"You should really take it with you."
The words drifted across his mind from long ago and pulled him into a memory, a dream.
He looked at the girl across the kitchen and the young dark haired lad, head down at the kitchen table. Was he sleeping? Was he studying? He watched as he saw himself lift his head and look at her, short blonde hair and eyes so gentle, pragmatic and a little sad. She held out an umbrella.
"You should really take it with you. It looks like rain and you don't want to be getting soaked."
As he smiled he felt his face push against something hard.
"You should really take it with you."
The words were closer now and pushed him into an unexpected dread that caught in his chest. The girl was a woman and her voice not so soft. Her eyes hardened, but still pragmatic, still sad.
She held out a long pale coat to the dark haired man as he stood in a partially demolished building. The dread started to build as he looked at that coat. It was like a shroud that covered his dead hopes. This place was so wrong.
"You should really take it with you. It's cold once the sun sets."
He tried to turn his head away but the hard thing stopped him.
"You'll probably need it."
The words drifted away again. Into the not yet, a dream. The voice spoke a possibility, a maybe, a hope.
The woman lay in their bed, tousled blond hair falling over her face. Her bright eyes peaceful, still pragmatic, but loving. The dark haired man lay along side her.
"You should get some sleep. You'll probably need it." Her hand reached out toward him to caress his cheek.
The hard thing caressed his face instead.
"You'll probably need it."
With unreal clarity her words pulled him into groggy reality.
"You should really take it with you. You'll probably need it," advised Lieutenant Hawkeye. "If you get to the Quartermaster's and he needs the Form 33A as well you'll just have to come back for it."
Mustang awoke and opened his eyes to the blurry, skewed view of the papers he had scrunched up when he lay his head down on his desk. His cheek was almost numb from being pressed against the hard surface of the desk and he could feel a growing drop of salvia starting to pool off the corner of his mouth.
"Good point." Master Sergeant Fuery agreed and picked up the extra paperwork as he left the office.
Colonel Mustang cherished the moment even as it evaporated. Waking up to her words, her voice. Waking up to her. The half memory of an impossible future in their life of present threats. A maybe life in a world of different choices.
AN - This is was inspired by a head canon by hawkeyedflame on Tumblr, and if I could figure out how I'd put a link to it. :)
Thanks for reading and any feedback always welcome.