I don't own any of the characters from Full Metal Alchemist. Love the idea of Roy and Ed.

Warning: Some mention of shounen-ai below. Nothing explicit, merely affection.

Author's Note:

Yes, it looks like Perdition is going to become a collection of drabbles/one-shots to keep me amused. But fear not, I'm halfway through a SK chapter and have the FFVII arc worked out, so those should make an appearance soon enough!

A particularly good Pinot Noir (or Spätburgunder, as it is known in Germany a.k.a. Amestris) during a rewatching of the FMA Movie Conqueror of Shamballa inspired this. Not as comedic as the last chapter because I was in a meditative, mellow mood. In vino veritas!

PERDITION: REUNION

To everything there is a season,
a time for every purpose under the sun.
A time to be born and a time to die;
a time to plant and a time to pluck up that which is planted;
a time to kill and a time to heal ...
a time to weep and a time to laugh;
a time to mourn and a time to dance ...
a time to embrace and a time to refrain from embracing;
a time to lose and a time to seek;
a time to rend and a time to sew;
a time to keep silent and a time to speak;
a time to love and a time to hate;
a time for war and a time for peace.

- Ecclesiastes 3:1-8

He hadn't been expecting very much when the bartender set the glass down before him, obligingly showing him the bottle before pouring. His brief glimpse of the label indicated that the wine was of the Spätburgunder varietal, Rheingau region, but by a producer he was unfamiliar with, and not a particularly remarkable year, age notwithstanding, if his shaky knowledge of wines was anything to go on. The wine was an inky red in his glass, its deep color lending it a weight he doubted it possessed, but he dutifully swirled, sniffed and sipped.

Unfortunately, he was right. An unremarkable wine. The dark-haired man shrugged wryly and glanced around the bar. It was cozy enough, warm wood paneling on the walls and bright polished gold trim, a cheery blaze crackling in the fireplace. He gazed at the fire with loathing, hating the memories it brought up. A few other patrons were dotted about the room, most alone like himself and nursing drinks, obviously wishing to be left alone with their thoughts.

He drained his glass.

"Another, sir?" the bartender asked. He thought about that, mind already becoming pleasantly fuzzy. Why not?

The bartender had uncorked the bottle and poured him another glass almost before he opened his mouth. An exceedingly efficient sort of chap. He took a closer look at him. Grey eyes in an oddly unremarkable face of indeterminate age. Strangely familiar, and yet he had never met him before, had he?

"You're new here, aren't you?"

"Yes," nodded the bartender as he wiped down the counter with a swiftness that spoke of years of experience. A close-lipped one.

"What happened to the previous guy?" For some reason, the fleeting image of setting the man's sleeve on fire went through Roy's mind, even though he was certain he'd never done that. Couldn't do that now, anyway, he thought bitterly. The man's name had been Max, hadn't it?

"It's really not my place to say, sir," was the polite reply. "May I get you something else?"

"A name, perhaps?"

"Certainly, sir. You are Roy Mustang, the Flame Alchemist."

He snorted derisively. "That title means little these days. No, I was asking your name?"

"Ah. The name is Quinn, sir. Harley Quinn," and for an instant the faceted glass the bartender was polishing between long, nervous fingers must have caught the light, because a prismatic spectrum of colors flashed for a moment against his white sleeve, making it look as though he were dressed in a patchwork rainbow. And then he set the glass down with its brethren, and the moment was lost, but Roy couldn't quite get the image out of his mind.

"Well, Quinn. Here's to you," and he raised his glass. "May you last longer than the last."

"Change is sometimes a good thing, sir."

"And sometimes not." Roy smiled tightly. "What do you do if you don't like a change?" His hand moved to touch his eye-patch as his lips twisted cynically.

Quinn smiled enigmatically. "I believe, sir, that you pick yourself up and walk forward. I'm sure he'd agree, don't you?"

Roy started and looked up, but Quinn was already moving down to the other end of the bar to take an order.

He. Quinn couldn't have meant…no, of course not. That was the little voice of desperation talking. But still…he waited until Quinn was done, then caught the man's eye.

"Yes, sir?"

"What you were saying earlier...who were you referring to?"

"Do you often ask questions you already know the answers to, sir?"

Roy's fingers clenched so hard around his wine glass that he was surprised it did not shatter. "How do you know him? Have you seen him?"

Quinn gazed at him steadily with fathomless grey eyes. "This is Perdition, sir, the between bar. And I am its host. I know everyone in every timeline in every story who might conceivably stop by. And everyone does, eventually. Excuse me." He moved off to attend to another patron, leaving Roy alone with his thoughts.

The door swung open behind the dark-haired man – he could feel the draft against his back as he stared into the darkling depths of his wine, cursing himself for being so foolish as to allow himself to hope. Footsteps entered, paused, continued on, and came to a halt just behind his shoulder. He hunched over, willing the other to go away and leave him to his brooding. At least he could see his face in his memories.

A voice. Young, but with a graceful note of hard-won maturity. "Colonel?"

He growled, resting his forehead against the cool glass in his hand. "Not a Colonel now. Go. Away."

"Colonel…" and there was a catch in the voice now, as if its owner were struggling with some great emotion, "Colonel, it's me. They told me I'd find you here," and a gentle hand dropped lightly onto his shoulder. "Mustang. Look at me. Please."

And now he did turn around, sharp words blooming on his lips ready to lash out at this intruder, words that dissolved like shards of spun sugar on his lips and tongue as a sweetly warm mouth crashed onto on his with a fervor that sent him falling backwards. His arms came up automatically to wrap themselves around the intruder as he tried to regain his balance, his mind reeling as it attempted to catch up to what his body already knew instinctively, his tongue slipping out to trace the other's lower lip delicately, delighting in the moan that the gesture elicited. But he had to know for sure, had to see for himself, and he broke the kiss reluctantly, pushing the other away just enough to see his face.

Midnight met gold. Hearts fluttered and came to life in chests that had been hollow. And time seemed to stop.

A little taller, a little older, a little thinner, but still just as beautiful, Roy thought dazedly. Edward Elric smiled tremulously. "Hey bastard. Missed me?"

Roy opened his mouth, then shut it when no sound emerged. He took a deep breath, cleared his throat, and tried again. "Why Fullmetal, I didn't even notice your absence – it's easy to overlook someone so small, you know."

He waited for the explosion of sound that would have followed in the past. Waited for Ed to rant at him in that way that simultaneously amused him and irritated him and challenged him and made him feel completely and utterly alive.

But it didn't come. Instead Ed shrugged wanly and looked away, cheeks flushed. "Yeah, well…I missed you." He returned his gaze to Roy's face, reaching up with gentle fingers to trace Roy's eye-patch, a troubled look on his face. "Does it hurt?"

Roy caught his hand gently, "Not anymore. At first, yes…but losing my alchemy hurt more." He squeezed Ed's hand. "I am glad you got your arm back though."

Ed bit his lip awkwardly. "Yeah, well…I'd trade it for your eye in a heartbeat," he muttered. And then quickly, before Roy could say anything, "And I know what you mean. About the alchemy, that is. Where I've been, it doesn't work…they have these other sciences to take its place. But it's not the same. And it hurt so much…and damn it Roy, I missed you so bloody much, you fucking bastard, and I make it all the way back here and all you can do is make short jokes?"

Ah, there it was. And the wave of relief that swept over Roy was so overwhelming, the sure and certain knowledge that this really was Ed and not some phantasm of his imagination such a blessing, that he began to laugh. He laughed as he had not for over two years, a cleansing, freeing release of tension that brought tears to his good eye.

His blonde companion was glaring daggers at him, bewildered. "You think this is funny? You're even further gone than they said you were! Stop laughing, damn it!"

"Who's 'they'?" Roy managed to gasp out.

"Hawkeye, Havoc – the crew. I ran into them outside, but they wouldn't come in with me. Said it would do you good to see me alone first." Ed glared huffily at Roy, who was still doubled over in hysteria. "Fuck you. I'm going."

The dark-haired man regained control of himself with a mighty effort, feeling his spine straighten as a weight lifted off his shoulders. He reached out and caught Ed's arm, bringing his other hand to Ed's cheek and purring as the younger man nestled unconsciously against him. "Not here, Fullmetal. People are trying to have drinks after all. Later. But we can certainly do this," and he captured Ed's lips again in a possessive, soul-searing kiss of burning flame that made his previous repudiation of his title a lie, and Ed returned the sentiment in full, nipping lightly at his swollen lower lip even as a muffled growl rumbled up in his throat and down Roy's spine, sparking each and every nerve ending along its path.

"Ahem."

They broke apart, flushing. Quinn inclined his head politely.

"It is good to see you feeling more like yourself again, Colonel."

Roy's eyes narrowed. "You haven't used my military rank before. And I'm no longer a Colonel."

Quinn's face was unreadable. "You haven't deserved it before, sir. And in this place, you are exactly who you are meant to be. Another drink?"

"I'll have whatever he's having," Ed volunteered, sliding onto the stool next to Roy's. He seemed far less nonplussed than Roy by Quinn, but then all that he had doubtless seen and done during his two year hiatus probably made a seemingly omniscient bartender in a between bar nothing out of the ordinary.

"It's not that good a wine, Fullmetal…"

"…Edward."

Roy blinked. "I beg your pardon?"

Ed met his gaze levelly. "I haven't been under your command for a very long time, Roy. And my name is Edward."

Understanding. "Edward. Ed."

Quinn set a glass down before Ed and stood back, smiling faintly. The two men picked up their glasses, toasted each other, and brought the wine to their lips.

Ambrosia. Rich, dark, full-bodied, with a hint of fruit that danced on the palate, seductive velvet on the tongue that mingled with the lingering taste of Edward. And nothing like what Roy had been drinking before.

Roy's eye widened in surprise. "This can't be the same wine."

"I assure you it is, sir."

"I like it," Ed offered, licking his flushed, wine-stained lips appreciatively, apparently unaware of the seductive quality of the gesture.

"But…" Roy trailed off, a faint line between his brows.

"Perhaps the wine merely needed to breathe a little, sir," Quinn offered dispassionately. "Sometimes a wine needs time to…fully develop. It needs to be uncorked to free up its complexities. Sometimes perfection…is only a matter of timing. To everything there is a season…"

"A time to be born and a time to die;…a time to kill and a time to heal…a time to weep and a time to laugh;…a time to embrace and a time to refrain from embracing; a time to lose and a time to seek;…a time for war and a time for peace."

Ed's voice was husky, but the cadences of his speech told Roy that he was reciting the lines from memory. The litany stirred something deep inside him, and he had to swallow hard to force the lump in his throat down. "Something you picked up in your travels?"

"Yeah, you could say that. Where I was…they had a book, a religious text…" Ed trailed off, seemingly embarrassed at having to admit that he, the Fullmetal Atheist, had actually deigned to read such stuff. "Anyway, I found this passage, and I liked it. It…it made the waiting easier."

"Indeed," and it was Quinn who spoke. "And as for the wine, sirs…it could also simply be that a wine such as this one is best enjoyed in the company of friends…and lovers."

Roy would remember that last statement long into the future. He would remember it each and every time he opened a bottle of the wine – he would make sure to lay down several cases of it in his cellar. Ed would tease him about being a creature of habit and for laying down what he had previously dismissed as "an unremarkable wine", but Roy would merely smile serenely as he poured out two glasses, one for each of them. They would settle comfortably on the sofa and Roy would recall the day Ed came back to him, recall the sight and smell and taste of his lover in minute detail as Ed blushed and hid his face in Roy's shoulder. And the wine would never disappoint, one sniff evoking the heartbreak and joy and confusion and ecstasy of the reunion.

But at that moment, in a bar named Perdition, Roy Mustang had no way of knowing that. All he could know was that Edward Elric had finally been returned to him after two long years.

"I missed you too." A time to lose…

Ed smiled, though there were tears in his eyes. "Care to stop telling me and show me instead?" A time to seek…

And Roy rose gracefully and held out his hand. "Come home with me, Edward. Our story begins soon – but I think we have just enough time." A time to embrace…

They turned towards the door as one, fingers entwined, but were again stopped by a polite cough from the bar. Quinn motioned to something lying on the bar where they had been sitting, although Roy could have sworn that the objects hadn't been there a moment ago.

"Colonel? I think these belong to you."

The gloves were pristine, stark white against the dark wood of the bar, the only scars marring their surface a set of very familiar arrays. Roy stared at them, fear warring with hope.

"I can't. Not anymore. I…."

A gentle hand covered his protesting lips, and he lifted his eyes almost fearfully to meet Ed's determined gaze. "You couldn't, because it wasn't time. But I'm here with you now. And I know you can."

Slowly, he reached out and picked up the gloves, turning them over in his hands as if to reassure himself of their solidity, their realness, as a man will do when he finds something he thought never to see again. He ran a fingertip lightly over the arrays.

The fire in the hearth abruptly blazed up, though it had been dying to embers not seconds ago.

Ed nuzzled his cheek proudly before kissing him again thoroughly, and this time Quinn did not interrupt, merely watched with a faint smile as the two men walked out. Roy turned on the threshold, realizing that he hadn't paid for his drinks, wanting to thank Quinn for his mysterious aid, but Ed caught his sleeve and shook his head gently.

"This is Perdition, Roy. It's on the house. You know that."

Roy looked back at Quinn, who was once again polishing the glasses behind the bar. The bartender looked up and nodded briefly in acknowledgement, and once again Roy was struck by the way the light reflecting off the mirrors behind the bar bathed Quinn in a multi-colored patchwork of diamonds for an instant. He wondered if Ed had seen it too.

"Did you…who is he?"

"Shh." Ed's eyes were glowing. "No more questions. Just know that this is Perdition, and Harley Quinn is its host." The blonde curled his fingers into Roy's shirtfront and tugged downwards insistently. "Now shut up and kiss me."

Roy obeyed. He hadn't made Colonel by disobeying orders, after all.