Disclaimer: I don't own Full Metal Alchemist

The Longest Winter

It is snowing. Everything you see is coated with white, pure snow. After a while, white becomes the only colour you can see. The world in white seems so pure and untainted that you wonder if you taint it with your mere presence.

It is freezing out here, in the open. And the wind continues howling. Anyone would opt to stay inside, beside the warm fireplace, but not you. You always choose the hardest path for yourself. You stand very still like a good little soldier. You don't even stir to rub your hands or to brush off the snow that starts piling on your head and shoulders. You just let it be.

You are not thinking anything in particular at the moment. The freezing temperature has numbed all your senses and made it impossible to think anyway. And you prefer it this way – not to think, not to feel, merely existing. This is why you chose to be here in the first place.

You just want to forget. Forget everything that happened, forget who you used to be, and most of all forget your past. You start digging to bury your pride, your ambition along with every memory you ever had in the snow. You bury them so deep that you can never hope to find them again. The flame in you is put out and gone, leaving a cold, empty shell behind.

You are now an exile, a sinner and a betrayer. You have betrayed those who trusted you, those who supported you and those who sacrificed their lives so you could reach the top. Now look at you. Look at what you've done to yourself and what you've done to them. You have broken your promise and you failed them again by giving up.

At night, you will visit the local bar with one and only one purpose in mind – getting yourself very, very drunk. You will choose to sit in a dark corner, away from any prying eyes, and order yourself a jug of beer. That cheap alcohol is all you can afford now. You are no longer the great Colonel, remember? Yeah, you are only a little soldier guarding the country's border. You are nobody. You have no life.

Once your beer comes, you will immediately start pouring yourself a glass. You gulp it down like water, ignoring the appetizer completely. You keep drinking one glass after another until the line between reality and dreaming blurs. Often, the bartender will have to nudge you awake and tell you they are closing for that night. You will fumble for your wallet and fork out the money, then leave the bar.

You often don't remember how you get back to your hut. It doesn't matter anyway. Sometimes you end up sleeping on the floor instead of your bed. Once you even slept overnight outside in the corridor. It was a miracle you didn't freeze to death.

Then the morning comes. No matter how drunk you were the night before, you always set the alarm clock and wake up on time. Then you start off your day and report to the Central Office. Some days, though very rarely, you oversleep a little and you don't even have time to shave. You leave with stubble still on your chin.

Occasionally the upper officers will spot-check on you. You always salute respectably and report to them as the dutiful soldier you are, graciously ignoring those suspicious eyes and whatever sarcastic remarks they have. Day after day, night after night, you live this quiet, monotonous life. It has been almost two years since you started serving here. You started thinking you would live the rest of your life here. That is until one day when they came to visit you.

Both Havoc and Breda came to visit you that day. You didn't call them, didn't send any telegrams and certainly didn't write any letters to them in these two years. You had cut off any possible means of communication with them. Yet they came. They called out to you, "Colonel! Colonel! Where are you?" They didn't see you. You were covered with snow. You hesitated for a brief moment whether to show yourself.

In the end, you showed yourself anyway. You saluted to them, "Second Lieutenant Havoc and Second Lieutenant Breda." You invited them to come inside and sit by the fireplace. They said they were glad to see you healthy and well; you answered that you were just an ordinary soldier. You told them you planned to serve the country in your own way, reminding them you weren't the Colonel they used to know.

Then Havoc took out a cigarette out of habit. You immediately pulled out a box of matches from your pocket and bent forward, trying to light up a match for him. They were shocked at your action. You knew what they were thinking. The Flame Alchemist chooses to light up matches when he can make fire just by flicking his fingers? You remained stoic and explained to them that you hadn't used alchemy since that fateful day because you see those people who died because of your foolishness every time you do.

They lingered for a while then left. You knew they were disappointed by what they saw in you. Their once ambitious, arrogant, confident Colonel was gone, no more except for what was left in their memory. At least that was what you convinced them and yourself.

But you had a restless sleep that night. You dreamt that they kept asking the same question over and over again, "Why, Colonel? Why? Why did you leave us?" Hawkeye was in your dream too. But she remained silent in your dream. She only stood there in the crowd and watched you from a distance. Her eyes were so sorrowful that it tore your heart just to look at her. Then you jerked awake and couldn't go back to sleep again that night.

The next morning, you simply headed straight to the train station and caught the earliest train to the Central. You didn't even bother to inform anyone or pack any belongings. You couldn't even explain to yourself why you were doing this. All you wanted to do at that moment was just get back to the Central as soon as possible. You had a gut feeling that something would be happening; you didn't know what but you needed to meet her again to make sure she was alright.

And surprisingly your gut feelings were right for once – Central had been under attack and they had needed you. You started giving out orders to them, your ever-loyal subordinates once again, and they obliged without any argument. And when you finally saw her, saluting and smiling to you, you knew that the winter was finally over.

A/N: I don't know why but the movie really inspired me to write. I guess I wrote this because I wanted to fill up the void between post-series and the movie. This is my take on Roy's POV. Hopefully I managed to do him justice.

As usual, many thanks to my beta-reader, Isee. She had done a great job.