A/N: Morning, sunshines! New chapter as the story is moving on. It's shorter than usual, but I felt it was the best moment to end where I've left it. A combination of violence and fluff is the warning for this chapter, and, as usual, I don't own anything besides the plot and the invented characters, that is. Thank you very much for reading and please don't forget to leave a review/follow/favourite. I hope you'll enjoy!

P.S: Thank you very much BlueIsTheColourOfOurPlanet for pointing out my mistake when I wrote Roy's rank, I changed it right now. It felt so natural I totally didn't notice, heh :)

On with the show...

Chapter 11 – Welcome to the Family

Edward looked up, his heart stopping for a second. The eyes he saw were disturbing, so big and bloodshot, pure adrenaline rushing through them. They were the eyes of a mad man, a psychopath, someone he didn't want to see.

And they looked excruciatingly familiar.

Telford was taken aback by the one he found on the bed. He didn't expect to see Roy's little pet, he had been so sure that it was his nephew's room. Perhaps they had moved him? He had been too preoccupied with the guards' movements and schedule to check if the officer was still in his room or even in the hospital at all.

However, it was not that bad. He could easily kill the fragile boy or, perhaps smarter, he could use him against Roy and get to them both faster.

He looked at the boy's face. It looked drained and pale, still sick after the long convalescence, but there was a fire he could not explain in those burning sunny eyes. They were so passionate and full of anger, he quite understood what Roy saw in the kid. Quite feisty, he had to be. Maybe it was safer to keep the blond for a while before any other actions - his nephew might move mountains for him. If so, he could become anytime the river that divided them.

Ed blinked hard, his eyes stinging. He grabbed the first thing he could reach and pushed it against Telford's torso with a force he doubted he could have mustered under normal circumstances.

XXXXX

Roy opened the door forcefully, making it fly sideways. He stumbled on his own feet, but he got up fast. It was surprisingly dark, the only light being made by a small beeping machine he didn't know what was used for.

He felt he had turned deaf. He could not even hear his own breath, only the blood pooling in his ears, boiling and popping inside his head. However, praise his regained vision, the image on the floor was one to behold – Telford Mustang, the alchemist without licence known as River, was on his knees in front of Edward. It was so pure and vile and disturbingly beautiful, like the very image of sin, the tiny trickles of blood colouring a monochrome canvas.

Telford fell backwards, clutching at his chest. Edward rose to his feet and cleaned his face of the blood that poured from his nose. The bastard punched him hard, didn't he? He stumped, a look of sheer confusion plastered on his young face. But it passed quick enough, and was replaced by an inhuman determination.

Telford was panting hard. It hurt so bad... he looked down at his torso. A long and rigid needle, a bloody sodium hydroxyl supply needle, was painfully inserted very close to his heart and has most likely pierced his left lung. The liquid was still flowing through the canal, and it has probably entered his system as well.

With lots of effort, he created some strings that separated him momentarily from Edward. The younger man simply clapped his hands and cut the thin ice that poorly attempted to hurt him. He transformed his automail arm in his signature blade and pushed forward.

So much for surprise attacks in hospitals.

XXXXX

Eight years before, on the East warfront

Roy looked at the scared man that was weakly pointing an empty gun at him. No, what was in front of him was no man, he couldn't be older than fifteen years old. The boy was shielding a small child, about five years old. His skin was black like the night and his eyes were red like the fire and he was trembling. He was shaking in his boots, or, better phrased, on his toes. He was barefoot, and his clothes were ragged and dirty.

However, what he saw in those crimson orbs was mortifying rage, anger, hatred. All for him.

Closing his eyes, Roy snapped his fingers. He couldn't watch, he couldn't dare to see, the sound and smell was too much for him anyway.

"Having fun, Mustang?" Kimblee shouted, laughing maniacally at the sight of the carnage.

Yes. Fun, wasn't it? 'Much fun,' Roy thought as he removed himself from the scene at a storming pace, not being able to feel his damn feet moving.

...

Back inside his tent, the raven alchemist changed his filthy shirt. He threw it aside like something unholy. He fell on the hard ground, curled up in a ball. He clenched his arms around his legs, painfully crushing his bones. No pain was enough to compensate for what he had done. Numbness overwhelmed him as he let go of his aching members.

Roy was shivering badly. It was his first year on the front, and he could swear it would not be his last. That foolish war was not going to end anytime soon, and his job was, to put it simply, morbid. He hasn't signed up for this. He enrolled to help the people, not to kill them. And definitely not children.

That little boy who was hiding behind his brother, he looked so much like him when he had been younger. Not physically, of course, Roy was as white as paper and his hair was as black as ink, but the age matched up perfectly. It was like when he had hidden behind his aunt, looking at his burning house.

Why did it have to be fire? It was fire that ruined his house, it was fire that stole away that little reminder of his parents, it was fire that he used to kill.

That beautiful fire that warmed him during the harsh winter, his favourite season. The wonderful fire that lit up the candles he blew on his birthdays. The marvellous fire that played in the fireplace when his mother read him those old stories about fairies and witches and his father told him about kings and queens from far away kingdoms.

He wanted to cry, but no tears fell on his petrified skin. He grabbed his pocket watch and opened it. He stared at the small picture of his mother and father, smiling at him, at their wedding so long ago... He started laughing. That day, it should have been- what, their twenty-forth marriage anniversary? Twenty-fifth? Heh, that was funny. He didn't even remember when his parents got married. He'd heard the story when he had little, but with no one to celebrate it, he had forgotten.

"Thank you, Uncle," he said between nervous chuckles. "You've gave me more reasons for this damned life than I ever asked for."

'And one is the reason to kill innocent people to prepare for you,' he wanted to say, but his laughter made him voiceless.

It was all a monstrous lie. What he was doing, it was unforgivable. He hated himself for all the horrid crimes he had to commit. Nonetheless, he was going to be the one to kill Telford. It was his right. Indeed, he was no better than the one who stole away his childhood, but this was his toll for staining his hands with so much undeserving blood. Equivalent exchange, that was it, and he was going to take his share for what he'd paid. He made him a murderer without his consent. It was his fault.

'Everything at its time,' he thought and pulled up his reactive-cloth gloves. The alarm was being rung in the camp. It was time for another massacre, and the Flame couldn't do anything but obey the lullaby of his orders.

He wished he had another choice.

XXXXX

Roy rushed forward and pushed Edward aside. They both fell on their backs. Given the opportunity, Telford pulled out the needle and coughed some more. He shakily rose to his feet and threw the closest objects at the two other alchemists. Roy dodged what seemed to be a nightstand clock and yanked Edward, bringing him to the floor. The boy shivered and his abdomen started aching again, holding him docile, sprawled on the concrete floor.

The raven alchemist broke through the light defence he got from his uncle. The man was weak, the liquid that has been inserted in his lungs was making his breathing hard and was slowly poisoning him. He threw icicles aimlessly, not really seeing where he was pointing them, dragging himself on the floor as he was.

Edward got a better hold of his body and slowly pushed himself up. He disconnected all the needles in his arms and roamed his eyes through the room until he found his lover's back. Like a cat, he jumped to catch Roy's hand and unclench his fingers that were clearly preparing to ignite the air surrounding them. The man once again smashed him to the cold floor and straightened himself.

"No, no, Mustang, stop this nonsense! Roy!" Ed said louder than he thought he could. It was really impressive what desperate situations were able to get out of one person. But Roy didn't listen, didn't turn to look at his mortified partner. All he could see and hear was his panting uncle, who was looking mockingly at him.

But he was shaking. Oh, he was shaking.

"Yes, Roy, do what he says... you are so like your father, even when I killed him, he was still pondering hitting me," Telford purred. He saw the chance to escape, and he was prepared to take it, but he needed to wait a bit for it. "Roy, you are not going to kill me, you can't. I am your family, after all, and you don't harm family. Remember what the old man said."

At that, the younger Mustang regained his confidence. "You make me laugh! You are not my family, you are nothing. You made sure to prevent me from having any family. Or almost, bless Chris for being around. I am sure Aunt will love your grave's design, I will personally tend to it."

Telford's eyes went wide. Desperately, he plunged sideways, trying to avoid the attack. Roy kicked him hard and immobilised him. Behind, Edward was shouting for him to stop, to let the justice take care of him, not to stain his hands...

But they were already stained.

"Roy, you know you can't... you can't kill me..." Telford struggled to make some new strings, to hurt Roy even the tiniest bit. "You ca-"

Like it mattered. For once in his life, Roy was fully prepared. "Watch me. Watch me do what you've made out me. Hell, I don't even need to say goodbye."

And then, Roy snapped his bare fingers more enthusiastically than he has ever did in his entire existence.

XXXXX

Ten minutes before, in Hawkeye's assigned studio

"What's taking him so long... come on, Roy...," Riza fretted, wrapping the phone cable around her index finger. Why was it so damn hard to catch a bloody crook who was like, what – fifty years old? What a stupid situation to waste such precious time on, Hawkeye concluded and insisted at the same phone number. "Come on! Damn iit!"

She slammed both her hands on the cheap wooden desk. Black Hayate yelped and jumped off the chair he was resting on. Hawkeye dialled another number.

"Yes?"

"Grandpa, time to wake up," she said and slammed the receiver back in its cradle. Time to overcome the unlikely scenario.

Hopefully, it was still unlikely.

...

Less than twenty minutes before, the same location

"What are you saying? Major General, are you sure?" the blond Lieutenant asked, chewing nervously on her lip.

"I'm an Armstrong, I know my facts, mind you! My men told me precisely his location and sent some others, but those dumb pricks have lost him. Kind of useless, but that's all we've got now," the other end spoke. 'Come on, Olivier, think, think,' the Northern officer encouraged herself to make the better of the information she was passing on.

"What was his last known location?"

"That is the bit you're not going to like."

Hearing the news, Riza needed to take a sit.

XXXXX

Roy snapped his fingers. The fire suddenly erupted. It was so colourful, so warm, so beautiful. So... perfect? Yes, revenge, the most idealistic purpose of living, the most intelligent and, at the same time, foolish motive for killing.

Foolish reason, like the place they were, the moment, everything that was happening.

So much foolishness.

Edward covered his face with his hands, a stifled scream chocking him. It smelled horribly of burnt grease, perhaps of stew...? The same Pinako made him and his brother when they were visiting her in Resembool. Oh, but it was not Resembool in there. Though it looked atrociously close to his former home. The one they had burnt down.

Roy lost his footing and his legs gave out, his knees hitting the floor. He couldn't separate his fingers, the lingering touch of fire preventing him from getting out of his trance. He snapped, again and again, shaking and nearly crying, just with the sole purpose of dismissing his uncle. Or more like burning the wall, really, because there was nothing else left of the man.

He stopped and looked at his work of art. The once pristine wall, painted in light green, has become a big black hole with a pile of crumbles at its front. Only a few bits remained of what used to be the person he despised the most in his whole damned course of life. A finger there, a part of a leg there, a sleeve there. The human shape was faint, but it was unmistakably of a man, tall and with broad shoulders. What a mess.

Suddenly, Roy started laughing. He dropped on his back and laughed, whole heartedly. He wanted so much to cry, but there was only laughter.

"Damn you, Telford! Damn you! Argh, it's too much!" he screamed. "Look what you've made me do, damn you a million times! Damn you!" he repeated, bowing and thumping the floor with his fists. From the front of the door, or what has remained of it, Roy looked like a psychopath out of the straightjacket. The poor mad man.

Edward looked at the broken man before his eyes. He didn't notice the personnel that came to check on the source of the noise. Closely behind, with a clenching fist, Olivier Armstrong covered her mouth and gulped at the smell, Miles silently towering her from behind, lost in the memories of the distant Civil War that destroyed his kin. They all stared, unfocused, at the spectacle of death playing right in front of their faces.

Roy crawled to the corpse. He touched the ash with his bare fingers, feeling its remaining warmness. That was what he's wanted to do throughout his entire life, right? That was his reason, his purpose, his resolve.

Now, he had fulfilled it. He was a man... with no reason. No purpose. No resolve.

Useless.

Nailed it again, hasn't he?

He took the necklace around the corpse's carbonised neck. It was the necklace Telford had received when he had turned eighteen from his mother, on which he carved the water alchemy symbols. It was the only thing he hasn't burnt in his rage. The source of his power. Of his foolish revenge. And the source of Roy's mistake.

The last who entered to assist at the morbid scene was Hawkeye, who clutched at her stomach. "Oh, no..."

Then the Fuhrer came.

XXXXX

Chris Mustang polished the last glass on the counter. Despite the many customers who were still drinking at their tables, she enjoyed cleaning spotlessly every corner of her bar at any moment of the day. Her clients ought to have the best services no matter the hour, social status or wealth. She was the best hostess and she has deemed to keep up her reputation.

"Good evening, Ma'am," a blond man said, plucking a cigarette between his lips. "Do you have a lighter?"

She smiled and feathery released the glass on the clean mahogany counter. Only the best in her bar, that was her motto. "For you, Jean, always," she said and opened her metallic lighter. "Have a sit, dear boy. Want anything?"

"The usual, Ma'am."

"Of course," she replied and gave him his black beer. The best in the whole region, specially brewed for her. Oh, her wonderful bar.

"How come you're alone in here? I thought you'd come with the hawk, you two seem quite close, I'd dare say, Jean," Chris winked and smiled all-knowingly.

"Neah, she's trying to unpack the last boxes from the previous headquarters. It makes me kind of happy that I didn't have too much to pack, I mean, poor her, she has been unpacking for years."

"Yes, lucky you. So, tell me-" she paused to light her own floral cigarette "-have you seen my stupid kid lately?"

Havoc chuckled. Stupid kid indeed, Roy would be one of the few absurdly high ranked officers who could act so dedicated during missions that he actually went on the field. With his head forward, at that.

"Yes, yesterday. He's in low spirits and still blames himself for hurting the chief. He really cares about Ed, you know."

"Yes, yes... well, can't blame him. I like the kid, too. Kind of fiery and unpredictable. I hope they won't get themselves killed. It would be such a shame," Chris made sourly.

"That's why we are here, Ma'am!" He took another sip and palpated his chest. "Ah, what's now?" he mumbled and got out the little alchemically-modified device he held in his breast pocket. "I'm so sorry, Ma'am, but duty calls at worst moments. Thanks for the beer, as usual," he said and reached to pay for the half-empty drink, but his hand was waved off.

"My best regards, Sir," she smirked and disappeared behind the counter. Havoc took his hat and left the heat of the bar.

XXXXX

"Yes, there is fine," Havoc said to the driver and jumped off the car. He arranged his scarf and entered the coldness of that winter night. He shivered - what did Hawkeye want with him at that hour, when she was supposed to unpack things at her place? Whatever it was, he has almost reached the door of the hospital. The beeping alchemy-controlled screen of the device indicated his destination. He had no idea how that devilish device worked, but again, he didn't know much about technology anyway.

What he found at his destination was not exactly what he'd expected. The reception was conspicuously quiet, there were no doctors doing their night shifts, no nurses running from a room to another, no patients complaining and the air was stiff. The little breeze came from the door behind Havoc. He waited for the receptionist to tell him to close the door, but the woman behind the white and blue counter smiled poorly at him and turned to her paperwork.

Trying and, as a matter of fact, failing miserably, Jean walked as relaxed as he could have to the long staircase on the right. He opened the door that separated the ground floor from the stair exit and–

And he fell on his back, Hawkeye landing on him with all her might and strength.

"Argh, Hawk, easy," he said and lifted her up from him. He looked at the blonde officer with a beaming smile that disappeared when he made note of her lost look. Her face was petrified. "Hey, Riza, are you okay? Why did you call?"

"Follow me, we have work to do," she said simply and walked past him. Shrugging, Havoc fallowed her back in the coldness of the night.

It has started snowing again. What was with all that damned snow?

XXXXX

Roy stared forward, looking through Grumman. He was blinking fast, not being able to focus on a single object. Breathing deeply, he rose to his feet, took his military posture and saluted. Hiding how unbelievably weak he felt.

The old man's face was harsh yet forgiving, one that a mother would wear after her children did something silly and asked for her understanding. In a commanding voice, one that didn't match the softness in his eyes, he ordered the small crowd to go to their assigned positions and leave them alone. Hawkeye was the first to leave, immediately calling for Havoc to help her with the needed paperwork that concealed the horrid mission that ended a few moments before in an unnecessary blood bath. And with the cleaning that was due after that, obviously.

Edward stood limply in his corner, his golden eyes fixed on Roy's back. The man wasn't able to turn and face the boy he adored, he was ashamed of himself. He had some explaining to do.

Like that really mattered then.

Grumman waited for everyone to leave and turned to face his protégé. He measured the well-composed officer that was feigning his feelings with all his might and smiled. "Roy, you never learn," he said more to himself and patted Roy on the shoulder. "You may continue with what you have to do. Take care, my boy." With that, the Fuhrer left.

Ed was unfazed by the show in front of him and simply curved in a ball and waited. And he waited.

The body was still there, the ash, the smell, the death. The carbonized figure stood lifelessly, like a decoration in the greenish room. Roy's muscles suddenly relaxed and he turned to look at Edward. He tried to form an assuring smile, but a pained grimace got out. A strained chuckle escaped his dried throat.

"You said you wanted to meet my kin? Well, Edward, welcome to the most illustrious Mustang family," he made and laughed like a rusty razor. Shakily, Ed rose to his feet and, feeling dizzy, he lost consciousness and crumpled back to the floor.

Roy could do nothing but stare.

XXXXX

A soft rustle of sheets welcomed his ears, a pale ray of light warming up his cheeks. Groggily, Edward opened his eyes and slowly flexed his tired muscles. It smelled of fresh bread, and it was so pleasantly warm, unlike outside, were it was still snowing.

Not more than two seconds later, he jumped out of the warm confines. He immediately regretted his sudden movements, as his body hasn't fully recovered after the incident from two weeks before. He shrugged the ache off and wondered blindly through the big room that smelled so good and familiar. He wasn't in that hospital anymore, this bit was obvious.

"Hm? I know this place," he said out loud, his voice sounding a lot more hoarse than usual. It felt like he had thorns on his tongue.

He softly opened the door and traversed the long corridor. He slowly descended the stairs, as if he wanted to make an escape without being seen. He walked like a cat, soundlessly, hoping to go unnoticed.

"Good morning, Fullmetal."

No such thing, though.

As if he was on fire, Edward hissed and looked like he had seen a ghost. Regaining his composure, he moved his eyes to the sofa, on which Roy sat with a warm smile on his face.

"What am I doing in your house, Mustang?" the blond alchemist demanded.

"Um, I didn't know where to take you after you've lost consciousness... I couldn't leave you there, you know..." Roy rubbed his head sheepishly, avoiding eye contact. "I thought you wouldn't mind it, you used to come here quite often. So, Ed, are you hungry? It's little past ten in the morning and- Edward, what the hell?" the Flame growled and waved off the hand Ed extended to touch his pale face. With a force he didn't know he had in him, the young man caught his wrists and forced him to look into his eyes.

"How long has it been since you've slept properly? I didn't notice up until now, but you look like shit, more than usual, that is."

Roy didn't sketch a gesture and pointed his look at the floor. "There is no need to worry, I am perfectly fine." Roy smirked like it was the most natural thing to do at that moment.

"Is that so?" Ed crooked an eyebrow.

"Yes, of course, why would it be otherwise?" He pinched his nose. "Heh, are you perhaps... interested in my wellbeing? That is sweet of you, thank you."

Edward slapped him hard, his balance shifting. He started yelling. "YOU ARE THE MOST IDIOTIC PERSON I'VE EVER MET! YOU BASTARD! YOU... YOU!" Wet tears started falling on his rosy face. "I'm not used to see people killed in front of me... Why the hell didn't you stop when I've told you? Why did the Fuhrer agree to your decision? What was the plan? WHAT THE HELL DID YOU HIDE FROM ME?"

"Eh?" Roy made, looking dumbly. He slowly raised a hand to his reddening cheek.

Ed swung his hand again, this time the automail member, aiming for the same spot on Roy's face, but the man caught it in mid-air. Skilfully, he twisted the metallic arm and spun its owner, entwining his own arms around his slim waist, holding him closely. Resisting, the blond struggled in the embrace, trying to push the heavy body away, but fruitlessly.

"Let go of me, already!" he shouted and tried to hit Roy's jaw. Like a trained soldier, the General effortlessly avoided the blow and pinned the lithe figure to the living room's wall.

"I said let me go!" Ed gritted his teeth.

"No, I won't. Not until you calm yourself."

"Calm myself? CALM?! What calm? Let go of me, you... you murderer!"

Roy suddenly loosened his grip and turned his face away from him. Ed slid off the wall to the floor, hitting his head when he touched the carpet. "Ouch, why did you- Roy? Hey, what's going on with you?"

Roy twisted his neck to look at his subordinate. "Is that how you see me? You too?"

"Me... what? Roy, you've got such peculiar reactions, calm down..." Talking about strange.

"No, Fullmetal, no calming down. You were the one who was supposed to calm down, not me. And how dare you call me a murderer when-" He sighed heavily. "When I'm one. Fuck, I've turned into him."

Ed tilted his head, waiting for the outburst of nerves that, surprisingly, didn't come.

"Thank you, Edward."

"What- Why?"

"Thank you for seeing the monster inside the hero's shell. At last, someone stopped lying to themselves. I, for one, still do."

Edward watched Roy intently. The officer looked like he was holding a speech in front of an enamoured crowd. A crowd that would do anything for their leader. A manipulated and corrupted crowd. But then, there was only him, Edward Elric, and a broken man who was speaking nonsense pretending to have it all planed.

"Oh, you don't see, am I right? A few months ago or close to it, you asked me about myself. Well, please let me present you the great Hero of Ishbal, the Flame Alchemist, fully-fledged General of the Amestrian Military, Roy C. Mustang, at your service," he said and bowed slightly.

"Huh? Have you gone mad?" Ed made a clueless face. "I don't understand..."

"I truly don't get it why no one sees me so, when I must be out of my mind! Edward, last night, I showed you the beautiful path to the highest place in the state, the road to success and, heavens – it was more like an appetizer! This was one of the least obscene missions or duties or whatever I've ever had, believe it or not!"

"What are you saying? I understood that you had to kill a few during the Civil War, but-"

"No buts. That bloody war was, to put it simple, a massacre. That's how my own personal legend was born – one of those who liberated the country! Some of my comrades from back then appraised me numerous times for my personal best – one hundred seventy three men killed in one day just by snapping my fingers at them. Each of them, can you imagine? Can you? Taking one by one, by one... not collectively, because those were far more. But I looked into their eyes and then snapped my fingers. Even though I killed the wounded that were almost dead, it still counted. One of my comrades even dared to tell me that I should set a goal to two hundred! And they laughed and toasted to that!" Roy feigned a laugh. "They said I was good at it. That's how I jumped through the ranks. Not only by killing, of course, I couldn't bring myself to harm too many after what I had to do, I passionately hated myself for my previous actions, but I had to cheat, lie and corrupt. For cleansing I had to sin. My back up was Hughes, who unfortunately didn't get to see me this far away, among those who rule." He made a short pause. "Last night was an act to gain more credibility among the ranks. Do you think it will be convincing?"

The soldier walked to a closet and opened it, pulling out a heavy glossary. He extracted two yellowed photographs, and put the first right before Ed's eyes.

"Recognise him?" He pointed at the blond smiling man in the photo.

"Yes... he is the one you've killed."

"Dismissed, to use old man Grumman's words. This is the one many called 'River' or the 'Nameless Alchemist'. His speciality was the water alchemy, as you've noticed. He never got to be a state alchemist, and had taken part of several organisations under several commands."

He added a second picture next to the one he was holding, covering one of the faces that appeared. "This was taken around twenty-five years ago, give or take. I believe you recognise my aunt, Chris, in the left. She's never been a very appealing woman, her physique being rather sturdy, though her face was truly nice back then, as you can see. But she's still fetching, dear Chris, isn't she? She twisted many hearts in her youth. This one," he pointed to the woman next to his aunt, "is my mother, Amaya, proud Xingese, former prostitute, if I'm not mistaken, and next to her is my father, Cenric. Both died of blood loss from an explosion and, from what I remember from the little I saw, a twisted neck and a ripped off eye and... ankle? I think? Not very sure of it, my apologies."

He took a deep breath and uncovered the last person on the right. "This is the one who killed my parents for a reason I will never know, my only uncle and the brother of my father, Telford Mustang. The reason I chose the flame alchemy, the reason I fought like a madman, the reason why I desperately wanted to get closer to the truth. The other reasons were, of course, the corruption I saw and my pride, but these are also not to be left out. Oh, and I almost forgot – my family's role was to spy for the state. Undercover missions, shady operations, underground management... my grandfather, if I remember it well, was killed by a comrade and my grandmother died in a mission not long after him. Oh, and that's me in the middle," he pointed at the little child. "I was a cute little bum, wasn't I?"

He looked at Edward's speechless face and tilted his chin.

"Welcome to my family."

XXXXX

The previous night, in Madam Christmas' bar

Roy pushed the doors open. He has just been announced by Havoc that the preparations regarding the body have been made and the place has been scrubbed clean and reconstructed by a very helpful alchemist, in the person of Major Armstrong. The mission was finally wrapped up and classified as a new success was added to his portfolio. Edward was brought to his house, where he was, presumably, sleeping soundly.

But now was the real challenge. He had to announce the only one he had left after the familial massacre. His aunt, Chris.

He had to tell his aunt that he'd killed her brother. The last of their kin.

The lady was as usual dancing from a table to another, chatting with the customers and being the heart of the party. With a floral cigarette in her hand, she welcomed her nephew. "Oh, Roy-boy, so glad to see you."

"Madam, may I steal you for a moment?" He said with his best smile. For only a moment, his tiredness and emotional elapse cleared off his face.

Frowning ever so slightly, Madam Christmas nodded. "Of course."

...

They were finally in a secluded place. Chris lit a new cigarette - "I did it" - and took a drag.

She stared for some long moments at her only nephew's face. He looked tired, sad, angry, terrified and sorrowful. He no longer needed to hide behind his well-clad mask. His eyes were full of self-hatred, and his mouth was lacking his signature smirk. That was not her boy. That was a troubled child.

"I see," she said and nodded. She let her cigarette in the ashtray burn and left it to hug Roy. "You did what you had to do. Don't hate yourself, Roy, you are the only one I have left. I don't want to see you sad. That man, he was no family. He gave up on being one. You did the right thing. You accomplished your mission and you helped others not to suffer from his future actions. You did well. I'm proud of you, Roy. I love you, my boy, please don't be sad."

Roy looked into her eyes and absorbed himself in her motherly embrace.

Yes... she was his only family. The woman that has raised him after his biological mother and father died. His only real family left.

A tear threatened to fell on his face, the second time that night. But he didn't let it go. There was no need to cry for what he had done. He'd followed orders, had acted on his own accord, whatever that had been – there was no reason to feel bad for anything.

With a slight smile, he muttered, "Thank you, Mother."

XXXXX

"Fa- Family? That's your family?" Edward asked, shifting his eyes from the photo to Roy's face. It was somehow... serene?

"Yes, that's them. You have seen my parents when they were a little younger, in the photo on my desk. Anyway, now only my Aunt and I are alive." He lifted Ed's chin and gazed in those molten-gold eyes that made his heart skip a beat. He lifted his gaze and mouthed idly, "Yes, this is my life story. Not much of the fairy tale I would have preferred to tell you or what the others see. That's all there is to be presented." He shrugged. "This is me."

Ed lowered his eyes, looking at the floor like it was a precious jewel. What was he supposed to say? Great job? I'm sorry for you? Go to hell?

What should he say?

"Edward, I am sorry for making you assist to what you have. I didn't want to tell you a word as I preferred to know you are safe and... argh, who am I lying to? I was afraid that I would lose you if I told you. And, naturally, I understand if you want to leave me and, if you want, to move to another military section, I can arrange everything, there's no problem. I can perfectly under-"

He was slapped harshly across the face.

"What was that for?" Roy groaned, rubbing the sore spot on his face. Ed slapped him again, hard and mercilessly, with his automail. "I am merely offering you all the comfort I can give, or is it that you want a residence as well where you'll move? Just tell me how big and it is done."

"Roy Mustang, don't make me slap you again, because I think this time my hand will accidently transform into a hammer. Are you stupid?" Ed exploded.

"Pardon me? Is there anything else you wanted and I didn't mention?" Roy said rubbing his cheek absently. "Please, do tell."

"I was right, you are stupid. Fucking mad in the head. Why on the Trust's name do you think I've stayed with you all this time? For the hell of the ride? Damn, your blindness is coming back or what? You make me sound like a girl, bastard! But... argh, please, don't push me away... My brother is no longer with me and it's kind of boring, not like I enjoy your company or something, but... you're all I have and I'd...," he gulped. Why was it so hard? "I'd like to be the only one you- you have, that's it."

Those golden eyes looked like they were about to jump out of their sockets. Roy lifted his hand and stroked Edward's cheeks softly. "Am I mistaken or are you implying you have feelings for me?"

Ed threw him a murderous look. "You bet I do, I fucking hate you!" he shouted from the top of his lungs and stormed out of the living room, heading for the main entrance. He didn't give a damn he was dressed only in house slacks and a loose blouse, he wanted out. Even naked, he would have gone out in the street. Watchers beware, there came the Edwardian train.

Roy sprinted from the living room and grabbed Ed's forearm. He trapped the smaller body with his opulent stature. With an outstanding agility, Ed escaped and threw Roy off his feet with a powerful blow to the shin. Barefoot, he opened the door to get out the house in which he's dreamt and gotten his dreams crushed by a heartless man.

"Please, don't leave!" a desperate voice called after him, halting his train of thoughts. "Don't leave me... please, Edward, I'm begging you..." The hard blow had yet to come.

He was already half out, why would he stay?

"I love you."

"Oh."

A/N: Pow, pow, pow. That's it for now. Frankly, I quite felt like a sappy queen at a certain point, at the end of the first part, if I may say. Whatever, I hope you enjoyed... truly do. Please, leave a review/follow/favourite, it boosts me up! Thank you for reading!

Bye, bye!