Scalding black coffee sloshed over the rims of the Styrofoam cup, staining his perfect white gloves and burning the hell of out his fingers as he tried to shove the key in the lock of the office, muttering obscenities about coffee and silver keys and snow. Finally giving up, he sighed in agitation and ran a hand absently through styled black hair while watching the clouds move about overhead. They milled here and there and debated over which one should drop rain, or sleet, or which ones should move west or north or south, too, and hey, here was as good as anywhere and oh dear should we drop snow?

Roy Mustang would've found the cloud's banter amusing had it not been so goddamned cold outside.

"The first day I get anywhere early, and they lock me out," he muttered again, sighing once more and taking a sip of his coffee, reveling in the bitterness and the heat as it glided down his throat. He stretched and made to try the key once more, but every minute he wasn't in there he wasn't working.

If only it weren't so boring outside.

He eyed the sky as it tossed fitfully form here to there, gray clouds hovering worryingly over the city. They gave an atmosphere of uneasiness, and he suspected the general populace was hovering inside, remarking on the weather while children wished for snow. A white Christmas! People would exclaim while listening to Christmas music obnoxiously loudly on the radio. How simply delightful!

He leaned back against the peeling paint of the door, sliding down til he sat on the tacky Welcome doormat Fuery had placed there a number of years ago. "To make it look less…back-door-entranceish." He had said. Made for an alright cushion, so he wouldn't complain.

He took a cigarette out of a spare pack he kept in his military uniform for more stressful days, and twirled one around his finger while eyeing it with a faltering interest. He could light it, he supposed, but cigarette smoke is supposedly bad for children (Fullmetal would have a cow if he heard that) and, what's more, then he couldn't sit there looking absolutely brooding, angsty and, what he hoped, to be stupefyingly sexy.

And then the door opened and the Colonel fell backward onto the feet of First Lieutenant Riza Hawkeye.

So much for sexiness.

He hastily stood up and pocketed the cigarette, leaving the cooling coffee on the step and brushing himself off lightly while Hawkeye blinked at him in surprise.

It's not every day your superior officer falls backward onto your feet.

"Colonel? What're you-"

"Lieutenant," Roy replied smartly, nodding slightly before taking off down the hallway toward his office. Hawkeye sighed, rubbed her forehead, eyed the coffee longingly, before setting off down the corridor with questions relating to the back door to HQ and his previous, early morning relationship with said door.

He brushed off her questions, much to her annoyance but not surprise. He was walking with a purpose, a purpose one might have when walking toward the last muffin in a bakery or toward someone with which you will not be using churchy words and Hawkeye almost thought she knew why.

But Colonel Roy Mustang was hardly predictable.

He opened the door quietly, seeing Fuery tinker with something and Breda and Havoc smoking quietly in the back. Falman sorted papers on people's desks, for lack of things to do, and besides, unstraighted piles of documents quite bothered his easily offended sensibilities.

"Have you heard anything?" Mustang asked quietly, causing his subordinates to look up in surprise at seeing their leader so early in the day.

"Why, Colonel, usually you don't even think of coming to work until 9:15!" Breda joked, reclining back in his chair with a smug smile. "A woman tryna run you outta town?"

Behind him, Hawkeye clicked the safety off her gun.

Mustang snorted. "Have you heard anything?" He repeated sharply, tapping his foot on the linoleum impatiently. Fuery rustled around on his desk for something, and suddenly an echoing yawn erupted from the couch and a bleary little alchemist sat up groggily.

"Y..yeah. Heard anythin'?" He asked softly, his hair a tangled mess and his face ridden with exhaustion. Fuery gave a little gently smile over at Edward, the edges of his eyes turning down a little.

"Not exactly..I'm sorry, Ed.."

"S'ok. You never do," Fullmetal said, standing and stretching with groaning protests coming from his automail. Mustang nodded slightly in Fuery's direction before taking off for his office proper. On the way, he passed Ed, and without pausing to look at him, he said offhandedly, "Go home, Fullmetal. You look tired."

Ed made a few grumbling noises, and plopped down defiantly on the couch and stretched his legs languidly.

"Hey, bastard," Ed called over his shoulder, a scrap of a smile on his face. "It's snowing."

Roy stopped, taking his black eyes from the floor and looking out the foggy window, a hint of bemusement coloring his voice.

"Is it, now?"

The undercurrent had been so painfully clear you could've seen it from the eye of a hurricane in the middle of the Gulf of Mexico. "Office. Outside, in ten!"

But not you, Fullmetal.

Roy went back through the entry in which he had so gracefully entered earlier, leaving his underlings buzzing "The back door? That the Fuhrer said not to use except in fire emergencies?" "That bastard wants us outside. In the damn snow?" "Put that cigarette down, Havoc, and get outside!"

Roy waited patiently, letting snow lazily drift to land in his eyelashes and decorate the blue of his military jacket by swaddling it in comforting white. He stared off into the distance while he awaited all his team to assemble around him, clutching their coats and grumbling, until at last he heard the telltale creak of a metal leg and the crunch of platform boots on dead grass join the semi-circle around him.

"Now, team," Roy Mustang said, a laugh creeping into his voice as he addressed the sky, throwing his arms out as if to embrace it. Let the Fuhrer go to hell, he thought, smiling recklessly. Fullmetal needs- We need it.

"I order you…to have a snowball fight."

Fullmetal let out a satisfied cheer and dove head first into a small drift of snow piled up out back of HQ.

"Such as little snowdrift for such a little man," taunted Breda from across the field, hurtling a well-aimed snowball right into Edward's face as he popped up out of the snow, seething.

"Why you little~" Ed yelled, transmuting a wall of snow to come crashing down on Breda's head as Falman watched worriedly from the sidelines, until a slushball from Hawkeye's direction pegged him in the side of the head and he yelped in surprise.

And so began the war.

A little while later, while snow continued to pile up around them, the rest of the team stood on one side of the field and threw snow while Ed and Mustang transmuted creative ways to bury them in the cold wetness.

Mustang caught a glimpse of Ed from the corner of his eye. The boy's eyes were lit with concentration as he drew circles in the snow, but lit with a strange stream of happiness- one Mustang hadn't seen for a long time, and he smiled in satisfaction at himself.

"So, Fullmetal," he called after sending a wave of snow directly for Havoc's face, "What does the little shrimp want for Yuletide?"

"A pony. With fucking fire on its hooves," he called back good-naturedly, a grin slowly sliding onto his face for the first time in what felt like forever since Alphonse had been gone. A tired, pained one, but a smile nonetheless, and it reassured Mustang of his goal tonight.

"I'll be sure to wrap it and put it under the tree," Mustang promised, as Ed shot snowballs from a snowcannon much to the other side's annoyance.

"But I think I got you another gift that you'll like even more."

"Are you sure, Sergeant?" Roy barked into the phone. "This is a one-shot thing. It's tonight or nothing."

"We've tracked them down, Colonel, and they have the boy. Where's Fullmetal? Doesn't he-"

"Sergeant." Roy reprimanded, gripping the side of his desk with annoyance and anxiety. "I've got to find Alphonse Elric. I don't give a fuck about anything else. Is that clear?"

"Sir, yes sir," affirmed the soldier on the other line, and Mustang slammed the phone down with a new air of purpose. He turned to face the alchemists behind him, old friends from low places and old enemies from high ones, all ready to stand at his back and follow him into battle. Much like his own team, who were home sleeping fitfully in their beds like one tends to do the day before Christmas, and Mustang longed for his team.

But this was too dangerous water to tread without them drowning, and Mustang had to keep his team above water. He pledged it on everything he held dear, which were alchemy tomes and street corner prostitutes.

He slid his gloves over his elegant hands and looked upon the men before him with the eyes of a king.

"Ready?"

"Sir!"

And they set off into the night in search of a missing little boy who held his brother's heart.

"Come into the office. That jerk! On Christmas! 'He's got a gift for you', she says. It better be that damn horse," Ed grumbled, sliding his trademark red coat over his thin frame. The mirror in the flat told him the obvious things: he was too skinny. He was over-exhausted, and he was draining his spirit with every step.

"I don't care," he told himself, turning away from the mirror in a fit of revulsion. "Al didn't stop. I can't, then, either."

He hardly noticed as he climbed the stairs to Central HQ by habit. His mind was in a faraway wandering place, a magic place where his brother could look at him with those innocent eyes of his and ask 'You're not serious, are you? We can't bring mom back..' where Al had the body of a child like he deserved, before the metal.. before-

Ed blinked rapidly to keep tears out of his eyes. "Don't cry on Christmas," he muttered. "You damn jerk. Makin' me think of things.."

He stomped loudly down the hall when he reached the midway point with renewed vigor, so much that every secretary on duty leaned out of her desk and greeted Ed as he walked past. Building momentum, he flung open the office door with a vulgar word slipping from his mouth-

As up and down lost meaning and the floor slid away from beneath him with the gentle rock of a hurricane.

"Brother!" Al yelped, disbelief and surprise and worry flooding his voice all at the same time. "Is it you! Brother! Brother!"

Ed didn't quite grasp up and down so he went to left from right, and this seemed to work, as he stumbled weakly to his feet, overcome with happiness. It was his brother. Not the metal cage Edward had made him into, but a real human- fragile, and weak, but real, back from months of missing and absence and leaving Ed empty and-

"Where the hell've you been!" Ed cried out, hugging his brother as Hawkeye watched the reunion quietly from across the room. "I thought you were gone-"

"The Colonel thought he had a lead, and he stayed late last night to track down the people that had your brother." Hawkeye cut in from across the room, causing Ed to break free of his brother's feeble embrace for the time being as his swivled his golden orbs across the room to find the bastard.

"Well, where's he?" Ed demanded, the biggest lopsided happy grin swimming across his handsome face. "I owe the bastard a thank you at the very least!"

"The Colonel…ah…couldn't make it today." Riza replied, her tone clipped and professional but her eyes filled with pure grief and pain. The ache of her eyes just marginally missed her voice, and Ed caught the catch, looking up to meet her brown eyes and the pit of his stomach dropping slowly and cautiously toward the ground.

Ed let out a little hysterical laugh. "Certainly.. you don't mean.."

"N-n-no.."

The room was silent, apart from Ed's heaving breathing. Alphonse called out, reaching for his brother, confusion seeping into his brain as the color left his brother. "What about the Colonel?" He asked, worry creeping into his voice at Ed's actions. "W-what's going on?"

Still no reply.

"Brother!"

"No.." Fullmetal was saying over and over, swaying to the mantra that slipped from his mouth. Another hysterical laugh slipped through, and Ed bent over and grabbed his knees, feeling the blood rush to his head. "He didn't-"

But one look around the room at everyone's face told Edward Elric exactly what Colonel Roy Mustang did and didn't do.

Ed grabbed wildly at the air, sinking to his knees as he stared at the pristine white floor in horror.

"I knew it!" He shouted, voice trembling as tears threatened to spill down his pallid cheeks. "It's alchemy! You have to trade your damn alchemy!" The loss and the pain ripped down through his chest. "He didn't! That bastard!"

"Brother!" Al shook Edward's body as he gripped at the floor, golden eyes overcome with grief and selfloathing and no longer sight or comprehension. Al's cries rose in frequency as his brother fell to pieces before him moments after being reunited. "BROTHER?"

"He…that…stupid IDIOT!" Ed yelled, a few tears escaping as his head swiveled toward where Hawkeye sat, tears of her own streaming down her face. "I could've done it! I should've!"

"Tell me he didn't. Please," Edward begged hollowly, his voice quivering as he brushed matted golden hair from a tear streaked face. "Please. Please!"

Alphonse looked up at Hawkeye, desperate to help his brother, but realized she was a mirror image of his brother; completely broken, pain the registered emotion, and though more reigned in on Hawkeye, he could see through her like glass, see every droplet of emotion.

"Did..something happen to Mustang?" Al questioned loudly, shaking his head in a nonbelieving way. "What? No.."

And all Hawkeye had to offer the boys was this:

"Merry Christmas."