I guess I can't really blame you for disappearing the way you did. You were always watching the Boss's back, always watching him run off to one more battle, and I guess it became one too many. That last one really did a number on us all, especially Lieutenant Hawkeye. It really was in poor taste to leave her behind like that, Mustang. Or all of us, for that matter. Did you ever think that we might all be willing to follow you to Hell and back, or to stay, if it came to that?

You were always so busy watching Ed walking straight and proud before you that you never noticed. I watched you the same way. I looked up to you, proud to call you my commander. You and the Boss are both men I strive harder to emulate.

I'm here, waiting. I'm watching over your men for you, Bastard Colonel. That sure is strange, coming from me, isn't it? But your men, they act like they're fine, but each day is a struggle. Fuery practically idolized you, don't you know? But I suppose you did. He's a bit lost, like a puppy on the streets. Breda is constantly calculating his next move, but without you to check himself against, he second guesses everything constantly. Falman has his family, of course. Sometimes, I envy him that. It anchors him in a way none of the rest of us have. But even he misses you. He's quieter than ever.

Speaking of family, I look in on Mrs. Hughes from time to time. She is doing well, taking great care of Elicia, of course. Man, that girl is growing like a weed. I bet you don't even recognize her when you get back. Maybe I should take some pictures for you.

Hawkeye was really hit the hardest when you left. It was so hard for her when you were just in the north. That moment you came back, striding in all dashing with that eye patch, like you owned the whole damn battlefield, gave her a cruel hope. You better come back, you bastard. Her heart's in pieces all over the floor, and she's too damn broken to even realize it. She's my commander now, and she pushes us each day, just like you used to (though without the promise of miniskirts), but I worry about her each evening when she goes home alone. Did you know Black Hayate died? Got sick one day and was gone three days later. Nothing that could've been done about it. That woman's life is falling down around her ears. She doesn't deserve that, Mustang.

I'm still watching your back, Roy, as you walk away from me. I'm still trying to reach you, to become who you were. I don't deny you your path, but I sure as hell hope it leads you back around this way some day. This team of yours can't hold on much longer without you.

J. Havoc

Havoc read through the letter once more, nodded in satisfaction, and sealed it in an envelope. Then he pulled out a rather battered old lighter, flicked the striker a couple times until the small flame steadied, and held the corner of the letter over it. He held onto the letter for another moment, watching the clear orange flames lick at the white paper, turning it to blackened ash as a thin line of smoke twisted up into the air. Then he tossed it into the fireplace, pocketed the lighter, and left the empty townhouse. The past was behind him and he had things to be doing.

AN: So, I feel like this is a little all over, but I also thought that was fitting. How many of us write perfectly composed letters?

I know it's kind of short, but it's been awhile since I've posted anything, and I feel a bit out of practice, so please let me know what you think!