the end of Uncle Roy

[mikkeneko]

This fic is still missing its beginning, but here's the middle and the end. Enjoy. And remember to brush your teeth afterwards. *yawns*


Title: Unwanted Guests One Road Home (a Ménage fic)
Warnings: Angst, fluff, sap
Rating: PG


Roy had been to Risembourg only once before, on a night he was never likely to forget. It looked very different now, in the sunlight under a clear sky; what looked at night like a dreary and desolate landscape devoid of lights was instead a wide, peaceful eden. It was entirely alien to him. That was why he'd chosen to bring Colonel Armstrong along; he'd been here before.

Roy cleared his throat. "I, ah, I'm sorry to drop in on you so suddenly."

"I knew you were coming." Al, ever the polite host, set out a tray of tea and bread on the coffee table. "I read the letters you send."

One of Roy's eyebrows lifted. "Really?" That thought encouraged him, and he smiled. Maybe his case wasn't so hopeless after all. "Knowing your brother, I would have half expected him to burn them as soon as he gets them."

"He does burn them." Al shrugged. "But I read them first. Please, have a seat."

Awkwardly, Roy did. Armstrong sat on the couch opposite, quiet, his usual exuberant manner subdued. He tended to get this way, Roy thought, when carrying out orders he found distressing or distasteful, and wondered which this was.

Alphonse poured tea for both of them. Roy cleared his throat again. "So, Alphonse. You seem to be in good health; your appearance has improved since when last I saw you."

"Yes, well, it's been a while." Al smiled, but his eyes were serious. He also sat himself down, but then leaned forward in his chair and planted his hands on the table. "General, it's not like you to dance around a subject with pleasantries. Please get to the point of your visit."

"Very well." Roy sat up straight, and felt his face closing off. "To put it simply, Alphonse, I am here in an effort to get your brother to take back his place in the military."

Alphonse was shaking his head even before Roy finished his sentence. "I thought as much," he said. "The answer is no, General. Brother's place is here."

Although he was expecting something like this, Roy couldn't help but be a little irritated. He reached for a cookie, just to have something to do with his hands and eyes while he talked. "It's Edward's decision to make, Alphonse, not yours. After all, it's not like he's doing any other work, at the moment. Perhaps he would be happy to return to the military, now that he's had a chance to rest for a time."

"Brother's answer will be the same. Except he won't be nearly so polite about it," Al warned him.

"I believe that I can convince him to change his mind," Roy murmured.

Al frowned at him, hands tightening on his knees. "I wouldn't be certain of that, General."

Roy shrugged, smiling slightly, but Al wasn't finished. "But you can be certain of this; you won't bribe, or threaten, or intimidate, or blackmail, or manipulate my brother into going back and doing your dirty work for you. I would consider any attempt to do so an attack, and react accordingly."

"Was that a threat, Alphonse-kun?" Roy said mildly. Behind Alphonse, Armstrong shifted unhappily, tensing for a confrontation.

"No. Just a statement of fact." Al ignored Armstrong entirely; he just picked up a cookie of his own and bit down on it.

Roy sighed. It looked like one way or another, he was going to have to deal with Alphonse before Edward. "It's not that I don't understand your feelings," he said, letting his officer-voice slip for a moment, speaking more informally.

"Contrary to what you seem to think, I'm not searching for ways to make your lives difficult. But we need him, Alphonse. The fighting on the Northern border is growing more intense, and the casualties... are becoming... unacceptable. You and your brother," and Roy had to stop and take a breath, control himself, "are irreplaceable resources to the military -- not just as weapons, but also as --"

Al was shaking his head again, looking more and more upset, and he interrupted. "General, that argument isn't going to work," he said. "If Brother had never sat for the State Alchemist exam, then you would have found some way to get along without him. No one person is irreplaceable, not even him."

Roy regarded Al levelly, keeping his expression as calm as he could. "My men are dying, Alphonse."

"That's not our fault!" Al stood up quickly, hands tightened to fists at his sides. "Don't try to manipulate us through guilt. People will die no matter what we do, or don't do, and their deaths are the responsibility of the military, not on us. I'm only responsible for my family."

Roy decided to change tactics. "This isn't merely my fancy, Alphonse," he pointed out. "I would be happy to leave you and your brother in peace, but the senior brass has expressed a very clear interest in returning the Fullmetal Alchemist to his duties. I am under orders to see that that happens."

Al tilted his head to the side, looking politely disbelieving. "General, I know you, and frankly I find it hard to believe that you couldn't find some way around that if you wanted to."

"If I wanted to," Roy agreed.

Al didn't answer that immediately, and Roy readied himself to take the offensive again. Before he could, however, Al turned and strode to a doorway that led farther into the house. "Scieszka?" he called through it. "We have guests."

"They're here?" floated back a familiar voice, and a moment later a familiar figure stepped through the door. A young woman, with dark hair pulled back in a ponytail. In her arms was a tiny, bright-eyed blond girl.

Roy found himself frozen in his seat, as though he'd been nailed there. This was -- Oh. Al had absolutely no right to reprimand him for attempting to manipulate people through guilt. This was just -- Clearly, he had underestimated Al's capacity for sneakiness.

Scieszka hitched up the child against her shoulder, and used her free hand to push her glasses up her nose, as she blinked at them. "Oh, Major Armstrong, it's you," she exclaimed, sounding pleased. "How are you -- it's been so long since we've met!"

Armstrong brightened up at her presence, breaking his nervous silence for the first time. "Ah, Scieszka," he rumbled, standing hastily from the couch. "Indeed, it has been too long! I have not met you since the day of your wedding, I believe..."

"Oh, yes!" Scieszka pinked prettily as she smiled. "It was so good of you to come, Major. I know Edward appreciated it, too."

"It's Colonel now," Armstrong added. "And who is this lovely young girl, hmmm? Your daughter?" He bent in close, sparkles appearing over his head. The little girl stared at him, openmouthed.

Scieszka laughed, and lifted the child up a little more. "Yes, this is my daughter, Sara," she said. "Sara, say hello!"

Over Scieszka's shoulder, Al was watching him, his eyes calculating. Roy made an effort to unclench his teeth, and glare back. Al's strategy was entirely transparent, and he oughtn't have been taken by surprise by it.

But nothing in Edward's admittedly out of date file had said anything about children, damn it.

"It's definitely a pleasure to see you again, Mrs. Elric," Roy announced, forcing himself out of his seat. Scieszka blinked at him, her smile fading somewhat, and Roy felt unreasonably annoyed. He wasn't used to pretty girls failing to be charmed by him, but then, Scieszka was a far cry from the girls he usually tried to charm. "But we really came to see your husband. Is he in?"

"Oh -- Ed is --" Scieszka bit her lip, and looked over at Al. They shared a positively conspiratorial look, and Al nodded. "He's out at the market today, with Peter," she said.

Roy frowned. It wasn't in Edward's nature to avoid confrontation. Al added, "I sent him on an errand."

Well. That explained it. "Well, we'll wait for him," he said smoothly. "In the meantime, won't you join us, Mrs. Elric? We were just having a lovely snack."

"Ed might be a while," Scieszka cautioned, even as she was bouncing Sara in her arms to get a giggle for Armstrong. "We wouldn't want to keep you."

"That's quite all right. I don't mind the company, and the issue I have to discuss with Edward is quite important." He shot a deliberately challenging look at Al. "In fact, you could say I'd be willing to wait here as long as it takes."

Al glared. Even Scieszka frowned, and looked away. Armstrong looked uncomfortable, then tried to cover up the moment with more sparkles.

Tea and cookies resumed; the presence of Scieszka and Sara lightened the atmosphere somewhat, but there was still a decided air of tension. Roy sat stubbornly on the couch, and smiled through all of Al's dark looks; there was no way they were going to shift him from this spot until Ed returned.

"Hey, what's all the noise in here?" came a new voice, and a blond head poked around the doorway. "Al, you didn't say we were going to have a party!"

"Winry!" Scieszka chirped, brightening visibly as the other girl entered. "It's Lieutenant Colonel Armstrong and General Mustang that have come to visit us."

The tall blond girl swung around to look at Roy. Roy looked back, for all of five seconds.

"--On second thought," he said, rising hastily, "I think I'll go meet Edward on the road."

The Rockbell girl had another child attached to her hip -- a little boy this time, and Roy gritted his teeth as he brushed past them, feeling the child's eyes following him. The boy's hair was dark, unlike the little girl's bright blond, but there could be no mistaking his parentage, not with those golden eyes.

Nobody had told him about the children.




He'd only been in Risembourg once before, but he wasn't likely to get lost. There was only one road that led from the Elric residence, after all, and he walked slowly along it, not in any hurry; he'd just have to cover the same distance back, anyway. It wasn't long, anyway, before he caught sight of a small figure in red coming slowly along the road towards him.

Roy stopped and waited; the other person, though, was hindered by carrying a bag and also, Roy saw as the distance closed, an even smaller person walking along beside him. Roy gritted his teeth; another one? Fullmetal had been busy, there could be no question.

He watched them for a while, Edward holding his son's hand, the two of them talking about something and laughing; then he steeled his nerve, and stepped forward to meet them.

Ed looked up, and his gold eyes widened to see Roy there, then narrowed in anger. "Colonel," he said, stopping a few paces away. "What are you doing here?"

"I came to speak with you, of course," Roy answered. "Fullmetal."

Ed frowned, gripping his son's hand hard. "You shouldn't call me that any more," he warned. "I turned in my watch. I'm not a State Alchemist any more."

"So you did," Roy said agreeably, tipping his head to one side. "But I think you'll find, Fullmetal, that some things can't be left behind simply by childishly running away from them."

"Why, you --" Ed growled, then cut himself off. As Roy watched, Ed turned, and crouched down until he was face-level with his small son. "Peter, pay attention," he said seriously. "This is going to be one of those things that Daddy does that you are never, ever to do, do you understand?"

Peter nodded, eyes wide. Ed smiled, and patted him on the shoulder. "That's a good boy," he said, and stood up again.

The next thing Roy knew, he was waking up flat on his back on the road with a ringing head and an aching jaw that felt, somehow, as though it had just collided with twenty pounds of angry steel.

He sat up, and gingerly felt at his jaw. Not broken, but he suspected it would need some ice, or he would be unable to talk before long. With a very undignified groan, he pushed himself up, and looked around; Edward and his son were nowhere in sight, and by the arc of the sun, he had been out for more than a few minutes. He got himself levered to his feet, shook his head to dispel the dizziness, and started slowly back towards the Elric household.

It seemed as though Edward was not particularly interested in talking.

By the time Roy returned to the house, it seemed that something of a small party was going on. Ed's groceries had apparently been key for dinner at the household, and Winry and Alphonse were taking turns in the kitchen, while Scieszka played with Terry and chatted with Armstrong. Edward was nowhere to be seen.

Both Sara and Peter seemed delighted by Armstrong, and much to Roy's disbelief and amusement, were actually climbing up and down the large man like a tree. Armstrong was doing his part by striking and holding various impressive poses, providing a never-ending source of amusement to the children. Roy just wondered with morbid fascination how long Armstrong's shirt was going to remain on, at this rate.

On Roy's entrance, Al gave him a long "I told you so" look, and vanished into the kitchen. He reappeared with a towel full of ice a moment later, which Roy accepted with dignified thanks. Winry appeared in the room a moment later, carrying a large metal spoon, and frowned at him.

"Well, General," she said. "Now that you've said what you came to say, I guess you'll be going."

It was quite clearly a dismissal, but Roy smiled at her around the towel. He would not be budged. "I'm afraid we can't be leaving just yet," he said. Winry scowled, hefting her spoon slightly, and opened her mouth to answer, when Al stepped in unexpectedly.

"No, let him stay," he said, and the look he gave Roy was... strange. Almost challenging. "I'm sure we can put him and the Lieutenant Colonel up for the night, after all."

Armstrong hastily returned to attention, nearly dropping Terry as he did so. "We would not wish to impose," he rumbled, but Al waved the objection away.

"It would be no trouble," he said, smiling slightly. "In fact, it might even prove... educational."

Roy hmph'ed, disguising it behind the towel. So that was the game Alphonse wanted to play, was it? Well, Roy was more than willing; ice or no ice, a little thing like a punch to the jaw was not going to affect his purpose.

If Al threw him out, then Roy would simply come back again, and again -- however many times it took. Because sooner or later, he would get what he came for. It didn't matter if Ed had a wife, a house, a son, a dozen children. He could throw a punch, or a tantrum, or a chair, and it wouldn't make a bit of difference. The military still needed -- Roy still needed -- his invaluable skills and abilities, and Roy was not going to back down while there were lives on the line.

He was just settling in to brood on the matter -- brood, not sulk, because sulking was what tactless young men like Edward did, not older men in dignified positions of authority -- when he was distracted by a tug on his coat. He blinked, and looked down, into a pair of wide, curious, green eyes.

"Can you do sparkles?" the little girl asked brightly, hand still tangled in the edge of his coat. "Uncle Armstrong can do sparkles."

Roy shot a dark look over at this evidence of blatant desertion on the part of his subordinate. Uncle Armstrong, was it? Armstrong studiously made himself very busy drawing sketches for the boys. Another yank on his coat, and he looked down to see the little girl practically climbing into his lap to get his attention. "I want sparkles," she demanded.

This little girl reminded him a bit of Alicia -- when she had been this age, and Roy felt himself softening despite himself. "Well," he said, and cleared his throat. "I can't do sparkles like the Lieutenant Colonel, no. But," he added, as a disappointed pout started to cloud her face, "I can do something like them."

"Really?" Her face dissolved into smiles. "Show me, show me!" she crowed, and Roy had to fight back a smile. He reached into his pocket with deliberate slowness, and her eyes followed his hand intently as he brought out the white gloves and pulled them on. He turned his hand over, showing her the design on the back for a minute, and then -- deliberately not using his power at all -- snapped.

Bright yellow sparks jumped up from his fingertips, then quickly died. Sara squealed with delight, and that was enough to attract the attention of her brothers. Before Roy quite knew what was happening he was surrounded by all three of the kids, wanting to know what he had done and how he'd done it. He was obliged to repeat the performance, and then again a little higher, so Peter could see.

As he lifted his hand, the eldest boy -- the one with Fullmetal's eyes -- suddenly reached out and grabbed his wrist, tugging it closer. "That's an array," he said, lifting his eyes to meet Roy's. "An alchemy array, like the ones Papa uses."

Roy felt a slight chill go through him, meeting those eyes, and he nodded. "Yes, it is," he said. "Have you seen your father work with alchemy often?"

"Papa does," Terry corrected him. Before Roy could quite work this out, Peter interrupted, "Where do you know Daddy from before, Uncle Roy?"

Uncle Roy? He boggled at the child for a moment, distracted from the question. Apparently, any adult male who entered the household was 'Uncle' to them. "Well," he said finally, answering Peter's question, "I knew your father for a long time a few years ago. I was his CO, when he was in the mili --"

He nearly bit his tongue when something struck him in the head from the side, vision going silly for a moment. He blinked back into focus to see Al standing next to him, his elbow still held stiffly out. He was carrying a large covered dish. "I'm sorry about that, General," he said with an apologetic smile. "I didn't realize you were there."

Roy glared balefully at him, rubbing the side of his head with a wince. Apparently some topics were off-limits when talking to the children.

"Anyway, it's time for dinner," Al said, directing his comments more to the kids. "Come and get your cups, the table's set."

The kids cheered, and nearly tripped over Roy's feet getting themselves into the dining room, leaving Al and Roy together.

"You could have just said something," Roy said. Al just smiled again, but his eyes were hard.

"We don't talk about that," he said. "Not to the kids."

"Why not?" Roy stood, and straightened his coat from where the pulling small hands had crumpled it. "It's nothing to be ashamed of."

Al didn't answer, just turned and went into the dining room. Controlling the impulse to scowl at his back, Roy followed.

Dinner was noisy, crowded -- as could be expected, with Armstrong looming over the table -- and surprisingly tasty. A far cry from military dormitory food, Roy noted, and even better than the food served at many of Central's restaurants. Or maybe it was just the atmosphere that made the difference, tense as it was.

Ed had reappeared for the meal, although he sat at the opposite end of the table from Roy and ignored him during the course of the meal. Roy found himself seated between Scieszka and her daughter, and managed to make polite conversation with the one and answer a never-ending stream of questions from the other, about his coat and his buttons and the ribbons on his chest and why were his eyes black like Auntie's and why could he make sparkles with his gloves.

As they ate, Roy felt an unfamiliar melancholy settling over him. This, for all his rank and status, was something that he did not have. Oh, he could get a girl any day of the week he wanted one, and have a fine time with any number of Central's finest ladies -- but this feeling, this atmosphere of home, was one he had not experienced for a long, long time. He had very little contact with his family, any more; his parents had grown reclusive in their age, and from his only sister he'd been estranged for many years.

It was the path he had chosen when he enlisted in the military, chosen to make that his life and his career and his family, and he had never really learned to miss what he had never had. The closest he had come to this feeling of homeliness was probably on those rare occasions where he hadn't been able to avoid Hughes dragging him back for a family dinner, and those occasions had ceased long ago.

He felt a sudden fierce, intense jealousy for Fullmetal; the boy didn't even know how good he had it. Here he was, a decade and a half younger than Roy, and he'd already gotten a head start on any fool's dream of a perfect little country of his own.

None of this changed his decision at all, of course. Not one bit. It only made his determination to do what he had to do more painful.

Dinner was over before he had quite gotten his bearings, and then Winry was herding the children off while Scieszka started to collect the dishes. Remembering his manners, Roy stood and offered to help. Armstrong, too, made an offer of his Artistic Family Method for Cleaning Dishes, but Scieszka -- wisely, Roy thought -- turned him down. Al managed to distract the Lieutenant Colonel with an offer to catch up on old times, and before long Roy found himself alone in the kitchen with Fullmetal's wife.

For a few minutes she didn't say anything, collecting the dishes and filling the sink with water. Once she'd gotten started, up to her wrists in suds while Roy carefully rinsed them, did she finally say what was on her mind.

"I know why you're here," she said quietly. "You want him to re-enlist in the military, don't you?"

Roy leaned thoughtfully against the countertop, holding a plate. "Technically, he was never discharged," he told her. "The military never discharges useful men if they can help them, merely holds them on inactive status. With the new threat growing in Drachma, he is being asked to return to active status."

Scieszka blinked hard, eyes unusually fierce behind her glasses. "I worked in the military records long enough to know what's a bureaucratic fiction," she told him. "I helped file Ed's discharge papers after our wedding. Anything that's been entered into the archives since then is a lie."

"My dear, surely you worked there long enough to realize that the truth in military records is whatever is convenient to the military," Roy told her, and watched her shoulders stiffen. He sighed, and backed off a little, returning the plate to the dishrack. "We wouldn't be doing this if there wasn't an urgent need..."

"Urgent for whom?" Scieszka asked tartly, and spared a hand to push her slipping glasses back up her face. It left a trace of soapsuds on her nose, but somehow that didn't make her look any less fierce. "It would have to be extremely urgent to take him away from his home and his family."

"I don't see why you're making such a big deal over this," Roy said, keeping his eyes on the glasses he was wiping. "It's not as though active service is the end of the world, you know. There are plenty of men in the service with wives and families, Edward would be in perfectly good company."

"I see," Scieszka said, and her voice was unfathomable. "Married men with families, just like Brigadier General Hughes, am I right?"

He couldn't stop himself; his head jerked up to regard her sharply. He was just in time to receive the solid slap across his cheek, that echoed in the kitchen.

Soapsuds spattered and dripped down the side of his reddening cheek, but he just stared at her, hardly able to credit what had just happened. Her green eyes were brimming with angry tears, and she held her hand like she was ready to bring it back the other way. In the end, though, she just shook her head and lowered her hand, clenching it into a fist. "I just hope," she said, voice thick and catching, "that you pay better respects to Edward's family than you did to Mrs. Hughes and Alicia."

She whirled and stalked out of the room, still wearing the apron and dripping soapsuds, leaving Roy alone with the dishes in the empty kitchen.

After a while, he went to find the towel full of ice that Al had dug up for him earlier. It was all melted by now, of course, but the towel was still cold and wet, and he pressed it against his aching face, willing it to stop the burning in his eyes.

"Got a mean right hook, doesn't she?" came a voice from behind him, and Roy jumped and whirled around, fingers twitching as if to snap. Not that it would have mattered, since he didn't have his gloves on, but the figure leaning against the shadowed doorway just snorted and unfolded itself to come into the room beside him.

"Fullmetal," he greeted the young man, and got the expected angry frown.

"I told you not to call me that," Edward said, shrugging one shoulder irritably. "I already gave you my answer. Want it again?" he offered, cocking his automail hand for a punch.

"That's quite all right," Roy said dryly. "I think your extremely protective family is taking care of that for you."

"Yeah, you think you've got it bad, you should try living with them." Ed shoved his hands into his pockets. "What do you want, Colonel?"

"You know what I want," Roy answered, rocking back on his heels. "And it's General, now."

"Oh yeah? You got promoted a few times, then," Ed said, tipping his head to the side. "Should I offer you congratulations, or a kick on the ass out the door?"

"You would have known if you had bothered to read my letters," Roy replied.

"Why should I? There's nothing in them that's of interest to me." Ed shrugged.

"If you had read them, then you would know that the situation is getting tense in Drachma," Roy replied. "It's been a while since you set foot on a battlefield, but I assure you it's no prettier in the North than it was in the East. We are in desperate need of Alchemists who could help limit our casualties -- save the lives of our men."

Ed's eyes narrowed, and his shoulders tensed, but he shrugged again, affecting unconcern. "Not my responsibility," he said. "My responsibilities are here."

"That's very cold, even for you, Fullmetal."

"Call me that once more and I'll knock you on your ass again, Flame," Ed said. "And maybe it is. So I can be a ruthless bastard. That's something you ought to be able to understand, at least."

Roy smiled slightly, He certainly couldn't deny that. "We are still very much alike, Edward Elric."

Ed looked up at him, meeting his eyes at last with clear uncompromising gold. "No, we aren't; not any more," he said. "And do you know why? Because I met my damn goals, that's why, and I finished with it. I put them aside and I'm done. You're still caught up in the chase. And I think you've forgotten what it is you're chasing for; I never did. I never let the means distract me from the end I was aiming to achieve. I'm not sure that you can say the same."

That stopped Roy, stopped him cold, as nothing he had heard or seen or said for a very long time had managed to do. He tried to find something to say, at the least a flippant remark that would disguise the hit from Edward, but it was too late; the young man just shook his head, pulled his hands from his pockets, and started for the door.

He stopped in the doorway, looking back over his automail shoulder, and added, "When you've figured out just what it is you're chasing, then come and talk to me again, General."



Apparently, a country house with small children went to bed early. Roy found himself standing out in front of the the porch, tilting his head back to look up at the stars, and the house was dim and quiet behind him at an hour when the downtown sections of Central would have just been gearing up for the night. Heavy creaking sounded on the porch behind him, heralding the arrival of Armstrong.

"They are a good family," Armstrong said softly behind him, and Roy allowed himself a long sigh.

"I would have expected no less of the Elric brothers, really," Roy answered. "Those boys will succeed at whatever they put their hand to. They have the determination, and the talent, for that. That is why we need them so badly."

The porch gave off one final creak as Armstrong climbed down to stand beside him -- or over him, as the case may be. "Request permission to speak freely, sir," Armstrong said.

"Go on," Roy answered, not moving.

"I do not doubt that Edward -- and Alphonse, too, because I do not believe that he would ever let his brother go into danger without him -- would be a great resource on the battlefield," Armstrong rumbled.

"However, to do so would mean destroying what they have built here. I feel, sir, that if we can heedlessly destroy the households that our own people build for themselves in our own country, then the military has failed no matter how many battles it may win."

"What are you saying, Lieutenant Colonel?" Roy asked softly. He didn't look at his old friend, instead just watching the stars. Funny, they were the same here as they were in Central; but somehow, you could see them so much more clearly from here.

"Just this. That the purpose of a military, above all else, is to protect and defend its people from dangers that might threaten from the outside. I believe that too many people have forgotten that purpose, in the pursuit of other ends. I do not believe that we should let ourselves be so distracted by our means that we should forget our ends."

After a long moment, Roy lowered his gaze to the earth again, and chuckled quietly. "You're an idealist, Lieutenant Colonel," he said.

"Yes, sir."

"Something to protect..." Roy trailed off, staring out into the darkness. Then he shook his head, as though coming out of a reverie. "Let's go back inside, Lieutenant Colonel," he said. "We'll need to get off to an early start in the morning. I have unfortunate news to deliver to the brass."

"Yes, sir." Gravely, though hardly visible in the dim light, Armstrong saluted.



An early start turned out to be out of the question, Roy thought somewhat wryly, later. But it had certainly been an educational morning.

"Well, goodbye and good riddance, Colonel," Ed said, stifling a yawn. He made an unerring grab for the back of Peter's shirt as he went barreling by in a desperate bid for one last hug on 'Uncle' Armstrong. "Hope to see you around again, Major."

"Lieutenant Colonel," Al corrected him, taking Peter as Ed handed the boy over. Ed shrugged. "Right, whatever," he said, waving the distinction aside.

"Oh, you'll be seeing both of us again, soon enough," Roy said, with a faint smile.

Ed squinted at him in the morning light, and scowled. "How's that?" he said. "I thought you'd decide to do the sensible thing and give up where you know it's hopeless."

"I'll be bringing back negative results on my report this time, it's certain," he told them. "But I have no doubt that the issue will not be resolved so easily. These things never are. I expect I will be reassigned to the investigation again. I will come back to recruit you again, Fullmetal... oh, say, the fourth of next month?"

Ed was gawping at him, expression beginning to thundercloud. Just to make it clear, Roy added in, "Please ask your lovely wife to bake that excellent pudding again. I'm sure I'll need it to console my disappointment."

Al caught it first -- of course -- and laughed. "Of course," he said, grinning at the pair of them. "Don't forget to bring presents, next time, or else the kids will never forgive you." He elbowed his brother in the side, earning a start and a growl, but at least Ed stopped looking like he was about to try and punch Roy out again.

Roy nodded. "Of course," he said. "Well -- until next time," he said, and turned to leave.

He'd only been to Risembourg once before, but it was hard to get lost here. There was only one road out, and only one road home.


~fin



Omake: A Morning at the Elrics
kindly provided by windandwater
Roy: *sits at table eating breakfast*
Al: *cooking*
Shez: Morning. *kiss*
Roy: o_O* (Did Fullmetal's wife just kiss his brother?)
Winry: *yawns* Coffee... *kiss kiss*
Roy: O_O
Ed: ... goddamned dog!
Ed: *kiss kiss*
Roy: *whispers* Terry, are your parents drunk?
Terry: No, they're always like this.
Ed: Al, gimme some bacon. *kiiisss*
Roy: O______O;;
Armstrong: And this is an example of what true family love is like! *sparkle*

Comments

[mikkeneko.livejournal.com]

I probably ought to add something to that effect, at the very least something to the effect of "Roy saw Winry working on something in her workshop, cursing inventively and swinging her wrench with great enthusiasm, considered the bruises to his head he'd already managed to collect tonihgt, and very prudently turned and walked out again."

And yeah, let's not forget that Scieszka has her own issues and Angst, she's not just Ed's female accessory. ;p

[kalikamaxwell.livejournal.com]

If Winry got started on him, she'd decapitate him. I suppose he's aware of that. 'Let's see...killer her parents, trying to take another member of her family to war...last person I ought to talk to. Strategical retreat it is!'

[mikkeneko.livejournal.com]

He's got guts, but he's not stupid. XD

[oysterverse.livejournal.com]

Ooh, I like that. Winry is not one to cross.

[mikkeneko.livejournal.com]

She has a wrench and is not afraid to use it! >:o