Alright, I've been in an FMA Roy mood of late… so I figured I'd put out something else. It's a little bit darker then my last one, but I thought it would be alright to do.
Disclaimer: Do you really think I'd write fan fictions about things I owned? Come on now…
A Friend's Promise
He stood in the middle of a bright room… well… He supposed it wasn't so much a room as it was… something… he couldn't quite say what it was, actually… It could have been snow… but he wasn't cold… His feet were flat, but… he couldn't feel the ground beneath him… He was in his uniform… Strange, though… It made sense and it didn't at the same time… Perhaps he was to be given a new assignment…? That could be it… But where was the fuer…? Or any one else, for that matter…? He was the only one standing in an ever lasting field of white… Yet… it didn't feel like he was alone…
"Good evening, Colonel…"
He turned slowly to see something materialize from the white. Not just something, but a man. A man he recognized. A man he thought of as a brother, a best friend.
"Hughes," he said softly. The man in front of him smiled, his glasses shining a bit from the white. Unlike the other, he was not in uniform. Instead, he was in casual wear. a loose button up shirt and slacks.
"How've you been, Roy? I heard about your eye. Geese, I'm gone for just a little while and you go and get shot in the face. Not exactly your best move."
He laughed at that. "Well, let's just say I'll take it easy around the other one."
Hughes nodded. "You do that," he said. "Anyway, why don't we go somewhere a little more familiar?"
And just like that, the white had gone. They now stood in a dimly lit bar. Hughes took a seat near the corner, and Roy to the seat next to him. Roy looked around. The orange lights made the whole room seem darker then it really was. No one else was there, save a couple of omitted figures in the back. He couldn't make out what they were saying, or who they were. As he continued to look around the room, a thought dawned on him. He had been here before. Some time ago, when Hughes was still…
"You're dead," he said suddenly, looking at his friend. Hughes merely smiled.
"As a damn doornail." He ordered a beer from the bartender, who was shaped just like the people in the back. It was a bit foreboding. Hughes drank a bit before setting the mug back down. "What? A dead friend can't stop by to say hello every once and a while?"
"That's usually not the way things work," said Roy, confused a bit.
"Roy, when have things ever been 'usual' in your life?" he asked, taking another swig.
Roy smiled, nodding. "Good point…" He looked over the bar. Behind the dimmed out bottles of booze, he saw himself. Strange thing was, he didn't have his eye patch on. He blinked and put the tips of his fingers to his left eye. He could feel the leather of the patch, but in the mirror, his fingers only touched skin. He looked at the Hughes in the mirror, which differed also from the Hughes beside him. The reflection was in his uniform. His mouth was also moving, where the real one's lips remained still.
"Oh, don't mind that," said Hughes. "That's just a memory."
"Memory," Roy repeated. "Right…" He watched as his own reflection began to speak in noiseless words. He turned his gaze from the mirror and looked to his dead companion. "So. What is it you want to talk to me about?"
"What have I always wanted to talk to you about?" Hughes asked back, draining a bit more alcohol. He turned, his head propped on his elbow. "Roy, you need to get yourself a wife."
Roy let a small chuckle tingle from his throat. He turned back to look to the floor behind the bar. "Figures," he said. "Only Maes Hughes would come back from the dead to tell me to get married."
"Only because you should," said Hughes, holding up a hand. "Really, Roy. I've been watching you. And I know you want to, too."
Roy paused for a moment, his hands resting on the bar. "Things haven't been that serious," he said calmly.
"Only because you're scared." He sipped some more of his drink and set it back down. "I know you, Mustang. You've been asking yourself that question for months now."
"What question?" asked Roy, quirking an eyebrow.
"'Should I ask her?' What else?" He put down his empty mug and pushed it to the side.
Roy sighed, his chin on his palm. "Seems you really have been watching me."
"I always said I would, right?" Roy looked over to him and the two men smiled at each other. That's true – Hughes always said that as long as Roy was moving forward, he would be right behind him, making sure he did what he needed to, pushing him towards it. The one thing Roy could always count on. Or used to, at least. That thought caused Roy's smile to diminish, his eyes cast to the side. Hughes, seeing this action, patted his shoulder. He looked over to him. "Don't think about that," he said with his reassuring smile. "I'm here now, right?"
"Are you?" said Roy. "For all I know, I could be going crazy. I probably am, come to think of it."
"Then that means you're sane." Hughes put up a finger. "If you think you're insane, you're sane. It's bullet proof logic."
"And if you think you're sane?"
"Haven't figured that part out yet," Hughes admitted. "But anyway, that doesn't matter. Look, lately, you've been burying yourself in your work. Unnecessary work, may I add. All because you're afraid of admitting to yourself that you want to make a commitment."
"Now you sound like my mother," said Roy.
"I mean it. You've got a choice to make. Pretend you're just fine with work or actually do something to help yourself."
"Maes, why do you even care?" Roy snapped his head over to Hughes, now starting to get irritated. "I know you're my friend, but why are you always so insistent? It's my life, isn't it?"
Hughes sighed and looked to the mirror. Their reflections have gone now. Obviously, the memory of them had finished. "I worry about you. I know how close you've come to killing yourself over your work. Literally. When we first started out, you were ambitious, and ready for anything. Now, you're just immersed in it. You're loosing yourself. And believe me, I was happy when you decided to make a move for the better, but now you're neglecting that life, too. When does it end, Roy? At what point do you say: 'That's it. I can't take it'? And when that happens, what will happen to you? You keep this up, and you really will go crazy. You need a distraction. Something to take the edge off."
"Usually, marriage is what causes stress," said Roy, trying to get out of the serious aspect of things.
"I meant a family," said Hughes, frowning. He got back his smile and looked to the rows of bottles. "When Alisa was born, I felt like I was the luckiest man in the world. If I had a bad day or felt like the world was crumbling around me, I'd see her face. Say hello to her, look at a picture of her… In many ways, she kept me from going nuts." He turned back to Roy. "And that's what you need to do. Before I see you go somewhere you can't get out of." He became serious and put his hand on Roy's shoulder. "Promise me, Roy. You have to. Swear you'll do it… Promise me… Promise me, Roy… Promise me… that you'll learn to live…"
Slowly, the bar around him began to swirl and fade… Roy felt himself drifting away from his friend, the pressure on his shoulder leaving him… He held out his hand… tried to call for him… Wait…! There was so much more he wanted to say… So much more he wanted to know… Wait… wait… wait…
Roy's eyes opened to the ticking of his clock. He stared at the dark ceiling, the night sky still gracing his window. He laid there a while, feeling like lead. He felt like he didn't want to move again. Gently, he put his hand to his face. Was it all a dream? Yes… of course it had to be a dream… Hughes was dead. He couldn't come back to tell him to get married. That would just be ludicrous. The dead simply couldn't come back. Not even with Alchemy.
Roy sat up in bed, wiping a small lining of sweat from his temple. He looked over to the figure laying asleep beside him. He stared at her for a long time, contemplating what to do. It seemed the dream had hit the nerve of what he had been thinking of for a long time. He then looked away and saw himself in the dresser mirror. Unlike the memory of the dream, he still had a patch over his left eye. He felt it for a moment, and then got out of bed, putting on a bathrobe. He walked along the house until he got out into the back yard, his bare feet hitting the grass below him. His dark eye drifted up to the stars, twinkling and dancing behind their navy curtain. The wind blew up his black bangs for a moment, the moonlight washing over his skin.
"Roy?"
Roy turned to see Riza in her own bathrobe, watching him from the door way to the back yard. Roy looked away and went back to watching the stars. There was a silence between them, the wind whistling to itself. It was then joined by the gentle steps of Riza as she came up beside him.
"What are you doing out here so late?" she asked. "Is there something wrong? Roy?" Roy didn't look at her, but instead kept his face to the sky. Riza turned her head upwards as well, as if to see what he did. When she didn't, she glanced at him and turned back to the house. "Don't stay up all night." She began to walk away just as Roy stopped her.
"Hey, Riza," he said evenly. She turned her head towards him. "What do you think about getting married?" Riza's eyes widened as Roy turned his head to meet her gaze. There was another pause.
"Married…?" Riza repeated. The breeze picked up her hair, making her golden locks dance a bit. Roy smiled, his shoulders lowering a bit. She truly was a gorgeous woman. Roy took a couple steps towards the house and gently took her hand.
"Let's go to bed," he suggested quietly. Riza let a small smile grace her lips and she nodded. Leaning into him, the two of them headed towards the house.
I don't know, I just got sentimental all of the sudden. Well, tell me what you think!
T.