Disclaimer: I do not own FMA
Claimer: Alfonso and Aureole are mine
Shipping: There is implied EdXRoy here
Resistance
Dark eyes glance up from the stack of papers on the desk. Almost, as if relying on some underlying instinct, his gaze turns to the framed photograph. Precious memories filling his head, laughter seemingly emptying out into the room like it did on that day, something tugs at the edges of the Fuhrer's lips. An expression that hadn't been present in what seemed like an eternity; happiness.
"Sir, may I come in?"
There was a light knock at the door. Sighing softly, he turns the photograph face down before acknowledging the lower ranking officer's presence. Wooden barrier creaking open softly, a head of blond hair enters the room. A warm mug of coffee in her hands, Hawkeye sets the beverage down on a coaster as she takes to the Fuhrer's side. Placing a hand on his shoulder, she spots the overturned frame.
"Are you alright, sir?"
"Yeah, everything's fine..."
"Roy?"
He looks up into her eyes. A look of concern is splayed across her delicate features. He doesn't say anything though. Just places his hand over hers kissing the pale skin gently; diamond engagement ring sparkling lightly through the slip between both sets of fingers.
Walking through the door, the pitter patter of tiny footsteps can be heard racing down the halls. Nudging and bumping, pushing and shoving, shouting and grunting; it isn't long before two little blue eyed boys burst onto the scene. Each grabbing the leg nearest to them, the adolescents squabble for their father's undivided love and attention. A small chuckle exiting his throat, the eldest Elric reaches for his sons.
"Alfonso! Aureole!"
Their mother is standing at the end of the hall. Clad in a flour dusted apron and a pair of rubber gloves coated in a thin layer of mechanic grease, she places her hands on her hips. A small frown spread across her facial features, the boys looks to their father for asylum. Ruffling their hair softly, he instantly assumes that the two of them had gotten into some sort of mischief just before he walked through the door.
"You boys had better get back in that kitchen before I count to three."
"Go on, kiddos. Listen to your mother."
Heads hung low, the duo disappear into the room from which they had came. Shaking his head softly, Edward turns to the coat rack to hang up his cloak. Upon placing the dyed fabric up on one of the hooks, something flutters to the hardwood. Spotting what looks to be like an old snapshot, he bends down taking the fallen object between his fingertips. A small grin forming across his features a bout of tears comes to his eyes. It had been so long since he'd seen that smiling face.
"Ed?"
He shakes his head lightly and shoves the forgotten memory into the pocket of his pants.
~There was no going back for either of them