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Disclaimer: I do not own this series or it's characters, and I make no money off of this. This wonderful series belongs solely to it's creators and I'm just a useless mortal daring to borrow them.
Warnings: Various spoilers mostly for Roy's past. Oh yeah, and a big AU for making up the past not given to us in episodes.
Notes: Roy ahead! This started off simply enough as a 'one thing- two sides' type fic. I just got it into my head; 'He remembers-' and 'He doesn't remember.' Then it decided to grow on me. It grew in a way that made it hard to keep the two sides thing going, but refused to make sense without it. Or it could just be my inability to write anything longer than a short scene looking for validation. Forgive me for the vagueness of the academy part, I have nothing to compare it to. And I'm still struggling with the rank structure in this series. While you're forgiving, forgive the completely unoriginal title. I suck at naming things.
The Dawn of Man by fairady
He remembers his first clear memory.
Loud music played through the streets and Roy laughed as his Daddy swung him up onto his shoulders. From his new vantage point he could see more of the fair.
"Do you see her?" Daddy asked as he slowly spun around.
"Um," looking away from the candy tent Roy looked around for his Mommy's blue dress. He saw it after the second turn. "There!"
"All right, hold on," Daddy said before plunging into the big crowd on the street.
Roy clutched at Daddy's hands and looked at the tents they passed. Something flashed bright and red to the side, "Daddy, can we look at the toys?"
"We need to get your mother first," Roy giggled as he was playfully bounced around. "Don't you remember? Daddy doesn't have anymore money because a certain someone used it all to eat a bunch of candy."
"You ate candy too!" Roy shrieked indignantly. "I didn't eat it all by myself!"
Daddy chuckled and swung him down onto the ground. "You could have if I'd let you."
"Could have what?" Mommy smiled and bent down to scrub at Roy's face. Roy screwed his face up and tried to back away, but she wouldn't let him go. "Hold still Roy. We're going to have to hurry if we want to make the next show."
Roy rubbed at his face as Mommy finally let go of him, "I want to look at the toys."
"We will, after the show," Mommy said as she held his hand.
"What show?" Roy swung their hands and reached out for Daddy's.
"An alchemy show," Daddy held his free hand.
"Ok," Roy walked swinging their hands. First going the same direction, and then going the opposite. "What's a 'alchemy?'"
"It's magic," Mommy said as she traded money for tickets.
"Really?" Roy asked in awe.
"Well..," Daddy coughed slightly and rubbed his stomach. Mommy smiled at him. "Sure, Roy. It's really magic."
To his face at least. Roy had overheard many jokes about him when no one noticed him around. He frankly would have preferred being teased to being talked about behind his back.
The librarian smiled down at him as he entered the building, and Roy smiled back. The woman had been charmed by the young boy studying alchemy, and often let him get away with taking more books than was allowed. Roy actively encouraged her by being as nice and cute as he could stand being.
The library was nearly empty and he had no trouble getting his favorite table in the back corner. Dropping his bag he set off to find what he needed. Twenty minutes later Roy was back at the table trying to make due with two of the five books he'd wanted. A question to the librarian had revealed that a local alchemist had taken the others out and wasn't due to return them for another week.
Roy scowled. He needed those books to become an alchemist.
Technically Roy already was an alchemist. He could create, use, and understand most Arrays. He could look at an item, name it's components, and be able to transmute it into at least two other things. He knew the history of alchemy, and knew the knowledge hidden in books like only an alchemist could.
Still Roy did not consider himself a real alchemist. All he'd done was copy what hundreds of others had already done. A real alchemist studied the world and tried to find new theories or experiments to conduct. A real alchemist would be remembered through his work.
He wanted to do something new, something that would forever be connected with his name. His project. He had decided to keep it simple and basic. The Elements.
It was surprising how little work had been done focusing on the four elements. Then again he wasn't very surprised at all. The four elements of earth, air, fire, and water were more along the lines of spiritual magic, and alchemy, as a science, scoffed at it. Which irritated Roy to no end. Just because something was considered mystical didn't mean it could not be examined by science.
Roy flipped through his notes and wondered if it would do him any good to stay longer in the library. Deciding he had what he needed he left and started home.
He wanted to be able to control the Elements, and just the Elements. Many alchemists often used all four Elements, but only in conjunction with something else. Their goal wasn't in using the Elements it was in something else. Roy thought that if he concentrated on only the Elements he could open up a path to new studies.
Or older studies as Roy wasn't entirely convinced the old myths of powerful sorcerers weren't just people's embellishment of an alchemic reaction.
In order to control the Elements Roy knew he had to first truly understand them. Creating them and using them to another goal was simple, but creating only an Element and controlling it promised to be more challenging. The books he had wanted were the only ones he could find that detailed the Elements in both scientific as well as mystical terms. The two he had were most detailed about the Element of Fire.
It was as good a place to start as any.
Logically it would be the easiest to know. For fire to exist it needed oxygen, fuel, and friction. It is heat and has the power to break down other substances and create new ones. Of the Elements it was the most feared because of it's potential to devastate.
Roy let himself into his house and ran to his room. He still had a few hours before his parents returned, and he wanted to try a little experiment on his own.
It opens up a new door in his research. One which, in his overconfidence, he'd ignored. Fire needed oxygen to exist. The Element of Air. It's possible that in concentrating on only the fire he'd ignored controlling everything else. Hence the current disaster.
The questions are uncomfortable and Roy feels more than a little afraid of the men asking them. A few police officers and some soldiers. Roy doesn't need to see the chain coming from one's pocket to know they're State Alchemists. They've been asking him the most detailed questions. What did he do, how did he do it, what books did he read, did he have copies of his notes. They never ask him why he did it.
He tells them some of the truth. He doesn't remember what he did, or how he did it. Mostly he just lies to them. No, he doesn't remember what he wanted to do. The last thing he remembers was going to school earlier that morning. He must have decided to do whatever he did later in the day. All of his possessions were now ashes, how could he have copies of his notes?
Roy protects his research with a possessive pride. He'd be damned if some other alchemist stole his work for their own. He continues to answer their increasingly angered questions with the same lines. The police have long since gotten what they wanted and are anxious to leave. One of them interferes when it looks like one very irate alchemist is about to touch Roy.
Roy has only a few minutes to feel relieved before his parents come in. He isn't sure what is worse. Dealing with the State Alchemists, or listening to his mother cry.
Roy would have been more angry by the government's actions if he didn't think it was a good idea. His acceptance of it had stopped his father in mid-rant.
The Academy was located ten miles out of the city, and all of it's students lived on campus. His room and courses had already been taken care of by the time he arrived. All basic level classes and rudimentary alchemy, utterly boring. They'd assured him he'd get to pick his next courses, but only when they had a better understanding of what he knew.
Something they were probably regretting now. Roy watched the rainbow colored foam bubble out of the fountain in the main courtyard. He was particularly proud of this foam, the different colors remained bright and separate. His previous attempts had always ended with the colors running together in a bland gray color.
Roy was never one to remain bored for long if he could help it.
"That is a vast improvement," Maes Hughes whistled as he looked out the window. A few instructors were trying to find the valve to shut the fountain's water off. "Now that you've succeeded what will you do next?"
"I'm not really sure," Roy shrugged. Maes had caught him the first time he'd tried his foam out. Roy had promptly 'found' a stash of risque photos in Maes' room. The two had become fast friends. "I'll think about it for a few days."
"Hmm, how about the cafeteria?"
"No way," Roy shuddered. "It's too dangerous to transmute something if you don't know what's in it."
"It can't be any worse than what they already serve," Maes yawned and stretched his arms backwards, conveniently knocking back a couple of students trying to look out the window. "Girl's wing?"
Roy ignored his friend's hopeful look, "I refuse to help your career as a stalker."
"That's because you're a cold hearted bastard with no hormones," Maes scowled at him.
"Oh, you wound me," Roy said in a monotonous voice.
The hall was quickly filling up with curious students. They pushed through the crowd and headed towards less populated areas. The friends walked in silence, both lost in thought.
"Oh," Maes grinned widely and glanced at his companion. "Have you heard the rumors about the East wing?"
"The-" Roy frowned slightly as he thought. There were a lot of rumors about every dormitory wing. "You mean the one about a ghost?"
"Yep!"
Their matching grins made a passing instructor stop to watch them suspiciously.
He'd done it. It had taken him five years of secretive study and experimentation to finally get it right. He wanted to laugh and dance and pretty much act like a complete fool. The only thing that kept him from doing so was that he might wake his roommate, and Roy didn't feel like dealing with the stupid bastard and his phobias.
It wasn't like Roy had meant to set his bed on fire. He'd just really, really wanted to and the fire had apparently responded to his subconsciousness. It's not like he was hurt by it. Much.
He needed to get out.
Slowly closing his hand he felt the flame extinguish. He quietly gathered up all his equipment into a bag and slipped out of his room. The halls of the academy were dark and silent. Most of the curfew violators were in bed by midnight. The few sweeps that were done at night were often noisy and easily avoided.
So he was very surprised when a hand shot out of a shadow and dragged him into a side hallway.
"Wh-?" Roy's voice was muffled as a strong hand clamped tightly over his mouth. He stared angrily up into laughing green eyes. Maes pressed one finger tightly against his lips before slowly removing his hand from Roy's face.
Roy frowned at his friend but stayed silent as the other student glanced out of their shadowed spot. Maes stayed absolutely still and silent for a few more minutes before slowly pulling himself back into the shadows. His eyes had a bright manic gleam to them and his lips pulled back in a stupid grin that showed all of his teeth.
Roy winced and pitied.
A soft scuff was all the warning the trio of girls got before Maes exploded from the shadows and dropped to his knees in front of the short brunette. Leed, Roy recalled her name as they all shrieked.
"Alma! My beautiful love, the bright silver moon is humbled by your presence. Just as I, your humble servant, am ever humbled by your divinity," Maes grabbed the scarlet faced girl's hand in both of his, ignoring her frantic attempts to reclaim it. "The angels must have wept bitter tears to deliver something as gorgeous and innocent as you into this crude, bleak world. But despite their pain I will be forever grateful for the bright light you are in my bleak world! For I would be nothing more than a cold, lonely corpse were it not for the life giving radiance of your pure soul. I cannot imagine the torturous hell my mortal days would have been were it not for you. Alma, my guiding star to the paradise I can only find with you..."
When left to his own devices Maes could go on for hours. Which while quite amusing to watch wasn't something Roy had the stomach or patience for right then. Sooner or later someone would come to investigate all the noise being made. Roy didn't really want the punishment that came with breaking curfew. Not when he'd been so successful in avoiding it.
Striding into the hall Roy grabbed the lobe of his friend's ear and twisted. Maes' deluge of love confessions ended with a pained yelp and he futilely tried to get away. Leed's two friends glared murderously at him as they took the opportunity to run.
"What the hell was that for?" Maes loudly demanded as soon as Roy released him.
"For making too much noise," Roy glanced down the halls for any sign of a sweep before starting to walk away. "You would've gotten us all into trouble."
"Oh," the stricken look on his face didn't fool Roy for a second. "I would never want my love to get into trouble."
Roy looked back at his friend and smirked. "Since when have you liked, Leed? I thought you were still pining after Saunda," the glazed expression that flitted across Maes' face confirmed Roy's suspicions. "You're patrolling the halls at night."
Chagrin chased the daze away and Maes shrugged philosophically, "It's part of my course. It's pretty interesting who I see and where I see them go. More importantly," he added with a wicked grin and a subtle nod towards the hall the girls had taken, "who I see them going with."
It took Roy a few seconds to wrap his mind around the full implications of that statement, and it took him several minutes to restart it after it crashed in the gutter. Maes whistled a cheery tune as he kept Roy from crashing into anything solid.
He'd been too busy studying. Studying for the final exams for the Academy, studying for his final exam as an alchemist. Not that Roy was really worried. He knew it wouldn't matter how well he did on his examination to become a National Alchemist. His specialty pretty much guaranteed him the military would give it to him, the fact that he actually wanted to be an officer as well was probably just icing for them. It was just a matter of pride for himself that made him study.
It gave him just enough time to pack and say good-bye.
The news, to put it lightly, hadn't gone over very well with his parents. His mother had spent the time crying into his shoulder, making him promise not to do anything stupid. Roy could only nod and hold her loosely. He was shocked to realize just how small she was, how old she looked. His father stood to the side, saying nothing but blinking back his own tears.
It was almost a relief when his father gently took his wife and lead her out of the train station. Roy felt an immediate pang of loss when they disappeared into the crowd.
"Hey," Maes appeared next to him, or he might have been next to him for a while. It was hard to tell sometimes.
"Hey," Roy smiled slightly at his friend. "I thought you had a date to beg for."
"Nah, some things are more important," Maes shrugged lightly. "Besides I wanted to make sure you don't do anything stupid out there. It'll be at least a month before I can be there to bail your sorry butt out of trouble."
"Trouble?" Roy looked up at Maes with his most innocent face.
"Stop it," Maes laughed. "Every time you do that I expect the police to start asking questions."
A sharp voice rose above then din of the station calling for boarding. Roy grabbed his bag and Maes helped him lug his trunk into the train. His position afforded him a compartment with one other alchemist. The older man smiled at the two young men before returning to his book.
"Well," Maes clapped him on the back. "I'll see you in a bit, and it better not be at the wrong end of a court marshall!"
Roy happily kicked Maes off the train.
The camp wasn't like anything he imagined it would be. It was, however, exactly what he expected from the military. Neat, ordered, and disciplined. Neat in that there was nothing to make a mess of, ordered in some strange pattern that made sense only to mad men, and disciplined in that 'better to ask forgiveness than permission' way. It was the military at it's purest, and Roy smiled ruefully as he ducked into the mess tent.
And nearly walked right back out. He wasn't sure if the smell was from the food or the tightly packed men sitting at the tables. He concluded it was the food when an unidentifiable ithing/i was put onto his plate.
"Good day today," the old cook grinned at him, black holes were teeth used to be, "Usually the air isn't this clear. Sand storms cloud up the sky."
Roy nodded and shoved himself into a small empty spot on a bench. The soldiers on either side of him look up, but don't say anything when they see his rank. He briefly contemplated the food before digging in. Field chow always looked ten times better than it tasted, and this meal didn't look fit to be fed to a dog. Hunger, however, was a miraculous spice that made even the worst seem divine.
More people trickled in and Roy growled a little as his bench was compacted even further. If this was what it was regularly like he would start taking his meals in his tent. Something crunched between his teeth making him grimace. He spat it out onto his plate and prodded it with his fork. It looked like some sort of a thin shell, as it was in what appeared to be the meat it couldn't be an egg shell...and he wasn't going to think about it any more because he was too hungry to skip a meal.
After his meal Roy wandered through the camp trying to pretend he wasn't lost. He wasn't. He knew exactly where he was, he just couldn't find his damn tent. Rows upon rows of identical brown tents with no distinguishing marks lead him on for several minutes before he abruptly found himself in front of the command tent.
After reorienting himself he walked back to his tent without further confusion. Near the flap he found his trunk. Pleased Roy dragged it in and set it up near his cot. He searched through the clothes and found a worn brown journal. Laying back on his cot he wrote well into the night before falling asleep again.
The General was pointing to a map. Roy knew he should be paying attention, but the heat combined with the fact that he was still tired refused to let him concentrate. He'd just have to ask someone else about it later.
Dust billowed out behind his vehicle as he was escorted to the site. A mile out the Sergeant stopped the convoy and turned to Roy, "How would you like to do this, Sir?"
It's a good question. Roy studies the target, the enemy had picked a good site. There was only open ground leading up to the building. A sheer cliff of rocks rose up behind it. For a convoy passing through it was the perfect place to be killed.
A flicker of movement drew his attention to the roof of the building, but he saw nothing else. A lookout. They undoubtedly knew the convoy was coming. The cloud of dust they'd kicked up was too big to not have been noticed. They would have no element of surprise.
Not that he needed it.
The building would be like most other local buildings. Made with baked clay over a wood frame all dried out from the constant burning sun. Roy smirked. All he had to do was get close enough and one spark would be more than enough.
"Spread our force out so they have to focus on more than one target. Everyone else goes in slow and keeps their heads down. I go in fast and light the place up," Roy glanced over at the Sergeant who was nodding. "Once it goes up everyone else comes in to catch anyone running out. Will that work?"
The Sergeant nodded and began to bark orders out to the men. Soon they were lined up and ready to go. At Roy's nod his driver stepped on the gas and pealed out onto the road. Roy rubbed his fingers together feeling the sparks leap off, and focused on the building. He could see it, but he couldn't feel it. As soon as they got close enough for him to feel the air around it, it would be over.
They're half a mile away when the first shot rang out. It went wildly off target. They're too far away for the rifles the Ishvarite use to be effective. Roy just hoped that his range was a little better than theirs.
The dusty jeep steadily ate up the distance. More shots were being fired. Roy could see through the mirror the rest of the troops spread out behind. And then he couldn't. He could feel the heat where a bullet tore the mirror from his jeep. A quarter of a mile more and he felt more. Dry wood, air flowing around and inside the building.
"Stop!" the vehicle skid to a jarring stop banging him painfully against the door, but Roy didn't notice. Too focused on the dry wood beneath even drier clay.
The sparks left his hand too small and too fast to be seen. To travel that amount of distance with no fuel it had to be small. The building was dry and the first sparks easily began to burn. By the time the vehicle is fully stopped the outer wall is smoldering and Roy is increasing the oxygen around it to turn it into a raging inferno.
The roaring of the flames nearly drowned out the roar of the other vehicles passing him by. It's enough to break him out of his focus. He has enough time to wonder about the jeep's broken window before another small inferno ignites in his arm. Roy only knows that he screamed when the driver jerks his hand away with a hurried apology.
The left arm of his uniform is torn and darkening with blood. Roy feels a distant amazement at not having felt it before, but then he tends to block out most things when doing alchemy. The driver is wrapping a bandage around his arm apologizing every minute. The building burns and Roy hears the retorts of gunfire. He leans his head back against the seat and closes his eyes.
Marcoh's face stayed in his mind. Horrified anger. His creations were meant to give life, not take it.
But it was for good that they had to be used this way. Roy could see as clearly as anyone else exactly how long this war would be dragged out. The Ishvarite were a stubborn enemy and would fight to the death. At the rate the army was going it would be several years before the Ishvarite would be quelled, and it would cost them dearly in lives. Already a draft had been proposed to bring in new soldiers to the undermanned front lines.
If they used the stones to end this war those new soldiers wouldn't have to die. It was a terrible round about way to save lives, but Marcoh would have to be satisfied with it. There was no other way. The war had to end.
The hours slipped by slowly as Roy repeated his thoughts to himself. He tried to forget Marcoh's face, and wished he had a bottle of rum with him.
Roy doesn't think he even needs his gloves to start the fire. He tests it and immediately eight blocks of the city burst into flames. The fire roars up high into the sky lighting it like daylight. Two miles away he can feel it's heat on his face and he desperately tries to dampen the flames.
Control eludes him as he is overwhelmed with power. It's intoxicating what he can do with it, but it is new to him and he wields it with all the grace of a child. After a few minutes struggle he manages to stop the fire. Mostly.
Iron Blood laughs heartily and slaps his back, "Good start, Mustang! Now lets finish this."
The large man strides towards the city. It takes Roy a few moments to make himself move. He follows the other alchemists and stares down at the hand that wears the ring. It's trembling.
The sheer power the small stone grants him is amazing. He wants to experiment with it, learn what it's limits are. The experiments he could do with it, Roy can't even begin to imagine them. The possibilities are mind boggling. With this much power-
He's reached the city without realizing it. The other alchemists have spread out and are long gone. Roy stares silently at the charred and smoldering remains of the city's edge. Up close he gets a better feel of how much damage he'd done, and he hadn't even been trying.
Gunfire snapped him out of his awe, and Roy was diving behind the blackened remains of a wall. Instinctively Roy snapped his fingers to send a gout of fire towards the enemy. The 'gout' incinerated them instantly and engulfed another three blocks of the city in flames. It was accompanied by an explosion as someone, perhaps Kimberly, blew the next few blocks away.
Screams sounded through the night as Roy stumbled forward. He entered a street in time to see a crowd of Ishvarites get torn apart by stone and iron bullets as Iron Blood laughed. Another block was blown away and Roy looked over in time to see a mother and two children fall under the collapsing remains of a building. Their thin screams blending in with the dying city.
"Mustang!" Iron Blood's bellow echoed above the screams and grabbed Roy's attention. "Burn it! Burn it all!"
It was a simple forward movement. Each alchemist doing what they did best, but not going too far ahead of the others lest they get caught by another's alchemy. Mechanically Roy paced slowly behind the advancing line burning everything he passed trying not to see the mutilated bodies or the occasional wrecked toy. Trying not to think.
He burned the city and he burned the bodies. That was all he knew and that was all he did.
Roy stared down at her, gloved fingers ready to snap. Don't, don't, please don't. The words echoed in his mind and burned his throat, but he was too afraid to let them out lest they startle the girl. Make her scared enough to die. His hand was trembling as much as hers, his labored breath was louder.
A soft sob tore through the silence. He slowly shook his head. Her muscles tensed and the rifle steadied. He screamed because she couldn't.
If Roy had been a little less numb he might have killed them all.
"Sir?" was that his voice? When did it become so hoarse and broken?
"That's an order, Mustang," it wasn't the bellow from the city, but the low voice was every bit as effective. Marcoh's pleadings fell into the background against it.
Roy slowly turned his head back to the couple. He's not very surprised to see he is looking over the barrel of his hand gun. The couple look back at him pleading with their eyes even as they softly murmur farewell to each other. Marcoh's voice raises as Roy stares back at the couple helplessly.
"Mustang!"
Roy's entire body flinches at Iron Blood's shout, and just before he pulls the trigger he recognizes something that might be pity in the Rockbell's eyes. Two shots and the doctors fall to the floor unmoving. Roy stares down at them thinking that it shouldn't be that easy. It really shouldn't.
Marcoh and Iron Blood argue behind him. Their words meaningless as Roy stares at the spreading pool of blood. The edges touch the broken frame of a picture, and Roy feels his mind begin to unravel.
What he did do was find the nearest bottle of alcohol and did his level best to crawl into it.
The picture floats to the ground with his bottle of liquor. He isn't sure what it is, he didn't care much beyond the fact that it was alcohol.
Screams fill his head and he shuts his eyes but that's a mistake because he can see the writhing form of burning bodies. He wrenches his eyes open again, but now he's staring at the happy, dead Rockbells lying in their own blood.
And the girl-her scared red eyes, happy smile just like her mother's, blood caked in her bright blonde hair. He isn't sure which girl he's thinking about, but he owes them. Oh, he owes them both.
With a sob Roy scrabbles for his gun. He yanks uselessly at it before remembering to slide the safety strap, in a war zone- he'd laughed at first, out of the way. It's weight is solid and familiar in his hands and shakes as he puts it under his chin. He shuts his eyes, even though all he sees is fire.
"Don't!" it's another order he obeys even as his mind screams at him to do otherwise. Marcoh stands in the doorway looking old and very tired. "You were just following orders," Marcoh looks down at the damning stain, "I am responsible for this. They were doctors like me, and saved lives, but I..."
"What should I do?" he's gotten used to the way his voice sounds now.
"Can you not say anything and let me go?" Marcoh asks with a weary smile.
Roy stares after the man comprehension coming slowly. The man would- Roy knows what he's thinking and knows exactly how far he'll get on his own. Hope is a painful thing for one so low, but he welcomes it nonetheless as a chance to pay back what he owes.
Or so the rumors went.
Roy could never remember, which was a pity as he would've paid dearly to see old Iron Blood's expression. It was probably for the best that he didn't remember, though. The rumors also spoke of a volitive fling with Kimberly.
"Quite possibly," Roy smiled as his friend lightly banged his head on the small table in Roy's tent. The Intelligence officer had only just come back from a mission, and had gone straight to Roy when he heard of Marcoh's desertion. Roy had promptly spilled his guts. "But I don't regret it, Maes. I did the right thing."
"Quite possibly," Maes parroted back as he tiredly rubbed at his face. "but it's sheer luck that you weren't caught."
"Luck?" Roy snorted and managed a faint ghost of a smirk. "Luck has nothing to do with it. It was sheer genius and guts on my part."
"Let me get this straight," Maes stared at his friend in disbelief, "it was your genius idea to get drunk off your ass and call Iron Blood a sexy bitch?"
"No, that was the guts part," Roy smiled faintly at his friend's reluctant laughter. "My genius is me asking you to help me."
"Damn," Maes sobered quickly. "You always get yourself into the worst possible fixes, don't you?"
Roy shrugged and stared down at his empty glass. There was a pattern that the two had developed in their academy days, between Roy's alchemy studies and the classes Maes hadn't been allowed to talk about. Roy would get himself into a mess and immediately seek Maes for help. Maes would come up with an intricate plan which Roy would listen to before completely disregarding it and making his own plan. Maes would loudly bitch about it and quietly fix all the little problems Roy would never notice before they became big problems.
It was a pattern that worked well for them.
Roy poured them both another fifth of whiskey, hesitated, and doubled it, "What should I do, Maes?"
Eventually they were called back. Roy spent the two day trip either sound asleep or staring out at the impossibly green land of his country.
It's a fragile peace. Shattered as he shifts his weight and the paper crinkles loudly. Roy sighs and sits up. All he wants to do is hide in his parent's house and let the world continue without him.
The paper is a way to that. It will allow him to leave the military with the highest of honor and benefits. It will turn him back into a civilian with no obligations to remember the dead of a horrible war.
Roy knows his parents want him to take it. His mother had cried when she first saw him. No, she hadn't. She had cried when she saw him and recognized that, yes, this haggard man with scars on his body and in his soul was her son. His father hadn't said a word. He'd only wrapped his arms around Roy and held on tightly.
They don't like what the military has done to their boy. If he left they'd do everything they could to help him. Make him forget.
It was too easy.
Roy tore the paper into small strips. He couldn't. He didn't deserve to forget just yet, and he had a lot to do before he could.
"Would you like some coffee, Sir?" Private Huey asked with a smile.
Except Huey, Roy liked the younger enlisted's enthusiasm. He felt that Huey could be someone to be trusted. The fact that he made a damn good pot of coffee was a bonus. "Thank you Private."
Roy sat back in his chair and enjoyed the coffee while considering what to do. He needed a good group of people that he could trust. He had the beginnings of a plan. An insane and suicidal plan, which Maes had been kind enough to point out at every available opportunity.
His first step would be to get his staff in order. Which would be a complicated shuffle of finding people he could trust, getting them in his command, and shipping off the others. All without anyone taking too much notice. It was a complicated task that promised to take up the better part of a year or two, but he had plenty of time.
Roy fished for a pad of paper and began his list. Mostly it was of people he'd known in the war. He could get Maes to check more thoroughly into them, and add in any suggestions of his own. Smyre, the driver from his first mission seemed a good candidate. Hawkeye could probably be easily transferred, he didn't think there were many people who could deal with her in an office job. Havok might also do.
Roy stayed in late considering and rejecting candidates for his staff. His current staff left the second their shifts were over. Except Huey who asked if there was anything he needed done, and then left a fresh pot of coffee when Roy dismissed him.
Roy circled Huey's name.
