The sun's first light cracked over the horizon. Roy Mustang mused on all of the sunrises he's seen in his life, most of them not due to pleasant circumstances.
The first time he vividly remembered seeing the sunrise was during basic training after joining the military. He remembered, as he stumbled out of bed, thinking that waking anyone up that early should be illegal. He remembered stumbling through the morning training sessions, half asleep, bleary-eyed, and wondering if it was all worth it. He remembered the sunlight glinting off Maes' glasses as the dawn broke during one of their early morning runs.
The sunrise in Ishval was harsh. Unforgiving. Roy didn't sleep much during his time in Ishval. The sand niggled its way into all creases and crevices and made everything uncomfortable. More uncomfortable, however, was the dead look in his comrades' eyes – hollow, tormented, haunted eyes. Lying on the bed, unable to sleep, he tossed and turned, never able to find solace in the stillness of the night. Occasionally, when he and Maes shared a bed, pure exhaustion would pull him under into a fitful sleep, and he still would wake before the sun turned the desert into an expanse of unbearable heat. In hours, the Flame Alchemist would add to that heat.
Returning from war to accolades – to being called the Hero of Ishval – did not help Roy sleep. His dreams were plagued with the same images, over and over… flames destroying buildings, ash swirling in the hot desert wind, screaming and crying providing the gruesome soundtrack to the nightmare that never seemed to end. The dreams that Roy was trying to follow during the day were hindered by the nightmares that overwhelmed him every night. Maes and Riza were the only two who could pull him out of his own head. They would refocus him on his goals, on becoming Fuhrer, on the light at the end of the tunnel. Another Ishval would never happen again.
When Maes died, Roy thought he would never sleep again. It had been years since he and Maes were lovers, but that didn't stop Roy from missing his best friend. He watched many sunrises in the weeks after Maes' death. He was just so… tired. Tired of living through all of this death and destruction. Tired of having to carry on after another tragedy. Tired of never being able to stop, lest his dreams turn to dust. And yet, he was still unable to sleep. He carried on, though. He carried on for his biggest supporter, his comrade, his best friend. He carried on for Maes.
Not even a full year later, after the events of the Promised Day, Roy was still having nightmares. Sometimes his dreams were of Alphonse being returned to a body that was so weak, so malnourished that he wasn't able to survive; sometimes they were of Ed, who lost more than just his alchemy during his exchange for Al's body, leaving him more mangled than he was before; sometimes, his dreams were of Riza, dark crimson flowing from her slit neck and staining her light coat, her eyes open and empty as she died before his eyes. Other times, his nightmares were completely different – these were the ones that scared him the most. His dreams started the same way that they did when he returned from Ishval: orange flames flickering in their destruction, black smoke engulfing the blue sky, and ash thickening the air. Suddenly, the flames would fade into white, but the ash stayed, forming into the figure he now knew as Truth. Truth would smile that unsettling, too-large grin and the gate would open, hundreds of little grasping hands reaching towards him. He felt the hands grab him and pull him through the gateway, his world suddenly turning black. He always woke up when his dream world went dark, terrified that he had lost his vision permanently. Unable to fall back asleep, and somewhat reluctant to close his eyes and see only darkness, he would make himself a cup of coffee and wait for the rest of the world to awake. As the sun would rise, the light would comfort him.
Roy Mustang was appointed Fuhrer at the age of 40, the youngest in Amestrian history. At that time, Riza Hawkeye left the military to become the Fuhrer's personal bodyguard. By age 42, the two were married; the only question on most of their friends' and colleagues' minds was what the hell took so long. When Roy married Riza, the dreams slowed, but didn't quite stop. When he was frantically putting his hands in front of his face to ensure that he still had his sight, Riza's embrace would envelop him, and the moonlight illuminating her hair would comfort him enough that he was able to fall back asleep.
Now? Now he had a completely different reason that he was seeing the sunrise. He looked down to see the bundle in his arms; Leon Mustang was only a month old. To allow Riza as much sleep as possible, Roy tried to get up the second he heard him start to whimper. It wasn't as if he minded, though; he enjoyed the early morning hours with his son.
Just as the birds began to sing and the early morning haze filled the room, softly filtering through the curtains, Riza padded into the nursery, sleep tousled and rubbing her eyes.
"Long night?" She asked.
"No, we've only been up for about an hour," Roy returned.
"You know, you can wake me up so you can get some sleep, too."
Roy shrugged, and looked at the light cascading down Leon's face.
"No," he said, "I like spending this time with him. You're with him all day while I'm at work. This is the least I can do."
Riza softly smiled and looked at her two boys. Her husband hasn't had a nightmare since Leon was born. Roy still wasn't sleeping the way he should, but for the first time, he didn't seem to care. For the first time in his life, he wasn't afraid to watch the day begin.
As he smiled down at his son, Roy finally realized that he didn't have to wait for the dawn to break to find the light any longer.