Um, the idea for this originated in the FMA fan thread on Gaia. So this is dedicated to my friends over there. I believe Inundation and Karuka (known as Eialyne here on FFN) originally came up with the idea.

Anyway, enjoy! And write reviews. The force compels you to. Or something.

Me no own, bla bla bla...

Roy grumbled as he pulled out the drop-down ladder from the ceiling. He really didn't see why he needed to be doing this. But Lieutenant Hawkeye had insisted he clean out his storage space so he wouldn't have to pile all his files and alchemy texts all over the floor of his study. Protesting had only gotten more reprimands, not to mention way more sarcasm than he thought he deserved from his other subordinates. He could have sworn that even the Lieutenant's dog was glaring at him.

He climbed up the ladder and sneezed at the dust. It really had been a long time since he had been up here. When was the last time? Probably when he first moved to Central, now that he thought about it.

A soft noise made him turn. He squinted into the darkness. For some reason, probably because of Ishbal, his first thought was an enemy. Then he realized that would be ridiculous. This was just his attic, who would wait in a rarely-used attic to try to kill him? Maybe he had rats. This idea didn't particularly appeal to him either. He wormed his hand along the wall, trying to find the switch. He eventually felt it, and turned on the bare bulb that hung from the center of the low, slanted ceiling. He was prepared for anything from a mouse to a homunculus. What he was not prepared for was a supposedly dead friend raising a hand in greeting.

"Yo," Hughes said quite calmly from where he was sitting cross-legged on the floor.

Roy stared down at him. For a while he wasn't able to speak. Eventually he managed to splutter, "Wh- what are you doing here?!"

Maes Hughes raised an eyebrow at him. "Frankly, I'd hoped you'd be a little gladder to see me."

"But— I thought you were dead! How are you alive right now?"

"Did you think I could die after only getting to fuss over my precious daughter for three short years?"

"That doesn't explain anything! And—" Roy collapsed onto a dusty cardboard box, "What are you doing in my attic?!"

"Well, I had to stay in the area to keep an eye on my family, and you never check up here."

"And why did you have to hide here, anyway? Why didn't you tell me you were still alive?!" Roy looked around the attic. Almost every empty bit of wall, ceiling, or cardboard seemed to be covered in old pictures of the Hughes family. It was like a shrine.

Hughes scratched his stubbly chin. "Actually, I'm not entirely clear on the specifics of that. The artist apparently couldn't bear to kill me off, but said she needed the plot point. Otherwise no one would ever get pissed enough at Envy to knock him off. They'd just be rather annoyed by him."

Roy wasn't sure whether to angry or confused. He decided he was both. "What the hell does that mean?"

Hughes stopped scratching his chin. "I don't really know. But take it up with her, if you ever see her. Then again, I doubt you will. I only saw her once, and she was just explaining the situation to me and telling me to keep out of sight for a while."

Roy couldn't stop staring at him. A thought occurred to him.

"Wait a minute, what have you been eating?"

"Weeell," Hughes hesitated. "I've been sneaking downstairs while you were at work, and there would just be food lying around, so –"

Roy suddenly started to stand up, fury in his voice.

"So that's where all my licorice disappeared to– Ow!" He rubbed his head. He had forgotten about the low, slanted ceiling.