Summary: Mustang and Hughes talk about the past and the future. Slight royai.

Thanks SnakeCharmerFoxx and shadowriter55 for the replies, they are truly appreciated


Amber Numbs the Pain

Deep amber liquid sloshed about the bottom of the squat glass as Roy Mustang stared at his wavy reflection as if scrying for the answer to some unasked question. Drawing the glass to his lips, he took in the rich, smoky aroma of the liquid. After lingering briefly, he set the glass down on the dark wooden desk. Behind him, the fading day cast its orange rays through the three tall windows, giving an electric glow to the liquid.

"Starting a little early, aren't we?" Maes Hughes asked from a chair at the desk grouping. Receiving only a growl in response, he went on, "So what are the exciting plans for tonight? Sit here and drink until dark? Wander home, doodle some more arrays and fall asleep at the desk?"

Roy laughed but it was bitter. "You make is sound like I don't have a life."

"You don't." Leaning back on the wooden chair, Maes slung an arm over the back. "And you're not sleeping well either."

The observation made Roy wince as he grabbed the glass and swirled it around in tight circles, spinning the liquid up the sides of the glass. A dull throbbing began to form inside his skull. Eager to shake off the all too accurate observation, he smiled lecherously. "Hard to sleep when Simone," he paused and grimaced. "Or was it Sophia? Hard to keep track," he mumbled. They all seemed to blend together. Not that it truly mattered. He had no desire to pursue a relationship with Simone—Sophia—or anyone else. Least of all, right now. Besides, for most of those women it was a mutual game. He played the part, hiding behind a mask cultivated of rumors and innuendos and they got a night on the arm of the famed Flame Alchemist, the war hero.

The thought made him want to throw up.

Breaking the silence, Roy wearily said, "Rough day." He capped it off by taking a swig of the liquid, letting it burn its way down his throat, numbing his sense of taste, even as he prayed it would take away the taste of ash that still, after so long, lingered.

"I see."

"Don't."

"I didn't say anything," Maes chuckled as he raised his hands defensively. The smile quickly faded as he pulled his glasses off and looked through them. Drawing a cloth from a pocket, he wiped the lenses clean. "Okay, so I did. This self loathing—"

"Hughes."

"I know. Don't."

Roy growled and took another swig. He pressed the cool glass to his forehead. It only seemed to intensify his growing headache.

"You look like hell." Maes put his glasses back on and adjusted them slightly. "Have you thought about a vacation?"

"I have no place to go."

"Home? See your family."

"Not in this lifetime."

For a time, there was only silence, before Maes spoke up again, "You haven't been to the house lately. Elicia has grown so much. She misses her Uncle Roy."

"I've been busy," came a soft, guilt tinged reply.

It was just…how could he after everything that had happened?

"Yeah." Folding his arms across his chest, Maes just sat there, staring at his friend behind the desk. There was no judgment or accusation in his look. "I know."

Roy glared at Maes, then like a cowed child shifted his gaze away before settling on his drink again. He sighed and studied the bit of liquid at the bottom of the glass. "Did you ever think it would turn out like this?"

When no answer came, Roy finished off the drink and heavily sat the glass down in the center of his desk. He held the smooth crystal in his hand, like a chess piece, maintaining his turn.

Maes stood up slowly and stared toward the windows behind the desk. An orange glow blazed across his calm features before a wide grin painted his face as he scratched the back of his head. "I was just thinking about that drinking contest we had while on pass in Thanet."

Soft laughter. "I remember waking up, stuck to the floor under a table in some tavern. I don't remember much else."

"I do." Maes grinned widely. "You were proposing to every girl in the bar that night."

A familiar, cocky smile tugged at Roy's lips. "I was?" Somehow, he thought he would remember something like that.

"Yeah, and if I hadn't been there, you'd probably be married to half of them."

Roy laughed—genuine, warm laughter—as he pushed the glass away. "There were some beautiful girls," he said rocking back in his chair as liquor-fogged memories drifted through his mind.

"You were quite drunk."

Suspicious of Maes' tone, Roy raised a brow. "You said they were beautiful."

Stroking his chin, the other man took on a thoughtful look, and then corrected his friend. "No, I said after a few drinks they would look beautiful. Trust me, Thanet isn't known for its beauty queens. Though I suspect you broke a few hearts that night and there are probably a few angry fathers who still burn effigies of you."

"At least you had my back."

"I always do."

Maes had that look, the one Roy only disliked when it was aimed toward him, the one that always seemed to see straight through no matter what façade he tried to hide behind. A wicked smile pulled across his sharp features. "So what's the game plan for tonight? Sit here nursing your drink all evening? Scribble in that journal of yours and fall asleep at your desk? Better yet, find you a lovely girl?" The grin widened even more. He was clearly enjoying this. "A wife hunt!"

"I don't think Gracia would appreciate you looking for another wife," Roy said as he pushed his chair back and slowly stood up.

"Ha! Wasn't talking about me, buddy." Maes grimaced. "Don't snarl at me. You need someone to give you hell."

"I've been to hell."

"Not that kind." Maes said as he straightened his crisp blue uniform. "The kind that completes you. Someone whom you want to wake up with every morning. You know, a wife."

A click and a squeak of old hinges drew the two men's attention to the office door. A blond head peeked in curiously revealing slightly worried amber eyes. Surprise briefly lit Lt. Hawkeye's expression as she quickly straightened, meeting Roy's gaze. "Sir." A look of concern quickly bled away behind a mask of well-trained calm as she glanced around the room. "I did not realize you were still here. I heard noises."

"I thought you had left for the day," Roy said coolly.

"I forgot some paperwork. I felt I should come back and get it."

A soft whimper drew Roy's attention and he noticed the black and white pup with a red collar sitting out in the hall waiting patiently for his mommy.

"I see," Roy said.

Hawkeye glanced about the office once more and then started to retreat. "Forgive my interruption."

"That's all right," Roy whispered but doubted she heard him as the door closed behind her. He looked to the empty glass sitting on the desk and sighed.

"Forgot some paperwork, huh," Maes mused.

"What are you going on about?"

The taller man looked at Roy with a hint of surprise. "Well you were pretty grumpy today."

"I am not grumpy."

Maes just looked at him. "Right." He held a hand out toward Roy as if to shake hands. "Have we met? You are Roy Mustang, right?" Receiving a sharp look, he burst out laughing. "Why don't you call it a night," he said. "I bet she isn't too far down the hall."

Roy looked toward the door, then back to his empty glass.

"When you've had a few good drinks in you, you can be quite entertaining," the taller man began. "I lied about Thanet, there was one pretty girl there. Of course, there was also a balding, fiftysome-year-old Lt. Colonel whom you made a pass at. I don't think he appreciated it. But…" That mischievous look glowed across his features as he waved a finger, as if to highlight what he was about to say. "But there was this one blond. Damn. You smiled and half the girls in the bar swooned. You drunkenly propositioned her. She laid you out with one punch. I decided to let you sleep it off under the table. Figured you'd be less of a danger to yourself." Laughter. "I just couldn't…it was just—"

"I'm glad I could entertain you," Roy grumbled as he scratched the top of his head and tried to remember the bar and that night but only came up blank. "I don't recall any of that."

"You probably had a concussion. She did hit you pretty hard." A muffled yap was heard from somewhere in the building. Maes turned to look at the closed door. "You can still catch her."

"Fine," Roy huffed as he marched past his friend and went to the closet where he grabbed his long black coat and roughly pulled it on. "If it will get you off my back."

"For today at least."

Turning, Roy found Maes leaning against the wall next to the closed door. "You are a pest, you know that?"

"I do my best."

Muttering something best left incoherent, Roy yanked the door open and stepped into the hall. Just as it slammed closed, he thought he heard: Get yourself a wife!

He stood there for a moment, straightened his coat and then looked back at the closed door. Sighing, he opened it and looked into the room.

It was empty, as it had always been.

The last light of the day reflected off the rim of the empty drinking glass on his desk.

Slowly, the door was pulled closed and locked. Distant sounds drew his attention and he started toward the unseen commotion. Only a short distance down the corridor, he heard the happy yaps of Black Hayate just around the corner and the frustrated voice of the pup's mistress.

"Come back here!"

Around the corner, slipping and sliding on the recently waxed tile, came the black and white pup with legs flailing as he struggled for traction. Black Hayate barreled toward Mustang only to be scooped up with a startled yip. Happy yaps filled the air as Roy stared at the pup that wiggled with boundless energy, his tail wagging as fast as it could. Hayate strained until he could lap at Roy's chin.

A frustrated Hawkeye came racing around the corner. Her look melted to surprise as she just stood there staring at him and the pup. "Sir?"

Handing the pup to her, Roy said, "I think you lost this."

Black Hayate yipped and happily licked the side of Hawkeye's face as she cradled him in loving arms. "Thank you, Sir. I don't know what got into him. He is usually better behaved than this."

He looked her over briefly and noted she still wore her uniform, her black coat slung over her shoulders, though he admitted there were few times that he had seen her in anything but standard issue blues. Her dark amber eyes shined with a rare happiness as she hugged the excited pup.

Amber, just like the drink that he had hoped would take away the pain.

He also noted there was no sign of paperwork on her person. After a few moments, they fell into an even pace as they headed for the side exit. Roy allowed a smile as he spoke, "I was recently reminded of a little place called Thanet."

"Thanet?" Hawkeye asked, sounding almost nervous as she cradled the pup in her arms like a happy infant.

"Yes, Thanet. Except, all I remember is the sticky floor of a tavern."

"The floor?" Hawkeye repeated, though kept her gaze focused on the wiggling ball of fur as she walked.

"Yes, the floor." He kept his pace slow and steady so not to allow her to fall into her usual position a step behind him, as was custom. "Aren't you going to ask me how I got there?"

"Um, well, Sir, about that…"