Roy narrowed his eyes, staring at the silver pocket watch on his desk and not quite able to tear his gaze from it. The light caught and highlighted every scratch and dent, the watch looking like it had been used as a weapon instead of a timepiece. "Come again, Fullmetal?"

Edward Elric stood in front of him, dressed in his trademark red coat and a smirk on his face that didn't quite reach his tired eyes. He looked almost gaunt, with eyes almost sunken like a sick man. The sunlight streaming from the window behind Roy gave him a glowing, almost angelic appearance, a false look of liveliness, but Roy knew better. "You heard me, Mustang. I'm retiring."

"You're what, twelve now? Going to spend the next seventy years playing bridge at the old folks home?"

Ed scoffed. "I'm twenty, old man. And for your information, Al and I have stuff to do. All this military crap is taking up too much time, and I have more important things to—" Ed coughed into his hand. "—do."

"Little cold?" Maybe that was what had him looking so exhausted.

"Who are you calling small, you smug jerk?!" Ed demanded, though not with as much fervor as Roy was expecting.

A knock at the door halted Roy's snide response. It cracked open, a pale toe-headed boy stepping in, golden eyes bright.

Alphonse had improved leaps and bounds in the wake of the Promise Day. He had gone from little more than a quivering, ill sack of bones to a confident, healthy-looking young man in only two years. He was still a little too thin, with cheekbones that looked just a bit too sharp and a bony sort of appearance, but he seemed happy and healthy, adjusting to the return of his body with the determination and will at which he had always approached everything.

Now, he stood tall, dressed smartly in a tweed suit and bowtie, like a respectable business man. He had been teaching alchemy at Central University for a whole year, but now . . .

"Alphonse," Roy greeted with a nod of his head and a smile. "Fullmetal tells me that he's retiring."

Al glanced at his brother, then back at Roy, his own beaming smile dimming just a bit. "That's right, Col—Brigadier General. I turned in my own resignation this morning."

"Please, call me Roy," he said, then frowned. "So, you're both leaving town?"

"That's right," Ed confirmed. "We're heading back east. I'm hoping to get another look at those Xerxian ruins before I kick the bucket."

"Brother!" Al hissed, shooting a glare at them that was a bit too intense for the situation, in Roy's opinion. Curious.

Ed shrugged, but almost looked a bit abashed. It was something only Alphonse could inspire in his brazen older brother. "Anyway, I'm just turning this paperweight in before I head out. We're on the next train." He looked at his brother, then back at Roy. "The cab is out front. Guess this is goodbye."

Something in his voice was too heavy and too final. It rubbed Roy the wrong way. He stood up, the fading sun warming his back. "Kind of sudden. On the overnight to Resembool?"

Ed shrugged again. "It's the last this week, and you know how the storms shut down the trains every other week when you get farther east than Isfara this time of year." Flimsy excuse. It was true that they shut down often, but it was at most, a minor inconvenience requiring an overnight stay in a motel until the rains abated and the railways were safe again. Ed pivoted to the side and coughed in his hand again.

"Planning on studying on the train?"

"I might read a book," Ed agreed.

"Or five," Al added with a smirk.

"Trains get bumpy," Roy pointed out, plucking the watch off his desk by its silver chain. It clanked gently as the watch fell to the end of it's slack, bouncing once before hanging, heavy like the burden it represented. Roy regarded briefly the way two sets of golden eyes followed it as he twirled it around his wrist once and tossed it to Ed. "You might need a paperweight."

Ed caught it in two flesh-and-blood hands, quirking a blond eyebrow. Roy didn't miss the way his too-tired eyes flared just a bit with hope. "Isn't that illegal?"

Roy shrugged. "The military has more important things to do than chase down a pocket watch, Fullmetal."

"Could have fooled me, the way you sit around all day," Ed snarked, but pocketed the timepiece that represented a long, hard struggle and everything the brothers had overcome. It was almost poetic, if Roy were inclined to being poetic.

Alphonse cleared his throat, drawing the room's attention. "We better get going. We'll miss our train." He stepped forward to Roy, smile turning almost wistful as he offered out a hand. "Guess we'll see you later, Sir."

Roy took his hand and couldn't have been more proud that it was now too flesh-and-blood. "It's Roy," he corrected with a smile. "I'll see you around, Alphonse."

Al's hand tightened around his, holding it for another beat before he turned, heading into the outer office.

Ed stepped up to Roy, a smirk on his face that was too shallow to be entirely real. He lifted his hand in a lazy salute. "Later, Colonel Idiot."

"That's 'Brigadier General Idiot' to you, shorty," Roy said, offering his hand.

Ed ground his teeth, glaring at Roy's hand before taking it in a shake that was just a little too tight. It was flesh-and-blood, just like Al's. "I'm not going to miss you at all, Mustang."

Roy smirked. "I won't miss you either, brat."

Again, the lingering, the glower softening into what could have been remorse. Then, his expression closed once again, and with one more firm shake, he released Roy's hand, turning and marching to the door.

A pang of regret smothered the suspicion for a moment.

For the past few years, Roy had grown very fond of the Elric brothers. He had seen their ups and downs, cheering them on when they needed it and reprimanding them—mostly Ed—when the situation warranted, and now faced with their sudden parting, Roy didn't want to see them go.

Roy followed them to his door, leaning on the frame while they walked around the outer office, shaking hands with Fuery and Falman, Alphonse holding his brother back from strangling Havoc at an ill-timed short joke, Breda handing them a few packages of crackers from his desk for the trip, and Hawkeye gave them both an affectionate hug before they headed to the door.

The last glimpse Roy got of the Elric brothers was Ed's wave over his shoulder as he followed Alphonse out, the tail of that obnoxious red coat disappearing around the corner, and then they were gone.

And then that gnawing suspicion returned.

XxXxX

Roy was able to put it out of his mind for a while. Months, actually. Work had him busy, with four new cases cropping up in the span of two months, and as a Brigadier General, the paperwork load had almost doubled from his Colonel days.

Honestly, if he had known that the road to becoming Furher was paved in paperwork, he would have become an alchemy teacher instead.

Weeks turned into months, and with nothing but the occasional letter and phone call from the boys, Roy and his team gradually settled into the quiet mundanity of life without the Elric brothers. Roy looked forward to those calls more than he cared to admit aloud.

But every time he hung up, Roy got that feeling again. He spoke to Ed less and less, while Alphonse's good nature sounded more and more strained. Something wasn't right, but Roy couldn't quite put his finger on it.

Until the last phone call.

"Roy," Alphonse's tiny voice murmured through the phone. All of his typical good cheer was absent, stripped away to bare exhaustion.

"Alphonse," Roy greeted carefully, taken aback. This was completely out of character. "What happened?"

Silence, then, "I . . . I think I need some help, Roy," he admitted.

Roy leaned farther back in his chair, cradling the earpiece between his ear and shoulder as he put down his pen and closed the file before him. "Help?" he prompted.

"It's Ed. I don't know what to do anymore . . . I don't know who else to ask, I can't help him, and it just keeps getting worse—"

"Alphonse," Roy interrupted, effectively halting the young man's rambling. "In order for me to help you, you have to tell me what's going on."

The silence on the other end of the line was deafening. Then, Alphonse took a ragged breath.

"He's dying."

"Rain, don't you have another fic you're supposed to be working on?" -Why, yes. Yes, I do.

"Okay then, are you, like, planning on updating that any time soon?" -Mhmm.

"I'm talking about in the next week or so, woman. Not that sporadic insanity you call an update 'schedule.'" -I never claimed to have a schedule. Joke's on you. xD

"Why couldn't you finish one before you started this?!" -Because that would be responsible, and I am anything but.

"You're hopeless." -That's not true, because I HOPE THAT I CAN ACTUALLY SLEEP IN TOMORROW PAST 9:00 AM, HOLY MOSES, IS THIS SUMMER BREAK OR ISN'T IT?!

In all seriousness, I think I need a nap. Or just more sleep in general. Because I just had that conversation with myself xD

So, yes, "Dead on Arrival" will be updated soon-ish. Just hit some writers block with it, because I know where I want to go, but I wrote something that wasn't in the outline, wanted to keep it, and now I have to reconfigure some stuff :'D If I'm not careful, I'm going to make myself sound organized . . . or insane.

This little fic is inspired by some wonderful people I met in a chat. They were discussing angst and I couldn't write anything angst-less after that xD So shout-out to you lovelies for the inspiration ;)

This will be one huge excuse for angst, and I'm going to kind of be sort of unstructured with this one. I might not even type up an outline at all, just to see where it goes. Wish me luck with that xD

Now that I've typed the longest author's note ever, I shall bid you good day c: If you have time, please leave a review, and I'll see you next time!

God Bless,

-RainFlame