I'm Thankful For My Family
By: Bar-Ohki
Disclaimer: I don't own FMA! But I do own my OCs.
Rating: T, due to cursing and insane uses of shot guns.
Other Stuff: You guessed it! A Pen or A Sword? Thanksgiving special! You don't have to have read A Pen or A Sword? to enjoy this story. The premise is that Roy has a Southern style family (Western in the story). This story won't be word for word in A Pen or A Sword?, but it will be mentioned and referred to. This is the story of the last time Roy Mustang went home. The relative present for this story is in the anime not too long after Lab 5.
West City bound train, Amestris, November 20th, Seven Years Ago
Lieutenant Colonel Roy Mustang was on a train. He had just been promoted and was currently working in Central. After his promotion his mother had sent him a dead possum in celebration. The young solider flinched at the memory of the chaos that had ensued from revealing the contents ofthat package. Besides the possum there was a little letter telling him to kindly 'get his promoted ass home' for the holidays.
The real icing on the cake was that his mother had put money in the letter to pay for the fare. With a quick call to his superiors, then the train station, Roy Mustang found himself traveling west. He stared out the window as he watched the familiar landscape of his childhood whiz by.
Nothing's changed. He chuckled. His chuckle was cut short as more recent memories surfaced. …Except for me….
This was his first Thanksgiving after Ishbal. The first time he would have seen his family since the war.
And Roy Mustang was not looking forward to it.
Train, just before Clayston train station, Amestris. November 21st, Seven Years Ago
Roy glanced out the window at the approaching train station. It was a pretty big station, for the West anyways. It had two platforms, each with its own home-like office. It also had a large cover so that you wouldn't get hit by the weather getting off the train. Today the platform was not empty. Roy squinted and made out the figures of his parents and eight sisters.
He leaned back into the bench and sighed. He was not ready to face them, not when his scars were so fresh, his wounds still bleeding ever so slightly. With a whistle's blow and the small screech of brakes, Roy began to get up.
"Now arriving in Clayston!!" The conductor cried over the speaker. With another sigh Roy pulled his suitcase down. He quickly checked his appearance. His brown suit was clean and orderly, his dress shoes polished and shinning. With a quick nod he walked down the aisle and stood by the door. Two seconds later the train lumbered to a halt and the door opened. Roy was the only one who got off.
He could feel the eyes of the other passengers watching him walk up to his family. With a quick gathering of his courage, he pulled his lips into a smile and quickened his pace. His mother came to meet them and they hugged. Feeling his mother's old, fragile body in his arms made him feel like a monster. A monster that had been not too long ago destroying people like his mother.
"It's good to see you mummy." He told her, forcing his face to hold the happy expression he did not feel. His mother smiled back at him.
"Wilcome 'ome, ma sun." She greeted him.
"Roy!" His father came over and smacked him on the back, hard. Roy let out a cough, forcing himself to not attack his father. He grinned sheepishly, taking joy in the fact his parents hadn't changed a bit. His father was still a gigantic man, muscular and bald. His brown eyes were still surrounded by the kind, comely wrinkles that covered his father. And that ridiculous grey mustache was still as straggly as ever. Roy's mother had notably left her grey hair down, as she always did during the holidays. Her onyx eyes and wrinkles were full of life and energy.
Roy swayed on his feet a little; it was easy to snuff out that joyous energy. So very, very easy. Will I ever stop thinking of killing? He wondered.
He looked past his parents to his sisters. Cindy Lynn, the oldest had cut her brow hair short, its grey streaks more obvious now. Her onyx eyes and hard wrinkles looked onto him with nothing but worry. He flashed her one of his charming smiles and her frown deepened. Cindy had always been able to see through him.
"Welcome 'ome Roy." She told him after a pause. He nodded to her and looked onto his next eldest sister, Paige Noe. Paige was short and stocky, with brown hair and brown eyes. She smiled and waved at her brother, her little wrinkles bouncing gently. Roy met her smile with one of his own. He wasn't particularly close to Paige.
"Roy!" Called the next sister, Ella Abby. Ella had long, blond hair and onyx eyes. She was really tall and really muscular. She reminded Roy of that Armstrong fellow he had met back out on the battlefield. Except she did not have sparkles.
Janet Lane had a big smile on her face. Her large, curly hair was bouncing in her enthusiasm. She smiled, her brown eyes lit up. Roy noticed she was pregnant. He blinked once and laughed.
"Congratulations!" He called to her. Zoe Gizi, his next sister shyly pulled her head up and met eyes with him. Zoe liked to spend a lot of her time reading and sewing, so she was never loud. Like Roy she had black hair and onyx eyes, but somehow her features seemed plain. But she was by no means ugly, just simple looking. Roy gave her a warm smile which she gladly returned.
Faye Cade, the sister that followed Zoe in the order of age decent, stomped over and gave Roy a bone crushing hug. Her black hair was tied back in two beautiful ponytails, which swung around slightly. She proceeded to glare at Roy with her sharp, green eyes.
"Ya dint write." She hissed, her accent especially strong.
"Sorry." Roy mumbled. He felt saddened; the reason he didn't write was because he didn't want to lie to his parents nor did he want to tell them how bad it truly was.
"Faye, give me a turn!" Chloe Dana, the next sister, whined. Faye let go to let her younger sister to give their brother a hug. Chloe had blond, curly hair and onyx eyes. She looked exotic and attractive, having the same mystic charm as her brother. She smiled and patted Roy on the head.
"Welcome home!" She told him.
"Thanks." Roy patted her on the head back. Finally Amber Alia, the youngest of Roy's sisters came over and gave Roy a quick hug. Roy returned it, patting his sister's curly brown hair. She smiled, her sharp onyx eyes glittering.
"Hey!" She greeted him.
"It's good to be home." Roy smiled.
"Let's get you there so that will have some meaning." Cindy told everyone.
Mustang Family House, Clayston, Amestris. November 22nd, Seven Years Ago
Roy looked at his haunted expression in the mirror. He had been home all of a day and still felt alone and out of place. What was a mass murder like him doing surrounding himself with all these kind people? People who gave him nothing but smiles and hugs, people who were innocent and unaware of the real terrors of the world. He felt unclean and tainted, something he didn't want to rub off onto these people: his people, his family.
The other day his cousins had asked him to play a game of smashing with them (1). Roy had agreed and about two minutes into play he had been tackled. Without thinking he pulled his cousin to the ground, sat on him and began to choke him. Roy stopped immediately, the images of the war reeling in his head. He had gotten up and left the game, not saying a word to anyone for the rest of the evening.
It made Roy realize how he really didn't belong here. He choked back tears, trying to fight the inner sadness and distress. Behind him the door to his bedroom creaked open, making Roy spin around. Zoe was standing in the doorway, looking concerned.
"Ben'll be okay." She told him. "He understands you were just on a battlefield, and forgives you."
"Forgiven?" Roy asked, looking at the ceiling. He shut his tried eyes, his entire being aching and hurting from the war. "But am I really deserving of that?"
"Of course you are!" Zoe gasped, appalled at the thought that her brother would think such things.
"No, not with what I did. Never will I deserve it." Roy turned his gaze away from her, his body curling up to avoid her gaze.
"We listened to the news while we waited for you to come home." Zoe told him gently. "We were always waiting, trying to hear something about you, and if you were okay."
Roy said nothing, but his gaze turned dark as he grew ashamed of what he had done to them.
"Not hearing from you was hard." Zoe admitted. "We heard the Fuhrer mention that the alchemists were brought in to completely destroy the threat. The next day they announced that the war was over."
"...Yes, it ended overnight." Roy agreed.
"Pa said it was genocide. He doesn't know what the military did to accomplish it, but he knows you were caught up in the middle." Zoe continued.
"Leave." Roy told her. Zoe sighed and began to leave.
"I still love you brother." She told him, her eyes full of worry.
"Leave!!" Roy turned around and roared at her, his wild and temperamental side breaking free. Zoe's eyes widened in fear and she ran away. Roy stared at the open doorway, horrified. How could he have done that to his own sister?
"I have to leave." He muttered, knowing he'd only hurt them if he stayed. After all, the only thing he was good for anymore was hurting others.
In exhaustion, Roy flung himself on the bed. It smelled of grits, a smell of home for Roy. It made him grimace, realizing he would never find this room fitting for himself again. Everything about the home was like a wardrobe of clothes from two years ago; you could still put it all on, but nothing fit right.
Roy wasn't paying attention to anything but his depressing inner thoughts. If he had, he would have heard the padding of a young boy's feet as they came into his room.
"Great-uncle Roy?" A little, western-accented voice asked. Roy moaned slightly and turned over to see a miniature version of himself. He stared, a little freaked out and caught off guard. The boy cocked his head to the side; in his hands was a sheet of paper.
"Hi." Roy managed to grunt after a few seconds.
"Papa was right, we look a lot alike. You're like a big mirror!" The boy told him, smiling gently.
"And you are?" Roy's mind was muddled from being pulled out of his depressing thoughts so abruptly by something as innocent as a young boy.
"Jaxith Howard Skibbereen! You're my papa's mama's younger brother, great-uncle Roy!" Jaxith introduced himself. Roy blinked a few times, remembering whose son Jaxith was.
"Atticus!" He gasped, remembering his eldest sister's first son. Though technically his nephew, Atticus was not only five years Roy's senior, he was like a brother to Roy.
"Yup!" Jaxith's smile seemed to make the room brighter. "Here, look!" Jaxith handed him the paper. Roy took it and examined it carefully. It was a drawing of his sister Cindy, sitting in a chair with a bemused expression on her face. Though the picture was far from perfect, it showed remarkable promise. Jaxith had worked hard and put a lot of effort into details. If the boy kept up with his art, Roy knew he could make a living off of it.
"Wow, this is amazing." Roy admitted, the war leaving his mind.
"Thank you!" Jaxith gave him a hug. "You're my hero!"
"What?" Roy was startled, not feeling like he was much of anything to be a role model for.
"You're strong and kind and loving." Jaxith told him. "That's why you're my hero."
Roy frowned, not really sure he was any of those things. "Well, do you have any other drawings?"
"Yup! But mama says that drawing isn't important." Jaxith explained.
"But it is! Pictures might capture a moment as the eye sees it, but a drawing captures a moment as the heart sees it. That's why they are important, someone has to remember how one felt, even if it is sad." Roy told Jaxith, speaking from personal experience.
"Oh!" Jaxith seem delighted by this news. "Great-gram told me to tell you dinner was ready too!"
"Ah." Roy paled at the thought of eating with a bunch of members of the family.
Mustang Family Barn, Clayston, Amestris. November 23rd, Thanksgiving Day, Seven Years Ago
Roy Andrew Mustang sat at a banquet table surrounded by family. His family had always had Thanksgiving in the barn, because there was enough space there to house all of the family, all of it. The barn had several banquet tables set up in it, each housing several smaller, inner families of the bigger family. The entire population of Clayston was there, sitting at the tables. The mothers of the various houses were running around commanding their daughters, nieces, sisters, and granddaughters to go about putting the meal on the tables. Turkeys, hams, mashed potatoes, gravy pitchers, yams, stuffing, corn bread, grits, corn, cream of corn, homemade cranberry sauce, squash, sausages, salads, and even small fruit dishes were spread around the tables (2). The fathers of the families were cutting the meat, telling the children and sons how much food to put on their plate (and their mothers' if she was up getting rolls for the table).
Roy silently realized that this was a much larger scale operation than the war had ever been and, sadly, twice as organized. Once the food had been served, the women made short work of sitting down in their places. Roy's father stood up, tapping a knife to his wine glass to get everyone's attention. The room fell silent.
"Now we's all 'ere to be thankful. Aham thankful ma son came 'ome alive and well." There was a small applause. Roy's father sat down and his mother stood up.
"Ah am also thankful ma boy iz 'ome." She told everyone, sitting right back down after she finished. All eight of his sisters stood up, thankful for Roy's return and health. Finally it was Roy's turn to stand up and say what he was thankful for.
"I'm thankful for my family." He told everyone truthfully, sitting back down. He had a bittersweet smile on his face. Even though war had done terrible things to him, he knew one day he'd be healed. And all the people around him, his family, would see him through no matter what. Even if it involved taking up a bunch of shot guns and holding him and bystanders at gunpoint, they would see him through. And their reason was just as simple as his thanks: he was family, and that's what you did for your family.
Central, Amestris. November 2nd, Present
Colonel Roy Mustang looked out the window of his office. Down in the courtyard Edward Elric and Jaxith Skibbereen were playing a game of wall ball. He smiled to himself.
"I'm still thankful for my family." He muttered quietly.
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My family always states what we are thankful for before we eat on thanksgiving. I decided Roy's family did much the same.
1- Smashing, as mentioned in passing in A Pen or A Sword? is what we know as Rugby. But this one is played with a watermelon with freakishly hard skin. These were developed by some distant relative of Roy's; they have extra hard skins, but taste twice as good.
2- No meal is a real Southern (or Western in the case of the story) unless there is corn bread, grits, sausage, and deep fried something. The turkey and ham are what's fried.
Grits is ground corn meal, yummy stuff. Usually boiled to make a porridge-like thing with something added to it, like cheese or butter.
Now do me a favor and hug your family and tell them you're thankful they're around. Because that's what you do for you family.