Archive of Our Own

Nowadays, every time the phone rang, Maes Hughes always imagined the worst.

The case regarding murders of state alchemists in Central was getting to him, whether he wanted to admit it or not. He'd dealt with serial killers before, sure, but now every body he saw had a familiar face. Not only that, but they still had next to no concrete information about their suspect.

Finding the guy as soon as possible was a necessity, and as head of investigations the pressure to put a stop to what was going on fell to Maes.

And it was taking a toll on him.

The phone ringing startled him out of his thoughts, and Maes sighed before answering. He really needed to solve this case.

“Lieutenant Colonel Hughes,” he said, and winced slightly at the clear exhaustion in his own voice. He wondered, with a morbid sort of resignation, which state alchemist had turned up dead now.

“It's Colonel Mustang, sir.”

Maes' world seemed to fall out from under him. Roy was... he was still at the Eastern Headquarters, and all the murders had taken place in Central. He did have a habit of not telling anyone he'd come to visit until after he'd arrived, but... but... he couldn't be...

A horrible image came to his mind's eye. He would go the crime scene and find, instead of someone he barely knew, his best friend in a pool of his own blood with blank, dead eyes. A corpse looking as if it had been destroyed from the inside out.

Maes felt like he couldn't breathe. “Roy?” was all he could manage to choke out. “He's... where is he, is he—?”

“He's on the other line for you, sir.”

Oh, thank god. He didn't know what he would've done if...

He took a deep breath, collecting himself. He was determined to not let his subordinate know just how thoroughly she'd terrified him. “Put him through,” he said, his voice still shaking.

A small click, and then—

“Hughes, do you ask your officers to be as slow as possible when I'm on the phone, or are the people at Central really just that incompetent?”

Maes, despite all the emotions that were still circling his brain, couldn't help but laugh. “What, no hello?”

“If I tried to start with pleasantries you'd go off on a tangent about your wife or daughter again, so you'll excuse me for wanting to get straight to the point,” Roy deadpanned. “But sure. How've things been in Central?”

“Fine. Are you...” Maes squeezed his eyes shut, knowing there was no subtle way to ask. “You're doing okay, right?”

A beat of silence. “What happened?” Roy asked, already sounding much more alert.

“Nothing,” Maes muttered, rubbing his eyes behind his glasses.

“Hughes.”

“Am I really that transparent?”

“You are are to me,” Roy said. “And you just began a conversation with asking if I'm doing okay instead of telling me to either get married, come visit, or to listen to you gush about your family. I am calling for one of those reasons, though. For once.”

Maes brightened. “Are you and Lieutenant Hawkeye finally—”

“No,” Roy interrupted, mortified. “Christ. I'm just coming to Central in a few days, and I figured I'd let you know beforehand so you don't complain that I didn't stop by when I inevitably run into you.”

And with those words, the cold fear returned. Maes glanced at the file still on his desk, full of pictures of bloody crime scenes. “Don't,” he said immediately, without thinking.

Roy was silent for a moment again. “Well, now I know something's wrong. Or you've finally gotten sick of me. Which would honestly be fair, but—”

“Oh, be quiet,” Maes cut him off. “You know I always love your visits, no matter how difficult you are to persuade into one. It's just... I don't think you should. Not now.”

He could practically hear the frown in Roy's voice. “Hughes, what—”

“I'm currently working on a serial murders case,” Maes said. Roy was too perceptive for his own good, he'd probably find out eventually. It was best to get straight to the point. “You shouldn't come to Central right now. It's dangerous.”

For a moment, he thought his best friend might actually take his warning seriously. But of course, no such luck. “Maes Hughes, are you worried about me?”

Maes hated how amused he sounded. “This is serious, Roy,” he said flatly. “A lot of people have turned up dead, and we're no closer to catching whoever did this. All we know about him is that he's got some sort of scar on his face.”

“That's all very well and good, but frankly this is just making me think I should be worried about you,” Roy reasoned, a lilt of amusement still playing at his words even though Maes could tell the sentiment wasn't entirely false. “Are you sure you don't want my help catching the guy? I could light him up for you.”

The hint of bitterness in that last sentence was not lost on Maes. He chose to ignore it.

“That's just it,” he said, still trying to convey the urgency of the situation. “This guy has been targeting state alchemists, Roy, and you're well known. There's no doubt in my mind that if you were in the vicinity he would've already gone after you.”

A pause. “Hughes, I'm quite familiar with people making attempts on my life. If you're going to help me rise in the ranks then you can't get anxious over every murderer or assassin.”

Maes didn't think he'd ever be used to that, but it was a decent point. “I know, I know, just... he's killed more experienced alchemists than you, and he'll kill again. I don't want to take that chance if we can avoid it.”

“If he's killing alchemists, all the more reason why I should help you to—”

“Roy, this is my case,” Maes snapped. “I don't want you getting caught up in it. I... I won't be able to focus if every time I get a phone call I'm worried that you've been found dead in some ditch.” He drew in a shaky breath. “Even just today when my assistant put you through... I've gotten so many calls about the bodies turning up, when she said 'It's Colonel Mustang' I thought she meant... well, you know.”

Roy was silent again. Longer this time. His voice was soft when he finally spoke. “Maes, I'm fine,” he assured. “I can handle myself. Even if I was in Central, I'd be careful. I'm not going to actively go looking for someone who wants to kill me.”

“Give me one good reason to believe that isn't exactly what you'd do.”

Roy snorted.

“I know you can take care of yourself, and I know it's stupid of me to worry. And you know I'd love for you to visit, but... can you please wait just a week or two? To see if we make any headway?”

“If it means that much to you, of course I'll stay here,” Roy said. “I have no business in dying. Lieutenant Hawkeye wouldn't allow it if she knew, either. Just... I can't believe I'm about to say this, but East City gets boring without you around.”

Maes smiled fondly. “Aw, Roy, I miss you too.”

“I take it back.” Roy seemed about to hang up, but then paused. “I'll talk to you soon, Hughes.” With a satisfying click, the line went dead.

The smile remained on Maes' face until he looked back at the too thick file on his desk.

Roy supposed he should hate rain. It rendered him absolutely useless in the ways of alchemy— even if he was dry enough to manage to light a spark his attacks wouldn't be as effective.

It was a very annoying weakness, if rather obvious. He really should hate the rain, then, this weather that could almost guarantee him a loss in any battle. But... he loved it.

It never rained in Ishval. Not once, not while they were there. Every day was hot, and dry, and the stench of the bodies he'd burned hung in the air for so, so long. Rain prevented him from using his alchemy, but maybe that wasn't such a bad thing.

Rain cleansed. When he walked in the rain and just let it wash over him, soaking deep into his uniform, it seemed to clean the sins from his soul, the blood from his hands. 

The Lieutenant had caught him walking in the rain more than once, and she'd lectured him about catching a cold after each offense. The last time he did this he'd been sneezing for a week. But he didn't care. He'd always liked gloomy weather, even before he ever learned alchemy, before he slaughtered countless innocents. Whatever the significance, that would never change. 

And sometimes he just needed to remind himself that he was allowed to do something as simple as 'walk in the rain.' Even if he was headed for hell, he wasn't entirely consumed by the flames yet. He was still human.

He needed this sort of reminder once in a while, and after what had happened with Shou Tucker... he doubted even Riza would blame him for needing to clear his head.

Roy's thoughts were interrupted by someone else entering the plaza in which he'd been pacing. He hadn't expected to run into anyone with weather like this, but then again he hadn't chosen a very secluded place.

The person, whoever it was, seemed to be approaching him. Perhaps he should've been unsettled— and in fact later he'd be berated for not running away right there and then —but Roy didn't really think much of it, and it didn't occur to him to consider someone or something a threat in the middle of the day, however dark the clouds of the storm made the sky.

Roy observed the figure as he got closer. Dark skin, light hair, and a frown that seemed to take over his entire face. His eyes were obscured by tinted glasses, completely unnecessary due to the weather and not the best fashion statement, as far as Roy was concerned. His thick jacket seemed to be the only protection he had from the rain, just as Roy's own, except the strangers' was a bright yellow. He had trouble believing someone else would voluntarily venture out without an umbrella on a day like this, and yet here they were.

The figure had only one other trait of interest; a large scar that covered most of his forehead and crossed right over his eyes. It triggered something in Roy's memory, something that made him a touch uneasy, though he couldn't put his finger on why.

When the man stopped a few feet from Roy and just stood there, staring at him, Roy figured he should break the silence.

“Lovely weather we're having, isn't it?” he asked, with a sarcastic sort of smirk. “I didn't expect to see anyone else out and about.”

The man just continued to stare at him, his frown deepening. Roy's own smile wavered.

“Is... is there something I can help you with?”

He stared at Roy in silence for a moment longer. “Colonel Roy Mustang?” he finally asked, his voice deep.

“Yes?” Roy confirmed hesitantly. “Do... I'm sorry, do I know you?”

“You don't know me,” the man replied, and something about his tone set Roy on edge. He took a half step back. “You are the Flame Alchemist? 'Hero of Ishval,' they call you.”

Roy tried not to flinch at that. “Yes, that's me. Please excuse me if I'm being rude, but who are you?”

“Who I am is unimportant,” the man replied. “You may call me whatever you like. But it is my duty to cleanse the world of freaks of nature like you.”

Roy's feeling of unease shifted to rage almost immediately, and he took a step towards him. “Excuse me?”

“Alchemy is a crime against nature,” the man said. “Punishable by death.”

For a moment, Roy was surprised. He hadn't realized that his alchemy was what the man meant by 'freak of nature.'

And then finally, finally Roy remembered why that scar was dangerous. “It's you,” he said, voice barely a whisper. “You... you're the one who's been killing state alchemists in Central! What are you doing here?!”

The man didn't answer, but it dawned on Roy anyway.

“You killed Shou Tucker.” It wasn't a question. Roy knew it. The creep had certainly deserved it, and he supposed it could be seen as mercy for the poor girl, but... “Who else are you targeting?”

The man surveyed Roy with something like disgust. It made his skin crawl. “Fortunately, I did not have to search too long to find you. But I've heard rumors of another State Alchemist around these parts, one who doesn't even need to use transmutation circles. I cannot allow that power, nor yours, to exist.”

Roy saw red. If this guy was targeting the Elrics...

He didn't hesitate any longer. He simply lifted a gloved hand, poised to snap. “I'm afraid that is something I cannot allow.”

For the first time, Scar smiled. “It is fortunate I found you like this,” he said, and his confident voice made Roy's blood boil. “Is it just a rumor that your hellfire doesn't work in the rain?”

Roy sucked in a sharp gasp. Shit. He'd forgotten... how had he forgotten?

“Goodbye, Flame Alchemist.” Scar's hand twitched, and crackled with electricity.

Roy Mustang was nothing if not brave. He'd faced death head on countless times, and he'd do it again in a heartbeat. Under normal circumstances he would never run away from a fight.

These were hardly normal circumstances.

“Goodbye is just the word I was thinking of,” Roy replied, then whirled on his heel.

Maes wasted no time in heading to the East City headquarters. He would've called to notify Roy that he'd be coming if he hadn't had to get on the first train after hearing the news of Shou Tucker's death.

Hearing the condition the body was left in had pretty much convinced him, but he'd still needed to go see the crime scene as it was in order to be sure.

He'd just left Tucker's residence with no doubt left in his mind; whoever was responsible for the serial murders of state alchemists in Central had moved on to East City. Scar.

It was imperative that he warn the alchemists here as soon as possible, and of course he intended to start with Roy.

Maes raked a hand through his hair, fully aware how disheveled he looked and uncaring of the weird glances thrown at him by the people he passed in the hall. He knew it was a tad ridiculous for him to be so concerned, but this was a dangerous case, and it was getting dangerously close to the people he cared about.

It figured, didn't it? To keep his best friend safe he told him to stay out of the vicinity of Central since a murderer was on the loose there who'd have it out for him. And then of course, said murderer decided that he'd go to East City. Where Roy was easily the highest profile State Alchemist.

Maes felt anxiety coil in his gut again. Roy was smart. He could take care of himself.

But all the other alchemists could do that, too. There was truly no telling what they were up against and that...

That scared Maes.

He threw open the door to Roy's office, already prepared to launch into an apology for barging in and an explanation as to why no, this really can't wait— but it was empty.

Maes repressed a groan. Of course. Why would he get a stroke of good luck now? Was finding Roy in the place he was supposed to be really too much to ask?

Knowing his best friend, yes. Yes it was.

He turned around in exasperation only to spot a familiar red coat down the hall. “Edward?”

The Fullmetal Alchemist turned, and his golden eyes brightened with recognition as he offered Maes a small wave. Alphonse, standing beside him, echoed the motion.

“Lieutenant Colonel Hughes,” Edward began, walking towards him with a small smile. “I thought you were still in Central. It's good to see you.”

“You too, Ed, but I wish I was here on better circumstances,” Maes said. “Do either of you have any idea where Roy is? I just checked his office, but he's not there.”

That got Edward to frown. “I have no idea. We were actually looking for him just now, too. I swear, it's like the second I actually want to talk to him, the guy's nowhere to be found.”

Maes laughed. “Tell me about it. Well... if either of you see him around, tell him that I'm here, okay? It's important. If he's passed out in a supply closet again, I swear I'll—”

“Did something happen?” Edward interrupted. “What happened? I'm sick of people not telling me what's going on.”

“We could give the Colonel the message,” Alphonse offered, giving his brother a look that just radiated exasperation.

Maes hesitated. “I don't know... I'd really rather tell Roy directly... but as long as I've got the two of you here I suppose I'd better warn you. I'll be honest, I was hoping you wouldn't be in East City right now.”

“Why? If it's Shou Tucker, we already know what happened,” Ed told him, sourly. “We wanted to ask the Colonel if there were any leads on the guy who killed Nina. It's just... it's not fair.”

“It does have to do with that, yes,” Maes said. “There's... been a series of murders of state alchemists in Central, and we have reason to believe the same person is responsible for Tucker's death.”

“A murderer targeting alchemists?” Alphonse echoed, his voice raising in pitch. “Here?”

“I'm afraid so. The two of you had best lay low for a bit. I don't want to see either of you getting hurt, or worse.”

Ed scoffed. “Oh, please, we can deal with a little—”

“Edward, this guy killed five state alchemists in Central, all older and with more experience than both you and Roy. Tucker makes six. The autopsy reports point to whoever's doing this being able to cause internal bleeding and other injuries with just a touch. There are never any external wounds on the bodies,” Maes said. “I'm telling you this because it's serious. This murderer is very, very dangerous. Now, are you sure you don't know where Roy is?”

Edward had visibly paled. “No,” he said softly. “I... I don't, but... but he's fine! I'm sure of it, I just saw him an hour or so ago. You don't have to worry about the Colonel, he's too stubborn to die.”

And Maes... he wasn't worried, or at least he knew he shouldn't be. He knew Roy could take care of himself. 'Too stubborn to die' was a perfect way to describe his best friend.

And he knew the Elric brothers knew Roy well, but... not as well as him.

They'd never seen Roy get shot right in front of them, his life only saved by the sheer luck of keeping his state alchemist's watch in his chest pocket. And afterwards, Roy had looked dead to the world anyway.

They'd never found Roy passed out from exhaustion in his office, a bottle of liquor left on the desk and a revolver with one bullet in the chamber right beside it.

They'd never gone to Roy's apartment to find buckets full of his blood and piles of notes on human transmutation.

Roy was past all of that now, Maes knew. He had his heart set on being the leader of this country, and he wouldn't die if he could help it.

But... Maes had known Roy for ten years, and he'd be lying if he said his best friend's actions didn't scare him out of his mind. That he didn't worry he'd go to visit Roy and find a tombstone instead.

And not even just Roy being a danger to himself. The Flame Alchemist had a talent for making enemies, and he never knew when to back down from a fight. Maes wasn't inclined to leave Roy alone for several weeks. Or better yet, he'd force Roy to come to Central. Where it was safe.

“The Lieutenant probably knows where he is,” Al said brightly. Maes' head snapped up, and sure enough, Riza Hawkeye was walking into Roy's office.

She stopped when she saw them, however, and an almost entirely concealed smile crossed over her face. “Lieutenant Colonel Hughes,” she said as she walked over, with a formal nod. “I didn't know you were in East City. The Colonel will be thrilled.”

The glint in her eye made Maes very sure that 'thrilled' meant something more like 'irritated.'

“He informed me that he intended to visit you in Central— he gave some other excuse, I'm sure, but that's what it boils down to —and he was very out of sorts after you told him he shouldn't neglect his responsibilities. Don't tell him I told you this, but I really do think he misses you,” Hawkeye continued. “Thank you for convincing him not to, by the way. He didn't see a single problem with going, even with everything that's going on.” She cast a pointed look at the Elric brothers, and then looked back at him.

Ah, so Roy had told her about the murders. He didn't know why he should be surprised. Still, Hawkeye clearly didn't know that Scar had relocated recently.

“Yes, well,” Maes said awkwardly, even though Ed looked like he wanted to speak. “Where is Roy, anyway? I need to speak with him, and I'm afraid it's urgent.”

Hawkeye sighed at that. “I'm sorry, but he's stepped out. You'll have to wait until he gets back.”

“Stepped out?” Maes echoed, with a small laugh. “Come on, Hawkeye, it's me. If he's catching up on sleep somewhere that's fine, but I do really need to talk to him.”

“No, I mean... he's not at Headquarters, at the moment.”

Maes' heart stalled. “What?”

“It's not a problem, really,” Hawkeye continued anxiously. “I've tried to tell him not to but... well, you know how he gets sometimes, when he starts thinking about Ishval too much. And it really is harmless, to my knowledge, although he does catch a cold depending on how—”

“Lieutenant,” Maes cut her off, not following. “What are you talking about? Where is he?”

“He takes... walks, sometimes, sir. When he needs to clear his head. Just as a little break,” Hawkeye informed him. “Really, it's not unhealthy. A bit irresponsible of him to just abandon his duties, but it's only for a few minutes, and otherwise...”

She trailed off. Sighed. Met his eyes again.

“It's Shou Tucker, sir. I think it really messed with the Colonel's head, what he did,” she said, clearly trying to school her expression into something impartial. “And I think he blames himself for getting the Elric brothers involved. Which wasn't really helped by Edward yelling at him.”

Maes didn't miss Ed's flinch out of the corner of his eye.

“So... so he's just taking a walk? In the middle of the day, when he's supposed to be working, when I need to pass along some very important information— Roy Mustang decided to take a leisurely stroll.” Maes shook his head. “Why am I even surprised?”

Hawkeye's carefully blank look turned into an exhausted sort of smile. “He won't be gone much longer, sir. In fact, he's already been out longer than usual. If you just wait here, he'll be with you shortly.”

Maes nodded, and was all set to sit down in Roy's office, take some pictures of Elicia out of his wallet and arrange them in a collage on Roy's desk. But then Edward spoke up.

“It's raining,”  he said suddenly, as if the thought had just occurred to him. His voice threw Maes off however— why did he sound terrified?

“Yes, since this morning,” Hawkeye nodded. “I think it helps remind him he's not still in Ishval.”

Maes could understand that. So why did Ed look as if he'd seen a ghost?

The young alchemist buried his head in his hands. “No, no, you idiots. If it's raining then Mustang can't use his alchemy!”

Maes sucked in a breath.

Hawkeye fixed a sharp gaze on him, all amusement gone from her expression. “Is there a reason he'd need to be able to use his alchemy?”

Oh god. Oh god. “B-but all the other attacks happened at night, or in the evening at least” Maes stuttered out. “There's no reason he should strike during the day... but still... damn it Roy—”

A horrible feeling was coiling in gut. It was an impossible coincidence to believe that Scar would run into Roy, and yet... with Roy unable to defend himself, did Maes really want to take that gamble?

“Hughes.” Hawkeye's stern voice shocked him out of his worry. “What's going on?”

“The man that's been killing state alchemists,” Maes began, feeling as if he were very far away. “He's here. He's in East City.”

“But... but you said yourself, the attacks have all happened at night, right?” Alphonse asked, his voice bright and hopeful to break the horrified silence that encircled the other three. “So there's no reason to believe the the Colonel is in any sort of danger.”

“The clouds provide enough gloom to act as cover,” Edward said, sounding numb. “It was like this when he got Tucker in his house. There won't be many witnesses on the street. If he's looking for Roy specifically then he has to know that rain renders him useless, right? Why wouldn't he go looking for Roy now? What does he have to lose?”

Before Maes could speak again, a faint tremor shook the ground. As if something had exploded, not too far from where they were.

He met Riza's eyes, and she looked more scared than he'd ever seen her.

“We have to find him. Now.”

Roy Mustang was no coward.

But getting into a one on one fight with an opponent who could use some unknown and highly dangerous form of alchemy, according to Hughes, while Roy himself could not use alchemy at all? Not exactly something he wanted to attempt.

And so he chose the best option available to him— running as fast as he could in the opposite direction.

His feet skidded on the slippery pavement, but he couldn't afford to stop. He had to get... where, exactly?

He couldn't very well lead a murderer into the Eastern Headquarters. Would Scar dare follow him inside? But no, Roy didn't want to risk leading him to a base with other potential victims. Namely, the Elric brothers.

Away, his brain supplied helpfully over the sound of blood rushing in his ears. Just get away.

Roy knew these streets like the back of his hand, like the array he wore on the back of his hand— every small detail committed to memory. Maybe he could lose him.

As he tore down the road he took stock of the situation. He'd only brought the one pair of gloves, and even though he'd kept them in his coat earlier they were drenched almost as soon as he'd put them on in the downpour. The useless fabric felt uncomfortable now, clinging to his skin.

He did have a gun, which was a small comfort. Fully loaded, too. He wasn't so much of an idiot that he'd neglected to bring one of those. He figured his best bet was to look for an opening, whirl around to Scar who he could still clearly hear giving chase, and then shoot him. He just had to count on the element of surprise, and getting the timing right.

Roy had no means of contacting anyone at Headquarters though, and therefore no backup. Why hadn't he considered the fact that Shou Tucker had just been killed? He knew there was someone going around and killing alchemists, so why didn't he connect the dots? Why had he just left by himself? Stupid, stupid, stupid.

His attempts to put some distance between him and Scar didn't seem to be working, though. The guy was still hot on his trail.

When Roy rounded the corner and started down the staircase leading down to a main street from the plaza, the steps seemed to disappear. He first thought that he'd tripped in his haste, only to look down to find that the stone stairs had quite literally crumbled under his feet. The rubble crashed into the ground below, sending up a column of dust.

Roy landed unceremoniously on the ground among the debris, winded, his head knocking painfully against the pavement. Scar leaped down after him with an arm poised to strike.

Well... fine. If they must fight now, then so be it. Flames weren't the only card Roy had hidden up his sleeve, just his ace. And he got the feeling Scar had just played his own. He hadn't lost the game yet.

Though... he'd much rather they play chess.

He rolled out of the way and used the momentum to push himself to his feet. The movement made him dizzy, but he didn't have time to slow down. Once standing, he ducked under another blow and aimed his own punch at Scar's face.

Roy hit him in the jaw, not quite where he'd been aiming but a decent hit nonetheless, and Scar stumbled backward. He moved back himself, wanting to keep at a distance.

Roy was no fool. He couldn't use his alchemy, and apparently Scar could destroy staircases with just a touch of his fingers and no array. The unmarked yet bloodied bodies of his other victims were starting to make sense.

And though Roy had had years of combat training that included a lot of hand to hand, Scar was much bigger than him. And to top it all off, Roy's vision had begun to tilt, meaning that he'd hit his head harder than he'd thought.

Most alchemists were considered geniuses, but it didn't take a genius to do the math here.

Scar lunged forward again, and Roy tried to duck down, but his body wouldn't cooperate with him, and he stumbled. It didn't matter anyway— Scar faked him out and went for his legs. Before Roy could stop him, he'd seized Roy's ankle with his right hand.

A flash of blue light, and Roy heard more than felt his own leg snap.

The feeling came after he'd realized what had happened, and he gritted his teeth against a scream.

He crumbled to the ground, abruptly unable to support his own weight. The pain made his vision swim more, and when Roy looked down at the bloody, bent mess of his left leg he felt as if he would black out right then. But he couldn't— if he lost consciousness, then he was as good as dead.

Scar loomed over him, right arm held out, the set of his mouth grim.

Honestly? Roy might be as good as dead already.

He pulled the gun out of his coat in one fluid motion, not caring if it probably wouldn't do much against his current opponent. He had no other options; it wasn't as if he could keep running.

“Stand back,” Roy said, hating how wrecked his voice sounded. “Or I'll shoot.”

To his surprise, Scar did stop. He didn't seem threatened, though, just tilted his head curiously. “You could've shot me and been done with it already. Or at least tried to. Why haven't you?”

“Well, I've been hoping we could capture you alive. I'd like to know why you're killing innocent state alchemists. But as long as we're here, I suppose you could just tell me now.”

Scar's face hardened. “State alchemists are far from innocent. They are a plague on this Earth, and I will wipe them out.”

Roy clicked the safety off. Scar didn't even flinch. “Big words from someone who's been using alchemic destruction to kill them.”

“It's not the same. What I'm doing is justice.”

“What you're doing is murder,” Roy snapped. “And the only reason that I haven't already pulled this trigger is because I don't kill lightly. Unlike you.”

Scar stopped. When he spoke again, his voice sent chills down Roy's spine.

“Oh? You mean to tell me that you aren't a murderer yourself? Hero of Ishval?”

Roy blanched. “That's... that's different,” he whispered. “I... I didn't want to—”

“But you still killed them,” Scar interrupted. “Innocent civilians who had done nothing to deserve that fate. You burned them alive by the hundreds. Are you really going to sit there and tell me that I'm a murderer, when you're just the same? At least I am executing the guilty.”

Roy couldn't speak.

“Are you going to look me in the eyes and tell me that State Alchemists don't deserve this for what you've done?” And Scar took his glasses off.

Brown skin. White hair. Red eyes.

“You're an Ishvalan,” Roy said softly. The gun shook in his trembling hand. And suddenly, it all made sense.

“I am seeking justice for what Amestrians did to my people by making sure that they can never do so again,” Scar told him. “I will kill every human weapon, every dog of the military, or I will die trying.”

And in that moment, Roy realized that he wouldn't shoot him. He couldn't.

Because Scar was right.

He moved the safety back, and Scar's eyes widened.

“Before you kill me,” Roy began, his voice quiet. “I have a last request, of a sort.”

Scar said nothing, but he listened. And that was all Roy could ask for.

“I... I'm haunted every day by what I was forced to do in Ishval. No, what I chose to do. I could've left, I could've tried to stop them... but I was too scared. I was scared of what would happen to me. And so I let it happen,” Roy said. “I helped it happen.”

Scar was still staring at him, surprised.

“I can't go back and change it,” Roy continued. “And if given the chance, I'm not even sure of what I would do. But I can tell you that I'm so, so sorry for what happened to the Ishvalans. You're right. They were innocent, and we still killed them. Hell, I even know a few people who enjoyed doing it. So your revenge... it's justified.” He took a deep breath.

“And I'll make you a deal.”

He knew he shouldn't. He knew this would mean that he could never succeed in his dream, and that he'd be letting down countless others by dying here. And yet... he knew he couldn't kill another Ishvalan. Never again.

He knew this meant that he'd never be able to atone for what he'd done by fixing the country once he got to the top. But maybe... maybe he could atone another way.

“I'll let you kill me,” Roy said. “I killed hundreds of your people, and I'll let you have your revenge. If you promise me one thing.”

“I don't have to make any promises to you,” Scar said, but he sounded more confused than angry, now.

“I know you don't.” Roy's entire body shook. “But... please. Your other target, the Fullmetal Alchemist, he's— he may be very powerful, but he's just a kid. He's fifteen years old. He didn't fight in Ishval. He's never killed one of your people, he's never killed anyone. The only reason he's a state alchemist at all is because I made him one.”

Scar's brow furrowed. “Why are you telling me this?”

“Don't go after him. Please, please, he's so young. And he's stubborn about his beliefs to a fault. He doesn't let himself get ordered around, and I know he'd never make the same mistakes I did. So please, don't kill him,” Roy said, fully aware that he was begging now. He didn't care. “End this string of murders with me. I was one of the biggest offenders during the Ishvalan War, and you can have me. Just don't go after him.”

Scar continued to stare at him. Something almost...soft passed over his expression so quickly that he almost missed it. “Why do you care so much what happens to this boy?”

“He's just a kid,” Roy said again. “He's... he's my kid. I'm his superior officer. I have to protect him. Please, just swear to me that you won't hurt him.”

A pause. Roy squeezed his eyes shut, expecting to be killed on the spot.

“You have my word.”

Roy opened his eyes and blinked up at Scar in shock.

“There were people in my life that I would've given anything to protect,” Scar said. “You clearly value this child's life more than your own. I'll grant you this. No harm will come to the Fullmetal Alchemist by my hands.”

And despite the situation, despite the fact that he'd just signed his own death warrant, Roy smiled. “Thank you.”

Scar surveyed him for a moment, and nodded. “You seem like a good man, and you seem genuinely repentant for what you've done. I'm sorry that I must do this, but I've made it my mission to bring all alchemists, all those responsible for the destruction of my people, to justice. You understand there's no way I can let the Hero of Ishval go free.”

“I will be free though,” Roy said softly, almost just to himself. “More free than I have been in a long time.”

The soft smile on his face faltered, then fell away completely. But he wasn't sad, not really. He wished he could've said something to Hughes, to the Elrics, to Riza, but maybe... maybe it was better this way.

Maybe they would be better, this way.

Edward and Alphonse could overcome anything, as long as they were still together. They'd be safe from Scar. And he knew they wouldn't be too broken up over his death to begin with— he'd never been one of their favorite people.

Hughes would get over it, too. He had Gracia and Elicia. Sure, he'd probably be upset for a bit, but he'd push through. Roy had always needed Hughes more than Hughes needed him anyway. It'd probably make Hughes push himself into the investigation even harder, though. And knowing Hughes, he'd probably also help the Lieutenant through it.

God, Riza. He'd be leaving her alone more than anyone. But he knew she wouldn't give up. She'd fulfill his dream of becoming Fuhrer in his place, and she'd make this country better with his team behind her. 

Hell, she'd probably do it better than he ever could. Maybe she could take comfort in knowing that the last Flame Alchemist was gone from the world.

And Roy... was tired. He was so, so tired. Maybe taking this out was selfish of him, but he'd been prepared to die for a very long time. He'd been prepared to die trying to bring even a fraction of those he'd killed back. This was justice for what he'd done, justice he could accept with open arms if he knew it meant the people he cared about would be safe.

He dropped the gun. He bowed his head and let the feeling of the rain on his skin be the only feeling at all until he felt the faint press of Scar's hand on the top of his head.

“ROY!” A shout followed by a gunshot tore the silence into pieces. Scar's hand recoiled. “GET AWAY FROM HIM!” Another gunshot.

Roy knew that voice anywhere, and his eyes snapped open in shock. 

Hughes?

Scar had taken several steps backward, holding his right arm with his left, blood seeping from between his fingers. Another gunshot rang out, and Roy turned towards the sound.

His Lieutenant, a gun in each hand, was staring Scar down. To the untrained eye she appeared as calm and collected as ever, but Roy knew an absolutely livid Riza Hawkeye when he saw her.

In the blink of an eye she moved between him and Scar, firing off her guns in quick succession and forcing him back several yards to avoid getting hit.

“Get the Colonel out of here!” she shouted, though she kept her attention focused wholly on the Ishvalan. “And I'll need some help here!”

Roy wasn't too sure about that. She was certainly handling things better than he had. As usual, of course.

“The chief and I are on it!”

Roy turned again at the familiar voice, and saw them. His heart swelled.

His entire team had come to his aid. And not just them, but the Elric brothers and Hughes, too. Everyone he cared about most in the world.

Their appearance hit him like a truck, and suddenly he regretted even thinking of abandoning them. As weary as he grew with living sometimes, there were too many people counting on him. For their sake, he couldn't die. How had he even considered it?

And yet some part of Roy that he was too scared to acknowledge wished that they'd been just a few seconds slower.

Lieutenant Havoc was already running to Hawkeye's aid, shotgun held tight in his hands. Edward followed after him, his expression one of barely contained anger, along with Alphonse.

Good. Facing Scar alone was as good as suicide, but together they'd surely be able to take him down. Surely.

And Lieutenant Colonel Hughes was... making a beeline for Roy's side. He looked equal parts scared, concerned, and furious.

Roy wondered if it was too late to be murdered by Scar, since he'd infinitely prefer that to being murdered by his best friend.

“Can't you make this car go any faster?” Edward demanded from the back seat. “Aren't these military cars supposed to be used in emergencies? You have to be able to go faster than this.”

Maes' fingers tightened around the steering wheel. “Believe me, I'm going as fast as I can.”

“Well, it's not fast enough!” Ed snapped. “The Colonel's been gone for... who even knows how long! He could already be—”

“Give it a rest, will you, chief? He already knows that,” Havoc said gently, placing a hand on Ed's shoulder where he sat next to him in the back. “Hughes knows how dangerous this case is better than anyone. He worries about the Colonel more than anyone, too.”

“I'm not worried,” Ed scoffed. “About that bastard? Are you kidding? I just think this is a hassle that could've been avoided if someone had actually informed us what was going on before—”

“Edward,” Hawkeye cut him off, unimpressed.

“No, he's right,” Maes said. “I... I should've called Roy and warned him the second I suspected Scar might be in East City, but I didn't want to raise false alarm. And now he's in danger. My actions have put us all in danger. And like Edward said, it could already be too late.” He simply couldn't bear the thought. His nightmare of Roy's corpse turned reality.

“Lieutenant Colonel Hughes, you know Colonel Mustang as well as I do, if not better," Hawkeye began, fixing him with a stern look. “Do you really think news of a serial murderer on the loose would have stopped him? He had already heard about Tucker, sir, and he made the executive decision that he could leave his post without any kind of guard.”

“Hawkeye's right,” Ed agreed. “I'm sorry I snapped at you, Hughes. I guess I really am just... worried. The Colonel may be a bastard, but he's the only bastard we've got.”

Despite the situation, Maes found himself stifling a laugh, and beside him even Hawkeye appeared to be smiling.

“Aw, we all knew you really did care about the boss, kid,” Havoc teased. “No need to be ashamed. He's a stubborn asshole sometimes, but we're pretty much stuck with him. We all—”

“We're here," Hawkeye cut him off, and all four of them instantly steeled themselves as the wrecked staircase that had caused the huge column of smoke came into view. “Stay on high alert. If this was caused by Scar, the Colonel won't be far from here.”

Maes scanned the rubble anxiously. The second he'd felt the explosion of force that resulted in this, he'd been imagining the worst. What if they couldn't even find Roy in all this mess? What if he wasn't there? What if he was already—?

He froze as his gaze snagged on a familiar black coat over a blue uniform.

Roy Mustang was sitting on the ground, his body positioned awkwardly as if he'd fallen down. He had propped himself up with one arm and the other.... the other was pointing a gun right at Scar's head. The murderer appeared to be standing still.

A swell of pride erupted in Maes' chest even as he took in the worrying state of his best friend. He could see even from a distance that Roy's hand was shaking. And.... god, was that blood running down his forehead?!

He chanced a look at the others. Hawkeye had clearly already seen him, and Ed pointed it out verbally the second he realized himself.

“There! He's— oh no.”

Edward's voice dropped off into a horrified whisper, and Maes turned back just in time to see his best friend let his weapon fall onto the pavement.

The gun clattered to the ground, and Maes felt his heart drop with it.

He watched in slow motion as Scar reached out a hand to rest on top of Roy's head. It looked almost as if he'd done so in comfort, if they didn't all know what was going to happen next.

Another state alchemist dead. Another picture in the file.

Over my dead body, thought Maes.

He slammed on the breaks of the car, not caring about trying to be sneaky in their approach. The others apparently had the same idea, as he saw the car carrying Breda, Falman, Fuery, and Alphonse screech to a halt as well. 

Hawkeye was already outside the vehicle, pulling a gun out of her holster.

Maes climbed out himself, Ed and Havoc not far behind. “ROY!” he shouted, desperate. A bullet tore through the air and lodged into Scar's right arm, forcing the murderer to recoil. He took a few steps backward, but it wasn't enough. Roy didn't move at all, and Maes' vision flashed red. “GET AWAY FROM HIM!”

Lieutenant Hawkeye had drawn another gun, and was aiming both at Scar. She didn't waste any more time before firing again. This one missed, but Scar did back further away from Roy in order to dodge.

Roy moved to look at them for the first time and Maes could pick out the exact moment he saw Hawkeye. He couldn't entirely make out the expression on his best friend's face, but Roy seemed confused, as if he couldn't believe that they'd actually bothered to come save him.

Maes knew what Roy looked like when he was scared, even though the Colonel always tried to hide it. But he didn't look scared.

And that was what scared Maes. Had Roy really been about to just let himself be killed?

Hawkeye raced in between Roy and Scar, shooting as she went. He didn't seem to have any weapons on him other than whatever alchemy he was using, and so he kept backing up to avoid getting shot again.

“Get the Colonel out of here!” she ordered, without looking away from him. “And I'll need some help here!”

“The chief and I are on it!” Havoc replied, and Roy turned to look at the rest of them at the sound, finally tearing his gaze from Riza.

Havoc went after Hawkeye with his shotgun, Edward and Alphonse not far behind, all of them looking decently pissed off.

Maes didn't really notice that he was running towards Roy until he finally met his gaze.

The last time Maes had seen that cold, dead look in his best friend's eyes... it had been right after Ishval.

He knelt down beside Roy the second he reached his side, and placed a hand on his shoulder. Roy stared up at him, but he still didn't look entirely present.

“Roy, Roy, what happened? Are you okay? Why did you—?!” Maes wanted to ask why he'd surrendered, but he stopped himself. First, he had to make sure Roy wasn't going to die on him. “How bad are your injuries?”

Roy blinked. “...Hughes? What're you doing here?”

“What am I doing here? Saving your sorry self, that's what! What're you doing here, getting yourself killed?!” Maes burst out. “There's— god, you're bleeding a lot.”

Roy brought a shaky hand up to the side of his head, and stared at the bloody fingers that came away. “Oh,” he mumbled. “I guess I did hit my head pretty hard.”

“Probably a concussion,” Maes said, concerned. “How do you feel?”

Roy was at least feeling enough like himself to glare up at him. “As it turns out, not great.”

Maes waited. Roy sighed.

“Quite honestly? The ground's tilting. But it could be worse, I suppose. I haven't passed out. Yet.”

Maes nodded. Concussions were definitely a nuisance, but it would just make Roy unable to do much work for a while. It shouldn't be that dangerous as long as they got him to the hospital quickly, though not knowing how bad it was definitely worried him, as did the blood still running down Roy's face from somewhere within his mess of hair.

“Feel well enough to walk?” he asked. “We need to get you out of here and away from Scar.”

Roy grimaced at that. “I... why'd you bring the Elrics here? Scar's targeting them, too. Or he was, at least.”

“They'll be fine as long as they're not alone,” Maes said, frowning. “You know, like you were? Wandering around by yourself in the rain of all things— what were you thinking?”

“I was thinking that nobody told me a murderer targeting me was on the loose where I live,” Roy said, looking unimpressed. “Though that's not entirely your fault. I should've guessed after what happened to Tucker. But really, Hughes, you could've—”

“I would've warned you if you were in your office,” Hughes grumbled, then stood. “Anyway, come on. We've got to get you to a doctor.” And maybe once I know you're safe I can ask you why the hell you'd drop your gun.

Roy looked pained once again. “You sure are oblivious, Hughes,” he said. “For someone who acts so worried you did a surprisingly terrible job at actually checking yourself to see what's wrong.”

“What do you—”

And that's when Maes finally saw Roy's leg.

Covered in blood, twisted at a wrong angle, and— was that bone?

He was speechless. He wanted to be sick at the sight. Roy's leg looked as if it'd been broken from the inside out. No fall could've done that.

“So no, I really don't think it'd be advisable for me to try and walk.”

“Roy...” Maes trailed off. He allowed himself to be horrified for one more moment, and then it was business. He sat down beside Roy again. “How did this happen?”

“His right arm. He has some sort of alchemical power that lets him destroy objects, and apparenly people, by just making contact,” Roy said. “Guess I'm lucky it wasn't my head.”

Maes tried to contain his alarm. “He... he was going to do that to your head, when we got here. He was about to. If we hadn't gotten here in time—!” And then he stopped. Remembered. “You were going to let him.”

Roy didn't say anything, just averted his eyes.

“You were going to let him kill you,” Maes breathed. “Why?!”

“Maes, I'm surprised at you,” Roy said, and the usual sardonic humor didn't sound as genuine with his voice shaking like that. “Usually you're much more observant. Aren't you supposed to be head of investigations? Take a closer look at your suspect.”

Maes was reluctant to tear his eyes away from Roy, but he turned his attention to the fight for the first time since arriving. He knew he should've been more concerned about Scar, but... he couldn't help it. Roy came first.

Roy always came first.

It appeared that Edward, Hawkeye, and Havoc were holding their own, able to keep Scar away from them with distanced attacks. And thought Maes had no idea where he'd come from, Major Armstrong had apparently shown up and was dishing out quite the beating. And more reinforcements were on the way.

And then Maes' eyes snagged on Scar. On the bright red eyes, visible even from far away.

“He's an Ishavalan.” Maes didn't realize that he'd said the statement out loud until he glanced back at Roy and found him nodding.

“He's not just some murderer,” Roy said, voice still strained due to his pain. “He's getting revenge for his people.”

And as much sense as that made, Maes still had a hard time sympathizing with the man who'd just nearly killed Roy.

“So... what, then? You were just going to let him kill you? Because he had a reason for it?”

Roy wouldn't look at him. “We killed so many of them. And the only reason we had is because someone told us to.”

“Roy, I know how guilty you feel, but really. How will your death help anyone?” Maes demanded. “You won't be able to make this country better if you're six feet underground!”

Roy huffed. “I know that. But... maybe this country's better off without me anyway. Maybe the world is... maybe all of you are.”

Maes couldn't believe his ears. “Roy, what—?”

“I'm so tired, Maes,” he continued. “I know there's a lot more I could do. I guess I just wanted to be selfish. That's why I made the deal, so I could still do something.”

Roy Mustang, selfish? Maybe to someone who didn't know him well, but to Maes the two words didn't even belong in the same sentence.

And what was this about a deal?

His best friend making deals with his attempted murderer.

While not wholly surprising, Maes definitely didn't like the sound of that.

Before he could ask, however, another tremor shook the ground. He looked back to see a plume of smoke that, once dissipated, revealed a hole that opened up into the sewers and Scar nowhere to be seen.

He cursed. “This conversation isn't over,” Maes warned. “But we need to get you somewhere safe. You can't walk, so is it alright if I just carry you? Nothing we haven't done before, though since Ishval it's mostly been because you get drunk off your ass way too often.”

His attempt at humor and weak smile got no response from Roy. He just sighed and met Maes' eyes.

“You might have to,” Roy said softly. “Because I'm fairly sure I'm about to pass out.”

“Wh— hang on, Roy—”

But, true to his word as always, Roy's eyes slipped shut and he fell forward into Maes' arms, which he hadn't even realized he'd raised to catch him.

When Roy opened his eyes the first time, it was to Riza.

The expression on her face was calm, but her eyes held more fear than he'd ever seen before. In fact, seeing her like this made him wonder if he'd ever seen her scared at all.

He didn't like it.

His voice wouldn't cooperate, so he reached a shaking— why was he shaking? —hand up to her face and tried to brush away the tears he saw there.

She shook her head slightly. “Just rest, now,” she said. In the distance, he could hear  shouting. Nothing he saw made sense, though, except her. He could see white walls, people dressed in blue, masks covering their faces as they ran beside him. Something was happening, he had to—

She gently pressed his shoulders down where she was holding them, and shook her head again. “Everything will be okay,” she told him, looking like she didn't believe it. “Try... try to relax. You're going to be fine.”

Roy's head felt foggy. He couldn't remember what was going on, but...

He let his eyes slip shut. He trusted his Lieutenant.

When he opened his eyes again, he was in an unfamiliar room that he could, somewhere in the back of his mind, register without too much difficulty as a hospital.

Roy didn't look around too much, though, mostly because his vision kept going in and out of focus and his gaze quickly snagged on a head of blonde hair with its nose stuck in a book.

“Lieu...Lieutenant?”

The person's head snapped up, and two wide golden eyes blinked at him.

If that hadn't been enough, the red coat and derisive snort tipped him off to the fact that this wasn't Riza before he even spoke.

“Not quite,” Ed said, with a smirk. He set his book down. “Sorry to disappoint. Actually, you know what? I'm really not.”

Roy should've been annoyed by his snark, but he only felt relief. “You're.... you're okay, then, Full... Fullmetal?”

Ed's smile fell, and his brow furrowed in confusion. “Yeah, I'm fine,” he said. “I can handle myself, unlike some other people.”

Roy didn't respond to the jab, and instead allowed himself a small smile. “I... I'm glad.”

Edward's jaw twitched, and Roy recognized the irritation in his expression almost immediately. “What the— what're you worrying about me for?! You're the one who almost got yourself killed! You freaked everybody out! Lieutenant Colonel Hughes was—”

He cut himself off with a curse, and stood from his chair. “Shit— Hughes! He told me to get him as soon as you were awake.” Edward started toward the door.

“I wouldn't... wouldn't worry about th-that,” Roy told him. “I think I'll... get some more rest.”

He could hear Edward shouting something at him, but his eyes had already fallen shut again.

When Roy opened his eyes the third time, it was different. Most noticeably in that he was actually fully aware of his surroundings. And that he could sit up.

He looked around the small hospital room, a setting he was unfortunately pretty familiar with, and quickly noticed the one thing out of the ordinary.

Hughes.

The sight of his best friend sitting in a chair in his hospital room wasn't an uncommon one, but the livid expression on Hughes' face certainly was.

Typically Hughes would greet Roy with a weary yet still genuine smile, lecture him about being more careful with a very thinly veiled level of concern, and then be on his merry way.

But today he just glared.

Roy tried for a smile of his own, feeling bizarrely like their roles had reversed.

“Well,” he said, when it became clear that Hughes wasn't going to be the first to talk. “That was a close one.”

Hughes' mouth twitched, and Roy wasn't sure whether that was a good or bad sign.

He sighed, and looked down to take stock of himself. His leg had a sort of dull ache, and he could feel the cast around. He reached up to his head, and sure enough there was a bandage there. Hughes had said he probably had a concussion, Roy remembered, and if the near constant throb behind his eyes was any indication, he'd been correct.

“Before you give me the old talk about getting myself into trouble, I didn't exactly go looking for Scar,” Roy informed him. “He sort of found me.”

Hughes' expression was still unreadable when he said, “You went for a walk in the rain.”

“Well, I happen to like the rain.”

Hughes' expression twitched again. “You can't defend yourself in the rain.”

“Pardon me if I don't plan on getting into a brawl with someone who wants to kill me every time I go out,” Roy huffed, then paused. “Well. Honestly, at this point, I probably should.”

The corners of Hughes' mouth moved briefly up. Roy considered it an accomplishment. “We can agree on that.”

Roy moved the blanket so that the cast on his leg was visible. “I don't think you'll have to worry about that for a while, now. I can't walk on this in the rain— it can't get wet.”

“Roy, I don't think you'll be walking much at all.”

Roy grinned. There was a faint smile on Hughes' face now, which brought them back into familiar territory. “Regardless, what're the odds the Lieutenant would say yes if I asked her to sign my cast?”

Hughes snorted, then almost immediately muffled his laughter with his hand. “Damn you, Roy,” he muttered. “Do you have any idea how hard you make it to stay mad at you?”

“I've been told I'm very charming,” Roy said, with a smirk.

Hughes groaned. “I'm trying to be pissed at you. I am pissed at you, or... I should be,” he said, then paused for a moment and met Roy's eye. “You're my best friend, and you know exactly how to make me laugh, but that doesn't mean that this situation is funny. It was way too close.”

“I'm terribly sorry that I almost got murdered by a serial killer,” Roy deadpanned. “Next time, I'll try to avoid such encounters. I swear, Hughes, you would have people think I enjoy getting my bones broken.”

“It could've been avoided, though! How do you not understand how reckless it was of you to leave your post without any sort of guard? You knew it was raining, and you knew Shou Tucker had just been killed. You should've at least taken Hawkeye!”

“If I admit that that was stupid of me, will you get off my case?” Roy asked, with a sigh.

“No! That's not even the problem! Recklessly putting yourself in danger and refusing to believe you need any protection is exactly the sort of behavior I've come to expect from you!”

Roy blinked. “Then what's the problem?”

Hughes scowled. “The problem is what I said; this time it was way too close. You could've very easily died today. You... you almost did. For a minute there, we didn't think you were going to make it.”

Roy said nothing.

“And you had a gun pointed at him. He's very fast, of course, so there's no guarantee that you would've been able to land a shot, but you didn't even try. You just dropped the gun. We all saw you do it. You were just going to surrender your life.” A pause. “And I want to know why.”

Roy looked away. “It's complicated—”

“Is it?” Hughes demanded. “Is it, Roy? Because the way I see it, you were just going to let him kill you because he's Ishvalan, and because you've never let yourself stop feeling guilty for what we were forced to do.”

“We weren't forced,” Roy said quietly. “We could've left. I could've left.”

“And been punished for desertion? Locked up forever or killed? What good would that have done? What good would your death do now?”

“Look, it was stupid of me, alright? I don't know what I was thinking. I just... I looked him in the eyes, and I couldn't kill him, okay? Not when his revenge is justified. Not when I'd do the exact same thing in his place,” Roy said. “I know me dying wouldn't do this country or any of you any good. And I'm sorry I considered it, truly. I don't really want to die. Just... in that moment, when I knew it was either going to be me or him... I wanted it to be him. That's all.”

Hughes scrutinized his expression for a moment, and shook his head. “I don't believe you,” he said, and continued before Roy could protest. “Maybe that's true, but you're not telling me everything. When... before you passed out, you were talking like you did want to die. Saying you were tired, that the world would be better off without you... I haven't heard you say things like that in a long time.”

“Well, that doesn't mean I haven't been thinking it,” Roy snapped. “I don't tell you everything.”

He immediately regretted the words at the hurt look on Hughes' face.

“Look, I... I get like that sometimes. With Tucker I was already thinking about it more than usual. That man was a monster, and I'm no different. He's only killed two people, and his intentions weren't even to kill. He really believed he was doing it for the greater good. I've killed countless more just because I was told to do it. How come Tucker gets punished and I go free?”

A dark look crossed over his friend's face. “Roy, you know it's not the same—”

“And then this guy comes along and tries to kill me, saying that alchemy is unnatural, and it goes against God, and that the world would be better off without it,” Roy continued, his voice raising in volume. “And he's right. Especially about my alchemy. Christ, the Lieutenant's father didn't want to teach it to me because he didn't want me to use it to hurt people. I only wanted to join the military to help, and I didn't listen when he said not to become a state alchemist but... but he was right.”

“Roy...”

“So sometimes, yes, I do think I'd be better off dead. A lot less other people would be dead. I want to be able to make this country better, to atone for what I've done, and I suppose the best way to do it is to stay alive, and dedicate my life to work,” Roy said. “But back then I was thinking that I could improve this country and atone for what I've done by simply letting Scar take his revenge out on me. No more Flame Alchemy, and no more murders.” His mouth twisted into a bitter smile. “Equivalent exchange.”

A heavy silence fell between them, and Hughes was the one to break it.

“Hang on,” he said. “That reminds me. You were saying something about a deal, too. A deal you made with Scar. Did you... what did you do?”

Roy waved a dismissive hand. “Not an alchemic deal. Even I'm not stupid enough to think those are a good idea. Just an agreement of words that most likely means nothing now, since I didn't hold up my end of the bargain.”

Hughes didn't look reassured whatsoever. “What was your end of the bargain?”

“Dying.”

Hughes' eyed widened. “You—?”

“The deal was the reason I dropped the gun,” Roy told him, keeping his eyes locked on the floor. “I knew I probably wouldn't win the fight in the end... and so I asked him if he'd grant me a last request.” He drew in another breath. “I asked him not to go after Fullmetal. And he said he wouldn't. So I dropped the gun.”

He didn't want to see the look on Hughes' face.

“Edward is one of his targets...?”

Roy nodded, still refusing to look up. “Fullmetal is powerful. Word about an alchemist that doesn't need transmutation circles gets around fast. But... I told Scar that he was just a kid, that he wasn't involved in the Ishvalan War at all. And I told him that he could kill me without so much as a protest if he just promised that he wouldn't hurt Edward. He... that kid has the ability to do more good than I ever can, and he can't die before he finds what he's looking for.”

The silence he got in response suffocated Roy, forcing him to look up at his best friend.

Tears were welling up in Hughes' eyes.

“Oh, fuck, Hughes, don't— you know I'm not good with—”

“You thought that was selfish of you?!” Hughes asked, his voice almost a shout. “You thought sacrificing yourself to save a kid was you being selfish? Jesus, Roy, do you really hate yourself that much?”

This conversation had taken a turn Roy wasn't sure he followed. Maybe it was the head injury. “I don't—?”

“God, and here I've been, berating you for being a noble, reckless idiot, like you always are! You never put yourself first, never, and now I'm helping to convince you that you're a terrible person just because you hate yourself so much that you somehow twist everything that ever happens around to believe that it's your fault! And when I think that it is your fault for surrendering, it turns out that you were trying to save a child's life in what could've easily been the last moments of yours!”

“Maes, I'm sorry, but—”

“Don't apologize! What the hell, Roy?!”

What the hell, indeed? Roy had absolutely no idea what had just happened. 

Hughes, before Roy could protest, sat down beside him on the bed. He placed a hand on each of Roy's shoulders.

“Listen to me,” Hughes began. “And listen good, because I've been here waiting for you to fully wake up for a very long time and I'm not going to repeat myself, concussion or no.”

“I didn't ask you to—”

“I know, Roy,” Hughes interrupted him, with a small, fond smile. “I didn't stay here because you asked me to, I stayed because I wanted to. Despite what you'd like to believe, a lot of people actually care about your wellbeing, myself included. You know better than anyone how much I love Gracia, don't you? And Elicia?"

Roy rolled his eyes. “If you try to show me more pictures, I'll call for a doctor and tell them you're making my headache worse. It won't even be a lie.”

“So if you know how much I love them, then what do you think it says about you that I decided to stay here and wait instead of catching my train back home?”

Roy... didn't have a comeback for that one, actually.

“You're my best friend,” Hughes continued, looking down. “And I know we don't talk as much with me in Central most of the time, but that's no excuse for me not being there for you.”

“Maes, really—”

“No, listen to me, it's not,” Hughes insisted. “If you actually believe half of the shit you said just now, then I haven't been doing my job right.”

Roy, realizing that more protests would get him absolutely nowhere, crossed his arms and let Hughes talk.

“You are not a monster, you are not better off dead, and you are not selfish. If I ever hear you say any of that again I'll punch you, because all you care about is helping others. That's all you've ever cared about, Roy— keeping as many people as you can safe,” Hughes said. “And I know you've somehow gotten it into your head that you're a burden, that you hurt people, and I just can't understand it. You save people, Roy. Having you in my life has never felt like a burden.”

Roy could feel a sting at the back of his eyes, and he refused to acknowledge it.

“...Yes, your alchemy has been the cause of some pretty horrible things. Yes, you did a lot of damage in Ishval. But Roy, and I don't know how many times I have to tell you this, it wasn't your fault. We were under orders, and you didn't single-handedly kill everyone there. I was there too. I  killed more people than I could've counted, and I didn't bother to keep count. But not once have you ever suggested that I'm a monster. Why do you think you deserve be punished for what we all allowed to happen?”

Roy opened his mouth. Closed it again at a stern look from Hughes.

“And have you ever stopped to think about how many lives your alchemy has been able to save? How many lives you've been able to save?” he asked. “Roy, there's no question that without you, I'd probably be dead. Several times over in fact. Hawkeye too, as well as countless others. Hell, even the Elrics! You say that everyone would be better off without you, but I don't even know if I'd still be here at all. I know you think that you're a curse on everyone, but newsflash, Roy— the only person that wishes you were dead is yourself. The only person who thinks that you're deserving of death is yourself.”

Roy considered this. “And Scar,” he added.

Hughes groaned, and nudged him with his elbow. “I meant people that actually know you. Anyone who knows Roy Mustang like I do knows that he's really just a big softie who wants to do as much as he can to make the world a better place, and protect as many people as he can doing it.”

Roy met his gaze, a small smile on his own face. “I'm not sure anyone knows me like you do, Maes. How is that throughout all these years, you've always known exactly what to say?”

“And you'd have everyone believe that you're the charming one,” Hughes said with a scoff. “Well, if nobody else knows it, I guess it's just my job to tell the world what you're really like. Ruin that terrible reputation you've built for yourself.”

“No one will believe you,” Roy pointed out, his smile turning into a smirk.

“That's fine with me, as long as you believe it,” Hughes said softly. “Roy, you're not a bad person. You're reckless, and a show-off, and despite being a certified genius you can be unbelievably stupid. Also you're kind of an ass to pretty much everyone.”

Roy couldn't help the amused laugh that escaped his mouth. “This pep talk certainly has taken a turn. At least I know you're being honest. “

“But,” Hughes pressed on, fixing him with another poor excuse for a glare. “You're a good person. You're my family, Roy, as much as Gracia and Elicia are. You're my brother. I love you. Which is why I can't stand to see you beat yourself up, or put yourself in danger like this. I don't know what I'd do if something happened to you— Havoc, Riza, Edward and Alphonse —we'd all be lost if you were gone.”

Roy wasn't crying. He wasn't.

“And I've been your best friend long enough to know that me telling you how much we all care about you isn't going to immediately erase all the things you hate about yourself, or stop you from hiding it when you're hurting. But I want you to keep it in mind anyway. Whenever you're feeling alone, just give me a call, and I'll be there for you. Because you're not alone, Roy. You have so many people who depend on you, and you can depend on them too, you know? You don't have to fight every battle by yourself, even the ones inside your head.”

Hughes finally sat back, and turned his eyes away as Roy wiped the tears from his eyes.

“...Thank you,” Roy said finally, his voice quiet. “Really. I think I needed that.”

Hughes nodded. “Any time. And I mean that.”

Roy drew in a deep breath. “You're my family too. And... I hope you know that I also lo—”

“You love me?” Hughes asked, feigning a swoon.

Roy scowled, and decided to lie through his teeth. “No, I was going to say that I hope you know you can call me at any time too, if you need help, but never mind. I take that back. You'd probably just talk about your stupidly adorable daughter all the time.”

He expected his best friend to be a little bit deterred by that, but Hughes just beamed. “You called Elicia adorable!”

“I didn't— oh, shut up, Hughes. I may not have my gloves, but if you don't leave my hospital room soon I am going to start throwing pillows at you.”

“Of course, of course, your nurse told me that you should get some more rest anyway,” Hughes said, waving his threat off. “But just. One last thing.”

Roy groaned. “What is it now?”

Hughes turned to look him in the eye again. “Don't... don't die. I know situations like that can't always be avoided, and I know you were being your dumb noble self, but still. You're not dying. That's an order.”

Roy blinked. Then—

“Oh, so you're giving me orders now? You can't make a habit of that if you're going to help me get to the top.”

“If you're going to get to the top then you'll have to follow the order,” Hughes pointed out.

“Ha. Touché,” Roy said, returning his grin. “I won't die. I promise, there's far too much work to be done for me to call it quits now. And you'd never let me hear the end of it.”

“You're right about that.” Hughes stood, and picked up his coat from the back of the chair he'd been sitting in. “I should really head back if I'm going to catch a train tonight... will you be okay?”

“I have my Lieutenant here, don't I? Go home, Hughes. And... sincerely, thank you for everything you said. I'll try to remember it.”

“I hope you will, but in case you ever forget,” Hughes said, lifting a hand in a wave as he went out the door. “You know where you can always reach me.”

Roy stared at the closed door for a moment before pushing his blanket to the side. He wondered if he could manage to sneak down to the cafeteria with his crutches. Hughes had told him to get some rest, and the Lieutenant would have his head, but...

He wasn't tired anymore.