, but he did take pride in the ones he had activated.
He’d weakened the walls of his cell. Considerably so. Little by little, and by this point he knew he could tear them apart at a moment’s notice.
And it seemed like that was just what he would have to do. Even with his limited knowledge from his first, ill-advised escape attempt. Roy knew he had no hope of navigating the tunnels that lay beyond his cell door at all, much less finding a way out. Especially because of the aforementioned, less-than-ideal situation of having only one leg. Though he had learned to move pretty quickly on crutches, up against any of the homunculi? Hell, even Kimblee, who once upon a time he could’ve taken in his sleep? He didn’t stand a chance.
In all likelihood, Roy would need one of two things, possibly both— an ally, and a world-class distraction. He knew he couldn’t count on the former, but considering the homunculi seemed distracted already… Roy liked his odds. He would use whatever horrific plan they meant to set in motion as cover for his escape, ideally before they could use him as their means to an end.
He would be ready.
Riza Hawkeye had always considered herself a woman of few words. Not one for impassioned speeches, she preferred blunt statements and straightforward orders. She could hit a bullseye from over a thousand meters away, but she had never considering giving orders to be within her wheelhouse, though she had ordered around her Colonel as much as the other way around.
Giving speeches, though? Specifically ones intended to boost moral? Ridiculous.
Roy had always been better at that, and she felt his absence both more and less starkly than ever, now, on the precipice of what she knew would be the fight of her life. Colonel Hughes had also always been the champion of pep talks, and Riza knew if either of them were there with her they’d have a better understanding of what to say. But they weren’t.
She stood there instead, facing what remained of Team Mustang with a gun in her hand, and she spoke because here were people who wanted to follow her, so she figured she had better give them a damn good reason to.
Still, why give a speech when a few sentences worked just as well?
“Everything goes into motion tomorrow,”she said, solemn. “Prepare yourself to fight with everything you have, to do what you have to do to survive.” She paused, drew in a deep breath. “Lieutenant Breda, Sergeant Fuery—”
She intended to warn them of the danger, to give them one last chance to back out if they so desired, as the Colonel would have done. Predictably, however, Breda interrupted her right away with a smile on his face.
“Knock it off with the Lieutenant stuff. Right now, I’m just an ordinary deserter.”
Fuery sighed, a bit wistfully. “The way ahead is as murky as can be.” But though his fear may have been genuine, Riza could see a very real determination behind it. Neither of them would back down, and she knew it… even if she’d half hoped they would, if only it meant they would be safe.
Riza nodded, once. “Once this is over, we’ll all have a hand in shaping Amestris into a brand new nation. And we’ll do it for Roy.” She offered them both a rare, genuine smile. “I’m glad to have you both with me.”
“Of course,” Breda said, as if it wasn’t even in question. “We’d follow you into hell, sir. Havoc and Hughes, too.”
She’d known this already— they’d shown it time and time again —but to hear the words she’d said to Roy all those years ago made her heart ache in her chest.
Riza could spare no time for sentiment now, though. She had a coup to stage, and several homunculi to kill. “You’re about to.”
Ed had to admit, he was growing sort of tired of reunions.
Okay, not really, of course he’d been over the moon to see Winry, especially considering the last time he saw her she’d been feigning unconsciousness in Scar’s clutches. Speaking with her had been a breath of fresh air, even if he couldn’t stay for long. Even if some part of him just wanted to stay with her in Resembool and forget that the rest of the world was about to fall into chaos.
But Ed missed his brother just as much as he’d missed Winry, if not more, and he hadn’t seen Al in ages. Instead of getting that reunion, however, the universe had presented him with Hohenheim to put up with on top of everything else going on. Ed had the feeling that somewhere, Truth was laughing at him.
After all, On the list of people he wanted back in his life, his estranged father was pretty low on the list. Of course, Kimblee took the cake lately— if Ed ever saw the man again it would be too soon —but even if the world was about to end, Ed simply didn’t have time to reconcile with Hohenheim, even if he was grudgingly happy to see him.
He’d happened upon yet another reason to miss Al, though, which was impressive after so many months. If he were around, at least Ed wouldn’t have to tolerate Hohenheim all on his own. Al had always been better at making nice. He wondered what Al was up to, right now.
God, Ed missed him. He missed everyone, and coming face to face with Hohenheim just made him more acutely aware of this, of all the other people he hadn’t seen in far too long, of all the other people he’d prefer to see. Lieutenant Hawkeye. Colonel Hughes. The rest of Team Mustang. He already missed Winry again. Ling, too, even if the idiot was still technically traveling with him.
And Roy. He missed Roy, too.
“Nothing good comes of wanting something too badly,” he had told Greed, back in Resembool. “I wanted back someone who was dead, and this is what I got.”
Ed hated it, because he knew what the consequences would be, but for a moment he found himself wanting that same thing all over again.
Al had discovered, in his admittedly short life, that when things could go wrong, they would. Usually he had his brother with him, though, and he would have felt much more equipped to handle this situation if he weren’t alone.
The situation in question? His body kept tugging his soul over to the other side of the gate at increasing intervals, which left him weakened and much less capable of adequately defending himself against obstacles that rose up in his path.
Obstacles like two homunculi ambushing him in the dead of night. His soul’s inopportune flickering in and out prevented him from putting up a fight at all.
Honestly, though, the appearance of enemies shouldn’t have even surprised him. Perhaps it wouldn’t have on a good day, but Al was having less and less of those lately.
“You’re going to take it easy until the Promised Day, Alphonse Elric.”
Well, he didn’t like the sound of that at all.
Scar didn’t want to leave the work to the chimera soldiers, but he had needed a moment to speak to Doctor Marcoh alone before they headed to Central together with the other Ishvalans he’d gathered together.
The lie they had told to the Fullmetal Alchemist in Briggs— he did not regret the decision to stick to his word, but it weighed heavily on him all the same.
“We know who killed him,” Marcoh had said, a distraction in the wake of Scar’s own silence. “It was Envy.”
He’d thought the words wise at the time, but now he couldn’t be so sure. Scar had seen a vengeful sort of rage taking shape on the boy’s face, then. An expression he knew well from when he looked in the mirror. And he knew, too, the dangerous path such anger would tempt one down.
“He’s just a kid,” Roy Mustang himself had said, what seemed like a lifetime ago. “I have to protect him. Please, just swear to me that you won’t hurt him.”
Scar had given his word then, too. But what would this boy do when he came face to face with Envy again, as he likely would in the days to come?
Only time would tell if they had chosen for the best, but Scar had never been one to wait out potential catastrophe. What if they came upon Mustang in Central, too? Would it not be best to warn their now allies?
“Perhaps…” he paused, choosing his words carefully as he contemplated the meal in front of him. “Perhaps we should tell the others that Colonel Mustang survived.”
Marcoh turned to him, clearly conflicted. “I sometimes wish we had told them in Briggs,” he said, voice soft. “I sometimes think we ought to have. But unfortunately, we cannot risk telling them now. It would put the entire plan in jeopardy.”
Scar frowned. “Could our withholding of this information not risk the plan as well?”
“If we discover Mustang in Central, by all means we should release him and endeavor to explain ourselves,” Marcoh said, “but we cannot tell them he survived, not now. Not when we don’t ourselves know whether he’s still alive.”
Scar barely managed to suppress a flinch at this. Of course it had crossed his mind that the homunculi might have killed Mustang in retribution for their escape, but this was the first time Marcoh had voiced such thoughts, and so the first time they held any real weight. After all, he had been their prisoner, too, and knew best what consequences may have been in store.
“I don’t believe they killed him,” Marcoh continued. “I know they wanted to use him as a
‘sacrifice’ in their transmutation circle, same as me. But... I can’t be positive that he remained alive just because he was months ago. I haven’t seen Mustang personally in some time, and so I cannot speak to what state he may be in. It seems unlikely that the homunculi would risk moving him, but that is also a possibility. How cruel would it be to share our knowledge now, only for his loved ones to discover he has been killed since? Better for them to never know.”
“I… do believe that is what Mustang would say.”
“Don’t tell them you found me here. Let them continue believing I’m dead.” The words he had held onto in Briggs, even as his conscience warred with him.
Marcoh nodded. “We also can’t risk losing their trust this close to the Promised Day, either,” he said. “For now, our priority must be ensuring that everything goes according to plan. The whole country of Amestris is at stake. If we inform the Fullmetal Alchemist that Roy Mustang remains alive, he will doubtlessly want to attempt a rescue, which would be unwise with so little time to plan for one. Mustang would not want them to risk harm on his behalf, and Edward would be furious to know we kept something like this from them for so long. We should just proceed forward as originally planned. With luck, in the aftermath of the Promised Day, we will have eliminated those that imprisoned the Colonel and be able to release him.”
Marcoh said the words with finality, but Scar didn’t feel as assured as he would have liked to. Was this what Mustang would want? Was this what he wanted? He didn’t know.
But for the time being, he had to agree with Marcoh— even if keep this secret proved not to be the right choice, it was the least risky one.
Wrath considered himself a difficult person to surprise. He had expected a coup from Grumman, and he’d even expected the involvement of Mustang’s former men.
What he had not anticipated was them choosing to work together with Ishvalans. How could they, a group that relied so heavily on their faith, side with soldiers who had fought and killed countless of their own people?
Regardless of the why, it created an uncertainty of numbers that he had to correct as soon as possible by returning to Central, and so that was exactly what he would do.
“I knew we were right to have our eye on that Colonel Hughes,” one of the men on the train beside him spoke up. “He still somehow presents a threat even though we’ve stripped him of Mustang’s old pawns.”
Wrath said nothing, though he very nearly corrected the man. Calling Roy Mustang’s former elite team of soldiers ‘pawns’ greatly understated the threat they presented. Naming solely Colonel Hughes as the mastermind seemed inaccurate; a failure to give Lieutenant Hawkeye credit for this scheme when he had no doubt she’d been instrumental, even while working closely at his side as she had been for the past several months.
Certainly, as a woman many would underestimate her, and Wrath had been guilty of doing so himself in the past when she had so often been standing behind Mustang’s flashier shows of power. But he had seen both her and Colonel Hughes fight in Ishval alongside the Flame Alchemist, and between the two he hadn’t taken out of the equation yet, he knew who presented the bigger threat. To his life, and to his throne.
When the train stopped, Wrath knew immediately that they recognized the threat he presented, too. Of course they would attempt to keep him from Central— he shouldn’t have been surprised, and this time he wasn’t.
Disappointed though, certainly. These were the plans of those who had killed Lust? He’d expected better, and if they wanted to kill him, they’d have to devise more of a challenge.
“King Bradley, dead...”
“We still don’t know that it’s true! What’s going on with the search?”
“They still haven’t reached the site.”
“Get them moving!”
The squabbling voices of the men seated around Olivier rose to a crescendo, whose head began to ache. She’d known about the attack in advance, of course, but even if she had been surprised by the news, being caught off guard was no reason to behave like this.
Like chickens with their heads cut off, the lot of them. Running around aimlessly, squawking just because they didn’t have their precious Bradley to feed them instructions anymore. Was she expected to believe that these men were really the elite of Amestris, the finest soldiers selected by their king to usher in a new age of immortality?
They were nothing more than pawns, and Olivier hated that she sat among them. She knew she had to keep this advantage, though; had to hold out here even if Bradley were truly dead— and Olivier Armstrong had never been one for optimism. She also knew, though, that was the most powerful person at the table, that she could easily defeat them all in combat, and she struggled not to find it insulting.
These men had heard of her strength, but as the only woman at this table she knew many likely did not believe it. In the wake of this panic-inducing news, she had the element of surprise. She could kill them all, right here and now.
Or… better yet…
Her eyes slid to the seat at the head of the table, unoccupied.
No, she couldn’t possibly. She couldn’t show her hand so early. But it tempted her all the same, and all these men appeared so anxious for a leader. Normally, she wouldn’t have had any illusions that they would listen to her, but these men were desperate. And in a sense, so was she; she couldn’t resist at least entertaining the thought for a moment. Even if the following days went according to plan, would she have a better chance in this moment? Would someone else seize the throne first?
If Roy Mustang were here, arrogant upstart that he was, would he have already done it? She tried to picture it, against her better judgement— him simply sitting down with all the confidence in the world, possibly even kicking his feet up on the table, giving an order. Would the men follow him?
It irritated her to know that she would have, had he lived to see his dream of becoming Fuhrer come true. She would have put up one hell of a fight, and then she would have helped him change the country for the better if he won.
This— the empty chair mere feet away from her —felt too easy. But did that make it too good to be true?
Yes, her mind answered its own question immediately as she felt a looming, enormous presence behind her.
“It’s an honor to have you come here,” someone said, and Olivier felt she should agree with the sentiment, but her mouth had gone dry.
She didn’t dare turn her head, but she could see him out of the corner of her eye, a blonde, bearded man dressed in white robes. And right behind him? The homunculus that had attacked Briggs.
“Calm down, everyone,” said the unfamiliar man Olivier still recognized him, though— the Fullmetal Alchemist had said the homunculi called him ‘Father.’ “I am still here in Central.”
Olivier forced her expression to remain stoic, a skill she had grown quite good at. The man’s hand landed on her shoulder, a weight pinning her to the seat. She should never have expected any part of this to be easy.
Well. She had never been one to back down from a challenge. Simple or not, she still had a part to play.
Nobody mattered to Ed as much as his brother. This had always been and would always be true— he had countless people who he cared about and who he aimed to protect on the Promised Day, but Alphonse was different. The responsibility held a personal weight.
Edward would always risk himself if it meant his brother would be okay, no hesitation. He would always go to great lengths to keep Al safe. His little brother. His only brother.
He knew Alphonse could handle himself, but these past few months… Ed worried often. They’d parted ways so long ago and in such a dangerous situation, and he couldn’t help it. He knew the feeling wouldn’t go away entirely until he saw Al again with his own eyes.
When Ed did see Al emerging from the woods, the instantaneous relief almost knocked him to his knees. He didn’t yet know how cruel of a reunion awaited them both.
“Al!” he exclaimed, and wasted no time before rushing forward. “It’s you!” Al usually would have made a move to hug him by now, but he’d moved a bit jerkily when walking over, so perhaps his armor had been damaged slightly? Ed hovered a few steps away, just in case, but he didn’t think much of it. He would fix whatever was wrong with the armor, and they had plenty of time to exchange a hug now, anyway. They were together.
Al didn’t say anything, and so Ed continued. “I’m so glad to see you’re okay,” he said, unable to stop a smile. “You are okay, right? How have things been on your end? It’s been a while since we—”
“Brother, you’re alright, too.” The words were just as stilted as Al’s earlier movements, just a statement of fact with next to no inflection. and it made Ed frown.
“Well, yeah,” Ed agreed, “I am. I can tell you everything that I’ve been doing, but I want to hear your side first. Weren’t you with Major Miles? What happened with all that?”
Al just stood there. “I need to speak with you about that. Come here a minute.”
“I mean… Okay.” Al turned around, and Ed began to follow. Maybe he didn’t want to talk in front of all the others? But still… “Al, is something wrong?”
And Al stopped in his tracks in front of him. “Why do you ask?”
Ed’s frown deepened. Maybe because I know you, and so I know when you’re not acting like yourself? “I don’t know, you’re just acting—“
“ED! GET AWAY FROM HIM!”
The only reason Ed turned around, the only reason he entertained the idea that Al posed any sort of threat to him? Ling was the one yelling the warning. Not one of the chimera soldiers, and not Greed.
Greed, who Ed had been traveling with for some time, now. While the two had a more symbiotic relationship now, Ed knew it still took a great deal of effort for Ling to push past the homunculus in order to speak. So he knew it must be serious.
Ling had held a trembling hand up to cover his mouth, and Ed stared at him, shocked.He’d never seen the guy look so scared before. “That’s… he’s…”
A horrific clanking noise behind him, then, and Ed turned slowly to look behind him. The fear in Ling’s eyes and voice had already transformed Ed’s own unease into terror, but if that hadn’t done the trick then the sight awaiting him when he faced his brother again certainly would have.
Smoke poured out from the cracks of Alphonse’s armor. Before Ed had the chance to say anything, to scream, the shadows shot forward in a dozen spikes. He had to duck to avoid getting hit.
“What is this?!” he demanded, but his voice came out far more unsteady than he would have liked. He’d dropped into a fighting stance, but he hesitated. Because this was Al.
But when Al spoke again, he didn’t sound like himself at all. “So you’ve gone over to their side, Greed?” He turned unnaturally as he said the words, the armor moving as if controlled by a marionette. “And to think you’d let the human take you over again.” A thousand red eyes opened from the depths of Al’s armor. “Your soul is so weak!”
The armor, the closest thing Ed could give his brother to a body, shook unsteadily. As if something was fighting to get out. The smoke, from earlier?
None of this made any goddamn sense.
“Al?” Ed asked, again, and he hated how small his voice sounded, but what else could he say?
“It’s Pride.” Greed, this time, but he sounded just as afraid as Ling had, even though Ed knew neither of them scared easily. “I guess you could say he’s our oldest brother.” His voice and hands still shook.
Ed felt his insides turn to ice. “A homunculus?” He faced the threat once more, albeit reluctantly. He hated seeing Al like this.
“You’re going to betray us no matter what, aren’t you, Greed? At this point, you are nothing more than an obstacle to us.”
Ed didn’t like the sound of that one bit.
Greed scowled. “How the hell did you know I was here?”
A fair question, but hardly the most important one to be asking right now, in Ed’s opinion. “How dare you disguise yourself as Al?!” Ed was glad Greed had filled in the blank, because the only other homunculus he knew who could disguise themself was Envy, and if he’d had a run in with them… he’d already have attacked. Especially if that scum of the Earth had the nerve to look like Al.
Even the thought of Envy still made Ed’s head swim with rage, after Dr. Marcoh had told him the truth of Roy’s death. But Al was in danger, so he shoved the feelings aside.
“It’s not a disguise,” the homunculus answered, infuriatingly smug. “I can assure you that this is your brother’s body.” The suit of armor’s helmet lifted into the air, and the shadows receded to show Ed the blood seal he had painted himself in a desperate attempt to keep his brother alive.
Ed felt all the air leave his lungs in one horrified breath. He let himself be frozen in fear for one more second, and then all of those emotions crystalized into a sharp fury. How dare he? “You… you…”
Ed had lost far too many people already, and he knew in all likelihood that he would lose more. Hell, with the Promised Day right around the corner, he could pretty much count on it.
But even if he lost everything and everyone else, even if Ed had no flesh and bone limbs left and no heartbeat at the end of tomorrow, he refused to lose Alphonse. He wouldn’t allow it. Ed didn’t give a shit about saving the world if his brother wouldn’t make it through.
He had given up an arm for Alphonse, once. Did this homunculus really think he wasn’t prepared to give up a hell of a lot more? Even if he knew the homunculi needed both of them alive, even if he knew Al had to be in there somewhere still, he would not let this stand.
“I’m going to deal with Greed, now,” Pride said, entirely unbothered, as if Ed would allow that, either. “Fullmetal Alchemist, would you care to come with me?”
Ed felt a dangerous smile on his face. Not even the Promised Day yet, and already a homunculus had showed up, asking for a fight.
A part of him wondered why the hell they couldn’t just wait until tomorrow, but mostly? Ed was happy to oblige.
Maes felt unreasonably guilty as he entered Chris Mustang’s bar. He knew he should visit her more, knew Roy would likely have wanted him to, but sometimes he just found it too painful. He often liked to convince himself that Roy’s aunt felt the same way— seeing him must also be a constant reminder to her of what they’d both lost —but he knew she appreciated it whenever he contacted her, even if it was almost always all business.
Her face brightened the moment she saw him. “Lieutenant Colonel Hughes,” she greeted, as he sat down, and Maes smiled kindly.
“I’ve told you before, please call me Maes,” he reminded her as he took a seat at the bar. “How have you been?” He didn’t need the pleasantries as a cover; the bar was empty but for the two of them. He just genuinely wanted to know.
“Well enough,” she replied, with a shrug. “And you? How is your lovely wife?”
“She’s wonderful,” Maes said. “Very pregnant. And Elicia’s doing fine, too— she’s very excited about being a big sister.”
“I’m glad to hear it.” Chris’ smile turned wistful. “All my girls took the role very seriously once Roy fell into my lap. I would take him to work with me often, in those days, and he used to fill up coloring books right here on the bar. Even as a toddler, he charmed everyone he met.”
This was another reason Maes didn’t visit as often as he should— Chris Mustang talked very openly about Roy. She seemed to cope by focusing on the good memories. Maes sometimes did, too, but most of the time… even the good memories hurt.
“He’s mentioned to me that his sisters taught him how to make a flower crown,” Maes told her. “He even taught Elicia how, with hyacinths he bought for my wife.”
Chris nodded. “Those have always been his favorite flower.” A pause. “I’ve seen the ones you’ve brought to his grave. I suppose it’s a bit selfish of me, but it means the world that so many others mourn. He was so loved, my Roy.”
A lump formed in Maes’ throat. “You raised a great man.”
“I wonder, sometimes, if I perhaps should have just raised a good one,” Chris said, with a sigh. “Sometimes… I wish I’d kept him here in this bar his whole life. He would’ve been miserable, but he wouldn’t have gotten himself in half as much trouble.”
“I spent years trying to keep Roy out of trouble, since the day we met, and most of the time it just wound up dragging me into it, too,” Maes told her. “You couldn’t have stopped him from trying to get to the top even if you wanted to. But you let him chase his ambition, you supported him. You raised him well. I don’t think you should ever regret that.”
Tears had sprung to Chris Mustang’s eyes. “I don’t,” she promised. “I don’t regret a thing about the way I raised him— he turned out so brave, though I don’t know how much of that can be credited to me. It’s just difficult not to think about what could have been.”
Maes huffed. “I know the feeling.”
“I hope you don’t have regrets either, young man,” she said, and waved an accusatory finger at him. “You were his best friend. He wouldn’t have wanted you to feel trapped in your grief.”
Trapped? Maes didn’t feel stuck by his grief, it was stuck— living somewhere inside his chest he couldn’t quite reach. He could move forward, but he did so carrying an extra weight. He could, at times, almost forget about its existence, but it snuck up on him whenever he grew too comfortable. It clung to him like a parasite.
And Maes wouldn’t have rid himself of it, even if he could.
Chris sighed, clearly wise to some of his thoughts. “Well, even if you insist on continuing to hinder yourself with guilt, I refuse to enable it,” she said, and slid an envelope across the bar. “Back to business; you were right. Selim Bradley is not, strictly speaking, human.”
Maes laid the photos out in front of him slowly, frowning. “This one’s from twenty years ago,” he said, bewildered. “Fifty years here. He’s standing right beside our top government officials dating back decades.” Admittedly, when he had learned from Lieutenant Hawkeye that Selim Bradley was a homunculus, he assumed it had been the Fuhrer’s doing somehow. Hawkeye hadn’t given him a ton to go on, but Selim Bradley was a child.
Or at least… that’s what he’d thought.
It had left him disconcerted, the idea that he might have to fight someone who looked so young on the Promised Day. Call it a father’s instincts. But these pictures meant Selim had to be far older than even Bradley himself— he aged.
Chris took a drag from her cigarette. “I checked into the town that King Bradley is supposedly from, too,” she said as Maes kept examining the pictures. “While there are records of him being born and raised there, not a single person has ever seen the Bradley family. The mansion at the address listed was empty, and I’m sure you won’t be surprised to learn there are no relatives.”
“Thank you for taking the time to investigate this,” Maes said, looking back up at her again. “I know it can’t have been easy.”
“Not easy, no,” she admitted, “but the moment I discovered Selim wasn’t human, I couldn’t rest until I knew more. I can’t imagine how it hasn’t gotten out before.”
Maes snorted. That was one of the many questions this information raised that he did have the answer to. “Because he’s the Fuhrer’s son. When you’re at the top of a military state, you can create whatever truth you want to.” And when Hawkeye reached the top, she would put an end to all of that.
“Ah, my poor chateau.”
“Forgive me for saying so, but I still think it would be a safer bet to blow up the whole bar instead of just our exit,” Maes told her, and shut the trap door at the top of the ladder.
“I won’t destroy the place where Roy grew up,” Chris said, a bit tersely, “though the military police tailing you may choose to do so once they see you’ve vanished without a trace.”
“Well, in that case, I’ll help you buy another one,” Maes replied. “I think they’ll focus their efforts in coming after me, but I am sorry you’ll have to leave this place behind. You are taking what you care about with you, though?”
She nodded. “I’ll have to go underground for a while, anyhow, until this nasty business is resolved.”
“And the girls who work here? You warned them, as well?”
“Don’t you worry about them, by now they’re enjoying the sun in a foreign land. I plan on following their example.” The idea of Roy’s aunt vacationing during the apocalypse amused Maes enough that he smiled. “Never mind about me, though— you should be thinking about what’s going to happen tomorrow, in this country. Have you gotten your wife and daughter out?”
Maes grimaced. “They leave tomorrow morning, before it all starts,” he said. He’d already exchanged tearful goodbyes, but he knew they’d be okay outside of the border. And Gracia knew why he had to stay. “With the Fuhrer watching all of us so closely… I didn’t want to raise any suspicion. It’s possible they would have been in more danger had they left earlier.” And Gracia had also refused to hear it. “But they should be able to go unnoticed, with everything else going on.” He hoped.
Chris smiled back at him, and Maes saw the shadow of his best friend in that ruthless grin. “If, the next time we meet, you’re in a body bag and branded as a rebel, I’ll wake you up again just to kill you myself.”
“I look forward to it.” Maes watched as she turned, a lump in his throat. “Thank you, Madam Christmas. I owe you a debt for all your help.” Nothing he could say felt like enough. What kind of goodbye suited someone who had already lost the person they cared for most?
Chris Mustang stopped for a moment, back still facing him. “You owe me nothing,” she said, her voice firm. “But if you truly wish to repay me… avenge our boy, Maes. Seeing as I won’t be sticking around to do it myself.”
And just like that, the words leapt easily from Maes’ mouth. “I will. I promise.”
She raised a single hand in a wave, and he turned and started down the other end of the tunnel.
Riza turned to look at Maes as he walked in the door, a small smile on his face. She found herself mirroring it.
Breda stood up, also grinning. “You’re late, Lieutenant Colonel,” he said. “We almost left without you.”
“I’m glad you didn’t,” Maes told him, then turned to look at her. “Even if you had, though, I’m sure Hawkeye would’ve been able to handle it.”
Riza frowned, and opened her mouth to protest, but Fuery spoke up before she could.
“He’s right. After all, you’re the one we’ll be following at the end of all this, sir.”
She shifted, a bit uncomfortably. The more time passed, the more the idea of trying to take the seat at the top for herself appealed to her. Riza Hawkeye could now admit, privately, that she wanted it very badly. But to have others bring it up so casually… it made her feel guilty. Or perhaps worse, that she should feel guilty.
Taking Roy’s plans, making them her own? As much as the others supported her, as much as Maes assured her it was what he would have wanted, it still felt a bit too much like leaving him behind.
And that she would never do, even if her ability to lead suffered for it.
“Hang on to that optimism, Sergeant Fuery,” Riza said, forcing the thoughts from her mind. For the next twenty-four hours, she didn’t have time to grieve. “I’m sure we will all need it.” Even General Armstrong claiming the throne for herself at the end of the Promised Day would be a best case scenario.
Maes’ expression turned serious. “And you’re sure you weren’t followed?”
“Of course, sir. This little guy would’ve alerted me if anything happened.” Black Hayate barked happily, as if in agreement. Maes’ lips twitched, and he bent down to pat the dog’s head.
“We truly have an ace up our sleeve,” he said. “What can you tell me about the Bradley family’s activities?”
“I’ve got the schedule for all three of them for the next three days,” Riza told him. “The Fuhrer went to the training grounds in the east, and Selim went with him.”
“Yes, well.” Maes paused. “As it happens, the train that the Fuhrer was riding in wound up at the bottom of a ravine. Somebody bombed the tracks.”
Riza couldn’t help the small gasp that escaped her, but she recovered her shock quickly. Somebody, as if they didn’t know exactly who would do such a thing.
Breda whistled. “Your grandfather sure takes some drastic measures, Hawkeye, huh?”
She didn’t have time to worry about what was going on in East City, either. “The watch level will be elevated now,” she said. “It might make what we’re doing more difficult.”
“Are our plans changing, then?” Fuery asked, his voice steadier than she felt. “Will the Eastern forces still be coming to Central?”
Maes closed his eyes, just for a moment. “The Fuhrer is missing.” Opened them. “This is either a once in a lifetime chance, or we’re walking right into a trap.”
Breda shrugged, and spoke with no hesitation. “Even if it is a trap, we’ve got no choice but to move forward.” Fuery nodded.
“I agree,” Maes conceded, “but I don’t believe it’s my choice to make.” And to Riza’s surprise, he turned to look at her. “Your orders?”
She blinked, and a fond smile crossed his face.
“The world as we know it could well end tomorrow, one way or another,” Maes said. “I think it’s time we stopped worrying about rank, and put our future leader in charge.” He put a hand on her shoulder. “Whether we walk into a trap or not, I want to be following you.”
I’d follow you into hell if you asked me to. Breda’s words still haunted her. They were words she had said herself, once. Words she felt she might now live up to. On the Promised Day, nothing would be certain, and death could very well claim her, too. It could claim them all. But into fire they would walk.
She knew how it felt to be burned, anyhow.
“My orders?” she echoed, and stood a bit straighter. “Right now, we’re holding a one-way ticket to change the world, at the cost of a fight like nothing we’ve ever seen. Whether we win or lose, there’s no turning back once we choose this path.” And she had long since chosen it. “Even if we succeed, we still have the great task of rebuilding this nation from the ground up in front of us, of finishing what the Colonel started. I’m honored you think of me as a worthy leader in his stead, but at this moment I only have one order for you. Don’t die.”
“Yes, sir!” An immediate chorus, from all three of them.
And then Maes hugged her. Almost a tackle, really.
“He would be so proud of all you’ve done,” Maes told her, barely a whisper. “Don’t you dare die, either. I couldn’t—”
He broke off, and shook his head into the collar of her coat, which had grown suspiciously damp. Riza understood, though.
She couldn’t have done any of this without him, either. And she certainly couldn’t live with herself if she lost him, too.
In the aftermath of the fight against Pride, Ed found himself separated from his brother again. And as he rested a hand against the wall that kept him from giving Al a hug, Ed wanted nothing more than to tear it down.
He hadn’t spoken to Al in months. But they couldn’t risk releasing Pride, and they both knew it. So this would have to do.
Even just trapping Pride like this had been nearly impossible, with everyone involved either injured or exhausted or both. Lan Fan— who he’d been thrilled to see —overused her automail and hurt herself. The chimeras had taken some heavy hits. Ed had hoped he and Al would be able to work together, tomorrow, but if this was the cost to keep a homunculus down, so be it.
Even if he hated it.
He hated that it had been Al’s idea, and he hated that Hohenheim had let it happen.
“If anything happens to him—”
“He’ll be safe in there,” Hohenheim said, expression grim. “I would never be able to forgive myself if he wasn’t.”
Ed seethed. “I would never be able to forgive you, either.”
But he knew it was the smart decision, to take Pride out of the fight. He had faced several homunculi before, but Pride’s power eclipsed them all, especially after he absorbed Gluttony. Which he really didn’t want to spend too much time thinking about.
He supposed he should take comfort in the fact that Al would be safe from whatever the Promised Day wrought, but Ed still didn’t like the idea of not having his brother with him when things broke bad… not that they hadn’t already.
He didn’t like the idea of leaving Al alone with Pride, even if the homunculus couldn’t do anything. He didn’t like the idea of leaving Al trapped. He just... didn’t like the idea of leaving him.
Again.
But he had to keep going.
Before he could, though… Ed found himself rushing to the side of the dome and placing his flesh hand against it. “Al?”
Faintly, from inside— “Brother?”
Ed slammed his metal fist against the wall, now, as he heard Al moving inside. “Here!”
In a few moments, he could hear his brother’s voice, still muffled, but much closer— he must have been standing directly on the other side. “I’m sorry,” Al said, as if he had anything to be sorry for. “Here we were finally reunited, too.”
Edward couldn’t help but slump a bit at that, his mouth pressed into a firm line. Al— the real Al —was so close, and he still couldn’t even touch him to make sure he was really alright. He hadn’t seen his brother in months, and he hadn’t expected to have to get through tomorrow without him.
Trapping Pride was a massive advantage, and Ed knew it, but how could the best case scenario involve fighting without his brother?
“I know you’re beating yourself up over there,” Al said, when it became clear he would receive no answer. “But I was the reason why all of this happened to begin with. Besides, I only have to put up with this for a little while!”
Ed gritted his teeth. Here Al was, comforting him again. “I missed you,” he said. It didn’t feel like enough, but they were the only words he could come up with. “So much.”
“I missed you, too,” Al replied, softer and somewhat surprised. “It’s just one day, though, Brother.”
Just the Promised Day. Just the day that they saved everyone, or died right along with them. “Be careful.”
This startled a laugh out of Al, and Edward squeezed his eyes shut. “Shouldn’t I be saying that to you? I’ll just be cooped up in here while you fight.” A twinge of bitterness, there— Ed hadn’t expected it, but he should’ve. Of course this wasn’t what Al wanted, either. Of course Al would worry about him, too.
“I’ll be fine.” The words came easier than any had so far. Ed had always felt more comfortable being the one in danger. But… the fact that he wouldn’t be beside Al at all on a day where so much could go wrong… “So you have to promise me that you’ll be safe, too.” Otherwise I don’t know if I have the strength to leave. Even if the entire world depends on it.
In many ways, Al was his entire world.
“I promise,” Al told him, and Edward echoed the words under his breath. They would both be okay, because they always were. Because they had to be. “I love you, brother.”
“I love you, too.” Ed’s eyes stung. “I have to go, okay? But we’ll see each other soon.”
As he finally tore himself away, Ed made another promise this time to himself alone. When we get out of this, he vowed in his head, not if, I’ll have gotten your body back. I swear it.
Riza still didn’t particularly want to take Mrs. Bradley hostage— in her time working for the Fuhrer, his wife had never been anything but kind. But she knew it was necessary, and she couldn’t very well change the plan now, even if she had misgivings.
Besides, the Colonel would have done it. Of that, Riza was certain.
It didn’t make her feel much better about the fear on Mrs. Bradley’s face as Riza opened the car door with a gun in her hand, but. She supposed it couldn’t be helped.
“I’m terribly sorry for this at such a late hour, ma’am,” Riza told her, genuinely. “Please forgive the offense.”
Mrs. Bradley shifted backwards. “Lieutenant Hawkeye? Why are you doing this?”
Maes opened the door on the other side, expression grim, but said nothing, He didn’t like this either— Riza had been surprised that he went along with the idea at all, but perhaps he also recognized the necessity of it. The Fuhrer’s wife looked at him in horror.
“If you come quietly with us, I promise that I have no intention of harming you,” Riza continued, and extended a hand to Mrs. Bradley. “Please.”
She looked at Riza, looked at Maes. And she took it.
In the early days of his capture, Roy would have longed for the boredom he now felt.
Ever since Envy had apparently dropped off the face of the Earth, however, and Roy no longer felt like he risked life and limb by simply opening his mouth… he could actually look forward to the homunculi coming to drop off his food. Roy had always been a fan of verbal confrontation, and it was one of very few ways in which he could keep himself entertained, now.
But Roy hadn’t seen Wrath, Pride, or even Gluttony all day— or since he had woken up, as he couldn’t very well tell the time in this dreary room —and he was beginning to wonder if they’d simply decided to stop feeding him. After all that talk of needing him alive, Roy thought it would be a bit insensitive to just to let him starve to death now.
Not that he would— one more transmutation circle and Roy felt sure the wall would come crashing down. But the homunculi didn’t know that.
Or at least… he didn’t think they did.
Roy had half a mind to make his escape now, but what if they had caught on somehow? What if all three homunculi or more stood waiting just outside the door for him to make a move? What if he encountered something else in these sprawling halls? Roy could’ve sworn he still heard movement coming from somewhere, but he had long since learned to not put too much stock in his senses.
But Roy had realized that a storm was brewing on the horizon a while ago now, and the sudden absence of all homunculi around him had to mean something, even if he didn’t know what. His mind reeled with phantom thoughts of the transmutation circle he’d discovered spanning the entirety of Amestris what now felt like forever ago, the only guess he could conjure up.
Regardless of all that remained uncertain, though, Roy knew one thing for sure— the day for his flight had arrived, no matter how dangerous it would be. He would escape.
In the soft light that came with the dawn of the Promised Day, Maes found himself back at the place where everything first went wrong. At Roy's grave. Holding hyacinths again. Blue and purple this time, a slight deviation from the white he’d brought every week for what felt like forever, now. Today, thoughts and prayers didn’t feel like enough.
Blue for loyalty and sincerity. Purple for sorrow and regret. The same exact shades Roy had brought to Elicia’s birthday party, as if he’d had anything to apologize for.
“I should be the one apologizing to you,” Maes muttered, eyes stinging. He’d long since stopped letting his guilt control him, but he knew he would never truly forgive himself for not picking up that phone. “I’m… so sorry, Roy.”
All this time, and Maes still paused, even though Roy couldn’t answer. Probably couldn’t even hear him. And even if he could… Maes knew Roy wouldn’t have wanted to hear this grief, this guilt. Maes knew the words he wanted to say were selfish, and yet he couldn’t stop himself.
He took a deep inhale, and continued. “I’m sorry that I didn’t pick up the phone,” he said, voice hardly more than a whisper. “I’m sorry I couldn’t be there for you when it mattered most.”
Another pause.
“You always liked to joke about how many times I’d saved your life, and I’m sorry I couldn’t help you when you needed me.” He choked on a sob. “But you never seemed to understand— I needed you, Roy. Far more than the other way around. I spent so much time fighting beside you, following you, but I… I can’t anymore. You wouldn’t want me to spend the rest of my life missing you, but how am I supposed to do anything else?” To forget would be an insult to Roy’s memory.
Maes took another shuddering breath. “I’m so sorry that I didn’t help you,” he said. “But you’d be proud, I hope, to know that we’re not going to let those monsters hurt anyone else. We’re going to save this country.
“It’s going to be a tough fight, but I think we’re ready. We… we sure could use you in it, though.” Even back in Ishval, Maes had never liked facing anything without Roy. But by now he’d learned how to. Still… “I just wish you were here.” Then, softer, “I wish it were me instead. I wish I’d never let you—“
His voice broke, and he shook his head. Roy wouldn’t want to hear him blaming himself, if he somehow was listening.
Besides, Maes knew who to blame.
“I’ll find them,” he said, sadness suddenly transformed into fury. “I’ll find whoever did this to you, Roy, and I’ll destroy them. I’ll avenge you before this day is done, I promise.”
“Lieutenant Colonel?”
Maes whirled, though he shouldn’t have been surprised. Riza did say she would join him in a moment. “I’m sorry,” he said, and wiped at his eyes, preparing to give her some privacy. “Did you also want a moment to…?”
But she was already shaking her head. “Anything I could say, he knows already,” she said simply, and Maes nodded. Roy had always known her heart, even if she didn’t wear it on her sleeve. Maes figured she also knew pretty words would be of no use; she had always been the most rational.
A moment of silence passed between the three of them.
“We’ll avenge him,” she corrected him then, softly, and tore her eyes away from the headstone to look at Maes. “You won’t have to do it alone.”
Maes nodded, a lump in his throat. He leaned down to lay the flowers down. Any more words that he could offer would be empty. Except—
“We love you so much, Roy.” There. As Hawkeye had said, Roy doubtlessly knew it, but Maes wanted to make it known anyway. In case he didn’t live long enough to visit this grave ever again.
Maes feared death so much less, now, though he knew he had countless things to live for. He would fight with everything he had, today, but even if he failed… perhaps he would be reunited with Roy. He would hang onto that.
He went back down the hill with Hawkeye, and the two of them left the hyacinths behind to wilt and wither.
Flowers on a false grave.
“I just wish you were here.” A hopeless thought, spoken into empty air, and echoed by everyone who mourned for Roy Mustang. But the Promised Day had dawned, and with it a chance for even the most hopeless things. For even the dead to come back to life.