Disclaimer: I do not own Full Metal Alchemist or anything associated to it. If you recognise it, it doesn't belong to me.
A flash of lightning illuminated the stooped, drenched figure of Lieutenant Colonel Roy Mustang as he stood on a hilltop looking down into a valley, unable to see more than a few feet, but mapping out in his mind the gently sloping land and the small, wooden, two storey cottage. He visualised the large, creaking sign in the front yard upon which was neatly printed 'Rockbell Automail', a sign he had never actually seen but which had been described to him when the Rockbell's told stories of their home.
As he stood there, he vividly recalled the description the two doctors gave of a small, tidy and welcoming cottage. Inside resided a tiny, strict, old woman who was an expert in her field and had a heart of pure gold, deny it as she might. Then their daughter (her name escaped him now, Winny or something similar) whose personality, skills and virtues almost mirrored her grandmother's. Almost because she was more patient and openly caring than her more worldy counterpart. In her looks however Winny more closely resembled an angel - complete with flowing flaxen hair and bright blue eyes. Roy had always taken these descriptions with more than a pinch of salt and he could not believe for a moment that double chocolate gateau tasted particularly good with salt. No, he imagined the truth to be more of a Victoria Sandwich, plain but sweet and pleasant in its own way.
Just as he remembered their stories, so too he remembered the good doctors themselves as they strived to save what lives they could in the middle of that war torn country. It didn't matter to them which side their patients fought on; they gave help as was required, and not solely of the medical kind. They gave the then Major a needed peace with their tales of home - an escape from his reality as a murderer. Until, in turn, he murdered them.
Roy shuddered at the chill that was setting in on his drenched body. If he was honest he would admit the memories he was dredging up were the greater cause for the shudder. He remembered further how their kindness was not appreciated by Colonel Bran. Roy remembered being lead to their small hospital where he was given a loaded pistol (the cold metal biting; slowly numbing his hands, quickly numbing his body) and callously ordered to shoot the defenceless pair. Roy knew, should he refuse, not only would he die, but Bran would have no compunction slaughtering the Rockbells himself. The only reason he hadn't already was to gain sadistic pleasure from watching the major shoot his own friends and only link to sanity in that wretched hell as they crouched, defenceless, in a corner. He knew this, but did not, could not, accept there being any right in what he did. He was selfish and scared. A soldier afraid to die for what was right. Was that not why he joined the army to begin with, to make a difference, to help? Hypocrite.
He remembered the searing heat of the tears running in torrents down his face and the sickly taste of oil covered cold steel as, violently shaking, he pressed the barrel of the gun against the roof of his own mouth. There was but one thing which saved him: Dr Marco's final words before he deserted, taking with him all records of the military's greatest weapon, a weapon Marco greatly regretted ever making. And so, rather than kill himself, Roy found a reason for living: protecting the location of Dr Marco so that the weapon could never again be put to use. That reasoning lasted until the end of the war whereupon he immersed himself in research ready to commit the greatest taboo in alchemy: human transmutation. He would do whatever it took to bring back the Rockbell's, even give his own life. It had been Maes who had put an end to that, finally knocking some sense into his best friend. After that day Roy gained his current reason for existing: rise to the top of the military and, as it was the military that ran the country, become King of Amnestris. In such a position he would never again have to follow an unjust order and would be able to protect others from the same fate... and be able to pass a law that all women in the military must wear miniskirts of course!
A flash of blue light, too large, low and long lasting to be lightning forcibly drew him out of his musings. That flash had been the by-product of an alchemical reaction - a sight he knew well but had never seen on such a huge scale before. Having carefully studied maps of the area before he came, Roy knew that it was in that direction his official reason for coming to Rizenbul village lived: the wife and children of the mysterious alchemist Hohenheim of the Light.
Roy hurridly made his way towards the area from which the flash had originated. As he trudged through the mud his over-active imagination assaulted him with further memories. The thick mud was died a dark red as the air changed from the refreshing smell of spring rain to the repugnant smell of sweat and blood. This was combined with a burning stench, from wood and flesh, as well as heavy gun smoke; both so strong that they left an abhorrent aftertaste in his mouth. He could see the town lit in flames, hear the distant screams as people were trapped under falling timber and slowly burned to death. He could still feel his horror at the knowledge that it was all caused by him. He heard Colonel Bran's malicious laughter as the guns that sprouted from his body in all directions slaughtered any and all who came within range. He saw Kimberley's manic smirk as he turned another human being into a living bomb and his consequential euphoria as he watched them explode.
His escape from his memories and self-disgust came only when he reached the small cottage at which the reaction had occurred. It was apparent that the alchemists had left in a hurry, as the front door was swinging free. As he examined the ground he could see deep prints that were gradually being washed away by the rain which seemed to have lightened during his musings. As he carefully followed the tracks he observed that the marks, while shaped like shoe prints, were particularly large and must have been caused by something heavy for them to be so deep. They were flat, without the sole's imprint most shoes left, though he supposed that could be the effect of the rain.
The tracks stopped at another cottage, this time one with a shut door and a sign hanging outside stating clearly those dreaded words 'Rockbell Automail'. Quietly he opened the door, thankful that the rural villagers felt no need to use locks, and moved through the house and up stairs to where he heard voices. He stood outside the closed door and listened to the movement inside the room. It sounded as though they were just finishing caring for a heavily wounded person. Then there was a period of silence before a young girl's voice came out "You two came back from your training? So what happened?"
It was an old woman with a raspy voice (probably from smoking) who spoke next demanding, "Don't tell me that you tried to recreate your mother." That sentence would certainly explain a lot: the two Elric children had lost their mother and wanted her back, huh? And they thought human transmutation would get her back? Fools.
Deciding that this was an appropriate time to announce his presence, Roy opened the door saying, "I see. That was the light of a human transmutation. I've never seen such a strong transmutation response before." He closed the door behind him before finally saying in the proper manner, "Excuse me."
He produced the watch that all alchemists working under the military were presented with, prompting the girl, Winry he finally remembered, to query, "A National Alchemist?"
Evidently the old woman, who appeared just as her children described, did not appreciate the military; not that he could blame her, they were responsible for the death of her children, though she could not know it was he who had killed them. Her voice was impatient as she demanded, "And what does a soldier want? As you can see, these two are critically wounded."
Well, he could certainly see the boy with bright blond hair lying on the bed heavily bandaged and barely conscious was severely wounded but he could see nothing about the other, who was at least able to stand without aid, as he was completely covered in almost seven feet of armour. He returned his alchemist's watch and withdrew a letter in its place saying, "I received this letter."
The armoured boy now spoke: "That's the one that brother wrote to all of dad's acquaintances."
"We have also been searching for your father, Hohenheim."
The old woman interrupted tersely, "Their father is still missing. We have an injured person here. Please leave."
"If he still lives, even after attempting a human transmutation, I have more interest in him than his father. He might be able to become an excellent National Alchemist." Roy said as he turned to examine the blonde on the bed. From his new vantage point he could clearly see that the boy was missing his right arm and the way the bedding folded about his legs was wrong though he could tell no more than that. Even so it was a miracle the child survived. Almost everyone who attempted human transmutation, experienced alchemist or no, died in the process, but this boy who could not yet be a teenager not only lived but also came out comparatively well.
This thought process evidently aggravated the old woman as she became even shorter with him, "He has done nothing. Go home. We're busy."
Deciding to finally acquiesce, he turned back and walking out the door addressed the boy stating, "I am the National Alchemist, Lieutenant Colonel Roy Mustang. Visit Central City." and closed the door firmly behind him as he left.
Wasting no time he left Rizenbul on the first train to Central City. Human transmutation was a felony and if the boys' actions were discovered – children or no – they could be executed. Roy was intent on ensuring such a thing would not happen and he was fully aware that the only way to do so would be to make at least one Elric invaluable to the military; he had to become a National Alchemist. But a child would never be permitted to apply for the test under normal circumstances. Somehow Roy had to arrange an incident to 'accidentally' demonstrate the boy's proficiency with alchemy. For that he needed information of two types: everything there was to know about the boy and the more challenging aspect of discovering plots against the military which the Elrics could counteract. The problem came not in finding one such plot; they were formed on a daily basis after all; but finding one which met the necessary criteria.
This plot would have to target someone with high military standing and preferably become a threat to their life. It could not be a quiet assassination but something more daring involving non military related personnel so that the Elrics could easily come across it accidentally. It also had to be too difficult for the people already there, but easy enough that the boys could manage - with some help from certain individuals beneath his command of course.
The factor Roy dreaded most was that for both pieces of information and for help in carrying out the plan, he would have to call Hughes. Lieutenant Colonel Maes Hughes may have been his best friend, life saver and likely the most able member of the Investigations Division there was, but in the time it took them to verify that the lines were not tapped (and sometimes after the fact) the man would talk about nothing other than his three months pregnant wife, Gracia, and the unborn child, occasionally bringing up the matter of Roy's bachelorhood. Firmly avoiding the matter he settled in for a light sleep for the remainder of the journey.
Before he drifted off Roy had one more thought: if he were one to believe in such things, Roy would have been tempted to say the Gods did not want him to die. Every time he attempted to kill himself – directly or no – someone stopped him. First Dr Marco, then Maes Hughes and now, as he uses the first excuse he finds to visit the Rockbell's and let them have their judgement, Edward Elric. To be truthful, he was grateful for this intervention no matter how selfish that made him.
A/N: Please tell me what you think and how it could be improved.
