TheFerryman'sDaughter - Thanks. Glad you enjoyed Hughes. There will be plenty more. Roy-Fan-33 - Roy will live. For your warning, it's a nice, easy little posty today. (You'll need the break.) Reius Devirix - "Abrupt ending style" I like that description. :) Usually I just get yelled at for leaving readers hanging off a cliff without bungee cords. vefa - No worries! Thank you so much and I hope you continue to enjoy them. Miss Mustang - Thanks! Hope this is quick enough.

Thanks for all the kind replies everyone.

Living Circles

The Past

The dog-eared pages of a well-worn journal were covered in sketched arrays and scribbled, often barely legible, notes. Some were serious, with bits of coded information worked in and around the images. Others were sad caricatures of a fractured mind. Arrays that served no real purpose save to take up space, but would confuse the uninitiated were they the opportunity to peruse his alchemic notes.

For that reason alone, Roy allowed such dalliances. Though some days, he could not tell the difference between the serious and meaningless. They all seemed to blend together into a jumble of unincorporated thoughts.

While many of the pages did carry his fire alchemy studies, many of the serious arrays were often of disparate theme. There were transmutation circles for altering stone, rebuilding a broken clock and various plant growth and cultivation arrays. Those last ones were only partial sketches, painfully incomplete, made from fading memories of childhood.

Mostly, the journal held the secrets of various arrays designed to capture and control fire. Though he rarely called upon the different designs, they were part of his alchemic arsenal. As a general rule, he did not need anything extraordinarily fancy. The simple array he used on a daily basis was all he really needed; it had proved long ago to be suitable in most applications.

It took no flourishes to set things on fire. He had proven that time and again during the Ishbal Rebellion.

A firm rap on the front door of his apartment broke Roy's concentration. He sighed and let the pencil drop but did not pull his gaze away from the smudged drawings on the open book. After a few moments, a louder knock was heard.

Yawning, he leaned back in his chair and studied the desk, piled high with old tomes on either side of the journal. He really should clean. The place was looking rather dusty. He just did not have the energy for it.

The door and half the apartment shook, as the knocks became pounds. "Open the damn door!" a voice barked from the other side.

Sighing heavily, Roy pushed himself out of the wooden chair. It squeaked irritably as he straightened. Muscles had tightened from the long hours sitting and staring at the journal and nearly refused to obey his command to walk across the room. He rubbed the back of his neck slightly as he undid the chain and unlocked the door.

Like a burst of sunshine, Maes Hughes appeared in narrow opening. "About time you decided to wake up."

"I've been awake," Roy said tiredly.

Maes was beaming, positively glowing, as he held up two dark brown liquor bottles. "Drink?"

Roy just looked at him.

"You've never turned down a drink," he said, pressing his shoulder against the door and shoving his way in. He nearly stumbled when Roy let go and allowed the door to fly all the way open.

"Please, come in," the shorter man said dryly after Maes had already pushed some books to the side and made himself comfortable on the couch. He sighed and closed the door. "I'm not busy."

"You're scribbling in that notebook again."

"Exactly."

Remaining seated with his back to Roy, Maes pushed more books off the small coffee table between the couch and a single chair opposite. One of the tall bottles was set firmly down with a thump as he drew the other one close. "You need to get out. Smell the fresh air, get a life outside of work."

"I don't feel like."

As if by magic, a small knife appeared in Maes' hand. He used it to pry at the cork in the bottle. "Yeah, well, you know as well as I do, sometimes you have to do things you don't feel like doing."

The words brought a frown.

"So, are you going to provide glasses or should we just drink straight out of the bottles?" Before Maes had finished, he pried the cork out and took a swig. He shook his head trying to recover. "That'll wake you up in the morning."

"Or put you out for the night."

"You haven't congratulated me yet."

"For what?" Roy just stared curiously at the back of his friend's head.

Shifting around on the couch, Maes threw his arm over the back and stared at Roy with no small amount of surprise.

"Where have you been lately?" He capped off the question with another swig. "I mean I've talked about it for weeks!"

"You proposed."

"Yes, sir!" Maes happily replied. "And Gracia said yes." He did a little dance from his seat on the couch. "Glasses, Roy." He took another swig.

Heading toward the kitchenette, Roy said, "If I wait long enough, you'll have drank the entire bottle and won't need a glass."

"I brought two bottles. Can't have enough libations." Maes raised an eyebrow as he watched Roy rub the back of his neck as he walked across the small apartment. "Try not to look too excited."

"Sorry, I'm just—"

"Tired. Yeah, I can tell by the circles under your eyes." He glanced about the apartment while Roy's back was to him. The place had definitely seen better days. Again, he caught Roy rubbing the back of his neck and surmised that he was sleeping at the desk. If indeed he was sleeping at all.

Glancing out the partially shaded windows, he could see the clouds boiling in the sky above. Setting the open bottle in the clearing he had made on the coffee table, he got up and walked over to the window. Drops of rain were lightly tapping against the glass.

Shifting his attention to the desk, piled high with worn volumes of alchemic studies, he looked over the names but little of it meant anything to him. Reaching for a small book, that looked to have fallen from one of the stacks, he picked it up. The edges of the red cloth cover were ragged and threads hung from the spine. Holding the book closed, he could see a small separation in the binding and carefully opened it to that spot. He scanned the writings but all the alchemical comments were beyond him. The only thing he was sure of was the words human transmutation. The whole thing made him shiver and he let the book fall back into its place just as Roy returned with two glasses.

"My least favorite weather," Roy mused out loud as he set the glasses down.

Maes slapped the shorter man across the back, nearly winding him. "Doesn't matter. In a short time, you'll be too drunk to care." He reached for the glasses and noted the sickly, withered looking aloe plant teetering on the edge of the table. He blinked a few times and shook his head. "Why do you keep torturing that poor thing?"

Surprise briefly lit Roy's obsidian eyes as he shifted to study the mostly dead plant. He fingered a limp leaf almost affectionately. "I forget to water it," he replied.

It was the same excuse Maes had heard for several years. Ever since the first time he saw the sad little plant sitting on the footlocker inside Roy's tent during the Ishbal campaign. Back then he had thought it was a miracle that the desert had not killed it.

Picking up the glasses, Roy absently handed them off toward Maes. Had it not been for a quick hand, they would have tumbled to the floor. The few books on the table were stacked on the towers of volumes on the desk. Maes' eyes widened as he saw a large transmutation circle scored into the wooden top. It was starkly different than the one sewn into the Flame Alchemist's gloves. This one had plant leaves drawn into the interlinking circles in the center.

Curiosity clutched him as Roy pushed the potted plant to the center and activated the array. The plant glowed at the heart of the alchemic reaction and as the light faded, it looked…a little less withered than before.

Roy just stared at it for a short and then sighed. Pulling the glasses from Maes' grip, he carried them over to the chair where he sat down and placed the glasses on two piles of books in the middle of the coffee table.

For a moment, Maes just stared at the plant sitting in the middle of the circle. He knew there were alchemists who could do magical things with plants and wondered if it was a particular talent as opposed to something that could be learned. "Have you spoken to your parents?" he asked as he scooped up the pot and carried it to a window.

Behind him, Roy laughed. "Not since I decided to become a State Alchemist."

Pushing up the window, Maes leaned out and set the plant on the fire escape so it could get some of the fresh rain and eventual sunlight it looked to be starving for. "I doubt they would be holding a grudge after this long."

Roy motioned toward the open window. "You don't know them. Hell, even Fred hates me."

Looking out at the half dead vegetation, Maes smiled. "Fred's a plant."

"Says you."

The words brought a curious look over Maes' shoulder, but Roy was staring off toward the front door. He looked around, wondering if the man had taken to drinking alone but saw no signs of liquor save for what he brought. "You know, Fred would probably like you a lot more if you watered it and gave it more sunshine than that dark corner it sits in all day." Sliding the window closed, he returned to the small space he had made earlier on the couch and sat down.

Taking up the opened bottle, he filled the two glasses with more than generous portions and handed one off to his friend. He downed his glassful and filled it up again before handing Roy the other one. "Drink up, we're celebrating."

"Yes, congratulations," Roy said with a smile as he quickly emptied his glass and held it out for refill.

"Now all we need to do is get you cleaned up and find you a good wife."

"Hughes."