Disclaimer: To nobody's surprise - I obviously don't own any Fullmetal Alchemist stuff. I also stole the idea for this - it's from the movie "It's a Wonderful Life". I have a couple new characters that I made up - but they're only extras - nothing huge.
Author's notes: Hey! Ummmm...What was I going to say? Well...This story is sorta random - and a bit more upbeat and funny in places then I had planned - it's sad and emotional too at times...at least I hope it is...Also...I donno if this idea has been done a lot before - sorry if it has! I'm honestly not trying to copy people or anything!
I'd love it if you'd review, but you don't have to...If you do review though, and you start bashing my story - would you atleast tell me why? Please? You're already writing that you don't like it - so you could at least explain a bit...
One more thing: I'm human. (Surprise, surprise) Not Vulcan, or Klingon, or Time Lord. So I make mistakes sometimes...I'm not the best proof-reader in the world - so please forgive me if I have a couple grammar errors. At least I'm trying!
Snow fell in deep drifts around central. Carolers sang Christmas songs at street corners and weaths hung on doors.
Roy Mustang struggled through the snow banks, cursing under his breath about the weather. In his rush to get to the warmth of his office he took the stairs two at a time; slipping and falling half way up.
"Sir!" A blond haired man with a cigarette dangling from his mouth came rushing up to the colonel and bent to help him up.
"Second lieutenant Havoc." Mustang batted away him and stood brushing the snow off his coat. "I told you to ice these steps weeks ago! Why on earth didn't you?!"
"Yes sir. And if you'll recall; it was the middle of July when you gave the order." Havoc said quickly.
"That was my plan to make sure you had it done by March you fool. Do you think I got to be a colonel by putting off working?" Mustang didn't bother waiting for Havoc's answer. Instead he pulled open the door to central and escaped into its warm hallways.
"Merry Christmas, sir." Riza Hawkeye greeted Mustang softly as he entered his office.
"Hello Lieutenant." He muttered.
"What's wrong sir?"
Mustang slumped into his chair and began digging through paper work, after several minutes he looked up. "It's this time of year. It's freezing out-side – shops are crowed. And people won't stop singing."
"Some people like it that way sir."
"Well I don't, it's annoying." Mustang bent down and began furiously scribbling on the documents before him.
"You have plans for tonight sir?"
"Why do you ask?" He didn't look up from his work, but continued on, his pen making scratching sounds.
"It's Christmas eve."
"I was planning on working. Now why are you giving me the third degree lieutenant?"
"Only making conversation, sir" Hawkeye said softly. She stood silently by the sparklingly clean windows for a moment, watching the snow fall.
Mustang continued to work, but he couldn't seem to focus. His eyes caught the glint of the brass fram that held the Hughes family picture. Gracia smiled fondly, holding Elicia in one arm, the other rested on her husband's shoulder – as if nothing were wrong. As if Maes had never died…Roy looked down quickly, but he could feel the eyes in the photograph staring at him, watching his every move without ever once blinking. The picture had never bothered him before, on the contrary – Roy had felt it was something like a good luck charm – but now…
"There's no such thing as luck." Roy muttered under his breath in a voice barely audible. "If there was luck then you wouldn't be dead." He placed the picture in his desk drawer – slamming it with more force then was necessary. It's my fault. He thought bitterly. If it hadn't been for me – He stopped to picture what things would be like if Maes wasn't dead. Mustang could see it all so clearly in his minds eye. Elicia would be dressed all in red velvet and green ribbons – the poster child of what every toddler should be. And Gracia; she'd be sitting by the fire on her husband's lap, probably feeding him cookies. 'She was so devoted…' Mustang thought with a pang. All she wanted was a quite life for her family – and he'd taken it away from her. Maes was trying to help him when he died. And it was all Roy Mustang's fault.
He coughed loudly to stifle the cry of pain that grew in his throat. Not in front of Riza. Good lord, anybody else but her. He thought, brushing at his eye which was beginning to grow wet.
"I miss him too sir." Hawkeye said quietly from her corner by the window.
She knew. How did she always know?! Mustang pretended to be confused. "Miss who?" He asked in what he hoped was an unconcerned voice.
"Hughes, sir."
Mustang bit his lip and bent over his desk.
Riza ignored the awkward silence that followed. "Perhaps you could go see him." She suggested after a minute.
"I've got all this paper work…" Mustang began, searching for some excuse. He didn't think he could face Hughes. Already the guilt was weighing him down more then ever, like lead inside him, a heavy nagging poison, slowly killing him from the inside…
"It's Christmas sir." Hawkeye looked out at the bright lights glowing down the tiny street – Even in the dim evening light they shone brightly. "I think he could use some company…"
Mustang sat very still for a second. He knew it was no good to resist. She'd have her way in the end. -Hawkeye always did. At last he stood and crossed to the coat stand where his heavy black coat hung, damp from the melted snow. A large muddy puddle lay beneath it and Mustang nearly slipped in it. Cursing, he steadied himself and threw the coat over himself, then looked across at Riza.
"See you in a bit." He muttered awkwardly.
"Yes colonel." She sighed. "Tell him I said hello."
Mustang didn't answer, but let the door slam shut behind him, leaving Riza Hawkeye alone in the empty office.