Ok, everyone, I am proud to present the much-demanded sequel to The Heroes of Amestris! After much deliberation, I have decided to give people what they were asking for. Thank you so much for getting excited enough to want a sequel! I hope that this meets expectations. I am enthusiastic about my idea for the direction of the story, so please stick with me through to the end. I think it will be worth your while.

If you have not read the first story, I strongly urge you to stop now and read the original story. I do not do any kind of review of what happened, so it will be easier on you and will make a lot more sense if you read that first.

Thanks everybody! Enjoy!

I do not own FMA or FMAB.

Five years ago Roy Mustang died while aboard a train.

Roy had ridden in the back of the taxi in silence, incapable of clear or concise thought. The only thing he had been aware of had been the growing distance between himself and the house—the person—that was both heaven and hell to him now. After exiting the taxi with the grudgingly accepted (and much needed) assistance of the cab driver, Roy had miraculously found the strength to hobble to the ticket booth and soon after trudge onto the train bound for some inconsequential town. He hadn't cared to look at the ticket which had plainly displayed his destination. Something instinctual within him informed him that he probably wouldn't reach the end location.

It was strange. The more time that had passed the less pain and discomfort Mustang had felt. Seeming to float through the isle, he passed several passengers who paid his sallow skin and hunched shoulders no heed, too busy with their suitcases or their children to observe the ending of a human life. Eventually he found a seat approximately midway, next to a window. He leaned his cooled forehead against the freezing glass and felt no change in temperature. Roy had been only vaguely aware that he had felt nearly nothing by that time. All Roy could feel was the bitter disappointment in his failed affair with Edward, but it had been muted by coming death. His chest had barely risen or fallen with his shallow breaths.

The train finally vibrated to life and had begun to pull away. Long forgotten, Roy's suitcase had remained on the train station platform in solitude, flat on its side as if a passerby had kicked it over and moved on without noticing or caring.

A man had sat next to him just as the train had left the station and was picking up speed. Smiling, Roy hadn't bothered to turn his head to ascertain who the man had been. It was unnecessary.

"I was wondering when you were going to show up." Roy greeted, still smiling. Not only had his breaths been shallow, but it had become more difficult to draw in air at all.

"Well, you know me, I like to make an entrance," Maes Hughes offered in his usual nonchalance. "I've been watching you, you know. Really, Roy, you and that kid had to make such a mess of everything, huh?"

"That's not something that I have any desire to discuss with you."

"Sure, sure" Hughes had obligingly backed off the subject. "Anyway, what's done is done. You've only got about. . ." Maes had shifted his arm and pulled back his sleeve to check his wrist watch. "35 seconds left to live with those consequences."

Roy had stopped for a moment. He could barely intake air at all, confirming his dead friend's words. The need to apologize while he still had the time overpowered him. "Maes, I'm so sorry I wasn't able to take care of your family for you, that I had forgotten you."

Maes had allowed a small, grim smile. "My girls are strong. They are taking care of themselves just fine." A pause had passed. "And I didn't want you living your entire life mourning for me. Believe me, your ailment was the best thing to happen to you."

Roy had sighed his final breath, somewhat relieved. "Maybe you're right." A sharp pain had stabbed through his heart, stopping its beats, and he was suffocated on the fluid that had pooled in his lungs.

Hughes grinned. "Hey, I usually am, aren't I?" Roy had been jerking just slightly, his body struggling against its impending death desperately, despite his personal acceptance of his end.

Ed.

With the last of his strength fading into oblivion, his hand reached out of its own accord and grabbed the wrist of the man beside him. But the wrist he had grabbed and the following astonished and seemingly far-away "Hey!" did not belong to his dead friend. Hughes had left him to his lonely death among a throng of strangers. Quickly his consciousness had slipped from him, and his grasp slackened from the unknown man's arm.

Moments later, he was dead.

Today was the fifth anniversary of Roy's death, and yet he could still remember up to that point so clearly. The rest of that day's events had been explained to him. The man whose arm Roy had latched onto had shouted "Hey!" from surprise, capturing the attention of those within close proximity. Several passengers had turned their heads in mild curiosity to glance at the man who had shouted. After Mustang's hand went limp, the man had shaken him, asking if he was alright. When he had gotten no response, he had leapt to his feet and cried, "I think this guy's dead! Somebody, help!" Another man had calmly hurried up the isle and to Roy's side, checking his pulse. He then had proceeded to shove the first man out of the way and performed a very complicated combination of alchemy and alkahestry, causing an alarmingly bright light that had several people screaming in fear and the train to shake.

Somehow, and Mustang still had no way of piecing this complex science together logically, the fluid had cleared from his lungs and his heart had begun to beat once again. Once he was stable, the healer had searched Roy's pockets until he found the train ticket. With slight surprise, the mysterious healer had read the ticket which had indicated that Roy was heading to the healer's hometown. He had noted the lack of luggage accompanying the dying Roy and took it upon himself to bring him, still unconscious, into his home once they had reached their destination. Mustang had awoken the following day in an unfamiliar bed with unfamiliar gray eyes hovering over his face.

And Roy Mustang has lived there ever since.