Author's Note: This is an idea that had always popped into my head when I listened to Switchfoot's song, Yesterdays. I finally put it down in words. I had originally planned for a Roy/Ed pairing, but the story kinda wrote itself in a different direction. As always, I do not own anything in here but my ideas. Please enjoy, and let me know what you think.

The emptiness of his stomach was beginning to match the emptiness of his heart. In the backseat of the car, he scowled, angry that the needs of his body were edging in on his somber thoughts.

As though she could read his mind, Riza turned and briefly studied his face. "Have you eaten today?"

"Watch the road." He was surprised his voice had the energy to force its way past the thick haze of numbness that surrounded him. If the slump of her shoulders at the sharpness of his tone caused him any distress, it was immediately lost in the haze.

The vehicle came to a slow stop and his eyes would look anywhere by straight ahead, even as he forced his body to exit the backseat. Riza's hands refused to be shrugged off as they straightened his jacket and buttoned his collar. The smooth skin of the back of her hands against his rough jaw line reminded him that he'd forgotten to shave. He scowled again.

His gaze fell to Riza's face as she looked up into his scowl, forbidden tears quivering behind her eyes. He removed her hands from his uniform and placed them at her side. "I'm sorry." The words faltered in the haze and emerged flat and meaningless.

Riza swallowed and stepped back. "I understand, sir." She stood tall, ready to follow.

With every step, his stomach fell further into the bottomless pit of his being. He wondered briefly if perhaps he'd eventually leave it on the sidewalk behind him. Then its emptiness would cease to plague him.

The black cars lining the street loomed ominously behind them and he had an irrational urge to quicken his step. This urge dissipated into the haze, however, as they approached the courtyard of Central Headquarters. He choked on the heavy scent of a thousand roses as it slapped him in the face and dove down his throat. The haze invaded his vision and he stumbled.

Riza's firm grip caught his arm. "Are you all right, sir?"

"I'm fine." His voice was as abrasive as his jaw line. He shrugged her off and continued forward.

He had no idea who planned this, but as he surveyed the lawn covered in dress uniforms and roses, he knew that they hadn't known the deceased very well.

The word 'deceased' traveled through his brain and splattered against a brick wall. There was no body. He wasn't necessarily dead. Loud wailing interrupted his thoughts and his eyes fell upon Major Armstrong. Tears rolled down the big man's cheeks and spilled from his hands to the grass.

"Colonel! Er…I mean…Brigadier General?" Havoc approached the pair with a forced version of his trademark smile. "I, uh…I didn't know you'd been released from the hospital."

"He hadn't." Riza's voice was laced with irritation.

Roy's eyes hadn't left Major Armstrong. "Lieutenant, if you must hover, please find someone who may need it."

She followed his gaze and bit her lip. "Yes, sir." She strode away and Mustang silently thanked her for her strength.

Havoc sought to break the tension. "Well anyway, sir, I'm glad you could make it." He cleared his throat. "The boss would…"

Mustang look Havoc straight in the eye. "He would hate this."

After a brief moment of speechlessness, Havoc glanced around him and chuckled nervously. "I guess you're right." He waited several uncomfortable seconds for the conversation to continue, and moved on when it didn't.

Roy sighed heavily and let his fingers and toes succumb to the thickening haze. He closed his eyes briefly, shutting out the miserable dance his colleagues were unwittingly involved in with their shoulder squeezes and consolations. His short reverie was interrupted by a violent slap across his face. He opened his eyes to look down upon the young blonde woman with piercing blue eyes, clearing his throat to speak, but not finding any words.

"I don't hate you anymore." She searched his puzzled expression. "But that made me feel better."

"Winry." A girl he'd never formally met but had come to know as Rose tugged the young women away.

He wanted to tell her it was okay, that'd he'd let her pummel him if it helped with the pain. However, he couldn't arrange the words in a way that wouldn't sound inappropriate. Watching the two young women walk away, he sighed yet again. He could feel the eyes of the other random military personnel on him, burning through the haze. Standing tall, he continued his journey through the maze of roses and crisp black uniforms.

As the other end of the courtyard loomed, he stopped dead in his tracks. Before him stood a young boy whose face he'd only seen in pictures. He made no effort to approach the familiar red jacket before him.

'Oh Ed, if only you could see him.' Mustang's thoughts grew wistful. 'Do you know about your success?'

A picture formed in Roy's mind and he could not push it away. As he was pulled down into the memory, the haze he'd been clutching to him almost like a security blanket began to dissipate.

No matter what was thrown at him to trip him up and beat him down, the fire that had sparked Roy's interest at their very first meeting had never left Edward's eyes. As he stared through the windshield at them with both hands planted firmly on the hood, that golden fire burned hotter than ever.

Skull in hand, his chest filled with ice despite the flames burning hot and wild around them. If he allowed himself time to think, time to react to the situation unfolding and then crumbling before him, he felt he might explode in a rush of steam.

He awoke in a blank white room. The fire was gone, and he was very, very cold. As the seconds ticked by and feeling slowly crept back into his limbs, his eyes searched his sterilized surroundings for a hint of familiarity. A soft hand grasped his tingling fingers and in slow motion he turned gaze to Riza Hawkeye sitting close to the head of his bed. She must have seen the confusion in his expression as she cleared her throat gently.

"You've killed King Bradley."

Visions of flames that could not melt his ice almost overwhelmed him. She thought he was in pain and moved to call a doctor.

"No." The word resisted passing his lips, but he forced it. "And..?"

Eyeing him suspiciously, she sat. "And the military in is chaos."

After a moment of silence, he'd lined up the whole string of words he wanted to say and pushed them over his stiff vocal chords and dry lips.

"This is to be expected." He watched her intently.

"Yes." She looked away.

He grew concerned. "Did Ed…" He fought to get the words out.

Her eyes widened and he feared the worst.

"Did he…fail?" New visions, these full of rampaging homunculi engulfed he brain.

"No." Hawkeye's voice was uncharacteristically timid. "He was more successful than he probably expected."

The ice began to melt as his brain flew into overdrive. "Alphonse?"

"Yes. He's…"

"My god." He pushed himself into a sitting position with a burst of strength. "I want to see them."

"Al went back to…to Risembool. He needs…rest."

Mustang finally noticed the huge hole in the conversation that Hawkeye was avoiding. "Where is Fullmetal?"

"Gone." Her voice cracked on the single word.

He'd never experienced the sensation of actually drowning before, but as that word came to a screeching halt in the center of his mind, and the flood of thoughts and emotions it invoked swept over him, he felt a very real struggle to breathe.

"Gone."

A hot flush rose in Roy's cheeks as his inner core began to boil with rage. He clenched his fists and turned away, not wanting the boy to see the emotion he could not control. "And where was I?"

"Brigadier General?" The voice was full and real and had lost its hollow metal tone.

Mustang could not bring himself to turn and look into Alphonse's eyes, afraid of the blame he'd find there.

"I'm sorry, sir, I thought you might be Brigadier General Mustang. I wanted to thank him."

Mustang winced. "Thank?"

"Yes. They told me he'd taken care of my brother and me on our journey."

He held out his hand for Fullmetal, wanting so badly to tell him to take his little brother and leave…this was too dangerous for children. And yet, as Edward slapped his hand and they locked eyes, he saw all of the maturity and determination of an adult.

As he watched Edward walk away, a tug in his chest asked him to follow. With a wave of his gloved hand, Roy dismissed the feeling and climbed back into the car.

"They may have been mistaken."

Alphonse stepped around to face Mustang and looked him in the eye. "I find it hard to believe that everyone I've talked to is mistaken."

Mustang searched for an argument. "Your brother hated me." His words dripped with cynicism.

"Brother has always had trouble showing gratitude." Al said it with such sincerity and conviction that Mustang's self-pity began to die instantly.

Suddenly, a camera flashed and a gunshot rand out simultaneously. Hawkeye's voice could be heard over the resulting commotion. "You will not bother him."

A scrawny man tried to push his way through the crowd but stopped suddenly as huge hand plucked him from the ground. Major Armstrong bundled the man under his arm and prepared to haul him off, but the man snapped one more picture of the dark man and the blonde boy and managed to shout, "Brigadier General, now that you've killed the Fuhrer, do you plan on taking over the military?"

Silence fell over the crowd that had gathered to witness the scene and all eyes fell on Mustang. He'd never taken his ebony eyes from the steel gray ones of the boy before him. "Alphonse, what is your plan now?"

The boy didn't hesitate. "I want to learn as much as I can." He grinned. "I want to make Brother proud."

Mustang held out his hand. "Let's go to the library."