Warnings: Small pseudo-spoilers for later FMA chapters, but if you're on this site, you should have read far enough, what with all the Chapter 102 spoilers flying around.
Characters: Roy Mustang and Madame Christmas, for the most part.
Summary: Growing up in a brothel must have been an interesting experience for Roy, and raising him was have been a challenge for Chris. Here is that story.
Disclaimer: I do not own Fullmetal Alchemist, though I wish I did.
Author's Note: This my first FMA fanfic, so I really would like some reviews. Also, though it may no seem like it in this chapter, but should be obvious from the summary, this story will contain gratuitous amounts of Chris Mustang, because she is awesome. There may or may not be hints of Royai in later chapters--and by later, I mean much later.
Chapter 1
"Damned new-fangled contraptions," muttered the senior of the two military police officers investigating the scene of the accident. "Who the hell would ride in one of them?"
The officer had only spoken his thoughts aloud, but his more junior partner looked up from his examination of the two bodies anyway. "Sir?"
The older man quirked an eyebrow. "Wasn't talkin' to you, Higgs."
"Oh, I know," replied Higgs. "But what are you talking about, anyway."
"Look at these poor people. Wasn't a horse-and-buggy that killed them." He sighed. "What're they called? 'Automobiles?'"
"Yes sir. Well, at least it will be easy to track down the driver. Not too many people around here own an auto."
"Fat lot of good it'll do these two."
The two officers looked down at the bodies, the bodies of a young married couple. They were both dark-haired and dressed in nice clothes--a nice dinner for two. Their last dinner.
The automobile had hit them both full-on. They were almost completely unrecognizable, their bodies broken from the impact and their faces bloodied and beaten.
Higgs reached into the man's jacket pocket and pulled out his wallet. He wasn't carrying much money: either the family didn't have much to begin with or he had spent most of it on his dinner. A card in one of the sleeves read: "Richard Mustang." Well, at least they had a name to work with.
There was something else in the other sleeve of this Richard Mustang's wallet. Higgs tugged it out.
"Oh, damn it all," he swore.
His partner turned from where he was examining the woman, concerned. An "oh, damn it all" from Higgs was the equivalent of a much fouler phrase on another man. "What is it?"
"It" was a photograph of a young dark-haired man and his family. The man's eyes were dark-colored and happy. He was grinning, and the grin was so infectious that even the two officers could scarcely stop themselves from smiling in return.
The woman next to him, obviously his wife, was beautiful in an exotic way. Her hair was long and dark, framing a round face that was obviously not Amestrian. Her almond-shaped dark eyes tilted up at the corners. She wore a dress not unlike those worn in Xing, hinting at her origins.
She held a boy, who couldn't be older than four, in her arms. He resembled her greatly, especially around the eyes and in the shape of his face. The young man was visible in him too, tempering the Xingese features enough that one looking at the boy away from his mother wouldn't immediately guess that he was Xingese. It gave him an exotic flair: In time, this little boy would be quite the charmer.
Higgs and his partner looked at the photograph and then at the two bodies. Past the contusions and the blood, the faces of the two adults could be discerned.
Which meant, of course, that they were going to have to tell a four year old boy that his parents were never coming home.
Down at the station, the senior partner logged in the two bodies, leaving Higgs the job of informing the family. He knocked on the door of the Mustang residence, hoping against all hope that no one would answer.
His hope was denied as the door swung open to reveal a sleepy little boy with a mop of glossy black hair that stuck on the side of his head. His black, almond-shaped eyes turned up the corners. He was, without a doubt, the little boy in the photograph.
"Hello," said Higgs, unsure of where to begin. The eyes flashed with annoyance at being woken up and then having his time wasted. Higgs chuckled to himself.
"Honest eyes, this one has."
"What's your name?"
"Roy," the boy yawned, rubbing his eyes. "Who are you?"
"My name is Michael Higgs. I work for the military police. Can I come in?"
Roy stood aside and Higgs stepped into the house. "My mama and papa are out right now. They should be home soon, 'cause the babysitter left. She always leaves when it's time for them to come home."
Higgs swallowed. Better to just say it. "Roy, your parents won't be coming home tonight."
"Did Papa drink too much and get in trouble again? Mama always says that he drinks too much, and Aunty said so too the one time I saw her."
An aunt? Well, at least there'd be some place to put the kid while the judge sorted out custody and will issues.
"No, Roy, your father didn't get in trouble for drinking."
"Then why are you here? Did Mama do something wrong?"
"No, of course not," Higgs said. "Roy, do you know what automobiles are?"
Roy nodded. "They have wheels like carriages but no horses pull them. They have an engine. They were developed by a collaboration of engineers and alchemists. My mama and papa say they're dangerous and we should stay away from them. Is this important?"
"Yes, it is," replied Higgs, somewhat surprised at the boy's response. He wasn't a dumb kid. "Roy, earlier tonight, an automobile driver hit both of your parents and drove away. No one was around to help them, and they were dead before the police arrived."
Roy's eyes grew wide and his black brows contracted. He said nothing.
"Do you understand what I'm saying?" Higgs asked gently. Roy nodded. His eyes filled tears.
"When you said they're not coming home tonight, you mean they're not coming home at all, don't you?"
Higgs pulled him gently into his arms and picked him up. "I'm so, so sorry."
"Sorry isn't going to bring them back, Mr. Higgs."
Higgs bit his lip to keep from crying at the boy's tone. "No, it's not. Nothing can do that. But you're alive, Roy Mustang, and we can do something with you."
Roy shifted in his arms, pulled away from Higgs's shoulder. The look in his eyes, behind the tears that coursed down his cheeks, were fiery with determination, shinning with a stubborn will.
"Now, what's your aunt's name and where does she live?"
Roy blinked away his tears, took a deep breath, and said, "Her name's Chris Mustang, and she lives in Central."
Higgs nodded, and carried Roy Mustang away from his house to the military police station.
Roy had started crying again on the way to the station, and he was now asleep on Higgs's lap as Higgs started the search for one Chris Mustang of Central.
The process was harder than he expected. He had searched through all of the department's records of people filed under both "M" and "C" in Central, but he had found nothing. Whatever this woman did for a living, she didn't file income taxes for it and she kept well away from the law.
Given what that generally implied, he wasn't sure he wanted to send a four year old boy to live with her anyway. Of course, he could be mistaken. He hoped to God he was.
He picked up the phone and dialed Central's MP station.
"Hello?" came the voice on the other line.
"Er, hi, this is Higgs from the MP station in East City. I was wondering, do you have any records on a Chris Mustang?"
"Hold, please."
Well, the folks in Central sure were a rude bunch. Higgs heard the rustling of pages and the slamming of a desk drawer.
"Nope, sorry."
"That's fine. Sorry to bother you."
Higgs hung up the phone with a sigh. He had one last shot at finding this woman. He stood up, replacing Roy on his chair, and cleared his throat to alert the rest of the MP's.
"Hey, do any of you guys know a Chris Mustang in Central?"
There was a smattering of laughter from a pair of officers he didn't associate with much.
"Why do you want to know?" One called back.
Higgs pointed to the boy in his chair. "She's his aunt. "You know the bodies we brought in earlier tonight? Those are his parents. The kid's going to Chris Mustang until some justice of the peace figures out what to do with him."
"Poor kid," muttered the other. "If you're looking for her, you'd be better off searching under 'Christmas'. I wouldn't send a kid to her, though."
"Why?" Higgs asked.
"She works for Madame Hari in Central. You know who Madame Hari is?"
Higgs shook his head. The others laughed again. One pulled a card from his pocket and offered it to him.
Higgs crossed the room and took it, frowning.
"We're giving it to you because we feel bad for the kid. You'll have to pay us back later."
Higgs returned to his desk. Roy was curled up like a cat on his chair, and Higgs didn't have the heart to disturb him.
Even in sleep that determined, stubborn look hadn't entirely left the boy. Higgs felt deep down that this boy was going to do something great. Maybe being left in the care of what those two MP's were implying might not be the worst thing for him. It could give him talents that would later become useful.
He picked up the phone.
Twenty-six years later, when very confused, contradicting reports would flow in from Central that Roy Mustang was staging a coup d'etat against King Bradley, and then he was helping him, and then word was coming out that Bradley was homunculus, whatever that was, and then.....
Higgs would pause, thinking of the look on the face of a four year old boy called Roy Mustang, and wonder if they were the same person.
Great things indeed, he would decide.
Secondary Author's Note: Kudos to you if you know where Chris's employer's name came from!