Author's Note: I do not own FMA.

This chapter is a little bit longer than the last. Truthfully, I'm not very fond of it. Though, I still hope you enjoy it.

Side Note: Thank you very much to those who read, reviewed, alerted, and favorited. As I've said before and will continue to say, it is greatly appreciated.

Once the short-lived moment of disbelief subsides, reality returns once more along with a multitude of questions knocking at the door of her mind. However, there was only one question that seemed to cover all of the areas of her astonishment. For all she knew, the man could have been dead. No letters or calls to assure he left the country safely, instead she was left to deal with the hardship of being a mother. "What are you doing here?" she asks, a tinch of suspicion in her voice.

He chuckles at her apparent confusion. Not at all surprised his only sibling suspects he is up to no good. "Are you not happy to see me, little sister?"

The unexpected visit had left her feeling a range of emotions in a single moment. There were several scenarios she often thought of, had her only brother returned, yet with the man standing in front of her, she couldn't act in any way she imagined she would. Despite being angry and disappointed with him, she was elated to know he was still alive. With shaking hands, she tries her to light her cigarette, swiping the match against the jagged matchbox strip a couple of times before she successfully strikes a flame. Triumphant, she brings the stick to her mouth, inhaling the harsh carcinogenic smoke. Her hands still shaking.

"When did you pick up that awful habit?" he questions, a contorted expression forming on his face. In all his years he'd known his sister, she had never been a smoker.

"When you left me with a kid to take care of." She retorts bitterly. "What are you doing here?"

He frowns at the honesty in her remark, but decides to ignore it. "I wanted to see you, Chris. The girls. To see...little Roy." He takes a swig of the liquid in his glass. It's harsh contents burning his throat as it travels to his stomach. Despite his drastic change, his love for alcohol clearly hadn't changed much. "I've been running away from my problems my whole life, I've decided that it was finally time to come back and face my problems head on."

"It took you twenty years to realize you were a screw up?"

He nods ever so slowly, avoiding eye contact with her. For some reason she had become much more intimidating than she ever was. "It's not something I'm proud to admit." An uncomfortable silence creeps amongst them, making their meeting become increasingly uncomfortable.

The sudden silence had turned into several minutes.

Neither of them able to process any proper words or convey any type of emotion. The arrival had been so unexpected that she could hardly think swiftly. Roy senior had voyaged to the pits of hell, it had been obvious by his now worn physical appearance, yet she still could not ask him where he had been for the last two decades. She could only imagine what things he had done to make him age so terribly.

Minutes turn into an hour, and Madame hardly realized much of the bar had cleared out. Her girls had been hopping around, graciously accepting tips from inebriated men stumbling about. The bouncers of the bar unkindly shoved drunk patrons out of the doors. Her establishment was less of a whorehouse than it once was, it had mostly become a place where the women gathered intelligence from unsuspecting men. It was the art of retrieving classified information. Rich executives, Men of the military, blue collar, white collar, they were all treated the same at the Christmas brothel. The only people who landed one of her woman in bed was one who wouldn't easily give up information. Though, most men and women were just coaxed into getting terribly sloshed. It was a method she came up with after Roy's mom's death, the women assumed that only someone who discovered her actual profession could commit such an atrocious crime, had they found out she was gathering intelligence on them.

"Umm, Madame?" a high pitched voice calls from behind her. Like a falling stone echoing in a desolate canyon, the abrupt vocalization shakes her from the tranquility she had obtained. Chris turns to see it's the brunette she had recently promoted to an agent, Vanessa. She was the child of a woman who long worked for Chris' since Roy was a child. In fact, Chris had once believed Roy and Vanessa would be betroth one day, that was until she met Riza.

"Yes?" Madame replies.

"Who is that man? Do you need me to get him out of here for you?" She whispers, showing Madame a glimpse of the shiny pistol hidden on her small waist. Madame chortles at the woman's ferociousness.

"No, dear. This man is my older brother. Roy's father."

The young woman's eyes widen and she lets out a ear shattering squeal, before throwing her arms around the older man. "It's so good to meet you, Mr. Mustang!"

Noticing her assets pressed so closely to him, he whispers in her ear, earning a giggle from the young woman and a glare from his sister. "Oh, stop it, you!" Vanessa says in a seductive voice. "Now I know where Roy gets it! It will be great having a man stay with us for once. We haven't had one stay here in a long time!"

Her remark sparked up a valid uncertainty that had yet to be addressed. Where was he staying and for how long?

"Oh, darling, I couldn't impose on you lovely ladies." He responds.

'Oh cut the crap.' Chris thinks. "Where are you staying, brother?"

He looks down at his empty glass tracing the lip with his finger. His nervous habit. "I have some friends I can lodge with..."

Madame takes another tug from her cigarette, working out the dilemma in her mind. She wasn't sure how Roy would take it if he found out his estranged father was staying at the brothel. A little uncertain, she retorts, while exhaling cigarette smoke. "You can stay up in Roy's old room."

Thanking her, he follows her up to the room shortly after. "There." She says, pointing at the door before walking off into the end of the dark hallway.

He stands in the quiet hall, his hand lingering over the steel doorknob. He had only ever been on the other side of the door twice before, both under unwanted circumstances. He hoped one of Christmas' beautiful women would come up here and ease his mind from this terribly unsettling situation he was in. He needed a woman's touch, it had been quite some time since he had been intimate with anyone, after all. To his dismay, the hall remained as quiet as it was, contrary to the hustle and bustle when he arrived. With a heavy sigh, he twists the knob open and lets himself in. The room hadn't looked much different from when he was there last. Roy was an unexpected child, there was never any time to make a baby room, so his room was a spare room usually for provided for Madame's staff.

Between the crevice of the bed and the nightstand, he pulls out a photo album and settles onto the bed. Flipping through the pages, he finds photos of his son from infancy to adulthood. There are pictures of his boy losing his baby teeth, birthdays, some of him and the girls at the bar and others that he assumes were girlfriends at the time. He was a bit surprised to see the amount of photos decrease as he aged. The only photographs remaining in the album are of Roy and a dreary girl with short blonde hair in front of a sizable house, another of him and a man with short dark hair and glasses, and the final one at his military graduation.

"You know, it's not polite to look through someone's things." Speaks a husky voice from the doorway.

Startled he closes the book and tosses it onto the bed. Seeing it's his sister he lets out a sigh of relief. "Chris."

She smiles at her older sibling, aware that he had peeked at Roy's photo album. "He grew up into a wonderful man."

"It looks like you did a great job raising him."

"As much as I appreciate your compliment. The girls had a helped me tremendously. I guess his alchemy master also had a bit in his upbringing."

"Alchemy master?"

"Berthold Hawkeye. He was a strange, but good man. That ol' nut." She snorts. "Anyway, if you need anything, just give me a holler. My bedroom is where it's always been." Roy senior watches as his sister makes her way out. She wasn't exactly sure she could trust him yet, but as of right now, she had no reason to suspect anything unusual.

"Oh, and Chris..." He speaks finally, the portly woman's eyes meet his dark orbs. "Thanks."

[+]

"What have you found?" Roy asks a nervous Fuery in his subordinates' office. It had been three days since the bomb threat had occurred and he and his subordinates, including Hughes, were discussing the only leads they had, an Ishvalan sighting. Frankly, he hoped the the suspects weren't Ishvalan, if there were any survivors, the last thing they should do is threaten Amestrians. No, they should be looking for refuge elsewhere, where they wouldn't be targeted by the military.

"The only thing we found is this, Colonel Mustang." The young bespectacled soldier says, peeling of the top sheet from a stack of papers he was holding. The papers were actually military recruiting flyers with none other than Roy Mustang standing in a bravado pose in the ruins of Ishval. It was a photo taken by the press from a Central newspaper company, the Central Daily Tribune. The idea to use his photograph for the recruiting flyers was an idea the higher-ups had come up with. Despite his protests, it was agreed that no one but the Flame Alchemist could lure young citizens into joining the military. Of course, the posters wasn't what had caught young Fuery's attention, it was the words written across the flyers, 'MURDERER.'

Riza frowned, noticing Roy's jaw was unusually tense while he intently stared at the words. The picture used for the poster was a rancorous reminder of a blood-curdling past, one he'd often find swallowing his slumber, with the help of opiates and alcohol, shortly after the war. Although the words that defiled the flyers were true, it didn't mean it didn't hurt him any less.

Everyone in the room became tense at their superior's uncharacteristic silence. Mustang's unit were among the few who knew he opposed the war, despite his involvement.

Hughes peered over Roy's shoulder to get a better view of the flyers. "That's a really great photograph!" He beams trying to rid of the awkward tension in the room. Plus to admire the fine photography adorning the flyer. The Lieutenant Colonel was a man who was quite skilled with a camera himself, after all!

"Where did you find these?" Roy asks after an elongated moment of silence.

The question had made Fuery become nervous, his mouth twitching to try and form a proper response. He had only been recruited into the unit recently, and was still anxious when talking to his new superior officer. Surely he was intimidated by Colonel Matthews in Southern Headquarters, but the famed Flame Alchemist was much more frightening. "W-well actually. They were all like this. We took them down immediately but we're not sure how long they've been vandalized or how many people have seen them."

Silence ensues the office once more.

Resting his chin on his hands, Roy continues to examine the flyers closely. "Thank you, Master Sergent. You may return to your previous assignment." He states, while waving off his anxious young soldier from saluting.

"Do you suppose the bomb threat and the vandalism are related, Colonel?" Riza inquires, a bit anxious of the response. Mustang was very special to her, and she feared for his well-being. She hoped the ghastly reminder of his involvement in Ishval wouldn't cause him to isolate himself again.

"Well, it almost solidifies the Ishvalan sighting." He declares almost too forcefully. Hawkeye knew the answer, but hearing it from his mouth stung worse. Always in constant fear, he will steer off path.

"Geez, all this talk is getting me depressed. I say we take our minds off of this case and get some drinks tonight. What do you say, Chief?" Havoc questions, leaning on the hind legs of his chair. Though, his balancing act earns him a unimpressed glare from Hawkeye and he immediately straightens himself out. He was sure she would scold him later.

Hughes jovially drapes his arm around Roy's shoulders. "That sounds like a great idea, Havoc. Roy needs a night out to get his mind of all of this negativity!"

Roy sighs in exasperation. He supposed having a couple of drinks didn't sound too bad. "Alright. I probably should pay a visit to the Madame tonight anyway. I'll take you up on the offer, Havoc." His subordinates knew of the Madame and her relation to Roy, but they weren't aware of how useful she or the girls who worked for her were, save for Hughes and Hawkeye. Plus seeing his aunt would be quite useful, if anyone might have any news about any suspicious activity around the city, it was her.

"Everyone's invited. Drinks are on me!" Hughes shouts. The older bespectacled man wraps his free arm around Hawkeye. Pulling Roy and Riza close to him sides. Clearly, Maes Hughes was not a man who knew when he was invading one's personal space.

"Sorry, Lieutenant Colonel. I won't be able to join you tonight." Riza states, pulling out of the tall man's grip. Roy frowned at her declining the invitation, he was hoping she would come, it had been a long time since they spent time together when the military wasn't involved.

"Unfortunately, I won't be able to join you guys either." Breda grins, pulling a small piece of paper out of his pocket. "I have a date tonight."

Havoc glares at the pudgy red head. "That woman from the evacuation?" He asks, his question answered with a proud nod from Breda. Havoc groans. "I saw her first!"

"You're right. After you stared at her chest with your mouth wide open, it gave me a good opportunity to save her from 'that blonde pervert'." Breda quoted with an arrogant smirk. Mustang sniggers, a bit impressed with Breda's luck find such a toothsome woman and Havoc's terrible luck with the opposite sex. It was no secret to anyone that Havoc had a weakness for women with large breasts, but had a terrible time flirting with East City women, who were much more exuberant and rambunctious than the women back from his small hometown.

Riza clears her throat loudly enough to silence the men in the office. The conversation about evening plans and women's breasts was definitely getting uncomfortable. Unfortunately, her comrades were too comfortable talking about their sexual life around her. "I suggest you men get back to work." She commands. Her gaze then settles on Roy who was leaning on a desk next to Hughes. "That includes you too, Colonel." She affirms before returning to her desk.

Hughes sharply jabs his elbow into Roy's rib and shoots him a mischievous grin. "So, Hawkeye..." he whispers.

"Shut up, Hughes." Roy hisses.

[+]

Roy Sr. had become well accustomed around the brothel in the three days he had been there. The women had welcomed him graciously, much like the previous ones had over twenty years earlier. Madame had been impressed with how helpful he had become to her and the girls, cooking them meals, cleaning up the large establishment, and dismissing rowdy customers.

"The girls have taken quite a liking to you, brother." Madame says, with a ghost of smile playing on her face. She and Roy Sr. stood behind the bar fixing drinks for customers. He smiled at the remark, in fact, he was quite happy that his return to East City had been playing out rather nicely. "What made you change? She inquires, she was grateful he had been helpful but she still couldn't help but feel suspicious.

"This." He smiles warmly, holding up a gold pendant bound to his necklace. The glint under the dim lights of the bar had reminded her it was that very pendent that caught her attention three nights ago. Madame studied the pendant closely, she was familiar with the motif etched onto the gold.

"You're religious?" she questions, not at all expecting religion would bring about his change.

He held it close to his chest, closing his eyes as if he felt warmth radiating from the medallion. "After I left here all those years ago, I headed East. Some people took everything I had. They broke several of my bones and left me for dead. Then a man saved me. He took me in and treated me like family. Priest Abiasi. I would like for you to meet him one day, Chris. He changed my life." He wipes off wet rings left on the bar by the condensation of cold drinks, then collects glassware left by customers.

Madame contemplates her brother's surprising change. He was a man who had been. metaphorically speaking, reborn again through religious enlightening. He couldn't forgive himself for what he had done, so he found religion to do it for him. Religion wasn't Madame's cup of tea, but the cheap charade had definitely changed her brother.

"Chris, Do you think little Roy will ever forgive me?" He queried, his gaze fixed on the same spot on the counter he had been cleaning for the past couple of minutes.

The question had caught her off guard and she began to think about her son. Roy was not the forgiving type, nor was he the type to take his loved ones for granted, unlike his father had been. She knew Roy wasn't going to easily accept the man into his life after a sudden and unexpected appearance. She knew she had to tell Roy was bound to find out about his fathers return soon, but the reunion frightened her. What would he do? How would he act? As if on cue, she heard the front doors of the bar swing open, and three familiar voices traveled in.

She heavily sighed and her glare returned to her brother who had been meticulously cleaning the same spot on the counter. "Why don't you ask him yourself?"

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