(I'm sorry I'm sorry I swear Parental RoyEd will happen it's just all of those projects are monster multi chapters and these Roy and Hughes oneshots are so easy to write I'm sorry T_T) *cough* twoshot. I'll hopefully throw the next bit up in a week (which I actually like far more than this half). Next half is Elicia making us all feel very sad, and a lil bit of Roy angst, but at the moment it's the rest of the Hughes clan and all the feels.

Sequel to my Left Behind by Death fic, in which (if you don't remember/want to read it) Hughes was in a coma, not dead, and post-series, Roy gives up his eyes- literally- to save him. Feels, angst, and fluff now commences. Enjoy!

"Do you have any idea how furious I am with you?"

"I think I've got an idea, yes."

"...Roy."

"Maes."

"Stop smiling!"

If anything, the hoarse half-shout just makes his smile even broader than before.

Maes sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose, and wonders if Roy really is trying to stress him into an aneurysm after all.

Another half-glance in Roy's direction and he sighs again, realizing he really can't be angry, not when his friend looks like that. He's currently occupying himself stretching like a big, contented cat, long and lazy and absolutely, blissfully unconcerned with the fact that he's being yelled at- for god's sake, he looked about to spontaneously combust with happiness. Maes doesn't think he has ever even seen him this happy before.

The fact that he's in a hospital bed, and the space where his eyes are supposed to be is hidden behind a layer of fresh gauze that's already slowly dyeing red with fresh blood, does not seem to be putting a damper on his spirits at all.

"I don't get you at all," he mutters. Or tries to, anyway; the words catch painfully in his throat and his effort to stop it from transforming into a series of harsh coughs fails, and rather badly at that. He would've doubled over if he'd had the strength, heel of his hand pressed to his chest and eyes squeezed shut, sick, in pain, and exhausted.

Some rustling next to him doesn't get the coughing to stop, but it does get him to turn his head, and realize Roy is suddenly fumbling upright, concern etched into every line of his bandaged face. Alarmed, he struggles to hack out some sort of order to stay where he is, that he's fine- but quickly finds out Roy doesn't need any help.

Despite being blind, he moves quickly, confidently trailing a hand along the wall to cross the space between them, even somehow managing to pour out a little plastic cup of water. It overspills some and splashes on his hand, but the fact that he the entire pitcher didn't end up on the floor left him gaping, too stunned to resist when Roy's suddenly at his side, pale face still marked only with concern.

It's even more startling when Roy helps him to sit up, one hand steady and flat against his back while the other hovers around with the water near his face. It's just- well. Roy's not touchy feely, by any definition, but there he is, like it's nothing at all, and, all right, now he's either going to pass out or throw up, and all over poor Roy, too-

"Hey, hey, take it easy. It's all right, you're fine. Take a breath, come on..."

Sitting up helps, taking a breath does not; he's so exhausted now all he can really do is collapse against Roy's arm, head reeling until the spasms stop. Roy pushes the water closer, insistent in a way that belies his worry, and Maes would like to say he doesn't need help, but the truth is that he does.

"...''M fine," he finally manages, giving his hand a little nudge back towards his side of the room. "Sorry. I'm... okay."

Roy tries to laugh at that, at the obvious lie, but its brittle, and pained. He hovers for a moment or two, anxious, then finally just swallows and helps him lie down again. He stands there a moment longer, hesitant by his side like he doesn't want to bring himself to leave- then finally just shakes his head at himself and starting to traverse back. He stops uncertainly in the middle, pausing, and Maes can't help but sigh again.

"To your left," he says quietly, voice even more hoarse than before.

Roy sighs himself, turning back in the proper direction and favoring him with a weak grin as he heads back to his own bed with precisely measured steps, carefully lowering himself down. "Sorry. Guess I got turned around a little."

Maes frowns at him, because while he wouldn't put it past Roy to be trying to put on a brave face, for his sake, that simply can not be the only explanation. He's acting like he's had weeks of experience traversing a hospital blind, not four hours. "Roy... h-how on earth... did you..." He swallows roughly; it still hurts to talk and he can barely catch his breath. "I m-mean-" Well, it'd certainly be tactless to say not fall flat on your face, but...

"Let's just say I've got some experience being blind."

"W-What are you-"

A nurse slips into the room, cutting Maes off sharply into silence. She checks over a silent Roy's bandages, then fusses over Maes, fluffing pillows and stretching sheets. It's an awkward and uncertain silence she creates in her wake, bustling around, and it irks Maes, but he can already feel himself getting tired again, his eyelids drooping the longer and longer the woman checks over him. Five months asleep, and it feels like his body's just forgotten how to stay awake; already he can feel himself slipping under again.

He's still awake enough, just barely, to feel a reflexive flash of guilt when the nurse flicks the light out before she leaves, realizing that he's the only one in the room to have seen it.

Roy clears his throat in the new darkness, and blearily looking over at him again, he sees that same self-assured, relieved, weightless smile as before. "You don't get to be mad, Maes," he said softly, and Maes doesn't think Roy has ever looked so at peace. "It was my choice, and I don't regret a single thing."

"Roy..."

He laughs suddenly, deep and relieved in the darkness, and leans back in his own bed, arm tucked behind his head. "Go back to sleep, Maes," he chuckles, like he'd somehow just known how tired he was, "I promise I'll leave the light out," then chuckles some more, like the fact that he has absolutely no use for light now makes the statement even funnier.

The last thing he sees is Roy curling contentedly on his side, and beaming blindly in his direction.

"Oh, General Mustang! You should be in bed. Here, let me-"

"Ah, it's not morning yet? My apologies. I thought it was."

"General..."

"...Just let me stay here for a few more minutes. Please."

Not even half-awake, Maes turns his head to the other side, groaning as he slips further back into sleep. He fades away again, to the latex-gloved grip of a nurse touching his arm... and the stronger, warmer, more familiar hand, firm around his own.

It's his daughter that wakes him up next.

He's still turning over, half-asleep, sluggish mind complaining, vaguely roused by noise and motion, when he's attacked by an armful of squirming little girl. There's no better alarm clock in the world, he thinks, and even if it hurts he can't help but be disappointed when Gracia lifts Elicia off his lap just a few seconds later.

"I'm sorry," she says, but she's smiling so brightly she hardly looks it at all, "I told her to not-"

But he hasn't seen Elicia yet; in all the chaos of the previous night his daughter had somehow been left with a sitter until visiting hours had already ended, and he finds himself hugging the life out of her as best he can. Gracia's nervous for a moment, looking over him like she's afraid he'll break, but then something just gives and she hugs the both of them, so tightly he feels about to snap in half and he loves every second of it.

Elicia doesn't want to be detached from him, and he doesn't really want to let her go, either, and by the way Gracia's still smiling as she helps him to sit up, she understands. She just looks at him for a long moment, eyes swimming, then suddenly kisses him, hard.

It's almost overwhelming; in his wife's arms, his daughter in his, he can feel Gracia crying now, and he sees it when she finally pulls back, but she's still smiling so much he doesn't know what to feel. "I haven't brushed my teeth in months," he mumbles, dazed, and Gracia nearly chokes on a sobbed kind of laugh.

"You taste like medicine," she agrees, and kisses him again.

Elicia stands up clumsily on the bed, getting his glasses herself and pushing them onto his face. He blinks, startled, and his vision finally clears so he can see her smiling, too. "There!" she proclaims, beaming. "You don't look right without them!"

Maes doesn't really feel he looks right with them, either; he's been avoiding looking in a mirror because he can't imagine what he'll find- but neither Gracia or Elicia seems to mind. They're both beaming and crying, and he wipes at his face with a shaking hand, overwhelmed and lost but sure of himself, at least, that this right here is what he wants.

He's so contented with it all that it takes him several moments to realize they've been left alone.

He blinks, turning to stare at the opposite bed in surprise. "Where'd Roy go?"

Gracia smiles fondly, her eyes bright as she shakes her head over at the empty bed. "He left when he heard us come in- wanted to give us some privacy. I tried to tell him it wasn't necessary, but he wouldn't hear of it."

"He just... left?" He rubs his eyes again, trying to wake himself up. "Is that- I mean- is that safe? Should he be off on his own? He's... well..."

To his surprise, Gracia just smiles knowingly again, like the idea of a newly blind man having trouble wandering the hospital on his own was amusing. "He's fine," she says vaguely, moving to sit even closer by his side, molded under his arm and head pressed to his shoulder. "You, meanwhile: stop worrying. All you need to worry about is getting better so you can come home."

He hesitates; wants to still worry- but Gracia sounds so sure of herself he can't help but give in. "Of course," he concedes weakly. "Of course I will," and she kisses him again.

Elicia is bouncing up and down, sitting up on her knees and talking a mile a minute. Her little arms are quickly wrapped around his neck and his head spins; she's grown. She's so big- at least an inch taller, and her clothes- is she in school already?! He strokes clumsily through her hair, fingers cold and shaking as he lifts one of the sections of her ponytail and nearly has a heart attack to find it's all the way down her back now- but in his mind it's supposed to be just above her shoulders.

Something of his baffled expression must've shown on his face, because Gracia's next smile is weak with tears and she wraps her hand around his, pulling it gently away from her hair. "You... missed a lot," and her voice is so thick with emotion he can barely understand it at all.

It's a while before the scene changes, though he supposes he should be grateful that it finally does; sitting here with his family in his arms he feels content and full and warm in a way that just wasn't so before now, content enough that he doesn't even mind his eyelids starting to droop shut again. But he doesn't want to fall asleep with Elicia still standing precariously on his hospital bed, and moreover, not with Gracia still so frightened, looking at him like if she blinks he might drift away.

It's when his arms are falling heavy and limp around Elicia when the door suddenly opens again, drawing him out of his half doze with a jerk. In strolls Roy, Hawkeye materialized at his elbow, the colonel smiling cheekily as he strides forwards like there's nothing out of the ordinary at all. "I return bearing gifts!" he proclaims boldly, though at the slightly sour look Hawkeye gives him, Maes has his doubts who really procured these gifts.

"Coffee for the lady," he says, holding out a cup, "coffee for me," and hugs his own like a security blanket, "and ice cream for the children." Elicia squeals so excitably it hurts his ears, but she only moves away to grab her treat for a millisecond and then she's back in his lap, and Roy smirks. "And water for the hospital patient," he finishes dryly, nodding vaguely over in the direction of the room's water pitcher.

The juggling act was impressive, he has to admit, then snorts when Hawkeye delicately lifts Roy's coffee out of his grip to claim it for her own. "That's water for both the hospital patients, sir," she chides, and Roy's pout is so severe he could make a kitten cry.

Hawkeye gives Gracia a meaningful look, then, and nudges Roy forward, holding out a hand to his daughter. "Come on, Elicia. If you're going to eat ice cream then you need to stand up; you don't want to spill it on General Hughes, do you?"

Elicia pauses for a moment, as if giving the situation serious consideration. Then, stubbornly, she thrust the ice cream back out to her with one hand, gripping onto him tighter with the other. "Don't wanna go anywhere."

Roy laughs. "Don't be silly. Come on, it's just for a minute- I want to go for a walk, and I guess I need a guide dog again. You promised you'd help me not walk into walls, right?" He holds a hand out a little, unwisely offering for Elicia to take it, and Maes frowns.

There are many things for him to comment on, at the moment. General Hughes, since when?, the fact that Roy has evidently decided he can play nice with young children without falling victim to the apocalypse, another since when did that happen?, not to mention this sudden conspiracy to get Elicia away from him, which he's not a fan of in the slightest, and then there's the little problem of Roy offering to lift Elicia off the bed when he's liable to drop her...

Hawkeye, at least, appears to have that last one covered, giving her superior a frown even as she holds her own hand out towards Elicia, looking ready to elbow the colonel out of the way if need be. That does not answer any of his other questions, however.

Elicia gives Roy a look of concern, then sighs, sounding far older than she is. "Okay," she concedes reluctantly, "but... but five minutes! Okay? Then I want to come back!" She gives him a severe frown, then Hawkeye one as well, then him an extra squeeze so tight it almost hurts. "I love you, Daddy," she mumbles against his shirt, and, well, there went his heart.

Hawkeye helps lift her back down to the floor, and Elicia gives another reminder of just five minutes before latching onto Roy's hand, leading him forward. Maes watches the strange entourage leave, thoroughly flummoxed, and continues staring a few seconds after the door shuts before he manages to shake his head in bewilderment. "And what was that all about?" he starts, turning towards Gracia again.

He stops.

"...Gracia..."

Several quiet seconds pass, broken only by the soft hitching of breath and the warm wetness, where her cheek is pressed to his shoulder. She's not looking at him, hazel eyes blinking blindly at the wall opposite... but her arm around him is so tight he thinks she might never let go.

"Go back to sleep, Maes," he hears finally, though it's so weak and unsteady it's barely audible at all, and he swallows the sudden lump in his throat.

"...I'm sorry," he tries to say, "I- Gracia-"

Her hand, so warm it's almost unbearable, slips over his mouth, silencing the words. "Don't apologize," she whispers. "Don't apologize, Maes. Just- oh, Maes. ...Maes..."

He does end up going back to sleep, eventually, no matter how much he doesn't want to.

His wife crying on his shoulder follows him there, and he somehow feels her arms around him still, even in dreams.

The time in the hospital after that becomes a blur, to Maes. Lots of doctors and tests; lots of fading in and out of sleep. Roy never seems to leave, even once he's released, and his family, too, is such a constant presence he's become convinced Elicia isn't going to school and Gracia, to work.

There's not any part of him that has a problem with this.

He doesn't remember most of it, and is glad for it; his body doesn't want to do what he tells it, to the point that he can barely write or sit up or eat or function, and the days in the hospital are spent relearning how to exist as something more than a vegetable. It's a miserable time, the monotony punctuated only by a near constant stream of visitors from the military; Scieska, Alex Louis, Maria Ross, even Ed tore himself away from his brother's side once or twice- he'd have been touched, if he still wasn't so overwhelmed by it all.

When he at last gets to go home, the permission granted when his legs finally decide to carry his own weight again, Gracia is there, smiling ear to ear, and Elicia is so thrilled her hug nearly brings him to the ground. Roy, having seemingly materialized from nowhere again, laughs at him, the bastard, and ends up holding Elicia's hand so his wife can help him to the car without a six year old bowling him over.

He doesn't think he's ever seen Roy so happy, and somehow, the sight of him grinning like a maniac, beaming underneath bandaged eyes- or lack thereof- is one he can barely stomach.

Despite having spent the past god knew how many months in bed, this is all Maes feels up for when he finally gets back home- but crawling into his own bed, with his own sheets, and his wife immediately following thereafter, is miles better than any hospital bed, and he curls up around one of Gracia's pillows with a contented smile. Elicia wastes no time in joining them, jumping to latch onto his arm and hug it tight; the sight squeezes his heart.

The family sleepover becomes, apparently, mandatory, when Gracia can not dislodge Elicia despite it being well past her bedtime.

Not that she tries very hard to do it.

As tired as Maes still is, and as much time as he spends asleep, it takes him three days at home to realize Roy is more than a very frequent visitor.

It keys in to his brain when Roy wonders past him while he's eating breakfast, feeling his way along the wall and by smell to the coffee. Roy's been such a common sight nowadays he doesn't think twice- then, starts and stares, when he realizes it's not even eight yet, and his best friend is pajama-clad and barefoot.

"Did you even go home last night?"

Roy jumps, stumbling around to tilt his head vacantly in his direction. "Oh, it's you... I thought you were still asleep." He rubs the bandages around his head irritably, scratching at them like they were just a nuisance or a bother, then returns his attention to coffee. "You should breathe louder. Then maybe I wouldn't mistake you for your wife."

Maes frowns. "Yeah... yeah, I'll just get right on that one, Roy. Now answer my question- you slept here, didn't you?"

Once again, Roy looks mildly confused as he turns back to face him, now cradling his mug in both hands- hands marked and thick with old scarring- scarring that he doesn't remember. "I thought you knew," he said quietly. "Didn't Gracia tell you?"

"Tell me what?"

"Ahh... your wife has insisted that I occupy your guest bedroom, for the time being." He smiles thinly, gives another gesture towards his face. "Just until these come off. I tried to say I'd be fine at my own place, but- well, you know how that woman gets..."

And then Roy's smiling again, but Maes has to look away. His stomach lurches at the thought of what was- or, perhaps, more accurately, what wasn't- hiding underneath the gauze. He looks down at his plate, abruptly without an appetite.

He can not understand how he seems to be the only one who cares that his best friend is now blind.

"I'm sorry," Roy says suddenly, uncharacteristically soft, and Maes looks up to see Roy gingerly feeling his way towards the seat across from him, features unsure and apologetic. "I didn't realize it bothered you so much. I..." He makes a frustrated face, then finally succeeds in grappling for the chair and drops down into it, now pawing across the table as if in search for his hand. More an afterthought than anything else, Maes gives it to him.

"Maes, Gracia's just- I'd really be fine on my own. She worries, but I don't need to stay here if you're not... okay with it. I can leave. I- I'm sorry... I should've asked you first-"

"Idiot," Maes sighs, and one hand's already habitually rising to cuff him fondly on the head before he balks again at the sight of bandages. He swallows, hard. "When did I say I wanted you to leave?"

Roy hesitates again. He looks unsure still, as if there weren't a hundred different reasons why Maes could never turn him out now, and he sighs again, pushing up at his glasses as if that might make this any easier to understand. "I was just surprised to find out I've had a houseguest without knowing about it," he says lightly, but still, all he can think is just that he doesn't want Roy to go.

But Roy pauses another time, fidgeting with his coffee mug and suddenly shifting uncomfortably, looking about like he's imposing and suddenly not sure about staying. Maes glares, though he knows the effect is lost on his friend. "Let me give it to you this way, you idiot alchemist. After what- you did, I'm pretty sure you have the right to anything in my life that you want. If you wanted the deed to my house I'd probably have to give it to you," he jokes. "Equivalent exchange, right?"

It is a joke, but in words only. The sentiment underneath is real, and so pained Maes doesn't think he can ever give voice to it. Roy gave up his career for him. Nearly a decade's worth of effort climbing for Fuhrer- gone. He gave up the alchemy he'd given nearly his whole life to; what use was a man who could make bombs if he couldn't aim them? He gave up his independence. He can't even go outside anymore without having half his face covered.

It has nothing to do with the alchemist's tradition.

Maes just knows he can never, ever do anything to earn the sacrifices Roy had made for him- and that pains him more than there are words to express.

Roy stands.

He's so wrapped up in self-loathing he doesn't realize his friend's intent, not until he says, calmly, "Maes," and his voice is so heavy with anguish his heart skips a beat, and his gaze is wrenched up.

Roy's staring- not staring?- a foot or two to the left of him, but his pale face is so etched with cold, unyielding determination and an old sort of pain, Maes can almost feel that nonexistent gaze piercing him straight through. His best friend moves another step back, but never turns away from him, and for the first time since waking up Maes finally sees some real sign, in Roy, of what these past five months have cost him.

He swallows hard again, hands shaking, and does not answer him.

"The only thing I am ever going to ask for in return for what I did is this. I did what I did because I wanted to. That's it. I have no expectation or desire for anything in return. All I want you to do, Maes, is live. Live your life, and be happy. That's all."

Without another word, Roy turns his back, and leaves.

Maes, disheartened, stomach still faintly twisted with nauseating guilt, watches him feel his way out along the walls, then just shuts his eyes and presses his face into his hand.

Gracia clings.

That's the only word for it.

Maes Hughes will be the first to admit that that's actually a fault of his; he can be clingy, and he still vividly remembers his high school sweetheart running for the hills after barely a month, saying he was suffocating her. It really is his luck that he's found people to share his life with that don't seem to mind, but Gracia is now outdoing him even at his worst.

Not that he minds.

Many days, he spends weak and ill; those days Gracia spends in bed with him, and when she falls asleep it's only on an arm or his shoulder. He often half-wakes in the middle of the night to find her pulling him closer still, not any sleepy barely aware cuddle but with a raw sort of desperation he often can't bear to think about. She's there to drive him to doctor's appointments, is sitting on their couch holding his hand and brazenly ignoring the uncomfortable looks during the half-hearted interviews with generals who don't actually want to know he was shot by a homunculus, but need to go through the motions of an investigation anyway. No matter what it is, she's always there... and the look she gives him on those rare occasions she has to leave is like being punched through the stomach with a bowling ball of guilt.

She has to help him bathe; he can't stand long enough for a shower, and it's hard for him to wash the area around the wound. It's some measure between awkward and embarrassing that he doesn't have words for- but Gracia, he can see, feels even worse about it than he does.

She tries very hard not to look at him. Not the lingering shadows of malnutrition and wasted muscles from five months sedentary, and especially not the new webbed network of scars, spreading out from where that bullet had lodged just one millimeter from his heart. He knows it's not out of pity or revulsion... but still, it's hard to take.

Gracia does look accidentally, once.

He knows it's an accident, because her eyes are canted downwards, staring to her knees when the soap slips out of her wet hands. She jumps reflexively, reaching out for it, laughing- god, he hasn't heard the sound in months, and at the moment he swears it's the sweetest sound he's ever heard- and her head goes up on instinct and-

There. Face full of ugly, new scars.

Her face falls.

For several moments, it's just that. Just Gracia, frozen, staring at his heart, and the look on her face is anguish. There is simply no other word for it. She stares, stares so long Maes' face flushes and his stomach twists, and he's driven to bitterly look away, swallowing the lump in his throat to reach for a towel- his shirt- anything to cover it with-

And then Gracia's touching it, with one shaking hand.

First her thumb, then her forefinger traces the deepest, most gnarled red line, the one that curls straight over his heart. The sensation tingles, the skin sore and numb all at once, and Maes swallows again. He looks away, trying not to think or feel it. It was a miracle he'd lived. It was a miracle he hadn't died on the spot.

"...Gracia." His voice is thick, and somehow even more so when he swallows, trying to quiet the pain and regret. "You don't have to... it's all right."

The words crack, belying the lie, and Maes then just lets his voice fade into silence.

His wife, fingers shaking against his chest, lets her arms then drift to wrap around him, and she presses her cheek just over his heart. Her head's tucked under his chin now, water dripping slowly from his face to her hair, and he can see the moisture darkening her shirt as well, but all Gracia does in response to being soaked is tighten her arms around him, a single hitched breath felt just against his heart.

She's holding him like she's terrified that if she lets go for a single second, he'll disappear.

The pressure makes the scars hurt.

"...I love you," he whispers, because, in the end, that's all there is to say.

Roy doesn't cling, because Roy Mustang doesn't cling.

He still finds some way to almost always be in the same room as him- and once again, Maes finds he doesn't have a problem with this.

At first, when Maes still spends most of his time in bed, Roy's in there, too, just sitting there quietly and watching him. It quickly becomes apparent that it's not just that Roy doesn't want to be alone, and he's not just catching up for lost time, either; there's some desperate quality to his presence that he recognizes from the way Gracia holds him now, an anxious sort of need to be near him that is almost uncomfortable in its anguish.

He's never seen Roy like this before, and tries very hard not to think too much about how bad these five months must have been for them all.

They talk, about anything and everything; Roy fills him in on everything that he's missed, which, by god, is a lot. He finds out about the Promised Day, both the official story the government is going with and the real one about Bradley and the homunculi. He finds out why Roy has adapted to being blind so quickly, why Ed's automail arm is gone, how it is that Al's now been restored. When he starts to feel well enough to drag himself out to the couch, the stories turn to the bloodier, more gruesome ones, the travesties that occurred in the tunnels under Central that day, and his head still spins to try and grasp it all. Five months. His family has been through hell- and the world with them, it seems- for so long, yet to him it feels he was gone barely a day. He simply can't grasp it.

During one such conversation, listening to Roy hesitantly describe how close they'd come to losing the battle and the day, Maes groans and leans over, rubbing a hand across his face. "God, I'm so sorry, Roy," he mutters forlornly. "If I'd just managed to get you on the line faster that day, I could've told you- said something to clue you in to what was going on- maybe things would've gone better for you. Maybe so many of you wouldn't have been hurt, maybe I could've helped..."

Roy laughs at him.

He laughs.

"Maes," he murmurs pointedly. "You know how you're always telling me to ditch the hero complex?"

"...Yeah?"

"Ditch the hero complex."

When the morning comes that Hawkeye appears to drive Roy to the hospital so his bandages can be removed, Maes immediately begs off accompanying him, citing another bout of illness and weakness.

Hawkeye knows, because she is Hawkeye, and knows everything. He thinks Gracia and Roy know too, Roy because of the look on his face when he'd left, and Gracia, because, some minutes after Roy has gone, she interrupts post-breakfast cuddling (a newfound tradition) with a sudden, "The only person who blames you, Maes, for Roy's situation, is you." She wraps her arms more firmly around him, pressing her face to his neck. "You don't get to feel guilty over something that someone else did."

He'd like to say it helps. The truth is that it doesn't.

Roy calls it stylish.

Hawkeye calls it functional.

Ed calls it girly.

Havoc calls it a sex blindfold.

Gracia throws Havoc out, after this leads to Elicia asking them all what a sex blindfold was.

Maes doesn't know what to call it, really.

It's a black, silk strip of cloth, proportions so accurate his best friend probably alchemized it himself. It's wrapped snugly around his head, hiding whatever scars there might be from view, and- well, it's not possible to cover one's eyes in a way that looks natural, but this might be the closest thing there could be to it. He looks like a man whose been blindfolded for some surprise prank by his friends or some other such nonsense, not like he's been permanently handicapped and scarred for life. Maes thinks he might actually be able to walk down the street now without attracting so many horrified stares it's as if he's a walking apocalypse.

He's intensely grateful, and doesn't ponder whether or not it's just because he'd been dreading looking at the scars.

Roy's staff have appeared, quite literally; he swears some of them just sprung up out of the ground, drawn by what somehow has become an impromptu, celebratory party in his living room. They claim it's all for Roy- him and his sex blindfold, Havoc says, who has since snuck back inside and gets pushed out again for his efforts- but Maes knows it's a bold-faced lie. Roy is the center of things, sure, just because that's who he is, but by the way everyone eventually seems to gravitate to him, he knows it's partly to celebrate his own recovery.

Once again, he thinks as Scieska throws her arms around him, hugging tight enough to snap him in half, he's not sure whether to be touched or embarrassed.

Ed and Al Elric make an appearance. The others have all seen Al before, but it's Maes' first time- he actually hears Ed first, loudly declaring Gracia to be the only god in this godless world for her homemade cookies, and while he's threading his way back over towards the voice to greet the tiny alchemist he runs into someone new. His first instinct is confusion, but then, he takes in everything that's familiar-but-not about him, so much like Ed but softer somehow-

It hits him in the same moment Al's eyes brighten, and then his whole face with them. "Mr. Hughes!" he cries, and beams.

Ed barges over not half a second later, pinwheeling about to try and stop the small crowd that hadn't been crushing Al from crushing him, and Maes can't help but laugh at the look on the younger brother's face; some sort of cross between adoring and irritation. Al tolerates the coddling for a few seconds, then not so subtly pipes up. "Brother, I'll sit and rest, promise, so why don't you go back over and talk with Mrs. Hughes? It's been so long since we've seen her, and we're leaving for home soon..."

"But- but Al, you-"

"Brother." Al smiles again, and there is something evil in that smile. "That's fifty-six."

Ed's eyes widen, and for a moment, the former alchemist looks like he's about to have a heart attack.

Ed gives Al a look, then Maes a look, then Al a look again, then gulps and begins to backpedal. "But I'll be back in ten minutes!" he swears, and Al softens just like that, smile adoring all over again as he waves to his retreating brother.

"Fifty-six?" Maes stammers, bewildered, and Al turns his smile on him, sheepish now.

"Yeah. I told him I'm going to start tallying it up every time he coddles me; each offense is another stray cat I'll adopt." He flushes, eyes darting back over towards his brother as if to make sure he was keeping his word. "We're at fifty-six now. He thinks I'm joking, but I'm actually pretty serious. It's payback, for all those poor homeless kittens he's made me ignore until now. I think I'll be able to work him up to a hundred before we get to Risembool!" His smile deepens, and he claps his hand together with such excitement it's impossible not to smile back.

"It's great to finally see you, Al," Maes says sincerely, and grins.

They end up spending most of the rest of the night together, two healing cripples quietly sitting back while the Ed and Roy soak up all the attention like a pair of sponges. Maes feels a little bad, monopolizing Al like this; it'll probably be months before any of them see him again, but he can tell Al's missed him, and neither one of them really have enough energy to survive the military crowd that's invaded his home, anyway.

At some point during the night, after some of the excitement's finally died down and he and Al are just watching quietly as Ed and Roy bicker. Roy reaches out blindly, fumbling for what's left of his wife's cookies- which is to say, nothing but crumbs. He pats the empty plate for several seconds, plainly confused, then starts patting the table instead, as if he might find some there instead.

Ed outright laughs at him.

Maes' shoulders slump, and he stares hard at his feet, fists clenching.

"We've got our hands full with them, don't we, Mr. Hughes?"

He swallows tightly, sending a morose glance in Al's direction. There's something he finds there, though- something understanding- and he remembers at last that he's not the only one sitting here only at the cost of a sacrifice made by someone dear to him. He swallows again, tasting something bitter. "I suppose we do," he says back softly, and looks back to his best friend.

"Have you talked to him about it, Mr. Hughes?"

Maes shrugs, suddenly uncomfortable. "About what?" he asks, though he knows full well.

Al smiles gently again, and he gestures back over to where Roy is now trying to make some sort of point about Ed's height. "I wanted to be mad at him," he starts, and it takes a second for him to realize they're not talking about Roy. "I really did. I tried, but- he was so... so happy that I couldn't. I don't think I've ever seen my brother that happy, Mr. Hughes. I think I could've screamed myself hoarse at him for giving up his alchemy for me and he wouldn't have even quit smiling." Al grins himself, shaking his head a little, and Maes thinks it amazing that the devotion he'd seen on Ed's face so many times is now mirrored so perfectly in his younger brother's. "It sounds crazy... there we were, just at the end of the world, he's covered in blood, I'm barely alive, there's people hurt and dying all around us, we don't even know how many of our friends are still alive but- he was just- he was happy. He was the happiest I have ever seen him."

Maes' heart clenches, for reasons Al could never guess, and he looks down again, swallowing tightly. He shuts his eyes for a moment, a shiver racing down his spine, and struggles not to let Al see how familiar such a description really is to him.

He still remembers waking up in a hospital bed, exhausted, lost, and in pain. He hadn't known anything that was going on- but there's Roy, right across from him, clutching him so tightly it's as if he's a lifeline and Roy is drowning, and...

And smiling at him.

Smiling ear to ear, while blood weeps down his face from the ruined, gaping holes from what were supposed to be eyes.

Maes had screamed so loudly he'd woken half the floor.

"I asked Brother later," Al cuts in quietly, "if he regretted anything at all. I told him he had to be honest. ...He said that he did."

Startled out of his memories, Maes looks up, eyes wide- but it's only to see Al looking over at his brother again, wistful and grateful and loving and content. "He said that his one regret was not figuring out that he could've just given up his alchemy three years ago."

Across the room, Ed- Ed, not even an adult and yet his life's passion eradicated, arm still scarred and leg still metal- sticks his tongue out at Roy. Loudly, audibly, so the man knows he's doing it. Roy responds by clapping his hands together with one of the smuggest looks Maes has ever seen, and a collection of flowers bursts to life out of nowhere. Elicia squeals with delight.

"Least I can still give my woman flowers, Fullmetal," he crows, then holds one up blindly, beaming. "Riza? Do me the honors of allowing me to show this child how a real man handles a woman?"

"Not on your life, sir."

Roy gapes and clutches at his heart, crestfallen and defeated, while Ed cries out, "Critical hit!" and throws his arms skyward in celebration.

For the first time, Maes finds himself not looking at Roy's eyes, but at the aura of contentment that surrounds him.

At last, with a heavy sigh, he turns back to Al, attempting a smile of his own. "Sounds like Ed," he says quietly, and finds he doesn't even have to wonder what Roy's answer would be, if he asked him that same question about regrets.

Al beams, but it's short lived as he, too, glances back over to his brother, then down at his own hands. "I won't lie," he murmurs, biting his lip. "Some days I can't even look at him without only seeing what he lost, what he sacrificed for me. And then it's worse because I know he does miss it, even if he doesn't regret it, and some days I can't imagine why he ever thought I'd be worth it, but... I think all I can really do is just make sure not to waste what he did for me, and be happy too."

...

Maes Hughes is being subtly schooled by a kid barely even half his age.

He wonders if Gracia could have possibly had a hand in setting this up, or if Al is just really this perceptive and brilliant, and quickly concludes it's most likely a little bit of both.

Al knows he's made his point, and he's smiling again as he stands up, looking just as contended as his brother. "Speaking of which, I think I'm going to go be a little more social. It's been nice seeing you again- and I'm so glad you're doing better, sir!"

And with that, he leaves, drifting back over towards where his brother has turned bright red at the mention of his mechanic's name, and Elicia has crawled into Roy's lap, sleepy-eyed and yawning but giggling nonetheless at whatever story the man is quietly telling her by her ear.

Maes closes his eyes, takes a deep breath, and follows him.