Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Amestris, 1915

Roy scrunched up his nose at the dusty book in his hand. It was the fifth he'd found that morning among the remnants of Central HQ tunnels — inside the lair of the one the Homunculi had called Father. Much like the four books before it, this one was too damaged to be legible.

What a shame.

He'd hoped they could find something useful there, some hidden knowledge the Homunculi may have been keeping from them. So far all he'd found was dust and rubble. 

Roy tossed the ruined book into the growing pile of discarded volumes. A small cloud of dust raised from it, making him sneeze. Loudly. Then he sneezed again when he brought his dusty hand to cover his mouth.

"Here, sir." Riza offered him a handkerchief with an amused smile on her lips.

Roy accepted it, but not before scowling at her. "What's so funny, Lieutenant?"

"Nothing, Colonel. It just reminded me of your early days in my father's library."

Ah. 

Roy too smiled fondly at the memory.

He'd never seen so many Alchemy books in one place before Master Hawkeye's library. He'd been so excited about it that he'd spent all his free time there, reading. But — much like the rest of the house —  the library had been collecting layers of dust for years, and his constant sneezing had echoed through the empty halls day after day. He'd found Riza cleaning the library for him after his second month there. He could smile about it now, but back then he'd been so embarrassed to find his master's young daughter cleaning after him, that he'd spent the rest of his apprenticeship making sure the library remained dust free.

He wondered what had happened to all of his master's books. The man had some that might interest the Elrics. He would have to ask Riza about them. Later. When the city didn't look like the aftermath of a war zone. 

The thought brought to his mind the memory of another destroyed city. One filled with blood soaked sand instead of concrete and metal.

Roy coughed and pushed the image away.

"I hope there are less spiders in here."

"You should probably be worrying about finding bigger things, sir."

Like the many Chimera corpses they'd seen on the way there.

Roy grimaced and was about to reply when he heard someone calling him from the other side of the room.

"Colonel Mustang!" The young soldier saluted them. "The sector three squad is requesting your help. There's a collapsed roof and a wall blocking their way."

"Can't Major Armstrong help them? I'm a bit busy right now."

The boy flushed. "M–Major Armstrong is busy helping sector eight, sir. One of their tunnels collapsed and trapped half of the squad."

Roy sighed. 

This was the third collapsed tunnel that week. Even if they had tried to keep injuries to a minimum, the Homunculi had caused heavy losses for all the troops. The cleaning effort was mostly composed of young Central soldiers and their inexperience showed.

He was about to pass a hand through his hair when he remembered how dirty it was. He let it drop to his side. "Lead the way then."

"Sir!"

The collapsed area turned out to be inside of a big open room, similar to the one where they had fought the failed Fuhrer candidates. Roy had to resist the urge to look at Hawkeye to confirm she was alright, to break the mental image of her helplessly bleeding out on the floor of a similar room. He scratched the healing scar on his right hand. Better get this over quickly, before anyone — or rather before Hawkeye — noticed how uncomfortable it made him.

"Stand back. I'll clear the path to the exit tunnel."

The soldiers quickly moved out of his way, standing near the entrance. Strangely enough, Hawkeye didn't. Not immediately. He could feel her hover at his side for a moment before she finally followed the others. That was all Roy needed to know being there was affecting her just as much.

He clapped his hands and planted them on the damaged floor, desperate to get them both out of there as soon as possible.

The moment he did so the ground beneath him shook violently and a bright light filled the room. It took him a second to understand what was happening, and another one for the fear to get a hold of him. There was a transmutation circle partially hidden underneath all the rubble, and he had just activated it.

Hawkeye's scared "Colonel!" was the last thing he heard before the light took him.

Roy was surrounded by an endless white nothingness. Dread set in his gut when the sense of Déjà Vu hit him. He'd seen this before. He had been here before. When–

"I must say. I didn't expect to see you here again so soon, Alchemist."

No, no, no.

Not this.

Not again.

Roy's heart beat painfully in his chest as he turned to face the ethereal figure they'd come to know as the truth, standing in front of the now familiar gate. 

Roy shook his head. 

Fate couldn't be so cruel as to force him through the gate twice. 

"Don't. Please. I didn't mean to do it."

And just like last time his plea fell to deaf ears.

The gate opened and its eye stared back at him. 

Truth smirked.

"I wonder what awaits you on the other side."

Amestris, 1917

Roy had already been down there before, to those underground ruins, what felt like lifetimes ago. 

He'd easily found the way he'd gone again. He found the church, went straight to the altar, remembered how it opened. Easy. 

Far easier to do when you were not frantic about saving some kid's arse. 

The secret passage opened in a rumble of old stone. Roy snatched the electric torch from his pocket. He'd taken it from the office supplies – under his Lieutenant's quizzical stare. But he had not told her where he was going. 

Riza… he ought to talk with her, one day or another. Preferably soon. But it was all so raw, still, and the extent of his stupidity, the way he'd treated her this last year, after she'd been so kind to him, appalled him. It made him feel absolutely inadequate. 

The way she'd looked at him when he finally reappeared out of nowhere to fight this ridiculous army of knights didn't help. It didn't help at all. 

The way her eyes shone. The fondness in them. He couldn't get it out of his mind. He was convinced that what he'd deserved back then — and still did — was a good scolding. 

Roy, lost in thoughts, started going down the stairs, his steps echoing in the dark. Humidity made the old stone wall glisten in the weak ray of light he carried. The air smelled damp and moldy, contrasting to what he knew he would find down there. 

Dust. Lots of dust and ruins. Dry stones and bones. The taste of the air on his tongue had almost made him think of Ishval, the first time he'd come down there. Same desolation. Same ruin. It only lacked ashes and the cloying sickly-sweet smell of burning human flesh. 

The light flickered and Roy had to stop as he found himself in total darkness. Cursing loudly, he shook the torch, and when nothing happened, he hit it a couple of times against the palm of his free hand. The light blinked back on and he carried on. 

Right. Saving Ed. Didn't work. But the little imp came back all by himself. And then Al jumped with him. So it wasn't one, but two kids who needed help back now. He owed that to them. And maybe to the Rockbell girl. 

Just as Al had asked, he'd destroyed the door to that other world they had disappeared in, with the help of Armstrong. But that didn't mean he couldn't study what was left of it. Learn how it worked. And find a way to bring them back. 

After a while, he could glimpse a low light, down there, at the bottom of the stairs. Darkness was replaced by a dull grey light, growing in intensity with each new step down. 

Roy climbed down the last steps, and found himself in front of the ruins, once again. 

He stopped for a minute, taking it all in. The massive cave. The broken, empty, wrecked buildings that extended as far as the eye could see. The looming idea that every single person who lived in these walls once had been obliterated. This place felt like the antithesis of life, somehow. 

The dust sounded like sand under his boots, and looked like ash to his eye. If he'd closed it, he could picture the twisted, charred remains of what once had been humans. 

It really wasn't any different. 

Better not to dwell on it.

The transmutation circle was easy to find, standing like a clearing in the rubble.

When he and Alex had come to destroy it, Roy had found various blood stains around, that had not been there the first time he'd come. But the only person who could explain where those came from couldn't answer him. 

For now. 

Now the blood had turned dark brown and was barely discernible from the inscriptions on the ground. The ones he'd allowed to remain, anyway. 

He placed the torch back in his pocket, and produced a notebook and a pencil from the other one. He first walked around the circle, sketching a rough outline. The parts he'd destroyed, and the ones he had commanded Alex to do so, were already etched down in detail on the previous pages. 

He would not let years, centuries perhaps, of alchemy research go to waste. 

Once satisfied with his crude rendering, he stepped inside the circle, kicking debris out of the markings to get a better look at them. 

He was right in the middle when they started to glow, an almost blinding, purple light. 

"Oh, shit, what–" 

Roy stepped aside, ready to leap outside of the randomly activated transmutation circle—

And found himself in the middle of nothing. A very white and bright nothing. 

" –the fuck…" 

Narrowing his eye, he turned around, seeing only white until he was fully turned around. 

He was standing in front of a gigantic, ornamented gate. It was set in the middle of nothing, a big pillar on each side, under a lintel adorned with statues. 

The inhumane ways the stone bodies twisted promised nothing good, reminiscent as they were of the way corpses wrung and contorted in Roy’s fire before they turned to ashes. 

A dry laugh echoed faintly, seemingly coming from all directions at once, and the stone doors opened, inch by inch, revealing pitch black darkness, among which a multitude of eyes shone. 

Roy didn't have time to analyze anything more in detail, as dozens of tiny arms shot for him, dark tendrils curling around his arms, his legs, his torso, his face, and pulled him towards the gate. 

It was the stuff of nightmares. The stuff of his nightmares. Except these hands weren't humans sized, these hands weren't burning, melting his skin as they touched him. In fact, they were rather cold. Freezing. 

It was the last thought that crossed his mind before everything went black. 

Chapter Text

Amestris, 1915

Roy shook his head, dizzy. He must have fallen on his knees. He didn't remember. A distressed cry startled him. 

"Sir!" 

Riza? What was Riza doing— 

But something stopped him from looking up at her. His hands were sprawled under him on the ground. He could see them. Very well. There was something weird on them, but — no time to register that. 

Roy blinked, his hand shooting to his face, feeling perfectly smooth skin and — his left eye was there, and it was… working. He closed it, prodded the eyelid gently — his fingers felt a little numb, but he didn’t dwell on it. He opened his eye again. 

He could see from his left eye. 

He got his eye back!

As absolutely miraculous as it was, as happy as he was, his mind started reeling. What had happened? The transmutation circle… He knew human transmutation could take things from you, but it couldn’t give back for nothing, or the Elrics would have… and he had not activated the circle himself, it had just… 

A hand brushed his shoulder. Roy turned to Riza, his hand still on his face, index and middle finger right under his left eye, on the soft, absolutely not scarred skin there, smiling like a madman. 

The look of anguish he saw in her eyes sobered him, and made him forget for a second that she had not been there with him just mere seconds before. 

"Sir, the transmutation circle… your eyes… is it… can you…?" She seemed to calm down when he gave her back her glance, and didn't elaborate, closing her eyes and sighing in relief. He felt he had to answer her, even if he still had no idea what she was doing there or how she had followed him. Or why she wasn’t asking about the obvious — surely, she would be more than just relieved to see he had gotten his eye back, even if they weren’t as close as they used to be? Because he himself felt more than relieved. He was ecstatic. The hand on his face ached, a dull pain throbbed in both his hands, actually, but he didn’t stop to think about it. 

"Well,” he couldn’t help but giggle, “if you’re asking about that, I can see better than I have in a while, but– " He stopped. 

He wasn’t in the same place he’d been before the circle activated. A warm sun shone through cracks in a low, arched ceiling. The ground was strewn with debris, and a number of soldiers around them were cleaning them, pushing them to the side, uncovering the wide transmutation circle he stood on. He frowned. 

Then he tried to get up, to investigate further, only to be cut in half by an intense pain in the abdomen, pulling him back to the ground, where his hands, receiving his weight brutally, inflicted yet more pain on him. He rolled onto his right side, groaning, trying to catch his breath, his left hand holding his left side, his eyes watering. 

(both his eyes. Hah.)
 
It burned. It pulled. It felt stiff and weak at the same time. It felt like being—

Was it the price for his eye? 

“Sir! Colonel, what's wrong?” 

Riza was leaning over him, concern on her face. Something else was also slowly taking its place there. The crease on her brow wasn’t only from worry. Roy noticed a healed, thin scar on her cheekbone, and a thicker, very pink one, barely peeking out from her usual black turtleneck. 
It was his turn to frown. When had Riza sustained these wounds? 

“There’s something on my side–” 

“Is your scar bothering you, sir?” Riza’s tone was almost cold, now. 

Roy scowled. What scar? But it did feel like one, didn’t it? The pain sprawled from his lower abdomen to his back, taking almost the full left side of his torso. It felt both like an extended, high degree burn, and, somehow, like he’d been stabbed. Surely he couldn’t have suffered both at the same time? And when? And his hands — he looked at them for real, now. Both his hands bore thick, barely healed scars. Looking at them, being aware of them, increased the pain, and he let out a shaky breath. His ring and pinky finger in the right one took a conscious, painful effort to uncurl from his palm. He bit down a yelp. No wonder his fingers felt numb. 

But all the pain he was in was nothing compared to the wave of terror and incomprehension that hit him when he turned his head and instead of seeing Riza, he saw the barrel of her gun. She drew back the hammer, slowly. Her face was cold, expressionless. Her eyes screamed. Screamed what, he wasn’t sure. 

Roy’s heart thumped in his ears. 

The transmutation circle. 

The transmutation circle that brought Ed and Al to another world. 

“Sir. Tell me. How did you get these scars?” 

Riza’s tone could have frozen the biggest of infernos instantly. He didn’t remember ever hearing her talk with this tone of voice — much less to him. 

The soldiers had stopped working and had gathered around them. He could see a couple of familiar faces there; no one else from his team, but soldiers he’d crossed regularly in HQ. 

You're on the other side. In the other world — no. Ed had told him; there was no alchemy where he was trapped. So this was… another one? An unknown world?

Think quick. Play dumb. You don't know this Riza. 

“Hawkeye. Lieutenant, I–”

“Tell me, sir.”

Still on his side, he held his hands up in a soothing gesture. If he’d thought she could be terrifying before… 

“Listen, Lieutenant. It’s going to sound very–”

“You don’t know.” She was slowly shaking her head, her eyes open wide, fixed on him. 

“I do, I– well, it looks like I’ve been stabbed, at least–” 

He couldn't lie to Riza. Not anymore. 

Even if it was not Riza. 

She closed her eyes, took a deep breath, then opened them again. 

“Who are you?” 

“I’m– Cor–" he hesitated, seeing Riza's expression shift. She knew him, alright. She'd called him Colonel. So. Not Corporal Mustang. But he decided not to take any risks – and looking down at his own uniform wouldn't exactly help his case. 

"Roy Mustang. We've worked together for years. Since I got back from Ishval. Lieutenant, please. I have no idea what you're talking about. I have– I have no idea how I got these wounds. They're. They're new to me. I don't know. I have no idea what happened, I– I don't remember." 

Roy was surprised when she lowered her gun and came closer to him. When she spoke again, her voice was low, almost a whisper. Low enough so that the soldiers wouldn't hear her. 

Her breath was shaky.

"Colonel. What's on my back?" 

"Your. Your back? What–" 

He looked at her, puzzled. 

He'd seen her counterpart. He'd undressed her. Only once. Only once, but every single second of this time together had been committed to his memory. He'd seen her in full, felt her curves, kissed her milky skin, watched how her back arched when — there was nothing. Nothing specific. 

He looked at her with all the earnestness he could muster, hoping the images and feelings she'd just stirred up had not affected his expression. 

"I don't know. I don't remember. I'm sorry, I–" 

Please Riza. Please. 

Riza bit her lips, and pushed her gun against his temple. Her breath might be shaky, but her hand was as steady as ever. 

Roy's guts wrenched. 

"Give me one good reason not to pull the trigger." 

Roy gulped, tensed, and shuddered when his side reminded him of its existence. He couldn't help but close his eyes, his mind blank, his breath short. 

"Berthold." He let out, the lowest he could. "Berthold, ah. He always took his tea in the conservatory. Never in the library, never in the living room, always there under the glass roof, even if it rained or snowed. You– you brought it to him there." 

The metal brushed against his temple, an almost imperceptible move. Roy kept his eyes closed.
 
"Continue." 

"You'd always put too much sugar in mine. Only told you– ah– I only told you once you started working under my command." 

The gun left his temple. Roy went on. 

"You take yours black, very black, with a teaspoon of sugar and just a hint of milk. I– I– I bring one to your desk every time I, uh, do something wrong to you, and the team knows not to annoy you on the days I'm the one who brings the tea." 

There was no answer, no more metal against his skin. Just heavy breathing. 

He gave her a sidelong glance, opening his eyes at last. She was still crouching pretty close to him, her gun on her knee, looking at him with eyes that were just a little too glassy. She was again shaking her head almost imperceptibly. 

Then she seemed to find her footing back, and everything disappeared from her face, hidden under a cold, collected mask. Roy felt a pang when she pointed her gun at him again — not at his face, though, and with less intent. She picked his left pocket, pulling his gloves out of it while looking him directly in the eye. 

She got up, and addressed the soldiers around them. 

"Take the Colonel to the jail cells in building E. They should be free. Keep his hands separated. Do not let him clap his hands, understood? Find a way to keep him in the cell this way, too. I am going to Fuhrer Grumman immediately." 

The soldiers looked puzzled, but it was nothing compared to Roy's own bewilderment. 

Clapping? 

Like FullMetal? 

The soldiers — he seemed to remember the tall one was called Boyd — hesitated for a split second. 
 
Roy held his hands up, and played along, tilting his head towards a frowning Riza.  

"You heard the Lieutenant. Help me get up, and I'll follow you nicely." 

Amestris, 1917

Roy woke up with a pained groan. His head felt like it was about to split in two. There was dull throbbing pain on his left temple, similar to the onset of migraine, which only increased in intensity whenever he moved. He groaned again, feeling a wave of nausea hit him. 

What the hell had he been doing to—

The gate!

He sat up abruptly, ignoring the pain and nausea. He could feel his frantic heartbeat in his ears as he checked his body for any missing limbs. He could see. So at the very least they hadn't taken his sight again. Both arms and legs were there, and nothing inside him hurt aside from… the left side of his head. 

That's when he noticed it.

The lack of sight in his left eye.

Slowly, he brought up a trembling hand to the left side of his face, and felt a large patch of fabric covering it. He grabbed the edge and pulled it down. He still couldn't see. He brought his fingers to where his eye should be, but all he felt was an uneven expanse of mangled skin. 

No eyebrow. 

No eyelashes. 

No eyelid. 

Just scar tissue.

Vile rose up his throat right before he hunched over and vomited all over the floor. Angry tears welled up in his right eye, and he punched the ground. Hard. Once. Twice. 

After what he'd done to get his sight back, after tainting his hands with even more Ishvalan souls, he'd gone and lost his left eye. How stupid did he have to be? He knew the tunnels were full of transmutation circles and runes. Why hadn't he checked before using alchemy? What would he tell everyone now? What would Hawke—

Riza!

Roy looked around, searching for the Lieutenant, only to find himself alone.

"What–"

He didn't know where he was. He didn't recognize the wrecked buildings all around him. One look up at the cavernous roof high above, told him he was no longer in the underground tunnels. At the very least not in a part they had explored before. 

Had the transmutation transported him somewhere else — like it'd transported him to Father's lair last time?

He tried to get up, to try to find his way back to the tunnels, when he noticed his unscarred hands.

"–the fuck?"

Roy snapped his fingers, testing the muscles in his hands. The pain he'd become intimately familiar with in the past month was gone. It wasn't just his hands. There was a suspicious lack of pain in his left side. A quick inspection of his abdomen confirmed the scar there was gone too. There wasn't a single trace of either wounds. Not one. It was as if they had never happened.

His mind started racing.

Why would Truth take his left eye, but heal his scars? 

It made no sense. 

It was against the very principle of Alchemy. Nothing could be obtained without giving something of equal value in exchange. If his eye had been taken as the price for crossing the gate, then what had they taken in order to cure his scars? 

A terrible thought crossed his mind. 

What if someone had tried to save him? What if someone — if Hawkeye — had jumped into the transmutation circle? Would Truth use them as material? Was that why he'd gotten something back too?

Roy retched at the thought, and a painful knot formed in his throat.

It couldn't be that. He couldn't afford to have more blood on his hands. Not due to his own stupidity. And if it had been Hawkeye… he didn't know what he would do. He would never survive losing her. He just couldn't. The mere thought of something happening to her frightened him. He could never live with the knowledge that he had failed to protect her.

He needed to find her.

Now.

Roy got up, not before noticing the notebook and pencil on the ground next to him. He grabbed them both and frowned when he recognized the handwriting on the notebook. It was his, but he didn't remember writing any of it. Nor did he recognize the transmutation circle sketched in it. A Human Transmutation circle of all things. 

He put the notebook inside his pocket, for later, and his hands touched something hard inside. He was surprised to see an electric torch that had definitely not been there before.

"What the hell have I gotten myself into this time?" he muttered as he looked at the path ahead.

Roy walked, and walked, and walked through the endless stone path. Every step he took, every ruined building he passed, made it clear this wasn't just another part of the underground tunnels. That place used to be a city. One that at some point must have been bustling with life. Ten of thousands of people by his estimation of whom only cold stone and dry decaying bones remained to prove they'd ever existed.

He knew of only one thing that could create such a desolated sight. 

The philosopher's stone. 

Roy clenched his fists and marched forward, concentrating on looking for a way back to the surface. To Central. To Riza. Still, he couldn't help but wonder what that place had been called. How the people there had lived. How their last moments had been. If they had suffered. Hopefully it hadn't been as terrifying for them as it had been for the Ishvalans, even if the stale air in there somehow reminded him of the blood soaked desert.

He was beginning to consider if making his way to the surface with alchemy would be better when he reached a small tunnel with stairs. Roy rested a hand on the damp cold stone of the tunnel's wall and leaned forward. There was only darkness as far as his single eye could see, but a soft draft of warm wind tickled his skin. There was an exit somewhere in there. 

He reached for the electric torch in his pocket and turned it on, only for it to immediately flicker out of life. He cursed under his breath, and shook it harshly. When nothing happened he placed the torch on the ground, clapped his hands and touched it with his right hand. He'd never studied the structure of a torch before, but since he'd opened the door these things seemed to come to him naturally. Blue sparks illuminated his face and the light blinked back to life. 

He carried on step by step into the unknown.

An abandoned church awaited him at the end of the dark staircase. One unlike any he'd seen before, old and full of imagery he didn't recognize. Not that he was an expert. He'd never believed in religion himself. The closest he'd ever been to it was through Martha's daily prayers. Kind and sweet Martha who had already been a veteran among the Madame's girls by the time he ended up under her care. Martha who used to ruffle his hair and say "God knows why He's given us this path, Roy."

If he'd ever believed in those words, that had stopped the moment he'd been asked to burn children alive. He'd rather kill than venerate a God who would give anyone such a twisted path.

Roy turned the electric torch off and continued walking forward with a heavy heart, weighted down by memories he hadn't contemplated in years. The church's old rusted doors creaked under his hands as he pushed them open. He squinted his eye and blinked when the daylight reached him. 

He didn't know what he expected to find outside but Central's old district wasn't it at all.

The buildings around him looked somehow askew, and yet there was no denying he was in the middle of Central. He'd played through these streets countless times as a child. His aunt's bar should be not too far west of where he was standing. And yet…

Roy turned around and looked at the church he'd just exited.

He didn't recognize this place.

Not once had he seen the old church in all his years living in and visiting Central. He was positive there had been an old shoe factory where the church stood. It shouldn't be possible. The church itself looked older than the factory ever had. 

Roy turned around and ran, letting his feet carry him through a road he knew by heart. Every building he passed, every corner turned, added a little weight to the pit in his stomach. There was something wrong with the city. 

There had definitely been a fight in Central recently, but it looked all wrong. The damage. The area. Central looked nothing like it had that morning. The buildings in the old district wore obvious signs of a battle. That shouldn't be. Their fight with Father hadn't reached that far into the city. It was the area around the Headquarters that had suffered his attacks. Even their skirmish against the Central troops had been contained and hadn't caused that kind of damage. 

Roy ran faster, until his lungs burned and his hair became damp with sweat. He was almost reaching Central HQ when he hit the corner of a wall on his blind side after a sharp turn. He stumbled and hit the ground. Hard. He cursed out loud and grabbed his abused left shoulder.

"Are you alright, um, Corporal?" Roy blinked up at the young policeman offering him a hand. "It was raining earlier this morning and the road is still wet. You should avoid running like th–"

"What did you just call me?"

"Uh, oh, just your rank, sir. I'm sorry. I don't know your name." 

Roy stared at him, dumbfounded to know there was any policeman in Central who didn't recognize him after the Promised day. He was about to correct the young man's wrong assumption when he noticed the stripes on his uniform. He wasn't wearing his usual Colonel marks. His shoulder pads had a single star and stripe. The mark of a Corporal.

"Are you okay, sir? You look a bit pale."

No, this couldn't be. 

Nothing made sense. 

Everything was wrong.

"Sir?"

He needed to find her. 

He needed to see Riza. 

She would help him understand what was going on.

He stood up and ran.

"Sir! Wait, sir!"

Much like the rest of the city, Central HQ looked wrong. There was damage to the building but nothing of the magnitude of what Father had done. There weren't whole sections of the building missing, or trucks full of debris on the road. At least the inside of the building looked the same. 

"Corporal Mustang!" The receptionist greeted, sounding surprised to see him. Roy froze. She'd called him corporal. It wasn't just the uniform. He had really been demoted. 

How? 

When?

Why? 

"Sir. Sir?" Roy's gaze snapped back to her. She looked concerned. "Is there anything I can do for you?"

"I– My Lieutenant. Lieutenant Hawkeye. Is she–" the rest of the sentence got stuck in his throat. 

What if something had happened to her too? What if she was different? What if she was dead? What would he do then?

"Sir?"

He swallowed. "Is the Lieutenant in today?"

The receptionist relaxed, and smiled with a bit of a mischievous glint in her eyes. "Lieutenant Hawkeye should be in your former office. She's been waiti–"

"Roy Mustang!" Roy barely had any time to register who had spoken before he was engulfed in a tight bone crushing hug. "It's so good to see you, sir!"

"Major," Roy said, half in relief, half in annoyance. "You're squeezing me."

"My apologies." Roy breathed out in relief when his feet touched the ground. Armstrong put a hand on his shoulder and looked at him with unshed tears. "Everyone will be so glad to know you're back."

Roy frowned at him. Perhaps it was the lack of urgency, or perhaps it was the lack of concern for his missing eye, but the Major's attitude didn't sit right with Roy. He pushed the feeling aside. There was something he needed to know first.

"The Lieutenant and the others, are they alright? Did anyone else get caught in the transmutation?"

It was Armstrong's turn to frown. "Everyone is doing fine, but… I don't think I know what you're referring to, sir. What transmutation?"

"Wha–" What the hell was wrong with everyone. "The one in the tunnels, right before I disappeared. You know, the one I just lost my eye to!"

The Major gave him a look between surprise and concern. He looked genuinely frightened after a moment. "Sir, I think we should go to the infirmary."

Roy stepped away when Armstrong tried to grab him. "No. I want an explanation. That's an order, Major."

"It's Lieutenant Colonel, remember? And right now I outrank you, sir."

"I–" He didn't understand. Had Grumman promoted Armstrong while he was gone? How long had he been gone, anyway? And why did Armstrong think he would know about his promotion? He didn't remember that, just like he didn't remember his own demotion, or the notebook with his handwriting and notes. None of it made any sense. 

But why would Armstrong lie to him? 

The only explanation he could think of was that he really didn't remember any of it. 

But that would mean… had Truth taken his memory from him? 

"Ma– Lieutenant Colonel Armstrong, what year is it?"

Alex's expression was somber as he answered, "1917."

Two years. 

He had lost two fucking years. 

"Sir, you're not looking well." Armstrong looked around them and then back at Roy. "I'll go get Lieutenant Hawkeye."

Roy's head was filled with noise. He heard Armstrong but couldn't quite process what he was saying. All he could think about was how his stupid blunt had cost him two years, his rank, and an eye. 

He didn't know how he got to the floor, and he didn't register there was someone with him until he felt a light touch on his cheek.

"Sir." 
He looked up to find Riza staring at him, concern written all over her face. A knot formed in his throat and his eyes stung with unshed tears. She was alive, whole, and safe. She looked just as radiant and beautiful as she had that morning. 

His face burned with relief and embarrassment so strong he felt dizzy.

"Lieutenant I–" 

What was he supposed to say? Sorry for ruining everything? For being an idiot? For making her worry again? He just wanted to hug her, but he knew better than to try. 

"It's okay, sir. Why don't you tell me the last thing you remember?"

"The tunnels. We were helping with the cleaning and I– I activated a transmutation circle while helping the third squad. Did… did anyone else get caught?"

Riza was frowning. "I don't know what you're talking about sir. What tunnels would that be?"

Roy gritted his teeth. "The ones below HQ, where the Homunculi lived. Is this some kind of test, Lieutenant? Because I don't appreciate it."

The frown on Riza's face deepened, and something dark settled in her eyes. She opened her mouth to reply but Armstrong spoke first. "You mentioned a transmutation circle. What kind of circle was it?

"I–" Roy tried to remember, but there had been too much rubble in the way. "I don't know, but I saw the Gate."

Riza and Armstrong shared a look.

"Where were you when you woke up?" Armstrong asked.

"I– I don't know. An old church in the middle of Central's old district."

"Shit–" Roy was surprised to hear Riza curse. And even more surprised when she took a step back, reached for her gun, and pointed it at him.

"What do yo–"

"Don't move."

Roy gulped. A cold shiver ran down his spine. He knew the look in her face. She was absolutely serious about shooting him, even if her hands were trembling. He had the worst sense of Déjà Vu about it.

"Lieutenant," Armstrong's deep voice cut through the tension. "It might be better if we move this somewhere else."

There was a crowd gathering around them. 

Riza nodded, and pulled back her gun. What little relief Roy felt was gone the moment Armstrong grabbed his arm in a tight grip and whispered, "Don't try anything."

Armstrong waved at the crowd with his usual smile. "There's nothing to see, here. Just a small argument."

Roy let himself be dragged by Armstrong. He looked back at Riza who was still holding her gun, and decidedly not looking at him. There was barely concealed anger in her face, along with fear. Unlike a month ago against Envy, Roy had no idea what he'd done to hurt her this much. He felt adrift in a sea of uncertainty, and the only person that could anchor him didn't even want to look at him.

Chapter Text

Amestris 1915

They pulled him up to his feet, and it took Roy all his might to suppress his reaction to the pain in his side. Just as he had promised, he followed them, surrounded by the whole squad, his hands up and widely set apart of his own free will. 

He could see the soldier on his left, and couldn't help but throw him side glances. He was on his left, and he could see him. 

When they finally surfaced from a series of tunnels, Roy's breath left him. 

There was nothing but wrecked buildings and desolation all around.

However, the place was instantly recognisable, even in this state. 

The Army Headquarters had been ripped open. Roy felt nauseous. It looked as if the underground city had surfaced. Everywhere he looked, there was only dust. Debris. Rubble. There had been destruction on his side, but they at least managed to protect strategic places. Here it looked like… it came from the inside of HQ? 

Roy frowned, taken aback. 

But there, among the wrecked buildings, life bustled. Roofs and torn open walls were covered with tarps. Soldiers ran here and there, cleaning debris, yelling at each other, carrying heavy loads of materials and building tools. 

Once the shock passed, and he'd taken it all in, Roy marveled at the speed at which he'd settled back into his depth perception. 

He better enjoy it while he could. 

They went around to an area that seemed in better shape, entered what he indeed recognised as building E. There the soldiers threw him in the first cell they found. 

"Don't bother about the hands. I swear I won't clap. Promise." 

The soldiers — there was only Boyd and another one with him in the cell — exchanged a glance. 

"If we don't tie you up, sir, Lieutenant Hawkeye will shoot us. We don't know what's happening, but–" 

"Right. But I told you I'd be nice,” Roy pleaded, “No clapping." 

"We're sorry, Colonel. We just can't risk it." 

Roy sighed, but he also had to suppress a smile. 

They were more afraid of Riza than they were afraid of him. 

The soldiers resolved to handcuff each of his hands separately to the door's bars. Roy managed to have them do so in a way that would allow him to sit down. With that much pain in his side, he would pass out if he had to stay up and still for more than a few minutes. What the fuck had happened to his body? 

The squad left the jail, leaving Boyd behind to guard the door. After throwing Roy a couple of curious glances, he turned around and just stood there. From where he was, Roy could only see a part of his shoulder through the bars.

Roy sat down, gingerly, supporting part of his weight on his hands curled around the bars to relieve his side, and immediately regretted it, but pulled through. Once seated, he could do nothing but wait — first, for his breath to calm down. And reflect. And look at his hands. 

Maybe, better not to look at them. What the fuck. 

Somehow, it reminded him of a couple of scars on his — his own, the real one, this was definitely not his — body. Didn't the one on his shoulder look a little like that? 

He shook his head, and decided to look around to distract himself instead. 

The jailroom had the same tiles, the same wall colour, the same doors as the whole of the Army headquarters, and apparently that was the same in every world — because he had crossed to another world, he was sure of it, now. 

Everything was painted in a selection of white, sad beige, hospital green or dull grey. There was nothing to look at, and nothing to listen to, except for the sounds of rebuilding work outside, that rattled the windows from time to time. 

So. 

Better think, then, Mustang. 

The transmutation circle had thrown him in a world that was close to what he knew, unlike what it did to Fullmetal. Alchemy. Amestris. The Army. People — Boyd, the other men he couldn't remember the names of. Riza… was there… All of this seemed to be the same. 

Yet, things were slightly askew. 

Something had destroyed part of HQ. He was still Colonel (he'd checked the stripes on his shoulders). He seemed to be able to do alchemy by clapping? So he was… more powerful? He'd sustained severe injuries not long ago (more recently than he had himself, those scars on his hands were barely healed) — but, worse, Riza had, too. 

Riza. 

They shared a history that was close, but not the same. And she was… different. There was something in her, in her eyes, in the way she'd reacted… something he couldn't pinpoint, but that made his chest ache. 

Or maybe it was because he missed her. He had. So much. And yet, he had not —

Roy shook his head. He had to focus. 

He’d not been thrown. He'd been swapped. 

His counterpart, the other Roy, the one who had two eyes but mangled hands and something going on in his side, would be wandering in the underground ruins, now, alone and lost, with only one eye. 

And he hadn't told Riza, or anyone, for that matter, where he was going. 

Maybe he himself was not in such a dire situation, all things compared. 

Roy measured time by the slow, oh so slow shift of the square of light on the corridor tiles in front of him. 

He had to find a way to make them believe he was himself — the right one, the one from this world. The Army, at least. He had no idea who he could trust or not, so the best course would be to trust no one. 

No one… 

His head jerked up and he hit his forehead against the cell bars with a groan. There was someone walking in the corridor outside, and if he was not mistaken —

"Lieutenant." 

Clicking heels. Roy pulled on his neck as much as he could, but he only could see Boyd's shoulder straighten. 

"Sergeant Boyd. I need to have a word with the Colonel. Why don't you take a break?" 

"Lieutenant, I–" 

"I'm here on orders from the Fuhrer, Boyd. Highly sensitive matters. You're not cleared to hear our conversation, I'm sorry." 

New salute. 

"Yes, ma'am." 

She must have not answered verbally, because heavier steps went away from the door. 

Riza walked in, and Roy breathed a little better. Even if she was pale, and her face gaunt. The crease between her eyebrows had deepened in the couple of hours they'd been apart. But her eyes were clear, and her pace determined. 

She closed the door, and took a dingy chair from against the wall, to place it in front of him. She sat on it, crossing her legs, then her hands on them. 

And she looked at him. 

Roy's first reflex was to stand up, but he quickly decided against this. So he sat there, his hands level with his head, and gave her back her look. 

"What happened? Who the fuck are you?" 

She looked almost as surprised as he was that she'd said this out loud. She looked away for a second, and something faint passed on her face, quickly, almost invisible, but he saw it. 

She was afraid; she was hurt; but most of all, she was furious that she let a stranger know her feelings weren't all that measured. 

A stranger. 

"Riza, I–" 

This time, she didn't hide her fury. Her hands grabbed her knees, as if she was going to stand up and have a go at him. She spoke through gritted teeth. 

"Don't." 

Roy winced, and opened his hands, as much as he could, in a soothing gesture. 

"Sorry. I won't. I won't call you like that anymore. Lieutenant." He sighed. "I have not lied to you. I'm Roy. Roy Mustang. Except… not the one you know. Not– not exactly." 

She planted her eyes in his. 

Roy shuddered. He'd missed these warm brown eyes. Even if her glance wasn't that warm, even if he was looking at her through prison bars – where she'd put him. He was convinced that, should he manage to come back, his Riza would do the same to him. 

With good reasons. 

"How did you know? About the tea." 

Her voice was so small, suddenly. Her hands crossed again on her lap. 

"Told you. I'm Roy. I did my apprenticeship with your father. He taught me flame Alchemy. I lived under your roof for two years before joining the army." 

Her gaze became fierce, her cheeks pink. 

"But you don't know about –" 

"I don't know what's on your back, no. I don't know what you're talking about." 

Not for lack of admiring it, he thought, but kept it to himself. 

The silence grew. 

"Could you… hum. If I swear I'm not going to do whatever I'm supposed to do with my hands, could you untie me? I'm," he hated to say it. "I'm in. Hum. A lot of pain." Here, he said it. He looked away. "I don't know how I got these injuries, either, and it's not very nice." 

To his surprise, Riza seemed to come back to her senses.

"Ah. Yes. Wait." 

She got up and disappeared to his left. There was a sound of straining pipes, then she came back with a glass of water. She fished in her pocket to retrieve a small, dark glass bottle. She dropped two pills onto her palm, then hid the bottle again. 

She looked at him, at his handcuffs, and seemed to ponder. 

Then she sighed, and turned away again, coming back after a while with a set of keys in her right hand, still carrying the glass and pills in her left. 

She untied him. 

"Thank you," he breathed, massaging his wrists as well as he could with his hands — they felt even more numb after being held up for a long time. She gave him the medication and retreated to the chair. 

He took the pills to his mouth, and drank the whole glass. 

"I do hope you didn't poison me," he smirked. 

"Unless you were planning to poison yourself, no. These are yours. I took them from your desk." 

"I bet you also have a spare bottle in yours. Just in case." 

The look of outrage she gave him told him he had struck right, and he fought to suppress a smug smile. 

He knew this look. 

"Lieutenant. I don't know what you think I am, but I want you to understand. I really am Roy Mustang, just, another one. There are… other worlds. Each with their own version of ourselves." He sat cross-legged on the ground, and gingerly massaged his hands. 

From the corner of his eye, he saw Riza stop herself from leaning towards him. What was she going to do? 

He went on, acting as if he had not seen her. 

"Whenever you try a human transmutation–" 

"No." Colours drained from her face, and she got up at once. "No. Don't tell me it's that–" 

Roy was puzzled. This was a very strong reaction, from Riza, above all. 

"Well, did he? Did– did Roy here try a human transmutation?" 

Riza was pacing in front of him. 

"Of course not! He wouldn't, not after–" 

"After what?" 

She didn't answer. She was looking at her feet, walking back and forth in the small space. 

She threw him a side glance, very quick, and the anguish he saw in her eyes made him hold his breath.  

He tried another approach. He'd prod her on that later.  

"Well. I didn't either, Lieutenant," Roy said, making his voice lower. "In fact, I… kind of… forwent alchemy." 

Riza almost missed a step at that, but she didn't stop. Her pacing was too fast. She made him dizzy. 

"Lieutenant?" 

Roy pulled himself up, noting the painkillers were starting to take effect. Then he slid his arm as far as he could through the bars, and caught her hand. 

She jumped away, and gave him that furious, pained look again. 

"Lieutenant." Once again, he held his palm up. "If you say he didn't, I believe you. He didn't. I didn't. It must be the circle, and the fact that we were both in the right place at the right time. I have no idea. We should get–" 

But this Riza too seemed to be able to read his mind. 

"I've sent for alchemists already. We've agreed we would need them for your interrogation." 

"May I ask who you sent for?" 

She narrowed her eyes. She'd come back to sit on the chair, and crossed her legs again. Now her arms, too, were crossed, and she was looking at him from there. Guarded.

Roy shifted from one foot to the other. At least it relieved his back. 

Riza let out a small sigh. 

"Major Alex Armstrong. And Edward Elric. Alphonse is… unavailable at the moment, even if I'm sure he would love to try and help." 

Roy couldn't hide the rush of adrenaline these last names sent through him. He turned around in the cell, throwing his arms up.

"Yes! Yes, perfect!" 

Riza's eyes opened wide, and he laughed. 

These Elric brothers were in good shape enough to be sent for. He couldn't have dreamed better. 

"The Elrics. Perfect." 

"What happened?" Riza was frowning, a dark anticipation in her voice. "To the Elrics from your world?" 

Oh, she knew him, alright. 

Roy glanced at her. Then he looked away. 

"They're stuck. In another world. Much like… your Roy is. And I am." 

"He's not my–" Riza had an angry huff. She rolled her eyes and went on: "Surely, if it's like you and the Colonel, the ones who crossed could–" 

"No. Their counterparts… if I understand well, they were dead. And there's no alchemy in this other world." 

"How do you know all that?" 

Roy sighed. How indeed. 

"Something happened. I'm not entirely sure what it was. Central was… invaded. Someone from that other world wanted to… destroy us? Anyway. Edward took the chance to cross back. But he had to stay behind to close the gate once again, and Alphonse… I tried to stop him. I did. I tried. But… who am I to stop him from reuniting with his brother? I let him go. I swore to him I'd close the gate, and I did. I was studying what was left of it when I was pulled through." 

Roy's gaze was fixed on the ground. His eyes fluttered, and came back to Riza. 

He had an embarrassed smile, more embarrassed when he noticed her sad frown. 

"Sorry. Uh. Got carried away." 

Riza opened her mouth, a furious expression on her face – oh he knew, she was going to scold him for letting them go, alone, two kids in an unknown world – but knocks rattled on the door. She got up at once and opened on Boyd.

"Yes?" 

"Lieutenant. Fullmetal and Major Armstrong are soon to arrive at Fuhrer Grumman's office." 

"Thank you, Boyd. I'll be taking the Colonel there right away." 

"Do you need an escort?" 

"No." She turned around and glanced at Roy. "I'm sure the Colonel will behave." 

Roy breathed. That was something. 

Riza turned and opened the door, while Boyd's steps left again. Then she got very close to Roy, still holding the door, and he felt a little awkward, until: "If you know me as well as you think you do, you know I have a number of concealed weapons. Do not try anything stupid." She stepped back for him to exit the cell, and gave him a dark look. "Sir." 

"Understood, Lieutenant."

He followed her outside of the small jail — that was mostly used to keep inebriated soldiers, in his world. He now remembered that he once had to fetch a very shameful Havoc from there. 

They walked once again amongst the ruins of a number of buildings, making detours around working soldiers, who almost all paused to salute them. 

It'd been a while. 

Riza strided among the rubble, Roy almost jogging behind. He misjudged the position of debris once or twice and almost fell on the second time. So much for readjusting that easily into his vision. 

Riza only turned towards him when he asked her: "Fuhrer Grumman, uh?" 

"I take it he's not Fuhrer on your side?" 

"No." They arrived in front of the stone stairs that led to the front entrance of the headquarters, its majesty quite diminished by the half collapsed building and torn banners. "But he's taken the presidency of the parliament at the beginning. When Bradley… fell." 

Riza stopped. 

"You had a Bradley." 

"Yes." 

"You have a parliament." 

"Also yes." 

She looked a little troubled, then turned around and started walking up the steps.

"Good for you." 

Feeling he should specify, Roy sped up to get to Riza’s level, looking intently at the steps this time. 

“It took time. Looks like whatever happened is fairly recent here.”

“It is,” she admitted, but didn’t expand. “How long?” 

“Two years. And it's not like the public really is that fond of it yet.”  

“Did you,” this time she turned towards him. “Did you have a hand in it?”

She stopped at the top of the stairs and he joined her. Roy winced, and passed a hand through his hair. 

“I… Not exactly. Not directly.” 

She looked a little disappointed by his answer.

“The Colonel, here, is intent on bringing the parliament back.” 

“I was, too. This is no accident that Grumman was the head of it for a while. We’d discussed it beforehand, and he was ready when things got in motion.” 

“But?” 

“I was… out of the picture when he settled everything,” Roy brushed a hand in his hair again. What a mess it’d been. He didn’t really want to hold forth on the subject of these two years. “In a hurry. There were a lot of people against the idea, he had to act quick.” 

“Tell me about it!” Riza rolled her eyes, and then looked again a little angry that she let something so improper slip when she saw Roy’s smirk. Then her expression changed and she looked at him funny, but didn’t pry further. 

She didn't say anything else until they reached Grumman's office. 

Amestris 1917

They took him to one of those waiting rooms they used for special guests. Armstrong all but sat him on the sofa in the middle of the room while Riza remained behind, standing next to the door with her gun and gaze fixed at him.

"I'm sorry, sir," Armstrong said as he removed Roy's ignition gloves from his pocket.

"Will you at least tell me why I'm being treated like a criminal?"

"Are you one?" Riza asked with so much animosity it surprised him.

"Lieutenant," Armstrong said in a warning tone.

"Wha–" Roy frowned at her. What kind of game was she playing? "I guess that depends on who you ask, but you would know that, Lieutenant."

"Would I now?"

"Enough!" Armstrong said, effectively shutting any reply Roy might have. He was a little surprised to hear Armstrong raise his voice that way. "I know you're confused, but there isn't an easy way to explain this."

"Try me."

Armstrong looked at Riza who shrugged.

"We suspect you might not be Roy Mustang. Well… not the Roy Mustang of this world."

Roy stared at Armstrong like he'd grown another head. Not the Roy Mustang of this world? What did that even mean?

"Is this… does this have to do with the Homunculi? Is there another shapeshifter?"

"No," Riza sighed and finally looked at him properly. An olive branch if Roy knew one. "Two years ago Edward Elric disappeared after a human transmutation. A month ago he re-appeared and we learned he'd been living somewhere beyond the Gate. A place without alchemy, with flying machines, and its own version of the people living here. Those ruins where you woke up, that's where Edward first disappeared."

That sounded like a story right out of a fantasy book. Like the ones his late mother used to read to him for bedtime, full of magic, reincarnations, mischievous spirits, and vindictive gods. It was ridiculous for anyone to expect him, an Alchemist, to believe that.

Roy looked at his unscarred hands. 

And yet he didn't have a better explanation. Nor could he think of any reason for Riza to lie to him. It wasn't like anything else was making sense anyway, and he had in fact crossed the Gate.

"You think I come from this place."

Armstrong nodded. "Or rather somewhere else beyond the Gate." 

"Your consciousness, that's it." Riza added. "That's definitely this world's Roy Mustang's body."

Ah… that would explain the vanished scars, and their lack of concern about his missing eye. Their Mustang must have already been missing an eye.

"If it's alright with you, I would like to ask you some questions, sir," Armstrong said. "To try to understand how different our worlds are."

Roy looked from Armstrong's uncharacteristically serious face to Riza, who avoided his gaze. "I'll answer your questions if you answer mine. Equivalent Exchange, right?"

That got a smile from Armstrong and his posture relaxed a bit. "Yes, it's only fair."

"I go first. How did I- How did your Roy lose his eye?"

"Bullet," Riza answered.

Roy grimaced. That was… terrible. No wonder the scar had felt so gross. He didn't even want to imagine what he looked like underneath the eyepatch. He had considered transmuting a mirror, but just the feel of the scar had been enough to scare him out of it. 

"Was it… was it Ishval?"

"No," Riza answered without elaborating, and Roy recognized the guilt in her voice. She sounded just like Riza, his– their Riza, did whenever she failed to protect him. She must have been there when it happened, and she must blame herself for it. 

He wanted to ask more, but Armstrong interrupted before he could.

"You mentioned the Homunculi, does that mean your Edward fought against their master too? Are the brothers also missing in your world?"

What?

The brothers were missing?

"No. I mean, yes. We fought the Homunculi's Father, but the Elrics were fine the last time I saw them." If a little worn down, but happier than he'd ever seen them. "I thought you said Fullmetal had re-appeared."

"He did, but he crossed back to the other world. Alphonse followed him." 

Roy's heart sank. They had let those kids cross to a strange world by themselves, and from the sound of it they couldn't even retrieve them. How could they let that happen? How could this Roy let them go by themselves? He knew Fullmetal was a hard head, but surely there ought to be a better way to solve things than crossing into a strange world with a one way ticket. But then again… maybe this Fullmetal was very different from theirs, because Roy couldn't imagine Edward willingly putting the Rockbells through that pain. 

"You said Father," Riza started. "I thought the Homunculi Master was a woman by the name Dante."

Roy gave her a blank stare. "I think… we might both want to start from the beginning and go from there."

On the surface their worlds weren't that dissimilar. They shared most of the big events that had shaped Amestrian history, and they even shared some of the smaller recent events that had involved the brothers. Like Hughes' death. That one had hurt. Hughes deserved better than dying in every world he was friends with Roy.

The main difference between their worlds seemed to come down to the Homunculi and their story. Roy didn't have all the information himself. He'd gotten only the basics from the Elrics, but he knew enough to realize that what he was hearing was completely different from their own world. 

There was no Xerxes. No dwarf in the flask. Here the Elrics' father had been a perpetrator instead of a victim. The Homunculi themselves were different. Bradley had been Pride instead of Wrath, and Selim had been just an unfortunate human child. A child who had been killed by Bradley. Roy suspected he himself had been somehow involved in that since neither Hawkeye nor Armstrong were willing to go into details about the boy's death. 

But out of everything they told him, nothing shocked Roy more than how the Homunculi were born.

"Your Homunculi are the product of human transmutation?" That phrase was incomprehensible to him. He had readily accepted their explanation of a world that had no Alchemy, but he hadn't even stopped to think that Alchemy might have different laws in different worlds. "So the Elrics–"

"Yes…" Riza answered with a distant look on her face. She'd been quieter than usual since about halfway through his story. "Sloth."

"What– what happened to it?"

"We were told Edward killed her," Armstrong answered in a sad tone.

Roy felt sick.

Just how cruel could Truth get?

The price for opening the door was a harsh punishment on itself, adding to it a monster with the face of a person you loved was just too much. He could only imagine the pain it must have caused Fullmetal — who was so adamantly against taking other lives — to kill someone with the face of his mother. 

"You mentioned you don't remember the circle you activated?" Armstrong asked.

"I don't. There was too much rubble on the way. I couldn't get a proper look."

"That complicates things." Armstrong rubbed his chin for a moment. "I think we should go back to the ruins. Perhaps there we can find some clues about how this happened."

Roy touched his pocket, remembering the notebook in it and the drawings he'd seen. "The other me was taking notes on the transmutation circle there. We might be able to figure something out between the circle and his notes."

Armstrong stood up from the chair he'd taken during their long chat. "We have a plan then..." he paused. "Lieutenant?"

Riza straightened up in surprise, apparently having been lost in thoughts before. It was unusual coming from her, well… from the Hawkeye he knew. If he had to guess, something in his story had bothered her. The question was what?

"No objections, sir. We should also contact Winry. She might have saved some of Alphonse's notes."

"Splendid idea!"

"Let's get going then." Roy had just gotten up when his left leg flared up in pain as it hit the corner of the coffee table, making him fall to the floor on all four. "Be damned!"

"Colonel!" Riza was immediately moving towards him but he held a hand up, effectively stopping her on track.

"I'm fine." He got up — with just a small hiss — to prove his point. "Just not used to the lack of depth on the left side."

"Hopefully you won't be here long enough to get used to it," Hawkeye said. The comment stung, even if he agreed with it. She must have noticed something on his expression because she then added in a softer tone. "It took the Colonel months to stop bumping into things."

Roy swallowed. "Yeah, let's hope I'm not here that long."

Chapter Text

Amestris 1917

A large crowd of civilians was blocking the entrance to Central HQ. A crowd that had not been there when Roy had first arrived, and which was suspiciously armed. Most of them, Roy noticed, were carrying metal tubes and knives, and a group of soldiers was struggling to keep them from storming inside the building. 

"What is going on here?"

"Protestors," Hawkeye said, in a tone Roy had seldom heard come from his own Riza. She was pissed, furious even.

Roy frowned, wondering what kind of protest could anger Riza Hawkeye this much.

"Protestors? What are they protesting?"

"The government. I fear not everyone is in favor of the Parliament, sir," Armstrong answered. "There are many who question the legitimacy of it despite the majority vote in favor of the referendum. The opposition is particularly strong here in Central City, especially after the invasion. Many believe the new government is too weak to protect them."

Roy clenched his teeth. No wonder Hawkeye was so pissed. He felt his own deep-seated rage begin to stir. To think people could be this foolish. After everything the military had done. After all the misery they'd caused. After all blood they'd spilled for the sake of the Philosopher's Stone. There were those who still wanted to keep in place a system built to massacre and oppress.

He tried to tell himself that they didn't know better, that they were just misguided. But… He hadn't known better before Ishval either…. His own ignorance and good intentions had cost the lives of thousands of innocent Ishvalans.

Never again.

"Major, my gloves."

"Sir?"

"Now!"

Armstrong froze for a second before fumbling to get the gloves out of his pocket. He hesitated again when he was about to pass them, but Roy took them from his hands. "Wait!"

Roy ignored Armstrong's attempts to stop him and put the left glove on quickly. He snapped twice in front of himself, igniting a small path of flame to test his precision and depth perception. He took a step forward and said at the top of his lungs, "Step aside!"

All the soldiers moved immediately and without hesitation. Roy snapped his fingers and the flames danced around every single civilian in the vicinity. They let out a surprised gasp as the fire licked their hands and heated up their weapons. One by one their metal tubes and knives hit the ground with a loud clank.

A shocked silence settled over the crowd.

They all looked at Roy with wide eyes full of confusion, terror, and disbelief. Roy imagined most of them had never seen his — or perhaps any — Alchemy at work, even less so this up close. Their incomprehension was expected. It was welcomed, even. They deserved to experience, even if only a fraction of, the gruesome terror others had met at the hands of their beloved government.

After some long seconds, it was a middle aged man with light brown hair and blue eyes who cut the silence with an angry, "Mustang, you traitor!"

The man tackled one of the unsuspecting soldiers and forcefully grabbed his gun, pointing it at Roy. 

Time seemed to stop until Hawkeye's panicked "Colonel!" got through the rush of blood in his ears. 

Roy was already on the move, clapping and touching the ground before the man could unlock the gun. A mass of earth engulfed the man's hands, while another held his feet in place. Roy watched him struggle to move without success, red faced and panicked. He walked past the immobilized man and looked at the still shocked crowd.

"If you have any grievances or complaints, go present them to the Parliament through the correct means. Otherwise be ready to face me and everyone who has sworn to protect this government and the will of the people of Amestris. This might no longer be a Military State, but that doesn't mean you're free to trample over the wishes of your fellow countrymen."

Roy clapped again and touched the man's shoulder, dissolving his restraints. He took the gun from the man's shaking hands, and held his gaze for a moment, daring him to try anything. 

Roy turned back to the crowd when he didn't.

"Now leave!"

He gave the gun back to the — very embarrassed looking — soldier, and watched the scared man scramble away from them. The crowd quickly dissipated until a single person stood where the crowd had been. A young woman with long blond hair and blue eyes. 

One Winry Rockbell.

Roy smiled at her. "Miss Roc–" 

"It was you," Winry interrupted him. She was looking at him with wide eyes. No… not at him, at his hands. "How?"

Huh?

"Sir." Armstrong's deep voice made Roy look at him. The Lieutenant Colonel and Hawkeye were staring at him equally aghast. "You– you used Alchemy without a transmutation circle.”

Oh…

He'd told them just the basics of what had happened during the Promised Day. He never mentioned he'd seen the Gate.

Roy looked down at his unscarred hands and then back at Winry. She must have heard the clapping and thought… She must have thought he was Fullmetal, who had disappeared beyond the Gate into another world. Perhaps never to be seen again.

Roy closed his fists and let them fall to his side.

"Yeah. I've seen the Truth. Just like the Elrics."

Hawkeye shook her head, all the color left her face. Her haunted expression reminded Roy of the day Berthold died. "Then you–" 

The slap came out of nowhere and with so much force that Roy bit the inside of his mouth. He stood there, wide eyed and stunned, for a couple seconds before he turned his head back to look at Winry.

He touched his bruised cheek and hissed. "What the he–"

"How dare you!" Roy took a step back, shocked not so much by the venom in her voice as by the look in her eyes. 

He had to think back to remember the last time someone had looked at him like that, with such deep resentment. Not Scar whose rage had been cold and calculated. Not Envy whose rage had been a mask for his fear. Nor the thousands of souls he'd burned in the battlefield. Perhaps the last person to look at him that way had been Heathcliff Erbe, right before he'd shoot Roy and Hughes had put a bullet in his head.

That look was as soul crushing on Winry Rockbell's face as it had been on Heathcliff's.

"How dare you kill my parents and then try to bring someone else back to life! Is this how you keep your promise to Mr. Hughes, by running away and creating monsters with Alchemy?! Was he the one you tried to bring back!"

He just stared at her, lost for words. 

Had he really killed the Rockbells in this world?

The thought alone made him sick to his stomach. Not because he believed he wasn't capable of it, but because he knew he was. He must have killed many Ishvalan healers during his attacks on the civilian districts. The Rockbells, Amestrian or not, wouldn't have been any different. If Scar hadn't gotten to them first, he was sure one of the State Alchemists would have. 

Such was the reality of war.

Roy wouldn't delude himself into thinking he couldn't have been the one just because that sin now carried a personal mark.

"Answer me!" Winry raised her hand to slap him again, but Hawkeye caught her wrist before she could. 

"Winry, stop." 

"Let me go!" Winry screamed, struggling to get free from Hawkeye's hold. "He knows what it did to Izumi and the brothers! What kind of monster would do it anyway!"

"Stop!" Winry stopped, surprised by Hawkeye's sudden raised voice. "That's enough… He– he's not the Colonel. He's from beyond the door."

"What?" Winry stared at him with wide tearful eyes. Roy looked away, unable to hold her gaze. "But, he looks–"

"Just like our Mustang," Armstrong said. "But I can assure you, he's not. We were actually going to call you to see if you could bring us Alphonse's notes. We're hoping there's a way to reverse this."

The tension finally left Winry's body, and she slumped down to the floor like a marionette whose strings had been cut. Hawkeye let her wrist go. 

"I–" Winry swallowed and looked up at him. "I'm sorry."

"Don't worry. My Lieutenant would tell you it's nothing I didn't deserve," he said, waving his hand dismissively in an attempt to lighten the mood. 

The forced smile on his face died the moment Hawkeye glared at him. 

His dark humor wasn't appreciated. 

Point taken.

Hawkeye offered Winry her hand. "We were on our way to the old ruins. Why don't you come with us, so we can tell you the rest of the story?"

Winry looked at Hawkeye, then at Roy, and then at the offered hand. "Alright."

Amestris 1915

They were introduced to an anteroom first, where they'd have to wait. 

Was Grumman really into this type of protocol, there? Even with them? Or was it because he was Fuhrer? 

Roy had a look around the small, heavily decorated chamber, until he froze. On the wall on the right was something he had first taken as a window. 

It was a mirror. Confirming Riza wasn't looking at him with a side glance, he walked to the wall, and faced his reflection. 

His face. It was whole. 

His hand shot to his left cheek, fingertips once again feeling the soft skin there, the absence of pain. Frequently throwing a sheepish look at Riza, who kept her back turned, standing at attention in front of the door, he followed the contour of his cheekbone, his eyebrow, looking intently into his eye as he did so. It was his face indeed, the exact same. It felt surreal, to get his face back, suddenly. It felt… too much. He had to look away, he shouldn’t—

"What now, Colonel? Is your vanity so ginormous that you can't stand near a mirror without admiring yourself?" 

Roy jumped, and turned towards Edward. Edward Elric. 

Whatever automatic retort he'd have for him stayed stuck in his throat. It hadn't felt as tight in a long time. Seeing Fullmetal in front of him didn’t help, but it was really the worst moment to be taken by surprise. 

Riza sent him a suspicious glare, and Roy looked away. 

Unfazed, unaware, Ed went on, walking straight to the Furher’s office door, where he knocked.
“We know, you’re handsome. You’re already too aware of that. Can we get to the point, ‘cause Al’s waiting for me. He’s getting bored and restless these days. I'd rather keep an eye on him. I'm afraid he’ll escape to go roll in the grass or something, and he’s not fit for that yet. Let’s get it over with whatever stupid thing you’ve done.” 

Edward was followed by Alex Armstrong, his stepping in the anteroom making it feel immediately minuscule. He greeted Riza first, then Roy, just as politely and warmly as he always did. 

“That’s all I can tell you.” 

Roy laid his hands on the table, on each side of the cup of tea Grumman — Fürher Grumman — had provided him, just like the old man had also done for Ed and Alex, who sat at the other side of the table, and Riza, who was standing to the side. 

Grumman himself sipped from his own cup, and had been listening while fluttering around his office. Grumman was always like that. The only times the old man stood still were when he was playing chess, or scheming politics. 
Roy was somewhat happy to see he was a lot closer to the one he knew than Riza was. 

“I like that parliament thing. We– I mean me and your counterpart– have indeed been talking about this.” 

Riza threw a side glance at Grumman, this time, frowning. As if he was already saying too much. 

Roy himself had been careful to omit from his explanation what he felt would be too sensitive. Just like Riza had yet to explain to him exactly what had happened with Bradley, and what had befallen the Headquarters. He'd kept his own version of Bradley's fall for himself, as well as a number of things. 

The result felt like a half truth, like a puzzle with missing pieces. But none of these were important for what they were there for. Which was to bring him and his counterpart back to their respective worlds with minimal damage. 

Judging by Riza’s words, one was more important than the other. She wanted her Colonel back, there was no mistaking her. 

Roy had mixed feelings about this. But she was right. He wanted his own Riza back, too. And when he’d meet her again, he would apologize for a thousand years. And kiss her, if she was so inclined. Hell knew just looking at this Riza and the way she looked at him were a torture. 

He was taken back from his reverie by Fullmetal. 
“Can't believe you let the other me and Al cross again." 

Ed was leaning back on his chair, lacking all manners and propriety you should show when you were taking tea with the head of state, his right arm — his right flesh and blood arm — held in a sling against his chest. Roy had been quick to remark on it, and that was when Ed knew he wasn’t the right one. 

Because apparently, admiring himself in mirrors was something he did often, in Edward’s mind.

"Indeed, what possessed you, Colonel? You let these kids–" 

"No, Major," Edward cut Armstrong before Roy could defend himself. "Not only are they older than we are, if I understand well, but, it's their right." He looked Roy in the eye while doing so, his expression a mix between a number of emotions Roy was surprised to see directed at him. "I believe him when he says they asked that of him. And don't tell me you think he looks alright with that. But, you know what? I'm glad they had the choice. People choosing for us– we've always hated that." This time, the look in Fullmetal's eyes tore through Roy's chest. "Maybe it was a mistake again, you know. But you did what they asked of you. Good for you if you keep looking for them. But it was their choice and you respected it. End of story." 

Edward looked away. Roy looked at his hands. The silence that followed dragged on a little longer than it should. 

After a while, Fullmetal sniffed, and cleared his throat. "Okay. So. What you want, here, is to reactivate the gate, so you and our Mustang can cross again? What do you need us for? Sounds pretty easy to me.” 

Roy tried to find his balance, and replied with a sigh. “I don’t want to have to pay a price.” 

“Yeah, you basically want to cheat Truth, do you? Again?” 

“Edward.” Riza’s voice cut through the room, ice cold. So cold, Armstrong, who had kept oddly silent, turned around with a surprised, then pained look. 

Ed rolled his eyes, but seemed to have understood Riza’s warning. 

Roy had not. And he was intrigued. But Ed continued before he could ask more.

“So, what I mean is, have you lost anything?” 

“I’m– I don’t know.” Technically, Roy had gained something back. But he knew it wasn’t the case, now. “I mean, this is not my body. I’m fairly sure what happened here is not a human transmutation as you know it. More like… a… soul exchange. Or something. Apart from these new scars, I pretty much, uh, feel the same.”

Liar. 
You’re a liar, Roy Mustang. 

“We need to go down and study that transmutation circle, then,” Alex offered. 

“This is what I was doing when this happened. If only I had my notebook… we’d have my side, to compare.” 

“You could maybe remember it?” Grumman chimed, then walked around the table to reach for his desk. "I've played chess with you enough to know you never forget a strategy, even if you've seen it only once. In fact, it's pretty infuriating." 

“Here,” Grumman tapped his left shoulder. Instinctively, Roy turned fully around on his chair to face him, before reaching for the pen and the paper Grumman was holding. Realizing this must have looked a little odd, he turned back to the table, his cheeks a little too hot. He glanced at Riza when he did so, and sure enough, she had that same suspicious look on her face. 

“I’ll try, but I’m not sure I’ll manage.” 

Roy closed his eyes, trying to visualize the circle in his mind, and what he’d put in his notebook, and saw he could actually maybe draw parts of it pretty clearly. He held the pen, feeling pain deep in the center of his hand. He managed to brush a circle by drawing from the shoulder. This was how alchemists were told, anyway, to make the most perfect circle they could. 

However, tracing what he remembered of the symbols around said circle proved to be a challenge. He pulled through, knuckles white, feeling sweat bead on his forehead, for what felt like hours, just to draw half of the circle, hand shaking, feeling all these silent eyes on him. Until he couldn’t anymore. He couldn’t will his fingers to close enough around the pen, which finally fell from his grip. 

“Damn these hands!” he let out with a snarl. 

“Take your time, Colonel.” 

Roy looked up. Riza, Alex, and Fullmetal had said the same thing at the same time. This was absolutely surreal. 

Roy himself felt his cheeks go red again for making a spectacle of himself, but Riza’s were also bright pink. 

Ed rolled his eyes. 

“I meant it. For once.” He wiggled his right fingers.

“I know what you’re going through, you know?” 

“Uh. Thanks, Fullmetal. I guess.” 

“No problem. You’ll deal with Winry’s fury if I lose Al in Central. She’ll probably offer to cut off your hands herself just to sell you an automail. She already told me that.” 

Roy’s hand, which had retrieved the pen, shook more violently at the mention of Winry. 

The Rockbell girl. 

Edward misinterpreted. 

“It’s a joke, colonel. Have you lost all your sense of humor, over there?” 

“Yeah, no, I– let me focus.” 

Roy finally finished drawing. He put the pen down with a sigh — his hand was going to be painful for a long time after, he was sure of that, and he started massaging his palm immediately. He pushed the sheet towards Ed and Alex, a little self conscious of how wobbly his lines were. But all things considered, they weren’t that bad. At last it was readable. 

Ed pulled the paper yet closer, an avid curiosity in his golden eyes. Alex looked over his shoulder, stroking his chin. 

“I see… yeah. Yeah this, here,” Ed turned the sheet around and pointed to a couple of symbols, “And here, they’re different. I’ve never seen them before. Granted you didn’t just fuck up the original.” 

It was Roy’s turn to roll his eyes. 

“I didn’t. There might be missing pieces– I’m sure there are, but I am sure of what I have drawn.” 

Ed pulled the sheet towards him once again, looking at it intently. Then he turned to Riza. 
“Lieutenant? This Mustang here says he didn’t do anything to activate the circle. What did our idiot do?” 

Riza didn’t even react to Edward’s dig. She frowned, and looked at the ground, her cheeks becoming slightly pink again. 

She looked… angry. 

If this were his Riza, she would have been angry she was there and didn’t stop whatever happened from happening. 

It definitely looked like this Riza was on the same page. 

“We were looking for…” She shook her head. “We got called to sector three, to help clean rubble. The Colonel told the soldiers to ask for you, Major Armstrong, but you were–”

“Pulling men from under a collapsed tunnel in sector eight,” Armstrong offered with his bass voice. 

“Indeed. So we went to sector three. Big room, circular room.” Riza had an almost imperceptible pause, and her eyes stopped on Roy. It was a blink and you’ll miss it moment. And the others had probably missed it. But not him. Something happened there, in this room. And her Colonel was with her when it did. 

Roy gave Riza back her look, closing his eyes briefly in a soothing gesture, as he would have done, if this was his Riza there. 

It had only been a fraction of a second. When he opened his eyes again, Riza was back on track as if nothing happened. 

“He set out to clear the rubble. The Colonel clapped, and put his hands on the ground, and that’s when–” 

“Oh, moron.” Edward’s groan took everyone by surprise. 

“Edward Elric,” Alex clearly reproved the comment. “Apologize to the Lieutenant.” 

“Shouldn’t he apologize to me, instead?” 

“I still don’t know if you’re as dumb as him or not,” Edward growled, then turned to Riza. “I’m sorry, Lieutenant, that was inappropriate. Please continue.” 

“There’s… there’s nothing much more to say. There was a small… earthquake. The circle glowed, that's when we– I saw it. Then it glowed enough to blind me for a second, and when I could see again, the Colonel — this one — was on all fours. He recognized me instantly but looked a little… Off. And that’s it, really.” 

“I still maintain our Mustang is a–” Ed seemed to realize what he was going to say again, and raised his shoulders with a scowl. “Hum… didn’t play smartly there. He knows what happens when he claps.” 

“Yeah, by the way. He knows, but I don’t. Tell me.” 

Ed looked at Roy, frowning, then shrugged. 
“Our Mustang has seen the Truth. His body serves as a transmutation circle. Like mine did.” 

“Like yours did?” 

“I traded my alchemy to get Al back. Don’t look at me like that, it worked, and I’m goddamned happy it did.” 

“Wait, your Mustang has seen the Truth? Like you? What did he–” 

“Irrelevant,” Riza cut them. “You can clap, and do whatever you want with your alchemy, now.” 

“Wanna try?” There was an unmistakable glint in Fullmetal’s eye. He was daring him. And Roy wasn’t the kind to let himself be dared by a fifteen year old. Nope. They had things to do. More important things…

"Of course I do!” 

“Fuhrer Grumman,” Edward asked. “Would you mind losing a cup?” 

“Well it seems our Colonel here is intent on repairing it.” 

“Great. Thank you, Fuhrer Grumman,” Edward bowed his head with a big smile, and pushed his chair away from the table. Then he asked for a piece of paper — one that didn’t have a badly scribbled transmutation circle on it, just in case, and put it on the ground. He drank the last drops of his tea, and put the tea cup on the sheet of paper, then crushed it under his left foot. 

At the sound of it, Edward might have gotten his arm back, but not his leg. 

The teacup was reduced to tiny bits on the paper sheet. 

Edward took the paper with all the pieces scattered on it, fumbling a little with only one hand, and pulled it back up on the table. 

“Here you go. Show us.” 

“Uh. Alright.” 

A little uncomfortable, Roy clapped his hands, closing his eyes to visualize the transmutation circle he'd trace on the paper if he had done it the usual way. 

Before he even placed his hands around the porcelain pieces, he knew. 

It wasn't going to work. 

Indeed, once he did so… nothing happened. 

"Shit." Edward was disappointed. "Try again?" 

"Fullmetal, are you sad that I'm even less good than you think I am?" 

"No, moron, I'm–" 

"Stop, you two." Riza was looking at his hands intently, a little color coming back on her face. "It means…" 

"...it means our Mustang can still clap!" Armstrong finished her sentence, throwing his arms up. 

Edward dodged him swiftly. "Yes." 

For some reason, Riza looking hopeful made Roy feel like his failure wasn't exactly one. 

He wouldn't have known how to use this new alchemy, anyway. Or rather wouldn't have felt good using it. He was too wary of what could happen — he couldn't help but think that he wouldn't indeed have been as dumb as his counterpart. 

Oh no, he was thinking like Fullmetal, now. 

"So. No hope for my cup, then?" Grumman chimed in. 

Roy winced. 

"I can still draw a transmutation circle–" 

"No need!" Armstrong boomed, and pulled on the paper. "Allow me." 

Roy didn't object. Alex looked like he wanted to be useful, and he let him. 

The result was… certainly interesting. At least that's how Grumman put it, ever the diplomat. Roy would rather have said something else. But the Fuhrer took the cup with a smile, and hurried to place the porcelain effigy of Alex Armstrong in a cabinet. 

Just as he was doing so, a fancy clock on his gigantic mahogany desk rang. 

"Oh! Time for my evening snack. Are you all staying?"

But Edward had already sprang up from his seat. 

"This is very nice of you, Fuhrer Grumman," Fullmetal had a little bow and Roy couldn't help but throw a mocking glance at him when he brought his head back up. The little shit replied with a death stare, but went on. "But I should get going. Just in case Al ran away while I was out. Colonel," he turned towards Roy. "Or whatever, really, if anything should happen to Al, I'm going to tell Winry this is all your fault, and I'll let you deal with the consequences." 

Roy's smile at Edward's silliness disappeared. But he didn't know what to say, and just glared at him. 

The silence drew on, and Edward frowned, then shook his head and turned away. 

Behind him, Riza, too, was staring at Roy. 
She stepped towards Edward. 
"Why don't we all make a small detour, to have a look at the transmutation circle before we call it a night? It'll allow us to mull over it tonight." 

Edward looked up at Riza with a smile that was pretty disturbing to Roy. It was way too genuine in its compassion. 
"You really want your idiot Colonel back, don't you?" 

"I have failed my duty," Riza looked down. 

At least that was a very Riza thing to say. 

"I want to fix my mistake." 

"Yeah, sure, Lieutenant. Let's go." 

Chapter Text

Amestris 1917

The ruins were no less eerie the second time Roy walked through them. No. If anything he felt a deeper sense of loss now that he knew the story behind it. A cautious tale of the length humans would go for power. Not that he was unfamiliar with that ugly side of humanity. He himself was guilty of seeking power. But… there had been something comforting in fighting monsters, in knowing that even though they'd executed it, the monsters had been the ones to start the wars and misery.

There were no real monsters on this side of the Gate, just foolish humans willing to sacrifice one another for personal gain.

And they'd both arrived at the same place.

Who were the real monsters then?

"Are you okay, sir? You seem lost in thought." 

Roy turned his head to look at Armstrong, who was standing on his blind spot. Hawkeye and Winry were following a couple steps behind. 

"Nothing serious, Armstrong. Just wondering if this place exists on my side."

"I would hope not. I wish one of us to be spared from this tragedy."

Roy pressed his lips together. "I wouldn't hold my breath on that, Lieutenant Colonel."

Armstrong gave him a small sympathetic smile before looking forward. 

Roy concentrated on Hakweye's soothing voice as she explained to Winry what he'd told them before. He let the words pass over him and enjoyed the timber of her voice, letting it ground him in this strange new world. If anything he was glad to know Riza Hawkeye existed in more than one place. That was all the proof he needed to know the universe wasn't such a cruel place.

"Are the brothers truly safe where you came from?"

Roy blinked at Winry, caught off guard by her sudden appearance and question. There was an earnest expression on her face. One full of concern and hope, but also doubt and fear. It was the expression of someone who had lost too much, but was still daring to hope. 

It broke his heart to see that on her face.

A young woman like her shouldn't be so familiar with that kind of pain. 

"They are safe," he answered at last, and her expression morphed into one of relief. "The last time I saw them, they were getting ready for the trip back to Resembool." 

To their home. 

To their Winry.

"Did they… get their bodies back?" Her eyes widened in wonder when he nodded. "How?"

"Edward traded his Alchemy for Al's body."

"He traded his Alchemy?!" Both Winry and Armstrong exclaimed in unison. 

"Fullmetal correctly theorized that each person has their own Gate to Truth. Their own unique connection to Alchemy and the world. He gave up his Gate as the price to get Alphonse's body back, so he can no longer use Alchemy."

"That sounds just like him," Winry said, looking at the ground ahead with a fond but sad smile.

"To think you could use your own connection to Alchemy as material in a transmutation," Armstrong said. "I would've never thought it possible."

"I don't think anyone else did. That's why Fullmetal is a genius, isn't it?"

"He did always have a way of making the impossible seem possible," Winry said softly. 

"But…" Hawkeye's voice cut through their conversation. Other than to talk to Winry, She'd been quiet since the incident at HQ. There was something cold in her voice, something that made them all turn to look at her. "You can still use Alchemy, can't you? Does that mean you haven't gotten back what Truth took from you?"

Roy's steps slowly came to a halt.

Leave it to Riza Hawkeye to ask the one question he didn't want to answer.

"No. I got it back, but I didn't trade my Alchemy for it. That… wasn't an option for me." He swallowed nervously, and turned around to properly face her. It felt dirty to confess what he was about to. There. Among the ruins of a city that'd been used as fodder for a Philosopher's Stone. But he didn't want to hide his sins. Especially not from her. Fake as she was, he just couldn't lie to Riza Hawkeye. "I used the Philosopher's Stone that Dr. Marcoh created during the war with Ishvalan souls."

The look of shock on each of their faces was exactly what he'd expected. Still, it hurt to see the horror in Hawkeye's eyes. His own Riza had been nothing but supportive of his decision, but sometimes he wondered if in another circumstance — if Riza's sins weren't so entwined with his own — she would think of him as unredeemable. Tainted. Evil.

A true monster. 

Now he knew she would.

Winry's face turned red. The disgust in her voice was clear when she said, "I hope the Human Transmutation you performed was truly worth it."

Roy's shoulders slumped. Of course she would go there. He should've cleared that misconception earlier, but it'd felt too much like making excuses for this taste. "I'm not that big of a fool. I would never perform a Human Transmutation after seeing what it did to the Elrics. I didn't try to bring anyone back to life. I was forced to open the Gate against my will."

"Against your will?" Hawkeye asked. 

"Is that really possible?" Armstrong asked, just as shocked.

Roy massaged his right hand with his left. Even though the scars weren't there, the memory of that day created a sort of phantom pain in his hands. 

"Don't worry. From what I understand you need a stone and knowledge of human transmutation in order to force the Gate open. I doubt you'll find anyone with the need or the means to do that, now that the Homunculi are gone."

"I– I'm sorry, but…" Roy looked at Winry, who was looking down at the ground with clenched fists. Her face was still red, but her expression had morphed from anger to shame. "They took something from you even though you didn't try to bring anyone back. Isn't alchemy supposed to be about equivalent exchange? Where is the equivalence in that!"

Roy couldn't help but chuckle at her words as he remembered Fullmetal screaming something similar to Father. They were so alike. No wonder they liked each other so much.

"I was told this is God's punishment for those that dare dream too big. I guess… It's a way of keeping us, alchemists, in our place. To stop us from getting too conceited and believing we are above the rest." Roy couldn't say he wasn't guilty of that. There was hubris in believing you could protect everyone. "The punishment for a man with a vision to save his country is his eyesight."

Roy brought a hand to his eye patch.

Apparently not just on his side of the Gate.

"They took your sight," Hawkeye said, barely above a whisper. 

There was surprise in her voice, and something akin to pity on her face. Just like Winry and Armstrong.

It irked him. 

He didn't need nor deserve their pity.

Roy tsked, feeling something hot and vile fill his chest. "Don't look at me like that. I am a murderer who used the souls of the people whose homes and families he burned. I'm not a victim. I am a monster."

If anyone deserved God's punishment it would be him, not a pair of kids trying to bring back their dead mother.

He turned around and hurried ahead before they could reply.

The rest of the way to the circle was awkward and silent. No one dared say a word after his little outburst. He felt a bit guilty about it but didn't regret it. He wasn't a victim that deserved sympathy. He'd chosen to walk this path fully knowing the risks. Even if he hadn't managed to get it back, his sight was a small price to pay for saving the country from becoming a stone. 

"This is where I woke up," Roy said, once they reached the broken transmutation circle.

Armstrong stopped next to him, and Hawkeye just a few steps behind. Winry, on the other hand, wandered around the place, looking in awe. Roy wondered if it was her first time there.

"No doubt about it. This is where Edward and Alphonse disappeared." Armstrong rubbed his chin. "But this shouldn't be possible. Mustang and I made sure the transmutation circle wasn't working anymore."

Roy took the notebook from his pocket and quickly went over it. The other Roy's notes matched what was still legible on the ground. The transmutation circle was unlike any he'd seen before. There were complex shapes and runes in it he didn't recognize, but from what he could understand, this circle was for something more than just creating or modifying a human. 

He'd never been interested in the biological part of alchemy, but even he could admit this transmutation circle was fascinating.

"You're right, Armstrong. There are too many missing pieces for this to work."

"Perhaps it was the circle on your side that made it possible?" Armstrong asked.

"Perhaps, but we don't know anything about that one. That's not useful unless we decide to just wait here until something happens."

"Maybe you should try activating it anyway?" Winry asked, approaching them from the direction the blood stain was.

Roy and Armstrong looked at each other.

"It might be worth a try," Roy agreed.

"No. Absolutely not," Hawkeye said. "It's too dangerous. What if you end up somewhere else?"

"The circle is broken. It shouldn't do anything even if I activate it."

"And yet you ended up here," Riza said pointedly. "I would advise against trying things just to prove they are impossible. We don't know what or what isn't possible in these circumstances."

Roy pursed his lips together. 

She had a point.

He sighed in exasperation and ran a hand through his hair. "This makes no sense. Even if we don't understand what happened the principles of alchemy should still apply. If this circle doesn't work, then something else must have been the–" catalyst.  

Roy laughed.

He truly was an idiot.

Hawkeye narrowed her eyes at him. "What?"

Roy opened the notebook again and flipped through the pages until he found what he was looking for. "The culprit wasn't the broken circle. He was carrying the true transmutation circle with him. Look."

He held the notebook out to them and showed them the pages with the different pieces of the human transmutation circle.

"Ah!" Alex said, his eyes filling with understanding. "They align even if they're on different pages. So when you activated the circle on your side the one in the notebook reacted."

Roy nodded. "And that's why he got caught in the transmutation. That he was here was just a coincidence. He could've been somewhere else and he still would've been caught by it as long as he was carrying the notebook with him." 

"Indeed," Alex agreed.

Hawkeye rubbed the bridge of her nose, looking like she was about to have a headache. Roy could sympathize. Her Mustang was an idiot. Almost one as big as he himself had been for activating the circle on his side.

"Well! This is good news," he said, clapping his hands cheerfully. "Now that we know how this worked, we should be able to swap back. Should we give it a try?"

He looked at Riza, expectantly.

"Alright," she said reluctantly.

She was afraid. Roy couldn't blame her for it considering what had happened to the Elrics. He couldn't say he wasn't nervous himself. He would rather not end up somewhere more hostile. Or worse, a place without alchemy. Still, he was confident he got the theory right. He wanted nothing more than to return home where he still had his rank and mission. Back to Riza. To the one that didn't look at him like he was a puzzle with an unsatisfactory answer.

"Step back." He tossed the notebook in the center of the circle, clapped his hands. He stopped and looked at them. "I– uh, if this works I won't be seeing you again, so thanks. It was… interesting. Ah, and please tell the other Roy to be more careful."

He knew he himself wouldn't be clapping without double checking for circles, moving forward.

"Good luck, sir," Armstrong said.

"Please, take care of the brothers for me," Winry said, clutching her pants with her fist.

Hawkeye just stared at him with such a mixed bag of emotions on her face that Roy had trouble identifying them. Fear. Hope. Apprehension. But also gratefulness.

Roy smiled at her, hoping it would reassure her, and kneeled down to touch the transmutation circle. Just like he'd predicted, the broken circle reacted with the notebook and shined. The blue light completed the circle's missing parts. Roy closed his eyes, waiting for the light to take him into the gate.

Nothing happened.

"Did it work?" Hawkeye asked after a moment, taking a step forward.

"No." He stood up. 

"What happened? Was your theory wrong?" Winry asked.

"No. This felt just like it did before I came here. I think the other side isn't ready. We need the other Roy in the circle too."

"So we should stay here and wait for him?" Armstrong asked.

Roy sighed. "I guess we don't have another choice."

"Do our times match?" Hawkeye asked suddenly.

"Huh?"

"When you arrived, was it the same time?"

Oh. He frowned and tried to remember. "Yes. Our times match."

"It's late. We might have just missed them." Hawkeye looked back at the entrance. "I think we should call it a day and go back. No use waiting here if the other side is not ready. It's better if we come back in the morning."

Roy wanted to argue against it. There was no way to know if the others wouldn't try activating the circle in the middle of the night. The look Hawkeye gave him stopped him from it. Her expression was composed, as neutral as it usually was, but her eyes were begging. There was something more behind her request, but he didn't know what.

"Alright."

Armstrong put a hand on his shoulder. "You're all welcome to stay in the Armstrong mansion."

"Sorry, Major. I already dropped my bags at Sheska's." Winry looked at the transmutation circle. "I actually brought Alphonse's notebooks with me. I was planning to give them to the Colonel. I figured they would be more useful in his hands than in a storage box."

"I'd be happy to take a look at them tomorrow," Roy offered. "Maybe I could figure something out about this other world the brothers are stuck in.

Winry smiled at him. "Thanks."

"What about you, Lieutenant?" Armstrong asked Hawkeye.

"I appreciate the offer, but Hayate is waiting for me. I'll take the Colonel if you don't mind. There's a couple of things I'd like to go over with him."

"Huh?" He looked at Riza with surprise. 

She wanted to take him home? That was… a surprise to say the least. He could count in one hand the times he'd been to Riza's apartment. He didn't have many reasons to visit, and it wasn't proper of him as her superior to do casual visits. He guessed that wasn't much of an issue here since he was a Corporal and no longer her superior.

"Do you have an issue with it?"

"No… it's not that." He blinked at her. "Wait, you said Hayate?"

She smiled at him softly. "I did. I take it he's in your side too."

"Yeah, yeah. It's good to know he's also a constant." Roy smiled, actually looking forward to seeing the little dog. "Well, I guess that settles it. Let's reconvene here tomorrow."

Amestris 1915

"Are you going to drag me back to jail for the night, after we have a look at this circle?" 

Roy had casually asked, while they all – minus Grumman – entered a tunnel through the collapsed grounds, right in the middle of HQ's main courtyard. He was in fact afraid Riza would do so. She seemed even more ruthless than his Riza already was.  

"No." 

Ah, Riza's pokerface. In the night, torches lit up the grounds and tunnel, painting deep shadows on her face, making it a lot sharper. Darker. 

Thus, Roy almost froze in surprise when she replied : "I'll be taking you to my place." 

She immediately turned to him, and spoke before he could say anything stupid. 

"I want to keep an eye on you." 

"Of – of course." 

"I could find him a room at the Armstrong mansion, you know." 

Alex. Traitor. 

"Thank you, Major." But Riza was set on her idea. "I'd rather keep him on my couch, under Black Hayate's surveillance. In my line of sight." 

Roy didn't really register the conversation that followed. 

Riza. This Riza. Was taking him to her place. He didn't really know what to think about it. Should he be afraid? Or – 

"Oi, Mustang!" Fullmetal waved, from the other side of the circular room. 

Roy blinked, and frowned, deciding to play his usual game. 

"It's Colonel, for you, Fullmetal." 

"You're not my boss anymore. Come here with your doodle. We need to compare the two circles." 

Edward almost tore the paper from Roy's hand, and held it at arm's length in front of him. Armstrong was looking intently over his shoulder, stroking his chin, twirling his thin moustache. 

Roy made a step to join them, but his gaze fell on Riza, and this time, he frowned. 

She was standing to the side of the circle, arms folded, impassive. But Roy could see the tension in her shoulders and neck, her hands holding her arms a tad too tightly. The line of her jaw was sharper than usual, when her eyes were fixed to the ground, slightly hooded. 

To anyone, she was just waiting, thinking maybe. 

To Roy, she was visibly distressed. 

He meant to move towards her, but as soon as she noticed he was looking at her, she frowned, unfolded her arms, and stood at attention, effectively erasing any sign of unease from her stance, looking right through him. 

She was sending him away. 

Roy turned around, his throat tightening, and tried to focus on Edward's and Armstrong's exchange about the transmutation circle. But they were done, it seemed. 

Considering how different alchemy seemed to be here, maybe it was for the best he couldn't really concentrate on the matter. 

Edward got up and brushed up his knees – quite gracefully for someone with his arm in a sling, but he would be used to that, wouldn't he? – and he turned to Armstrong, who handed him Roy's scribbled copy of the circle on his side. 

"I need to sleep over it. But there must be a tweak somewhere. Yours looks like a fucked up human transmutation circle… probably explains that you didn't exchange bodies." 

"Should we change the one here?" Armstrong wondered. "That could be dangerous." 

"If there's a constant between here and where I'm from, it's the price for human transmutation," Roy replied almost absentmindedly, his gaze elsewhere. "I'd rather avoid that, and I'm pretty sure my counterpart would, too, from what I've gathered." 

"You've done it? You tried human –"

"For the last time, no, I haven't. I'm just not keen on losing body parts." 

"Oh yeah, very funny, Colonel, that's what I call tactful. You are the same guy, that's for sure. Anyway, you mind if I keep your doodle?"

Riza was still standing rigidly by the side. 

"Hello? I'm talking to you, bastard!" 

"Huh?" Roy blinked. 

"Fuck. Ours is a moron, but this one is not very far, is it?" 

"Language, Ed." 

Both Roy and Edward startled and turned towards Riza. Roy would have expected Armstrong to take his defense, not her. Not with how she was behaving. 

And yet. 

"You're right. We should go, and meet again tomorrow morning for more brainstorming." Alex had decided to calm the situation. "Today was very emotional. We all need some rest." 

"Right, major. Emotional." Edward snickered under his breath, but turned around and followed Riza, who had already started down the half collapsed tunnel without a look back. 

Roy followed them all, from afar, his insides twisting, adding some anxious pain to the ever present pulling in his side. He had not argued about giving it a rest. 

Trying to activate the circle without understanding what had really happened could be dangerous. Tweaking the array in hope to reverse the operation could turn out even worse – they were dealing with human transmutation. 

His counterpart here had done it. In what circumstances, he had no idea, and little hope Riza would let him know. But he'd seen the Truth. 

Roy hoped it was worth it. He seriously doubted it, considering the obtained results seem to be different but equally not what was expected on both sides, from what he had gathered of their discussion from earlier – he'd noted he hadn't been the only one withholding information. But at least, this Roy seemed to have managed to… avoid paying the price? Somehow? Or was the scar in his side the result of this? 

Roy resisted pulling his jacket and shirt up to glance at it. 

Whatever had happened here, he himself wouldn't risk it. He'd been lucky to lose only an eye in battle, and he wasn't going to lose anything else, just like he'd said to Ed, even if Fullmetal didn't understand who Roy was talking about. 

Maybe that made him a coward. Maybe he had no right to be so selfish, considering all the death and misery and destruction on his shoulders, and seeing his counterpart here seemed to be quite better at handling all this. But if he had to try a human transmutation to go back, knowing what it entailed, well. 

He'd rather not. 

They would have to force him through it, if they wanted him to, and he didn't think that was possible. 

After all, here, he was still Colonel. He had his two eyes. Sure, the pain in his side and in his broken hands were constant and somewhat debilitating. Sure, Riza seemed to hate the very idea that he wasn't himself – but the Riza on his side probably hated him for actually being himself. There was no winning on this part, so maybe he'd rather suffer because he was the wrong man, rather than because he had wronged her. He didn't deserve her anyway. 

There was the Parliament thing – this Riza here had shown she was a little envious of that. But if he was still Colonel, he could still work towards this. 

Would he, though? He couldn't bet on it. He'd try. He owed this, to many, it seemed. But he was far from being sure to succeed. 

Overall, he had no incentive to risk his life or body integrity to go back to a life that was, everything considered, relatively worse, because of his own choices, mostly. He was given a miraculous occasion to start anew.

So why bother going back, if it was that risky? 

Chapter Text

Amestris 1917

Roy’d never had the chance to visit Riza's Central City apartment before. He didn't know what to expect, especially out of this version of her, but he was curious to see if it looked anything like her old apartment in East City. He had barely stepped inside when Black Hayate came rushing at him and almost knocked him to the ground.

"Woah, someone is happy to see me," he said, kneeling down to pet the — no longer so small — dog. He hadn't grown to be particularly big, but the difference in size between this older version of Black Hayate and theirs was noticeable. "Hey there, boy. It's good to see you too."

"You sound surprised," Hawkeye commented as she put her keys on the table.

"I don't think our Hayate has ever been this excited to see me. Not even when I tried to bribe him with jerky."

Hawkeye smiled at the comment, so soft and quick Roy almost missed it. "You're two years behind, right? Give it some time. The Colonel slowly bought him over with treats despite my best efforts to the contrary."

She gave Hayate a disapproving look. The dog whined, and burrowed his nose against Roy's vest's pocket, looking for the nonexistent treats.

Maybe the Roy from this world wasn't so bad after all. 

"Hayate, bed," Hawkeye said sharply. The dog immediately ran back to his corner, where his toys and bed were located. She took a few steps towards the kitchen before stopping to look at him. "Would you like quiche for dinner?"

"Um, sure." He hadn't eaten quiche since Hughes's death, because it reminded him too much of their academy days. He wasn't about to tell her that. "I'll eat anything you give me."

"Hm, good. I should have the ingredients to bake a fresh pie."

That made him raise his eyebrow. "You'll cook dinner?"

Hawkeye gave him a funny look. "Of course. It's my home." She grabbed an apron from the kitchen and then added. "Don't tell me she can't cook."

She didn't need to clarify who she was referring to.

Roy thought of the first time he'd eaten Riza's food. Not long after he'd started his apprenticeship. For some reason she'd really wanted to prepare a meal for him, and he'd happily accepted the offer. He was not a picky eater by any means. In fact, his aunt would say his sense of taste was so bad he could eat stones. 

Riza had really put that theory to test with that first meal. 

Eating it had been the easy part. He hadn't minded that some parts were burned and others undercooked. He'd eaten it all with a smile. It was the half a day he'd spent in the restroom that made him hesitate the next time Riza offered to cook for him. She'd been so earnest and determined that he hadn't had the heart to say no to her. He'd been relieved when that second meal had turned out to be edible. Every meal after that had only gotten better.

It was about a month before he left for the academy that he'd learned Riza had enrolled in cooking classes after making him sick.

That was the first — but not the last — time he'd been amazed by her tenacity.

Roy cleared his throat. "It's not that. I just haven't had the chance to eat her food since Master Hawkeye's funeral."

"I see." She pressed her lips together, looking either sad or displeased, but she was speaking again before Roy could think much of it. "Why don't you shower while I prepare dinner? You look like you need it."

Roy resisted the urge to sniff himself. 

He didn't really look that bad, did he?

"Sure." He turned to the hallway with a blank expression. "Uh–"

"First door to the left. I'll bring you a towel and a change of clothes in a moment."

"Thank you, Lieutenant."

The apartment was small and finding the restroom was easy. Hayate followed him all the way there, settling next to the door when Roy stopped him from entering with him. It was as endearing as it was disconcerting to see how attached to him this Hayate was.

Once inside he stood in the middle of the room for a moment, just staring blankly at his reflection in the mirror. Hawkeye was right. He did look like he could use a shower. 

He was covered in dust and grime. His hair was sticky and looked like he hadn't washed it in a couple of days. His uniform was crumpled, but the dark color hid most of the stains in it. More than anything he was surprised to see how thin he — or rather this body — was. His face looked sunken, even with half of it covered, and the uniform looked a bit too big for him. The last time he'd looked this tired was during Ishval.

It wasn't just his appearance either. 

He felt tired. 

His body was sore in odd places and the dull ache on the left side of his face had been steadily growing into a full headache. Roy rubbed his temple, trying to massage the pain away. He froze when his fingers caught the edge of his eye patch, and debated whether to look underneath or not. 

Eventually, he tugged the eye patch off and turned back to the mirror. His breath hitched at the sight. It truly was a hideous scar. His left side looked… well it didn't look quite human with all the scar tissue and missing eye. He looked half himself and half a monster. Roy couldn't help thinking it suited him. That was exactly how he felt most days.  

I got myself a face fitting of my crimes. Marcoh had told him when Roy asked him about his face.

Now, he could understand that sentiment. It was strangely satisfying to have a physical representation of the repulsiveness of his soul. If they wouldn't judge him for his actions, at least let them judge him for his appearance. Such was the banality of humans.

Roy tossed the eye patch to the ground, and undressed. He spared just a brief moment to look at his unscarred abdomen before entering the shower. His body shuddered in protest when the full blast of the cold water hit him. He didn't care. He stood there, with his eye closed and a hand on the wall, under the ice cold water, letting it numb his body and wash away the worst of the pain and soot.

The water had turned scalding hot by the time he heard a knock on the door. He gasped for air, only then realizing he'd been holding back his breath. How long had he been there under the water?

Another knock on the door was accompanied by a muffled, "Roy?"

He groaned when his shoulder flared in pain when he moved away from the wall. 

"Come in," he yelled and quickly turned the water back to a normal temperature.

The door opened.

"I brought you some clothes," Hawkeye said. He watched her shadow on the curtain move around and drop something on top of the toilet. She stood there, unmoving, after. "Um, are you alright? I was calling your name but you weren't answering."

She sounded worried. 

Had she been standing outside for long? 

Please worry about yourself, sir! He heard his own Riza scream in his head. 

He really was an idiot for making her worry in two different worlds.

"I'm alright. I'll be out in a moment."

"Okay." Her shadow moved and he watched as she picked up his dirty uniform from the ground. "I'll take care of this."

"Uh, thanks."

Roy let out a heavy sigh when the door closed again. He waited until her footsteps — and Hayate's — had disappeared before grabbing the soap bar. He cleaned himself as quickly and efficiently as he could, feeling just a bit weirded out by a body that was neither his nor someone else's.

Hawkeye had brought him a long sleeve pajama set that was exactly his size. He couldn't help but wonder who it belonged to. It was too big to fit her, and it was well worn, definitely not an emergency spare. It made no sense for Hawkeye to have something like that. Not unless there was a man in her life. That wouldn't be the strangest thing he'd heard in this world… If anything his — their — Riza still being single was the oddity there.

God knew anyone would be lucky to have her.

He wanted to ask Hawkeye about it, but it wasn't his business what — or rather who — she, or her counterpart, did in their free time. Not even if they really had feelings for each other — some days he wasn't sure it wasn't all in his head — he didn't have any claim to her. He'd never promised her anything, and she sure as hell didn't have to be alone out of loyalty to something that may or may not happen in the future. 

He put on the pajamas, and shoved all his hurt feelings deep into the abyss of his soul. Right next to all the other feelings he didn't have a right to claim.

He came out of the restroom toweling his wet hair, and smiled when he noticed Hawkeye sitting at the dining table with the freshly baked quiche. "Sorry for the wait."

"Don't worry." Hawkeye was staring at him with an indecipherable expression. It took him a moment to realize she was staring at his left side, where he'd forgotten to put back the eye patch. He turned his face away and tried to be discreet as he put the eye patch back on. He didn't mind if anyone thought he was unsightly — none of those stares would burn him like Heathcliff's had, rightfully full of disgust and betrayal — but the last thing he wanted was for her to lose her appetite at the sight of his disfigured face.

They ate in silence. He kept his gaze on his plate, feeling a bit self-conscious and exposed. It wasn't until he took the first bite that he realized how hungry he actually was. He ate the rest of it in a few more bites. Her cooking was just as good as he remembered, and he took his time to enjoy the flavor in between bites. The taste, her presence, the ease of it all, made his chest ache with nostalgia. "Thanks, it was really good."

She smiled at him, her eyes brightening up with something that made her look younger and even more beautiful. He looked away when he felt his cheeks heat up. Get a grip Mustang. This wasn't even his own Riza. Not to mention she was very likely seeing someone. He looked at Hayate instead who immediately jumped to his lap, all but begging to be scratched.

"Can I ask you a question?"

Roy stopped petting Hayate — earning a loud whine from the dog — and blinked at her. He was taken aback by the sudden seriousness in her tone and face. "That depends... Am I allowed to ask some questions too?"

"Equivalent exchange, huh?" Hawkeye chuckled. "Only if I get to go first this time."

"That's fair."

"Why use the stone if you hate it so much?"

Roy gulped. 

She really wasn't holding back her punches. Not even Riza had asked him about it. He liked to think that it was because she understood him enough not to need an explanation, but perhaps she'd just preferred making her own excuse for it in her mind. Either way he felt that if there was one person he owned an explanation to, it was her. Even to this version of her.

"Because we can't bring back the dead," he said at last. "We can't bring back the souls trapped in the stone. But I can help the surviving Ishvalans… just not without my sight. They would've never let me stay on active duty while blind. Even with Grumman behind me, the Generals wouldn't support it. So you see my choices were either retiring or using the stone, and knowing that no one above me would work to correct this country, the choice was simple. I'd rather become a bigger monster than let things go as they are now."

"You are very different from him," Hawkeye said after a moment of silence. "I don't know if his guilt would let him make that choice. You… you're more pragmatic."

"I lost the right to put myself first a long time ago." If not the moment he'd taken his first life, then the moment he'd burned Riza's back. "I owe it to everyone I've killed, and everyone that has trusted in me, to do what's needed. Otherwise everything I've done to get here would've been for nothing."

He could never let that happen. Not for Hughes, not for Riza, not for Heathcliff, and not for all the countless Ishvalans lives he'd taken. He would condemn his soul to hell and back before he let any of their deaths and suffering be in vain.

"Even if it breaks you?" The way she was looking at him now, it was the same way she'd looked at him at the ruins. Only now Roy realized it wasn't pity at all. It was sadness. "Even you have a limit to how much you can shoulder. You'll break if you keep chipping at your soul that way."

There was something about the way she said this, about how heartfelt it sounded, that it made him search her eyes for the missing pieces in her story. "Is that what happened to him? Is that why he was demoted and sent away? Did he break?"

"No," she said, staring right at him defiantly. "He wasn't demoted or sent away. He renounced his commission soon after the parliament was put in place, and then he enlisted to help in Briggs."

He had done what?!

"Wha– Why would he ever do something like that?!"

"I– only he can tell you the reason why. But perhaps he felt he wasn't needed anymore. The referendum came while he was still out of commission. He was uh, recuperating from his wounds against Bradley… between that and what happened to the Elrics… I think it was too much for him."

"So he ran away."

And judging by the mob they'd encountered that afternoon, he ran away when he was most needed.

"We all deal with things how we can." She looked for something in his face. "You think he's selfish."

"No. I think he's a coward that abandoned his duty because he felt he'd failed."

Her expression soured. "Failed? Bradley is dead, Ishval is being reconstructed, and the parliament is back in power. All this in no small part thanks to his work. How did he fail? You're just being too harsh on him."

Roy narrowed his eyes at her. She thought he was being harsh for expecting him to see through his goals? "Would you tell that to the families of all the people he's killed? To the countless Ishvalans that are surely still suffering the repercussions of the war?"

"He's done his part! How long should he punish himself until it is acceptable for him to be human? Where does it stop being atonement and where does it become senseless punishment?"

"Punishment? Atonement?" Roy let out a mirthless laugh. "There's no just punishment for our crimes. If one life equals another then there's nothing we could ever trade to atone for our sins. Or will you tell me that your life is worth more than the hundreds of Ishvalans you shot?"

Hawkeye flinched. Her eyes went wide and her face turned white. She seemed surprised. Shocked even. Roy frowned, confused by her strong reaction, before it all clicked in his head.

"You weren't in Ishval," he whispered, feeling all the air leave his lungs.

"I– No. I was still in the academy. H–how?"

That explained it. Why she seemed lighter than their Riza. Why she kept defending the other Roy's actions. She had never gone through the hell that was Ishval. She had no idea what kind of monster he really was. She didn't know what it felt to shoot a running old man on the back of his head. She didn't know what it felt to bury the defiled body of a child whose only crime was being born in the wrong place and time. 

They might look the same, but Hawkeye and Riza had lived completely different lives.

"I guess things never got as bad here," he answered.  "In our world, some of the second year students got sent to Ishval because we were short-handed even with the State Alchemists. She was one of them."

"That… explains a lot." Hawkeye looked back at him with those deep brown eyes that seemed to judge him for things he couldn't comprehend. "About you, and the way you behave around me. She blames herself for it too, doesn't she?"

Roy looked away. "Many of us do." 

Even Hughes had carried that guilt, in his own unique way.

"I… I still think you're wrong. That kind of punishment is nothing but gluttony. It serves no one." She gave him a sad smile. "Still… I can't help but wonder if I would understand him better if I'd been there too."

"Don't," Roy replied bitterly. That wasn't something she should wish for. "You are the lucky one. I'd rather we never met if that could spare her from the hell that was Ishval."

Hawkeye frowned and her tone turned a bit colder. "Don't you think that's for her to decide?"

He laughed. "I'm sure she'd rather not be a mass murderer if she could."

"I don't think you know her as well as you think you do. I am here after all. I chose to follow him, even if I didn't go through Ishval."

Roy didn't have a reply to that. In fact he was puzzled by it. Why would she follow him if she hadn't been in Ishval? What did this Roy had to offer her if not the chance of redemption he offered his Riza?

"Why did you?"

She averted her gaze. "Because I believe in him." 

"You shouldn't. He doesn't deserve your trust." He would end up betraying her trust, like he'd betrayed Riza's. 

Hawkeye sighed. 

"You know… you two can be annoyingly similar at times." She grabbed their empty plates, dropped them in the sink, and turned back to him with an angry look. "It's a good thing it's not up to you where I put my trust." She then added before he could even react. "The red toothbrush is yours. Goodnight."

Hayate whined when she all but slammed the bedroom door shut. He smiled at the dog and patted his head. 

"Sorry boy. I think I made her angry."

It felt wrong to fight with her like that. Hughes had always been the one to challenge him about Ishval. Never Riza. Perhaps Hawkeye was right in that regard. Maybe going through Ishval was part of the glue that held him and Riza together. He just couldn't imagine that she really would choose to go through that hell again if given the chance to change her life. At least he hoped she wouldn't. She deserved so much better than that.

Roy rubbed his face and yawned. 

He would need to find a way to make peace with Hawkeye in the morning. He didn't like the idea of parting ways with her like this. "What do you think, Hayate? Coffee and breakfast for the lady?"

The dog wagged his tail at the mention of food. 

Roy chuckled. "Yeah I also think it's a good idea."

Amestris 1915

Roy had been to Riza's apartment before. Well, his Riza's, but it was pretty close. Except for the unopened cardboard boxes on the ground. Had they moved from the East that recently? It didn't look recent. There was a layer of dust on those boxes.

As soon as Riza had opened the door, a small dog politely came to sniff him all over, its tail wagging, and even went as far as to lick his hand. 

That was a stark difference to the slightly bigger (and older) ball of fur and joy that Roy was used to, who jumped on his legs and begged for treats whenever Riza had her back turned. Roy swallowed the unease he felt at the idea that even the dog didn't want him here, and greeted him anyway. 

"Hello, Black Hayate, hi, good boy." 

Roy glimpsed Riza looking at him, an indecipherable expression on her face. She turned away and led him to the kitchen quickly. She opened her mouth for the first time since she’d asked him to follow her to her place: 
"I don't have much to eat. Hope you don't mind leftovers." 

"It's okay. I'm not really hungry." 

They ate some salad, cheese and bread in silence, facing each other at the small kitchen table, neither holding their gaze on the other long enough for their eyes to cross. Roy forced down the food mostly out of politeness. Riza finished first, and waited until he was done to take his plate and cutlery. 

"There's a spare toothbrush in the cupboard over the bathroom sink. I'll bring you a towel and I must have some oversized pajamas that could fit you." 

That was a lot, and what she offered clashed against the way she said it all, but Roy couldn't help but feel a little better, somehow. This Riza wasn't so different from his. Even if… there was something weird there. When he looked at her inquisitively, she added: "Corridor, second door to the right."

Roy got up, and got to the bathroom, leaving the door open for Riza to bring him his stuff. 
Over the bathroom sink, the cupboard's door was a mirror. He opened it, found the spare toothbrush, and closed it again. 

He couldn't help it. Leaning over the sink, keeping the toothbrush in his right hand, he let the left trace the side of his face once again. 

Two years. Two years that he'd only seen his face whole in pictures. Two years he'd been avoiding mirrors. Two years that his face reflected how he was inside – a hideous monster. Maybe he deserved it. 

No. No, he couldn’t think that way. He hated himself for being so vain, but he did miss his face, missed knowing he could use his charms. He could even admit he missed the looks he'd get – from women or men, not that he'd act on those, especially after– after– 

But you left. She didn't seem to have any problem with that and you still left. 

That was pity, you idiot. He knew her. She'd found a way to try and make him feel better, and that was it. He should be grateful, and leave her alone. She was better off without him, his stupidity, and his mutilated face. 

His light dinner was threatening to climb back up his throat, when he noticed Riza, the other Riza, looking at him through the mirror. 

This hostile, incomprehensible version of Riza. 

He gave her back her stare, holding it longer than he had all day. 

She didn't flinch. 

Roy couldn't have told how long they stayed this way. 

There was something in her eyes, something soft, softer than he'd seen her all day. Riza'd had this look, when… 

In the end, he blinked slowly, then turned around to walk closer to her. She held the clothes and the towel towards him, and he took them. 

Their fingers brushed against each other, and he expected her to quickly take her hands away. But she didn't. Never breaking eye contact, Roy closed the distance that was left between their faces, until – 

The slap came so fast and so out of nowhere, Roy stood speechless, ears ringing, seeing stars, for half a dozen of seconds. 
"What the hell do you think you're doing, sir?" 

He also didn't think straight when he answered, floored. 
"Sorry, I just… thought… that you'd… I mean I mi–"  

But it wasn't her, was she? Also what the hell was he just going to say? 

"Shit. Oh, shit. I'm sorry Lieutenant, I got –" 
Somehow, his slip had mellowed her, when he thought it would make her, this Riza, not his, even more furious. This woman really was an enigma. 

"Carried away again?" 

"No, I… Well, yes… I'm sorry." 

"I guess we should just forget about it, don't you think?" 

This came out quick, and there was a tension in her voice that Roy didn't know how to interpret, until–

"Fuck, he's never done that, right? You're not… You've never…" Roy shook his head. "That man really is an idiot." 

Of course he had to be stupid. Riza narrowed her eyes, but stayed relatively cordial. 

"That's called being proper. You're the idiot. Didn't it occur to you that I might have a say in the matter?" 

"You should see my Riza," Roy smirked, but it disappeared quickly. He looked down, passing a hand through his hair. 

Indeed. Stop being an idiot, Mustang. 

"I'm sorry. You're right. But I'm not an idiot, I'm– I'm a jerk. To both of you. You're not her. I shouldn't have… It's bad to… you're so different, I…" He let out a mirthless chuckle and looked to the side. "Yet I manage to be an arsehole with you both." 

"What did you do to her?"

Roy looked at Riza. The look in her eyes had not disappeared. He didn't really want to answer — he had not talked about this to anyone, not this way, and the shame his behaviour caused him was just as consequent as the shame that had pushed him to leave. But she was still talking to him after he'd forgotten himself and tried to kiss her. 

Riza Hawkeye was too good to be true, that seemed to be a constant in every world. It gave him the courage to answer, his eyes fixed on the tiles on the ground. 

"I… left her. To chase… chase after the idea of bringing Edward back. To know about the other world. Well, worlds, I should say, now. This kid was my responsibility, and… For about a year, I–" 

"A year? You left her for a year?" Her brow knit in anger, and this time, he didn't think he could make it up to her as easily as he had miraculously just before. "Did you ask her first? Did you tell her, even? Or did you just disappear like–" 

"Well, no. I know her. She would– I'm not going to impose on her to follow me–" 

"With all due respect, sir, I've followed you into the army, ended up in Ishval, on my own–" 

"You've what?" 

He looked at her, his jaw clenching against his will, a shudder running along his spine.
Her eyes. Her demeanor. It was Riza, it was exactly his Riza, except there was this layer. Of something. Something he recognized because it was in him, too. 

But it shouldn't be. It shouldn't– 

"I hope he and I never cross each other." His hands balled into fists, pain creeping up to his wrists. "Or I'm going to–" 

She talked, her tone cutting without needing to raise her voice. 
"I chose to follow you – him – into the army. I was sent to Ishval shortly after I enlisted. He certainly didn't ask me to follow him." 

She narrowed her eyes again, and looked as if she wasn't happy — no, no, she was disgusted — with what she was seeing. 
"You certainly are different, too. You're very… possessive." 

That didn't sound like a compliment. 
Roy looked down again, unable to sustain such a look from her. His shirt suddenly felt too tight, constricting his chest. 

He hurt her. And she was already hurt. 

She was hurt beyond repair. 

His Riza had killed. Most of the time, as a last resort. She didn't like it. She'd confessed it a couple of times. 

But his Riza had not had to look at children in her sight, and pull the trigger, or the trigger would be pulled on her. Because that's what had happened. He knew, because he'd been through it. 

Alone. 

He hoped it hadn't been the case for her. Dealing with all this by himself… Well. It'd taken him to some places he might not have managed to crawl back from. Sometimes he wasn't sure he had. 

And she was right. Neither Riza were his. Not her, not the one on the other side. Just like she had chosen to enlist, the other Riza had. He had not asked her to — would have done anything to stop her from it if he'd known before the fact.

Roy looked up, and immediately down when he saw Riza's face. 

"I'm sorry. I'm… I think I'll just go to sleep." 

"Yeah. I'll have Hayate guard you." Riza cleared her throat, finding her stern tone again. "If you try to run away, he'll bark, and I'll be there to stop you. Remember I sleep with a gun on my bedside table."

Silence.

"Not under your pillow, then?" Roy tried, looking to the side, throwing a line without looking like it. 
"This is not an ideal storage method for the weapon to function at its best." 

She bit. This immediate, overly serious reply was more than he could have expected. 

"Alright." He walked to the living room, where Hayate was already waiting at the foot of the sofa. "Good night, Lieutenant." 

"Sir?" 

Roy turned around. She was still looking at him with mixed emotions swirling on her face, and once again he felt her eyes were too big, her stare too raw. 

"You better apologize to her when you get back. And acknowledge that you left because you felt inadequate." 

"What? I don't–" 
"I know you. And I know… If you two don't share what happened in Ishval, I know you feel like you don't deserve her. Or that you deserve anything." 

It was her turn to look away. 

Roy waited, certain she was going to say something else. But she didn't say anything, and kept her eyes fixed on the ground. She stayed there, though. She was expecting him to say something, to agree, or defend himself. 
He couldn't help but grumble.

"Yeah, yeah, alright. I'll try. But that's – you don't have the whole picture." He felt his cheeks get hotter. A warmth that wasn't a pleasant warmth. 

"What? What could–" 

"Well, first of all, your Roy," he said on purpose, half turning away, refusing to look at her. "Is not missing half of his face." 

Now his cheeks were burning and his throat was tight. What did you need to expose your vanity to her this way? What was it with Riza — both Riza, but it felt this one was even more skilled at seeing him naked to the bone — that made him admit things as easily? 

Maybe it was Ishval. It always came down to it. 

"What? What happened to you?" 
Her voice was so small when she spoke, he had to look up, to see the horror he'd already seen on her face. Right after he crossed. During the first couple of seconds he saw her. 

"What happened to him? I know that face." 

"You first. Equivalent exchange." 

That woman. She always won. 

"I – I took a bullet to the face."

Riza obviously tried to suppress a wince. 
"Ishval?" 

"Oh, no. Couple years ago." He waved while keeping his voice light. He didn't really want to say much more. "Your turn." 

"He was forced to commit a human transmutation. And lost his sight." 

"Ah." 

He paused. 

That explained it, then. Why she'd asked about his eyes right away.

Roy passed a hand on his neck. 
"Forced, uh…" 

And lost his sight. 

Roy blinked a couple of times — he could see perfectly. But there was an irony there he wasn't sure he was really grasping. Not that he wanted to try. 

How did he — but there was only one way, was it? 

Bile rose up his throat and he must have made a face, because he saw Riza's eyes widen, and she had a step backwards. 

This other version of himself… how much guilt was he ready to live with? At what price? And for what? 

Calm down. She's not the one you're furious with. 

Roy tried to defuse the situation by forcing a hollow chuckle. 
 
"Well it seems he got better, right?… hum. But, uh, he must have been… surprised, then." 

Riza's gaze burned him as surely as if he'd set fire to himself. Now the anger had turned into something quieter, and more vicious. His shirt was too tight. Way too tight. 

"The bullet. I– I lost an eye. Just– just one. When I– Still… Hum. But, it must not have been very nice, if… I mean losing his sight must have left some… and I was alone when…" 

Roy stopped trying. Riza's jaw and her empty hands clenched, but her voice was still incredibly small.
"Why didn't you tell me earlier?" 

"What would it have changed?" 

No matter how Roy tried to soften his answer, it still hurt. She looked away, closing her arms tight around herself. Roy felt like replacing her arms with his own. But he knew better. He would have to comfort her without touching her. To push aside his own discomfort. He deserved it. She didn't, no matter what she thought about it. 

"Listen, there's only one way out of where I was, it's not like that maze of tunnels we've been through here. And everyone in Central knows about that other world thing. There's very little chance he's been thrown in prison, for example," he tried, forcing a smile. "And the Riza there is…" 

Is what? Is what, Mustang? Shut up. 

"What I mean is, he's surely fine. I'll just get my body back with a couple new bruises because he's going to bump into things, is all. Took me a while to get used to. And he'll get both his eyes back, and–" 

And whatever you two have going on. 

Roy didn't know if he believed what he'd just said. If he wanted to believe it or not. This discussion had shaken him. It would be so easy to just do nothing and stay here… with this Riza. He could help her. She’d been through hell as much as he had. He could be useful to her. On his side, Riza helped him, but there wasn’t anything he could do for her. Except leave. Leave her alone. 

He was going to offer to tell her the whole story. To sit down, and compare their timelines. To get to know each other better than this weird distorted view they had, where they projected the other version they knew on someone who was just different enough to make everything askew. Try to smooth down those differences.  

He’d just opened his mouth when Riza spoke again. 

She was both softer and more stern than she'd been. 

“We should get some rest. I have to be at HQ at 6:30 tomorrow, and you’re coming with me.” 

Right. 
Defuse, Mustang. Be nice. 

“Surely, that paperwork can wait. And your superior is not around,” Roy smirked – he felt he could get away with being a little more teasing. 

“All units have been assigned to cleaning the rubble and repairing what can be in Central,” Riza replied as if he had not said anything, her voice hollow.  “We’re lacking soldiers. We’re lacking arms. There’s been too many casualties. HQ is in emergency mode, right now. We’ll be cleaning with the others.” 

Roy was sobered again. Why did he have to be so stupid, he didn't know. But he had an objection he felt needed to be stated.  

“You forget I can’t clap.” 

“But you can use a shovel, just like everyone else.”

Take that, Mustang.   

She turned to Hayate.
“Hayate. If he tries to leave, bite him.” 

She turned away after patting the dog, but without a look at Roy, and closed the door to her bedroom behind herself, after she added: “Hayate is not allowed on the furniture.” 

Roy sighed, turned the lights off and went to sit. The small living room was reminiscent of both his own place, and the other Riza’s. The big window didn’t have blinds, and he was too lazy to get up and close the curtains; the room was drenched in a flat, pale moonlight. Riza had left a pillow and a neatly folded blanket on the sofa, but he just left the pajamas and towel on them, and didn’t touch them. 

He was surprised when the very polite Hayate pawed at his leg. 

“You heard your mistress. No dogs on the sofa.” 

Roy pet the dog, who whined, rubbing his head on Roy’s knee. Roy sighed again, and after a while, let himself slide from the sofa to the ground, using the seat as a backrest. The wound in his side screamed and tore, but he tried to ignore it. 

“Come here, Hayate,” he said, patting his now crossed legs. “Let’s be well behaved dogs.”

Chapter Text

Amestris 1915

It took a while, but after half a dozen “good boy” and pets, the shy Black Hayate jumped on Roy’s legs, turning a couple of times before plopping down with his head against Roy’s chest.
The dog let out a contented sigh, which Roy would have thought comical, in another situation.
He raked his fingers in Hayate’s warm fur, seeking comfort. He was happy at least the dog welcomed him, in the end. Not without effort, though.

If he won the dog — and maybe he did so just because Hayate’s mistress had been harsh to him — could he win this Riza's heart?

Not even in a romantic sense. He just… missed Riza. The Riza on his side. He missed the connection they had, the one that he’d severed when he left like a thief in the night, without so much as leaving a note behind him. After all she’d done for him.

Meeting the one here had only made the ache in his chest sharper, deeper. He'd repressed how much he longed for her, it seemed.

But he couldn’t bear burdening her longer. And then, if he decided to stay, to sabotage everyone’s effort in switching them back, wouldn’t he burden this Riza too?

Did he really want to try, especially considering how broken she already was? He would make it worse. He would make it so much worse for her.

He’d thought this side was better, if only because his counterpart seemed to handle things better than he’d done. The other Roy had managed to keep up and stay useful all along. Found a way to get his sight back, quickly, without much of a time off, when on his side, Roy'd been out of commission for months — and never regained his eye. Being cured came at the price of yet more guilt, Roy’d bet. But from what he understood about him, this man either was able to shoulder a lot more culpability than himself, or was totally immune to it. Roy hoped it was the first option, because as much as he hated himself, he’d hate even more to really be the cold, calculating, soulless monster people already thought he was.

Roy wasn’t strong enough for this all.

And he wasn’t strong enough for two. This Riza, here, needed someone else than him. She needed the strong, steel willed, seemingly invulnerable Roy. Not him.

But who needed him on his side?

Hayate sighed again, rolling on his back. Roy had a small, sad smile as he poked one of his paws, then rubbed the dog’s belly.

On his side, for a good part of the serious changes that had happened, he'd been too busy trying to get back on his feet to have a hand in the political mess his killing — assassinating — the head of state had resulted in. Licking his wounds, while the very thing he had worked towards during all his career had happened without him. And then he’d left, because, what could he do? He wasn’t needed anymore. He’d done his part, there, and had burdened his entourage enough. He’d gone to try and make himself useful, bury his crippling guilt elsewhere. Even using alchemy, something he’d built his life on, something he was amongst the last people able to do, there, only brought him back to when it’d been for the worse. So he’d stopped using it.

However, if he felt guilty for a great number of things, he didn’t for killing Bradley. If anything — Roy snickered to himself — he felt pride about it.

He let his eyes wander around in the barely lived in living room. Far from being an echo of Riza's apartment on his side, this place felt more like his. Like she barely stayed there at all. The ache in his chest came back, but this time it wasn't longing. He ached for her. He knew exactly what she'd been through. It was unfair. She shouldn't have. Not her.

All in all… his little delusional thoughts about staying here and rebuilding his life were just a fantasy. This side wasn’t all that better. They had no parliament yet — and Grumman? Grumman wouldn’t relent. They were stuck with yet another Fuhrer, and even if he was a lot better, the power wasn’t back in the hands of the people.

Riza had been to Ishval. This… he couldn’t forgive. Partly because that probably meant she wasn’t the only one who had not been spared the horror of becoming a monster, and being left to deal with it afterwards. How many of them had gone through it? Who else in their team? Hughes? All the others?

Hughes was dead all the same, though.

Roy watched the moon slowly disappear from the window frame, the shadows elongating, distorting the room, then plunging it into darkness. His thoughts were all over the place, and he realized he was tired, because he had trouble organizing them.

What an idiot he’d been. And now he was stuck there. He felt more useless than he’d felt in years — almost as useless as he’d felt when he’d learnt Fullmetal had disappeared. And that said something, because for two years, he’d been the most useless git.

Edward… what was Roy going to do, if the boy came back the next morning to tell him he was stuck? That there was nothing he could do? If the other Roy — curse him — if the other version of himself had to clap to activate the circle, then they would need to clap to do it here too, right? And who could? Alphonse, and he was too weak. Roy would never want to ask him to take care of this mess. Were there anyone else, on this side? Mrs Curtis? How long would they have to wait for her to come by? Would the other Roy know to wait?

He should have stayed in the tunnels, to wait, just in case. Just in case the other arsehole–

Calm down.

If the other had met Riza, and he surely had, she wouldn't let him go there alone at night. Even the one here had taken him home with her. And she was right.

He should rest.

Rest, in this place that wasn’t foreign enough to feel new, that smelled and felt like a woman that was just different enough to feel terrifyingly off, when all he wanted was to take her in his arms and rest his head in the crook of her neck. Off enough for her to not want that, at all, and him to feel guilty for longing.

Roy pet Hayate’s head again, and the dog turned around and burrowed his nose in the crook of his arm, without waking up.

If he could cross back, he would tell Riza. He would apologize, lay his future at her feet, let her decide, and not take her choices for granted. If she rejected him, then for once he’d have a good reason to fuck off back to Briggs.

But after all, she’d been the one who’d taken him by the hand and pulled him into bed with her, that one and only time. At a moment where he felt the most vile and helpless. And he had not complained. She'd made him feel whole again, feel like himself. Riza's choices could be surprising, but not bad. Not bad at all…

Roy's eyes flew open when Hayate suddenly barked and jumped from his legs, to run outside of the living room. Disoriented, it took him a couple of minutes to remember where he was and why he was there.

He got up with a groan, his side pulling, and limped as he followed the whimpering dog all the way to Riza's bedroom door. Hayate was scratching at it, pacing back and forth, trying to sneak his nose under the door.

"Hayate," Roy whispered. "Hayate, leave her alone. Come back. Hayate, here."

The dog briefly turned to look at him, whined, and reported his attention to the door.

That was a surprising behaviour from Hayate. But then again, if Riza acted like the one he knew, she usually would have kept the dog with her for the night, at the foot of her bed.

Roy got closer, sliding his fingers under the dog's collar, ready to yank him back. He didn't want to make a fuss, and didn't want Riza to wake up.

"What's wrong, boy? You need to–"
That's when he heard it.
That whimper didn't come from Hayate.
He let go of the dog’s collar and pressed his ear to the door.

What the fuck are you doing, Mustang? Trying to kiss her wasn’t enough, now you’re pushing into voyeurism?

He stepped back at once, feeling nauseous. He glanced at the dog, who was still anxiously looking and scraping at the door, and was ready to turn around when Riza screamed.

It was inarticulate at first, a bone wrenching scream of anguish, and it froze Roy into place. Then the scream stopped.

And it got worse.

“No! No! Colonel– no, he can’t– you can’t be–”

Roy pushed his horrified inner voice away, and opened the door at once. Hayate seeped in as soon as the door was open enough for him to pass, his collar making a scratching noise against the wood. Roy put the lights on, to see Hayate had jumped on the bed, but Riza was frantic, and pushed the dog away with another scream.

“Lieutenant?”
He would have called her Riza. But judging from how she reacted to him and what he felt like her relationship with his counterpart was – or rather, wasn’t – he thought it safer to go with her rank.
“Lieutenant. It’s okay.”

Riza turned glazed eyes, full of tears, towards him. Her expression was blank.

She was wearing a loose t-shirt as pajamas, the neckline low over her clavicles, her untied, tangled hair reaching a little lower. The scar in her neck, the one he’d glimpsed earlier, immediately drew Roy’s eyes. It was thick, wrapped around most of her neck. And recent.

Someone had tried to slice her throat.

No.

Someone did slice her throat.

A wave of red hot rage washed over him, making him stop in the middle of the room, painful hands balling into fists.

Calm down. You’re frightening her.

She was afraid, indeed. Roy painfully managed to bottle up his fury when he saw it in her eyes, and in the way she pushed herself on the bed towards the wall. He didn’t want her to be afraid of him. He offered his hands open, palm up, and used his lowest voice again.

“It’s okay. You just had a nightmare. You were screaming. But you’re home. Safe.”
“Sir, what are you– oh.”
It looked like she’d been slapped. Tears surged again in her eyes and she scowled, looking away. The traction of the muscles and tendons in her neck pulled on her scar, making it all the more visible.

There was no way she should have survived something like this.

But then again, who survived a bullet right to the head?

Roy turned his eyes away, too.
“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have–”
“Can you please turn off the lights again, sir?”
“Alright.” Roy turned towards the light switch, without looking at her. “Are you okay? I’ll be in the living room, if–”

“Stay. Please.”

Her voice was so thin, he could have missed it. The slight quavering. The self-hatred at the simple idea of asking this. The expectation, too. He switched the light off, leaving the door open to get some moonlight in from the living room windows, and turned back towards Riza.

“Are you sure you–”
“Don’t make me say it again.”

Roy walked the couple of steps that separated him from the bed, and sat on it, gingerly. Riza didn’t look at him, didn’t move, didn’t say anything. For what felt like an eternity, he just sat there, growing more and more awkward by the second, not knowing what he should — could — do. What he was allowed.
He could feel her sitting right next to him, so tense she was practically vibrating. Well, that made both of them.

So this Riza had nightmares. He didn’t remember that the other Riza on his side had those. After all, he'd have heard her through the walls, when he stayed at her place, at the very least. But if she did, he had never witnessed them, and he hoped they weren’t about him.
“Lieutenant, are you… Are you awake enough to know I’m not the one–”
“I am. I know.”
That timberless voice made his stomach sink. He couldn’t leave her like that. He couldn’t just stay there and–

He slid a hand around her, and pulled her gently to lay her head against his shoulder. She didn’t even stiffen, following with a sigh he couldn’t interpret, and rested her forehead there. His palm lay against her back, her warmth seeping through the thin fabric of her pajamas and into his hand. He brought his other hand to the crown of her hair, clumsily caressing her while trying not to pull on her tangled hair, and not to put too much intent into it.

Vertigo hit him when he realized she smelled exactly like her. Like the Riza from the other side. She fit exactly the same way against him. One of her hands rested on the mattress, but she had automatically slid her other arm around his neck, to anchor herself.

And the last time–

Her fingers curled against his nape, nails scraping, and she pressed her face deeper against his shoulder when she was taken by a series of hiccups.

Roy let her calm down, then whispered.
“Tell me.”
“Tell you what?” Her voice was thick, now.
“Whatever. What you feel like. Everything. The nightmare. Ishval. Everything you say will disappear with me. Soon. Isn’t it why you asked me to stay? Because I’m not him? Because this is not going to last?”
Riza’s hand on his nape trembled, tightened, and her nails dug deeper into Roy’s flesh. Of course, he was right. Now, maybe, he shouldn’t have said it. He started again, careful to make his voice as soft as he could, his hands gentle on her shoulders. “If you don’t want to say anything, don’t. Just know you can. I’m here.”
“There’s a lot I want to say, but–”
“Not to me. I get it.”

He didn’t know when his hand had started caressing her back, but he forced himself to stop, when he felt the raised edge of something that could only be a scar. A cold shiver ran down his spine. What had this Riza been through? What was it? Ishval? Something more recent, like the one on her neck?

Was it what he was supposed to know, what was on her back? But then, if they'd never– how would the other Roy know about those?

The questions burned his lips, but he swallowed them. He wouldn't pry. He was here to help her, comfort her. His curiosity could wait. And would probably never be satisfied.

He focused on Riza pressed against him, her warmth through her pajamas, her smell. Memories of his time in her place on the other side surfaced, blurry and warm. Riza pushing hair off his forehead, the tremor in her fingers. The way she took his hand, the look in her eyes. How it'd felt to undress her, after all these years being side by side and never allowing himself to even think about it.

Roy absentmindedly pulled Riza closer against him, still, and she followed, hooking both her arms around him. It's for her. She needs comfort. Don't read too much into it.

It was still a bad idea, even keeping these thoughts to himself. Having her so close was starting to have an effect on his body he’d rather not have her notice. It felt… inappropriate. He didn't want her to have the wrong ideas.

Roy started revising chess moves. It always helped. After a while, once he was confident nothing would transpire in his voice, he talked again.

“Well, you should.”
“I should what?”
“Tell him. Not me. Him.”
“He knows.”
“Are you sure? Because I think I learned some stuff while talking to you. At least I hope I did. And I thought I knew. And I don’t think you’ve told him.”
“You think you know a lot, don’t you?” There was a mix of bitterness and amusement in her tone.
“Well. For as different as you are from the Riza on my side, you’re also pretty close. And if it was me…”
“But it’s not you.”
“No. You wish it was, though. This I can tell.”
Riza finally pushed herself off his chest, to look at him with furious eyes. Roy went on before she could say anything.
“I wish you were her, too. Pour my heart out. Say I’m sorry. You were right, earlier, I’m feeling inadequate. I don’t deserve her. But somehow she seems to think I do. So." Lower, he added: "Well I hope she still thinks so. What I mean is, hah, maybe he's smarter than me, you know?"

Riza looked down, and to Roy's surprise, nudged her face in his neck.

She breathed in, then sighed.

"I've rarely been as close to him as we are, now. If I understand well, it's not exactly the case for you."
Roy immediately straightened, ill at ease. That was, more than he already was.
"Yeah. No. Riza is… uh. Persuasive." He felt he was not saying all he should. "She… she took care of me when I was injured, and… one thing leading to another… it wasn't –"
"I don't want to know." Riza chuckled on his shoulder, the surprising sound warming his very core. This Riza could still chuckle this way. It made him feel a little better about her. She went on.
"She took care of you, she put you in her bed, and you still think–"
"It's complicated."
"Sure is."
"Like you can talk."
He felt her shaking her head.
"I wasn't being sarcastic. I know it's complicated.

"You know, uh. You could have it, too."

There's a fine line between boldness and idiocy, Mustang, and you're a bad equilibrist.

"There's nothing between us."
"Yes there is. Not the same kind as between me and the other Riza. But don't tell me there's nothing."
"He's my superior officer."
"That's why you need to tell him."
"What? In his quality of–"
"No, not because your superior should know or whatever bullshit. Because he won't act until you make it clear that he can."

Riza pushed him away a little roughly. But he kept his hands on her arms, and she didn't shake him off.
"What makes you think I want to? What makes you think he does?"
"Please."
While his retort might be a little mean, he'd kept his voice soft. He smiled, the soft and sad smile he kept for her. On whichever side, now. "Wouldn't I be the one to know?"
Riza's body relaxed, but she looked down.
"The frat laws–"
"Laws are meant to be broken. If this guy can circumvent the laws of Alchemy, human laws mean nothing to him."
Riza looked up and stared. She might be a raw, severely uptight version of the woman he knew, and be hiding from him because he was a stranger, he thought he spotted something behind her undecipherable mask. Hope?
"You seem to have grown uncharacteristically fond of him, all at once."
"I trust my lieutenant. If you like him so much he might have some good parts," he shrugged, raising an eyebrow.
"You mean you hope it's the case on your side, too, don't you?"
Roy chuckled, hiding his wounded pride.
"That. Is a very Riza thing to say."

Riza had a small smile. She repressed a move, and just stood there, now sitting right next to him, but not touching him. Did she want to hug him again?

He didn't have much to lose, and opened his arms, raising an eyebrow again. Riza looked away, red blotches appearing on her cheeks. Roy wouldn't bet, but he was almost sure he saw the shine of new tears in her eyes.

She took his silent offer, and rested her head against his chest. A new wave of warmth took Roy, but he'd rather not prod it further. He was too busy trying to stop himself from kissing her hair.

"I'm happy to know she's around, with you."
She murmured against his chest, but didn't develop, though.
"I bet you're there for him, too."
"I try."
"I hope he's there for you."
"He is."
"See? Told you he was smarter than me."
She laughed.
"Now you sound just like him."
Roy pulled her a little closer, his palm pressing on her back, and closed his eyes.
Riza, too, sounded just like her. She also smelled just like her.

The ache in his chest grew deeper. He had to cross back, if only to apologize. He owed it to her.

After a while, Riza's breathing finally steadied. Roy was afraid she'd fall asleep against him. He could not have that. He pushed her, gently.
"Will you be okay?"
"Yes. I think so."
"Then I'll go."
Riza opened her mouth, then closed it and hummed instead. He let go of her, and walked back to the bedroom door.

"Thank you."
Roy nodded in response before closing the door behind him, not looking back, or he wasn't sure he would leave the room.

He found Hayate sulking on the sofa — the dog had fled after Riza had pushed him away. Roy gently pushed him down from the seat, and laid his head on the pillow, his arm thrown over his face.

She obviously wanted him to stay.

Well, not him. But yet. If this Riza, this weird, defiant, suspicious — broken — Riza almost wanted him to stay, then there was a sliver of hope that the other would have him back. Even after what he’d done.

He focused on the memory of the smell of her hair and tried to fall asleep, swearing to himself he’d smell that again. On the other side.

He'd made up his mind.

Amestris 1917

Everything was dark.
Everything was bright.
He was drowning.
He was floating.
He was freezing.
He was burning.

Where was he?

The end of life?

The end of death?

He couldn't breathe. There was no air. He tried to move. His body was numb. He struggled against the invisible pressure holding him down. It dragged him deeper and deeper into the scorching hot nothingness.

Roy.

A distant soothing voice called him.

Roy!

The echoes of the burning flames screamed.

What would he find if he followed the voices? The peaceful rest of death or the burden of life?

Roy Mustang!

A searing touch pulled him out.

He gasped and hit the ground.

"Hey, it's alright. I'm here. You're safe."

He panted for the air his lungs didn't have and looked around, frantically searching for the source of the voice in the middle of the moonless night. "Lieutenant?"

"Yes," Riza said softly. A hand ran down soothingly over his back. "It was just a nightmare, sir."

He let out a labored sigh and blinked back the silent tears that had welled up his eye. It was alright. Riza was there. She would keep him safe. She always had.

Fear gripped his throat when he couldn't find her comforting brown gaze in the darkness of the night.

"Lieutenant, the lights– Why is it so dark?" he was embarrassed to even ask. He sounded like a child afraid of the dark. The way he was behaving, he might as well be one.

"Ah. Wait." Her warmth left his side. He wanted to scream for her to come back. To not leave him alone in the dark.

It almost hurt when the lights came on.

Everything was suddenly too bright, and there was a moment of panic as he noticed the darkness of his left side. The realization of where he was — who he was with — hit him so hard he swayed backwards.

He wasn't home.

He wasn't safe.

This wasn't Riza.

"Sir?" Hawkeye asked with a hint of panic in her tone. Her hand was back on his back.

He swallowed past the knot in his throat, and dragged his numb body back onto the sofa. "I'm okay, Lieutenant. Sorry for disturbing you."

He expected her to leave him alone to lick at his wounded pride, but she didn't. She remained there, unmoving, looking at him with a small frown on her face. Roy recognized that look. It was the one she wore when she was ruminating her thoughts, debating on whether to act on her instincts or not. For a moment, he marveled that he knew Riza Hawkeye so well he could read even this unfamiliar version of her. That thought however was broken by her next question.

"Do you want me to stay?"

Roy blinked. Surely he must have misheard. Riza Hawkeye wasn't offering to sleep with him. Was she?

"I'm sorry? What was that?"

Hawkeye blushed, but her gaze became more determined. "Do you want me to stay? Here. With you. I don't mind sharing the sofa."

Roy choked in surprise. He had heard her right after all. That was exactly what she was offering. He'd never imagined he would hear those words come out of her mouth. Out of any Riza's mouth. The idea of her sleeping next to him, of holding her in her sleep, filled him with such a deep longing he lost his breath. He wanted it with an intensity that scared him.

"I–" He choked again as he tried to speak, this time on the tangle of feelings that filled his chest. "Yes, please."

She looked as relieved as he felt when she crossed the distance between the wall and the sofa. He moved to the side, hugging the backrest as best as he could. It would be a tight fit, but Roy didn't mind. No. On the contrary. The moment she pressed herself against him, he sighed in content. Her weight, her scent, her warmth, it was all familiar yet strange. He had never been this close to her, and yet her presence fit next to him like the missing part of a puzzle.

His arms instinctively moved to hold her, but he stopped himself mid motion. "Can I– can I hug you?"

Hawkeye sounded a little out of breath when she said "Yes."

She relaxed in his arms, and Roy found himself doing the same.

She was so warm. So real and alive. He felt tears in his eye again when he thought he could never do this with his own Riza. She would never allow it. He could never deserve it. Even this felt like a betrayal. To her. To their ideals. To the people he'd killed. He was unworthy of even this small reprieve, but he was too selfish to let it go.

He felt her move, and turn around to face him. He was surprised to feel her lips on his forehead and her hands on his hair, moving it away from his forehead. "It's okay. We'll get you home."

Her voice was so soft and kind. He ought to push her away, to put some needed distance between them. Instead he burrowed his face on her neck, taking the life line this familiar stranger was offering. He would have time to feel regret and embarrassment later. Now, he wanted to enjoy a brief and selfish reprieve in a world and body that didn't belong to him.

That was perhaps why he could do it.

No matter what happened he would have to leave it all behind. Leave her behind. He could be weak because he didn't owe it to her to be strong. Perhaps it was the same for her.

Neither of them said a word when their lips met. He wasn't sure who had moved first, and it didn't matter. The kiss was soft, just a fleeting touch of their lips that didn't last long enough to satisfy him. Still, her taste on his lips made him echo her own sight of contentment. It wasn't enough, but it fit the two of them just fine.

He nuzzled her neck and whispered a muted thanks against her skin.

This time he dreamt of dusty books and the distinctive smell of Riza's cooking.

Chapter Text

Amestris 1915

“Wake up, sir. It’s 5:30.” 

Riza was crouching in front of him, in the morning light. Roy had somehow half sled off the sofa while sleeping, almost returning to the position he’d had when Hayate had woken him up. His legs supported part of his weight on the floor, and the rest was down to his core muscles keeping him on the cushions. How in hell he'd ended up in this awful posture, he had no idea. There was some concern in Hawkeye’s warm brown eyes, and less defiance than the day before.  

“The scar in your side won’t like that. You’re lucky I kept painkillers from yesterday.” 

Yeah, the scar didn’t like that, at all. Roy extended his legs, trying to bring some feeling back into them, grunting when this simple move pulled at his side. He closed his eyes briefly under the pain, and when he opened them again, it was on Riza’s hand. 

“Need some help, maybe?” 

Roy winced. 

“Uh. Yeah.” He took Riza’s hand, ready to look at her sheepishly as she helped him back on his feet. But as soon as she started to pull on his arm and he followed, the pain got too intense, and he only managed to crush her fingers, causing immediate pain in his own mangled hands. He only barely registered that Riza had slid her other arm under his shoulder to prop him up on his feet properly. 

That move felt trained, he realized when she slid her arm off again once he was up, reeling. 

She’d had to do that before. 

Of course she did. 

“Thank you,” he gasped. 

She replied with a shrug. 
“Coffee?” 

“Yes. Please.” Roy was steadying his breath. “I take it–” 

“Black. I know.” 

“Of course.” 

Roy stayed up, walking gingerly around, the pain ebbing slowly but still throbbing in his side. He turned his back to Riza, and opened his crumpled shirt, tearing it off his pants to have a look at the scar. He had not thought about doing so when he’d been to the bathroom the day before. His mind had been elsewhere, and he probably didn’t want to see, either. 

He gasped again.
“What the fuck.” 

He heard Riza, in his back, stop what she was doing in the kitchen. But she didn’t come around to look. 

There was no question that the enormous scar on his side was a burn, and that it was fairly recent — less than a year, he’d bet. 

Also…

“Did he– did he do that to himself?” 

Roy felt the scar tissue with his fingertips — that wasn’t painful. Moreso, he almost couldn’t feel his own touch there. What caused pain was the tearing, and pulling inside. That scar ran deep. 

“Do you really want to know?” 
Riza had resumed her preparation.

Roy sighed. 
“I don’t know what’s worse, really.” 

“What?” 

He got a last look at the scar that disappeared under his waistband, and started closing his shirt again. 

That was definitely harder than opening it. Damn hands. 

“This. The side, the hands, or my eye and all the cuts.” 

“What cuts?” 

“Do you really want to know?” 
It was easier to talk to her with his back turned, just as it’d been easier during the night, with the lights off. 

“Is it painful?” 

“What?” 

“Your eye.” 

“Sometimes. My cheekbone was shattered. That’s what’s painful. I get headaches. The eye’s not there anymore, so…” 

“Yes. Maybe I don’t want to know.” 
It could have sounded rude, but Riza had said it in a very soft voice. Roy decided he had closed enough buttons — there were four or five left — and turned back to see her sitting at the kitchen table with a cup of coffee and a bowl of porridge. 
The same was waiting on the other side, two white pills next to the coffee mug. 

Roy sat and thanked her, and she even smiled at him. 

They ate in silence, but the quality of it was drastically different from the night before. If he allowed himself to, he could almost feel like he was on the other side, during that time when Riza had taken him in. This content calm, just enjoying each other's company, had been something he'd cherished, his anchor, when his life — and the country around them — he'd been turned upside down. He hoped he would experience this feeling of peace again. 

The only sad note was that there was no Hayate begging for food by the side of his chair. The dog was in his basket, polite as ever. Roy wondered if he was too well trained, or if he saw the other Roy just that scarcely, and was shy. 

Then his thoughts veered. 

"Lieutenant, if I may ask this of you…" 

"Yes?" 
Hawkeye looked up from her porridge,  her expression a little wary – understandable, considering his mishap from the night before. But Roy was certain his request was fairly harmless. 

"Could we visit the Hughes, in between helping around and meeting Fullmetal? I haven't seen them in ages, and I think… it's, hah, it's selfish, but, I mean, maybe having a little talk with Gracia here would ease me into coming back to see her, when I'm on my side. She'll probably roast me first and feed me pie next. And she'd be right. Not that I expect her to be any less…" 

Roy was used to Riza replying quickly, and cutting him from rambling. She didn't. She was looking at him with round, sad eyes. 

"But, sir, Brigadier General Hughes is–" 

"Dead, I know. Same for my side. Which is why I try — tried — to regularly visit his wife and kid." It was Roy's turn to be surprised. Surely, the perfect Roy on this side wouldn't oversee this? "You know. I mean the army pension is enough, and I wasn't here like every month, but I feel–"

"Sir. You've– I don't think he's ever even been there once." 

"What?" 

What kind of an arsehole was this guy? His best friend dies and he doesn't visit his wife and kid? Roy revised his image of his counterpart. He might really be as cold as he seemed to be. And to say he was the one Riza thought was a prick. 

Riza looked distressed. Like she didn't know what to answer. 

"He… I take him to the Brigadier General's grave regularly. He even leaves flowers at times. But he's never– I don't think he really wants to–" 

"But they're Maes' family!" 

"Brigadier General Hughes has never–" 

Riza looked away, and seemed to ponder what to say. Roy tried to smooth the crease he could feel on his forehead. He wasn't angry at her. He was angry at him. 

"Maes Hughes never invited him to his home. The Colonel wasn't invited to his wedding either." 

Roy was floored. He could only look at Riza with his eyes and mouth open. So in this world, he and Maes hadn't been friends? 

"They were close friends, this is certain. Maes Hughes' death had a serious effect on him. But I think the Colonel and the Brigadier General had a long time… disagreement. About…" 
Riza looked away again. 
"About what they could allow themselves to be, after Ishval. What they could allow themselves to live." 

She had a single, quick, and painful look at him. 

Roy's mouth closed, and his eyes, too. He sighed. It all clicked. Of course.

Maes had been to Ishval, too, and he and this Roy had fought over their right to live a fulfilling love life after the slaughter they'd been responsible for. 

Well. A little over two years ago, Roy would have agreed with his counterpart. 

Now… 

It was weird how Roy had felt inadequate, socially unadapted, while comparing himself to his double, at first. Yet now the more he scratched the surface, the more secluded and literally fucked up this guy seemed to be. 

And that thought came from the one who'd resigned his commission and fled to Briggs. 

To each their own awful coping skills, it seemed. 

Roy had an embarrassed smile, and got up, taking his own and Riza's dirty dishes to put them away in the sink — this didn't surprise her, or she didn't show it. The implied acceptance of intimacy there, her being seemingly used to it, was a small comfort to him. 

"Guess it might not be a terrific idea, then?" 

"I'm sorry. I'm not sure it'd be a nice experience for anyone involved." 

Touché. 

"Right. Well, we better get going and get me a shovel, then." 

Amestris 1917

Roy woke up, slowly coming out from a deep dream. He felt warm all over. In a nice but unfamiliar way. He tried to curl up, to keep this pleasant feeling with him for a bit longer. It was only then that he realized this comfortable warm weight was coming from someone else, from a person lying next to — on top of — him. 

The thought startled him. He hadn't shared a bed with anyone in years. He tried to move away in surprise only to realize there was nowhere to go. He was trapped between this person and something firm behind him. 

A hand caressed his back softly, as if trying to calm him, and someone said, "Good morning, sir."

Roy relaxed back against the sofa and closed his eye, remembering all that had transpired the previous night. He'd thought it was all a dream.  The nightmare he couldn't remember. Hawkeye comforting him. The kiss…  

His face heated up as he remembered it all. As if arguing with her hadn't been enough, he'd gone and showed her his unflattering side. The broken man that lay beneath the monster's skin.

What was it about Riza Hawkeye that he always managed to make a fool out of himself?

"Morning," he replied awkwardly. 

The hand on his back stopped moving. 

He looked down at her, curiosity winning over his embarrassment, and found her studying his face. Her lips curled up softly — almost imperceptibly so — when their eyes met. She had the same deep amber color as her counterpart. Her eyes looked so bright and warm under the morning light, almost as bright as her cascading blonde hair. 

She was… beautiful. 

"We should get up." Her voice cut through his thoughts. "We have to meet Lieutenant Colonel Armstrong in three hours."

"Ah, right." He cleared his throat. "Uh, we better hurry then." 

He watched in silence as she got up, immediately missing her warmth against him. It was only when she was gone that he realized she smelled just like the other Riza, too. It made his head spin, and his chest ached with something he could only describe as longing.

He suddenly wanted to see her — to touch her — so bad that it hurt. His Riza. The one whose broken edges fit perfectly against his own jagged soul. Not this terribly accurate but completely wrong mirror image of her. 

Roy rolled onto his back, and brought his hands to cover his face with a groan. 

What the hell was wrong with him? 

One small peck on the lips and he couldn't shut up his brain?

He was supposed to be better than this at keeping his feelings in check. He had no right to look at her that way. Not his Riza — and absolutely not this version of her. Not after he'd betrayed her trust, burned her back, and almost forced her to shoot him. He'd done enough harm to her for a lifetime. And yet there he was, kissing a Riza that didn't belong to him, thinking about how beautiful she was, and longing for the one he'd wronged so badly.  

"Are you okay, sir?"

He breathed out. 

Get a hold of yourself, Mustang. Put a lid on it. Bury those feelings where they can never be reached. Think of the blood on your hands. Remember the screams of the people you burned.

"Just a bit tired, Lieutenant." He stood from the couch. "Let me prepare breakfast for us. As a thank you for your hospitality." 

Hawkeye gave him a dubious look. "You can cook? I banned Roy from my kitchen."

His ears burned with embarrassment. He knew he wasn't the best cook, but he liked to think he wasn't so bad that he needed to be banned from it. "I think I can manage breakfast without killing us."

"Alright," she said with a hint of amusement.

Hayate's ears perked up the moment they passed by his spot. He was up and following Hawkeye the next moment. Roy occupied himself by getting the ingredients from the fridge while she filled Hayate's bowl.

"The pans are in the second cabinet to the left, and the bowls are in the first cabinet to the right."

"Thanks." He opened the first cabinet and spotted a familiar red mug on the upper shelf. He grabbed a bowl and closed the cabinet.

For a while the only sounds in the kitchen were those of Roy's cooking and Hayate eating. 

Roy paused whisking the eggs and put the bowl down on the countertop.

"I– uh," he started awkwardly. "I'm sorry about last night, Lieutenant. That wasn't proper of me."

"Why? Because you're a superior officer, or because I'm the wrong Riza Hawkeye?" Hawkeye asked, her tone not nearly as serious as her words. "It was a mutual kiss. Should I apologize too?"

"What- no!"

"Then there's nothing to apologize for."

Roy let out a chuckle and went back to preparing breakfast. Something told him he wasn't going to win that argument. Hawkeye, it seemed, could be as stubborn as Riza.

They ate the slightly burned — Roy had apologized about that by making a fresh pot of coffee — eggs and toast in silence. Hayate sat next to him with an expectant look all through the meal. As if he knew Roy would try to feed him some of his food. It was cute. But Roy was surprised Hawkeye allowed him to do that at all.

"Do you mind if we resume our conversation from dinner?" He asked when she stood and grabbed the empty plates. "I never got to ask you my question."

Hawkeye blinked at him. "Ah, you're right. I left before you had a chance. Sorry."

"Don't worry. I probably deserved that exit."

She smiled, accepting his terrible apology. "Go ahead."

Last night, he'd been wanting to ask her about how Roy had lost his eye. He was sure there was more there than Hawkeye was letting on. But right now, there was something more pressing burning his mind. 

Hayate following him to the bathroom. 

The perfectly fitting pajamas.

Roy being banned from the kitchen.

The familiar coffee mug in the cabinet.

"He used to live here, didn't he? Are the two of you…"

Hawkeye pressed her lips together and frowned. For a moment Roy thought she would refuse to answer. 

"I have not seen him in a month, and before that I hadn't seen him in almost a year. There's not much of anything between the two of us these days." She walked away to put the plates in the sink. "But yes, he stayed here after he lost his eye. He needed someone to take care of him while he recovered and I volunteered."

"Ah…" That was… surprising. Not that she had volunteered. That sounded just like Riza. Always worried about everyone but herself. The surprising part was that he'd agreed to stay with her and that the military had allowed it. 

Probably Grumman's doing. 

At least that explained the clothes and Hayate's overly familiar behavior. But… 

"Did the two of you… have you? Were you?"

Hawkeye's cheeks and neck turned bright red. "Just once… Right before he left."

Roy wanted to bang his head against the table. How big of a moron could the other him be? He got rid of Bradley, the parliament back in power, Ishval reconstructed, Riza in his bed, and his answer to all that was to give up his commission and fuck off to Briggs?

Damn it. That guy really pissed him off.

Hawkeye turned on the water tap and started doing the dishes. "You and your Riza haven't, have you?"

It was his turn to blush. "No. It's not like that between us." 

"But you wish it was."

Roy opened his mouth. There was no use denying it. Not after their kiss. "It's complicated."

"I'm sure it is," she replied, sounding slightly amused. "It's odd how close the two of you are in some aspects and how distant you are in others. I can't say I'm not jealous about some of it. My father's funeral would have been more bearable if you, if he, had been there."

Roy frowned. "Wait. He wasn't at Master's funeral?"

Who had taken care of all the arrangements then? Hawkeye all by herself? How had she managed? Berthold hadn't left his Riza enough money to last her the month, let alone cover his funeral. Roy paid for it all and arranged with the grocer for Riza to have enough food to last her a couple of months. The funeral had been a terrible affair even between the two of them. Roy couldn't imagine letting Riza go through that alone.

Hawkeye shook her head. "I am the one wondering how she got you there. Father banned Roy from visiting after he became a State Alchemist. He never forgave him for using his teaching that way. I didn't see him again until he recruited me into his team soon after Ishval."

"He– he learned flame alchemy before Master Hawkeye died?"

"You didn't? What– Then how did you?"

A small laugh escaped him, then another and another, until he was laughing hysterically.

It wasn't just Ishval. 

Hawkeye — this wonderfully similar but unfamiliar version of Riza — didn't have the tattoo, at all. 

No wonder Roy and her had gotten involved. He had never used his hands to inflict pain upon her. They didn't have that cross to bear. This disfigured cowardly version of himself wasn't even half the monster he was.

What did that say about him?

"Sir?" Hawkeye sounded worried. Even Hayate had left his side to hide behind her legs.

Roy stopped laughing and took a deep breath.

"Master Hawkeye left his alchemy behind with Riza. On her. He encrypted his secret in an alchemic tattoo on her back. It was Riza who entrusted it to me. It was Riza who made me the flame alchemist. And I repaid her trust by burning thousands of Ishvalans alive. She– she begged me to burn her back after the war."

There was a long silence after that. Neither of them looked at each other. Roy was fine with that. He didn't think he could manage to hold her gaze and see the distress in her eyes.

"I'm not so much surprised by the fact that he did that as I am by the fact that he entrusted her his research. I was under the impression he didn't like me much," Hawkeye said after a while. There was bitterness in her voice. 

If Roy hadn't been there… it was very likely Hawkeye had never heard Berthold's last words. They rarely interacted with each other outside of the necessary. He could almost see it, Hawkeye walking into his office with his dinner only to find her father long gone. 

"I don't agree with what he did. I don't think he had a right to put that burden on her. She was only a child." Roy would never understand what kind of madness had driven his master to do it. "But I think he loved her more than he ever showed. I… was with him when he died. His last words were of regret that he couldn't give you, Riza, more." Hawkeye's face softened the more he talked, her skin deep anger slowly transforming into something different. Into something that resembled grief. Roy could only hope his words would help her like they had helped Riza. "He asked me to take care of her in his dying breath. Not that it did any good. He would be horrified if he knew the things I've done. The things I've led her to do. She'd probably be better off if he'd asked me to stay away."

The corners of Hawkeye's lips twitched in displeasure and a small frown returned to her face. 

"You must think we have it much better here." He didn't answer that. And she probably didn't need him to. It must've been written all over his face. "Perhaps you're right. Maybe it was better that things happened this way. But at least she has you with her."

"As if that's worth anything."

He jumped on his seat, and Hayate scurried away back to his corner, when Hawkeye slammed her hands against the counter. Her voice was cold when she spoke next.

"I lost both my parents the day my mother died. No… more than that. I lost myself. Just like my father, I watched the days pass by without a care. The things I wanted. The things I dreamed of. They all got lost in the flow of time. I was so sure I would die alone in that old house."

Hawkeye took a deep breath. 

"Then, he came along. Full of drive and energy, talking about how he would protect people and use his alchemy for good. For the first time in my life I understood the meaning of hope…  He was everything I wasn't. And I wanted nothing more than to be like that. Like him. Full of dreams and goals. I followed him through hell and back because I'm the best version of myself at his side." Hawkeye finally looked at him with wild wet eyes full of pain and hurt. "Things might not have worked out the way I wanted. But I'd choose anything over the empty hell that were the days before we met."

Roy hadn't know that was how she felt. 

About herself. 

About him. 

He knew she cared about him. Perhaps even had feelings for him. He would never forget her crying for him under laboratory 3, or admitting she would kill herself after he died. But he'd always thought that came from her guilt over Ishval and her desire to help him fix the country.

After all, there was no fixing the monster you'd helped create if said monster was dead. 

Now, seeing the exposed broken pieces of Hawkeye's soul, he couldn't help but wonder if Riza felt the same. If that deep — almost incomprehensible — devotion she had, came from somewhere older than their shared guilt over Ishval. The ugly selfish side of him hoped so. Even if it meant Riza had gone through a kind of hell unknown to him. He couldn't help but wish to be something more than just a monster capable of redemption in her eyes.

"Don't ever say that you being there means nothing." Hawkeye wrapped an arm around herself as small tremors took a hold of her body.

"I'm sorry." Roy hesitated before taking a step forward. He didn't want to overstep again. Not now that he understood that the sadness in her eyes was due to Roy's absence. She would never find the reassurance she needed in his arms. Just like he wouldn't find the love and forgiveness he craved in hers.

Still he just couldn't do anything while Hawkeye crumbled in front of him. 

He opened his arms for her and hoped for the best. Instead of the rejection he expected, Hawkeye closed the distance between them and hugged him, hiding her face against his chest. She let out a soft sigh that sounded suspiciously like a sob. 

"I'm sorry for being such a fool. For not seeing you were hurting too. I swear I'll bring him back. And then you can smack him on the head for me if he ever tries to run away again."

She let out a wet laugh. "Thank you."

They stood there, hugging for another minute or two, until Hawkeye's breathing became even and deep. She put a hand on his chest and pushed him away softly. "For the record I don't think you are a monster, and I don't think she does either. She wouldn't be at your side if she thought that. So stop punishing the both of you for things she's already forgiven you for."

Roy gulped.

"It's not that simple. I– even if I wanted to, she has never shown any signs of wanting to pursue a relationship like that."

Hawkeye raised an eyebrow at him. "Have you?"

"Of course not! That wouldn't be proper. I'm her superior officer."

"Then how do you know she isn't just following your lead?"

Like she'd always done, she didn't say.

"I don't know," he admitted.

He'd always been so busy making sure they were following the right path that he'd never stopped to ask Riza if there was anything else she wanted. In fact he'd been too scared to ask her much of anything. Too fearful to hear she resented him for leading her into the army and making her an accomplice in mass murder. Even if deep down he knew she was too kind to ever think that.

Perhaps he and the other Roy weren't so dissimilar after all. 

They were both cowards at heart when Riza was involved.

"With all due respect, sir. Ask her. The answer might surprise you."

"Duly noted, Lieutenant." 

Hawkeye smiled at his answer and Roy found himself smiling back at her. 

She patted his shoulder before going back to doing the dishes. He liked how she was around him. There was a degree of intimacy he and Riza lacked — or rather one they actively avoided since Ishval. It reminded him of his days at the Hawkeye household. 

He'd missed it. 

The ease of being just Riza and Roy around each other instead of their ranks.

"Sorry for scaring you earlier, boy." He said, kneeling down to scratch Hayate. The dog immediately rolled on his back, tail happily wagging. All forgiven, then.

"Ah. Lieutenant, I do have a favor to ask. Do you think we have enough time to pass by the graveyard?"

Hawkeye gave him an understanding but sad look. "Of course. I'll let the Lieutenant Colonel know we'll be a bit late."

"Thanks, Lieutenant."

Chapter Text

Amestris 1917

"Your uniform, sir."

Roy looked from Hawkeye's face to the offered uniform, and then back at her again. There was something he couldn't grasp in her expression. Something that made her look suspiciously amused, almost mischievous.

"Um, thanks Lieutenant."
Roy narrowed his eyes and grabbed the uniform from her hands. His hesitancy only made the smile at the corner of her eyes more noticeable. He made his way to the bathroom, slowly and not without looking back at Hawkeye a couple times, which seemed to amuse her further.

Like the previous night Hayate followed him, but this time Roy allowed him to come inside. The small dog settled on one of the corners of the room with an ease and focus that could only be practiced. He had to wonder if Hawkeye had trained him to do that, perhaps to keep an eye on Roy during the early days of his recovery there. That sounded like something his Riza would do.

He put the uniform on top of the toilet and gave it one last suspicious look. "I wonder what she's up to."

It was only when he unfolded the jacket that he realized why Hawkeye had been so amused. It was his — or rather the other Roy's old — uniform. The one with the three stripes and stars that designated him as a Colonel.

Roy changed into it, faster than he had in the month since Bradley had pierced his hands — oh, how he would miss the lack of pain in his hands — and looked at his reflection in the mirror. From there, with the eyepatch partially hidden by his hair and the angle of the reflection, he almost looked like himself. It was silly, but it made him feel a bit more grounded and in control. It eased some of the nervous energy that had been accumulating beneath his skin since he arrived in this odd place and time.

He beamed at Hayate.

"Looking good, huh?" The dog wagged his tail happily in reply and Roy kneeled down to pet him. "Come on, let's not keep her waiting."

Outside, Hawkeye was already waiting for him in her own uniform.

"I'm ready, Lieutenant."

Hawkeye looked him up and down — not so subtly — with a gaze that almost made him blush under his collar. She took a step towards him and without warning grabbed something from his jacket. She showed him the small ball of black fur, before letting it go and patting his chest softly.

"Now you are ready."

Roy gulped nervously, still not used to how much more forward Hawkeye was compared to Riza. It wasn't unwelcomed per se, but it was definitely unnerving. "T– thanks."

"Should we get going then?"

Roy nodded, and Hawkeye opened the door to the apartment. He was about to follow her out when he turned around to face Hayate with a salute. "Keep up the good work, Second Lieutenant."

Hayate cocked his head and barked.

It wasn't until they had made their way back to the car that Hawkeye asked, "Second Lieutenant?"

"He was very helpful tracking the Homunculi for us," he explained with a shrug.

"And you gave him an unofficial promotion for it. I imagine Master Sergeant Fuery wasn't as happy to be ranked below the dog."

"He might have complained about it."

Hawkeye's soft laugh warmed him all the way to the graveyard.

The graveyard looked just like Roy remembered, from the eerie black iron gates to the old lady selling flowers next to it. It hit him then. The absurdity of the situation. He was visiting a man he'd never met. A man who he knew almost nothing about. This wasn't his best friend any more than Hawkeye was his Lieutenant.

What was he supposed to tell him then?

"Is everything okay, sir?" Hawkeye asked a moment or two after she had killed the engine. She was frowning at him again.

"Um, yes. Sorry. Just got distracted." Roy rubbed his sweaty hands against his trousers and opened the door. There was no use second guessing himself now, not after he'd made Hawkeye drive him all the way there.

He hadn't taken two steps away from the car when he noticed Hawkeye wasn't following.

It was his turn to look at her with a frown.

"Aren't you coming?" he asked, opening the driver's door for her.

Hawkeye seemed surprised by that, and she hesitated for a moment before stepping out of the car. Roy raised a silent eyebrow at her odd behavior.

"I thought you might want some time alone," she finally admitted, not quite looking his way.

So this was one of those things the other Roy didn't share with her.

It struck him as odd. His Riza and Hughes had never been particularly close, but Riza had always been a grounding presence next to him whenever he visited Hughes' grave. She was his tether to reality. A reminder not to let himself be lost among his ghosts. He hadn't expected this to be one of those places where he was closer to his Riza.

He didn't know what to make of it.

"I'd rather use the company, if you don't mind." Roy scratched the back of his head bashfully. "I… it's not like I ever met the man. It just felt wrong to leave without at least saying hi to him."

Hawkeye's expression softened into a smile. "I'm sure Brigadier General Hughes would be happy to have Roy Mustang, any version of him, visit. But I'd gladly accompany you."

Roy let out a small relieved sigh. "Thanks."

He walked down a familiar path to an equally familiar grave with an arm full of flowers and an uneasy feeling in his gut. For all its familiarity there was something amiss in the graveyard. Whether it was the trees, the graves, or even the wind, he couldn't tell. Perhaps it was just him. The one true thing that would never belong on this side of the Gate.

Roy pushed those thoughts aside as he came to a halt in front of the grave. The name and date engraved in the tombstone were at least the same. He kneeled down and replaced the withering white flowers with the fresh batch of poppies in his arms. He took a moment to run a finger over the engraving on the stone, mulling over what to say before he stood up.

He'd never been the talkative one between the two of them.

"Sorry, Hughes. I only have flowers for you today. I would've brought us something to drink, but I doubt the Lieutenant would've allowed it." He gave Hawkeye a playful side glance.

"I wouldn't," she confirmed, her tone not as serious as her expression.

"See? You'll have to demand alcohol from the other Roy once he's back. Ah, I should've started by saying I'm not, um, this world's Roy Mustang. The dumbass you called friend ended up switching places with me. Now we're both stuck on each other's side of the Gate." Roy chuckled for himself. "But I bet that doesn't surprise you. My Hughes used to say I have a talent for finding myself in and out of trouble."

If only Hughes had shared his talent for getting out of it…

"I do hope the 'out' part still stands true. I'd rather not be stuck here forever…" He looked back at Hawkeye. "No offense."

"None taken."

Of course not.

Out of everyone Hawkeye was probably the one who wanted him gone the most. She was — even now, after everything he'd done — waiting for the Roy who had left her behind. The damned idiot. The thought alone made Roy want to drag his counterpart back to this side of the door so he could apologize to Hawkeye properly.

"I'll fight Truth for it if I have to," he muttered to himself.

"What was that, sir?"

"Nothing, Lieutenant." He adjusted his jacket and turned around. "Let's get going. I don't want to make Lieutenant Colonel Armstrong and Miss Rockbell wait for long."

They walked back in silence.

It wouldn't be long now before he crossed the Gate again. Roy would be lying if he said he wasn't nervous about it. The possibility of ending up somewhere else — somewhere hostile and without alchemy — turned his stomach into a knot.

Still, he was confident he got the theory behind the transmutation right.

All he needed now was for his counterpart to get in position so they could swap back. And while he didn't trust the other Roy to help, he trusted that Riza would figure it out and drag him back to the circle, tied down if needed. If everything went as planned he would be receiving a well deserved lecture from his Riza in a matter of hours. If not… Well… he was better off not thinking about it.

"Isn't that–?" Hawkeye asked suddenly, so low Roy almost missed it.

He looked up ahead, curious to see what had gotten Hawkeye's attention, only for his stomach to drop to his feet. Walking their way were two familiar figures: Gracia and Elicia Hughes.

"It's been a while, Roy," Gracia greeted him with a smile, coming to a stop just a few steps away from him. "It's so good to see you. You as well, Lieutenant Hawkeye."

Roy blinked at her, unsure of how to proceed. He could count on one hand the amount of times he had talked to Gracia Hughes. Should he tell her he wasn't who she thought? His Hughes wouldn't have liked that. He'd always made it known he preferred Gracia to know as little as possible about their military affairs. Still he wasn't confident he knew enough about this Roy, or Gracia for that matter, to fool her.

He threw a quick glance at Hawkeye, all but begging for some help. The First Lieutenant just returned his look with her trademark impassive expression.

No help from her then.

"Uh, good morning, Mrs. Hughes."

Gracia huffed and waved a hand. "What have I told you? It's just Gracia."

Strike one.

Get your game together Mustang.

"I'm sorry, um, Gracia. You know how hard it is to beat old habits. It's good to see you too, my lady."

"Always the charmer." She looked down at the old bouquet of flowers in his arms and smiled. "I suspected you were the one bringing new flowers. Thank you, they liven up the place."

It felt wrong to be thanked by her. He might not have been directly responsible for Hughes' death, but that didn't change the fact he'd failed to keep his promise — to Hughes and to himself. He'd let another of his subordinates die under his command. There would never not be a part of himself that felt like he could've done more to save his best friend. "It's the least I can do."

Gracia observed him for a moment, her expression filling with sadness the longer she looked at him. "He was lucky to have such a caring friend."

Roy swallowed past the sudden knot in his throat. "Gracia, I–"

What could he say to that?

She was wrong. So so wrong. Roy had only made it so far thanks to Hughes. If there was anyone who could call himself lucky it was him. He was the one who should be thankful for ever having a friend like him.

Whatever Roy meant to say next got lost to Gracia's sudden, "Oh, come say hi Elicia." She pushed the little girl — who was older than Roy had ever seen her — forward. "Don't you remember him? It's Roy, from the photographs."

Elicia looked at him with a small frown as if looking for something on his face. "You look different. Are you a pirate now?"

"Elicia!" Gracia said, horrified by her daughter's remark. Roy heard Hawkeye chuckle behind him. The traitor!

"Uh, I, no. You see… I–"

These two were definitely Hughes's daughter and wife. Roy couldn't remember the last time he'd been caught this off guard.

"He looks just like a pirate, doesn't he?" Hawkeye asked, saving him from whatever dumb explanation he was about to blurt out. She kneeled in front of the little girl and ruffled her hair. "Do you know why he has to wear an eyepatch?" Elicia shook her head. "Because he hurt his eye. It protects the scar."

Elicia squinted her eyes at him. "Does it hurt?"

"Sometimes."

"Can I see it?"

Gracia rubbed the bridge of her nose. "Elicia–"

"It's okay." Roy covered half his face with his hand, pretending to take off his patch only to stick his tongue out at her. "Gotcha."

Elicia giggled. "You're silly."

Gracia gave him a grateful smile before she grabbed her daughter's hand. "Elicia, didn't you want to tell your dad about your dance recital?"

The little girl's eyes lightened up, and she pulled at her mom's hand. "Yes! Let's go! I need to show him my new dress."

"I'm going. I'm going." Gracia turned to them again. "Please come visit us again. I'm sure Elicia will be happy to hear more of your stories."

"I– I'll try to visit soon."

Gracia nodded at him one last time and let her daughter drag her towards her late husband's grave. Roy watched them in silence, an unfamiliar feeling burning in his chest. He waved back when Elicia turned around to say bye.

"She's turning out to be a lot like her father," Hawkeye commented after a moment.

"If by that you mean nosy, then yes."

Hawkeye chuckled. "You know, I don't think I've ever seen you so lost for words."

Roy sighed.

Of course she noticed how uncomfortable he was.

"People can be surprisingly scary."

"Scarier than ghosts, wasn't it?" Hawkeye said in a somewhat nostalgic tone.

"Huh?"

She shook her head and resumed her way back to the car. "In my experience, the true scary things are the stories we tell ourselves. People are seldom as scary as they seem."

Was that her way of telling him to stop running away?

Not that avoiding the Hughes family had been entirely his choice. It was more of a mutual understanding between him and Hughes. He didn't know if Gracia had any interest in interacting with him, but he doubted talking to her on the other side would go as smoothly as it had there.

Still, her last words had struck a chord inside him.

Very few people had known Hughes like Roy, and most of them were also part of the military. If Elicia ever wanted to get to know her father — the man beneath the mask of the perfect husband — there wouldn't be many she could turn to. Whether she ever wanted to know him that way or not wasn't his — and frankly not anyone's — business. But perhaps, he owed it to Hughes and her to at least give her the choice.

"Is this how you convinced my counterpart to visit Gracia and Elicia?"

Hawkeye narrowed her eyes at him. "Are you admitting you don't visit them?"

Roy looked away. "I don't. Although that wasn't entirely my decision. There were things Hughes and I couldn't agree on after all we saw in Ishval. Family was one of them."

Hawkeye opened her mouth in surprise then closed it. After a moment she said barely above a whisper, "Your Hughes… he was in Ishval too."

Roy's eyes widened in realization: their Hughes had also avoided the war.

That idea was so absurd Roy hadn't even considered it possible. This last piece of the puzzle that was this world's Roy Mustang all but turned the image he had of everything upside down.

How had Hughes managed to avoid that fate? Why had he followed Roy then? He couldn't imagine a way for Hughes to pledge himself to his cause without them both going through Ishval first. Or even a way in which he survived Ishval without Hughes pushing him forward. It was such an indispensable part of who he was, of his raison d'être, that the idea of a world where Hughes hadn't been at his side through that hell was incomprehensible.

Just… how had Roy managed?

"Sir?"

"Hm?"

"Are you alright?"

"Yes…" Just having a mild identity crisis. "I'm sorry, Lieutenant. It's nothing. Let's… let's just keep going."

Hawkeye didn't look very convinced by his answer, but ever the perfect soldier she continued following him in silence.

Perhaps the other Roy wasn't the coward he'd thought. God knew he would have eaten a bullet in Ishval without Hughes.

Amestris 1915

Roy watched the streets of Central go by through the car window.

Now that he actually wanted to go back, now that he'd found a drive — one that had always been there, of course, but he'd been too dumb to see — he had doubts about how it would work. His counterpart had clapped to activate the circle. Roy couldn't. He was too weak, all things compared. And he had not used alchemy for too long to be sure of his few abilities anymore.

To say most people thought of him as an arrogant punk.

As it'd been for the last two years, he'd let himself be dragged around by the events around him, without doing anything, a spectator of his own life. The only decisions he'd made had been to run away from everything.

But they didn't need him anymore.

Right?

He pressed his fingertips to his forehead, his hand over his eyes.

But he had to go back. Face his guilt. Find a way to be useful again. Apologize to Riza, there.

"Sir?"
"Mh?" Roy looked at Riza, the other one, through his fingers.
"I just asked you if you were okay."
"Oh, yes, Lieutenant. I'm positively all fired up!"
She sighed.
"You're tense, sir."
"Am I?" He folded his arms. Riza didn't reply. Roy was ready to go back to his ruminations, until he thought better.

You want to apologize, to be earnest, Mustang? Start now.

He kept his stare on the landscape.
"I will admit to you I am not entirely sure that this thing will work out."
"You're afraid."
Roy shrugged and sighed.
“My counterpart here can clap. I can’t. It seems to have been the trigger to activate the circle. If it doesn’t work from the other side, I–”
“He’s doing everything to come back here. That I know.”

Roy glanced at her from the corner of his eyes. If he didn’t know better, he could have taken this as a thinly veiled reproach.

“Besides,” Riza went on, “you’re both incredibly skilled alchemists. I trust you will find a way to make this circle work, either by yourself, or with the help of Edward.”
“Was. I can’t talk about him, but I haven’t used alchemy much for the last two years.”

The car stopped at a traffic light a little harder than Riza’s smooth driving usually allowed.
“What do you mean?” She turned to him, then quickly turned back. “Sir.”
“I mean after all that happened, and considering all the evil it — I — had brought into the world, I gave up on it. I’m not a state alchemist anymore. I resigned my commission, and went to Briggs, an inconspicuous corporal manning a remote outpost. That was the last place I found information on Fullmetal’s whereabouts, so I stayed there.” Roy risked a look away from the window, to see Riza staring at him.

Was it horror? Disgust? Something else?

Did he just lose his sole ally, one he had earned the hard way?

“The light is green, Lieutenant.”
There was a misfiring in the engine when Riza set it in motion, but it quickly went back to normal.

The ride was again silent, all the way until she parked the car, not far from HQ. Roy motionned to open his door, but he refrained from it when she asked him.

“Why? Why would you do that?”
Roy sighed. Did he have to tell her? And what to say?
He looked at his hands, folded between his knees.
“When I came to, everything had started taking place without me. I was bedridden for a while, then had to get back on my feet. It took time and focus. I was no use to anyone, and things kept going on outside, leaving me behind. But everything went by smoothly. They didn’t need me. So I figured–”
“But your goal? Your dream of–”
“If you’re referring to your Roy wanting to get to Fuhrer, yeah, I had that dream, too, so we could bring back the parliament. But I killed Bradley, and then the parliament was reinstated. That was enough. I did my part, the part of a soldier. Dreaming further was inconsequential, and useless. It wasn’t the position I wanted but the power to push change. Change happened. And I got what I deserved.” He absentmindedly let his fingertips rise and touch the soft skin under his left eye, then shook himself and folded his arms.

“That’s nonsense.” Somehow, he felt that on his side, Riza would have used a stronger word. Bullshit, probably. “That’s nonsense and you know it. You just… ran away… from… everything. You can’t…” It was Riza’s turn to press her hands on her forehead, eyes screwed shut. “You can’t just give up like that. What are you going to do when you come back, then? Run back to Briggs?”
“I have no idea.”
“You got rid of the homunculi. You got a parliament. And what happened when you were getting back on your feet? Did everyone leave you? Were you alone?”
Roy felt warmth creep up his neck.
“No.” Should he tell her? “No, I wasn’t. I didn’t– I’m not trying to say it was a good choice. It was simply the most logical when–”
“You said she followed you.”
Roy didn’t know what to answer, so he stayed silent.
“She followed you, even if she doesn’t bear what I have to, even if she didn’t have to go through hell like I did. That’s what you said.”
“Yes.”
“What did she do, then? You said you were out. Out, where? Had you already pushed her away?”
“No. She… She stayed with me.”
He didn’t want to elaborate. He didn’t want her to know that Riza had nursed him back to health, patiently, lovingly, even, for if she knew, she would think even worse of him. And she would be right. But if he was going to leave, he’d rather leave this version of Riza without that much of an awful image of him.

“Your dream is not only yours. As soon as you’ve started sharing it with people around you, it has stopped being personal. It has become someone else’s. It has become a goal, a reason to keep going, for many. You know that, right? Even Brigadier General Hughes, for all his mocking of your idealism, did everything to try and help you. And that’s how you repay him?”

And that’s how you repay her?

Roy looked at his hands. The other Roy’s hands. Mangled, scarred, numb and clumsy. He’d always been pretty nimble-fingered.

“The Colonel keeps on going. He kept moving forward even when he was injured, blinded. He kept planning and thinking ahead. He never quits.”
“Well, I’m not him.”
“No, you’re not. But you better try to emulate that part of him.”
“Lieutenant, you don’t know–”
“I know more about quitting than you think I do. Or are we going to have the same conversation as yesterday, then, sir?”
“No.” A bitter taste clutched at his throat. Whatever he said or did, it always turned out to be the wrong choice. “No, I– I’m just nervous, okay? What if it all comes down to me being unable to clap? What if it doesn’t work? What if we’re stuck? What happens, then?”
“You won’t be struck.”

Oddly enough, while his little burst seemed to have weirded her out at first — of course, perfect Roy didn’t do that, did he? — Riza seemed to have found some calm.
It calmed him, too.
“You seem awfully sure of yourself, lieutenant.”
“I am. Because I trust you.”
“I am not–”
“I trust you both.”
She looked at him, and exited the car. Roy swallowed whatever reply he could have had and followed.

Chapter Text

Amestris 1917

Winry and Alex were already waiting for them when they arrived. Winry was sitting on some rocks, holding to her chest a notebook, while Alex stood at her side, unusually quiet and with his eyes on the broken circle. 

"Sorry to keep you waiting," Roy said for a greeting, making them both look up at him in surprise.

"Never apologize for paying respect to the dead," Armstrong said, putting a hand on Roy's shoulder with tears in his eyes. "How heartwarming it is to know friendship can transcend worlds."

"Uh, sure." Roy stepped to the side, shaking off Armstrong's hand from his shoulder. He'd never been good at dealing with Alex's overly emotional speeches. That was true even on this side of the door.

"That uniform…" Winry said suddenly.

Roy smiled at her proudly. "The Lieutenant was kind enough to get it for me. At least I get to wear my proper rank before leaving." 

"It suits you." Winry smiled and gave Hawkeye a look that had Roy wondering if she knew about Hawkeye's and his counterpart's… complicated relationship. He hoped not. He was already having a hard time wrapping his head around it without thinking about what others may think of it all.

Roy cleared his throat.

"Has anything happened?"

Armstrong's lips turned down into a small frown. "No, nothing from the other side."

"I see." They were yet to receive any signal from the other side, and it was beginning to worry him. They shouldn't have so much trouble figuring it out. Not with the help of Fullmetal there. The only reason he could think of for the delay on the other side was that the other Roy was refusing to cooperate. 

He glanced at Hawkeye who, despite her best effort to appear unmoved, looked very nervous to his eye. 

He really hoped that asshole wasn't trying to run away again.

"Colonel," Winry said, offering him the notebook she was holding. "I brought you Alphonse's notes."

Roy's eye shined with excitement "Thank you, Miss Rockbell."

The notebook was filled with drawings of strange machines and places, as well as alchemical notes and runes. Roy saw it almost as soon as he opened the notebook, how different the principles of alchemy were between their two worlds. It wasn't indecipherable, but the notes Alphonse had written weren't something anyone would think to use on his side of the Gate. It looked as strange to him as alkahestry. 

"Fascinating," he murmured.

"Do you see anything useful?" Hawkeye asked.

"Perhaps. Do you have a pen, Lieutenant?"

"I do." Ever trustworthy, Hawkeye got a pen from her jacket and passed it to him.

Roy sat down on the floor and started to write down his own notes. He probably didn't have enough time to come up with a working theory to cross between worlds, but he could leave behind something for the other Roy to work with. A little help for him to maybe rescue the brothers. 

The others watched in silence as he worked through the notes. Armstrong made small surprised sounds any time Roy wrote down something interesting, but other than that the only sound there was that of the pen against the paper. He wasn't sure how long it was until a small tremor took hold of the ruins and the broken circle illuminated with a blue pale light for a moment before it all stopped.

Roy smirked. 

Took them long enough.

"It seems I'm out of time." He closed the notebook and offered it to Winry. "It's not much but the other me might be able to figure something out from it. From what I understood of these notes, I do believe there should be a safe way to open the Gate again and rescue the brothers. Don't lose hope."

"Thank you, I–" Winry swallowed. "Thank you so much."

"Don't mention it." He turned to a smiling Hawkeye and Armstrong. "This is goodbye then."

Hawkeye's smile vanished and she nodded slowly, as if hesitating. "Thank you, and please… think of what I told you."

Roy sighed. "I'll try, but I don't make any promises."

Hawkeye smiled, her expression turning so caring it surprised him "That's all I ask. Please take care."

He nodded, feeling his cheeks heat up, and turned to Armstrong. "Lieutenant Colonel."

Armstrong saluted him. "Best of luck, sir." 

That was it then.

Roy clapped and slowly placed his hands on the ground to activate the circle.

Amestris 1915

They were late. No shoveling for Roy — they had to hurry through the tunnels. At least that was a relief. He didn’t think shoveling with his mangled side was a good idea.  

They met Fullmetal and Alex Armstrong directly where the circle was, this time.
Edward was pouting, and Armstrong was twirling his moustache, both looking down at the old markings on the floor. 

That didn't promise anything good. But at least, contrary to the day before, Riza was on Roy's side. They'd reached a truce, or rather, a common understanding. Roy glanced at her, and she winced. 

"So? No progress?" 
Edward threw a crumpled piece of paper at him. 
"No shit, Colonel Nothing. This array doesn't make sense. I'm suspecting your memory's taken a hit when you crossed. Are you sure you're not just our Colonel, and you traded a piece of your brain to do whatever?" 

Roy only scowled and rolled his eyes. Typical Fullmetal. Some things didn't change much from world to world.  

"No, Edward." Both Edward and Roy turned towards Riza. "He's not. I can tell." 
Fullmetal sneered. 
"You're lucky you got the Lieutenant on your side." 
"Maybe," Alex offered, still obviously deep in thought, "maybe we should just try and activate it." 

Here they were. 

"But how? I can't clap." 
"Just like a regular transmutation circle." 
"None of us knows exactly what this array means," Edward dismissed. 

But Roy got it. He was so focused on the clapping part that he had forgotten the circle was weird for them — not for himself. 

"None of you. From what I understand, your alchemy is slightly different from mine."
"Oh, so you had a revelation last night, maybe?' 
"No, but… uh, let me try what I know best, see if maybe I can get back into regular alchemy." 

Roy pulled the gloves Riza had returned to him from his pocket, put them on, and snapped tentatively. His fingers let out a small scratching sound, the texture of the ignition fabric rough against his fingertips. It was grounding. Not especially a good feeling, as the taste of smoke and burnt skin immediately caught the back of his throat, but something he knew how to deal with, how to use. The small flame he was expecting appeared in front of his face, to disappear almost immediately. 

It worked. Nothing different. It was reassuring. But maybe he should try bigger just in case – 

"Wow, the Flame Alchemist has produced a flame! Mark this down to– OUCH! What the fuck, arsehole!?" 
"Sorry, Fullmetal. I miscalculated," Roy tried not to grin while Edward hurriedly snuffed out the embers at the tip of his ponytail. "Depth perception, you know." 
"No, I don't, you moron, what the fuck! Take these gloves off, I can still kick your arse!" 
"No one is going to kick anyone," Riza sternly stated while Armstrong pulled Edward back by the collar. "I do hope it was really a mishap, sir," she added, looking cross. 
"Yeah, it was. Sorry, Fullmetal." Roy winced, then winked at him. "Still funny, though." 
"I'm going to–" 
"Is your alchemy working the way you expect it to, sir?" 
"Yes." 
"Then please try it on the transmutation circle before Edward escapes Major Armstrong's arms." 

Oh, she was fed up. 

Good job, Mustang, you've just lost your new ally again. What did you need to laugh for? 

"Yeah." He cleared his throat. "Right. Trying. Everyone out of the circle." 
 
Roy kneeled as gracefully as he could — not gracefully at all, that was — with a groan and placed his hands on the circle after one last big sigh. 

And did as he had done since he was a teenager. One who would eventually travel yet more to the East to study under a recluse man, and meet his daughter. This had been true for two worlds among an infinity of them. How weird life was. 

Yet nothing happened. Again. Roy would have thought he'd lost his alchemy, too, like Edward had, if he'd not tried the flames just earlier. 

His fingers curled against the cold stones, nails scraping dust. He was stuck there. 

Boots got close to him. Riza was offering him a hand to help him get up, and he took it. 

He was barely on his feet when the ground shook, slightly, at first, then more. The circle right in front of them glowed purple. 
"Did you do that, Colonel?" Edward called from the other side of the array. 
"Nope," Roy laughed, then turned to Riza. "But I think it's my call. Hawkeye, I—" 

There were a lot of things he wanted to say and ask and he realized maybe they hadn't talked enough. He asked her the first thing that came to his mind. 

"Tell me what's on your back. In case it happens again." 
Riza blinked in surprise, then pushed him into the circle. Just before she disappeared in a white flash — or rather before he did — he could make out her answer. 
"A tattoo. And burns." 

Time for him to find himself in that white immensity yet again, he had processed her last words, like a bucket of ice cold water thrown in his face. 

Burns. 

Burns.

Behind the Gate 

Roy was standing in the middle of nowhere again. In front of him stood… himself. The one he was on the other side of the Gate, the one who was missing an eye. His missing eye. He looked at the other Roy in his own body, first surprised, but he quickly got back on his feet. The last thing he’d heard was still ringing in his ears. 
"You! It's you, right? What did you do to Riza?”

"What did I–?" Roy started, first surprised to see his reflection talking to him, and then confused by the accusation. "What did you do, you asshole! How dare you sleep with her and then run away!"

"Is that worse? Is that worse than burning her fucking back? I might have ran, I might be a coward, but you're a fucking dangerous maniac! You burned her! You burned Riza, when you should have protected her! What the hell is wrong with you?" 
Roy blinked away tears of fury, hoping the other didn’t catch them. 

Roy took a step back in shock. "She showed you?"

Roy’s body calmed down, but his tone got colder. 
"No. But she told me. That's the last thing she said to me before I got dragged back here." He nodded around. "Why on earth would you do this to her? How could you ever raise your hand–"

Roy looked away for a moment, but then looked back at his double with his eye as cold as the other’s tone. 
"Then I have nothing to tell you. Hit me if you want, but the one person who can answer your questions isn't here."
If Riza hadn't told him the full story, there was no reason he should.

Roy balled his hands into fists, grinding his teeth, and not only because of the pain it caused. Riza's last words. A tattoo. And burns. He didn't really need to think long to add two and two together. He spoke through his clenched teeth 
"She talked about a tattoo. She didn't have the time — that's what you burnt, right?"

"That's none of your business!" Roy snapped, tired of this man who knew nothing about Riza's burden judging them. "Instead of worrying about us you should be thinking of the Riza you abandoned for a year. Do you know she still has your clothes? Do you have any idea how lonely she feels?"

Roy didn't need him to bring that up. He knew how awful he'd been. But the clothes — the clothes  — it was —
"Oh, so. You burning the one on your side is none of my business, but me running away from the one I know is yours? You think I don't feel bad about it? Fuck, you think I–" He shook his head, closed his eyes. "Nevermind. You know what, you're right. Her business. Not mine, not yours. Hers. Just as I probably shouldn't have learnt about Riza on my side keeping my clothes."

"It became my business the moment I promised her I would bring you back!" Roy sighed and rubbed the bridge of his nose. "Just– you're right. I am a monster. And perhaps it's none of my business, but I know what it's like to betray her and hurt her so badly you want to die for it. I know what it feels like to want to run away. But she's waiting for you, just like I'm sure my Riza is waiting for me, and they'll continue waiting no matter how much we push them away. God knows why but they will. So for once just– just hear her. She– they both deserve that much."

Roy stayed silent. He wasn't expecting this Roy — the strong, cold one, to react this way. Maybe the image he'd built of him from what he learnt there was wrong — and who was to blame? Roy himself knew perfectly that what he projected towards others was a crafted mask. One that fell when he fled. He looked at him. Or rather, at his own body. He'd not noticed he looked so... Sunken, before. And he was right. He was so right. 
"She is." Roy looked down. "She is waiting for you. She..." He cleared his throat. How to bring that up without sounding absolutely awful? "She needs you. You should... Okay, not my place, but... You're right. I'll come back and apologize, and whatever she wants of me, even for me to leave, I'll listen to her. But you– you need to... Give her... More."

Roy narrowed his eye at his counterpart. 
"The Lieutenant is perfectly capable of asking for anything she needs." 
But you have never asked her what she needed. You just strung her along because it was convenient. Who is the coward now?

Roy fought really hard not to roll his eyes. Damn was he an idiot. As if he had not heard that a thousand times himself. 
"If you don't do anything to let her think there's something to ask for, she won't, you know. And yet." 
Roy shrugged. He thought about Riza. His Riza. Taking his hand. Hell, he missed her.

Roy felt like he was having a repetition of his conversation with Hawkeye. She'd mentioned he was a lot like the other Roy, but if anything it was the two of them who were standing on the same side of this issue. "Don't confuse us with you. I've never refused what she needed from me." 
Even if it meant hurting her. 
Even if it meant letting her die.
"She knows she only needs to ask."

Roy groaned, then scoffed. "Yeah, right." He sighed. "That's probably why you two are like that. Please, open your eyes, I'm told you've got them back not too long ago. Cross that damned door and hug her. Stop being so stuck up, stop hiding behind your virtue, and the excuse of letting her decide, and do it. For fucks' sake, she needs it. She needs it so much she clung to me, even if she despised me — rightly so, alright. I may have no idea how lonely Riza on my side is, but you're just as blind. If not worse. Follow your dream, climb to Fuhrer, hell, maybe even wait until then, I don't care, but let. Her. Know. That girl... Fuck. She went to Ishval. I can't... She's broken.”

"She clung to–" Roy narrowed his eye at him. "If this is your idea of a joke, I'm not laughing. She's not broken, she's the most resilient person I've ever met. She doesn't need to cling to a stranger."

"Oh wow. You really are blind." Roy’s shoulders dropped, and he shook his head in disbelief. He felt a sudden pang of sadness for the other Riza. She looked up to this man, only for him to throw mere crumbs at her. And to think she was alright. Or, maybe... 
"She did cling to me. She had a nightmare, and when I found her, she asked me to stay by her side. I couldn't just leave her this way. I hugged her, that's all. She needed it. And she needed you. Not me. Now... I understand you might be trying to keep away from this. Distraction from your goal, frat laws... Guilt–"

Blind? Was it true? Had she really needed him that much that she had sought comfort from this twisted version of himself? That didn't sound like the Riza he knew, but then he hadn't expected Hawkeye to confess she'd been looking up to Roy since before Ishval. Perhaps they were right. Maybe Riza wanted — no, needed — more from him than he was offering, but he didn't dare take that step by himself.
That would never be his call to make. It had to be her, just like it had been her choice to have her back burned and to follow him.
He looked away. 
"I told you to stop confusing us with you. We're different. I can't run away from her even if I wanted to. My life is hers to do as she pleases, and it has been so since Ishval. I am whatever she needs me to be. It has always been up to her to decide what that is."

Roy sighed. This guy was a piece of work. Wonder who he reminded him of, eh.  
"Might want to check those ears of yours, too. By all means let her decide, but please, show her she can. Sometimes, hearing her talk about you, you're so perfect, you feel barely human. And I'm sorry. I'm sorry she had to go to Ishval and you must feel so bad about it. But that means she needs you even more. I know I made a terrible mistake. Now, if you would please let me cross, I have some apologies to make and decisions to take." 
He took a step forward, resolute. 

"Perfect–" Roy laughed. "Are you hearing yourself? You're the one with a working parliament and the chance of a family with the woman you love." He stepped aside, clearing the path to the Gate behind his back. "Go ahead, I have my own country to reform and a path to the gallows to walk. I have no time for this."

"So you got no time for her either?"

"God damn it! How many times do I have to tell you I'm doing this for her. So she can have a future where she can look at her reflection without wanting to kill herself! If that means all I do with my life is forge a path to the executioner then so be it. I'll just pray to the Gods I don't believe in that she finds someone who actually deserves her heart once she's free from me and Berthold's wretched alchemy!" 

Roy’s shoulders started shaking, then his whole body jerked. He laughed, a low, bitter laugh, that burned the back of his throat. He shook himself, tried to straighten his mind and his body. 
It took a while. 
Once he was back to himself, he ostensibly wiped his eyes — his eyes, plural, he needed to get his own body back, and if he had to run away one last time, it was from him, from this twisted version of Roy Mustang. If he hated himself, then he didn’t know how to qualify what that man felt about his own self. 
"Look. I know I'm lucky everything went so smoothly. I'm lucky that even if it's far from perfect, we got a Parliament instead of yet another Fuhrer. I like to think I didn't spare myself, in this, even if the political part of it happened without me." Roy points to his double’s, or rather his, eye patch. "And I hope it works for you. Now. It seems it's the same in every world, and believe me I'm as puzzled about it as you are, but there's only one person she'll give her heart to, and you won't make her change her mind. See, I've tried. Won't work. You can plan suicide by gallows as much as you want, she'll keep following you. I'm fairly sure she'd follow you there, too."

Roy dug the heel of his palm against his eye. 
He was right. Of course he was right. He already knew that, no matter how much he wanted to pretend he didn't. Riza had told him as much. She wasn't going to live alone, and alone somehow meant without him.
It wasn't supposed to be like that. He was supposed to bring her to the other side of hell so she could find some peace for herself. He had never planned for her to chain herself to him, but now she had, and this bastard was right — oh how that pissed him off — she would follow him all the way to the gallows if needed. He couldn't let that happen.
What did that mean for them, then? 
He still needed to reform the country and that still meant putting a noose around his neck. He would somehow have to find a way to do that without ending Riza's life along with his. He would have to find a way to give her the life she might no longer deserve, but that he still hoped for her to have, even if it meant he had to be at her side.
Fuck, how did things end up this messed up? 
"Lectured for the second time in a month. And here I thought I had done some growth." Roy sighed and rubbed the bridge of his nose. "Just go. I think we both have enough to deal with without worrying about each other."

Roy stood still. Had he really made the other Roy, the steel willed one, change his mind? 
No. He'd known it. He was just refusing to see. Roy had just pushed the right buttons. Hell knew his had been pushed, lately, and all at once. 
"I think we both grew up a little with this." He smiled. "I've been lectured enough by the Riza on your side."  He shrugged. "Eh, you're right. We gotta find a way for you to give me back my body, though. I'm sure you've bruised it enough for me to remember you for a while. You're not very careful with yours, uh?"

Roy huffed. "I'd take a hundred more scars to protect the people I love. But I'm sure the same is true for you. " He looked back at the gate he came from. "Why don't we try crossing the correct one?"

"I uh. I've never seen one of those. Or, uh, I haven't paid much attention to it,  when I found myself here. But there definitely was only one gate. I just– I don't know what you mean by "the correct one". "
Roy passed a hand through his hair.

"This." Roy pointed to his back. "Is your Gate of truth. That." He pointed behind his double. "Is mine. If I'm right they should connect to their respective worlds. The question is how to open them without losing a limb or worse."

Roy gulped. "I'd rather not. Might sound selfish, but I've lost enough, already. But shouldn't we... Switch back, first? I bet the door will open for the right body, since we crossed this way. But... How?" Roy looked around desperately, finding only white emptiness.

Roy scratched the back of his head. "I don't know. This is the first time that bastard isn't here to greet me."

"...What bastard?"

Roy squinted his eyes at him. Wasn't Truth here because the other Roy hadn't committed the taboo? He should still have seen him when they switched bodies. "Truth, god, the world, you, I, whatever it wants to call itself." 

"Okay, I'm lost, here. Nevermind." Roy brought his fingertips to his forehead, resting his elbow in his other hand. "How would we do? We gotta push the gate, if we want to cross... What if, uh. We ran into each other?" Roy winced. That sounded so stupid. And he was irritated. He was made to feel inferior again. This Roy knew more about this place than him, and it annoyed him.

"I'm not running into you." Roy deadpanned.
He walked past his double, all the way to his Gate, banging his fist against it. "I know you're watching. Take my arms and legs if you want them, but let me cross the Gate. I have someone waiting for me."

Roy watched his counterpart, and had a small smile at his last words. He turned around quickly to hide it, shaking his head, and looked at what was apparently his gate.
It was less ornamented than the other one. The design was surprisingly — or not — close to what he arbored on his gloves. Like on his counterpart’s gate, the symbols of fire alchemy and the salamander were there. But there was no trace of the intertwined serpents that took a big chunk of the other Roy’s door. He wondered what that could mean. 
He gingerly placed his palm on the cold stone, and pushed. Nothing. 
"I'm afraid we're stuck here until we find a way to switch. Your, hum, Truth, there. Sounds like a twisted guy. Maybe it wants something from us? I mean, something that's not a body part."

Roy stared at him blankly. He didn't know what else they could pay as a price. There were only two things he knew that had worked as payment. A philosopher stone and... a Gate of Truth. 
He turned back to his gate.
But if one of them exchanged their gate they would lose not only their alchemy, but also their ticket back home. One of them would forever be stuck. He didn't want to do it, he couldn't do that to Riza, but staying there wasn't an option either. They needed to find a way out.
Maybe if he sacrificed his gate, he could still find a way to cross to his world later. They said their Fullmetal had crossed from a place without alchemy, then maybe he could find a way to reach his world from theirs without alchemy.
I'm so sorry, Riza.
"I think I know what to do." He smiled and offered his hand to the other Roy. "I guess this is goodbye."

Roy looked at the offered hand, then into his double's — his — eye. He narrowed his own — his double’s, damn that was awful — eyes at it. 
"You know, I know that face. Maybe I shouldn't. But eh." He shrugged. "Can't be losing anything with shaking a hand, can I? Good bye, please never do that again." 
He still hesitated for a last split second, then shook the other Roy's hand. 
There was a flash of blue, and a wave of static ran from his fingers through his whole body.

Roy blinked, once, twice. In front of him stood the Roy with an eyepatch. He brought his hands to his face, confirming he had both his eyes. They had switched!
"I– How– damn, Truth really likes messing up with us. But I won't complain, this is better than I hoped."
He heard the Gate behind him open,  and he smiled from ear to ear.
It was the first time he was happy to see the darkness beyond the Gate.

Roy reeled, then found his balance. His hand shot to his face, feeling the familiar fabric of the patch, and he sighed, with a lopsided smile. 
"Urgh, didn't miss that. Please take care of your face for both of us, handsome," he snickered, then smiled genuinely. "See? Maybe running into each other would have worked, after all." 
His gate had opened, too, and he felt the dark tendrils curl around his limbs and start pulling him back. 
"Hey, Roy. Talk to her."

"–and you stop running!" 
The Gate had swallowed him and was starting to close when he added. "Ah, I promised Gracia I would visit so you better keep that promise."

Chapter Text

Amestris 1917

A blinding white flash, again, and Roy found himself on all four, somewhere where the light was a little different, the air slightly colder.
He looked up from his unscarred hands, laying on a half scraped transmutation circle, his gaze immediately falling into concerned amber eyes.

He sighed. He really was back in his own body. He could see the outline of his nose, and when he closed his eye, he recognized the dull pain and odd pull in the left side of his face, when his muscles tried to follow the order from his brain.

There was no pain on his side, though, and his hands responded perfectly when he closed and opened them.

When Roy looked up again, Riza's frown had lessened a bit. There was a glimmer of something in her eyes that would have looked misplaced in the other Riza's. Hope.
Damn, he didn't deserve her.

Roy sat back on his knees, with an embarrassed smile.
"Hey."
Riza was cautious, though.
"Are you really... You, sir?"

Roy forced himself to look around at the two other known faces that pressed around Riza. Alex Armstrong, his Lieutenant Colonel insignias shining in the low light of the wrecked city, an expectant expression on his face. And the Rockbell girl. Winry. She looked both sad and hopeful.

He had the same smile for them both, quickly returning to Riza.
"Unfortunately, I think so, Lieutenant."

He saw her start to move, then think better of it — a blink and you'll miss it moment, really — and she offered him her hand.
"Here, sir. Let's get you up."
He took her hand, looking her in the eye until he was on his feet. She had looked back at him, not blinking once, while she pulled him up. He felt lighter than he had in the last day, springing almost immediately back up. But when he let go of her hand, it took a split second for her to do so. Roy gulped, the awkward sound inaudible under Alex’s booming voice, who hugged him as soon as he was up.
"Our Mustang is back!"
"Yeah, I guess." Roy coughed when the Lieutenant Colonel let go of him.

"Sorry. Hum. For all this." He gestured at the transmutation circle. "Bet it was as weird for you all as it was for me."
He saw Riza look away from the corner of his eye.
"It was."

A little voice rose on his left.
"Sir? How was the other side?"

Roy turned around. He realized he was happy not to have lost his hard earned reflexes in these couple of days. Having to get used to this again would have been pretty tiresome. His hand instinctively went to his side, but there was nothing there. He breathed a little better for a couple of seconds, then thought about his answer.

"It was... Things were different."
"Better?" Winry asked, and the hope in this single word caught Roy at the throat.
"Some things were, I guess." He sent Riza a fleeting look, then went back to Winry. "Some weren't. I'm sorry, Winry, I..."

Talk to her. She has good reasons to loathe you anyway, so better be honest, Mustang.

"...The Elrics, our Elric brothers, they weren't there. But I saw this F– Edward, and– He had his arm back."

Roy expected her to lash out at him, or to start crying, but not the beaming smile she gave him.
"He had his arm back, and Al had his body back, too. The other you told us. They were both safe. It means one day, here, they could come back, together, and– and he could–"
The smile had not lasted long. Roy could only helplessly stare at the tears beaming on the girl's long eyelashes as she tried to fight it and find her words.

Then she disappeared between Armstrong's big arms.
"We're going to get them back, Miss Rockbell," Armstrong started, and was joined by Riza.
"We're not going to stop trying until they are."
"Yeah, I," Roy looked away. "That's actually why I was here in the first place."
"We know. And maybe now you'll let us try to help you, sir." Riza handed him a small notebook. "Before another mess like this happens."
"What is this?" Roy thumbed through the notebook. Alchemy notes, not ciphered — who would do that? The writing was round, childish — but, wait, there were two handwritings there. And that second one was his. No mistake. Except Roy had never seen any of these machines and arrays before.
"It's Alphonse's notebook." Winry's voice rose again, softly. "The other you said he thought that with what Alphonse had found and his additions, you could maybe retrieve them."

Roy frowned, his eye scanning the notes, the diagrams, and the added notes at the margins. His double might have been a tad too optimistic. He would indeed try to follow this lead, but he didn't want to crush Winry's hopes again.
They exchanged a glance. Her eyes were pleading. Roy softened his expression.
"It does look promising, at first glance. Thank you, Winry, for bringing it. I'll study these notes, and my double's, thoroughly."
"We expect nothing less from you, sir," Riza said with an emphatic look before she turned away and gestured for them all to follow.

Roy bowed his head with a smile, and started walking. He had rarely been so happy to be scolded this way.
By this Riza.

He didn’t smile for long, however.

Armstrong had taken onto himself to see Winry back to her place, and Riza had pulled him to the team’s office.

His desk still stood abandoned, empty, the late afternoon sun making specks of dust sparkle over it. As he’d stated when he’d come in that other time, he had no will, nor rank, to reclaim that desk anymore. Let the dust settle.

It seemed the team — and Grumman above them — had not yet understood the message.

“Debrief, sir,” Riza simply said, as if she’d read his mind. As usual.
“I don’t have much to say.”
“It’s an order, Corporal. Fill your report.”

Roy blinked a couple of times, looking at her. Then he complied, taking the small stack of paper Riza was holding in his direction. The softness in her eyes contradicted the order, and he felt worse than if she’d — or the other Riza more probably — frowned.

He looked around. All the desks except one were, if not currently occupied, obviously used by someone and a little messy. When he apologetically looked at Riza — where do I sit? I don't have my place here anymore — she tilted her chin in the direction of the empty desk that was his, a lifetime ago.

Roy stole a pen from what seemed to still be Havoc's desk, sat in what was once his rightful place, and started to fill the report papers. With the barest minimum. He had nothing much to say.

Nothing much to say to the army.

Everytime he dared to look up from his pen, his eye met Riza’s, and she looked down to her own report immediately.

After a while — the light had dimmed, and a quick look at the clock on the wall told him it was past seven — even Roy’s own not injured hands started getting stiff. He put a final point to his report, gathered the multiple sheets and took them to Riza, who was still writing.
“Here, Lieutenant.”
She held out her left hand while she finished her sentence, then looked up.
“Thank you, sir.”
“I’m not sure you’re supposed to call a corporal 'sir', Lieutenant.”

Riza said nothing, but smiled, that soft fond smile again. She managed to make him feel both better and absolutely worse. Then she intently looked at his uniform. His eye followed her gaze to his right epaulet.

That was not the uniform he had disappeared in. This was his old Colonel uniform. Somehow, she’d either pushed or convinced the other Roy to wear this one — which was, indeed, a lot cleaner and in a far better condition than the one he wore in Briggs under his furs.

Roy cleared his throat and looked away.

He was glad she had not chosen to have him wear his last rank — Brigadier General. Colonel was already pretty ridiculous. He didn't deserve these anymore.

Roy shuffled from one foot to the other, not really knowing what to say or do under Riza's acute stare.

He cleared his throat again.
“What do you think, should we read each other’s reports, Lieutenant? This way we’d be up to date with what happened on both sides.”
“Excellent idea, Corporal,” she said, not moving from her chair, and holding her report to him.

Roy read Riza’s detailed report. He tried to read between the lines, paying a lot of attention to his counterpart’s behavior.

"What the–"
It crossed his lips before he could think better.
"Sir?"
Roy looked up at Riza, who was sitting at her desk as would be her usual, looking unfazed.
"What the hell did he do? At the Parliament?"
"I believe you've read it, sir."
"I did. Care to elaborate?"
Something appeared then quickly faded on Riza's face. Roy wasn't sure what it was.

"You might have been away for too long. There's been unrest. The people of Amestris–"
"They don't trust the parliament. They want their 'strong leader' back." Roy sniffed. "Bullshit."
"So you know about it."
"I've tried to keep up to date."
"We encountered them outside HQ, and what you read happened there."
"Did he really unleash Flame Alchemy on protesters?"
"They weren't peaceful, to say the least."
"But still– I wouldn't– Flame Alchemy is–" Roy had a hard time dealing with his outrage at his counterpart's action. Even in the middle of a fit of righteous anger, he would never take the chance to use his flames on someone, civilians, on top of that, who had not striked first. He had killed enough of them already.
Riza seemed to be taking her time answering, too.
"His alchemy…" She smacked her lips. She was going to say something she didn't want to say. "He seemed to be more… accurate with it than you are. Not that you are not — I know you're not — but he managed to heat the people's weapons in very specific areas. I do believe you would have done so over the whole object."
She looked away.

Roy sighed, and rubbed his forehead above his eye patch.

Of course the arsehole would be better than him at this. And was it admiration he could hear in Riza's voice? Roy tried to swallow the bitter taste that had risen at the back of his throat, nodded, and kept reading.

His blood already boiling, he tried not to make a face at the mention of Riza bringing the other Mustang to her place “for surveillance” — what had he done, if not the exact same thing, following Riza’s counterpart into her apartment, her living room, her bedroom? He thought about his discussion with the other Riza, the sadder, broken version of her. How bitter she’d been with him, and yet — how close she was to the one here. He wondered if this Riza had felt the same about the other Mustang.

And realized he’d rather not know.

Roy felt ashamed at his more than lackluster report, now that he had his eye on Riza’s. But what should he have added? He himself hadn’t done much on the other side. Didn’t learn much either. Should he have asked more questions? What for? This one wasn’t the world he intended to reach.

His own report amounted to little information, strung out over two pages to make it look more substantial, and hopefully preventing anyone from having any more questions about this disaster.

The other side was two years behind, but apart from that, pretty similar to theirs. History was roughly similar, too. No functional parliament — Roy had conveniently omitted to specify who had become Fuhrer, and hoped no one would ask him. Grumman was no Bradley, but Roy didn’t think he needed to read that his counterpart had managed to secure the position for himself on the other side, with no obvious intention of giving the power back to the people’s representatives anytime soon. Roy respected the sly old fox, but he was a cunning bastard, and not above playing things to his favor.

Slightly different alchemy, but not overtly so.

Roy Mustang was every bit as efficient and steel willed as he himself was a failure — he was insane, though. Not that he himself thought he wasn't. You didn't massacre thousands of people without getting a little insane in the process.

Riza, there, too, had been to Ishval, and was paying the price for it. Hughes, also — and he was dead all the same.

These, he had not put in his report.

He wondered if he should tell Riza.

He skimmed the rest of her report, glancing up at her from time to time. He had not reported where he’d spent the night, and she didn’t ask about it. He caught her looking at him a couple of times. She had a sad and concerned expression on her face. One he'd seen too many times when he would walk headfirst into door frames or tables. What had he done, now?

Did she miss the other Roy?

He brought the file back to her.
“Thank you, sir,” she smiled at him again and he tried to mirror her, but didn’t think he managed that well.

She assembled the couple of sheets of his report, and the half-dozen of hers, tapping them to align them on her desk. Then she slid them into a big envelope, sealed it, and put it in the basket on her desk.

“I’ll bring those myself to President Grumman first thing tomorrow.” She looked up at him with a shimmer in her eyes she didn’t have before. “I guess we can call it a day, sir.”
“Yes, Lieutenant.”

None of them moved.

Roy swallowed with an audible click, unable to move any other part of his body, unable to look away. Riza’s polite smile gradually disappeared, but the shimmer was still there. What did it mean? Roy wouldn’t dare try to know.

“It was a long couple of days. You should go home, sir. Get some rest.”
Roy breathed.
“Is that an order, Lieutenant?” He dared a small smirk that only met a stern retort.
“I could make it so.”
But Roy kept his smile. He wouldn't let the skewed thoughts win like they had when he left. If Riza wanted the better Roy, so be it, but he couldn't decide to leave her alone again unless she told him so.

After a couple of seconds, Riza had a smile of her own, of the ones it seemed she kept for him, that started in her eyes and only a second later bled onto her lips, like an afterthought. Roy felt he could breathe better at once.

He saluted, clicking his heels.
“Good night, Lieutenant Hawkeye.”
“Good night, Colonel.”

Roy shook his head, and left. On his way home, his steps and heart felt a little lighter.

Home. That was a little too much for his apartment. It had a barely used bed, a couch, a bathroom, an empty kitchen.
Nothing much more than what he'd have at the army barracks. Privacy, maybe, was the luxury this place afforded him. Nothing more.

He had never cared about anything else. Until…

He came back there first not too long ago, a little lost, after the gate had closed again over not only Edward Elric, but also his brother, this time. He couldn’t stop Alphonse. At the very least, he couldn’t force the kid to stay. To be left behind. He understood how it felt.

He'd come to his apartment, because he couldn't dare to go knock on Riza's door. Not after what he'd done. Not after that time they'd spent together, what had slowly built while he was readjusting, and that he had destroyed all at once. Because he wanted to fix things. And failed everything and everyone at once.

Now he had to fix that.

Roy absentmindedly started to brew some tea for himself. The tea bags were a little stale, leftovers from another, radically different time.

Another life.

But his thoughts were elsewhere. Riza's smile. Riza's silences. Riza's glances.

What he had seen today mingled with older memories. Her soft touch. The way she would pass her hand through his hair. The way it'd been so easy to share space, how she'd seamlessly managed to help him while never overstepping, and how he felt he, too, could read her mind at times.

Except tonight. He didn't understand what she wanted to tell him with her smiles and glances. What she thought of him, now that she'd met such a stronger version of himself.

One thing was sure, though. He'd suppressed how much he'd missed her. If could be, he felt even more ashamed realizing this.

Should he have talked to her tonight, in their empty office?

He'd find a way to talk. Had to find the right moment.

Had to think about it, too.

Roy grew a little warm — was it the central heating, was it the tea, or was it what he was thinking about?

He shrugged off his jacket, thinking confusedly about how he would not take for granted how easy it was to unfasten the buttons anymore, and rolled his shirt sleeves. He realized once again that he had not been the one who dressed himself — this body, at least — that morning.

The shirt was buttoned almost all the way up. Not his habit.

Half chuckling and half cringing at the idea, he popped a couple of buttons open. Just to feel more like himself.

He drank from his cup, looking past his reflection on the window — one he wouldn't spend any time glaring at, thank you — at the city landscape, rows and rows of now dark townhouses and bigger, unidentified shapes, lit by the occasional lamppost, or windows.

He wouldn't sleep tonight. He was going to–

Four knocks on his door — one, two rapid ones in succession, then the last.

Puzzled, Roy put his tea cup aside and walked to open the door to his lieutenant.

She had changed into civilian clothes. Casual, comfy ones. Just a sweater and canvas trousers, and a short coat thrown over it. Her hair was down, lazily curling around her shoulders, and catching the light that was coming from his kitchen. Her eyes caught it too, sparkles lighting in the warm amber turned dark in the low light. Roy stared at her, speechless, feeling his lips pull into a small smile.

"Hello again, lieutenant."
"Sir," her eyes darted here and there around the corridor. "You have forgotten to sign a number of reports that need to be sent first thing tomorrow. I took the liberty to bring them to you. May I come in?"

Cover. Riza was good at remembering that. He'd been too taken in contemplation to think about it.

"Sure," he stepped aside. "Come in."

He closed the door behind her. Of course, she had no reports with her.

"So, uhm. What brings you here, Hawkeye?"
He'd rather use her name. He didn't know where she stood. After all, even if she had called him colonel just earlier, it wasn't his rank anymore. She was his superior, now.

The smile disappeared from her face, her cheeks reddening while the rest seemed to pale. She cleared her throat, but kept her eyes in his.

"There is missing information I would share with you, sir. Intel I have not included in my report. I think it is unfair that you wouldn't be briefed about it."
"Uh, go on?"
"You already know I took the other Roy Mustang to my apartment, for lack of a better solution, to keep an eye on him while not arousing suspicion in the army while we investigated."

Riza was now looking at the ground, cheeks as red as they could be. She had taken her usual straight stance, hands clasped behind her back, and her voice stayed stern, matter of fact. Her speech pattern, too, overtly formal.

"Yes. I read that."
"While he was here, your counterpart had a nightmare, and I ended up sharing my bed with him."

Silence.

Oh, so that was why she was all red. Roy gulped, willing his hands to stay open and not curl into fists. It was his turn to look at the ground. He had no right to feel this way. He'd done the exact same with that other Riza.

"It is none of my business what you do with other men in your bed, Lieutenant."

How did he manage to let this sentence go past his lips, he would never know. But he looked up at once at her reply:
"On the contrary, I think it is, sir. This wasn't just any other man. It was you."
"It wasn't–"
"You know it was. It's not you, but it's you. This Roy Mustang was... Lost, for lack of a better word. I figured you must have been, too. Hence why I... Offered him some... Comfort." She seemed to realize what that sounded like, and added in a hurry. "Just a hug. Maybe a kiss. Nothing more."

Roy froze. The hypocrite! The damned hypocrite! Going insane for a hug when he’d fucking kissed Riza, here?

Jealousy tying a knot under his ribs, Roy could only look at the ground. There was a stain on the hardfloor. A small, dark stain. Could have been blood. Hell knew he’d come back home bruised sometimes. Or drunk. Or both.

"Maybe a kiss…” He kept his eyes fixed on that stain. “Did he... Did he accept it?"
"Yes. Shyly so. But he did."

Shyly so.

Roy's mouth trembled, his stomach clenched, and he started laughing heartily, out of a sudden. He had not laughed like that in a long while. All his tension unraveled, leaving him feeling light headed. His jealousy relaxed its grip on his gut.

Shyly so, indeed. The bastard. No wonder, considering…

Riza was looking at him as if he’d blown a fuse and she was ready to call an ambulance.

"I must confess, Lieutenant, that in a moment of madness I might…" He wiped his eye with the pad of his thumb. "...have had you and your counterpart mixed up. I tried to... I tried to kiss her, too."
"Oh." Riza, cheeks redder than ever, glanced briefly at him before looking down again. But she seemed relieved. "What did she say?"
"She slapped me," Roy replied, unable to stifle a second wave of laughter.

Riza's eyes finally met his, and his laugh immediately died in his throat at the indignation he could see in them. That was… heartwarming, somehow.

"It's okay.” He tempered. “She was right in doing so. The mistake was on my side. I shouldn't have."
"But... Why would she slap you? Surely–"
"The question you should ask yourself is, why wouldn't she?” He saw Riza frown again, but he couldn’t help it. He had to ask. “Why don't you? Why are you here, Lieutenant? After all I've done to you, all I caused to happen to you, why are you still here?"

Roy stopped, suddenly out of breath, his eye wide open. He realized he'd slipped, he'd let her see an open wound she shouldn't have. Not yet. It was not the time to speak. He was not prepared.

Eh, too late.

You owe her that. She came all the way to your flat, you owe her your apologies. Like. Yesterday.

But Riza was tactful. She had a small frown, still, but her tone was soft when she spoke.
"Did she really reject him? It didn't sound so, from his speech. You say they were different from us, I think they were not so much, really."
"Well, I beg to–"
"We're two years ahead."
"About that, I– I never got to tell you I–"

Riza very deliberately took a step closer, and looked up at him, her face incredibly serious.

"Would you slap me?"
"What!?"

Roy looked at her in horror at this simple idea.

"What, why would I? I'd never–"
"If I tried to kiss you, right now, would you slap me?"

Roy gulped, chest heaving, trying to get some air. All and any reply he might have had for her now crashed against her question, stopped in their tracks. He tried to see if she was joking. But that wasn't the kind of jokes Riza did. She was looking at him with her big brown eyes, deadly serious.

He blurted out.
"Of course not!" Of course he wouldn't. How could she–

His eye had seen her get closer, and closer still, but his brain only registered that she was that close when her hands cradled his face and her lips crashed against his.

It was an awkward kiss that lasted only a couple of seconds.

Roy delicately pushed Riza away from his face.
"Riza, we should–"
"You don't want it." Her face crumbled at once, and he could see the effort she put in keeping a straight face. She closed her eyes. "I'm sorry, sir. I don't know why I was so stupid to think– I'll leave you be."
Before she turned around, he caught her upper arm.
"No! Riza, no. I want it. It's just–"

Acknowledge that you left because you felt inadequate.

He held her arm too tight. Roy released the pressure in his hand, caressed where he might have hurt her. He kept doing so.

"It's just that I don't feel I deserve it. I don't deserve you. This is why I left, and– and it's worse now because of it." He snickered. "And now that you've met that other version of me, I– I feel–"
Riza blinked a couple of times — her eyes were misty. She looked at him closely, as if trying to know more than what he had just said. Or maybe she didn't believe him.

"Why?" She gulped, looked away, then looked straight back at him, then asked again, "Why did you leave, Roy?"

Roy could feel this question had haunted her, tortured her, kept her up at night for two years, in the way her voice croaked. He had a fleeting thought that Hughes should have let him shoot himself, so that nothing would have ever happened, and he wouldn't have hurt her so much.

Congratulations, Mustang, you've found a yet more definitive way of running away from your mistakes.

Shut up, apologize and own your bullshit.

Roy could only look at her and shrug awkwardly, feeling hollow. He had answers, but none of them were good enough. He tried one, but he knew before he opened his mouth that she wouldn't have any of it.

"I did my part. I got us rid of Bradley. Peace is on the way. And– and what’s the use of a weapon, in times of peace? I’m useless now. I don’t… I don’t think the army… I’ve foregone my rank. My alchemy. My life, in fact, because I felt so useless. What are you going to do with a– a useless, disfigured corporal with battle fatigue? You deserve better. You could have so much better. I don't want to stop you from getting it."

Sure enough, now Riza was frowning, deep, and if there were still tears in her eyes, the look in them wasn't sad and dejected anymore. It was angry.

"Are you done with the self pity already? It gets frankly tiresome. You're right. You were the one who got us rid of the monstrous tyrant that made a graveyard of this country. Thank you, and congratulations. But you're so much more than all that! And still. You still have to ensure you didn't do that in vain, that yet another insane person doesn't take his place. And even without this, you're– you’re–” She huffed, her cheeks red, and a shine in her eyes — she looked to the side, first, then planted her fierce stare in his. “You’re so damned self centered you can't even consider what I might want. And you don't know what I deserve. This is none of your business to decide." She grasped his shirt, pulling him closer. "I waited for you, because I wanted to. I took care of you, because I wanted to. I slept with you, because I wanted to. You think it was out of what? Pity? For you? No, it was selfish and stupid, and I wish to be allowed to be selfish and stupid all I can, just like you are. So stop this. Either you want it, or you don't, but don’t try to find excuses."

See, Mustang? Different Riza, same mistake. The other had pointed it, already. You just can't stop trying to decide for others, can you? What do you want to achieve, here, make both of you miserable because you want to protect her? From what? Your sorry arse?

He looked at her, taking in her scowl, her fierce stare. She was just as beautiful as she had been when he opened the door earlier. More beautiful, even, angry as she was. And he was relieved. So relieved. That she didn't mention the other Roy, not even once. That she was angry at him for his actions — not what he lacked.

He smiled, and reached to push a strand of hair behind her ear, noting the slow blink it elicited. She was right to be angry.

And yet she was here. She came back to him when he kept running away.

"I want it."
She had a long sigh, and briefly closed her eyes.
"Will you stop being an idiot?"
Her voice was still stern but her expression had mellowed.
Roy scrunched up his nose.
"Can't guarantee it, but I'll try."
She rolled her eyes.
"Fair enough," she said, then kissed him again.

This time, it was a gentler kiss, one where he could take in fully how soft her lips were, how silky her hair was under his fingertips. Every bit like he remembered — but better.

This time, he didn't push her away, letting her press against his chest, sliding his hands on her cheeks.

Amestris 1915

The first thing he registered as the world shifted back into focus was the searing pain on his side. The pain took him so much by surprise that he almost fell forward, barely stopping himself from hitting the ground face first. He didn't need to check to know he was back in his body. Even after a day without it the pain was intimately familiar to him.

"Colonel?" The tentative, almost fearful, voice was followed by a firm touch on his shoulder. Roy looked up only to meet a pair of hopeful amber eyes.

They really were the same shape and color, yet somehow hers were more beautiful.

"It's good to see you again, Lieutenant," he said, a little softer than he had intended, and the frown on her face morphed into a relieved expression.

Someone cleared his throat and a hand appeared in his field of vision.

"Need help getting up, old man?" There was a retort on the tip of his tongue the moment he saw Fullmetal's teasing grin, but Winry's heartbroken expression held him back from snapping at him.

He was lucky to have this idiotic teenager here to annoy him.

"Thanks, Edward." Fullmetal's baffled expression when he accepted his — now flesh — hand, was better than any retort he could have come up with.

"Huh, did you hit your head on the way here?"

Roy ruffled the boy's hair with a smile. "Let's say traveling across worlds puts things into perspective."

"Hey! Stop that you asshole! I'm not a little kid."

Roy ignored Ed, as he continued ranting, and took a look around. Alex was also there, standing not too far behind Riza. They were in the same room he'd disappeared from, but all the rubble had been cleared and the circle was now visible. He could recognize the runes in it from Alphonse's notes and the other circle. It was almost an exact match to the one he'd used on the other side.

He'd been really lucky to end up in a place with alchemy and experience crossing between worlds. Perhaps he should be thankful it was that other Roy who had been carrying the circle with him and not another.

"Major."

"Sir?"

"Destroy this circle and any other you find like this one. That should be your team's priority moving forward."

"Roger that." Alex saluted and started walking towards the circle.

"Are you sure, Mustang?" Ed asked, eyeing the transmutation with pity. "Seems like a waste. There's a lot we could learn from studying it."

Even without his Gate that boy would always be an alchemist at heart.

"No. It's too dangerous. I don't know how much the other me told you, but their world was invaded through a circle like this one. There's no guarantee the same couldn't happen here."

"Invaded?" Ed asked with a shocked expression.

"He mentioned they had to fight people from the other world, but he didn't clarify the scale of the conflict," Riza added, sounding just as shocked.

What a surprise… Of course his counterpart hadn't been forthcoming with his information. It was probably a minor miracle they had figured how to send him back.

"From what Hawkeye and Armstrong told me it sounded like a whole battalion made it through the circle. The damage done to Central was substantial. Lighter but more widespread than our fight against Father."

"I see," Edward said, clearly dejected.

"Then we better get rid of them quickly."
Alex put on his gloves and looked back at Roy for confirmation. One nod and the circle was broken and unusable. "I'll have my team scout for any other transmutation circle."

"Thank you, Major."

Alex nodded and started his walk out the room, but not before turning around and saying, "It is good to have you back, sir." with a big smile.

"Shall we go report to the Fuhrer?" Riza asked.

Roy hummed and nodded. "Just give me a moment, Lieutenant."

He walked towards Edward who was now squatted in front of the destroyed circle, apparently analyzing what he could of the remnants.

Roy clapped the boy's back harshly. "What the–!"

"Come on, stop sulking, Fullmetal. I got a chance to read through the other Alphonse's notes. I can give you a summary of the theory behind the runes and the circle."

"I'm not sulking! And why didn't you say that earlier, you moron?"

"And miss the chance to see you looking like a kicked puppy? No way."

Ed turned to Riza. "Lieutenant, are you sure we got the right one? I wouldn't mind sending him back."

"You Brat!" Roy clenched his fist only to hiss in pain when he pulled at the scar. He let his hand fall to his side and glared at Ed. "Don't you have better stuff to do than terrorize your former boss? There's people waiting for you in Resembool, so hurry up and get going."

That gave Ed a pause. He looked away and asked, "How was she?"

Roy didn't need to ask who he was referring to.

"Lonely. Yet still holding hope."

Ed tsked, and started walking away towards the exit. "Seems like your counterpart isn't the only dumb one over there."

Roy chuckled. He had the feeling that Ed wanted to punch his counterpart. Roy couldn't say he didn't sympathize with that sentiment.

Roy turned back to Riza."Sorry to keep you waiting, Lieutenant."

Riza shook her head. "Shall we get going?"

"Yeah."

The silence that followed them on their way to Grumman's office wasn't the one they usually shared. This one was charged with uneasiness. There was so much he wanted to tell her, so much he wanted to ask her, but he didn't know how or when to breach the subject.

Riza herself looked lost in her thoughts and Roy didn't dare disturb her.

"Did they treat you well, sir?"

Roy blinked, surprised she'd been the one to break the silence. "Yes, they were all very kind. Even–"

Riza cocked her head. "Even?"

"...Even Winry." Roy swallowed. "He– he killed her parents."

Riza's steps faltered and Roy stopped walking to look at her. She was scowling at the ground looking troubled, but her impassive expression was back in place when she looked up. "You don't have to feel guilty for his actions."

"I don't." Roy sighed. It was more complicated than that. "But I won't lie to myself and say that it couldn't have been me. I'm not that naive."

Not anymore.

Riza fell silent for a moment, a small frown on her face. When she finally spoke her voice was firm and cold. It was the voice of the woman who had promised to shoot him — and almost had done so — if he ever erred from the right path. "It wouldn't have been any different from your other orders."

Roy gave her a sad smile. "No, it wouldn't have been."

The Rockbells were no different from the countless Ishvalan lives he did take on this side. He was a terrible murderer with or without their deaths over his head. That, Riza understood, better than Hawkeye ever could.

Roy resumed his pace without looking back.

He'd missed having her at his side.

It was way past twenty hundred hours when Roy finally made it out of Grumman's office. As expected, the man had asked question after question about the other world and its inhabitants. The three of them had spent hours going over every little detail, and every counter measure they could think of in case of another contact or invasion.

Roy was exhausted and ready to call it a day by the time they finished, but Grumman had insisted on a chess match. Roy suspected he wanted to test him, to confirm he was who he said he was with his own eyes. The old man had always trusted actions above words, and what better way to test Roy than in yet another one of their chess matches.

Roy was usually happy to indulge him, but his patience was running thin after spending more than a day stranded in a strange new world. Worst of all, Grumman had dismissed Riza as soon as their match started, and with her left all his hopes of talking to her that day.

"You seem distracted, boy," Grumman commented after taking Roy's second knight.

"I'm sorry, sir. I think the trip took more out of me than I realized." Roy yawned to demonstrate his point.

Grumman took out his pocket watch and read the hour. "Hm, it is very late. Why don't we continue this another day?"

"I'd appreciate that." Roy stood up and saluted him. "Have a good night, sir."

He was about to exit the room when Grumman spoke again.

"Ah, congratulations on being the first man to cross between worlds. I think it is an honor fitting for the Commanding Officer of Eastern Headquarters."

Roy froze with a hand on the door knob. "It was my understanding only a General could fill that position."

"We'll have to do something about that then, lest we leave that position to Hakuro."

Roy smirked. "That wouldn't be ideal."

"It wouldn't," Grumman agreed. "Go home, Roy. You have earned it."

Roy turned around and saluted him one last time.

He left the office in a better mood than he had arrived.

He'd been expecting the promotion. Many of Bradley's Generals had died or been imprisoned during the Promised Day. Grumman would need to fill those positions with people he trusted, sooner rather than later, so this wasn't a big surprise. Still, it was good to finally have a confirmation.

The team would be happy to hear about it. They too were due for a promotion, one Roy would make sure to give them as soon as he'd collected his own. He couldn't wait to tell them all about his last two days. He could almost see the expression and disbelief on their faces. He was sure Fuery would be thrilled to hear more about this other world with flying machines. Maybe he could draw some of Alphonse's sketches for him.

Roy was so distracted with the images in his head, he had almost reached his car when he noticed a person standing next to it.

He blinked once, twice.

"Lieutenant," he said, surprised to see Riza there.

"Colonel," she greeted.

"I thought you had already gone home. You didn't have to wait for me."

"I wanted to," she said in her typical neutral tone. "There are a few things I want to go over with you."

Her words reminded him so much of Hawkeye's the previous night that Roy had to stop himself from blurting out if she was taking him home too. Not that he would mind that. Not at all. But this was Riza, not Hawkeye. Knowing her, this would be about something she hadn't wanted Grumman to hear. Perhaps something related to Flame Alchemy.

"Of course. Should we head back inside?"

"No, we can talk on the way. I'll drive you home."

Not her apartment then.

Of course not.

This Riza Hawkeye would never offer something like that.

He tried not to be too disappointed about it. Or think about how all he had at home were leftovers from three days ago instead of Hawkeye's warm meal. Or how empty his apartment would feel without Hayate following him around. He had only spent a day with them. He had been eating and sleeping alone for years. The absence shouldn't hurt as much as it did.

Roy cleared his throat.

He would survive.

"Let's go."

It was oddly comforting to see the city pass by the car window. He could recognize most of the damage done to the buildings, some which had been done by own hands. The feeling of something being askew was missing. It was the last piece of evidence he needed to convince himself he was really back home.

"You seem happy."

"The city looks just like I remember. It's… nice."

"Nice? Was it really so different?"

"No, that's the issue. It was a bit like looking at yourself in a distorted mirror. It was recognizable but disorienting."

"I see." After a moment she added, "I'm glad you're back."

"So am I," he said with a big smile. "Was there anything specific you wanted to talk about, Lieutenant?"

"You," Riza answered. "the other you, I mean."

Roy turned to her and observed her expression under the passing street lights. There was nothing there to betray her thoughts. Where was she going with this? "Um, what about him?"

"There are some things I didn't mention before. He wasn't very forthcoming with information about his world, but he was surprisingly talkative about his personal affairs. About the two of them. They were–"

Ah… so that's what that was about.

"Involved. I am aware. They lived together for a year."

"For a year?" Riza coughed in surprise. "He only mentioned that she took care of him, not for how long. I can't believe he still left her after–"

She cut her sentence and scowled at the road ahead.

"It seems your counterpart was more generous with her information."

"...I can't put all the blame on him. I didn't give him much to work with either."

Roy chuckled. So this side had ended up with the two distrustful ones. Not that he could blame them for that. The situation on this side must have been more hostile just by virtue of it being their first time making contact with another world. The other side had been more prepared and ready to work with him. All considered he'd been lucky.

"I met him at the Gate," he said after a moment.

Riza glanced at him quickly, eyebrows raised in surprise. "You did?"

"We talked some before switching back to our bodies. Not the most pleasant conversation I've had."

"What did you talk about?"

"You."

"Me?"

"Both of you. She's still waiting for him. I told him to stop running away." Roy licked his lips. "He had a strong choice of words for me too. He called me a 'fucking dangerous maniac' for burning your back."

The car slowly came to a stop in front of a traffic light. "I– um, I'm sorry, sir. I didn't have time to explain things to him properly. He shouldn't have said that. He was out of line."

Roy shook his head. "It's your secret to share, and I can't say his words weren't deserved."

"That's not– I could see how much it hurt you to do it. You're not some kind of monster that enjoys hurting others."

"That doesn't change the fact that my choices put you there, just like my choices put so many Ishvalans on the other side of my fire. I might not have meant for it to happen, but it's still my responsibility."

"Your resp– My choices put me there. Not yours. I accepted to carry my father's research. I decided to pass it on to you. I chose to join the military. I chose to walk this path as much as you did yours!"

Roy flinched back, surprised by her harsh tone. He rarely heard her this angry.

"Sorry," he apologized, then chuckled softly. "You know, she yelled at me too, after I told her you would've been better off if we never met."

"You said– with all due respect, sir, you're an idiot."

"I know."

"Don't ever say that again."

"I won't. I've learned my lesson."

"Good." Riza said pointedly, looking back to the road ahead to wait for the green light.

"Do you think he'll talk to her?" He asked after a moment of silence.

"I think he will. He was haunted by his actions. I think he realized he made a mistake."

"Good. He deserves it for putting her through that."

Riza frowned. "You seem to be very protective of her."

Roy's breath hitched. Was that an accusation? She didn't seem to like the other him that much, not that he could blame her. Had she expected him to feel the same about her counterpart?

"We– um, we also spent some time together. She told me a little about her childhood and Berthold. The other me wasn't there for his funeral." Riza made a little surprised noise at that. Roy gulped. He could leave it at that. Let her think that was all there was to it. He felt he owed her the truth. "She… seemed lonely, and I– um, we kissed."

This time the car came to a sudden halt in the middle of the road with so much force Roy had to brace himself. When he looked at Riza, she was looking at him with an odd expression, one he'd only seen on her face once before. In Ishval, when she demanded to know why alchemy was being used to hurt people. One full of betrayal.

"You kissed her?"

"I– yes."

"I see." Riza looked back ahead to the road, her expression slowly turning from surprise into apathy. "Sorry for the outburst, sir. It's really none of my business."

"None of – she's you! Of course that's–"

"No, she's not. It wasn't me who you kissed. It was her. I might share her name and face, but I do not share her experiences."

Roy stared at her, seeing the slight twitching of her jaws and the barely concealed storm behind her eyes. If he didn't know any better he would say she looked– "Are you by any chance jealous, Lieutenant?"

"Of course not!" She snapped at him, her expression quickly turning to rage. "He tried to kiss me too, you know."

What?!

Roy's eyes widened. "Y–you kissed him?"

"I slapped him."

"Oh…" Ah… he had been mistaken. It wasn't jealousy he saw in her face, it was disgust. She was disgusted at the idea of kissing him.

Roy swallowed, trying to shove down the hurt feelings that threatened to spill from his chest. He was the only one to blame here. He'd been the one to fall for someone he didn't deserve, and to kiss someone not meant for him. He didn't need to burden her with his feelings any more than he already had. He just needed to shut up and be the perfect soldier until the day it was finally his time to pay for his crimes. Like he'd promised her the day she came under his command.

"I– I'm sorry, Lieutenant. That was wrong of me. Both the kiss and questioning you. I promise not to bring it up again."

For some reason his reply just seemed to piss her off more. Riza didn't reply, she just started the car again and drove in silence. A very uncomfortable silence, that eventually got to be too much for him.

Roy cleared his throat. "Grumman wants to give me command of Eastern Headquarters. He's going to promote me."

"Congratulations," her tone was icy and lacking any of the joy he'd expected.

Roy's heart dropped.

He'd thought that learning he was a step closer to their goal would cheer her up. That was what she was here for, no? She was there to help him reform the country. If that didn't please her, then what could? Had he finally broken her trust for good? Was she going to stop following him?

That was something he'd hoped she would do many times in the past. Cast him away and search for a better life. But now that he was faced with the real possibility of it happening all he could feel was panic.

He couldn't do this alone.

He needed her.

"I– uh," he said, trying to find something that would stop her from leaving. Anything that would cheer her up. "I met Black Hayate on the other side too. He was all grown and well behaved." He continued when Riza didn't answer. "She trained him to follow Roy around. I think in case anything happened to him while he was still adjusting to his limited vision. That dog is really smart."

No answer.

"I– also saw Gracia and Elicia. The other me visits them often, it seems. I was surprised. Elicia is a lot like her father. Too excitable and nosy. She asked if I was a pira–"

"Was it because of the Tattoo?"

Roy blinked at her, surprised by the sudden outburst. "Huh?"

"Is that why you kissed her, because she doesn't have it marked on her skin?"

Oh. "No. I– uh, I didn't know about the tattoo at that point. It was–"

"Then why her and not–" she cut herself mid sentence.

Why her and not me?

Is that what she had been about to say?

No, it couldn't be, he must be hearing things. But there was no denying how hurt she looked. Ah… maybe he really was an idiot. He had mistaken her feelings twice. Not jealousy, not disgust, this was something more complex and personal. There was sadness and self doubt on her face. The kind he'd seen in Hawkeye's face that morning when she'd talked about her childhood.

It broke his heart.

"Riza–" she flinched at the use of her name, but he refused to call her Lieutenant for what he was about to ask. "Please feel free to shoot me if I got this wrong, but do you… do you want me to kiss you?"

So many emotions crossed her face at the question that Roy had a hard time picking them up. There was however not mistaking her bright red ears and cheeks.

"Yes. No. I don't know." She swallowed. "I– We shouldn't. We can't. You're my superior officer, and we don't deserve that, not after–"

"Riza…" this time she didn't flinch but her grip on the steering wheel tightened. "Riza, please stop the car and look at me."

It took a long unbearable moment for her to sigh and drive the car to a small empty alley on the side of the street. It took even longer for her to finally let go of the steering wheel and look at him. He had never seen her look so embarrassed. He wanted nothing more than to hug her right there and then, but there was something he needed her to hear first.

"I don't know if this is alright. I don't know if we deserve it. I think I don't, but I'm selfish enough to want to make you happy, even if it means taking something I don't deserve. Hawkeye was so hurt by his actions and absence, but I also saw glimpses of the happy life they shared together for a year. I can't give you that. Not right now, perhaps not ever. But I want to give you the closest thing to it I can, if that would make you happy."

Riza swallowed and closed her eyes tightly. Roy took her face in his hands and passed his thumb over the unshed tears shining her eyelashes. The look she gave him when she opened her eyes was so vulnerable, but hopeful and warm.

"It would be my pleasure and honor. If… if you'd allow it."

The nod was so small he almost missed it, but it was all he needed to proceed.

He caressed her cheeks with his thumbs and leaned forward, pressing his lips against hers. Riza shivered against his hands and a small — beautiful — gasp left her lips. He ran his tongue over them, eager to learn her taste. She tasted so sweet, so unique, like the morning tea and the memories of an old dusty house and evenings spent filing reports together. It was unlike anyone he'd ever kissed before, because this was Riza. And there was no one like her. Not even across the universes.

Riza ran a hand through his hair and tugged at it, just hard enough to feel it but not enough to hurt. He groaned against her mouth and grabbed her waist, bringing her closer until she was almost sitting on his lap. He kissed her tongue, her lips, her neck, chasing her intoxicating taste.

"Roy," she gasped, her voice rough with want. It was his turn to shiver at the sound of his name on her lips. He couldn't remember the last time she'd called him that. Perhaps never.

He nuzzled her neck and nipped at it. "Say it again."

She let go of his hair and brought her hands to cradle his face, making him look at her. She had never looked as beautiful as she did then, with her kiss swollen lips and bright happy eyes.

"Roy," she whispered against his lips in a soft and brief kiss. He leaned forward, eager to recapture her mouth, but she held his face firmer and rested her forehead against his. "This can't be a priority."

He swallowed. "I know."

"I will still keep my promise and watch your back."

He sighed. "I wouldn't expect any less from you. But I won't give you any reasons to see it through."

"Good." Riza smiled and brought him into a hug. "Congratulations on your promotion, Brigadier General Mustang. Now hurry up and become Fuhrer so I can take you home… sir."

Roy laughed from the bottom of his heart. "As you command, my Queen."