Warnings: Angst. And the rating is for a bit of language (again, it's nigh impossible to write these characters without some language here and there).

Disclaimer: I, surprisingly, don't own FMA.

Title: I am notoriously bad at coming up with decent titles. Instead of using something as boring as "Guilt;" you have (the equally-generic but moderately-more-interesting-sounding) Zaika (Japanese for "guilt").

A Note on the Text: Italics indicate thought, except in the flashbacks (which are all italics). And it's Roy who is doing the thinking. ;)

Zaika

Roy ran his hands through his hair, staring through the work on his desk. His mind was still reeling: anger, sorrow, vengeance, loss, and back to anger. But his eyes were blank now.

He didn't remember the last time he'd lost control like this. Usually he was calm, cool, and manipulative. If he praised, or if he lashed out, it had all been calculated towards reaching his ultimate goal.

It wasn't like this.

Roy abruptly stopped running his hands through his hair (which he'd been doing so long that it now stuck up at odd angles) and pulled open his top drawer, scrambling around in it until he pulled out a photograph.

It was an old one, himself and Maes, years ago, new to the military. It was a faded shot; but it still showed his friend's goofy grin, even as he stood at attention.

Why?

Why were you still here?

Roy had asked that question hundreds of times since the murder. Promoted two ranks in

death, Maes could have easily attained that position in life. Why had he stayed Mustang's subordinate? Why had Maes stayed under him, when he could have gone on, to a different post, to a different place? A place where he wouldn't have been killed.

XxXxX

"Where's Hughes?"

The question was one he'd dreaded for days. It was a question he didn't know how to answer. Or at least, a question he didn't know how to answer this boy.

So he took the coward's way out.

"Hughes is on leave, with his family, in the country," Mustang had replied calmly.

He pointedly ignored the shocked look that Lieutenant Hawkeye shot his way. The boy didn't notice; he just nodded with a distracted look.

"Call me when he gets back," the boy had said, leaving.

XxXxX

Roy had told himself that he had lied for the boy's sake, not knowing a way to break things to him gently.

But that was also a lie.

It was because he, himself, couldn't face up to it. Maes had been his soldier, his man; and bottom line was: there should have been something he could do.

He didn't want to loose anyone else, their lives or their trust. Not that he deserved the trust of the Fullmetal runt, or anyone else.

There was a knock on his door.

"Sir? Fullmetal is here, with his report," came the muffled voice of Riza.

Damn.

Well, what did he expect? Fullmetal would hear sooner or later.

Roy straightened and gave a hurried brush at his hair, with his fingers. It wouldn't do for his subordinate to see him looking like some godforsaken drunk.

The door didn't slam.

Unusual. Roy frowned slightly, glancing up from the endless stacks of paperwork. When Roy caught the boy's eyes, Ed's expression returned to its usual irritation.

Returned? From what?

Fullmetal sauntered over to the desk, holding out the wad of paperwork, opening his mouth for the customary insults, when his gaze slid down to Mustang's desk, and his expression fell.

What was he looking…? Oh.

Mustang wondered whether he should remove the photo from where it lay on the desk, but decided that would look too suspicious.

He glanced up at his subordinate, who swallowed, setting the stack of papers on the corner of the desk instead of dropping them in a heap like he usually did.

"Thank you," Roy said, gathering the report, and not meeting the boy's gaze, stubbornly pretending that things were normal.

He glanced up sharply. There was no retort from Fullmetal; and he hadn't left either. He was just looking at the photograph.

"Anything else?" Roy asked, a slight edge of irritation in his voice.

The boy started guiltily, and then looked down.

"They didn't tell us," he muttered.

Why did it have to be now?

"Didn't tell you what?" Roy asked, still sounding irritated.

Edward looked up, eyes flashing.

"They didn't tell us about Hughes! He's been dead and buried for over two weeks now! And no one even bothered to tell us."

Mustang had expected an outburst of some sort, but was surprised when it was over so quickly; the boy returned his gaze to the floor.

Mustang was quiet a moment, waiting for the rest. Waiting for the blame (Fullmetal was never slow to blame him). He tensed, waiting. It had to happen sooner or later. He'd let Maes die. And he'd lied about it. He didn't deserve trust from the boy.

Roy thought he had prepared himself for anything, but found himself at a loss when he saw the first tear fall.

"I'm sorry," the boy whispered.

What?

"I…," he swallowed. 'It was my fault."

Mustang looked at the boy in surprise. Edward looked at the floor, hair falling over his face, crying slightly.

"I brought him into it."

"You…" Roy started, confused.

"He was helping Al and me in our research. The information they…killed him for. He'd found it for us."

The boy stopped talking, shoulders shaking.

XxXxX

When Edward had heard the news from Breda, he knew he'd have to confess, eventually. At first, he was merely angry. Angry that Hughes was dead. Angry that no one had told him.

But when the anger faded, all that was left was guilt. It was his fault. Hughes had died helping him. No wonder Mustang hadn't contacted him. Mustang probably hated him. And he had every right to. Because of Edward, his stubbornness, his illegal research, the colonel's best friend was dead.

Which meant Edward had lost more than one person.

There weren't many people whose opinion Edward cared about, and fewer he dared to rely upon. There was his family, Pinako, Winry, and Al. They were constants in his life. So was the colonel, however much he belittled or argued with him. The colonel was always there, something dependable, something constant. The man who'd brought him to where he was now.

And he'd lost it.

He didn't deserve it, anyway, not after what had happened to Hughes.

XxXxX

Mustang watched in consternation as his loudest, most hotheaded subordinate stood, small and shaking in front of his desk.

Roy had been blaming himself so long and so constantly, the thought that Fullmetal could feel any guilt over the murder just didn't register.

"You…" Mustang started again.

"It's okay," Edward said, trying to pull himself together. "You can hate me. I deserve it."

Mustang reeled back, as if slapped. He knew that Fullmetal was adept at harboring and cultivating guilt. But…

"Fullmetal," Roy said, reaching across towards Ed; but the boy flinched back. "It wasn't your fault."

"WEREN'T YOU LISTENING?" Edward exploded, looking up, tears still streaming down his face. "You warned me; the law forbids it; and I let Hughes be sucked into it! And you were right."

The boy was now sobbing in good earnest; loud, heart-wrenching sobs.

God, what do I do?

His heart went out to the boy, it really did. And for a moment he wished he could just sit and cry.

But he was the colonel. Colonels weren't allowed to have breakdowns. Mustang stood and walked around to the other side of the desk.

"Fullmetal," he took the boy's shoulders. "Listen to me. It was not your fault. The law may forbid your research but I allow you to continue."

I even encourage it. As your commanding officer, your crimes are my fault anyway.

Edward shook his head, still sobbing.

"Hughes got too close," the boy managed, between sobs.

"To the stone?" Roy asked, hoping to placate the boy.

"To me!" Edward replied. "Everyone who gets close to me gets hurt."

As if you are responsible for everything in the world.

Edward suddenly dug his hand into his pocket, pulling out his military watch.

"Here," he said.

Roy just stared.

"You can't give that to me," he said.

The boy blinked through tears, unable to answer, just holding the watch out.

"No," Mustang said firmly. "You signed up for this job. You can't quit."

"B..but," Edward started.

"You aren't allowed to quit."

"Please," the boy whispered.

Roy's eyes widened, slightly, taking in the bedraggled boy.

I'm sorry, he thought. I'm so sorry. You're just a child. Still a child. But you can't take back what you've done, and what you've agreed to. You don't belong to yourself. You belong to the military, now.

Mustang hardened his face, trying to look and sound firm.

"You knew what you were doing when you joined the military. You can't leave. You can't escape your duty."

The boy looked up, eyes wide in surprise.

"That's not what I meant," he said, in a voice mixed with confusion and anger. "I don't want to get out of my job. I just…just…How can you stand having me here, after what I did to your friend?"

Oh.

Roy closed the boy's fingers around his watch.

"If I only had men who had never had a blot on their record, I'd be a colonel with no soldiers."

The boy stared at the ground, tears slacking off. Judging by his face he wasn't convinced.

Roy moved forward, cupping the boy's chin with his hand, forcing him to look up.

"And because it isn't your fault. Hughes helped you. But he would have helped any of us, of…his friends. It isn't your fault, if anyone's, it's mine."

The boy's eyes widened further, in surprise.

If you only knew.

"Take this," Roy said, pushing the boy's hand containing his watch back towards Ed. "And take the rest of the day off. You can give me your report tomorrow."

The boy's mouth opened, probably to argue that he could give the report now, but decided against it, nodded numbly, and shuffled towards the door.

He glanced back before shutting the door behind him. And Mustang wished he had something to say that could comfort the boy, something of substance; wished that he wasn't an officer who had to stay cool and not allow himself to become emotional.

Irrational, he thought, sighing as he walked back behind his desk, looking back down at the faded image.

I'm sorry, he thought. I'm sorry that I didn't save you, Maes. He glanced towards the door. I'm sorry that I saddled you with this life, Fullmetal.

He sat, elbows on the tables, hands over his eyes.

It was his fault. First Maes. And now the boy. He'd lost his comrade, and then made the boy suffer by leaving him to draw his own conclusions for days. And, long before, he'd sealed the boy's fate by bringing him into the military. He felt suddenly angry and incompetent.

They were his men, his subordinates, his…companions. Their lives, their hopes, their happiness, all of that lay in his hands. And he'd failed them.

He stared past the photograph and the mound of paperwork Riza had left on his desk. At least when he was done with it he could go home. And, maybe, in the privacy of their own homes, officers were allowed to cry.

XxXxX

Author's Note: I'm sorry for how long a one-shot that turned into. I haven't read very far in FMA; but I have gotten to Maes's death. And…I'm still waiting for Ed to get the news. Surely someone tells him sooner or later.

And I apologize for all the ANGST. But I was in a mood for angst, or fluff. And angst won. I'm sorry if the characters are OOC. I tried. But it's hard to write a decent angst-fic without some amount of OOC…ness. But, Ed's such an extreme person, it didn't seem to far-fetched for him to have a breakdown like this.

I referred to Pinako and Winry (as well as Al) as Ed's family. I know they aren't biological relatives; but they totally count.

And I have know idea why it was Breda who told Ed about Hughes.

Also, I love Ed and Roy non-shippy interaction. But it's rather sadly lacking on FF. If you know any gems in that category, I'd love to hear about them.

Anyway, thank you for reading, and I hope you enjoyed!

~TheInkgirl