knowledge of Fullmetal Alchemist is required for this story and it helps to have seen the last episode of the entire show.

HUGE SPOILERS! THIS WHOLE STORY ISA SPOILER IF YOU HAVEN'T SEEN THE LAST EPISODE OF FULLMETAL ALCHEMIST!

DISCLAIMER: I don't own Fullmetal Alchemist, its characters, logos, themes, automail, items, rights, etc. There are direct quotes in here, but I made this story up to bridge a gap.

OF THE RECOVERY OF ROY MUSTANG

Darkness.

Where am I? Have I ...died? I hear ...a voice.

"...talk to me!"

I'm sorry. I don't know how.

The Fuhrer is dead. I killed him. He wasn't human. Homunculus. The Ultimate Eye.

Why can't I wake up?

I feel very weak. Oh! I can feel! I can feel pain. Ugh, do I want to feel again? Damn, it hurts. It hurts to breathe.

"Mustang?"

Hey, that's my name.

"Roy Mustang?"

I hear you. I hear you. Don't you know that? I'll try to answer you.

"Who...?" Pain.

"Roy, you can hear me?"

I nod my head. Bad idea! The left side of my face erupts like little fireworks of searing pain. I can't even grit my teeth because of my disabled left side.

"Please, don't do that again. For your safety, I will tell you the extent of you injuries."

At least the voice knows I'm listening.

"I can't say how everything happened because the two men who nearly killed you are dead..."

That's right. I killed Bradley. That nutcase Frank Archer shot me and that's when everything went black.

"...a close call. His sword punctured you above the heart and he tore many muscles and arteries in the process of giving you a painful death. There are other cuts elsewhere on your body, and although some of them were also deep, it's very strange that you lost surprisingly little blood from wounds of that nature.

"About your head, sir. It appears that Colonel Archer shot the left side of your face in several places. One was aimed for your eye. That would have had the potential to kill you from shock, but it looks like the bullet missed its target. I do deem there is more to this story. Perhaps he didn't shoot the other side of your face for a reason? Also, if he intended to kill you, I would imagine he would have aimed for the top of your head. Forgive me; it's really not my place, sir.

"I am sorry, sir, but we know for certain you will never see out of that eye again."

The voice went on to say that my left side will be very weak, and occasionally sore, for a couple of months due to my heart wound. I am informed my head injury will heal much quicker, and the reason I can't see is because there is a bandage around my head. I will most likely be bedridden for quite a while because my heart isn't strong enough to support me if I stood, much less walked. In a note of finality, the nurse (who I finally evaluated as a female) told me I am expected to make a full recovery, despite the severity of my situation. And my diet will consist of mushy things, thanks to my damaged jaw. If I can't feed myself, I have lost all of my dignity. But I am alive.

I have heard that automail surgery is intensely painful. There are adults who cower at thought of that pain. Rehabilitation is supposed to be very long, about a year to three years long. Quite metaphorical to my condition.

If Edward Elric can do it, I can too. After all, who am I to be shown up by some kid?

Oh, it's so bright! Today I open my eye for what feels like the first time in years.

I'm dressed in hospital clothes, but I can feel that I am still heavily bandaged underneath.

I see many cards on a bed stand and a few flowers, too. As I reach out with my right arm I notice it aches, but the pain has receded a bit. There are cards from my favorite officers, Second Lieutenant Breda, Warrant Officer Falman, Master Sergeant Fuery, and Second Lieutenant Havoc. Lieutenant Colonel Armstrong and his family, along with Maes Hughes' wife Gracia, have sent flowers. One get-well-wisher that touched me was Winry Rockbell and her grandmother, Pinako. It surprises me that they sent something because I am the reason Winry's parents died in the Ishvaran War. Their ill will must have abated.

There are many other letters from many other people, some whom I don't know. I guess the story about the corruption of the military got out. There are many "Thank you's!" and other displays of gratitude for what I did.

There is one disappointment. I found no card from Lieutenant Riza Hawkeye.

I stare out the window, recognizing from the view that I must be in the Central Military Hospital. It's been a while since I've been a patient here.

Suddenly, I get that weird feeling someone is watching me. I have to turn all the way around to see that blind spot. Sitting on a chair is the First Lieutenant Riza Hawkeye. I know that hospital doors in this building are slightly heavy. If I didn't hear her come in, she must have been sitting there since before I woke up or maybe I'm going deaf.

"Hawkeye," I mustered.

"I hear you're expected to make a full recovery, General Mustang," she says, and to alleviate my confusion, "You've been voted by the military personnel to become the next Fuhrer President. Congratulations, your dream has come true."

Wow. That's stunning. Truly. "But…," I began.

"Please don't talk, sir. You're not well enough to argue. I just hope you don't really plan to change the dress code. You're going to lose a lot of respect from the female officers if you do that, sir."

That made me laugh. I couldn't stop for a while, even though I was sure my heart would fail. But I was finally the Fuhrer! It has been my dream ever since the Ishvaran War to become the Fuhrer. I wanted to stop the senseless fighting. When I learned the truth behind the corruption of the military, how the previous Fuhrer started wars just to assemble the Philosopher's Stone, I was determined to stop at nothing to attain my dream, or at least to crumble the leadership into nothing. Brigadier General Maes Hughes and my dear Hawkeye have helped me in this quest.

The laughing transformed abruptly into coughing, and then I finally got a hold of myself. I took a deep breath.

"You didn't write me or send me anything," I managed.

"Col—I mean General, sir," she spoke slowly, "I wanted to come in person."

"A telegram," I mused, "let's hear it."

"Sir, Colonel Archer was on his way to the Fuhrer's mansion when his car collided with ours. The guards mentioned they were taking me to Central for interrogations. He said something like "Have you seen Central?" We learned later it was damaged pretty badly, mostly because of Archer. Izumi Curtis' original damage to it is what set off Archer on a rampage to find her. She's the Elric's teacher by the way.

"Anyway, he continued toward the mansion, after firing at me and calling me a traitor."

Here she displayed for me a bullet wound on her upper right arm. She says it only grazed her. Then she began again.

"We didn't notice the Fuhrer's kid leave, but obviously he got there much faster than Archer did. I followed Archer, although he moved quickly with those mechanic attachments. I can only ask you to forgive me, sir, for not getting there sooner to protect you. I killed Archer, and as soon as he fell I could see you had fallen, too. I thought for sure you were dead, you lost so much blood."

Her eyes were filling with tears now. For some reason, there was a lump in my throat as well. I motioned for her to come closer, afraid that if I spoke above a whisper I would start crying.

"Riza," I said, and she and I both knew we very rarely called each other by first name, "it's not…your fault."

She laughed a bit, now crying, and joked, "I think you have a guardian angel, Roy. And it's most likely Maes Hughes."

That put a funny picture in my mind. I chuckled, thinking of Hughes saying, "I'll spare your life, only if you promise to go visit my daughter as often as you can! And be nice to my wife! Oh! I'll let you live if you promise to get a wife, okay? I mean, I can't very well let you live just so you can be Fuhrer, now can I?"

You jester, Hughes. Well, I'll get around to it. Just wait until I can walk by myself so I can go buy a ring.

I looked at Riza for a moment, sitting there on my bed. It suddenly occurred to me. "What time is it?"

"Sir, you've been sleeping for about a week, and this second week you've been regaining control over your body, sleeping on and off. It's no surprise; your body is highly anemic. Along with confronting blood loss, it's also working to heal your wounds. You've been talking a lot in your sleep."

Regaining control? "Please don't tell me… nevermind." I looked over at the various devices connected to me. Whatever.

"Now that your jaw has healed some, the doctors want to feed you tougher foods. They say exercising the jaw will help it recover faster. And now that you are more conscious, it will be easier for them."

"You mean easier for them to baby me? My right arm works pretty well."

"Roy Mustang, most foods require two hands to manipulate. You've lost a fair amount of weight and they want to help you before you die of something less noble than battle wounds."

"Well, if utilizing things helps heal them, why can't I just use both arms?"

"Sir, you can try, but don't push yourself. Maybe you don't know the true extent of your weakness?"

"Alright, Lieutenant, give me something to hold in my left hand."

She looked at me and said unceremoniously, "Just try moving your fingers first, sir."

It proved to be a tougher task than I had imagined. Upon seeing me strain to do this, Riza said with a pitying smile, "Do you believe me now, sir?"

"Hawkeye," I said, frustrated, "when I can move my arm and fingers with no effort, can you promise me that you will tell the doctors to give me some space?"

"Sir," she said bluntly, "why don't you ask them yourself?"

I suddenly felt devoid of energy.

"Riza, what happened to his boy?"

Hesitating, she finally answered, "He is dead, sir. Autopsy show it was related to suffocation. Was he choked, sir?"

I said yes, remembering the look on the Homunculus' face when he heard his son say he rescued something "precious" that belonged to Bradley from the fire.

"That clears it up, then. He was choked, and along with the smoke from the fire and when you fell on top of him after Archer shot you, he suffocated."

I will always be grateful for that kid. "That boy… held the key to defeating Bradley. His…remains…You make it sound like it was my fault he died." I didn't want to talk anymore. I was tired. I closed my eye. But Riza continued.

"Not at all, sir. Don't think that way. You look tired, but there's one last thing I want to discuss. Are you awake?"

"Yes."

"Good. It's about Archer. It's peculiar that he aimed only for your head. In Central, it appears he went insane, or maybe he was trying to destroy as much as he could." She mumbled what sounded like well, that's pretty much an insane act anyway.

"Back on the subject, as I said earlier, he claimed he was heading toward the mansion to protect the Fuhrer. It's just…" She looked away. "In the state of mind he was in…when I look back on it, I wonder why he didn't blow you to bits. He was firing pretty randomly in Central, anyhow. It contented him to just fire at your face, I guess."

I just had to make one last comment. "There are a few people who don't like seeing my face."

She looked at me for a minute, and then burst out laughing. It was like some bright song, sung by some bird heralding the ending of winter and the beginning of spring.

"Roy," she declared before leaving, "I know you're going to make a full recovery."