Private Roy mustang found himself staring into the flames flickering in the fire place with deep thoughts, thoughts due to a particular dream that woke him up earlier. A nightmare that hunted him for the past few months, scenes that we getting clearer every single time he falls asleep. King Bradley's son, Maes and the people of Ishval standing around him, 'why did we die?' they would ask him for hours until he could wake up, young selim crying continuously over King Bradley's lifeless body, Maes hugging his daughter with a sad expression on his face and the numerous amount of Ishvalans standing with their family and their people, the person and persons that he had murdered during the war. He had no answer for them, for weeks; they stood over him whispering; pouring their pain and agony into Mustang. He would wake up in the middle of coldness in shock, only to realize that it was the wind murmuring through the wooden house he lived in. All the souls that he could not save torture his soul…

The fire wood cackled furiously and Roy blinked in slight shock, surprised that he was still standing over the fire place, the last of the flame extinguished leaving a trail of smoke rising from the sad dark wood, Roy threw his trembling fingers into his pocket and extracted a match box, it was a simple maroon colored one; there was nothing exquisite about its appearance however it was a precious item, Roy pulled out a match and started to light a small fire, how did it come to this; the flame alchemist then have to go to the extent of getting a fire started using a match stick instead of his famous snapping fingers.

Roy placed the small flame to new dry wood; the vivacious flame spread gently onto its new playground, lighting up the cabin and providing warmth. He laid back into the chair and heaved a deep breath, Night mares that would not leave his being no matter how much he tried to take his mind off them; they were still there as though they were constant reminders of his failure. All that frustration and sadness under the dark eye patch he now wore, the reasons that he left Central, his team and her. Edward Elric, a side track of mischief and chaos; an alchemist as well as a friend disappeared leaving a mystery and his only younger brother who was in flesh, bone and blood, with no memories of their adventures in the east and central. Maybe if he had settled with his end quickly, was there a chance that he might be able to turn things around…? Could it be that he too was…his failure…

Roy jumped up from his seat disturbed from his thoughts, Edward is not dead; he knows it, that boy must still be alive or otherwise… he would probably in his dream too. He walked towards the window and peered out, blankets and blankets of pure white snow greeted him. Scenery that he found peaceful and clean, there was no difference between here and Amestris, the only difference he felt was the presence of those. Roy glanced to his right where a table stood; and on the wooden walnut desk were letters scattered over the surface, each bearing the hand writing he knew so well. And it was these that caused the emptiness; he picked one from the top which was the most recent; with a heavy heart, he reads.

To: Roy Mustang.

It has been five months, how have you been?

Nothing of much interest happened in the past few weeks

The team is concerned of your well being; hearing that you had taken ill last week; they seemed to be reassured after seeing your most recent letter.

Hope you are well, take care.

Riza Hawkeye

It was just like her to keep her letters short and to the point, devoid of most personal feelings was a specialty of hers. The only hint of near personal was the part she kept in check how long he had left central and indeed it had been exactly five months. As though she had been keeping time; Roy placed the letter back into its envelope and walked away from it, he was indeed ill last week; a severe cold unexpected from his freezing environment with fever lasting for days; usually back in his office days, he would try his best to keep that a secret from his company however he actually wrote truthfully in one of his letters prior to this that he was sick. What was he thinking, it was as though he was trying to score for pity points but there was nothing to score out here, he was the one who chose to live in solitude away from the town and city below, even further from the people he were close to.

Roy smirked but drops the expression rather quickly, yes; he was the one who decided to leave everything behind him and only guilt followed him to his secluded home. Guilt that consumed him and his thoughts every single night when he rest in his bed, those ghostly persons in his dreams that hunts him with cries.

But yet, his nightmares became a different one the night before, the usual guilt did not appear and there were no words, as though he was sitting in a silent movie. He was walking down a familiar road in Central city next to a calm river, when he saw her standing in front of him; her dressing similar to the ones she wore when she sent him off in a train half a year ago. She appeared to be saying something, things that he could not hear. She refused to be close to him, standing several feet away. What bothered him the most was the fact that there were tears flowing down her face, it was an expression that he never saw her wear before. Something was very wrong, but no matter how much he tried running towards her, he never reached her. Roy woke up to hurried knocks on his door, only to realize that his arms were out stretched and in the air space above him, an action as though he was trying to reach someone.

He ditched his nightmare and panicked sweat aside, took quick stepped to the door. Who would come up here, at the crack of dawn? He pulled open the door letting accumulated snow fall to his feet, "I see you are very much well." said a voice and the person saying it; whom he had not seen for half a year appear in front of him.. "Grumman!"

"I need to speak to you; can we take the conversation inside?" Grumman said ignoring Roy's surprised tone, he let himself into the wooden house and Roy followed him. The older man stood over the desk full of letters, handwriting that he recognized as his grand daughters', he had a solemn expression. Roy lingered around his bed, what did he do now? Roy waited with battered breath, "Someone is trying to sabotage the council position." Grumman threw out his words plainly, his old wrinkled hands wringing each other nervously, Roy stared, Grumman knew that he was not going to be involved in central affairs any longer so what was he playing at, telling him news such as this?

Grumman observed the face Roy was making, a poker face as usual, he remembered the boy telling him that he was washing his hands off Amestris, and how he wished that Roy could actually stay out of the issue but it was not to be. The older placed an envelope on the table, it was a large brown one, 'This contains everything you need to know, I suggest that you burn this away when you are finished with it' he said calmly, he stride pass Roy without taking a look at him.

"Why?" Roy heard himself ask, Grumman paused and sighed deeply or rather helplessly. "Why you?" he replied coldly. The man spun around and met those dark eyes, "Marcon, even though we have no much evidence that he was involved in the recent assassination of seven council members, he was caught having contact with the assassinators but was released due to lack to support of evidence." Roy eyes narrowed, "General Marcon? The General who was brought to court?" He heard that name before, weeks before he left central, there was a huge commotion in central due to this particular assassination. And General Marcon was said to be involved.

"The very same" Grumman replied with a softer tone, and before Roy to ask further "The very same man who is in charge of your team this very moment after you left." Roy felt himself quake a little, "My team?"

"She is in danger, if he finds out the connection between her and me…"