Disclaimer I do not own Fullmetal Alchemist or anything by Hiromu Arakawa.

Thank You
Revised Edition

"Another drink."

"Roy, you already had—"

"Another drink." The general insisted, his onyx eyes boring into the bartender's brown ones – but they seemed to look right part him, haunted, as if he were looking into a nightmare.

The bar tender sighed, walking away to get another drink for the military man. "You're gonna' get a real bad hangover tomorrow."

Roy sat slumped in his chair, staring into what was left of the amber liquid in his glass. He was still in his military uniform, although most of it was hidden by the charcoal coat he was wearing. The only things that gave him away were the little show of the navy blue pants as he sat down and the standard issue military boots. He hadn't bothered to change – less people would disturb him once they saw the uniform. Anyone knew better than to mess with Amestrian military.

The bar was quiet that particular night, but it didn't really matter. He wouldn't have been able to hear anything with the things that were going through his head. Through his eyes, he wasn't seeing the recently polished black floor of the bar, the various bottles of liquor he had emptied or the sickening yellow glow that the dim lights gave off – no – he was seeing the plains of a harsh desert, the charred and broken bodies that were piling up everywhere and what he was hearing were the screams. They seemed to go on forever, each person's scream adding to another, merging to form on terrifying mass of sound.

Roy face scrunched up, as he proceeded to drink down the remaining contents of his glass. He set it down as he recalled the faces of the people he murdered in cold blood, the faces of those who had looked at him with such pure hate and terror.

He hated this day – the first of March... He remembered it vividly – their unit's radio had announced that it had all ended, just like that. He had been called a hero for his mass murder, he had went home being told to continue his life as if nothing happened and he had been given a reputation and his old life back. Not to mention a promotion. It sickened him to the core.

"Here." The bartender returned, refilling the empty glass in Roy's hands. The general glanced up and gave a brief nod, a form of acknowledgement. He and the bartender had known each other for years, but still the man didn't know why he acted the way he was; he probably thought he had been too young to had been in the war then. It was the same every year.

Except for the last five years… for the last five years, a certain bespectacled man with lime green eyes and black hair had stopped coming along with Roy to the bar on this particular day. That certain man was Maes Hughes – the man that had been Roy's best friend, one of his most trusted men and one of the strongest pillars of support. But he had been. That was the difference.

There had been someone to talk about the war to, someone who knew the pain and someone to stop him from doing anything stupid on this way. Something stupid like going to the nearest building and jumping from its roof.

But now… there was no one to do that. Riza was currently out of the country, on a mission he had sent her on against her wishes; to get her off is back. A stupid decision to make, he realized. He drank down more the scotch, wiping the thought from his mind. More scotch meant less thinking, less thinking meant less remembering and less remembering meant there were higher chances of getting proper sleep later on. One without nightmares.

He looked down at the handgun he kept securely attached to his belt. The polished black metal reflected the light and gleamed back at him, as if beckoning the man, taunting him to take it out and use it. The thought of who would miss him crossed his mind as he went on to reach the gun, ignoring the voice of reason at the back of his head.

"You know that's not a good idea." He had heard. Strange, his voice of reason didn't sound a lot like him. It sounded familiar, though…

"If you want to be shot, just don't do your paperwork." The voice said, "Hawkeye would be ecstatic to get some target practice done."

The raven haired man turned sharply behind him, realizing that the voice had come from an actual person. His eyes widened as he recognised the man he was facing and chocked out his name, "Edward."

"What, no Fullmetal this time?" the blond mocked. It had sounded sarcastic, but there was a different edge to it… It was lacking the usual sharpness it had, somehow. The general looked away from Edward, staring back into the amber liquid through the clear glass.

Edward sighed softly, dragging a nearby chair to Roy's side and sitting on it. He faced forward when he spoke, and Roy couldn't see the look Edward had in his eyes while they were covered by his bangs. "… Hawkeye told me something like this would happen."

"Is that so?" Roy muttered, attempting to take another sip from his glass before a strong hand grabbed his wrist and forced him to set it back down on the wooden table. The older man gave an annoyed growl and snapped at the younger, looking away while trying to shake Edward's hand off, "Just leave me alone, Fullmetal."

"No." the blond responded firmly, ignoring the sudden change in name. The general clenched his teeth, turning back to Edward to give the boy a good argument. But the words died out in his throat as he came eye with him. Face to face.

The anger and annoyance ebbed away as he realized that although Edward's voice had been somewhat sarcastic and mocking before, it had a soft edge. He realized why, as he looked into hose golden orbs that were Edward's eyes.

They were laced with concern as his features were lines with worry. He also saw sadness in those depths, along with tinges of understanding. It was then that the general realized that Edward Elric was no longer the boy that had thrown profanities at anyone who had pissed him off or broke into tantrums and raved because of a few teasing words. The Edward Elric standing before him now was a man, a man with eyes that held an amount of knowledge and understanding that were beyond his years.

It had been a about a year ago, when they found out that Edward and Alphonse had returned safely from the other side of the gate. His brother gave up an arm as a passage fee and had made sure the entrance on the other side would be destroyed by a trusted friend. Since then, Edward Elric had re-enlisted into the military and had been given back his rank as a major and as a state alchemist. Alphonse Elric on the other hand, went back to Risembool and married Winry after taking automail surgery and now resides there was one of the most renowned vets in Amestris.

"I'm not gonna' let you waste away like this and there's no way in hell am I 'bout to let you think of doing anything stupid." Edward told the older man as he proceeded to grab Roy's arm and help him up from his pathetic state. "Now come one, get up."

Roy made no protests as he was dragged off his chair. It seemed that the effects of all the alcohol were finally kicking in. It had always taken a lot more than a few bottles to make Roy even slightly tipsy. Even if he had made a comment, he was sure to stutter or mutter something completely unintelligible if he tried.

"I killed so many people." Roy muttered under his breath, feeling a little more sober after puking his guts out. He sat hunched over on a bench beside Edward in the middle of Central park. It was a full moon that night and its glow shone over the park, making up for the lack of light in the park since it was past midnight.

"I wasn't even thinking as I snapped my fingers." Roy continued, facing the ground as Edward looked up at the sky. "I just killed, and killed and kept on walking. I watched their faces as I burned them alive and turned them to ashes. I didn't stop even though the pleaded and begged, even when they tried to protect their family, even when the mothers tried to shield and hide their children, oh god, the children—!"

The general buried his face in his hands, gripping at his hair. All his masks, all his defenses were gone now – utterly crushed into pieces.

"…Roy." The blond said, turning to face the man with a look of sorrow. The general raised his head, staring at nothing, his eyes distant as he spoke again.

"Did you know that my teacher was Hawkeye's father? He had hated it when I joined the military, now I finally understand what he had meant… when he said that I wasn't ready to become the flame alchemist…I was so fucking naïve… I thought— I thought that if I enlisted, I would be able to do some good. To be able to help and use alchemy for the people. Not for some bloody war, not to kill."

"I said that I would protect those under me and those under me would protect those under them." The dark haired man smiled slightly, as a shadow passed through his eyes. "Maes had called it a geometric progression. He was the one that told me to aim for Fuhrer, if I really wanted to protect everyone. He said he would support me from below, because he wanted to see how far such green roots would take me, the idiot. Now he's gone, because of another one of my mistakes."

"…I'm pathetic." He finished, hands going limp at his sides as he leaned back against the bench.

"Don't you dare say that."

Roy turned to the younger man, slightly surprised by the annoyed and angry tone the blond had taken. He met with hose eyes again – those golden eyes that had, no, that still burn with the same flame he saw on the day he had found him in Risembool, missing an arm and a leg.

"We're all human, Mustang. We make mistakes and we fall. But you," the blonde's gaze softened, "you got up and carried on. You're self contradictory, you know that? You say you're pathetic but you still aim for Fuhrer. You still strive towards your goals no matter how many times you fallen. Hughes would've been proud of you for that."

"Believe it or not, I admired you when and I was a child." Edward paused, "…No. I still do. When you came through Granny Pinako's door that day and offered me a job as a state alchemist, you taught me to move forward. You gave me something to cling onto and carry on. Al and I are where we are now because of you."

"Even if you were an arrogant bastard, I had to admit you were... are a good arrogant bastard." Edward stated, as he rose from the bench.

"So, let me repeat, Roy Mustang – don't you dare call yourself pathetic." The blond finished and then gave the older man a soft smile, appearing almost angelic as the moon's glow shone on him, his tied up hair swaying in the slight wind. Those golden eyes locked with onyx ones for a while, before he broke the connection, smiling to himself.

"Now come one, let's get you home. Hawkeye will turn me into Swiss cheese if I leave your drunken ass in the middle of Central park." Edward told him, chuckling slightly afterwards.

The raven haired man sat and stared for a bit, letting the blonde's words sink in. Then, slowly, a small smile formed on his lips. With some difficulty, he got up from where he was standing and put his hands in the side pockets of his coat. Together, the two alchemists walked from the park to Roy's house. It was already nearby, so it wasn't much trouble, really.

When they finally got to the door of the flame alchemist's home, Roy stopped and turned to his subordinate. He stared once again into those eyes for a few moments before Edward shifted, staring to feel awkward and unsettled. "What?"

Roy continued to stare, much to Edward's displeasure before he finally broke his gaze, muttering a few barely audible words. "…Thank you."

It was Edward turn to stare, his eyes going wide like saucers. He rarely heard the man thank anyone, let alone him. Then, a soft smile graced his lips yet again as he turned the other direction and started walking off.

"No problem… bastard." He said, in a teasing tone loud enough for Roy to hear. Roy's brows rose slightly before he smirked.

"That's General bastard to you… Edward" Roy replied, his voice softening on the last word. The blond stopped for a second and stared back at the general for a second time, and then grinned, waving him off.

Roy watched Edward Elric walk until the blond was out of sight. He turned back the door and entered his home, locking it as he went in. Then he took of his shoes, got into a bath, changed his clothes and went to bed.

And for the first time in years, he had no nightmares that night.

AN: Basically? I realised something after re-reading the other 'Thank You' again... It was crap in the purest form.
So here is the edited, hopefully-not-so-crappy version! I hope it's better and that you enjoyed it.

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