As a matter of self-preservation, a mean needs good friends or ardent enemies, for the former instruct and the latter take him to task.

-Diogenes

Chapter Two- Reminder

Central,1910

0315 hours

"Don't you think you've had enough?"

Roy ignored the familiar voice as he placed the glass to his lips and tipped his head back, enjoying the dull burn of the alcohol as it traveled down his throat. He'd been at the bar for hours, nursing drink after drink in the hopes of keeping the memories at bay. It was a change from the loneliness of his apartment. Tonight, he'd felt the need to be around people and the dark corners and anonymous faces of Madame Christmas's place was as good of a location as any. The faces reminded him that he wasn't alone. Alone wasn't good for him. Alone, he'd realized he wasn't as strong as his haughtiness had foolishly led him to believe.

Seconds had stood between him and oblivion.

The gun had felt heavy in his hand, the determination paramount, but the fear had outweighed it all.

Only his intervention had been his salvation.

Roy grimaced. That fear, although years separated, still influenced his every move. He didn't want to find himself in that same predicament; following, not leading. Destroying, not building. The blood on his hands, although invisible, wasn't completely gone. It remained a catalyst, a reminder that despite the obstacles he faced, he had a specific goal in mind.

Roy lifted his hand for another, "No, I do not think I've had enough."

"Mustang, it's nearly three-thirty in the morning. Don't you have work tomorrow?" The concern in the bartender's voice threw Roy momentarily but it was to be expected. Tony worked for his foster mother and as such, he knew all there was to know about the young Flame Alchemist. Although expected, he could've done without the distress.

"Last time I checked, Tony, I functioned very well as a grown man," Roy responded slickly. His words, although not sloppy ,were loose and judging by how heavy his limbs felt, his equilibrium was definitely off kilter. Briefly, he wondered how he was going to get home in this condition but he didn't worry .

He wasn't worried about anything at the moment.

"How about we cut it off, Roy." Roy chuckled under his breath and shook his head at the suggestion and finally lifted his sights to the woman standing behind the bar. Madame Christmas' voice brokered no argument but the softness of her dark eyes indicated that she was concerned.

"Let's compromise, s-shall we?" Ah, there it is. The slight slur was beginning. The alcohol had done its job. Bravo. "One more drink and I pay off my tab."

The softness in Chris' eyes disappeared as she leaned closer, "You're paying off the tab without the juice, Roy. It's time to go home."

Roy waved away the directive and laughed, "If not here then somewhere. I'm sh-sure that there are plenty more bars where this one came from." To emphasize the point, Roy moved to stand, his body toppling sloppily onto the bar. After a moment, he gained his bearings and tried again, this time, bracing himself with his hands.

"You're going to wish for death in the morning. And that's before Riza finds out about this little bender."

There was a hint of mirth in the older woman's voice that Roy decided he didn't like. So what, he'd had a few drinks. He was a grown man, a lieutenant colonel in the Amestrian Army. The goddamned Hero of Ishbal.

He chuckled darkly at that last one. It was Ishbal that got him into this mess in the first place.

That thought got him moving and to the surprise of everyone, including himself, he stood up fully and turned to face the door. He was determined to leave of his own merit and find a more willing establishment to continue to drown his sorrows. As he stumbled, he laughed out loud, turning his head to look back at Chris and Tony.

"No need to worry about me. I'm the great Flame Alchemist!" He pointed in the direction of the door. Sadly, it was the bathroom door but at this rate, Roy didn't give two thoughts about it. " The great Flame Alchemist will be taking his leave now."

He felt their eyes on his back as he weaved his way in the general direction of the exit, bumping into some of the tables haphazardly. He should've been ashamed and if he weren't drunk off his ass, he'd probably would've been. As it turned out however, he just didn't give a shit.

At Mustang's declaration Tony turned to Chris and asked, "You want the girls to prepare a room for him?"

"No."

It was a well known fact that as charismatic as Roy was, he had his fair share of enemies- enemies that were hell bent in deterring his forward trajectory. On his best day, he narrowly avoided the repercussions of his growing popularity. Caught displaying conduct unbecoming of an officer would be just the ammunition needed to sound the death knell to his dreams.

Which is why Chris dialed the number and waited, all the while watching as Roy stumbled through the bar, muttering apologies to empty chairs.

"Hello?"

"This is Madame Christmas. If you value the life of your friend, you'll come and get his drunk ass out of my establishment."

Roy huffed at Chris' directive, shouting, "I heard that!"

Pause. Exhale. Resignation.

"It's for your own good, Roy," Chris lamented as she looked up in time to see Roy tangling with the coat rack before passing out on the floor.

The great Flame Alchemist indeed.

-3 AM-

"Fancy meeting you here," Roy purred lazily as he placed his hand on the shoulder of his escort. He frowned as he inhaled, noting that the air was less pungent and cooler than it had been only seconds -or hours- it was hard to tell at the time. Still the same they continued at their lackadaisical pace, with Roy slipping his arm around her waist. Curiously, the body was solid, stood a good foot above him, lacking any warmth or lushness. And instead of the expected bouquet of flowers he'd normally associate with a woman, he caught a whiff of an overtly masculine scent, causing him to pause slightly.

The cooler breeze cleared his head minutely but not enough to where he'd become fully lucid. One thing he could ascertain was that the streets of Central were deserted and as he lifted his head toward the sky, the bright moon's position told him it was very early- or late, depending on one's perspective. The only sound was the soft shuffle of footfalls against the concrete, giving the air a sense of peace. It was eerie considering how he'd spent his night. Self medicating in preparation for the future. Even though he'd returned from Ishbal a broken man, he knew how to maintain. Suffer in silence. Deal with the regrets internally. It was his only plan on how to move forward.

Which, of course was a load of bullshit.

The self persecution was an endless abyss of darkness, darkness he could only handle if properly numbed. He'd taken to alcohol fairly easy and on his darkest of nights, he sealed himself away in his apartment and battled with the shadows of the past, a bottle of whiskey as his only respite. His flame alchemy, his greatest weapon, was useless, and yet his arrogance wouldn't allow him to cast it away completely. All of the struggles, the cries of despair, the blood...All of it remained a footnote to his ambition.

Hero.

Right.

Pulling himself out of the shadows of his mind, he frowned, "You know, you smell funny to be a woman."

They started off again, his gait unbalanced. He listed to the right, his shoulder skimming the roughened patches of a stone, snagging the material of his uniform. A firm grip and pulled him away. Roy shrugged: So his escort was the strong type. It wouldn't have been the first time.

"Clever, lover boy. Nothing says attraction more than the scent of a liquor still."

Wait a minute.

Although extremely inebriated, Roy recognized the voice almost immediately and just as quickly fumbled to distance himself from the man. Colliding with the stoned walls of an adjacent building, Roy ran his hand over his face and shook his head, attempting to clear away the alcohol induced fog. He lifted his eyes to meet the piercing green, almost diabolical gaze of one Maes Hughes. Catching the snicker that escaped Hughes' lips, Roy closed his eyes. Of all the people he didn't want to see him like this, Maes ranked right up there with Riza Hawkeye.

On second thought, Hawkeye would've been preferable.

Roy slumped against the stone facade and exhaled harshly, " I know I'm going to regret this later, but what are you doing here, Maes?"

A soft chuckle filled the air between them as his best friend answered, "I told you, I'll back you a hundred percent, Roy. If this means saving you from making an complete ass of yourself, so be it." Maes hoisted Roy up again, straightening him out more as they started walking, "So, Lieutenant Colonel ,do you have any idea what time it is?"

The facetious tone wasn't lost on Roy and he grinned as he turned his head toward Maes, breathing heavily, "If I was interrupting anything between you and Gracia, good. I shouldn't be the only one suffering tonight."

"Cheeky bastard." Maes shoved Roy's cheek, diverting the putrid fumes of the alcohol, "Unlike you, Roy, us regular folks were fast asleep."

They ambled along in contented silence, the words unspoken giving full meaning to the present situation. Roy could feel Maes' gaze on him, his concern condemning him anew. He was a jerk of the highest degree, drowning himself in alcohol, refusing to face the future with renewed strength, while Maes remained steadfast. In the wake of that revelation, Roy's drunken temerity decreased exponentially. If anything, he should've been lauding the guy; after all of the destruction and soul searing depictions of human depravity that Maes had endured, he'd come home, fully prepared to keep living. He'd stayed true to the declaration of being the type of man whom Gracia could trust, love. War, although life altering, wouldn't change Maes Hughes.

It's why Roy felt as if he were the weakest between the two. Sure, he'd played political hardball and made rank quickly but Maes' aspirations were just as arrogant as his was. Maes operated in the background, only believing in Roy, believing in the intense fire that simmered just beneath the surface that brought about change. Maes believed that Roy could deliver on his word, not just offer up empty promises.

And here he was, proving his best friend wrong on so many levels.

Anger pulsated through Roy as he struggled to free himself from Maes' grip, his ire lending more to his increased lucidity than a cup of coffee ever would. He stopped moving and cast his gaze downward, the shame that should've been present hours ago, now making an appearance.

"I- I'm sorry, Maes." The words, although sincere, tasted like dirt in his mouth. The more he thought of his pitiful appearance in front of Maes, the more he felt the need to throttle something. If he'd had his ignition gloves, the land would've been alive with his vengeful flames. Here he stood, in front of the strongest man he'd had the honor of knowing, drunk and wallowing in self-pity, knowing his actions, his decisions had placed him exactly where he wanted to be.

It was pathetic.

Maes exhaled lightly and placed a warm hand on his shoulder, squeezing it affectionately, "We're all human, Roy. We make mistakes, we learn from them. We get stronger." Maes paused briefly, meeting Roy's gaze head on, " We lean on those we care for and love."

Roy clenched his fists tightly, "I feel like our roles should be reversed. You're the strongest of us, Maes. You're focused, you're trustworthy..."

"...And I'm a liability," Maes interrupted. Maes averted his eyes briefly before looking back up at his most trusted friend, "My goal isn't to change this world, Roy. My goal is to be the best man I can be for my Gracia. I trust you to take up the mantle and make Amestris whole again."

"That's a lot of ill placed trust, Major Hughes."

Maes huffed, " That is the alcohol talking, Lieutenant Colonel Mustang."

Roy stared at his best friend and felt his lips turn up in a smile. The truth was in Maes' gaze. The trust was humbling, shattering the arrogant hubris he'd so desperately grasped in the wake of Ishbal. If Maes' silent strength was his greatest support, there was truly nothing that could stop him.

That revelation cleared the last vestiges of self-pity and he felt more like himself again, "It still burns that I made rank faster than you doesn't it?"

"Clever choice of words, Flame Alchemist." Maes slipped his hands in the pockets of his trousers and looked forward, "I'm taking my time." He took a step and glanced back, "With all that you're about to get into, it's not going to take me long to pass you up on my way to Brigadier General."

Roy took a tentative step and flanked Maes, chuckling, "Brigadier General, huh? Lofty ambitions for the head of Investigations."

"Have to be lofty," Maes offered as he cast his eyes sideways, "considering I'm going to be a father."

"Oh, here we go," Roy grumbled affectionately. He knew what was coming next...

"She's going to be the cutest baby ever, Roy! Just look at my lovely Gracia. How could my little girl not be as beautiful as her mother..."

"Funny, you know the baby's going to be a little girl." Roy shook his head slightly, "I'm glad I have you and your divining powers on my side."

"There's no reason for us not to have a beautiful little girl, Roy. Just think about it, Gracia, our little girl, and you with your family..."

Roy frowned and started to walk off. When Maes went off on his ludicrous tangents about marriage and family, Roy turned a deaf ear. He appreciated that his best friend had good intentions but his focus, his motivation was looking forward to the birth of a new nation.

He could only thank his best friend for that reminder.

A/N: I realized I forgot to mention a few things in the beginning: One, this is a series of one shots. Two, depending on the subject matter ( which will most likely be angst) the rating will go up. Three, I'll take from both FMA and FMA: Brotherhood ( as well as the OVAs involved) as they inspire me. Oh, and there will be at least two more chapters. Feel free to leave your thoughts!

-Speed