Written for Day Four for Tumblr's FMA Week 2015

Discaimer: I wish I did wn FMA bit sadly I don't

Tuesday February 19th 1925

Roy Mustang:

Roy sat on the small bed in the corner of the grim and pokey cell and his gaze swept the room. The four grey brick walls made him feel a little claustrophobic. Since he had handed himself over to the new government to be tried, his days had been spent in the Central prison, his hands bound before him so he couldn't practice any alchemy. The air in the cell was stale and there was a musty smell permeating the room. He shivered, feeling the goose bumps erupt on the back of his arms. The ratty little blanket on his bed didn't provide much protection from the cold and it was difficult to sleep at night. Not that he would have been able to sleep either if it was warmer. Since he had been incarcerated, he hadn't gotten a proper nights' sleep, never getting more than two or three hours together. Still, he couldn't fault his jailers; he was given three decent meals a day, although he could barely stomach more than a mouthful at mealtimes. That morning's meal of bread and butter remained untouched on the floor beside his bed.

Things had moved a lot faster than he had anticipated. One thing he hadn't anticipated had been the lack of urgency in convicting anyone else. Several former state alchemists and high ranking military officials from Bradley's administration who'd served in Ishbal had fled the country; others had used their fat pay cheques to bribe officials. All he could do now was wait around for the inevitable, little to distract him from his fate in this solitude. The door to the cell opened and a familiar prison guard walked in. Bentley was a genial looking fellow, his face was round with blue eyes framed by glasses. The man always treated him humanely and brought him news from outside the confines of the prison, something that Roy was extremely grateful for.

"You have a visitor," Bentley announced with a smile.

Roy knew the man meant well, but he couldn't muster up a returning smile. He hadn't slept a wink since the trial and he was exhausted. There may not be much to do in the cell, but every time he closed his eyes, he saw the pained faces of the people he loved. He was already in a waking nightmare, he didn't need real ones too.

"Who is it?" he asked, wondering if he could put off the visitor. He really wasn't up to dealing with anybody right now.

"It's Madam Christmas," returned the guard. The guard's smile had disappeared now and he ran his hand through his greying hair. "I thought you would be glad to see her, but I can ask her to call another time if you wish."

"No need, Bentley," Roy said.

Bentley's anxious expression was replaced with relief.

"You don't know Madam Christmas do you?" Roy asked. "She doesn't take the word no seriously."

"She wanted to see you last night‚" Bentley explained. "The only way the warden could get her to leave was to promise that she could return first thing this morning. You're lucky he was willing to allow her visit you in your cell as there are no visitor rooms available this early in the day."

Roy nodded‚ "Send her in."

Bentley approached his bed. "Can we trust you not to do anything foolish if we let you have your hands unrestrained for this visit?"

Roy starred dumbly before bowing his head in acquiescence. His aunt really must have pulled out all the stops to get the warden to agree to this.

Roy froze as the guard freed his hands and squeezed his shoulder. "Let's just keep this between ourselves. I'm not really supposed to do this."

Surprised by the unexpected kindness, the alchemist looked up at the man, "Thank you."

Bentley simply inclined his head and smiled‚ "Just don't make me regret trusting you."

"I assure you I'm not about to make trouble."

Unable to look the man in the eye and see the pity that was there‚ Roy flexed his stiff arms moving his fingers one by one. He was normally restrained during the few, brief visits he had been granted, although he was generally allowed the use of his right hand only at meal times as long as he was supervised. The manacles were left on his feet, but he didn't care.

The guard picked up the breakfast plate Roy had snubbed. "Are you going to eat this?"

"I'm not hungry."

"Suit yourself‚" Bentley shrugged his shoulders. "I'll just let Madam Christmas in directly."

A few moments later, the cell door opened and Chris Mustang walked in. The door clanged shut behind her and her sorrowful eyes met his. She was wearing a black dress and her favourite fur coat. He was taken aback by the red rims around her eyes and seeing this strong woman hurting on his account made him squirm with guilt, but he was sure he was doing the right thing.

He stood up stiffly from the bed, "It's good to see you. Pity about the circumstances."

She ignored his pathetic attempt at a joke.

"You fool." She walked towards him and gave him an appraising look. "Look at you – you're as pale as a sheet and you're skin and bone. Are they not feeding you?"

He knew her fussing was more about his impending doom, but he played along just the same to a dance they were more familiar with.

"You know me, Madam. I've never been one for swallowing drivel. They're feeding me just fine. I just don't swallow much of it."

She arched a brow, "Roy Mustang – too good for prison cuisine – huh?"

"I learned from a certain someone to only accept the very best," he replied drily.

Instead of making her smile like he intended, he was rewarded with a watery chuckle, more tears than laughter.

Suddenly, she drew him into her arms and held him to her ample chest. "My Roy boy."

Not accustomed to physical affection from his aunt, his body went tense in her embrace for a moment before he surrendered to the comfort on offer. His heart swelled with love for the woman who raised him like he was her own son. He could smell her favourite brand of cigarette and expensive brandy on her breath as well as the spicy perfume she sprayed liberally on herself. Although, she wasn't exactly the maternal type, he never doubted that she cared for him in her own gruff way. However, she hadn't held him like this since he was a little boy, reeling from the loss of his parents and even then it had only been a few times. He couldn't prevent a treacherous tear from running down his cheek and it wasn't long before more joined it. He silently let the tears fall and trembled in her comforting embrace. He could count on one hand the amount of people he had let see him cry, completely vulnerable – Riza, Maes and the Madam. Never one to show weakness willingly, the only other time that his aunt had seen him in such a weakened state as an adult was after a particularly long bender following his return from Ishbal.

"You foolish boy," she said gruffly into his ear.

She loosened the embrace, put her hands on his shoulders and squeezed them tightly. She seemed to be searching his face for something. "You always put the betterment of Amestris above all else and now your country is using you as a scapegoat. I only hope they all rot in hell."

The words spoken with a vehemence he was unused to. It was always a shock to see the woman openly reveal her emotions even to him. As a boy‚ Chris Mustang had always taught him that not to give his innermost thoughts or emotions to anyone, guard them as he would his life, as they could be used against him. Instead, he learned how to cultivate a persona, hide his motivations and true ambitions.

"I knew this was always a possibility when I began this course. I learned many things in Ishbal that didn't sit right with me."

"And you learned things you didn't like about yourself."

"True," Roy replied bitterly, a grimace on his face. "I know what my alchemy can do, the destruction I'm capable of. I thought I was protecting the country; all I was doing was aiding in a mass genocide."

Truth be told, he found it difficult to look at his reflection in the mirror and still had nightmares about that time of his life, the blood that he shed.

"I wanted to make sure nothing like Ishbal ever would happen again‚" he said. "You know this! This time it's just my head on the chopping block, the team is safe and the country is now in the hands of the people."

"The same people clamouring to take your life, boy," she reminded him. "What makes you think the country is any better off? Power corrupts, and those in power will almost always stay in power at any cost. You're naive to think otherwise."

Though Roy really didn't want to argue with her, he couldn't help snapping, "What was I supposed to do? Would it have been better to let Bradley and the Homunculi stay in power and sit and watch thousands of people dying?"

"Don't be obtuse," she chastised, releasing her hands from his shoulders. "You know full well the part I'm talking about is letting yourself be the scape goat in a show trial."

Roy rubbed his temple, hoping to ease the tension headache that was beginning to build there. "Please, just stop."

This could be the last time he spent with her and he didn't want to spend the whole time arguing in circles. Her face softened and she grabbed his hand. She squeezed it so tight it hurt; he welcomed the pain, it was a reminder he was still alive for the moment.

"You need to see Miss Hawkeye," she said‚ abruptly changing the subject. "She told me you refused to see her before the trial."

"What?"

"You heard me Roy boy."

Closing his eyes, Roy sighed and turned away from her. "No – I don't want to see her. Not yet anyway."

He opened his eyes and glared at the wall. How could he explain that the very thought of seeing Riza again after his words in the courtroom filled him with dread. He never wanted to hurt her. He only ever wanted to spare her, but it always seemed like he could only cause her pain.

"Roy Mustang, look at me!"

Reluctantly, he turned back around to face her. She sighed and put her hand to his face.

"This isn't about you." She sighed and put her hand to his face. Her finger tips traced his jaw and he leaned into her hand. "Sometimes, you're so trapped in self-loathing that you can't see what's right in front of you. That woman loves you. You can't let your Riza down."

"She's not my Riza," he said.

"Try telling her that," she said, exasperated. "It's obvious how you both feel for one another."

Roy pulled back from her and crossed his arms. "Regardless of how we feel, we are what we are."

"She needs to see you, Roy. You owe her that much at least." When she spoke again it was gently. "You'll regret it if you don't."

He knew she was right, though he couldn't help but voice his unease. "What if she hates me?" What if she can't forgive me for leaving her behind?

She tutted disapprovingly and rolled her eyes, "That woman could never hate you. If she still loved you despite everything you've been through, what does that tell you?"

Mustang pressed a hand against his forehead. "I can't -"

"You'll never be ready to say goodbye." Her voice broke on the last word. "The pair of you are impossible, wasting all this time fighting your feelings as well as your enemies."

"It wasn't that simple, there's the matter of the fraternisation laws," he protested.

"Pah, excuses." She waved her hand. "And now it's too late." She fixed him with her most foreboding stare. "So, make sure you tell exactly what you feel, because this memory will be all she has left of you, and you don't want to spend your last moments berating yourself for being even more of an idiot than you already are."

The Madam had a way of grounding him despite the impossible situation he found himself in; she would always treat him like a child, chastising and scolding where she saw fit. Sometimes, it was all he needed, just to let somebody else take control and make the decisions. When you're the one in charge, lives hang in the balance based on the decisions that you make.

"You know I love you," he said, a lump gathering in his throat.

He bowed his head, even now unable to look her in the eye.

To his surprise he felt his fringe being brushed aside and a soft kiss to his temple, "I'm proud of you, kid."

Roy would be lying if he said he wasn't afraid but he had made his peace with death. He had done terrible things, made foolish decisions and killed so many innocents. He didn't deserve to live after all that. Yet, he still hadn't made peace with the hurt he was causing to those who loved him. If there was one regret he had, it was that.

There was a creaking of the cell door and Bentley's head popped in. "I'm afraid I've to ask you to leave now‚ Madam."

The glare that his aunt gave the man was enough to make milk curdle.

Bentley sighed, "I'll give you another moment."

"Remember to see her, Roy." She put her hand on her nephew's shoulder and squeezed it painfully.

"Promise me."

He nodded.

"Good boy." She looked at him for a moment before embracing him again.

Roy squeezed her back tightly. They stayed like that until a little cough from the door from Bentley, who had entered again unbeknownst to them and they parted reluctantly.

"I'll have to restrain you again." Bentley sounded almost apologetic.

The Madam scowled at the guard, but stepped away from her nephew. Roy knew the man had done as much as he could and allowed Bentley to tie his hands. Roy noticed the Madam's mouth twist a little at the scene, but she kept a stoic expression.

"Let me escort you out, Madam," Bentley said politely.

She glared at the man, before turning to Roy with a softer look in her eyes.

She turned to leave without another word and Bentley followed.

Suddenly, she stopped at the door, but she didn't turn around. "I love you too, Roy boy."

She didn't have to say the words for him to know how she felt, but it was nice to hear them all the same.

Edward Elric

Edward Elric's hands were balled into fists. He wasn't sure why he bothered to read the newspaper. He knew what it was going to say: "Mustang sentenced to death. Execution planned for Friday". Reporters had been calling his phone over the past week looking for a soundbite from the famed Fullmetal Alchemist. Ed wondered if he should have given them what they wanted and be the one to speak out in defence of the bastard. That sanctimonious prick was too arrogant to fight for his life despite all the pain it was causing. It served no purpose whatsoever other than his desire to kill himself, everyone else be damned. But the bastard always did what he wanted to do. Not that Edward cared of course. He couldn't care less about the arrogant son of a bitch.

"Sparky Bastard!"

"Language, Ed. Not in front of the kids." Winry had just walked into the kitchen with their two little imps following behind.

"Sorry," he muttered, feeling anything but.

Winry shook her head‚ "Why do I put up with you?"

"We make beautiful children."

Winry snorted and smacked him on the head with a tea towel.

His two favourite little people sat at either side of him. "Morning, Daddy!"

The two impish grins on their faces caused a smile to tug at his lips and he was struck at how lucky he was. His wife placed two bowls of porridge in front of the kids and Ed watched in fascination and a strange nostalgia as the two siblings gulped down their food.

"You sure are Elrics!" he said proudly.

The rolling eyes he got in response reminded him they had Rockbell blood too even though their little boy Urey and girl Trisha had both inherited his golden eyes.

Little Urey fixed his big eyes on his parents. "Can we go play when we're done with breakfast?"

Edward always found it hard to say no to that face and let Winry answer for them both.

"Sure," she said. "Once your chores are done."

"Thanks Mommy‚" the kids replied in unison.

Edward watched as the two kids got up from the table and headed off to begin their chores.

Winry waited for the door to close behind the kids before she turned her attention back to her husband. "Seriously Ed – Sparky?"

Edward's gaze went back to the front page of the paper and his good mood evaporated.

"When the shoe fits," he said acidly. "Can't call him Colonel or General Bastard anymore. What else am I supposed to call him?"

"You could try his actual name. He does have one you know." Winry sighed at the newspaper spread out on the table in front of him, "Why are you even reading that trash? It's only going to upset you."

He ignored Winry's concerned gaze. "I'm not upset!"

She sat down at the table beside him and handed him a cup of warm tea. He took the cup gratefully and took a cautious sip. Winry's eyes flickered to the picture of Mustang on the front page of the newspaper once more and she opened her mouth as if to speak.

Edward was quicker. "I know what you're going to say and there's no way I'm going."

The whole charade stunk to high heaven and he wanted no part of this sorry story. No matter how many times he told his wife why, she gave him the look of a long suffering martyr. He hated that look; it reminded him that his wife knew him better than he liked and was sure that he was doing the wrong thing. Her gaze went to the window, where she could see the kids doing their chores. Satisfied they were out of earshot, she turned back to him.

"Ed, stop pretending you don't care," Winry said gently. He could see the clenching in her jaw and he knew she was trying her best not to lose her temper.

He crossed his arms defensively, "I'm not pretending anything. I'm fucking angry."

She sighed, "Of course, you're angry, we're all angry. Roy is important to a lot of people."

Edward knew Winry well enough to know what his wife was up to, but he couldn't resist the bait. "I don't want the bastard to die, but I wouldn't go as far as to say he was important to me."

Winry wore a knowing smile, "Yes, Ed, keep lying to yourself."

He glared at his wife, "I'm not lying to myself."

She smiled at him and raised an eyebrow, "What was it you were saying last night in your dreams?"

"I don't dream about that bastard," Ed said, a little too quickly, his words and tone betraying him. He knew he had just admitted to something he would rather she didn't know. But then it was Winry and she knew along with Al knew all of his secrets and loved him anyway.

"Aha!" She pointed a victorious finger at him. "You admit you dreamed about him last night."

Edward supressed a shudder, "You do realise how wrong that sounds?"

Her nose crinkled in confusion for a moment before she erupted into giggles and her laughter was contagious causing Ed's mouth to quirk upward. The lighter moment didn't last very long and the giggles tapered off leaving the young couple in silence.

"I just wish he'd do something, Win. It's not like it would be difficult to mount a rescue effort or for him to escape himself. Why is he giving in so easy?"

"I hardly call this way easy," she said. "I think he has a lot of demons from the war in Ishbal and he probably thinks this is some sort of equivalent exchange or something."

She punctuated the last few words with an eye roll.

Edward smiled again despite himself, Winry was cute when she tried to understand alchemy but the gear head never got it right. "Winry, that's not equivalent exchange."

She shrugged, "Yeah well, you alchemy freaks are confusing. Anyway, you know what I mean. This was always in the offing from when he abolished the State Alchemist programme and gave power to the Parliament. He had to know this was a possibility."

Edward thought back to the conversation he had once had with Riza Hawkeye‚ where she had laid out their pans and acceptance that it could one day mean their deaths at the hands of the new democracy.

"Are you saying he's right?"

"No," she replied with a hurt expression. "Of course not."

"Sorry Win," he said quickly before she could brandish her wrench.

"I know, idiot!" She walked around the table and wrapped her arms around him and he nuzzled into her neck as he wrapped his arms around her.

"I love you too," he said, winding a lock of her blond hair around one of his fingers. He was so lucky to have this amazing woman in his life. He held onto her a little tighter thinking of all the times that they could have lost one another. "You're the best thing that ever happened to me, you know that, right?"

She pulled back a little in his embrace and looked up into his face as if trying to read what was on his mind. "Of course I do." She kissed him softly on the cheek. "And you know you're best thing that happened to me too."

He nodded and gave her a forced smile. "Can I ask you something? You're a woman-"

"Glad you noticed, Ed."

He rolled his eyes, "Let me finish! You've probably much better at this sort of thing than me."

"Quit rambling," she said. "Out with it."

"That's what I'm trying to do." He bit his lip, "Do you think Mustang and Hawkeye are involved?"

Winry shrugged, "I don't know that they have been breaking the fraternisation rules or anything, but I think anyone that knows them can see how much they love one another."

That was what he thought too. "I'm worried about Hawkeye‚ he confessed. "The last time she thought he was dead, she stopped fighting and nearly let Lust kill her. I'm afraid that she won't be able to come back from this. When I think of how I'd feel in her position…"

"Don't even said it!" Winry flinched and closed her eyes.

"And he makes so angry. If he cares for her, then why isn't he doing his utmost to get out of the situation? I know if he wanted to, he probably could. The fool even signed away his right to diplomatic immunity."

"He's got a lot demons, Ed. You know what he did in Ishbal, that's gotta weigh him down. I've gotten to know Hawkeye - well as much as you can know a really private person- and she's equally messed up over the past. I asked her about Ishbal once saying I needed to know more about the war my parents got killed in and she agreed I had the right to know."

Winry gazed into space as if she was remembering some of the horrors that had been recounted to her. "She never held back and she told me how she still has nightmares about those days, all of the veterans do. His sins have to be much harder on him given the level of death he was able to cause."

"You're saying he's suicidal?"

"No – but I'm sure he believes that he deserves to be judged by the people of Amestris and he trusts that he deserves whatever punishment he is given. It's not the same thing."

"It's the same result." And he might as well, shoot Hawkeye in the head with him. He knew Winry wouldn't thank him to hear him say those words and he didn't want to hear her defend the bastard anymore. He was just like Hohenheim, running away from happiness when it was in reach.

Winry had other ideas, "You're being unfair. What do you expect him to do? The verdict's been given and if he runs he'll be running for the rest of his life. What sort of life is that?"

"At least he'd be alive."

"Maybe? Or he could get shot anyway escaping?" She looked at him meaningfully. "Or some idiot helping him could get killed? And if he did escape, what a lonely life it would be? He's too well known to be able to slip into the general population."

Edward gritted his teeth, "Why do you always have to be so reasonable?"

"Because someone has to keep you on the straight and narrow. I know you've been thinking about doing something stupid. You have responsibilities now. The kids have got to come first."

Edward glared at his wife heatedly, "I wasn't!"

She fingered the wrench in her apron pocket. "Don't tell me it never crossed your mind?"

"Okay, maybe it did briefly. I never really considered it."

She removed her hand from her pocket and Ed sighed in relief.

"Ed," she said firmly, "I think you should go and see him."

"What?" he spluttered. "Are you touched? Why in the hell would I want to go and see that good for nothing bastard?"

He knew Winry knew him too well to believe he didn't care, but she played along anyway. "I think he'd like to see you. I don't think he's been allowed many visitors. You're the Fullmetal Alchemist, the Hero of Central; they'd let you in to see him."

"I wish you wouldn't call me that. I'm not an alchemist anymore."

"Maybe not in body, but you'll always be an alchemist in your heart," she pointed out. "I mean you used equivalent exchange in your marriage proposal after all."

Edward's indignation quickly faded at that remark and his lip twitched. "You'll never let me live that down will you?"

She shook her head, "Not a chance, Ed."

Later that day

Edward slammed the door shut behind him as he walked into the visitors' room. Mustang was sitting at a table in the middle of the room. The room was large‚ but there were no other prisoners in the room. He raised an eyebrow. Even when he was facing death, the fool was still throwing his weight around. Edward walked right up to Mustang's chair and before the older alchemist knew what happened‚ he clocked him on the right side of his jaw with his fist.

"Mustang, you stupid bastard. You fucking cowardly asshole."

Mustang starred in shock at him for moment.

"What the hell, Fullmetal?" he asked finally. "How brave of you to punch a bound man?"

"Don't call me Fullmetal!" Edward snapped.

Out of the corner of his eye, the prison guards stepped away from the door. "We don't tolerate any brutality in this prison, Mr. Elric even for the Monster of Ishbal," said one of the guards before they took their places next the door.

Mustang paid no attention to the guards, concentrating on his former subordinate instead.

He rolled his eyes, "What the hell, Edward? Oh yeah – you're not a hot shot alchemist anymore. Does it make you feel better to slug a man that can't defend himself?"

Mustang spoke his name mockingly. Even though Edward knew he was trying to goad him, he couldn't help the surge of anger. The bastard knew how to press his buttons and he was angry enough about the situation anyway to bite his tongue.

"I don't care if you're bound, you deserve it," the younger man said just about managing to keep an even tone. "You're an idiot and I don't believe in mollycoddling idiots." Edward took a deep breath trying to calm himself. "I guess I learned that from you."

"Out with it, Edward. I don't have all the time in the world anymore."

The joke fell flat and Edward glared at Mustang. "Don't make jokes about this. Don't you understand? You're going to die."

"I understand more than you," Mustang said in a low voice. "You forget yourself. We have company in case you haven't noticed."

"Don't you care about what this is going to do to your friends, to Hawkeye?"

"Of course, I care," Mustang spat.

"Show it then," Edward challenged him. "Break you out of here. You know we could help you do it. You've seen what we can do when we put our minds to it."

"Don't be foolish. What would that accomplish? You could get caught and your children would have no father. I've enough fatherless children on my conscience besides adding your brood to it. Besides, even if I did manage to escape, Winry would probably murder me for letting you risk your life for me."

Edward highly doubted that, she would be more likely to murder her own husband for ripping their family apart. He felt a little guilty at going behind her back after when he told her that morning. But just because, he was talking Mustang into it didn't mean he would have to be the one to break him out anyway.

"Just leave it Edward! Concentrate on your wife and children. It's over and been decided."

"I don't like to see injustice being done‚" Edward protested.

Mustang laughed, a cold laugh that made Edward shiver involuntarily. "Injustice! You've got to me kidding me."

His dark eyes bored into Ed's golden ones with an intensity that Ed had never seen from the older man before. "You don't know, Edward. You're too noble to bend to the will of evil. I let myself be used as human weapon."

Mustang closed his eyes and when he opened them again the intensity was gone and replaced by a deadened, unfocused look.

"You didn't see the burnt remains of children and women charred beyond recognition," Mustang continued. "You never met the real Flame Alchemist; you've no idea what I'm capable of and the horrors I committed in the name of the military. Don't defend the indefensible."

Edward was speechless, he didn't know what to say, which was exactly what Mustang wanted, he knew.

Shoulders slumped, Mustang's gaze went to the floor, "There were times when I was drunk on the power until I went up close and saw what that power could do. The smell of burning flesh, the shrieks of those in their death throes."

Edward's stomach curdled. He knew all this already, he'd read the reports, watched most of trial, but to hear Roy talk in this way, the self-revulsion in his voice, was painful.

"The fact that you care is what makes you human."

Mustang didn't even acknowledge his words. He looked Edward straight in the eye once more, "You never forget. I see it every night, every day and I got off easy. I'm a monster; don't forget it, and don't waste your time on trying to rescue me."

The man's tone was tired and Edward didn't think he had ever seen the bastard look so broken. He shoved down the pity that was threatening to escape and concentrated on his anger at the man.

"That's bullshit," he roared. "What about what we've doing over the last few years, the rehabilitation of Ishbal and the fact that you finally managed to change Amestris into a democracy? Are you telling me all of that was nothing?"

"What do you mean? Of course, it wasn't for nothing. Any soul I could save was important to me considering those that I destroyed." Mustang looked down at the floor again. "But I've immolated much more people than I ever managed to save. I wrote my death sentence in Ishbal. Knowing there was something to achieve and a way to make amends kept me alive. I got where I wanted to go and now well I can die knowing Amestris is a better place."

"You're ready to die?" Edward asked incredulously.

Mustang shook his head, "Of course, I'm not. Still‚ I wanted to be tried for my crimes and face retribution. I'm not going to be a coward and spend the rest of my life on the run. What sort of a half-life is that?"

"Well, it's a hell of a lot better than no life."

"That's where we beg to differ, Fullmetal."

He let the old nickname go and he bored his eyes into his former commanding officers, "What about Hawkeye? Surely, you could put up with a half-life for her."

He could see a flicker of something in the man's eyes. Maybe he was finally getting through to the bastard?

"You don't understand." The older man shook his head, "You're so noble; everything's black and white for you. You still think like a child."

The words stung. Is that really what he thought of him after all those years or was simply lashing out? It was always hard to tell with him.

"And you're still an arrogant bastard," Edward spat. "You might be willing to die, Mustang, but that doesn't make it suddenly okay. What about all those you'll be leaving behind?"

What about me? Edward shoved away the treacherous thought wondering where it came from. I don't need him. What did he ever do for me besides point me at danger?

Edward's fingers trembled and he made a fist to stop the tremors. "You're just like Hohenheim, running away when the going gets tough, pretending it's all for the great good."

You're going to destroy Riza, just like he destroyed Mom.

"You make it all sound so simple," Mustang said quietly. "You're a good man; you could never understand the depravity of humanity. The lows I sunk to can never be scrubbed clean. So many lives gone because I was too afraid to walk away from the military." He locked eyes with the younger man. "So – yes, I'm a coward."

"I'm so sick of listening to you wallowing in self-pity."

"And I'm sick of listening to you full stop."

The two men glared at one another.

Edward was surprised when Mustang was the first to back down and break the gaze.

Mustang sighed heavily. "What do you want me to say, Edward? I'm not going to change my mind."

He sounded tired and defeated, the fire in his eyes quenching as quickly as it came.

"You're an idiot."

"What makes me so special? You hated Scar for all his crimes. And I killed more than Scar ever did."

"I hate you too," Edward pointed out.

Mustang ignored him and continued, "And yet, you act as if I never had a choice. You always have a choice and I chose wrong."

"Scar killed out of revenge and hate. He got a perverse joy out of it."

"What makes you so sure that I didn't?"

"You've this haunted look in your eyes. You're good at hiding your emotions, but the eyes never lie. You think I don't know, but I can see that you carry that guilt with you. And you've been fighting for at least as long as I've known you to make Amestris a better place."

"When I got out of Ishbal, I swore I would make sure nothing like that war would ever happen again, but I still killed. I swore I'd make it to the top and make Amestris a democracy. A democracy gives a voice to the people and the people have decided my fate."

Edward rolled his eyes, "And what purpose does that serve?"

"Purpose?" His chuckle was a dark one. "I served my purpose the moment the country became a democracy. Now, I've got to pay the price. Equivalent exchange I guess."

"Are you really as cold hearted as that? You'd sacrifice everything for those that are already dead. There's nobody that will thank you."

"I can't do anything for those innocents whose lives I've taken," Mustang said softly. "I've been living on borrowed time since Ishbal. I always knew it would come to this and I'm not going to run away from repaying my crimes because it's the easier thing to do."

Edward shook his head disbelievingly, "Easier? I think you're running away from your guilt and instead of doing something productive with your guilt, you're wallowing in it instead."

Edward remembered that moment back on the Promised Day when the man was so overcome by rage and revenge that he almost lost himself in the pursuit of Envy. Hawkeye had pulled him back then, told him she would shoot him in the head and then put a bullet in her own.

There was a tic in the older man's jaw and Edward knew the man was fighting to keep his temper in check. He felt a perverse surge of satisfaction at the thought of getting under the man's skin.

Still, despite the danger signs, Edward continued, "The only person that has any hope of talking sense into you is Hawkeye. And she won't, because you two have a doomed masochistic romance going on."

"Fullmetal, shut the hell up," Mustang snapped. "Don't talk about her like that? Say what you like about me, but I won't have you accusing her of such things."

"Try and stop me! You're all bound, remember?" Edward glared at his former commander relishing the flash of anger in the man's eyes. Yeah – you're not dead yet, bastard. He jabbed a finger in his chest, "You're an idiot, and you're being selfish doing this. You and Hawkeye both have guilt issues the size of Father's god complex."

"We've a lot to be sorry for," Mustang said. "We swore we'd make things right, but there are some evils so great that all the good deeds in the world can't make up for."

"Nobody will benefit from this. Not Amestris and especially not Hawkeye." Edward softened his tone, hoping one more time to get through to the idiot. "She loves you. I don't know why, but she does. You're throwing her life away as well as your own you know. She'll never get over this."

"Don't!" He looked like a wounded animal as his face contorted in pain. "You don't know anything about my relationship with Riza."

Mustang turned in seat so that he had his back to Edward and the younger man knew he had pushed the man too far. The older man's shoulders trembled and Edward knew he had to get out of there. He couldn't watch the man in such a vulnerable state; it would seem indecent somehow.

"I've gotta go," the former alchemist mumbled, turning his back on the older man and scrambled out the door into the corridor. He couldn't look back even though he knew it was probably the last time he would ever see the man. He wanted to remember as the proud man he was once not the broken shell he had encountered in the prison. His head felt like it was about to split open and to his horror, he could feel heat gathering in the corners of his eyes. He found the rest room which was thankfully unoccupied and squeezed into a cubicle. He sat on the toilet seat and leaned his head on the cistern hoping the cool surface would help with his headache. Mustang had always been there as much as he has despised the man. Edward had always known that he could rely on the man to do the right thing. In the end though he was walking away like Hohenheim did so many years ago. Mustang was throwing his life away, and there were going to be so many broken by this. There was no point, it was suicide by firing squad. For what cause other than his piece of mind. Stupid bastard. There were still those who sought to use power to benefit themselves, terrorists that wanted to tear the state down and corruption in the military. Amestris still needed good men like Mustang. He wanted the smash that supercilious face in, beat some sense into the fool and howl at the injustice being done. Edward slammed his fist into the wall and his eyes watered. It was the pain caused by the impact not the idea of losing the man, who was the closest he had to a father figure. Of course, he'd never cry about that bastard. The tears Edward had been fighting against finally won the battle and he let them fall.

T be cntinued