Title: Haven't Changed
Author: drummerdancer
Verse: None
Characters/Pairings: Roy, implied Ed/female, implied Elicia/male, mentions of other(s)
Word Count: 500
Prompt 264: As I Am Now, So Shall You Be
Rating: K+
Summary: Roy knows he won't fail at this.


There was a knock at the door. Roy beckoned them in, his voice raspy as he reached a shaky limb out to cup his water glass.

"Mail, Mr. Roy."

Roy smiled and held out his other arm, this one attached to an IV. "Thank you, young lady. Anything good?"

She set aside the two or three flyers he'd gotten and handed him a thick envelope, messy with multiple stamps and handwritings decorated across its canvas. He took a sip of water, set the glass down, fumbled for his reading glasses, and squinted down at the package. A number of addresses had been written and then written over; Central City was one, Resembool another. He smiled, his lips cracking at the edges. The top of the envelope had already been cut open for him.

He nodded to the delivery girl, who smiled as she left, closing the door behind her. Roy then proceeded to upend the envelope, letting its contents fall on his blanketed legs.

Photographs. They'd sent him photographs.

Kids running around—in a backyard, by a lake, on a beach. Grins plastered on their faces, hair sticking to their foreheads as they chased each other, not a worry or care in sight. Mud on their knees, grass stains in their clothes, yes—

—these were definitely Ed's grandkids.

Roy smiled more, his upper lip rubbing against the plastic tube they had stuck in his nose. There had to be at least twenty of the little guys, each with their own trace of Elric branded in their looks and moves. He feared the schoolhouse that had to take them on—that teacher deserved one hell of a salary, that's for sure.

The photos underneath were clearer and of different children. A lot of them had green eyes, some even with black hair. One, in particular, had both—his name was Mathew and he'd been Elicia's fourth child if he remembered right. He was striking at age seven, a toy camera slung around his scrawny neck, but for Roy, it was for a different reason entirely.

I guess things really don't change, huh Maes. Looks like a little you lives on.

He choked a little, his breath sounding wheezy in his ears. Looks like Ed was right—I really am an old-timer now.

He shifted through more of the pictures, his bony fingers shaking. So many smiles, so many children, alive. Happy. Breathing.

Roy laid the pictures down and looked out his window. The nurses said he'd go back out there one day, but Roy knew it wasn't true. His bones were too old and brittle now; he doubted he'd ever again be off the tubes. But that was okay, because he was getting closer everyday to something he'd wanted even more for the last forty-three years—and he knew that this was something he wouldn't fail at.

A laugh from the friend he missed. You really haven't changed, Roy. Not in the slightest.

Roy smiled and closed his eyes.