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To Memories

It was late. Long past midnight and, even as Roy Mustang sat drinking his glass of Bourbon, the cloak distant and sorrowfully chimed three in the morning.

But Roy didn't hear it, taking a drink of the liquor he looked to find something that would comfort him from the nightmare of Ishbal he had, had.

Then an old photo caught his coal-black eyes. It was a picture leaning against his favorite of Maes and Gracia's wedding, where he and Maes and both been quite drunk and grinning stupidly as the clinked another cup of alcohol in their hundredth toast. But the picture leaning on this wasn't of Maes and him, it was of her.

Her chin-length red-orange hair blown to one side in the wind as she stood in front of himself, both wearing their uniform pants and their long-sleeve white collared shirts. He had both his arms around her neck and was laughing as she hand her hands back, pulling his head down closer to hers for the picture. She was laughing as well, her bright hazel eyes still dancing with the familiar fire that had given off so much warmth.

And as he became lost in the picture he could almost feel the wind whipping her sweet smelling, dyed hair into his face as he held her close to him.

But as he remembered every bit of that moment, he couldn't help but feel, that it hadn't been close enough.

He could remember well her smooth, long-fingered hands on his shoulders, working to ease the muscles in his shoulders loose as she spoke to him about many things.

She had loved to just tell him what was n her mind, and, after they had repeated this ritual a few times, he had came to look forward to telling her about his thoughts as well...

But then...what was it that had ended the laughter?

"Oh yeah..." He said to the photograph. "Ishbal, it was hard on you...harder to you then of the rest of us..."

As if waiting for the smiling girl in the photograph to reply he paused and just looked at her.

"I guess no one really understood you... To be honest, sometimes I didn't either. You where the Phoenix Alchemist, but you couldn't make fire, just control it. You where always happy... But you cried so much after that damn war."

He could see it now, smell the burning flesh as he and her went side by side to each house, he would explode one, she would reuse the flames to burn the houses around it...

She had always seemed so firm about it, never hesitating...

Maybe it had been seeing him kill that child with the gun that had first made her realize what they where doing was murder.

She had stopped eating more then a few bites...had taken no more then a sip of her rationed water, and had, after a few days, developed a fever.

"You used to say you where cold when the rest up us where practically dying of heat. At night you'd say it was hot as blazes when we where all huddled together around the fire." he moved at touched the photograph as, under the influence of his third glass of bourbon, he continued.

"When we got back it was hard to smile...Both of us where so depressed...Then one day you came over and when I opened the door...You just hugged me and started crying... that was the first time I think I'd ever seen you cry."

"But it wasn't the last." A voice said behind him, making him jump to his feet.

But she was standing there, a bottle of bourbon in her hands and a smile on her face, as the draft made her shiver.

"You know, Flame, you shouldn't drink alone. You'll turn into an alcoholic."

"...but you-"

"I came back here. I decided my leave of absents was over and I should come home." Her hazel eyes glowed with the fire they had once held as she sat on the couch next to him and clinked her glass with his.

"To memories." She said and he nodded as they both drained their glasses.

"To memories, good and bad, just the same."

Ok! BEFORE YOU REVIEW! Thsi was a test to see, should I make an ongoing fanfic about The Pheonix Alchemist and the Flame alchemist? If so, Should it cover before, during, and after the war in Ishbal? PLEASE REVIEW WITH ANSWERS TO THESE!