#roy saying ed’s got fire in his eyes always makes me grin

[adrift-in-thyme]

Roy and Ed have the best mentor - mentee relationship. Discuss.

THEY DO

Roy after thirty minutes discussing a plan: Ed did you listen to a word I said

Ed: yeah totally. I especially liked the part where you suggested we go get some sandwhiches. I heartily agree

Roy: *internal screaming*

[cakelanguage]

Merry Christmas @okay-sky! I’m your secret Santa for the @fmasecretsanta2020 #fmasecretsanta

I had an absolute blast writing this for you and I hope you like this RoyEd piece as much as I enjoyed writing it. Have a happy holidays and I wish you the best.

You can also read this on AO3

--

The snow was a foot deep and maneuvering through it was a pain in the ass, but Roy was determined to make it to the post office in North City. Normally, Roy rarely makes the trip unless he's on the last dredges of his food supply but the potential for one of Ed's letters to be there had him pushing onward. 

For the short amount of time he'd gotten to spend in Central, he'd spent a large amount of it enjoying the company of the Elric brothers, specifically Ed. It was like an old wound had finally stopped aching when he got to see the man. And he was now. A man, that is. A maturity he never thought he'd see from the older Elric permeated his actions. While he still had a temper he didn't bare his teeth at the smallest of teases. He seemed wiser now and Roy wondered what he'd experienced in this other world. 

His interest and desire to spend more time with Ed wasn't one-sided either. The man--amidst Roy’s own scramble to steal his attention from Miss Rockbell and Alphonse-- found him at all hours of the day to discuss anything. From alchemic theories to the property damage done while he was away, the two never seemed to run out of things to talk about.

When he'd been forced to return up North, Ed had been the one to suggest keeping up a correspondence through letters. Roy didn't mention that he’d have to essentially hike to the post office and instead happily agreed. Ed promised to write often and Roy said he'd do the same. 

And he intended to. 

Which brought him back to his every other day trek.

He didn't know when he'd receive his first letter so he just kept coming back. For the first time, Roy was thankful for the cane that the doctor suggested he get for strenuous exercise in case the scar tissue flared up. He'd been adamant about not using it for the longest time, but out here -- where he wasn't surrounded by people who unintentionally put him on a pillar-- using the cane didn't matter.

His breath puffed in the frosty air as he took a moment to rest his legs. He could already see the city so he'd only have around another 30-minute walk if he continued at the pace he was going. 

North City was as lively as it could be for one with near-constant snowfall. While the population consisted mostly of military personnel there were still plenty of families and small businesses dotted amongst the abundance of government buildings.

These little businesses felt like they’d been plucked out of a different location, the warm glow of the fluorescents glimmering through the large windows. Roy's favorite was a little bookstore that specializes in customer requests. They'd take a poll from an assortment of people to find out what they wanted and go from there.

Roy indulged in much of the literature they had to offer and the sweet family-run shop told him he was welcome to make any requests he wanted.

Ed would've salivated at the thought.

On the outskirts of the inner city lies the post office. It was never terribly busy which was a blessing so Roy had no trouble siddling up to the counter. 

"Well I'll be," the scruffy man at the counter whistled, "you're back again already."

Roy gave him a tired smile. "Glettner, I just don't want to miss the letter I'm supposed to be getting."

"I guess, but you don't live in the city so you gotta walk here." He shuddered. "Couldn't pay me to make that hike more than once a year and I've lived here for over a decade." 

"I want to be punctual."

Glettner rolled his eyes, but those eyes only held mirth in them. "Well Mr. Punctual, you're in luck, a letter for you arrived yesterday evening."

Roy wasn't sure what his reaction was but it garnered him a chuckle all the same. 

"Ah-ha!" Glettner cried victoriously and walked back over with the letter. "This person must really like you if they're willing to use four stamps and Express delivery." He shook his head. "Express is always so expensive.”

The letter in his hand was hefty with Ed’s tell-tale god awful handwriting on the front. He brought the letter close to his chest with a content hum. 

“Ugh,” Glettner whined, “Go read your letter somewhere else if you’re gonna be looking like that when you only read the cover.”

Roy sent him a flat look. “I’ll see you, Glettner,” Roy called over his shoulder, tucking the letter safely into his coat. “Stay warm.”

“Speak for yourself! Try not to get yourself killed walking to the post office you flame-brained moron.”

Glettner always did say the nicest things. 

Back in the relative safety of his cabin, Roy was able to settle down and open the letter. Carefully, he pulled the small bundle of papers jammed inside, out onto the table. Offhandedly he stoked the fire a little more with a snap of his fingers. 

Admittedly, he’d missed the ease that using his alchemy allowed him with certain tasks. 

Colonel Bastard,

Roy snorted and shook his head. He’d already told Ed he wasn’t a colonel anymore, but apparently, the fact hadn’t stuck in the shrimp’s mind. He wondered if Ed still had his infamous temper tantrums about his height. 

Something to find out later.

The other man seemed to have grown up a great deal in the past two years, but Roy doubted Ed would’ve been able to calm himself down when it came to his height and the lack thereof.

I hope this gets to you fast, and that you haven’t frozen solid up there. Havoc told me about your cabin and I’ll be honest: sounds shitty. But they did say you had a fireplace so maybe it isn’t too bad as long as you don’t move from in front of the fire. Though now that I know what your job entails I can honestly say that you might be fucked. 

Seriously, who wants to stand out in all that snow to watch for potential attacks from Drachma? That’s what Briggs is for. So get your ass back here before your ass freezes to a chair or something. 

He couldn’t stop the laugh that burst from him. The letter was just wholly Ed and it almost felt like the other man was here in person. 

Al wants me to tell you he says hi, so that’s from him. He’s doing okay, he’s kinda got everything figured out now. I mean he obviously did before, he was doing fine while I was gone. He’s made a name for himself even if he did kinda steal my look. 

He doesn’t need me anymore. 

The ink is smudged and blurred in spots and Roy’s heart clenched in his chest when he realized that those were probably tears. 

I expected it and I’m glad he was able to keep moving forward with everyone’s help. I don’t know. I guess I didn’t realize how that’d make me feel when you were here. You’re kinda distracting even when Al’s around.

No higher praise than being able to pull Ed’s attention away from his little brother. 

Resembool is the same, which is weird. Germany seemed to change every day. There were always new people coming through or some kind of showcase going on. Did I tell you about the rocket we were building? It’s hard to remember that I’m no longer in a world governed by the laws of “modern science” instead of Alchemy.

I wish you were here. I miss your stupid, smug face. 

Oh did he ache for Ed to be able to insult him in person. 

It’s your turn to write a letter.

-Edward Elric

Beside his name, Ed had drawn what he assumed was a self-portrait of him sticking his tongue out in a cartoonish style. Charming.

Roy set the letter on the table and rubbed at his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. Somehow, the letter only made him miss Ed more. He wanted to ease Ed’s worries and reassure him that he was needed. 

Well, he had a letter to write.

--

Fullmetal,

I thought telling you four times was enough, but maybe your ears were too tiny to hear me correctly. I’m not a colonel anymore so the name isn’t correct. Haven’t we known each other long enough to be a little less informal?

You’re right, it’s freezing up here, and staying warm is near impossible without the fire. I wear two layers of wool socks and I’m still wary that I’m going to get frostbite on one of my watches. 

Briggs is in charge of guarding our border. I’m just in charge of keeping watch on the trading routes that weave along the mountain valley for any sign of trouble. 

Al may not need you in the same capacity that he did, but I guarantee he’s happier than he’s been in the last two years now that you’re here. From what I’ve heard from both Hawkeye and Miss Rockbell, he always seemed to be looking over his shoulder for you when he’d accomplish anything. 

You are absolutely needed, and not just by Al. Never forget that Edward. 

Small towns don’t change often so I’m not surprised it seems the same. People grow older, but small towns keep to themselves for the most part. Every once in a while fresh meat joins the community and they’ll be a stir and things might change a little, but generally go back to normal quickly. 

City life is vivacious and ever-changing. A bigger place and more people means more changes. My aunt runs a bar and I remember how often the city would change around us. 

If by rocket you mean the one you released into that crowd of people, then yes I remember you telling me about it. But feel free to tell me again, you have a knack for storytelling that I didn’t think you’d have. 

I wish you were here too. I miss your impish face. 

-Roy Mustang

--

A week later, Roy received his second letter. 

Glettner gave him a wry grin and presented it to him with a flourish. “Your sweetheart replied,” he tittered, “should ask for a lock of hair in your next letter or a care package.” He winked at Roy. “Maybe something for those long, lonely nights.”

“Get your mind out of the gutter,” Roy grouched, “it’s not from a lover.”

Glettner sighed dramatically. “Well, certainly not with that attitude! You’re clearly pining, can’t you see it?”

He raised his only visible eyebrow at the man. “Really?”

The other man waved him off. “Nevermind, just get out of here. I’ll see you in a day or so.”

“Take care, Glettner.”

“Yeah, yeah, go read your damn letter.”

--

Bastard,

FUCK YOU, I GREW. 

Not that much Ed, Roy thought with a chuckle. 

I hope that’s a better name for you. And I’m not Fullmetal anymore, not really. Sure plenty of people are going to keep calling me that, but I’m not part of the military right now. Still gotta prove I’m not dead and shit. 

Do you know how hard it is to try to reinstate documents after they’ve listed you as dead? I was literally two seconds away from straight-up murdering a lawyer who was at city hall because he kept saying I needed more identification. Which is bullshit because I’m DEAD to the government. 

This would’ve been really handy when Al and I were running from the military, though. But not now! Luckily, it is being sorted out and I shouldn’t have to wait much longer before I have all my documentation in order.

That was good. Ed had just started the whole process when he left to return to his post and it’d given him a headache just thinking about it. 

So you lived with your aunt? Did you grow up in Central?

As much as I’ve traveled, I’m a hick at heart. I still enjoy the peace and quiet of the countryside more than the noise and life of the city. I can live in either though. 

A corner of his mouth lifts. Ed preferred anywhere he could read and learn without interruptions. That hadn’t changed.

Are you lonely up there by yourself? I feel like you’re probably spending way too much time criticizing all your past actions and moping. Fuck that. Tell me about something you want to do when you come back to Central. What’s on Roy “Smug Bastard” Mustang’s agenda?

-Ed

Oh, and thanks for saying that. I think I needed to hear that from someone. I’m glad it was you.

--

Ed,

I guess if you can so kindly call me something else, I can just use your name. And as much as I appreciate your affectionate nickname for me, you can just call me Mustang or even just Roy, it wouldn’t bother me at all. But if you insist on a nickname I suppose I can give you one too, shorty.

I haven’t had to deal with retracting a declaration of the deceased before so I honestly don’t have any advice for you. I’d suggest going through all the hoops that they line up for you to jump through even if a shortcut looks promising. Other people were claiming to be you for fame or what-have-you so they aren’t intentionally trying to be difficult. 

Why am I not surprised you actually thought about how useful the situation would’ve been back then… Maybe you’re getting predictable. 

I did grow up with my aunt as my legal guardian. Both of my parents passed away when I was a young boy and she took me in. It was a rocky start. I was mourning my parents and terrified of my new living situation. But Chris Mustang always did her best to make sure I was comfortable and taken care of whether it was food or new clothes.

But she also put me to work. I obviously couldn’t work at the bar, but I bused tables and cleaned the place once we closed for the night. 

Her bar doubled as an information network with her girls -- my sisters-- acting as spies while going about their business. People talk a lot during sex and will let their guard down if they feel comfortable. I learned my networking strategies from them.

I don’t know if I can imagine you as the typical hick. It’s something about all that rage and attitude that makes me think more of small town punks. But there is something nice about the quiet of the countryside.

It’s not I’m not I suppose I am a bit lonely out here. I don’t really have much communication to speak of besides your letters. They’re the highlight of my days. The only other person I normally talk to right now is the man who runs the post office. I feel like I’m disconnected from people nowadays. Whether that’s because I was part of a coupe that unsettled them or my demeanor is just off-putting. Let me know what you think. 

When I get back to Central, the first thing I want to do is look for an apartment. Then I’m not sure. Maybe go back to pursuing the title of Fruher. After the whole Homunculus debacle, I stepped down in a rush to… run as far away from what had happened as I could. 

After that… would you like to go out sometime? Get something to drink, eat a good meal with good company?

You’re probably going to have to fight to spend time with me at first. The team kept reminding me that when I was there that they missed me. But I’ll make plenty of time for you.

-Roy

--

“Roy, you have a package,” Glettner commented the third time he came into the post office that week. “Did you take my advice and ask for a token from them?” He leaned over the counter with a lewd grin. “There’s no telling what’s in here.”

Roy huffed and held out his hand. “Box, Glettner,” Roy ordered. He thought Glettner was funny and the man reminded him of an older, grayer Havoc with all his teasing and good-natured ribbing. It made him miss his team, though.

Glettner deposited the box in his hands before holding out a box cutter, handle-first to Roy. “Can I convince you to open it here? I can even let you use the back room for some privacy if you want.”

Roy shook his head with a put-upon grin. “You seem more excited about this package than I am.”

He shrugged “I don’t think you realize how boring it can get here. Usually the most exciting thing I get in this place is the military personnel transferring sensitive documents.” He scrunched his nose. “I don’t know, guess the whole thing makes my romantic heart sing.”

“You trying to get me to feel sorry for you so I’ll open the package here?”

“That depends, is it working?”

He chuckled softly, shaking his head. “Fine, take me to your backroom.”

Glettner threw a fist in the air and gestured to a door on the right. “Follow me, lover-boy.”

He grumbled but followed after the perky man. They weaved through the stacks of boxes and came across a desk. Glettner shoved a few papers to the side so Roy had a spot to put his package on. 

Roy set his box down and carefully ran the knife along the taped edges. He shifted through the newspaper that’d been carefully positioned around the gift. 

And what a gift it was. 

Nestled inside the box was a phone that was almost the exact one that’d sat on his old desk. He gently pulled it out of its protective paper. Now that he could see it fully he noted the wear on some of the parts. The rotary dial was a polished bronze and looked to be the newest piece on the phone. The body of the phone consisted of a few welded pieces of metal but the job was near seamless so unless Ed knew someone who could weld, he’d probably done it himself with alchemy.

He thumbed at the handset and couldn’t stop the grin that spread across his face. It felt like the same metal as Ed’s new arm was made of and he knew Ed had made that choice on purpose. 

“They sent you a phone?” Glettner asked, interrupting Roy’s casual admiration of his gift. 

“I’m pretty sure it’s so we can call each other in case we don’t want to wait for the mail system to deliver our messages,” Roy explained. 

The other man turned his attention to him sharply. “So I won’t see you anymore?”

Roy shook his head. “No, you’ll still have to see me,” he nodded his head at the phone, “Even with a phone I won’t have a guaranteed connection with where I am, but it gives us the option if we…” He paused, his smile going from soft to joyful, “to hear each other’s voice.”

“Aw fuck,” Glettner sniffled, “you’ve got that mushy look on your face.”

Roy’s face closed off. “Better?”

The postman shook his head. “I think whatever you two are, it makes you better.” He rubbed at his nose and shrugged. “Take that as you will.”

--

Setting up the phone was relatively easy after he finagled a makeshift antenna to the roof of the cabin. He’d picked up a few pieces of scrap steel and transported his load back to his cabin. With a quick transmutation, he’d constructed an antenna that would ideally not break if the storms got bad. 

Ed had suggested he use steel in his letter and if he trusted anyone when it came to metal knowledge it’d be the Fullmetal Alchemist, Edward Elric.

He glanced over at the letter he’d set on the table and reread what Ed had written.

… Winry and Al pointed out to me that I could be calling you if I didn’t want to wait to get a letter. But when I asked Riza how to call you she told me you didn’t have one.

What kind of bullshit is that? I figure everyone has a phone but then you get relocated and haven’t bothered to get a phone in the two years you’ve been gone?

There's a large inkblot on the dot of his question mark as if Ed had paused to gather his thoughts but forgotten to pick up his pen.

 Sounds like you were in a bad place. 

Ed had always had a special gift of understanding why Roy did what he did. Even more so now that he'd matured more and had gone through a similar mindstate.

I get that. I’ve been there. But I’m taking away some of this forced isolation you’ve coveted for yourself. 

I’m not telling you that you have to start talking to people now that you have a phone, but try. You may have lost an eye, but you aren’t blind. And you have tons of people who care about you and I know you can see that so don’t keep shutting them out.

Like that. 

Everyone else had given him ample space to adjust to his vision change and his disillusionment of the government he'd put so much time and effort into. But that space became hard to contain and soon he'd pushed almost everyone behind the protective wall he'd crafted for himself. 

He needed someone to tell him that what he was doing couldn't-- nor should it-- continue. 

I’ve written everyone’s number down on the back of this letter just in case you forgot, old man. I hijacked the Rockbell’s landline so I can have a phone in my room. Feel free to call whenever after seven. 

I don't care if it's ass o'clock in the morning, call me if you need me or wanna talk or whatever. 

Talk to you soon, hopefully.

-Ed

He didn't use the phone for a good three hours until the hands on the clock were just shy of eleven. He tried two fingers of scotch to help him sleep, but it left a smoky aftertaste in his mouth that brought up too many memories of being a walking crematorium. 

He finished spinning the dial and waited for the call to be picked up or ignored. It wasn’t that he thought Ed was lying about being able to call whenever, but Ed couldn’t guarantee he’d be by the phone at all times.

There was a click and then a familiar voice echoing through the receiver. “Rockbell Automail, the store hours are from 9 a.m. to 6 p.m. but if this is an emergency we’ll see what we can do,” Ed recited before continuing with a knowing tone, “Unless this is a certain soldier out in the middle of nowhere up North who received his package and decided to give me a call.”

Roy wasn’t one you would call a religious man, but he considered praying for patience. “Hello, Edward,” he conceded. 

“Fuck… holy fuck Roy,” Ed said with the sort of casual blasphemy only he would dare. There was a shuffling on the other end of the line. “You actually called.”

“Time hasn’t made you any less explicit,” Roy teased. He imagined a metal middle finger jerked at him in return. 

“It’s been what? A month?” Ed snorted, “If my cursing hasn’t changed since I was a kid then a month has no chance of changing it.”

He grinned and propped his head up with his hand. “You’re right about that.” He looked around the room for something to focus on, landing on Ed’s letter. “How are you?” The question came out softer than he’d like, but it’s what he meant.

Ed made a noncommittal noise. “It’s weird. The old lady and Winry keep treating me like I’m still a little kid. Maybe it’s because they didn’t get to see me grow up over the last two years. But they’re doing their best to adjust.”

Roy hummed in understanding. “It’s not dissimilar to a person coming back from deployment. They know the person who left, not necessarily the person who comes back.”

“Yeah, I guess… It’s still taking some getting used to. How come you didn’t treat me like I was the teen you last saw?”

“You’re a brat, but it was easy to see you’d changed.” That golden hair pulled back into a ponytail instead of his signature braid. The broad shoulders that filled out his brown trenchcoat and the bookish outfit underneath. He might mourn the loss of the man’s leather pants, but he looked every inch of the man he’d become. His thoughts made him brave. “You’ve become quite the looker, Ed.”

A sputter from the other line had Roy chuckling into his shoulder. It’s enchanting to hear Ed’s embarrassment over the phone and a longing yawned in his chest to see the ruby flush against the man’s cheeks. To see the way he’d turn incredulous eyes to gawk at Roy like he’d spoken gibberish. To see Ed fight the smile that’d reveal his teeth in joy instead of a threat.

He just wanted Ed. Here, with him. Or him with Ed. Together. 

Glettner was more aware of Roy’s feelings than he was.

“-up! I hope you’re not mocking me you ass,” Ed grumbleing finally making it through Roy’s thoughts. 

“I’m not mocking you, you really are beautiful.”

The line remained silent for a stretch and Roy wondered briefly if he’d pushed Ed a little too much. That he’d made the man uncomfortable with his sudden forwardness. 

“You look pretty good yourself,” Ed mumbled.

His heart skipped a beat in his chest and his cheeks grew warm. “Not much to look at compared to you,” Roy managed to say.

“Yeah, okay, sure,” the eye roll unmistakably tacked onto the statement. “I’m guessing you couldn’t sleep.”

“Couldn’t I have called you because I wanted to hear your voice?”

Ed actually laughed at that. “You could and I’m flattered, bastard, but I can hear the exhaustion in your voice.”

“Alright, yes I can’t sleep.” 

“What do you want me to do about that?”

What indeed. He already felt better after hearing Ed’s voice so perhaps more of that? “Tell me about your day.”

“As long as you're willing to pay anything the Rockbell’s might be charged for the long-distance call, I’ll talk all night.”

“Just until I fall asleep should do the trick.”

“Well get comfy and I’ll tell you about my return to city hall.”

Roy settled as comfortably as he could on his couch and closed his eyes, letting himself drift upon the lilts and steadiness of Ed’s voice. 

--

As they reach the two-month mark of their separation, Roy was getting antsy. His transfer back to Central seemed to be in a stalemate. Too much silence from both sides for Roy’s patience to tolerate. He already sent another letter to Ed to inform him that he still didn’t have a timeframe for his return. 

With no set date for his relocation, he got wrapped up in his thoughts. The snow bit angrily at his cheeks and he’d started moving his post office trips to every three days because he couldn’t get his body to plow through the snow. The cabin’s walls were thin and the flames fanned uselessly in the fireplace no matter how close Roy put himself to the heat source. 

Loneliness he’d been able to ignore for years was near intolerable now. He’d talked to his team, reconnected with Riza, or at least started mending the relationship that’d been damaged in the wake of Bradley’s defeat and the loss of his eye.

But ever since his realization during the phone call with Ed, nothing seemed to fill the Ed-sized space in his heart. He pondered on the feelings he’d developed for Ed, questioned why he loves him but only came up with Ed himself as the reason. 

He took a sip of his tea when he heard a knock on his door. 

The suddenness of the noise was enough to startle him into almost dropping his mug and he turned a wary eye to his door. He didn’t get visitors, not out here. The only time anyone had visited him it’d been about the strange phenomenon that ultimately led to Ed returning home to them. 

He doubted something that severe would pop-up again in such a short span of time, but stranger things had happened so he couldn’t rule out the possibility. 

Slipping on his gloves, he cautiously approached the door. He waited until he heard another knock before he openned the door, his fingers poised to snap.

And there’s Ed.

Snow and ice clung to his clothes and he noted that Ed’s trench coat seemed to now be lined with a fur of some kind. He took in Ed’s wind-chafed skin and red nose, saw the ice crystals that had attempted to attach themselves to his lashes. 

This couldn’t be real. He must’ve fallen asleep and he’s dreaming. He had to be. 

Except Ed was waving his hand obnoxiously in his face, grinning at him with the pride of a show dog. “You still in there or did I break you?” Ed asked.

He gaped uselessly at the figure that stood in front of him. “Ed?” He rasped, still not believing his eyes. 

“The one and only.” He tilted his head to the side, his smile going lazy. “Are you gonna make me stay out here much longer? Because I’m pretty sure my toes have fucking frozen off and I only have five. I really can’t lose them.”

Roy snapped his jaw shut with a click and stepped back to let Ed in. “Yeah, of course, come in.”

Ed blustered in with all the hesitation of a tornado, stripping out of his dripping coat and unwinding the scarf from around his neck, hanging both over his kitchen table. 

“Thank fuck you have a fireplace,” Ed grunted, holding both of his hands out towards the heat source. “If Winry and Granny hadn’t hooked me up with this new automail I would’ve really gotten frostbite.”

Roy nodded absent-mindedly, still stuck on the reality that Ed was here in his cabin. “How-How did you get here?”

Ed’s forehead furrowed. “Well after I took a train up here I asked around if anyone knew where I’d find a soldier with an eyepatch, the postman pointed me in the right direction.” He shrugged. “Then I walked here.”

He'd have to thank Glettner the next time he saw him. Or avoid him at all cost because the man was never going to let him live this down. He probably felt like he was some sort of matchmaker, guaranteeing Ed made it to him.

“Through all the snow?”

The man squinted at him. “Yes?” It came out as a question more than an answer. “Are you okay? You’re really stuck on this whole ‘Ed’s here with me’ thing.” 

And what’s he supposed to say to that? That he’s still convinced that this could only be a dream because this sort of thing doesn’t happen to him. “I just never expected you to come here.”

He gets a bemused expression from Ed for that. “Why not? I got your letter.” He huffed and lounged on his couch. “So they can’t even give you a date?”

He shook his head. “Not now, maybe in a week or two, I’ll get an answer from them.” Roy shuffled awkwardly for a moment trying to decide what to say. “Do you want some tea?”

Ed snorted, his nose crinkling. “I could go for some tea, but I’m fine with something stronger if you've got it.”

He cocked his head to the side and crossed his arms. “Don’t you mean if I’m feeling generous?”

“Nope,” Ed chimed.

“Let’s start with tea,” Roy snagged the only other mug he owned and poured Ed a cup, “get you warm first. After that?” He handed the mug to Ed who took it gratefully. “We’ll see about alcohol.”

Humming in agreement Ed took an aborted sip, cursing as the liquid scorched his tongue. “Fuck, dammit you could’ve warned me it was this hot,” Ed grumbled, glaring at his mug. 

“I didn’t know you were expecting cold tea.”

“Bastard.”

“Brat.”

The jibes were gentle despite themselves and Roy felt the familiar contentment in his being that he’d been getting when he was with Ed in any capacity. Whether it’s a phone call or in-person or even in a letter. Ed remained a stained glass masterpiece in his heart.

They sat in campanionable silence. The flickering of the fireplace casted a red glow around the room except for Ed. Ed’s always an exception. Instead of the red overlay across Ed, he glowed gold. 

His skin -- tanned and scarred-- reminded Roy of wedding rings and sun-warmed bronze. His eyes of finely crafted jewelry and the lace-gold details in famous paintings from the west. And his hair. The finest silk, bundled into a ponytail that trailed to at least the bottom of his shoulder blades.

He desperately wanted to say something to hear more of Ed’s voice. A voice that had haunted his mind for the past two years. A desperation to take, take, take until he had all of Ed. 

“I didn’t get to say this before,” Ed said, finally breaking their silence. “But I’m a fan of the eyepatch.”

From anyone else, he would’ve ignored the comment, but Roy knew that Ed was being serious right now. “It was a necessity after Bradley got it,” Roy said, setting his cup down and bringing a hand to the patch. “It isn’t a pretty sight, even Hawkeye had trouble looking at it.”

“I doubt that,” Ed took another sip from his drink, “if anything she probably still feels guilty that you lost it at all.”

He made a noncommittal noise. “No one should feel guilty about this, I got it taking Bradley down. And I survived.”

“You did.” Ed grinned at him. “And I think the patch makes you look rugged.”

Roy snorted and quirked a brow at him. “Sure that’s not just from living out here for the past two years?”

Ed’s eyes rolled so hard that Roy’s surprised they didn’t just pop out of his skull. “You haven’t grown any stupid facial hair yet so I’d say it’s the patch.”

“You don’t think I’d look good with facial hair?”

The tips of Ed’s ears flushed. “I didn’t say that,” he mumbled, “I am saying you’d look god awful with a moustache.” 

There is a niggling temptation to grow one just to get on Ed's nerves but he pushed that thought aside. He heaved a dramatic sigh. "I suppose I'll refrain for now." 

Ed laughed and it reverberated through him with the warmth of an embrace. He wanted to bottle the noise up and tuck it into the spaces between his ribs. Roy couldn't remember the last time he felt this content.

The other man was still looking at him when he focused back on their conversation. "Can I see it?"

Roy’s face closed off and he shifted awkwardly on the couch. “You… you want to see it?” He clarified because surely he'd heard wrong.

Ed shrugged and scooted a little closer. “Why wouldn’t I?”

He asked like it should be obvious to Roy, but doesn’t comment on it. Roy couldn't bring himself to deny Ed something that Roy was readily willing to give. Wanted to give. And maybe there's a small part of him that wanted to show someone. To not have someone shy away from the topic. To look at all of him now and not who he was before. 

Maybe he didn't just leave Central because he wanted to still help his country through a corrupt system.

Maybe he was tired of hiding.

He reached his hand up towards the strings that held his eyepatch in place but hesitates. "Are you sure you want to see it?" He wondered if he would want to see it if this was someone else. He knew for sure that he’d want to see Ed. Roy swore to himself that he’d never hesitate to look at Ed’s scars, not a single one of them would be skipped by his eyes.

Ed's eyes softened and he moved himself closer to Roy. They were barely a foot away from the other, their knees knocking together. The solid press of Ed’s automail knee against his own was surprisingly grounding. He wonderd if anyone else felt this way about Ed’s prosthetic limbs.

Ed didn't hesitate when he cupped Roy's face with his metal hand. He expected the harsh metal to be icy to the touch – unlike his leg that was still covered by the thick material of Ed’s pants – but it was heat-licked by the fire. Roy couldn't help but lean into the touch with a pleased sigh.

Mirth twinkled in Ed's eyes like honeyed gold. He ran his thumb along the bottom edge of his eyepatch. "I'm sure."

I want to see you. That’s what Roy heard inbetween Ed’s words. It didn't need to be said. Ed had already proven his surety with his touch, but it comforted Roy to hear it all the same. 

The satin ties of his eyepatch were easy enough to undo after he loosened the knot and soon the patch was fluttering down into his lap. He kept the eye closed for now, letting Ed see the mess of scars from the enucleation and trauma from Bradley’s blade. He watched Ed’s face for any reaction through his good eye, watching as he took in his face as a whole.

The first brush of Ed’s metal hand on the scars had him letting out a shuddering breath. His heart was pounding erratically in his chest and he couldn’t stop his sudden panic. It’s just Ed. Edward was the only one here with him. It’s just them. Together. Here. Now and not then. This steel was warm and nothing like the biting edge of a blade.

A second hand joined the first, this one with calluses and worn nails that worked their way through his hair. Instantly, he found himself relaxing under the ministrations of Ed’s talented fingers. Losing time or just forgetting everything that wassn’t Edward Elric.

“Come on, lemme see those eyes of yours, Colonel Bastard,” Ed urged, his thumb teasing along Roy’s cheekbone.

Despite himself, Roy found himself smiling. “Not a colonel anymore, Fullmetal,” he reminded Ed, “and I only have one eye.”

“Not Fullmetal anymore, Roy.”

He could hear his name on Ed’s lips for the rest of his life and Roy would never stop feeling his heart skip a beat. “Ed.”

Slowly, he opened both of his eyes and went back to watching Ed’s face. The breath hitched in Ed’s lungs for only a second before it settled back to normal. Roy couldn’t blame him. The clear conformer that prevented his eyelid from collapsing into the socket gave a clear view of the hollow interior. He hadn’t bothered getting a prosthetic eye, not when he’d been out here by himself for so long. His doctors still weren’t sure when he would even be able to wear one given the damage done to his eyelid and ocular cavity.

Instead of the multitude of reactions that Roy had prepared himself for, Ed gave him a gentle smile and cupped his face with both hands. “There you are.”

“How do I look?” Roy asked as though he couldn’t see the way Ed looks at him.

Maybe he couldn’t, because there’s a touch of uncertainty to Roy’s question that he couldn’t write off. Whether it’s over the way the scars mar his handsome face or over what Ed might think about his appearance, Roy couldn’t decide.

“Like you can take on the world,” Ed said without hesitation.

Stealing himself, Roy closed the distance between them and sealed their mouths together. Ed’s lips are chapped from his journey through the snow, but warm and solid against his own. He didn’t intensify the kiss, keeping it chaste since Ed hadn’t started to kiss him back. 

Reluctantly, he pulled away from Ed trying to catch the younger man’s eyes. Did he ruin this? “Ed?”

“Kiss me again,” Ed ordered but didn’t bother waiting for Roy to act, instead grabbing two handfuls of his shirt and smashing their lips together.

It’s messy, too much tongue and their teeth clack painfully against each other like Ed wanted to devour him, but he dived right in. He took control of the kiss, guiding Ed’s lips to slide against his own at a more sedate pace. The corners of his mouth turned up when Ed sighed against his mouth, a near-silent moan escaping him. 

Roy trailed a hand up Ed’s back until he reached the end of the man’s ponytail. He wrapped the silken strands around his fingers and tugged lightly. Ed splayed his hands against the plains of his chest, releasing his shirt from his grasp. 

When he found himself desperate for oxygen, he pulled away once more. Ed made a displeased groan but sat back enough to stare at Roy.

The affection and happiness that sparkled in Ed’s eyes was overwhelming and he couldn’t help but tell Ed exactly how he felt. “I think I love you,” Roy whispered.

Ed smiled back at him, his lips kiss-bruised and tempting. “Why do you think I’m here, Roy?” 

He didn’t have to say it because Ed always showed you how he felt. So when Ed tilted his head back, Roy capitulates to the silent request, sealing their mouths together again.

A flame captured by the glint of gold and steel.

[shanastoryteller]

in another life

(written as a thank you for @another-annon)

~

Two brothers seperated from the rest, a country limping along, a plaything with a missing eye and a broken heart.

This isn’t fun at all. Truth wants to have fun.

It looks down at the world its created, at he destruction and chaos and pain. It’s not as satisfying as he hoped it’d be.

“Again,” it says, giving a lipless grin as its voice send out echoes, waiting.

Ripples shift and bend, pushing time back to the start.

~

Roy wakes up crying. That’s not too unusual, so he runs his hands over his face to wipe the tears out of his eyes.

Wait.

His eyes.

He stumbles to his feet, nearly tripping over his feet as he runs to the bathroom. It takes him a moment, staring at confusion at a bare living room, before he realizes his bathroom has moved. What the fuck. He trips in, flicking on the light.

He has two eyes. And he’s young, so painfully young. Is he even drinking age?  He sure hopes so, because he really feels like he needs a drink. He runs his hand over his smooth chin, and well, okay, maybe not.

“Roooooooy!” sing songs a familiar voice, and oh no, he really is in the past somewhere. “Wake up, it’s time for breakfast!”

Vanessa as an adult is terrifying. As a teenager, she’s what nightmares are made of.

He scrambles for a pen and paper, throws some clothes in a backpack, and leaves a note for his mother.

Madame, have to go off and save the world. Will be back. Love you.

~

The first thing he has to do is find Maes, obviously. It’s a bit of a problem that they don’t know each other yet, but he has a solution for that.

He waits until he’s walking home from school, grabs him by the back of his shirt, pulls him into an alley, and shoves him against the brick wall. “I don’t have any money!” Maes says, eyes wide behind his glasses. “Check my pockets, I don’t have anything, really.”

“I’m not dumb, I know you. The second I loosen my grip you’ll have a knife at my throat.” Maes wasn’t so much borne of war as born ready for it. He loses his scared facade and raises an eyebrow. “I know you think about cutting out your father’s throat every time he raises his hand to your mother, that you cheat on all your math tests, that you have a crush on John in your chemistry class, and that you tear pictures of places you’d like to visit out of magazines and keep them tucked in the back of your closet.”

Maes’s curious look has morphed into a fascinated kind of horror. “Who are you? How do you know that?”

“I’m your best friend,” Roy tells him, “and I need your help to stop a war before it starts.”

~

Maes can’t resist that, so he goes with him. Roy knows how to make money on the road, even as a not quite eighteen year old, and he’s incredibly pleased to teach Maes how to hustle pool instead of the other way around. He’s still better than Roy at poker, even with a decade’s less experience, and that only stings a little.

Eventually, they make their way to General Grumman.

Roy’s not stupid enough to think they can do this on their own. So he gets a little help.

~

Things move fast after that, because they have to. Stopping a war is no easy task. There’s hunting down the homonculi, finding and killing Dante, finding that damn Ishvalan and Izumi Curtis and telling them exactly what will happen if they attempt human transmutation.

It’s too early to go after the Elrics. But this time, he won’t be too late.

He’s twenty years old and high off his success, off the war that isn’t happening and all the lives they’ve managed to save. Maes is laughing as he tugs him close and slots their mouths together.

For a moment, Roy freezes. He thinks of Gracis and Elysia, thinks of Edward. Thinks of the love that beats beneath his breastbone for his younger lover, for the fire in Ed’s eyes that he wouldn’t be able to tame even if he wanted to.

Then that moment breaks and he’s surging forward, licking into Maes’s mouth and biting at his lip.

That life is gone. That world is gone. This is the one he has, and he’s not going to waste it.

~

It doesn’t work the same for the others.

Ed and Winry are four and Al is three when they all start getting nightmares about horrors that none of their parents can explain.

Then one day they all wake up, and all the nightmares make sense, and they remember everything.

The first thing Ed and Al do is go to their father’s office. “Hello boys,” he says, and with older eyes Ed can see the way his lips tip up at the corners, the way he softens when he sees them, all these things he hadn’t noticed when he was actually a child.

They both silently crawl into his lap and they each grab a pen. He laughs, leaning back in the chair and letting them scrawl over his notebook.

They know the exact moment he realizes what they’re drawing. He tenses and sucks in a deep breath. “How-”

“If you leave, Momma gets sick and dies. This is the circle we used to try and bring her back,” Ed says, tapping the left page.

“We know more than we did before,” Al says, and points at the circle on the right page. “This is the one we’ll use to bring her back if you leave us again.”

They wouldn’t, even if it might work, they learned their lesson the first time. But their dad doesn’t need to know that.

~

Hohenheim doesn’t leave, and they don’t tell Trisha what they are, how they’re her sons but not the innocent little boys she thought they were. When she gets a cough and starts feeling dizzy, Hohenheim is there. He uses the philosopher’s stone to heal her, and Ed and Al can finally breathe easy.

Winry’s problems aren’t so easy to fix. Her nightmares don’t stop.

She loves her parents, and she knows their dedication to their duty, to their work. She knows it because she’s just the same, she’s a doctor that’s walked into more than one warzone with her head held high. Even if she tells them everything, tells them that they’ll die in that war - she doesn’t think it will change anything at all.

They went to war knowing that they could die, but believing their work was more important than their lives.

The part of her that’s their daughter wants to hold them close and never let them go.

The part of her that’s a doctor knows where they’re going is where they need to be, even if it kills them.

So she waits, and wonders, as time marches on.

There’s no war.

One day Ed and Al crawl into her window and Al says, “Grumman is the Fuhrer here!”

“Huh,” she says, something dangerously like hope in her chest.

Time passes, and there’s no war to take her parents away from her.

~

Ling doesn’t get any warnings, like dreams, and he doesn’t even get a nice smooth transition between sleeping and awake.

He’s walking down the hall of the palace, ignoring his mother’s lecture on why he needs to focus on his studies, when he trips, flips before he can fall, then says, “Motherfucker.”

“Ling!” his mother exclaims, “When did you learn how to curse in Amestrian? What are those tutors teaching you, honestly!”

“Sorry,” he says, mind racing.

He’s not the emperor here. He’s not immortal here.

Does he still want to be?

The immortal bit he can take or leave, but the emperor part? Oh, yeah, that he wants.

~

Roy considers joining the military again. He knows it. He’s good at it.

But in this world, he doesn’t have any sins to suffer for.

“I think I want to be a professor,” he says, head on Maes’s chest. “I can be your army wife.”

Maes laughs and leans down to kiss his forehead. “Whatever you want, darling.”

~

Ed and Al don’t join the military. Instead they do what they forbade their father to do.

They go traveling.

“Xing?” Ed asks, grinning, “Or Drachma?”

“Xing,” Al says firmly. “At least there I know the language.”

“Well, I don’t know either language,” Winry says, tossing an arm around each of their shoulders. “But I never did get my hands on the Xingese alloys.”

They’re in a middle of nowhere town in Xing when a familiar grinning face swings through their window. “Hello,” Ling says. “I’m making a bid for the throne. Want to help?”

And they don’t understand how Ling knows or remembers, but it doesn’t matter, he’s their friend, and well, their lives have been a little boring.

Of course they help.

“Don’t go,” Ling says when it’s all over, his hand tangled in Ed’s, dark eyes imploring. “Stay here. With me.”

“I,” Ed starts, heart in his throat.

Ling was his first in both worlds, and here, where they’re a little less broken, they fit in way they hadn’t before. But –

“Your general is probably out there, somewhere,” he acknowledges, because he knows Ed, knows what he’s thinking without him having to say it. “You could probably seduce him, if that’s what you want.”

He could, is the thing. But is it? He loved Roy almost more than anything in his old life, more than anyone besides Al maybe, but – the person Ed was, and the person Roy was –

Those people don’t exist anymore.

“Yeah,” he says, “but you’re here.”

It’s not exactly a ringing endorsement, but Ling knows him, so he beams, pulling him close for the kind of kiss that’ll leave the servants whispering around them for weeks.

~

Years later, Ed is in Amestris at a stuffy military function, forced to attend as the Prince Consort of Xing, which is the most annoying title he’s ever held.

“Fuhrer Hughes,” Ling says diplomatically, his hand on the small of Ed’s back.

“Emperor Ling,” Maes returns, and Ed never got to see him this age before, and it warms him to see the wrinkles in the edges of his eyes. “I of course know of your companion. My husband is a huge fan of your work, Prince Edward.”

“Is he?” Ed asks, finally bringing himself to meet Roy’s dark eyes. He looks good. He always looks good, but now he looks better, two eyes and looking younger now than when Ed met him the first time, without all that regret weighing him down. “I’ve read a few of his as well. Mr. Mustang, your strides in flame alchemy are well documented.”

“Thank you, but truly, you and your brother’s grasp of biological alchemy is unparalleled,” he says, perfectly polite.

~

Roy and Edward sneak glances at each other all night, and they both can’t help but think –

- in another life, perhaps.

[wheremytwinwatches]

[Where My Twin Watches]: Full Metal Alchemist Brotherhood Episode 7

So Sokka, where’s this episode taking place again?

Excellent! Let’s get started then!

Narrator recaps the encounter with Doc Marcoh, who revealed the existence of incomplete Philosopher’s Stones (which is a great writing move, now the Brothers can be going around hunting down Imperfect Stones rather than repeated episodes of “Damnit, another fake.”), and gave the location of his research. Now fixed up, Ed and Al are off to the First Branch of the National Central Library. Whoa, was expecting a title card and got Screaming Edward instead. What’s wrong? Ah. Seems that the library’s a bit… destroyed. When did this happen? Shot of Eastern Command, Lust is commenting that “burning the entire place down was easier.” Damnit, seems they got the location out of Marcoh and removed the lead while our characters were held up at the Rockbell’s. Now Lust and Gluttony are in East City, Lust checking in on Scar. Seems Gluttony has a very keen nose, he can smell the Ishvalan. Lust confirms that Gluttony can get his snack. Still confused about the animosity between the Goths and Scar. Whatever their plans, seems it would be easier for the Goths if there were fewer State Alchemists to get in their way. Or is it more that he’s a disruptive force, a distraction for their own plans? After all, if they do need Ed for some sort of sacrifice, Scar killing him would definitely mess things up. Episode 07: “Hidden Truths” Speaking of the Ishvalan, Scar’s still in the sewers, when he notices a bunch of rats fleeing past him. Looking back, there’s a pair of glowing red eyes in the darkness. Yup, that’s Gluttony with his creepy grin. Goth vs Vigilante fight? Wow, Gluttony’s pretty fast for a hefty guy. Scar prepares his Face Grab, but it’s not an instant kill as Gluttony grabs him. Scar ends that by straight-up slicing off the Goth’s arm. Wait, no blood? Suddenly Lust comes racing up, Scar barely has a moment to be surprised before an explosion sends our view back to the surface, big cloud of smoke pouring out over a river. Seems we’ll have to wait on that fight, we’re back to Riza reporting that Scar hasn’t been seen since his attack on the Elrics. Havoc suggests that he’s not in East City anymore, but Roy hopes that isn’t the case. If it’s gotten to be too much for Central, and he closes it quickly? Then he’ll “be golden.” Huh, didn’t think you were that much of a careerist, especially after you objected to Bradley giving you the credit in the first episode. Wow, Roy doesn’t dream small, does he. Aiming right for the office of Fuhrer. Further talk’s derailed by [Soldier 1] rushing in to report an explosion on the Marl River. Nearby Military Police speculate on what caused all the rubble, as the State Alchemists examine the bloody remains of Scar’s jacket. No body though, so I’m gonna assume he’s still alive. No way he’d be axed off this soon. And may I say how happy I am that it’s “by the book” for the State Alchemists to find hard proof someone’s dead before writing them off? No “Never Found The Body” for these guys! Hey! In the crowd, it’s the Goths! Pretty brazen, sticking around with the bystanders. Lust complains that Scar got away, while Gluttony’s more concerned he didn’t get his snack. Regardless, they assume that Scar will be out of the picture for now. Lust will head back to Central to report to Father. Meanwhile, the Elrics and Armstrong are looking through the destroyed library, when they’re approached by a Second Lieutenant Ross and Sergeant Brosh. Hey, it’s two more people from the intro? Also, Ross and Brosh? Calling it now, they’re either siblings or LI’s. Ross is here to pass on an order: Armstrong is to report back to Command Center, they’ll take over supervision of the Elrics. Nooo, don’t take away The Mighty Armstrong! Ed just complains that he keeps getting saddled with bodyguards. Driving away, Ross comments that there was a woman who was well acquainted with the materials of the ex-library. Although she wasn’t working there anymore. Well, it’s more than you had a minute ago Ed, don’t diss it. Brosh seems nervous, which Al picks up on. Scared of the Giant Fanged Suit of Armor sitting across from you? Or… is it the person sitting next to you, hmmm? Nah, it’s the armor, which he asks about. The Elrics claim it’s a hobby. Really guys? That’s a lame excuse, go back to the “It’s for training” you used in the first episode. Awkwardness all around. They arrive at what looks like an apartment building, and… oh. Oh my. Look at them. Look at all those books! Did this woman make her own library or something? I want them! The Alchemists sidle through the bookshelves, Brosh wondering if there’s actually someone living in the place. Ross calls out for Miss Sheska, Al catches on to a muffled “Please help me” down an aisle to a bunch of collapsed books. Well, at least the lady saved her glasses. A moment of frantic digging later, they uncover a lady who profusely thanks them and apologizes for getting trapped under the books. Yeah, might wanna work on your shelving technique, miss. Confirming that this is the Miss Sheska they came to meet, Ed asks about her working at the library, and she flinches at that? But then she springs into a Glittering Gushing Moment ala Armstrong and Winry, about how beautiful the word “library” is and how she’s loved books her whole entire life, how working in a library was heaven! Buuuuut she kinda forgot about the “work” part, spent all her time reading and got fired. And now she needs another job to move her poor, elderly mother to a better hospital. But all she can do is read! Woe, sadness, despair! ...ok, which one of you guys stuck a gender-bent me into this show? Ed snaps Sheska out of her despair by asking about Tim Marcoh, she recalls the name from some handwritten notes stuck in a bookshelf. Nice memory! And my growing suspicion is confirmed when she just asks if they want to read them. Where do you think all these books came from, Ed? Or rather, Sheska’s got a photographic memory, she remembers the content of any book she’s ever read. So she can write the notes out for them! “Thank you bookworm” indeed! And now, a table full of notes! Lady, why are you apologizing for taking five days? I’m surprised that table’s holding up under those stacks of paper, and all that was written from memory? Alchemists, if you don’t hire this girl for your own paperwork you’re idiots. But here they are, Tim Marcoh’s notes! Or rather… recipes? Oh. Ooooooh. I get it! But our characters don’t, they just complain about coming all that way for a cook book. Come on guys, it’s chemistry! Well, maybe Ed and Al get it, because after confirming the notes are completely accurate he thanks her, gathers the notes to take back to the library, and writes out a check for Sheska from his grant funds. Which going by Ross and Sheska’s reactions (“Did he miss a decimal point somewhere?!”) is not insubstantial. Guess being a skilled State Alchemist pays well. At another building (guess by library they meant one other than the destroyed one) Brosh is asking how the cookbooks can possibly be related to Alchemy. Ed explains that due to the danger of Alchemy being misused, the research is always encrypted. Come on Brosh, aren’t you a State Alchemist too? Shouldn’t you know this? Ed and Al get cracking on the decryption, such as comparing a “green tea” recipe to the “Green Lion” of metallurgic alchemy. Other names get thrown around, like Flamel (I recognize that one!) and Lambspring. Brosh clearly is out of his league. But it seems the Elrics may be as well, collapsed on the table with glazed expressions. Al’s even faceplanted so hard his helmet horn’s gone straight through the papers into the table. The suggestion of asking Marcoh about it comes up (yyyeah, don’t think that’s gonna work out), but Ed refuses to admit defeat. Hey, Sheska! She’s stopped by to thank the Elrics for the money. Although they haven’t had any luck deciphering the notes, and she hasn’t found another job yet, she’s happy to have helped out. And Al gives her an inspiring pep talk, nice to see her smiling. Sudden Hughes bursting in to visit the Elrics, admonishes Ed for not saying “Hey” when he came back to Central. Ross and Brosh mutter in shock about how the Elrics chat with Colonel (hey, did he get a promotion?) Hughes like an old friend. Just how high up are these boys? No, seriously, how high up are they? Do they have an official rank, or what? Asking for clarification. Hughes takes a seat, complaining about their case load, and the library burning down as well. Seems all their case reports were… stored in the stacks… Miss Sheska! You’re hired! The Elrics get back to work, delving through notes (Suddenly noticed that Ed’s writing with his left hand. Hadn’t caught that before). Meanwhile, Brosh keeps up on guard duty (“I’m awake!”) and comments that they’ve been at it for ten days now. Man, Doc was pretty thorough in his coding, wasn’t he? But at least they’re dedicated- “To hell with it!” Aw, no! Don’t give up! Ross and Brosh enter to a wrecked room, books and papers scattered everywhere as the Elrics sit on the floor. Come on, you guys can’t give up now. Wait, you did crack it? You cracked the code? That’s awesome! But why the frustration, then? Why does Al sound like he’s crying? Jeez, now Ed’s going on about how it’s the devil’s research, that it should have been destroyed. What on earth was in those notes? “The main ingredient for a Philosopher’s Stone… is human life.” No. NO. You have GOT to be kidding me! Not again. Not again!

Oh, but it gets worse. Ed’s saying that to make a single Stone takes multiple human sacrifices. Wow. Just, wow. So there we go. Philosopher’s Stones are made with human sacrifice. “For what could equal the value of a human soul” indeed. Stones aren’t about amplifying the power of the Alchemist after all, they’re about drawing on the power of others. Just… using others’ life as a freaking battery! And the Military authorized research into this? They signed off on research into human sacrifice as a power source? First genocide, now this? What the Leto is wrong with these people?! *Sigh* Ok, ok. Calming down, calming down… Ed asks Ross and Brosh to not say anything. Later that night, the two Alchemists appear to meet Armstrong in a hotel, informing him that the Brothers are “holed up” in their room again, and they haven’t been eating either. Well, yeah? I mean, they just discovered that the one hope they had for restoring their bodies could only come at an inhumane cost to others. How do you think you would have reacted in their place? Well, at least Ross and Brosh seem to be keeping their promise to not reveal the secret. Unfortunately, Armstrong catches on and is not pleased with their suspicious behavior. To say the least. Sorry. Trying to be funny, but still reeling from that reveal. Inside a dark room, Al says that Ed really should get something to eat, but Ed just says no. Ed goes on to talk about how they try so hard to grasp the truth, but it always slips away. Or rather, in their search for answers they got the worst possible one. Now Ed’s saying that there’s something he’s wanted to tell Al for a while, but he’s always been too afraid to say it. “I-” *SMASH* “Elric Brothers, I know you’re in there!” Ed decides to ignore him, followed immediately by The Mighty Armstrong completely smashing his way in. Yup, Ross and Brosh couldn’t hold out against the Major, he knows what the notes said. And he’s now Crying Majestically about how the Philosopher’s Stone is built on such a terrible secret. “Imagine the military being behind something like that! Often the truth is more cruel than we bargained for!” But Ed seizes on one word out of that: “Truth.” Is he thinking about the Demon and the Door? No, he seems to be banking on Marcoh’s mention of “truth within the truth”. Ed’s convinced that there has to be more to this. Ed, please. Please don’t take up false hope now. Armstrong’s going over a map, saying there are four Alchemy Labs in Central with ties to the government, and Marcoh worked in the third. So they have a place to look for more information. Wait, hold on. You knew there was a lab in this very city that Marcoh worked at? Why didn’t you go there to look for any of his notes earlier, see if they would help with deciphering the others? Talking about how he’s visited all the laboratories before, Ed points out a crossed-out building. Seems it was designed for a fifth lab, but it currently isn’t in use since the building isn’t structurally sound. Gee, an “empty” lab, classified off-limits? That’s not suspicious at all. As for more evidence towards it, right next door is a prison. Oh, I get it! If Philosopher Stones need multiple human sacrifices to make, you’d need a source of death, which would indicate either a death-sentence prison or… a hospital… Show. Show, listen to me. With all these mentions of Sheska’s mother going to a nicer hospital? Don’t you DARE follow that thread. Ahem. Ed clues them in on the use of “executed” prisoners to make the Stone. Yeesh, “potential to become a political nightmare” is an understatement, Armstrong. He’ll look into it tonight, in the meantime the other officers are to say nothing. And the Elrics are to behave themselves! Armstrong’s in full Scary Superior Mode, knowing full well that they were planning to sneak into the building and look around. The Elrics claim innocence- -before a smash-cut to them doing that exact thing. Yep, a guard posted at an “unused” building? That’s as obvious a sign as any. Since they can’t risk the light from Transmuting a hole in the wall, they have to settle for Ed getting tossed up to the top, and making a barbed-wire rope for Ed. Thank goodness for those metal arms! Door’s blocked, how are they going to get past that. Ed sees… no. Ed, NO. Do NOT go off on your own! Aaaargh! Edward Elric, you listen to me! You suspect that this building is a base for creating Philosopher Stones? Aka that thing that people are KILLED for? You are walking right into a horror movie, DO NOT split up! But of course he does. And he leaves a [DEJECTED] Alphonse behind, crying that he didn’t ask to get too big to fit through the vents. Shame on you, Ed. Shame on you. Inside, among shadows and fog, two voices speak, identified as [66] and [48]. Prisoners? Rather mutated ones, if that’s the case based on their shadowed forms. Ed’s still skulking through the vent, commenting on how small it is… “Oh no! I just called myself a tiny little pipsqueak!” While funny, this is not the time! Be quiet! Breaking out into a hallway, he notes that there are lights on. Yep, definitely “not currently in use”. Outside Al’s worried that Ed’s taking a while. Uh oh, looks like one of the Mutants on the roof, with a big knife. I mean, that won’t hurt Al, right? Right?! Aaaand end credits. Damn it! Ok, well this was one heck of an episode. Learning the secret of Philosopher Stones? The return of “souls as batteries”? That was not a pleasant surprise. If one good thing has come out of this, it’s that I am increasingly convinced this is the prelude to a State Alchemist Revolt. First being used by your government to commit genocide, now learning that the authorities are committing human sacrifice to increase their power? I look forward to Roy, Riza, Armstrong and the others standing up against this injustice. A pity that this is the final nail in the “Fuhrer Bradley is a Bad Guy” coffin, I liked his personality. But I don’t care what kind of excuse he’s gonna use for all of this, this government needs to go down. Should make for an enjoyable fight at least, Bradley’s super-speed against our guys. Post-Credits “There were once two men who knew more of bloody blades than human sympathy. They snuffed out life, laughing as their weapons flew. Now, they guard the darkness, hollow shells of the villains they once were. Next time, on Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood-” Episode 08: “The Fifth Laboratory” “There are those who find pleasure only in battle, who feel alive only during a fight. They are coming soon… with blood on their hands.”

[setaripendragon]

The Light of a Pole Star - Part 2

Here’s the next part; have a few outsider PoVs of Ed and his weirdness. The last scene of this is actually the first thing I imagined when I thought up this story, and I’m actually really pleased with how it came out.

Roy doesn’t know what to make of Edward Elric. Most of the time, he seems like your average traumatised child prodigy. A little arrogant, a lot determined, a bit impulsive and, heh, short-tempered. But there are moments – frequent, odd little moments – where it feels a little like there’s something ancient looking out through Edward’s eyes.

Never in his life would Roy have dreamed of asking any child to recreate the scene of their trauma, but Edward had shouldered the burden, and asked for help when he needed to without shame or the bravado Roy had come to expect. He’d acted like a soldier, and he’d turned a body inside out – and vaporised parts of it – without faltering more than once. Only after it was done had he thrown up and started shaking. Roy had gotten him out of that room quickly, but he’d hesitated to take Edward to join Riza and Alphonse straight away. And that had apparently been the right choice, because after a few minutes, Edward had let out a shuddery breath, leaned against Roy’s side briefly, and muttered ‘Thanks’ before heading out to reassure his brother.

That’s the other disturbing thing about Edward. For some inexplicable reason, he’s decided he trusts Roy. He just up and decided to trust the military dog who’s shady enough to recruit an eleven year old. And if Edward ever really acted his age, or showed even the smallest inclination for naivety, Roy might put it down to a childish trust in authority figures. But Edward uniformly rebels against authority, and makes no secret of the fact that he dislikes the military immensely. And yet… and yet he trusts Roy.

It just doesn’t make any sense.

Think of the devil, and he shall appear. As if his thoughts had summoned him, Roy hears the characteristic thump-stamp-thump-stamp-thump-BANG-thunk of Edward’s return to the office. “Must you always kick the door like that, FullMetal?” Roy sighs, because it’s easier to complain about the abuse the poor door is suffering than to think about his mother’s voice saying ‘he’s a lot more grown-up than he looks’ and wondering if she saw that ancient thing behind Edward’s eyes, too.

“Fuck off, bastard. Hey guys. We brought coffee. Didn’t know what you all like, so there’s some packets of sugar and devil-juice, too. Whatever.” Edward announces while Alphonse shuffles through the door sheepishly and deposits half a dozen to-go cups of life-blood from the good café two streets away on the corner of Havoc’s desk. Predictably, the entire team descends on the non-military non-cafeteria coffee like a swarm of locusts. Edward yelps and scrambles to grab two of the cups before getting the hell out of dodge.

“Hey, you drinking both of those, Boss?” Havoc asks, giving Ed a dubiously concerned look.

“No.” Edward insists, glowering without much heat behind it. “This one’s for the bastard.” He explains, lifting one of the cups in the air to indicate, and then stomping over to Roy’s desk, depositing the coffee on top of the report Roy was reading, and then throwing himself down onto the couch like he always does.

“What if I want milk in it?” Roy challenges dryly.

Edward gives him the stink-eye, opens his mouth, and then, curiously, falters before whatever retort is clearly on the tip of his tongue can fall out of his mouth. He grimaces, hides the expression behind his cup, and only answers once he’s swallowed. “But it’ll clash with the aconite.” He snarks.

Roy really wants to know what Edward was going to say that he thought that was an improvement on, but he decides not to ask. “Attempting to poison your superior officer already, FullMetal?” He asks instead, while very pointedly lifting the cup and taking an easy sip. It does taste very good without any extra condiments. It is also very definitely not plain black coffee. It’s minty, and chocolatey, and decadent. Roy takes another sip and savours it, feeling more awake already.

“I know it takes the average grunt a couple of years to reach that stage of fuck it, but you know me; I’m an overachiever.” Edward sallies back without missing a beat, this time.

“If that’s the case, I’m afraid the rest of my team must be slacking.” Roy murmurs, amused.

“Except Hawkeye.” Edward grins from behind his mug.

“Speaking of which!” Roy begins, sitting up and leaning forward over his work with a show of alacrity that makes Edward snort coffee out his nose. While he’s spluttering and cursing Roy’s ancestors to hell and back again, Roy digs up the forms Edward has yet again failed to fill out. “You do actually need to fill these out, FullMetal.”

“Fuck you.” Edward retorts, but he takes the papers anyway. Of course, instead of doing anything as sensible as fetching a pen, Roy sees Edward’s eyes flick down to the bottom left corner. A grin spreads across his face. “Got bored in a meeting, did you?” Edward snickers.

“It’s not my fault none of the brass are pretty enough to be properly captivating.” Roy fires back flippantly.

“The little horns are a nice touch.” Edward compliments through a shit-eating grin. The smile slips sideways suddenly, into something strangely soft, and that ancient thing is back in his eyes. “Maybe you should quit the military and take up art instead.” His voice is still full of cheerful irreverence, no matter how much it doesn’t match his expression anymore.

“Unfortunately, I think I’d get distracted.” Roy sighs melodramatically.

Edward rolls his eyes, but he still looks… oddly soft. Fond, maybe “Idiot. It’s actually stupid fun to alchemise paint. Apparently it makes the pigment brighter, too, so, hey, win-win.”

Roy raises his eyebrows. “If I remember correctly, that was something of a fashion in Aerugo several hundred years ago. Entertaining dreams of being a renaissance artist, FullMetal?”

Edward startles, looking for a moment as if the conversation just threw him a curveball, instead of a perfectly reasonable continuation. Then he shakes himself and snorts. “No. It’d suit you, though, bastard. You’ve already got the melodrama down.” He mocks. Then he puts the back of his hand against his forehead and pretends to swoon. “Oh, I just can’t work like this! The angles are wrong! The colours are dull! It’s just boring. Won’t someone come and massage my shoulders and pass me the wine that’s just three inches away from my fingertips?”

The entire team is roaring with laughter. “Well,” Roy muses, fighting his own snicker, “if the only other person in the room was the model for my painting, that sounds like an excellent excuse to get a beautiful person within touching distance.” He points out.

There’s more laughter, but Edward goes a little wide-eyed and pink-cheeked before he joins in. “See? I was right.” He huffs between chuckles. “You’d fit right in.”

Riza clears her throat. A glance tells Roy that even though she’s trying to look stern, there’s a smile tugging at one corner of her lips. “Unfortunately, this isn’t medieval Aerugo, and some people have work to do.” She reminds them.

Roy groans.

Alphonse watches his brother leaf through the multitude of books he’d borrowed from the East City Library, feeling… disconcerted. There’s something going on that Ed’s not telling him about, and it’s got something to do with Colonel Mustang. At first, Alphonse had missed it, because the meeting had been so brief, and he’d been in his own slump, but afterwards, after how easily his brother had trusted a scheming military dog with Nina, he remembered that Ed hadn’t pulled out of his strange dissociative state until after Mustang had appeared.

And now the coffee thing.

Alphonse had been the one to suggest bringing coffee on their way into the office, and Ed hadn’t seemed to care until Alphonse had started fretting about not knowing what everyone liked. Then he’d stepped in and ordered one chocolate-coffee with extra sugar – for himself, Alphonse knew – five plain black coffees – for the team, Alphonse guessed, except… – and one mint-chocolate-coffee.

“Who’s that for?” Alphonse asked.

“Colonel Bastard, of course.” Ed said, as if it was obvious.

Alphonse had let it stand, played along, because most of the time, the worst thing to do was to confront Brother over something he wanted to ignore. Then he got stubborn and ignored it for even longer than was sensible just to prove he could handle it, or some other such nonsense. So he bit his tongue, and watched. And the thing that really, really bothered Alphonse was that it had been so obvious that the Colonel had not been expecting anything special, but he’d savoured it. He’d liked it. And Ed just shouldn’t know, off-hand and easy, what sort of coffee the Colonel prefers.

But, of course, Brother is being stubborn about it, so Alphonse isn’t quite sure what to do. He could leave it, let Ed explain in his own time, but… but the problem with that is that Alphonse really isn’t comfortable with how much Ed trusts the Colonel without knowing why. So he’s going to have to ask, and hope Brother doesn’t clam up about it even more.

“Brother?” Alphonse asks, and then waits for confirmation that he’s been heard. He knows what Ed can get like when he’s reading.

“Mm?” Ed hums, and then, when there’s nothing more forthcoming, drags himself a little further out of the book, enough to look up and actually give Alphonse his attention. “What’s up, Al?”

“Why do you trust the Colonel so much?” Alphonse asks, bluntly, because Ed’s reaction to such an attack should be very informative.

Sure enough, Ed looks confused for just a moment, before his eyes widen with that ‘oh damn I’m caught’ sort of look that still makes Alphonse ache because usually only Mum could inspire that expression in Brother. With everyone else he just got belligerent. Except now, after everything, it seems Alphonse can manage it, too. “What do you mean?” Ed deflects. Poorly.

Alphonse does his best to radiate disappointment at Ed’s terrible lying. “You know exactly what I mean.” He huffs.

And Ed deflates. “Yeah. It’s just… it’s- it’s complicated, Al, and I- I don’t want you to think-”

“Think what?” Alphonse presses, but gently. Now that Ed’s talking, the last thing he wants to do is put Ed on the defensive.

“That I’m- that you’re- not important to me.”

Alphonse takes a moment to process that, to parse it from Edward-speak into something actually coherent, and feels something maybe like incredulity bubble through his- well, through his soul, he supposes. “Brother… do you have a crush on the Colonel?” He asks in disbelief. Ed blinks once, twice, and then, unbelievably, laughs. “Brother!” Alphonse whines, indignant. “Don’t laugh! It’s a fair question, when you start saying things like that!”

“No, no, I’m not- You’re right, I’m not laughing at you, Al, I swear.” Ed snickers.

“Then what’s funny?” Alphonse asks, relaxing a little.

“So, okay, that wasn’t quite what I was getting at, but it’s as good a segue as any, so; Al,” Ed says, very seriously, even if he is still trying not to laugh, “Al, Roy’s my soulmate.”

Alphonse has to take a moment to process that, too. Because Ed doesn’t believe in things like soulmates, or love at first sight, or, really, romance at all. So, if he’s not using the word in the romantic sense, then… Well, they do have empirical evidence that souls exist, so… “What do you- No, I mean; How do you know that?” Alphonse corrects himself, because he’s got an idea what Brother means, he just has no idea how Ed came to that conclusion.

“Because-” Ed begins, and then falters, looking faintly overwhelmed. Then he scrubs his flesh hand over his face and sets his jaw. It’s a familiar expression, a ‘we’re going to get to the bottom of this’ expression that reassures Alphonse more than anything. “Because I remember him. He’s the only thing that stays the same.” Ed states.

Alphonse knows that’s his cue to ask questions until that ridiculously incomprehensible answer makes sense. He considers all sorts of questions. ‘What do you mean’ is too vague, and ‘remember him from when’ is only going to get him a rephrasing of what Ed’s already said – ‘from always, Al, I just said that’ – so instead, he asks; “Stays the same through what?”

“My lives.” Ed answers, watching Alphonse carefully, almost warily.

“Your-” Alphonse stops himself from just repeating that, because Ed knows what he said, he meant what he said, so parroting it back to him isn’t going to help. “You’re talking about… reincarnation? Recycling souls through multiple lives?”

“Yeah.”

“And you… you’re saying you remember your previous lives?”

“Yeah.”

Alphonse is not an idiot. He is, in fact, a genius. “Since the gate?”

Ed looks relieved. “Since the gate.” He confirms. “It’s- I don’t understand why it happened to me and not to you, because you went through the Gate, too, but… It’s as if when it pulled me apart, it… exposed all the stuff that I’m not supposed to remember, all the parts of me that aren’t… me.” Ed’s hand migrates from scrubbing his face to raking through his hair and messing up his braid.

Well, that actually explains so much. Like how Granny had been behaving around Ed before they left. She’d still been nannying Alphonse, even though he was six foot tall now, but she’d treated Ed like somehow what they’d gone through had made him an adult. Because, in a way, it kind of had. Or, at least, it had woken up the parts of Ed that had been an adult before. “Oh! Is that Klaus person from one of your past lives?” He exclaims in a moment of sudden understanding.

Ed snorts. “Yeah, Al. Klaus was Roy. Or… Roy was Klaus, once.”

“Oh!” Alphonse breaths, clarity dawning, and then, just as quickly, becoming obscured again by confusion. “Wait, how do you know that?”

“I don’t know.” Ed admits grumpily. “It’s just… I looked at him, and I recognised him. I knew him. That’s like- Al, that’s like someone asking you ‘but how do you know that Ed’s your brother?’”

“Because you look the same.” Alphonse answered at once, even though he knew that wasn’t the whole truth.

“Well, yeah, but I don’t have to look identical to the last time you saw me for you to recognise me. You recognise my voice, and my gestures, and my- my me-ness.” Ed insists, hands gesturing vaguely in the air. Alphonse silently judges him for his abuse of the Amestrian language. “Shut up, you know what I mean.” Ed huffs.

“I do.” Alphonse capitulates. He lets the silence settle for a moment, thinking carefully about everything Ed’s said so far. It’s hard to believe, hard to wrap his mind around, but he doesn’t not believe Ed. Too much of the weirdness can be explained this way for him to just dismiss it. Still, he’d like a little more confirmation. “You told Granny, didn’t you?” He asks slowly.

“Yeah. I figured- I figured since she’s old as dirt, I could maybe convince her by, you know, sharing knowledge of the time and shit.” Ed explains. “Turns out, I actually met her in my last life.”

Alphonse is going to have to call Granny and confirm, because that sounds like a pretty huge coincidence. “Who- I mean, what were you like?” He asks carefully, wanting more information for Granny to corroborate.

“It’s fine, you can ask ‘who were you’” Ed assures him. Alphonse huffs, and Ed gets on with actually answering the question. “I was an engineer. Actually helped invent the first car. Sort of, they didn’t really look all that much like what we’ve got now, and the engines in cars today are pretty different, but- Yeah.”

“An engineer.” Alphonse repeats.

“…Yeah?” Ed replies, warily. “Al, what?”

“So, basically a mechanic.” Alphonse rephrases.

Ed pulls a face. “Sort of. I mean, I could fix the damn things, so that’s what I was hauled out to the front to do, but I was designing the things, not-”

“I’m telling Winry.” Alphonse informs him.

Ed’s expression of outraged betrayal is sweet indeed. “Don’t you dare!”

“I’m telling Winry that you invented engines in your last life, but somehow you still can’t understand even the basics of how your own automail even works-”

“You traitor!” Ed howls, throwing a book at Alphonse. Al catches it and judges his brother for throwing books. Ed slumps down in his chair in a huff, arms crossed and scowl firmly in place. “And I can too understand the basics. Just because I’m not an automail genius as well as an alchemy genius-” Alphonse snickers, and Ed grumbles imprecations under his breath.

The last thing Izumi was expecting today was a phone call from one of the Elric boys. It’s been so long by now that getting a call from them is less an expected social courtesy and more a cause for concern, but she’s still glad to hear from them. She’d worried, a little, when months rolled by without hearing anything from them after they went back home.

So when Sig leans around the door to the living room, carrying the phone in one hand and the receiver in mid-air in the other, and says “It’s Alphonse,” she sits bolt upright with a mixture of pleasure and panic. Sig offers her the receiver, and she more or less snatches it, which makes him smile faintly as he puts the phone down on the table, the cord pulling almost too taut through the doorway and turning into a massive tripping hazard.

“Alphonse?” Izumi questions, bringing the receiver to her ear.

“Teacher!” Alphonse greets, bright and pleased, and Izumi relaxes a little. If Alphonse can sound that cheerful, it’s at least not an immediate disaster. “How have you been? I’m so sorry not to have called before, that was rude of us.”

Izumi smiles, even as she narrows her eyes at nothing. An apology, but no explanation, which feels like Alphonse’s subtle attempt at a dodge. “I’ve been fine. Same as ever. What about you? And Edward? What have you boys been up to?”

“We’re good. We’re fine.” Alphonse says quickly. Too quickly. “We haven’t been up to much at all! Just- just studying. Alchemy.”

“Uh-huh.” Izumi drawls, making sure that every ounce of her deeply unimpressed scepticism comes through across the telephone lines.

“Which is actually what I called you about!” Alphonse presses on. “I have a question, and I’m not sure where to even begin looking for an answer, and- and, well, I thought you might be able to help. At least point me in a sensible direction.”

Izumi settles back into the big squishy armchair more comfortably. She’ll play along for the moment, but she’s certainly not going to forget that Alphonse was clearly hiding something from her. “Well, I’ll do my best.” She offers.

“So, I’ve been, um, looking into theoretical alchemy a bit lately. Really, very, massively theoretical alchemy.” Alphonse insists. Oh, Izumi has a bad feeling about this, but she ‘mm-hm’s into the phone to encourage him on. “And, well, a bit of philosophy, too, actually. Just… idle research, you know, except- Well-” He stumbles. Embarrassed, as well as hiding something, Izumi thinks.

“Spit it out, Alphonse.” Izumi encourages.

“I’ve been looking into the theory of reincarnation.” Alphonse blurts out.

Izumi goes cold. “Have you?” She asks, and she’s surprised at how even her voice sounds.

“Y-yes. And, see… I was… well, I was wondering, purely hypothetically, you see, if- All the resources I can find talk about the cycle of rebirth, of souls re-entering the world as a new person, but… there’s nothing on… on whether souls are a finite resource, or if, say, for example, new souls might be being born, too, souls that- that don’t have any past lives.”

Izumi might not be a genius of the same calibre as the Elric brothers, but she’s not stupid. For Alphonse to be asking such a specific ‘hypothetical’ question, he and at least one other person must have committed taboo and spoken about it. They must have compared experiences, for Alphonse to be worried about the fact that one of them had had a vastly different experience to the other.

And where one Elric is doing unspeakably foolish things, the other is bound to be close behind.

Taking a deep breath, Izumi decides that there’s no way she’s getting into this over the phone. She is going to need to see them in person to give them the thrashing they deserve. “Alphonse.” She says slowly, and hears Alphonse suck in a sharp breath. “Where exactly are you and Edward right now?”

“U-um… in Central City?”

“Which hotel?”

That was definitely a guilty ‘urk’ sound he just made. “The… um, the Military Barracks?”

…She’ll kick their asses for that, too. Fuck everything, but they’re only just barely teenagers. They’re so damn young, what the bloody hell are they doing in the Military Barracks?

“I’ll be there tomorrow. Don’t. Go. Anywhere.”

“But-!”

Izumi hangs up the phone with a satisfying clatter-clang. Then she spends several minutes just sitting there, glaring at it and measuring her breathing to tamp her temper down into something that will survive an overnight train-ride without burning itself out.

“Where are we going?” Sig asks softly.

Izumi turns to him, takes a moment to really just look at him, to soak up his beloved features, and look past beautiful brown eyes to the soul beneath. The soul that has looked at her and loved her through blue eyes and green eyes and grey eyes and black eyes and red eyes and hazel eyes in a variety of different combinations. There was one time she remembers he had one blue eye and one eye that was split neatly down the middle between blue and brown.

“What are you remembering?” Sig asks, smiling and reaching up to cup the side of her face.

“Creta. Sometime in the middle of the sixth century. The day I met a beautiful blacksmith with half a brown eye. You were so caught up staring at me you nearly dropped an anvil on your foot.” Izumi tells him, remembering the moment with perfect clarity. “Of course, I was so caught up staring right back at you that I walked clear into an iron beam. You offered to fix the new dent in my helmet for free.”

“Of course.” Sig agrees, nodding as if that was the only thing that made sense. Izumi grins, but the moment fades quickly in the face of the painful reality. “What is it?”

“The Elrics performed human transmutation.” Izumi tells him, and Sig’s expression falls into sorrowful, solemn lines. “Alphonse called to ask about reincarnation, and why someone might not remember their past lives.”

Sig sighs, and gives her a look that she knows means he’s wishing she wouldn’t go haring off across the country to kick the asses of her troublesome students, but he doesn’t say it, and Izumi loves him so much for that. “Where should I get tickets to?” He asks, instead.

“Central City Center.”

Chris is wiping down table-tops in preparation for the early evening rush when one of the last people she expected to see in her bar walks in. She’d have been more surprised if the Fuhrer himself walked in, but not by much, because she sees a lot of military men in her establishment. But Edward Elric, the FullMetal Alchemist, doesn’t look like he feels out of place at all.

“Edward.” The woman who follows him in growls. “This is a brothel.”

The boy isn’t chastised at all, he just rolls his eyes. They both look like they’ve been in a brawl, and though the kid definitely looks worse for wear, they both have the sort of aura that screams ‘you should see the other guy’. “It’s a bar, too, Teacher. You said you wanted a drink, didn’t you?” Ah, so the woman must be Izumi Curtis, the infamous alchemy teacher of the genius Elric boys. Chris watches her with a little more interest, assessing her. She’s a handsome woman, strong and clearly living an active life, although there’s a touch of pallor to her skin that makes her wonder if she’s ill or not eating right. “Hey, Madame Christmas! You open for business?” Elric calls.

“Well, if it isn’t the little architect.” Chris drawls, which gets her a sharp-edged grin from the boy. “You’re still too young to be a customer.” She reminds him, even as she heads back behind the bar.

“If I’m old enough to kill for the state, I think I’m old enough for half a glass of alcohol, thanks.” Elric retorts promptly, holding up his State Alchemist’s watch. Which is a damn good point, really, and Chris knows her boy will get her out of trouble if anyone does complain.

So she nods acceptingly, and gestures at the well-stocked wall of alcohol behind the bar. “Pick your poison, kid.” And then she glances at Curtis to include her in the question about drinks as well without ruining the banter.

“Don’t suppose you’ve got any Drachman bottled water?” Curtis asks a little wistfully.

Chris honestly loves it when she can surprise people, and it’s always sweeter when it’s the sort of surprise that makes them light up the way Curtis does when she ducks down to pull the – smuggled – bottle of clear, potent liquor out from it’s hiding place.

“Huh.” The kid says, eyeing his teacher sideways for a moment while Chris pours Curtis a generous glass and sets it in front of her. “Can you make a hot mint chocolate toddy? Without the cream?” He asks hopefully.

“Child’s play.” Chris confirms, and sets about to mixing it for him.

“So why here?” Curtis asks while she’s busy. So many people seem to think that ‘busy’ means ‘deaf’, it’s another of those things Chris really, really loves about her job.

“Why d’you think?” Elric retorts. Curtis grunts an acknowledgement and falls silent. A covert glance shows Chris that she’s glaring into the vodka like it holds the secrets of the universe. “Teacher…” Elric begins, and for the first time in Chris’s hearing, he sounds tentative, nervous. Curtis looks up at him, dryly prompting, and Elric grimaces and shifts on his seat. “How much do you remember?”

“Two dozen, more or less.” Curtis replies, and knocks back half her drink.

“Shit.” Elric swears, wide-eyed.

“How much do you remember?” Curtis retorts.

“Just ten.” Elric replies. “I guess that’s a point in favour of Al’s theory of an expanding source, then.”

Curtis makes a dubious noise, and Elric’s eyebrows hike up. Chris is painfully curious about what the hell they’re talking about, but it sounds as if they’re talking in code, so she’s unlikely to figure out what they actually mean unless they get a lot more careless. To help them along to that end, she serves up Elric’s toddy. He grins his thanks, and takes a sip. His eyes flutter closed, and an expression of pure nostalgia flickers across his face.

“Maybe, maybe not.” Curtis says once Elric’s done savouring his drink. She’s watching him with a very maternal combination of sorrow and pride, but the moment he looks at her, it’s gone, hidden behind practical irritability. “I have a theory about that, but since for a long time I was the only one stupid enough to have done something like that-” Elric cringes down in his seat, thoroughly chastised. “-I haven’t had anyone to test it against.”

Elric clears his throat sheepishly, but he sounds perfectly composed when he says “Lay it on me, then.”

“I think it only goes back to the latest one that’s familiar enough for you to latch onto. Think of the first time. Does it parallel your entire life in weirdly specific ways?” Curtis asks cryptically.

Or, well, it’s clearly only cryptic to Chris, because Elric’s expression turns open and slack with dawning revelation. “Shit- I mean, I’d noticed the sort of- the superficial- but-” He stops, and his left hand goes up to grab his right shoulder. His eyes are glazed over like he’s watching a memory play out so clearly he can’t see the bar at all. “He literally even saved me the same fucking way.”

Curtis snorts. “Yeah. Tell me about it.”

Elric startles, drawn back to the present, and shoots his teacher a teasing grin. “Did you drop your bear again?” He asks through a snicker.

“Yup.” Curtis confirms, smiling like a woman in love.

Elric laughs again, this time less teasing and more fond, and shakes his head. “I guessed it would be Sig.” He muses, which sounds like a non-sequitur, but Chris isn’t that surprised to hear the woman’s husband mentioned after the look that had been on her face a moment ago. Clearly, Curtis isn’t surprised, either, because she snorts.

“Obviously.” She drawls, and finishes off her drink. Chris refills it without needing to be asked. Then she looks over at Elric, expression turning serious. “Who is it, for you?”

“Mustang.” Elric answers, like it’s simple, like it’s easy, like there’s no other answer in the world he could possibly give. Chris keeps her expression blank out of sheer force of will, and wonders if Roy’s figured out that Elric is hopelessly in love with him yet. Curtis frowns, like she recognises the name, but she’s not sure why. Elric elaborates; “The Flame Alchemist.”

Curtis’s nose wrinkles in acute disgust, Elric glowers back, and slowly, the teacher’s expression twists into something grudgingly accepting. Then she makes a disgusted noise. “I suppose he can’t be a complete shit-stain, then. But the military, Ed-!” She huffs.

“Hey! It’s not like I joined cause I like them.” Elric shoots back. “And besides, you’ll like him.” He asserts confidently.

“I will, will I?”

“I’ve fucked over the Amestrian military for him twice now. Three times, if you count this latest round.” Elric tells her, like that’s the sort of thing you can just say in public. Idiot. But, still, nice to know he’s on Roy’s side in this. Curtis looks mildly impressed, too, and a bit amused. “Fucking irony. Or- maybe not, maybe it’s just synchronicity.”

“Yeah, it’s good at that.”

“You want to know the real shit piece of irony?” Elric asks, mood dropping into a wry sort of agony. Curtis turns to face him, frowning in concern, and Elric glances at her before looking back at his drink. “The real shit pieces of irony, actually.”

“Tell me.” Curtis orders.

“Amestrian Military burned down Valentino’s bar. With Val still inside.”

That’s… Irony is an interesting word for it. Chris might have picked tragedy, but irony works, she supposes. She feels a twist of sympathy for Elric, and if it had been her student-nephew-son telling her something like that, she might have patted his shoulder and reminded him to keep moving forward, but Curtis doesn’t do either of those. Instead, she laughs. It’s a slightly sick sounding laugh, dark and bitter, but it’s a laugh. Elric clearly doesn’t mind, though, because he snorts once, and buries his nose into his spiked hot chocolate.

“And the other?” Curtis prompts once she’s done.

“Malka was a mullah.”

Elric knows – knew – an Ishvalan. An Ishvalan holy sage, if Chris remembers her Ishvalan right. Well, isn’t that a kick in the teeth. Still, it hasn’t stopped him falling for Roy, so Chris dares to hope this isn’t the disaster it could’ve been. “Shit.” Curtis breathes, wincing.

“Yeah.” Elric mutters, expression twisting.

“I hope you were gentle when you told him about that one.”

Elric chokes on the sip of toddy he was taking, splutters, and turns to stare at his teacher in acute, disbelieving horror. “I haven’t told him! What the fuck?! Why would you think I’ve told him any of this?!” He yelps, and for just about the first time in this whole conversation, actually sounds his age.

Curtis looks shocked by that reaction. “Why would I- Edward, why the fuck haven’t you told him?!”

The look Elric gives her says loud and clear that he’s wondering when she bumped her head badly enough to cause brain damage. “Oh, yeah, sure, because that’s exactly what anyone wants to hear from their fourteen year old subordinate.” And they were back to talking about Elric being in love with Roy again. An interesting segue from knowing an Ishvalan, but Curtis doesn’t seem thrown, and Chris supposes she can understand why Elric might have connected the two so thoroughly in his mind. Hard to explain why the one hadn’t made him hate Roy without admitting to the other.

“You’re more than that.” Curtis points out.

“Yeah, but he doesn’t know that.” Elric retorts furiously.

“Yes, he does.” Curtis counters, factual and completely certain. It takes Chris aback, never mind how it manages to startle Elric out of his temper. He blinks at her, brow knotting in uncertainty. But he clearly trusts his teacher a great deal, because he doesn’t argue, even though he’d have every right to demand how the fuck she could possibly know that. “He might not know that he knows, but he does know, Edward.” At Elric’s continued bewilderment, she rolls her eyes. “Oh, come on. Haven’t you ever had a conversation with him where he says exactly the right thing at exactly the right moment, and you’re left thinking ‘It’s like you were there’?”

Elric’s staring at her wide-eyed again. Slowly, he nods. “We were talking about Fiametta Vittori.”

“The Aerugonian painter?” Curtis echoes, surprised and impressed. “The one famous for painting all the-” She stops, expression falling into slightly pained lines. She doesn’t need to finish, Chris knows exactly what sort of paintings Vittori was famous for. She’s got a few reproductions on the walls upstairs, after all. “Edward…!” Curtis groans.

Elric grins mischievously. “She was a perv. She and Roy would have gotten on like house on fire.” They both paused at that, eyeing each other, Elric with expectant glee, and Curtis with slowly-dawning outrage at the pun. Then they collapse into slightly tipsy snickering. That’s the last piece of dubious sense Chris hears from them for the rest of the evening. The bar gets busy, but she keeps half an ear on them, but all they seem to be talking about is increasingly bizarre historical ramblings. If it’s a code, it’s a damn good one. Chris can’t make any sense of it at all.

[worseandworser]

Royal Silence (Xerxes AU)

RoyEd Week day 3: AU

Summary: Don’t look at the young dukes. It was the first advice given to the officers after it was confirmed that the Hohenheim family would be visiting Amestris.

According to Xerxian traditions, direct contact with unmarried members of a royal or noble family without the permission of the patriarch was a horrendous scandal. The Xerxian commoners who dared to commit such act of disrespect were bound to live in shame, jail or, depending on the type of contact, to not live at all. The Duke’s wife, Duchess Trisha Hohenheim, was an Amestrian woman, but rumors had it that she was raising perfectly Xerxian children, giving up on all of the Western habits from her homeland. So, as to not create any unnecessary disasters that could ruin the economic plans of Amestris, it became protocol to not even look at the kids and the soldiers got to the point of completely ignoring them to stay in line.

But of course, Roy Mustang’s life couldn’t be that simple.

read on ao3

Rating: M (mentions of sex)

Warnings: none

Words: 2,943

A/N: Edward is aged up a bit, let's say... Ed is 15/16 and Roy is 19/20 years old. I'll probably add more chapters to this, I just couldn't stop writing it haha. But that obviously depends on how people will react...

Don’t look at the young dukes. It was the first advice given to the officers after it was confirmed that the Hohenheim family would be visiting Amestris.

According to Xerxian traditions, direct contact with unmarried members of a royal or noble family without the permission of the patriarch was a horrendous scandal. The Xerxian commoners who dared to commit such act of disrespect were bound to live in shame, jail or, depending on the type of contact, to not live at all. The Duke’s wife, Duchess Trisha Hohenheim, was an Amestrian woman, but rumors had it that she was raising perfectly Xerxian children, giving up on all of the Western habits from her homeland. So, as to not create any unnecessary disasters that could ruin the economic plans of Amestris, it became protocol to not even look at the kids and the soldiers got to the point of completely ignoring them to stay in line.

But of course, Roy Mustang’s life couldn’t be that simple.

“Your hair is funny.”

The young major stood frozen on the doorstep of the library. He and the warrant officer Jean Havoc were appointed to care for the two boys’ nightly security, which meant they would be following them around while keeping an eye out for threats. No big deal. Except that it was.

There was a threat. A huge threat that seemingly no one saw as one. But Roy saw it—of course, he did, how couldn’t he when it was always around him—the threat dressed in beige tunics and thin leather sandals, gold bracelets covering toned arms and hair braided with small pieces of jewelry that made a sweet clink clink clink sound with each movement of the head. It showed no mercy, seeking constant attention through poking and relentless teasing.

“Can I touch it?”

The older brother.

“Oi, answer me, you jerk.”

Oh, poor Havoc...

Roy did not dare look at the scene occurring right beside him.

“Brother, stop that, you know they can’t talk to us.”

A snort and footsteps were heard.

“Yeah, whatever. C’mon, Al, there must be some books here that we haven’t read.”

Breath in, breath out.

Roy risked a glance over a pale Jean Havoc. A thin sheen of sweat covered his forehead.

Oh, fuck.

The Duke’s family was in Central purely for political reasons. Van Hohenheim was very inclined towards alliances with Amestris and seemed found of its Eastern countryside, where he met his wife. Getting to his good side was one of the top priorities of the Führer, needless to explain why: Xerxes posed as one of the most powerful countries, even without the strong militarism of its neighborhoods Amestris and Drachma. No one would dare to invade the oldest country of the continent, that survived centuries in the desert and still managed to have the most advanced scientific and artistic hubs. The Royals were so important that the Führer actually went through the trouble of reserving a whole suburban mansion exclusively for them, with dozens of rooms and a caravan of maids, cookers and guards.

Out of so many soldiers, it made the Flame Alchemist wonder why him.

During the days, the boys almost lived in the library, which made the whole job for the day guards easier. These lucky officers did not need to walk around that much, and Edward spent most of the time with his face in a book instead of being an inconsiderate brat. And there even a good part: listening to the brothers interact as if their guards weren’t even there was endearing: the older one turned soft and caring when it came to Alphonse. Apparently, the two of them were brilliant, reciting formulas and facts as if they were long-time experienced alchemists, and, as far as the sparring times they had could tell, great hand-to-hand fighters, something completely unexpected of young royals.

But when the night started, oh, that was the definition of hell. The brothers were separated, and Roy would always be dragged by Edward to his quarters and sit by the door. Every night, the young duke would open the curtains and lay wide awake in bed, bathed in silver moonlight, until an unbearable point of boredom. Then the boy wandered around the room, talking to Roy as if he could answer and complained because he didn't. The emptiness of the ambient left the man brave enough to follow the blond with his eyes, but not to speak. So Edward cursed him, his ancestors, his descendants, and sometimes even threw a pillow at him when the anger grew too much to be conveyed in words.

It was an overly warm evening when Edward decided to change his behavioral patterns. The youths parted with a hug and Jean Havoc stayed behind to accompany Alphonse. The instant they were out of sight, the boy grabbed Roy’s hand. The man flinched as if he’d been burned, staring with wide eyes at the smaller one, who made his point by tightening the grip.

“Let’s go.”

And the Flame Alchemist didn’t make a sound.

The Xerxian’s room was the size of Roy’s apartment, furnished with wooden furniture and a bed big enough for... well. In front of the pompous fireplace was a couch that seemed too comfortable for its own good, to which Roy kept giving longing looks every night he had to spend in that damn stool by the door. The whole space was disturbingly impersonal and the thought of living there repulsed the young major. Edward seemed to hold similar opinions, since he stashed all his luggage in the smallest pile possible on the ground next to the bed, not even unpacking properly.

The boy closed the door and the raven-haired man cringed at the sound of a lock being turned. He gave Roy’s hand a little tug and, when the man showed no sign of moving, rolled his eyes.

“Don’t be such a stubborn bastard, it’s not like I plan to torture you or something."

The soldier sighed and relented, letting himself be dragged in the direction of the couch. Oh, oh, the couch. The boy flopped in the cushions and propped his feet on the table – the movement too aggressive and ungracious to be considered cute but Roy thought it was anyway –, patting the spot next to him.

The man frowned and stood frozen.

“Y’know, I’m royalty and all that, but if I have to tackle you to make you sit on this damn sofa, I will.”

So Roy sat down and–

–he had to stop himself from sprawling all over it.

oh god ohgodohgod this is furniture heaven

He managed to keep a straight face.

“It must’ve been hell sitting on that stool all night, right?”

The young major did not look at him, eyes locked to the empty fireplace, but he could hear the smile.

"Now I just have to figure out a way to make you talk to me. C'mon, isn't it weird that you just follow me around and never say a word?"

Silence.

“I think it's pretty fucking creepy."

More silence. And a snort.

"God, you're so annoying." Edward's feet left the table and Roy heard a bit of fumbling. A hand came to rest on his shoulder, fidgeting the lone star patched there.

"But you have a nice face, y'know, for a bastard."

The man tensed like a string pulled tight. That was an attempt at flirting, right? It just had to be. Oh god, maybe the compliment had been a bit backhanded, but a compliment nonetheless. And then there was that insistent hand on his shoulder just adding to his thesis. Roy's mind buzzed with the pride and his heart did some weird, excited leaps and a stunning Xerxian royal said he has a nice face. His eyes drifted to Edward, only to meet the boy's smug grin.

“You do Flame Alchemy.” A statement, not a question. “But fire isn't matter, so how does it work? You can't expect me to believe that you can alchemize flames.”

Roy went back to staring straight ahead.

A loud, loud groan, almost a scream and the soft touch on his shoulder left.

“Holy fucking hell, what do I have to do for you to make a goddamn noise? Is it really going to hurt you so much to just talk to me? You'd get fired or some shit? That's just stupid, this whole thing is really fucking stupid!" The boy's fists clenched against the pillowed surface.

"I know you like me, okay? I mean, you're always giving me these looks and... I just know, okay? And it's fine, more than fucking fine even cause– yeah, I don't believe in that tradition bullshit and answering me won't instantly turn you in my fucking husband or an exiled or whatever. Fuck, you're not even from Xerxes and in a few weeks we'll go back home and you won't ever see me again..."

His tone was losing its initial sourness, crumbling into something akin to hopelessness. From the corner of his eyes, the raven-haired soldier saw the boy gesticulating, exasperated and barely giving himself time to breathe between words.

“It's just... no one talks to me anymore.” A sigh and Roy itched as whole to reach out “I mean, I have Al, my parents and some letters from Winry but that's it. Even the servants– fuck, Al and I used to talk to them every day, they were so nice and they played with us and I thought they liked us. But even with dad's permission, it's not fucking polite so they just stand there expecting us to give orders and shit and act as if everything is normal. Al is gonna marry Winry in a year or so, and he'll be outta this hell in no time, but I– fucking god, they've been tryin’ to set me up with someone but I'm such a fuck up and– and...”

A deep, shuddering breath and then–

“Forget it. Just... stay on the sofa tonight, I guess, that stool looks uncomfortable as hell."

–stood up and left.

Roy's chest tightened. How could he? How could Edward mess around with him like he always did, poking and teasing, then tear himself open like he just did and spill all over? As if it was nothing, as if it wasn't a tsunami but rather a warm wave that never got above the ankles? As if it didn't leave Roy breathless and stunned and craving for the attention–

“It's oxygen manipulation." The footsteps ceased.

A questioning uh and Roy could hear his own heart ripping his way from chest to throat in mismatched beats. Edward was back on the couch in a split of a second, his whole body turned to its other occupant, so the major adjusted to a similar position.

“But how do you–"

The words spilled out of him, and Roy hoped that he didn't sound as starved as he felt:

“My gloves are made with phosphorus added between the fibers, so when I snap my fingers the friction generates a spark. It's called ignition cloth." Edward's irises were like two gems of gold, shining curiosity and heavy with something the alchemist couldn't quite name. “Then I focus on the atoms of oxygen in the atmosphere and move them around to make wide range flames."

The boy smiled, from ear to ear and sparkling under the yellow lamps of the room.

“That's pretty fucking neat, for a bastard."

Their days carried on with the soft weight of a shared secret and the nights became sweet sleeplessness. Roy was not restlessly teased anymore and, from time to time, Edward would raise his head from a book and their eyes would lock for a millisecond. In that small moment, the world came to a halt.

Edward wore his heart on his sleeve, so full of thoughts and emotions that all it needed to spill was a little tug. His favorite food was stew and his color was red. He started alchemy on his own. He loved Alphonse and would die for him. He lost his leg in an accident and his best friend Winry made his automail. He loved Winry and would die for her. He preferred Elric, his mother's last name, over Hohenheim. He lived through the equivalent exchange law.

So Roy told him about his alchemy. About his favorite books, his beloved records. He told him he loved flowers, especially sunflowers and water lilies. He complained about a faceless girl named Gracia, who stole his best friend away. The only ones who could put up with his shit were said best friend, Maes, and Riza. He was an orphan. There'll be a riot in Ishval, he was sure of it. He was scared of it. He hated guns, corrupt politicians and being alone.

It's not you, Roy reminded himself, he just wants company.

They sat in front of the unlit fireplace, arms and legs brushing, touching, draped over each other. Sometimes, Edward snuggled up against him, neverminding the itchy cloth of the blue uniform. He dared to pet blond hair more times then he could count and Ed liked to hold hands so Roy had to take his damn gloves off. And they talked, and talked, and talked, not once missing a chance to answer each other.

It's not you, he just wants company.

Until the fateful night, the Xerxian decided to put Roy's mouth to other uses. He threw himself into the officer's lap, trapping him to the couch with his knees on each side of Roy's hips, a daring smile adorning his expression. No, no, no, I'm older than you, what if I hurt you, what if someone sees us, what if, what if–

what if this is more than I can take

It's not you, he just...

Edward – brilliant, stunning Edward – covered the other's lips with his on, and just like before, Roy relented. Ed's fingers tangled in ink-black hair, tight and pulling in a way that forced a whimper out of him. Roy's hands roamed, grasping, squeezing, touching taunt muscles and every patch of exposed skin within reach. Their tongues slid together and Edward pressed down against the body underneath his, making the man's nerves sing with pleasure and desire.

It's not you.

So they moved from the sofa to the bed.

The next morning, Roy woke up amidst a mess of limbs and soft bed covers, legs tangled and his arm pale against a tanned torso. The acknowledgment of his sin hit him like a train wreck, his mind screaming for him to get up and out, maybe if he begged he could get a transfer and leave the young duke with another soldier to mess with. In the end, it wouldn't make a difference to the blond, and the man would die before admitting that the thought left a bitter taste in his tongue.

Edward's eyelids fluttered open, slowly and dizzy, revealing impossible golden irises. Instead of bolting out of the room, Roy allowed himself to indulge in the sight of the boy beside him, yawning and stretching, back arching in a cat-like manner. Edward smiled.

“So,” he let out a small laugh “How fired are you for this?”

Roy smiled back.

“Very, very fired. Maybe even an execution is in order.”

The blond laid on his side and kissed a pale shoulder with unnatural delicacy, mumbling something unintelligible.

“What did you say?”

“I said,” his voice louder and hinting annoyance “Is it worth it, though?”

Roy stared at him, blinking in confusion.

Oh. Oh.

And Edward had the audacity to blush.

A laugh bubbled its way through the soldier’s lips, and he pulled the boy closer to him. How could he ever think of giving away this sweet duty to another officer? Edward, irritated and obviously embarrassed, struggled to get out of the embrace, but the man just tightened the grip, overwhelmed by the thumps of his own heart.

“Nonono, Ed, don’t get angry at me, I’m not making fun of you, please!”

“Not making fun my ass, let go of me!”

He placed his hand over Ed’s jaw, forcing o look back at him. Roy felt warm all over, almost as if he was being tickled on the insides. He put his best efforts to contain the giggles but failed miserably.

“I mean it, I’m not! I would never make fun of you for something like that!”

“I said let me go, you bastard!”

An elbow hit Roy on the ribs.

“Ouch! It is worth it, Ed, it’s so worth it!”

The struggling ceased and the boy stared at him warily.

“...is it?”

His voice was almost a whisper, so Roy whispered in return:

“Yes, and I won’t ever regret it.”

He kissed the tip of Ed’s nose and the boy made a disgusted face.

The small alarm on the bedside sounded, announcing that Edward should get ready to join his family for breakfast and Roy should go to the door to wait for the man who would cover the next shift. The youths took their time to detangle from each other, and when they did Ed made his escape to the bathroom. Roy put his uniform on and then went to look at himself in the wall mirror, trying to fix his tousled hair. Deeming his appearance acceptable – the white shirt was a bit wrinkled and Ed had left a small purple mark oh his neck, so he had to button his jacket all the way up – he left the room to wait for his substitute.

The corridor was empty so there was no one to judge, but Roy lowered his head to hide the smile anyway.

[libraryscarf]

happy, happy, happiest of birthdays to my beautiful wife @themusicalbookworm. I wrote you a fic about Riza literally just having a nice time and enjoying herself at the Rockbell-Elric wedding. I hope you like it. <3 <3 <3

charming, in its own way ( ao3 / ff.net )

“Amazing, isn’t it?” Roy Mustang muttered, rather louder than was necessary. “Fullmetal made it through without imploding.”

In front of their gathered friends, neighbors, what seemed to be half the Amestrian military and more than a few rowdy chimeras, Edward Elric and Winry Rockbell shared their first kiss as husband and wife.

“Sir,” Riza said, sighing gently. “Please don’t ruin this for him.”

The ceremony was short, and quickly followed by the sound of multiple champagne bottles being popped open, and the tuning of an unorthodox quartet. Breda carefully assembled a gleaming flute, while Fuery hauled a tuba out of a case twice his size. Sig Curtis tightened the strings of an upright bass, and Garfiel, still sniffling wetly from the emotional turbulence of the ceremony, tested the keys of his accordion. As they began to play, Ed and Winry swept onto the swath of shorn grass that served as a dance floor, and were met with riotous applause

“Don’t trip, Fullmetal!” Roy crowed. Riza put her heel heavily on his instep, and he yelped.

Ed did not trip. In fact, it quickly became obvious that he was unable to hear or see anything else. His eyes never strayed from Winry’s soft, rosy smile.

“Some bubbly, Riz?” Rebecca Catalina asked, appeared at Riza’s side holding two champagne flutes.

“Please,” Riza said gratefully, taking the glass her friend held out to her.

“What, none for me?” Roy asked in a hurt tone.

“Nope!” Rebecca laughed buoyantly, sashaying into the crowd and appearing on the dance floor moments later with Zampano, who looked like he wasn’t quite sure how he had ended up there.

Riza looked at the dancers, her eyes smiling as she found Alphonse and Winry, who laughed as they waltzed, while Ed twirled Pinako around the dance floor like she weighed no more than a broomstick.

Roy turned to her and chivalrously offered his arm.

“Care to dance, Hawkeye?”

A sword materialized between them, smacking Roy’s hand with the flat and sending him stumbling backward.

“H-hey! Olivier—!”

“That’s General Armstrong to you, buffoon.”

The general sheathed her sword, and greeted Riza with a terse nod. “It’s always a pleasure to see you, captain.”

Riza gathered herself quickly enough to return the nod. “Likewise, general.”

Roy slunk around behind Riza, shielding half his body as Olivier Armstrong measured him up and down with eyes as cold as ice chips.

“What are you doing here?” he asked, forsaking any semblance of gallantry.

Armstrong looked at him down her nose.

“I consider the Elric brothers to be the sons I never had,” she said, inscrutably. Riza couldn’t tell if she was serious.

“Oh,” said Roy, at a loss for words.

“Shouldn’t you stop sniveling behind your subordinate and ask me to dance?” Armstrong asked. Riza could only give him a sympathetic half-smile as Roy offered the general his hand and escorted her to the dance floor—looking rather more like he was being led to the firing squad.

Riza finished her champagne, and snagged another glass from the trays traveling among the guests. She skirted the dance floor, avoiding interested eyes as she searched for an empty seat at one of the round, white-draped tables.

“Over here!” someone called to her, and Riza turned to see Alphonse waving at her from a nearby table. She smiled warmly at him as she took the seat he offered.

“This is such a beautiful wedding,” she said with sincerity. White and gold paper lanterns bloomed from wires strung between the trees, bathing the grassy reception in a fairyland glow. After the first few dances, the quartet had disbanded. They were replaced by a gramophone that wafted a soft, yearning melody over the crowd.

“Thank you,” Al said. The tips of his ears turned pink. “I did most of it. They needed someone tall.”

“Well, you have a wonderful eye for decoration.”

The pink spread from Al’s ears to his cheeks. “Actually, all of that was Winry. And Granny. And May. And Paninya.” He sighed. “Actually…everyone else except me.”

Riza chuckled generously.

“Still, they needed someone tall, didn’t they?”

She held up her glass. Al, after hesitating for a moment, grinned and clinked his against it.

“Yes, they did.”

The evening got cooler, and above the music of the gramophone, crickets began to sing. As the champagne flowed, along with other, stronger spirits, the party grew louder. Riza was on her third flute, and beginning to feel quite floaty in the head.

Roy stumbled off the dance floor and collapsed in the chair next to her, which had been left abandoned by Al once May pulled him aside for some “advice about the snack table,” and had never returned.

“It’s a war zone out there,” he wheezed, and slumped against her shoulder. “Comfort me, captain.”

Riza patted him professionally on the back. “There, there, sir.”

“I had to dance twice with Olivier—she led, by the way—and then I ended up having to congratulate Fullmetal for fifteen minutes, and of course to be polite I danced with his wife (lovely young lady, far too pretty for him)—and, Hawkeye, he glared at me the entire time, you’d think I had some sort of reputation—and then Breda spilled sauce down his shirt so I helped him clean it up, and then I looked for you, but ended up talking to Fullmetal again—did you know he’s been compiling some ancient Aerugan and Cretan alchemical records? Turns out their name for human transmutation was something like: ‘really bad idea,’ or maybe, ‘if you enjoy having limbs, don’t do this’—the old translation was kind of tough to parse…”

Riza tuned him out as he waxed on about alchemy for a bit longer. The champagne was making her chest feel very light.

“…And then I finally found you again, all the way here in the back by yourself,” he finished at last. He removed his weight from her shoulder, and Riza found herself missing it.

“I wasn’t alone the whole time,” she said honestly.

“Have you danced with anyone yet?” Roy asked.

“No,” she said.

“Good.”

His eyes found hers.

“I wanted to be your first dance tonight,” he said in a completely different tone: low and secretive.

Riza hoped it was merely the alcohol in her blood making it sing. Before she could respond, Rebecca collapsed without preamble into the chair on her other side, kicking her shoes onto the grass and rolling her ankles rapturously.

“What are the chances I could get either of you to massage my feet?” she groaned.

“Bad,” said Riza.

“I’ll do it,” offered Roy.

“No you won’t,” said Havoc, appearing on Rebecca’s other side. He handed her a glass of water, then sat down to pull her feet into his lap.

“You are the perfect man,” she sighed.

Riza stood up, stretching her spine.

“I’ll leave you two to…whatever this is.” She waved at Havoc and Rebecca. “I think it’s time I said hello to Edward and Winry.”

“I’ll come with you,” Roy said, standing quickly. They made it approximately fifteen steps before Gracia Hughes caught sight of them, tugging a drowsy Elicia in her wake as she came to say hello. Riza, after hugging both of them, excused herself.

Roy raised his eyebrows at her. Running off again?

She shook her head slightly, tilting her chin toward a flash of white in the crowd. Later.

He smiled in understanding, and carried on his conversation with Gracia while Riza worked her way over to Ed and Winry.

“Hawkeye!” said the groom joyfully as she approached. Then, catching himself, “I mean, uh. Captain!”

“Hawkeye is fine, Ed,” she said, laughing a bit as she hugged him. “You might even consider calling me Riza these days.”

Ed shivered at the thought.

“Nope. I’ll stick with Hawkeye. You still scare me.”

“Ed—!” rebuked Winry half-heartedly, and Riza turned to her. She could only assume the girl hadn’t been getting much sleep the past several days, but you would never know it from her appearance. When Winry’s face broke into a huge smile, Riza suddenly understood why Ed had been unable to look anywhere else.

“I’m so happy you could come, Miss Riza,” she said, her eyes shining.

Riza gave the bride a long, tight hug, and for the first time since the wedding had started, tears stung the back of her throat and the corners of her eyes. After letting go of Winry, she looked between the two of them, at their young faces lit from within with impossible delight.

“You both have my deepest congratulations,” she said with utmost sincerity. “I don’t think either of you could have chosen better.”

Ed blushed, and stammered out a thanks. Winry gazed at him fondly, and his stammering got worse.

“Articulate as always, Fullmetal,” said a deep voice from behind her, as Roy came up to her side.

“Shut up,” Ed muttered.

“Good evening, captain,” Roy said. His voice was close to her ear, making her heart slam against her ribcage.

“Good evening, sir,” she said calmly.

“Is your next dance spoken for?” he asked, offering her his arm.

“Actually—” Ed began to extend his hand, but his new wife elbowed him hard, and he swallowed the words. A secret, scheming smile was playing around the corners of Winry Rockbell-Elric’s mouth, and Ed knew better than to get in the way when she wore that look.

“It is not,” said Riza, truthfully.

“Then, shall we?”

They walked together to the dance floor, which was far more empty at this point in the night. Only four or five other couples still swayed to the music of the gramophone. Roy put one arm around her waist, tugging her close as his other hand took hold of hers.

Their dance was silent for a few minutes: a wordless communication of step and rhythm. Riza could feel that her cheeks were flushed from the champagne.

“It’s been a little while since we danced,” Roy said. The hand on her waist tightened as they did a half-spin.

“A few years,” she confirmed. Her hand crept slowly, slowly, from his shoulder to the back of his neck.

“We should make an effort to do it more often,” he said. “I think you might be rusty.”

“That’s entirely possible, sir.”

They circled and dipped, mirroring each other seamlessly. A few of the other dancers stepped off the dance floor, and the lights seemed to dim. The music from the gramophone changed, loosened from a waltz into something freer, sweeter.

Roy dropped her hand, and for a moment she thought the dance was ending. But rather than letting her go, he put both hands on her hips, sliding them up to her waist as he pulled her closer. Riza’s nose touched his shoulder, brushing the rough fabric of his dress uniform. After taking a moment to steady her breath, she wound both arms around his neck.

“You know,” he said. His breath was warm on her ear, and goosebumps prickled along her neck. “This whole ‘wedding’ thing is charming, in its own way.”

Riza shut her eyes. “I agree. Very charming.”

They swayed.

“I’d like to try it myself, if the time is ever right,” he said. His voice cracked, ruining the nonchalance of his words. “What do you think, Hawkeye? Is it a good idea?”

“A lot of people seem to think so,” she said, trying to ignore how she could feel his heartbeat against hers.

Roy chuckled. His arms around her were very, very warm.

“Someday, perhaps,” he murmured into her hair.

She rested her forehead against his shoulder. The music was soft, dying.

“Yes,” she whispered. “Maybe someday.”

[lightsaberss]

The Meaning of Death. Pt 3

I didn’t think this would get done, as I have a bit of a cold, but it turns out I can write between naps and blowing my nose! Please let me know if I’ve messed anything up though!

"I'm sorry, what the fuck did you just ask?" Edward asked.

He and Al had just arrived. Ed was fresh of the train from Resembool and he'd arrived in East City giddy with happiness (not that he'd admit it out loud, it was more of an internal giddyness) about Winry offering him her entire - well, eighty percent - of her life in exchange for his. He'd also been looking forward to seeing Al before they went their separate ways to the other ends of the country, and beyond. That happiness had crashed around him when he'd spotted First Lieutenant Breda.

Half an hour later, he and Al, who they'd picked up on the way, had been filled in on the situation, and he was now sitting opposite General Mustang while Al did the people person thing with Hawkeye in the living room.

Hawkeye. In the living room. Ed wasn't about to get over that any time soon.

"Human transmutation," Mustang repeated. "Are you sure it's not possible?"

Ed felt the palm of his hand itch, and he curled it into a fist. He just had to count to ten in his head, remember that Mustang had always been so fucking stupid about Hawkeye, and that punching him would only be temporarily satisfying. It'd also make Al pissed, and Ed didn't want to deal with a lecture from his younger brother, not over this anyway because it just wasn't worth it.

It wasn't even the question Mustang wanted to ask. He wanted to ask if it was possible to bring someone back from the dead. He just couldn't bring himself to say it.

"You can't use alchemy to bring the dead back to life, Mustang." Ed said. "Trust me, we tried and look where that got me and Al." As if to prove the point, Ed wrapped his knuckles against his automail leg.

"And Mrs. Curtis?"

"Wha- oh, I forgot you met her," Ed said. "She didn't do it either. Whatever we made, it wasn't the people we wanted."

"So it's really her?" Mustang asked, his voice tinged with hope. "It's not something else?"

Ed had seen too much to discount the possibility that it could be something else. He'd battled homunculi, he'd punched Father-God in the face, he'd travelled around most of Amestris and seen the craziest shit that no one would believe if they hadn't been there.

"Envy could shapeshift, but we saw him die," Ed pointed out. "I don't know that this isn't some other crazy shit, considering our lives are full of it. But sometimes the obvious solution is the one to go with. Alchemy can't bring the dead back to life, Mustang. Just take my word on that, will you?"

Ed's explanation came out more like a grumble, a complaint that he had to repeat himself. It was Mustang's reaction, the flicker of emotional pain that was so clear even Ed could see it that made Ed immediately want to take it back and say it gentler, nicer. Even Mustang didn't deserve to be kicked when he was down. Ed knew what it was like, the relief that things could've been worse, and the guilt and torment that things had still been horrific.

Al had lost his body, but been sealed into armor so he didn't die.

They'd brought something back, but it wasn't their mother. At least they hadn't killed her.

Hawkeye had been taken, and she'd lost her memory. At least she was alive.

Yeah, Ed knew what that felt like. It felt like complete and utter shit, and that was putting it mildly.

"So, what do we do now?" He asked, silently pleading for Mustang to just get his shit together. "I presume you have some sort of plan?"

Mustang took a deep breath, and sat up straight, his face a mask. It was something, a step in a direction, at least. Time would tell if it was the right one or not.

"We know where she ran into Havoc's car. If she can retrace her steps then we might be able to find where she was being held. It's a longshot that there will be anything, or anyone, there, but it's our first major lead." Mustang said. "Fuery and Breda are going over the Promised Day files to find what we missed, if there's anything there. It's a shame Falman went back to Briggs, we could use his mind right now."

"And what about her?" Ed asked, jabbing his head in the direction of the living room so Mustang knew exactly who he was talking about.

"I'll ask Lieutenant Catalina to get her some medical attention, and see what they have to say about her amnesia." Mustang said. "After that, we'll figure it out."

"Just don't do anything fucking stupid."

"I could say the same to you, Fullmetal."

Ed scrunched his face up at the use of his former Alchemist title. "Yeah, whatever, old timer. I never do anything stupid." Not that Ed believed himself for a second. "I'll stick around until this is sorted, in case you need the help. Don't say thanks though, that'd be fucking weird."

***

People had been coming and going all day, Riza had noticed with some interest. Most of the time, they came and went without telling her what was going on, with the exception of Rebecca and Jean, who had the courtesy to tell her that they were going home for a change of clothes and a two hour nap. Rebecca had placed a slip of paper with her phone number on it, just in case 'General Sulkypants' got too annoying. Most of the time though, they came and went without a word, and considering most of the chatter that she overheard was about her, it was beginning to become incredibly frustrating.

There were new voices in the house now, ones that unsurprisingly she didn't recognise. To her, it was just more people to gawk at her awkwardly, who wouldn't know what to say about either her past or what had happened while she was gone, and who would gloss over parts of her past because they didn't want to talk about it and she didn't want to push them and hurt them more than she already had. The whole thing was a mess, and she was glad she had Hayate, because at least the dog didn't treat her strangely.

Both of the new people peeked in at her, both blonde men with a passing similarity to each other that made her think they were brothers, but one of them went into the kitchen with Roy - who was currently unable to look at her - and the other one came in and sat with her.

"So. How do I know you?" Riza asked, before he had a chance to speak. Might as well get the awkward reintroductions over with, so they could move on to the far more awkward discussion about how yes, she really didn't remember much of anything.

"I'm Alphonse," He said. Unlike everyone else, he smiled warmly at her. "I didn't expect you to recognise me anyway, last time we saw each other I was a suit of armor, or it's possible that I was a really skinny version of my brother, the first few hours after coming back are a bit of a blur, to be honest."

Riza blinked a couple of times, "A suit of armor?" She asked.

Alphonse nodded, and went into an explanation that he'd obviously done a few times, and had it well practiced. About his mother, about the mistakes he and his brother had both made in deciding to bring her back, how Edward had lost his leg, and he'd lost his entire body in the process, then how Edward had brought his soul back and attached it to a suit of armor in exchange for his arm. While the tale itself was almost impossible to believe, Riza wasn't surprised by any of it.

"Did your armor have pointy bits on it?" She asked. Whatever reaction Alphonse had expected her to have, this one obviously surprised him. "On the shoulders, and, I think the head? I just have this vague memory of a metal man holding me while fire rages around me and I'm screaming."

"You remember the fight with Lust?" He asked.

"Who's Lust?" Riza asked.

"One of the homunculi." Alphonse replied, and at the lost look on her face he begun to explain what had happened prior to her going missing. He admitted that when it came to her role in all of it, there was a lot he didn't know and a lot of questions he hadn't asked but now wished he had, but he explained what had happened as best he could. Unfortunately, the whole thing just made Riza feel even more confused and lost.

"There really is so much I don't remember, isn't there?" Riza asked, feeling defeated and confused. How could she have forgotten something like that? She'd been under the impression that her life - with the exception of Roy's flame alchemy, and her father - had been normal. She'd had friends, a job, and a past that didn't feature anything stranger than her tattoo, but it wasn't like that at all. Memories that should have been burned into her had been either taken or locked away by something, and she had no idea what or how to get them back.

"You remembered me," Alphonse pointed out kindly. "We're all going to help you remember the rest."

It was true, there were snatches of memories mixed up in her head, they were impossible to place along a timeline and she had no idea what most of them meant. Maybe they were just locked up in her head somehow and she just needed to figure out how to get them back.

"Thank you, for explaining everything," Riza said. "And for saving my life before."

"You don't need to thank me for that." Alphonse insisted. "You would've done the same for me, for any of us."

"Would I?" Riza asked, and even to her own ears she sounded melancholy. "I don't remember."

***

Rebecca was delightfully out of breath as she and Jean collapsed into bed next to each other, grinning up at the ceiling in a post coital haze. She took a couple of deep breaths, giggled involuntarily and glanced over at Jean, who was reaching for a pack of cigarettes.

"Don't you dare smoke those in here, you know the rule." She snapped.

"Aww, c'mon, Becca." Jean said, and he leaned in close and nuzzled her neck, he placed light kisses down to her shoulder, which made her close her eyes and smile. "Please?"

"Ugh. Fine, just this once." She agreed.

They'd left the safe house with the intention of going back to hers, getting some sleep, having a shower, and then changing into clean clothes before they either headed back or went to HQ, depending on whatever had been decided in the few hours they'd be away. However, when they got back neither of them could sleep. It didn't matter that they were exhausted, both of them were too wired to relax, so Rebecca had decided to fix that in her usual fashion, by kissing Jean until she couldn't remember what had her so stressed in the first place.

Rebecca shifted around in the bed until she was comfortable, and closed her eyes. She was just drifting off to sleep, Jean's free hand brushing her hair gently, when the phone rang. Loudly.

"Ugh. No. I'm not here." Rebecca insisted, and rolled over and pressed her face against the pillow, while Jean chuckled. "Can't you get it?"

"C'mon, sleeping beauty. You know it's probably something to do with Hawkeye." He said, and nudged her until she got out of bed. She grabbed his shirt and slipped it on before going to answer the phone.

"Hello?" She asked, trying not to sound too annoyed until she knew who was calling.

"Lieutenant, I need you to come back to the safe house." Mustang said, and okay, now she didn't feel bad about being rude.

"Why, what have you done now?" She asked.

"I haven't done anything. I need you to take her to see a doctor."

Rebecca frowned, "Is Riza okay?" She asked. She'd only been gone a few hours, and her wounds were superficial enough that they were cleaned up with some rubbing alcohol and a few plasters. What could have happened since then?

"She's fine, I just want her to get checked out." He said.

"And what does she want?" Rebecca challenged.

"She's been MIA for two years, getting checked out by a doctor is hardly something worth discussing."

"So you haven't talked to her about this?" Rebecca asked. "Apart from the one awkward conversation this morning, have you talked to her at all?"

"Lieutenant."

"What?" She asked. "You can't just hide."

"Be here in an hour."

Mustang didn't wait for a response, and she slammed the phone down in frustration. It wasn't that she didn't understand, she did, she knew how difficult it was, but Mustang had always acted like he was the only one in the world that lost her, and anyone else grieving was infringing on his personal pain. Now Riza was back, and Rebecca knew how guilty he must be feeling, that they didn't search hard enough after the explosion that took out part of the medical tents where she'd been seen last, that they accepted the official line too easily, that she and the others had perished under the rubble. Rebecca knew how that felt, because she was feeling it herself. Every time she looked at Riza, it was like a stab through the heart, but that wasn't Riza's fault. It was her own.

"What's going on?" Jean asked from the doorway of her bedroom. "Hey, you okay?"

"I'm fine. Just pissed off at Mustang and upset about Riza." Rebecca admitted, maybe she was anything other than fine. "I have to go back and take Riza for a medical. You should get some sleep."

"Couldn't someone else do that?" Jean asked.

"Probably, but I'm the lucky winner." She crossed the space between them and gave him a quick kiss. "Go on, bed. I'm gonna shower and then head back out."

***

Riza closed her eyes against the harsh white light and tried to think about anything other than the feel of the hospital gown against her skin, and the prick of the needle as they drew another vial of blood. Her skin felt uncomfortably hot, and her heart felt like it was going to beat out of her chest at any moment. She really didn't want to be here.

It reminded her of The Lab. She hadn't talked about it with anyone, the white walls, the 'medical team' who poked and prodded her without explanation, and the beatings when she didn't do what they wanted her to. Although she couldn't remember what they had wanted her to do. There were no motives in her memories, no faces either, just disembodied voices and pain.

"We're almost done." The doctor said, and Riza nodded and tried to regulate her breathing.

While her thoughts wandered, she found that they more often than not kept returning to Roy Mustang. Why, she had no idea. Maybe it was that he was attractive, but she didn't think it was just that. Out of everyone, he seemed to know the most about her past, even if there were parts he was unwilling to talk about. How much did he know? And what were they to each other if he knew more than everyone else? These were the thoughts that she clung to, instead of the harsh light of her medical checks.

"There. All done." The doctor said. "You're a little underweight, but not alarmingly so. As for the rest, well. I'm sure it comes to no surprise to you that you have amnesia."

Riza answered this with a look of annoyance, and the doctor coughed awkwardly before he continued. "According to your x-rays, it doesn't look like you've suffered any head trauma, although there is evidence that you've suffered physical trauma in the past."

"Will my memories return?" Riza asked, not surprised by the results.

"There's no guarantee." The doctor replied. "There's a chance that you'll never remember your life previous to where your memories begin, but there's also a chance that you will. I suggest you try to familiarise yourself with your life before hand, even if you don't get your memories back, it'll help you feel less lost."

Riza nodded. "Can I get out of this gown now?"

The doctor stepped out of the room, and Riza listened as he explained the same thing to Rebecca outside the door as she changed back into the borrowed clothes. She'd need clothes of her own, and a place to stay, and a job. Would the military take her back if she couldn't remember being in it? And did she even want to be in the military? Riza had no idea how to begin rebuilding her life from the ground up.

Rebecca was waiting for her when she left the examination room. "So, you're a bit on the skinny side? I could've told you that." She joked. "Want to get some food?"

"What did we do for fun?" Riza asked, as they headed for the exit.

"We went shopping, ate food, went drinking, sometimes we'd sit around and eat Xingese takeout and complain about boys." Rebecca said. "Well, I'd complain about boys and you'd listen."

"How about something that doesn't cost money?" She asked.

"Oh?" Rebecca asked, and then got a wicked grin on her face. "Well, we could go shooting. I'll get you on the range, no problem."

***

Riza looked at the gun, and she took it in her hands and tested the weight of it. She couldn't tell you its name, or caliber, but she could take it apart and put it back together, and she knew how to shoot it. It was instinctive, like breathing.

Rebecca had looked incredibly stunned as Riza silently, and initially slowly, broken the handgun down into its smaller parts, and then quickly put it back together. Riza couldn't explain how she knew how to do it, she couldn't remember doing it before, but here she was.

"I swear, if you're still a better shot than me, I'm going to be pissed." Rebecca said, eyes still wide at Riza's skill with the weapon.

"Was I good?" Riza asked, the ear protection around her neck.

"They didn't call you the Hawks Eye for nothing."

"Whoever 'they' were had terrible imagination." Riza said. "Fine, lets see how I do."

Riza put the ear protection on, and the goggles to protect her eyes. She picked up the gun, she felt the comforting weight of it, the feel of it in her hands felt familiar, and she smiled to herself as she aimed and shot. Once her clip was empty, she hit the button to draw the paper outline of the man towards her, and with some satisfaction she noted that each bullet had met their mark.

"Okay, that's not fair." Rebecca said, from behind her. "You don't even remember ever shooting, and you're still better than me."

"Must be muscle memory." Riza said. "Or you're just not a very good shot."

Rebecca looked stunned, and Riza was seconds away from apologising when Rebecca started to laugh. "God, Riza, I really missed you." She said, once her laughter had subsided. "I know you don't remember but…"

"The list of things I don't remember isn't just limited to you," Riza pointed out. "Come on, let's go get some food and you can complain about boys or whatever it is you like to do."

"You sure?"

"Yeah, but I don't have any money so I'll have to owe you."

"Don't be stupid," Rebecca said. "This one's on me."

[purging-foxfire]

Prompt: Theme C: Legacy

Length: Around 1′825 words

Notes: I thought about writing something little around 500 words, but I got to excited... Also sorry for Al... Tomorrow’s prompt is family so he definitely gets his spotlight!

“Who are you?”

Dark eyes that speak of many tales, bore into him, almost as if they could look through him into his soul.

“Edward,” he mutters, before he straightens himself and speaks up, louder than before. “Edward Hohenheim.”

He hates that name, but if he wants to achieve his goal, he must use it in every way possible.

“Hohenheim… Hohenheim the Light’s son?!”

Mutters fill the hall and now thousands of gazes settle on him, searching for answers to their questions. Answers he might have – or might not. The man with the darkest orbs he has ever seen, looks at him with an unreadable mask.

“What might the great Hohenheim’s son want here?”

Besides the hall in which everyone was standing, there were only ruins. Ruins of houses and places, that once stunned and stole the breaths of every person, that took a step into this forgotten city among a sea of the clearest water he has ever seen.

“I’m seeking for something,” he answers, but doesn’t bother to specify. If everything goes his way, the people would end up with a reconstructed home, and he would have the information, and maybe even, the means to get what he wants.

The dark one narrows his eyes, but soon his expression is once again devoid of anything.

“And you mean to find it here? In nothing but mere ruins?”

“No,” Edward speaks, nothing but truthful. “I won’t find it here. Though a way to find it…”

And he doesn’t end his sentence, because he knows the other understands what he’s saying. It’s silent for a while, everyone too curious to disturb their conversation. Suddenly, a woman with blond hair steps forward, her brown eyes staring at him, like steel, unwavering.

“Riza!” the dark one whispers harshly. There is concern hidden in the voice, and Edward knows this woman is important.

“How do you plan to get whatever you want? You don’t believe someone will just tell you anything?”

Her voice is unforgiving and cold, but he can hear the curiosity in it. He snorts, surprising a lot of the people. “Of course not, I have thought this over though. There is something that I could offer.”

Now everyone’s face is filled with wonder and suspicion. They don’t trust easily, a good quality to have.

“And what would you offer be,” speaks the dark one, now standing in front of the woman, trying to shield here.

Edward smirks, as his eyes shine in the light of rays, that come through some gaps in the roof.

“The restoration of your city; in simple words, I’ll reconstruct every building here.”

Gasps fill the hall now, and everyone starts whispering. Even the dark one looks mildly shocked.

“How…,” whispers a man in the back, with blond hair and blue eyes.

“Hohenheim’s legacy,” he answers simply, and everyone understands, because they all have heard about the legends and tales of Hohenheim the Light.

“Well? What’s your answers?”

The people look at each other for some minutes, before the dark one speaks up.

“I’m Roy Mustang… and we’re willing to handle with you, if you show us prove.”

And showing them prove he does, once he clasps his hands and pretty building stands in the middle, of what once has been dirt and stones. Before he knows it, there are people cheering, shouting and laughing, as they stand in the middle of a gorgeous city with shining buildings.

Roy and Riza stare at him with the most grateful gaze he has ever seen.

“Tell us what you want to know – anything.”

And thus, he tells them about corpses, red stones and a dead little brother.

It started when they were kids, Alphonse nine, and Edward himself ten. They had a loving mother and hardworking father. So hardworking and absent, that he didn’t notice how his wife was rotting away, in only the company of their children. Or maybe, he noticed, maybe he knew all along. Edward wouldn’t put it past him.

Like mentioned, the mother, Trisha, was dying slowly and painfully – though very good at hiding it despite the pain. And one day, when they last expected it, she collapsed – and never opened her eyes again. It was one that fateful day, where they father came back, every intent to make things better, as he showed them a red stone (oh, how much Edward hated that stone, despised it to it’s core). He didn’t make things better – he made them so, so much worse.

There is always price for everything, anything. And like a fool, Hohenheim believed his life would be price enough for his beloved Trisha – except that it wasn’t. It never could be, and never would be.

Truth, the probably cruelest and yet wisest god he has ever met, doesn’t take too kindly to people, who try to verify the price of a live.

“A life for one? Don’t make me laugh! What about the memories? The experiences? The age? The amount of love and everything? You see a life is unpriceable.”

A speechless father and two scared children. Truth took his price.

“A man, a child and two limbs – there you go, have your beloved wife back.”

And Edward woke up to a deformed corpse, missing two limbs, and with only the last words of his father and brother to remember them by.

“Destroy them – this was a horrible mistake; how couldn’t I see? Destroy them all, Edward! Do you hear me? Des..tr.. the.. all – th… red.. sto…”

“Brother!! Don’t… do… anything stupid… I love…y…”

Edward doubted he would ever try to repeat what his father did.

“My best friend, Winry, and her grandma, Pinako, found me and gave me two metal limbs upon my wish. Then we buried the corpse – Pinako and me, Winry shouldn’t have to see… it… - after that, I searched through the things in my father’s studies. Those stones… there were a lot of them… I found his notebook with the location of every stone… He never put them in the same place… too scared someone might find them and take them all.”

“Obviously, people found them and tales were told. As for the notebook… some of the papers were torn and it was clear, that not every location was in the notebook… but I promised myself and Al – heck, even that bastard of a father, that I would destroy them all. And the one I’m searching… it’s the last one, and I heard people here would have legends and…”

He doesn’t finish speaking – too exhausted, too tired and they respect that.

They give him the knowledge he wants – the last red stone’s hiding place. In the middle of a desert of course, and Edward - something cold and dark settling in his stomach – already knows which one. Of course his bastard of a father would hid it where his hometown once resided. Stupid, he chides himself. He should have known.

“Thank you,” he says, ready to leave. But they stop him. Roy, Riza and four other guys.

“We’ll come with you,” Roy says, and there is determination in his voice and fire in his eyes. Fire that could burn worlds.

“And don’t you dare to protest,” Riza speaks, and there under the shining light of the sun, besides Roy, she is water. The water that could drown worlds, that holds Roy’s fire in check – and Edward agrees, too stunned to say anything else.

They travel some days and he gets to know them. He gets to know Havoc with his driving skills and cigarettes, he gets to know Breda with his funny jokes, he gets to know Fuery with his knowledge about technology and his shy manner and he gets to know Falman with his knowledge on everything.

He sees Riza’s gentle side, as she gives him her jacket when she thinks he is too cold, and he gets to see her strict side, as she chides him from injuring himself – even if they are mere scraps and scratches.

He sees Roy’s serious side, as he explains the danger of some actions to Edward and commands him to stay by their side, but he also meets Roy’s fun side, which is all about teasing and ruffling Edward’s hair.

And Edward notices – of course he does – they behave so weird around him, almost like - like parents.

But he ignores it, because he doesn’t have parents, and he certainly doesn’t have a life after this.

They find the stone among ruins (how funny) and Edward destroys it. The legacy of his father is gone. It’s that simple.

But it gets difficult once he turns around, facing the people that spend the last weeks with him. Which he grew to like – which grew to like him. He doesn’t know what to say, but he knows what he wants to say – goodbye.

(Or does he?)

He tells himself that it’s better soon – to vanish completely, too take that terrible knowledge with him into the depths of nothing, but forgetfulness.

But then he looks up and six pair of eyes stare at him with happiness and relief for him, with love. And he wants to cry so badly and he remembers.

“Hey, Ed? How old are you even?”

“… 15. I’ve been doing this for five years.”

And he remembers how they always used to ask him what he would do once he was finished – as if they didn’t doubt he would finish.

“Well, Pinako and Winry live somewhere else now… we were the only ones in that town and after – I guess they wanted to see some new sights… And I guess… I have no idea what I’m going to do after this.”

He was always too scared to tell them, that he planned to die after everything.

“Hey… Edward…”

And now Riza is standing before him, a hand on his shoulder, looking at him with… uncertainty and something like fear?

“Would you like…” Roy continues, and Edward is too used that those both simply know how to end each other sentences. They do that often and he knows that comes with their knowledge of each other and time.

Roy wears the same look as Riza, and Edward is worried.

But then Havoc grins, as he lies and arm around Roy shoulders.

“Come on!”

And Fuery smiles encouragingly at Riza. Then both, Roy and Riza, stare at each other, communicating with each other, before looking at Edward.

“Would you like to live with us?”

“We have a spare bedroom.”

But he hears the words hidden in their sentences – Would you like to start off new? We wouldn’t mind looking after you.

Like parents, like family.

And suddenly he knows he can cry. He does, in front of them, and the panic.

“Brother!! Don’t… do… anything stupid… I love…y…”

Don’t do anything stupid.

“I… I would love that… living with you.”

A new legacy to carry one. A better on.

A family.

[avengerdragoness]

Just One Song? [Jason Todd x Reader]

A/N: If you saw my post a while back, you know what this is. I hope you all enjoy this! @memento-scribet here you go, you said you needed some fluff. <3

Warning: MAJOR FLUFF

Song: Ed Sheeran ‘Perfect’

_______

If their is one thing you cherish, it’s walking in on Jason singing. He never sings around others, always saying it ‘wasn’t good.’ However, he has the most amazing voice. Very few know of this hidden talent, the only others who know this are Alfred and Bruce.

Whenever you come through the door or wake up and hear him, you immediately freeze as to not let him know of your presence. Loving when you can catch him with his back turned and can just watch and listen.

Every time he realizes you were listening he gets embarrassed even though it was beautiful. Whenever you ask him why he doesn’t sing more often it’s always the simple answer of “I just don’t sing around people.” However you think he’s insecure about it. He shouldn’t be though because he has an amazing voice and you don’t hesitate to tell him that.

But you don’t pester, knowing it will only make him agitated. You’re content with just catching him in the act. Your relationship progresses with or without his singing. And soon enough he’s down on one knee while you’re cheering “Yes!” and pulling him to his feet to plant your lips on his.

That’s right you’re engaged to the vigilante. And wedding planning isn’t quite up his alley. So you take care of most things with a friend of yours and Alfred of course, while he’s out taking care of the city. Though it seems like he’s doing some sort of planning himself. He’s been absent during the day and always humming some sort of tune.

You take notice of his fingers being even more calloused than usual and his voice is sometimes scratchy or quieter than normal like he’s losing it. Though, over time his voice returns to normal and his fingers seem to have grown used to the new callouses. Leaving you to think it was just some sort of new training.

After his voice grew normal again and his fingers adjusted he began to pester you to help, saying he’d take care of the band. You were a bit reluctant, thinking it should be a joint decision, but he was so determined about it you gave him the task. Alfred promise to keep an eye on him, but you trusted Jason to make the best choice.

You were so caught up in the planning and dress shopping and cake tasting it was a blur. Before you knew it you were at the rehearsal dinner. Happy to see everyone there, your family & friends, Jay’s family, even some of the league members. Oliver and Dinah were there with Roy, Barry and Iris with Wally, Of course Kori. Plus a few others through Bruce.

You weren’t expecting such a large guest list but Bruce insisted on taking care of any expenses. It was a great rehearsal, but when it was over it was soon time for your friends to swoop you away saying “Can’t see the bride before the wedding”

You laughed at the look on his face, but broke free from your friends. Gave him a quick kiss before returning to them.

It was lonely that night, not being used to sleeping without Jason. Not that you couldn’t sleep either way. It was too exciting, that next afternoon you’d be marrying the love of your life, who could sleep knowing that?

The day was hectic. Primping and plucking through all hours of the day. A friend doing your hair, having denied when asked if you wanted a stylist. You didn’t want anything too out of your normal and your friend knew just what to do.

Then was getting into your dress and making sure everything was perfect. Soon you were left to be on your own for a bit. Your brides maids running to do any last minute checks. Though one brides maid stayed with you, Kori. She stood behind you as you were in awe at how you looked.

“You look gorgeous” She commented, making you turn and smiling at her. “I feel like a princess” lightly touching the fabric. She came and stood next to you, “You look like one”

“I can’t wait to see Jason’s face” she giggled causing you to do the same. “Yeah” breathing out a sigh, lightly swaying to allow dress to sway as well. “I am so happy for the both of you, it is about time something good happen to Jason. You are the best thing to happen to him” she said sentimentally.

“Kori I swear if you make me cry right now I’ll never forgive you” You laughed turning to her. She laughed too before hugging you and whispering, “go get your prince” before turning to leave you to yourself.

Looking back at the mirror you felt so many different feelings: giddiness, nervousness, fear, joy, love. You felt so much love. Remembering what seemed like every memory with Jason in it. Losing yourself in your thoughts before hearing a knock on the door.

“Come in” you called. Your mother came in and smiled widely at the sight of you. Tears threatening her eyes, “You look so beautiful sweetheart” making you grin wider. “I feel beautiful” looking back at the mirror. She hugged you before saying “Okay before I cry, it’s time dear” gesturing for you to come.

Taking a deep breath you followed, lining up behind your brides maids. Plus the flower girl and ring bearer, Lian looking adorable in her flower girl dress and your brother’s son wearing a tiny tux. 

It was just perfect.

But not as perfect as Jason’s reaction upon seeing you. The boy couldn’t breath, so many tears he almost made you cry. This was probably most people’s first time seeing his soft side. He couldn’t believe how gorgeous you looked, it was like an angel.

As the ceremony went on you both couldn’t help but continually look at the other. When it came to the vows, Jason did make you cry. His words were the most beautiful thing you’d ever heard. And he felt the same way about yours.

Finally you got to say your ‘I do’s and it didn’t take Jason more than a millisecond to kiss you when told. He dipped you and everything.

The reception was the next thing. It was beautiful, in the back of the Manor in the gardens. You and Jason had your first dance as Mr. & Mrs. Todd. You danced with your father, and Bruce, and all of Jason’s brothers. Including yours and many of your other family members.

You listened to the stories your best friend/maid of honor had of you and the many hilarious stories Roy had as Jason’s best man. It was amazing and you couldn’t think of anything to make it better. But it somehow managed too.

Talking to one of your aunts you were soon interrupted by a microphone back firing. “Whoops sorry about that” You heard Jason’s voice say before a laugh. “I uh, I have a surprise for someone tonight. [F/n] you always ask me to sing for you and I never do it ever because I’m a bit nervous about it. But tonight’s special and we both overcame many fears today, so what’s one more? This is for you babe, I love you” he said before putting a microphone in his ear and beginning to strum on a guitar, a song you know all to well. The first time you listened to it, it almost brought you to tears. ‘Perfect’ by Ed Sheeran.

Hearing the guitar now explained the new callouses he obtained, and when he started singing it explained his sore voice from before. His usual voice was even more beautiful, obviously having taken lessons.

Making your way to the front upon hearing the first lyrics. 

“I found a love for me Darling, just dive right in and follow my lead Well, I found a girl, beautiful and sweet Oh, I never knew you were the someone waiting for me 'Cause we were just kids when we fell in love Not knowing what it was I will not give you up this time But darling, just kiss me slow, your heart is all I own And in your eyes you're holding mine”

Stopping upon reaching the front of the crowd. Covering your face before uncovering your eyes. In a way that it covered your nose and mouth only.

“Baby, I'm dancing in the dark with you between my arms Barefoot on the grass, listening to our favorite song When you said you looked a mess, I whispered underneath my breath But you heard it, darling, you look perfect tonight”

He sang while coming off the stage, and pulling your hands away from your face to see your smile. The band taking over with the music as he continued. 

“Well I found a woman, stronger than anyone I know She shares my dreams, I hope that someday I'll share her home I found a love, to carry more than just my secrets To carry love, to carry children of our own We are still kids, but we're so in love Fighting against all odds I know we'll be alright this time Darling, just hold my hand Be my girl, I'll be your man I see my future in your eyes”

Your heart melting at the third and fourth line. He cupped your face during those lines before taking your hands and pulling you to dance while he sung to you.

“Baby, I'm dancing in the dark, with you between my arms Barefoot on the grass, listening to our favorite song When I saw you in that dress, looking so beautiful I don't deserve this, darling, you look perfect tonight“

Waltzing around the empty dance floor in what felt like an empty world with only the two of you in it. A smile on both your faces as the band played during a instrumental portion of the song. Jason rested his forehead against yours and you closed your eyes. 

“Baby, I'm dancing in the dark, with you between my arms Barefoot on the grass, listening to our favorite song I have faith in what I see Now I know I have met an angel in person And she looks perfect, I don't deserve this You look perfect tonight“

He slowed you to a stop on the second to last line. Leaving you to stare into the others eyes as the song drew to a close. You cupped his face and kissed him as the violins ended the song. What seemed to feel like a romance movie moment.

Pulling away you grinned widely as his lips matched yours. Ignoring the applause from everyone and hearing multiple people, including his brothers, asking “Did you know he could sing?”

Though Alfred and Bruce just smiled contently at the scene, knowing full well what Jason was up to. Who do you think got him the singing, guitar, and waltz lessons?

It was a perfect end to the perfect night.

Bonus (After Honeymoon):

You walked out of the bathroom having ran in there after getting home from work. Jason just figured you really had to use the bathroom, having not seen the bag in your hands.

“Uhm, hey Jay?” You called, making him look at you from where he was seated on the couch. Reading a new novel he got on your vacation. “Yeah Mrs. Todd?” he grinned, you’d been home from your honeymoon for a few months and that still made you tingle.

“You remember the song you sang to me?”

One of his eyebrows raised and he smiled saying, “Yeeess?”

“Well their was a verse that read ‘To carry love, to carry children of our own.’ Remember?” You reminded and he nodded confused as to where you were going with this.

“Weeelll.” Taking the three sticks from behind your back. “The line got what it wanted” presenting the three positive pregnancy tests.

His eyes widened as he rushed over to see the items. “Oh my god” he whispered. “We’re going to be..?? I’m going to be..?” looking at you shock on his face

“A father! An awesome, amazing father!” you smiled widely. He showed a beaming smile before sweeping you into a hug and spinning you around. Then putting you down and pulling you into a deep loving kiss. “We’re going to be parents” he placed a hand on your stomach his eyes diverting there before returning to yours. 

You nodded as he just kissed you again.

You know what they say: First comes love. Then comes marriage. And well you know the rest.

[bleedingcoffee42]

Absent 34

Tracking Tag

xxxxx

“You brought me the coin.”  Roy said, trying to get back on track.  He looked down at the drawing in front of him and added some more details.   Maybe he drew her boobs too big...nah.    “What happened next?”

“I knew you were going to start asking questions and I wasn't sure what was going on, so I excused myself.   You followed me into the hall and I could tell you were going to try and take the coin and demand to know who I was so...I told you I was just using it to get close to you and asked you out.” She reported.

Roy stopped doodling.   He smiled.   “You asked me out?”

“For coffee.”  She said and smiled. His good mood could be infectious.    “You told me you were busy. Apparently you wanted to help Ed with his research more than get coffee with me.”

“Other me is an absolute moron.” Roy huffed.  “I'm sorry, but no wonder he got killed.”

She gave him a glare.   That wasn't funny.  The sight of him dead was going to haunt her for a while.  He wasn't looking at her, he was drawing.   “I persisted and asked you out for dinner.   You should have seen your blush and stammering. You were absolutely adorable.”

Roy bit his lip and looked up at her. “In my defense you have never asked me out to dinner in a flirty manner before.”

“I didn't say I flirted.”

“You got that satisfied tone of voice that said, 'I flirted and you were putty in my hands'.”  Roy grinned and saw in her smile that it was exactly what happened.  “I mean, it's your fantasy I certainly would be more than happy to accommodate you.”

“Anyhow, I used that to get away from you so you couldn't get my name and call Hughes to find out I didn't work here.   Or live here.”  Riza sighed.   “I had to figure out what was going on.  I figured my best bet was to determine what happened to me.   So I called my hometown and found out I was still there and that I was an alchemist.  When we had our dinner date you told me that you had gone to see my father when you were looking for a teacher, but he slammed the door in your face because you fixed the handrail instead of the tea set.”

“And my Mom yelled at me for touching another man's China.”  Roy smirked.   “Saved my life apparently.”

Riza shook her head.  Roy's commentary always made her smile.  The way he could tell stories, the way he always made her feel at ease...made this easier to relive and reiterate.  “So you left and found Van Hohenheim and studied bio-alchemy with him and specialized in Bio-electricity because of Rockbell automail next door. “

“I got certified with that?”  Roy asked incredulously.

“According to you, barely.”

“As the guy who is currently in charge of that committee, I think I would have been lucky to get in the door for the written exam having listed that as my specialty. Not that I don't think it's a valuable science, but the military has no use for something they can outsource to the private sector and not utilize as a weapon.  Sure there are automail techs, but a State Alchemist with bio-alchemy expertise outside a lab?  What was I even doing in HQ?”

“Clearly not dating any woman.” She said and he pouted.

“I was waiting on you.” He said and winked.  “I have high standards. Only perfection will do.”

“Anyhow....”  She said.  “You thought that the coin was bio-electricity based.  You though it interfered with synapses firing...”

“Oh my God, this other me was a complete idiot.” Roy threw his pencil down and gestured at the paper.   “Your subconscious thinks that I am complete incompetent, both alchemy and romantically.  This has nothing to do with bio-electricity, just chemicals.   Sure there is a small section here where it could be about stimulating the production of...”

“Sir!”  She said and he looked up at her.  “This is my subconscious and I was trying to make sense of a place I didn't belong and a coin that I had no idea about. It was my first thought and eventually you admitted it was the wrong one.   Of course I thought you would have the answer so naturally I must have thought it would involve your specialty.   This was a dream and all the information that was used in it was somewhere in my subconscious.   It was a huge information dump, throwing out all kinds of options for me to sort through because that is the nature of this deep sleep.  It's more vivid, it's more..complex.   It's almost like you can't filter ideas before you speak them, everything is out there as plausible no matter how bogus the science or reasoning.   It's...surreal.  It's such a odd experience because you can feel when things are right and know things without experiencing them as if you were reading a book...however you have to explore everything in order to get the information you need to put together this puzzle and you can't reach out past the unknown to get it. It's....tiring.”

Roy nodded and saw her think about something.  She turned to him with a questioning look.

“Is that what it's like for you?” She asked.  Something Kimblee had said suddenly bubbled to the surface and she was curious.   “As an alchemist.  Is that what reality is like for you all the time?”

Roy leaned forward and thought about it.   “Is that not what it's like for you?”

Riza was surprised by that answer.   Never did she consider that he genuinely experienced the world differently than her.   She had erroneously thought being an alchemist could be controlled like the alchemy, but it made sense that in order to use alchemy the alchemist had to change to see the world through different eyes.   She had always known Roy operated on many levels of thought, but...all the time?  “No.”

“I don't think you give yourself enough credit, Riza.”  Roy said softly.   “You may not be an alchemist in the sense that you have learned to assess the materials around you and know what you could use for a transmutation if needed....or pay attention to the wind movements based on how the flag is flying so you know the air resistance you will encounter if you need to manipulate oxygen...but you still see it all.  You still look around a room to see the layout if you need to retreat or use furniture for defenses, changing shape to suit your needs.  You still look at the skyline to see where a sniper might perch to take a shot and the wind resistance a bullet would encounter.  You see what I see for different reasons.  You just don't have a need to break it down to the molecular level, but you still see the world with more layers than most.   It's why I believe you would be capable of performing alchemy if you wanted to.  I see it in how you see things.”

“That's a product of paranoia from combat and my training as a sniper.”

“It's occupational hazard if you will.”  Roy said.  “You just chose a different occupation than me.   However you still had all this when we first met to some degree.  That damned muzzle loader of yours was temperamental as hell and you knew when the moisture content of the air or the black powder was going to reduce your odds of a shot going off.  You knew how to compensate for the trajectory of the bullet due to wind.   You taught me about using leaves and seed pods to determine where the wind was blowing.  You trained for this, probably better than me.   You used it practically, I practiced it.”

She was once again overwhelmed as she realized something about herself she never considered before.   Everything he said was true, but she never equated it with being on any level with the skills Roy had.  

“To answer your question, I do see the world a little more intensely.  I do constantly have information running through my head and it's impossible to make it stop.”  He reached out and grabbed his coffee cup from this morning.  “I taste things...with intentions to determine the concentration of it's parts.   I can tell when the radio of coffee beans to water is off for the brew, milk or cream....or if Breda used the goddamned sugar spoon again to mix his dumb breakfast drink and didn't wash it before returning it to the jar.  It's not that it's something I can't turn off...it's not like it is in my dreams when everything increases in magnitude and I can almost hear flavors, taste emotions....feel the invisible,  it's more like I want to know.  I need the information, I test myself with every opportunity to maintain my level of observation and improve.   It's not seeing the world through tinted-glasses, it's seeing it in a higher definition and dimensional.  It's seeing more of it and truly seeing how beautiful and complex it really is.”

It made sense and she looked at him and nodded her understanding.  They exchanged glances and smiled as they felt the appreciation for that statement beyond words.   They found some ground they had never covered in all the years together and found it to be common ground.        

[artificialqueens]

Don't Stand So Close to Me Chapter 5 (Biadore)- Splatt

Hi people! Been a while, huh? I got distracted by other fics…. Well, here you go! I hope you like it. I’ll have another update tomorrow and the next day to make up for the three months without an update. Love you all! Let me know what you think.

Roy turned on the doc cam and switched the input on his computer. “Okay, I’m going to walk you through an example.” He brought his left hand up into the camera to adjust the paper.

The class started murmuring loudly to each other.

“What? What did I do?” Roy asked, raising a brow.

The talking died down slightly, and one girl in the third row spoke up. “Is that your soul mark?”

Roy glanced backwards at the big screen behind him and turned his wrist out. “Yes. We all have them. Can we get back on topic?”

“Is that lipstick on it?” One of the boys in the back of the room shouted.

Roy flushed and snatched his hand out of view, rubbing at the bright pink that he hoped no one would notice matched the color on Danny’s lips today. “What is this, twenty questions?”

Danny covered his mouth with his hand and muttered a curse.

“Have you met your soulmate? I thought you were gay?” The first girl asked again.

Roy sighed. “Gay people have soulmates too, and men can wear lipstick, you know. We’ve been through the whole drag queen thing. Let’s get back on track, people. You have a test in a few days, and it’s not my fault if you distract yourselves and fail.”

Everyone turned to Danny, who sat avoiding eye contact with everyone and covering his face.

“What’s his name?” another person asked.

“Look, we’re in the middle of a lecture, and if we don’t get to a section you’re still responsible for it on the exam.” Roy went back to writing out a reaction.

“Hey Danny, what’s that lipstick color you’re wearing?” Someone yelled across the room.

Danny froze and shot a panicked look at his professor, who kept his face schooled into a bored expression. Danny reluctantly moved his hands away from his mouth. “It’s called… uhm… candy yum yum.”

A few gasps and chuckles were heard around the room ad people caught on.

“Can we please stop talking about makeup and get back to the lecture?” Roy groaned.

Everyone ignored him. “Danny, what’s your mark?”

He pulled the sleeve of his jacket down farther to make sure it was completely covered and avoided the question.

“So you two are soulmates?”

Roy sighed. “I am so going to get fired.” He sighed.

“Fuck!” Danny exclaimed. “Can’t you all just shut the fuck up and stop asking questions?” He glared at the people around him. “I think I liked it better when no one talked to me.”

“You’re not making things any better.” Roy rolled his eyes at his lover before addressing the class again. “Okay, none of you are going to let me get back to the lecture, and this will probably be my last class before they fire me, so go ahead. Our subject for the rest of the class is soul bonds.”

Everyone excitedly talked for a few seconds before someone in the back yelled out “How long have you two known you’re soulmates?”

Roy sent a sympathetic look at Danny before answering. “Not long. A month, maybe.”

“Can we see both of your marks?”

“You’ve already seen mine. His is exactly the same. That’s how soul marks work.” He said dryly.

In his seat, Danny shrugged off his jacket and took his bracelets off of his left wrist to show the people around him.

“What does it feel like?”

Roy chuckled. “I think it’s different for both of us. I don’t think the bond manifests the same way in each person. From what he’s told me, the basics of what we both feel is that when we’re in a room together, it feels like a physical pull. Like we just always need to be closer. Right? Is that pretty accurate?” He asked.

Danny nodded in agreement. “It gets kind of painful sometimes, like, we’re not even ten feet away from each other right now, and I can feel the pulling towards him, and it hurts to not be next to him. The only time it really goes away is when we’re touching, and then it feels like it explodes and everything is right.”

“Where it differs is that he says that anytime there’s some sort of skin-on-skin contact, there’s a tingling sensation wherever we’re touching. For me, it’s more of an inner feeling of being whole or peaceful, and I didn’t realize before we met that I felt somehow incomplete, but now I can feel it whenever he’s not there. He says it gets worse when I say his name.”

Danny grinned. “Aww, look at you getting all sappy! That’s so cute.”

Roy waved him off. “It’s for science, Daniel. You have to be thorough when reporting your findings.”

“So you can feel that right now? The pulling?”

Roy nodded. “Constantly.” He glanced over at Danny again to see that the younger man had a yearning look on his face as if just talking about the two of them touching was physically too much for him. “Don’t you give me that look! You look like a fucking kicked puppy. I can’t deal with that right now.” Roy chastised his lover.

The girls around Danny all “aww”ed when his face fell and his eyes got even more sad. Roy tried to look away, but couldn’t snap out of it until someone else asked a question.

“Is the first kiss really as powerful as everyone says?”

Roy smiled sincerely at the way Danny perked up at the mention of kissing.

“It’s so much more.” Roy nodded.

“And it’s not just the first. It always feels like that.” Danny put in. “It’s just so different the first time that it kind of feels like… right. It feels right.”

“Not so much fireworks as feeling whole, and like someone found a way to heat up your blood in your veins and start your nerves firing double time. It’s really fascinating.”

The class “aww”ed at the tender words.

Danny smirked. “Plus, the sex is great.” He wiggled his eyebrows.

“Shut the fuck up, queen!” Roy rolled his eyes. “Do you just not have a filter at all?”

“No.” Danny shook his head. “No I do not.”

Roy sighed. “Okay, ignore him. Do you have anymore questions?”

“How did you figure it out? That you’re soulmates?”

Roy frowned. “That’s… Danny?” He looked to the boy for permission.

He hung his head embarrassedly and traced his mark with one finger.

“That’s personal.” He walked over to Danny and put a hand on the boy’s shoulder. “Hey,” he whispered. “We’ve talked about this. It’s okay.”

“Tingly.” Danny leaned his head onto the man’s hand and smiled. “I just wanted you to come over here.”

Roy laughed. “You’re such a fucking bitch. I thought you were actually upset! I swear I’ll come into your dorm at night and cut up all your fucking wigs.”

Danny gasped and grasped at his blue wig. “This shit was expensive. I know where your drag is, too, you know.”

“Can we see a picture of you in drag, Professor Haylock?” The girl behind Danny asked.

“You know what, fuck it. Sure. If I don’t get fired for fraternising with students, I’ll even come to class in full drag.” He walked back over to the desk and pulled out his phone. He found a picture of Bianca and put it under the doc cam for the class to see.

In the picture, Bianca, Adore, and Courtney all stood together on stage laughing. It was after Adore’s first show, and her lipstick was all over her face from making out with random guys in the crowd. Bianca looked as pristine as always, towering over the barefoot queen with one arm around her waist and the other around Courtney’s shoulders.

Danny laughed. “That was a great night. I had really missed performing on stage. Do you have the video? You should show them that.”

Roy rolled his eyes. “No one is going to want to see that.”

“See what?” someone asked.

Roy motioned for Danny to explain.

“Us performing. Well, she emcee’d, so she introduced me and I performed.” Danny grinned.

There were a few murmurs before people started asking to see the video and what a drag show is like.

“See? They want to see it.” Danny winked. “Plug it into the computer and pull it up on the big screen like that. That way the sound comes over the speakers, too.”

“Daniel, I have no clue how to do that.” Roy groaned.

Danny got up and straightened his skirt before strutting up to the podium and set up the video on the computer. He pressed play and turned to watch.

Bianca walked out on stage and pretended to kick Courtney away. “Alright! That was Courtney Act! She’ll be in the alley out back if you wanna give her a different kind of tip. She’s almost as much of a whore as this next bitch. We’ve got a new girl here tonight. I’ve never seen her perform in drag, but she gives a good show in the bedroom. Everyone give it up for my soulmate, Adore Delano from Azusa, California!”

Adore came bouncing out and pulled Bianca in close to her. “Hey baby.”

Bianca wrapped her arms around the girl and kissed her briefly before handing her the mic and going offstage.

Adore grinned at the audience. And the music started.

“Wednesday’s panties on a Friday night. Drive in movie and I’m getting mine.” She sang, dancing around the stage and feeling herself up.

“Down down down duh-duh, I’m DTF Down down duh-duh, I’m down.”

She pulled a twink from the audience onstage and started grinding on him before spinning around and kissing him hard. The rest of the song, she danced with the boy, letting him feel her up and making out with him until the music stopped.

“Thank you so much!” She smiled, her lipstick all over her face. “Now get your ass off my stage.”

The video ended with Bianca coming back out onstage.

No one knew what to say for a few seconds, before Roy fake coughed into his hand, saying “Slut”.

Danny laughed. “I’m a slut and you’re a hateful clown.”

“Danny can sing?” Someone called out.

“Bitch, what, do you think I just lipsync at the clubs like the other girls? I write my own music.” Danny scoffed. “I’m a fucking vocals major!”

Roy looked up and had to crane his neck to look his lover in the face. “I have a question. Why is it that you’re willing to walk around campus all day in 8 inch platform heels, but you perform barefoot?”

“You just don’t like that I’m more than a foot taller than you right now.” Danny patted the professor’s head and leaned down.

“Sit down. We got really off topic. Who has soulmate questions?” Roy motioned for him to go back to his desk, but he plopped down in the teacher’s chair instead.

“Is sex different when it’s your soulmate?” One of the guys in the back asked hesitantly.

Danny leered at his lover, looking him up and down hungrily. He pulled Roy in by the waist and rested his head back on the older man’s stomach.

“What are you doing?” Roy asked.

“Feeling tingly. Answer the question.” Danny closed his eyes and smiled serenely.

Roy lovingly rolled his eyes and put his hands on Danny’s shoulders. “The short answer is yes. It’s different.”

“Did you feel a connection straight away when you met, or did it get stronger or something? Did it feel different once you actually realized you’re soulmates?”

Roy thought for a second. “I really don’t know. When we first met, my eye was drawn to him straight away, but I don’t know if that’s just because I’ve never had another drag queen in one of my classes, let alone one who dresses in full geish every day. Once we… He called a random number in his phone one night when he was having a really hard time with not having friends and dealing with everyone’s reactions to him crossdressing, and it happened to be me. I think that he was subconsciously drawn to my number because he knew somehow what we share the bond. That’s probably why I talked him down and drove out to pick him up instead of calling the police to go get him, and that’s how we figured it out.” He held tighter to Danny’s shoulders when the boy winced at his words.

“Once we actually saw each other’s mark, it was like, ‘oh my god, that’s what this feeling is.” Danny agreed. “Even if he wasn’t my soulmate, he saved my life, and that’s not worth nothing.”

“I guess once we figured it out and could put a name to the feeling, it seemed like it got stronger just because we could recognize it.” Roy shrugged.

Danny reached up to take one of Roy’s hands in his own.

“Is that why Danny came into your office when I was there?” Jason asked.

Roy laughed loudly. “Yes, that’s why Danny came into my office. That was actually only two days after we figured it out. That’s one of the reasons I was so fucking pissed at you and those other two assholes. Nobody can insult Danny except me.”

Danny nodded. “And Shane.”

“Shane doesn’t realize when he’s being rude. He says it’s an Aussie thing, but I’m pretty sure it’s called ‘Being a Douche’.” Roy clarified. “For anyone who has not been to my office hours, Shane is my graduate assistant. He’s the blonde in the video.”

“Courtney Act.” Danny said with an australian accent.

“What does Danny look like out of drag?” One of the girls near the front asked.

Danny cocked a brow and pulled his wig off, shaking out his hair. He found a picture on Roy’s phone of him out of drag and put it up on the screen. “I look like a boy, yay!” He cheered sarcastically.

“He’s cute as a boy.” One of the girls in the front whispered to her friend, and Danny winked at the pair.

Roy held up the wig. “Am I putting this back on you, or are you done with it for the day? Why did you even take it off if you were just going to show them a picture?”

Danny shrugged. “I’m good. I’m a beautiful mermaid from the ocean with or without it.”

“Party.” The older man mocked.

“So it’s probably completely useless to ask this, but how about we not tell everyone about this so that Professor Haylock can keep his job here?” Danny addressed the class. “I promise I’m not getting any extra help or hints or anything. He just laughs at me when I get all bitchy about getting Cs in this class and tells me I should study more.”

Roy chuckled. “That’s because you don’t study, Dan. You don’t study at all.”

Danny motioned to him. “See? I have no unfair advantage, and Shane does all the grading, anyways. I just get fucked by him and perform with him.”

Roy groaned. “Daniel Anthony Noriega, would you please just not mention any kind of sex in front of the class?”

“What? We’re soulmates. If they think we haven’t fucked, then they need to think again. It’s not like I’m getting on my knees in front of everyone.” Danny reasoned.

“Nope. Just stop talking. Class dismissed. We’re done. I probably won’t ever see you again.”

Everyone started to get up and leave when one heckler in the back yelled for the couple to kiss for them.

Roy glared in the general direction of the person’s voice.

“We won’t tell anyone you’re soulmates if you do!” The boy promised. Slowly, the other students started to nod their agreement.

“Why do you want to see us kiss so badly? What are you going to get out of that?” Danny asked. “I mean, I’m down, but why?”

A girl in the front row shrugged. “It’d be cute, and some of us have never met a pair of soulmates before.”

“Fuck it.” Roy threw his hands up and grabbed Danny by the waist, pulling him in and kissing him hard.

Danny moaned loudly and pressed himself flush against his lover. The two were breathless when they broke apart.

“Jesus Christ that was hot…” someone in the middle of the room commented.

Danny looked down at Roy, his pupils blown out and his mouth still hanging slightly open. “What is the closest deserted place to here with a lockable door?”

Roy rolled his eyes and gently pushed Danny back a half step. “You have a class across campus in 20 minutes.”

Danny whimpered at the loss and pouted. “No I don’t. It’s friday. This was my last class of the week.”

Roy eyed the rest of the class. “You got your kiss. The next class needs to get in here.” He reminded them, walking out with Danny close on his heels.

The two made it to his office, and Roy shoved Danny against the door, pinning his arms above his head.

Shane yelped in surprise and looked confusedly between the couple. “What the hell has gotten into you today?”

“The whole class saw our soul marks at the beginning of the period. Roy’s probably going to be fired, and I want to be bent over that desk.” Danny explained in between kisses.

Shane scrambled to gather his papers and left, shouting that they had half an hour before he would be back.

Roy pushed Danny roughly on top of his desk and pulled his skirt up to his waist.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

Danny pushed off the desk and sat sideways on Roy’s lap, his breathing evening out slowly.

“I love you.” Danny sighed happily.

Roy grinned and kissed his soulmate tenderly. “I love you, too, Danny.”

The two of them sat silently enjoying each other’s company for a few more minutes until Shane walked back in.

He looked at the two of them and let out a long breath. “Thank god you’re both dressed. The president of the university is headed this way.”

“We didn’t get undressed. I’m wearing a skirt.” Danny cocked a brow.

“Danny, I think you should go to your dorm.” Roy frowned.

Danny shook his head. “I’m not leaving. I’m a part of this as much as you are.”

Roy groaned. “Please don’t be difficult. You don’t need to get in trouble, too. If you’re expelled, you have to go back to Azusa.”

“I’m staying. I’ll be quiet and out of the way, but I’m staying.” He insisted.

“Fine. Go sit over there and don’t say a word.” Roy pointed to a chair in the corner.

[wolfwritingblog]

The following is a birthday present for @lizparkcr who will hopefully still want to be my friend after reading this crap. 

Fullmetal Alchemist, Roy/Ed ship although tbh it’s really more like a gen fic. Was going to be longer but I got a stomachache and had to wrap it up. 

Like an avalanche, or a pack of wild animals, the Elric brothers could often be heard before they were seen. On a good day, the inhabitants of the Central City military headquarters might be clued in to their presence by the sound of laughter and thundering footsteps as the brothers raced down the hallway, willfully ignoring the rules of decorum. They were no longer officially part of the military after all, so what did they care for what anyone on base thought? On a bad day, their arrival was more likely to be heralded by angry stomping and loud complaining from Edward, while Alphonse followed apologetically behind him.

On this particular day, the growing awareness within the office that they would soon be having company began with a muffled yelp and a loud crash, as Edward slipped on the tile in the hall and went down in the most dramatic way possible. Havoc, his desk nearest the door, got up and poked his head out into the hall.

“Everything okay out here?” he asked mildly, hiding a smile behind a pull on his cigarette.

“Shut up and help,” Edward growled. There was a muted shuffling sound and then another crash and Ed swore loudly. “If any of these broke, Havoc, I swear I’m blaming you.”

Riza looked up from her work at that, raising an eyebrow in an expression of both concern and curiosity. It wasn’t like Edward to bring anything to the office on his visits. Even when he had been a soldier under Colonel Mustang’s command, he had rarely managed to bring the things requested of him, usually preferring to slouch in with just himself and his pocketwatch, and glare until he was dismissed.

Havoc clearly had some kind of quip lined up, but he misinterpreted her glance as a warning and cleared his throat instead. He stepped out into the hallway and returned a moment later with a large, festively decorated metal box in his arms and both Elrics in tow.

“Cookies,” Edward explained, tapping his metal hand off the box with a satisfying clang. “Al insisted we should bring them, because it’s the holidays, and because apparently now we need a peace offering in exchange for barging in here.” He took the box from Havoc and set it down somewhat aggressively on the nearest desk, then fell into a chair and propped his feet up like he’d never left. “You should put up a warning about that patch of tile, people have been tracking snow on it. It’s dangerous.”

“I believe that the spot is clearly marked,” Riza said gently, “if you would take a moment to look for a bright yellow sign reading wet floor.” She got up and went over to say hello properly. “It’s good to see you both again, even if you didn’t call ahead. Thank you for the cookies.”

Edward cracked one eye open to look up at her, giving her his trademark grin. “Aw come on, you know you’d be disappointed if we ruined the surprise. Besides, it’s not like we’re gonna get in trouble. Security around this place is still as shoddy as ever. Next thing you know they’ll be letting strangers off the street wander in.”

“Most people haven’t had their faces on the front page of the newspaper,” Falman pointed out. “You can criticize our security when most of the gate guards don’t know you on sight.” Ever the diligent worker, he’d stayed quiet to reach a stopping point in his tasks before chiming in.

Edward grimaced. As much as his presence demanded attention from the people in his immediate surroundings, he hated being reminded of his relative fame. Or, as some would put it, infamy. The sheer amount of knowledge that he'd brought back from his trip beyond the gate had sent alchemists the world over into an extended panic attack. He'd been very selective about which details he released, claiming that some things were better left unknown, but what little he had published was enough to dramatically reshape the foundations of the science.

Riza didn't pay much attention to those academic circles herself, but it was hard not to pick things up with a best friend like Roy Mustang. She'd sat through more than one long-winded speech about how his theories would be affected, and she had nodded along at all the right places and reminded him to take a breath now and then. Of course, she had noticed over time that the wild spark in his eyes had more to do with Edward himself than with his contributions to alchemy, but she hadn't said anything. It was a small miracle that Roy could find anything to make him light up that way, after everything he had been through.

So she allowed the unscheduled intrusions, even though they often meant a decrease in productivity for the whole team, and allowed Edward a certain amount of freedom to do whatever he could to get under Roy’s skin. He seemed to enjoy it almost as much as Roy did, after all. According to him, there had been nobody on the other side of the gate who was any fun at all to pick on.

“Where’s Mustang today, anyway?” Ed asked her, as if he could read her thoughts. “That lazy shit taking another sick day?” He sounded casual, but she knew he was genuinely curious. Picking on Roy was one of Edward’s favorite pastimes.

“He’s out today,” Falman confirmed. “I think his exact words were ‘I’ve seen enough snow to last a lifetime, I’ll see you all tomorrow when the roads are clear.’” He took a cookie from the box and went back to his desk, seemingly oblivious to the discomfort his statement had caused.

Edward shuffled slightly in his chair, looking slightly guilty. Ever since he’d learned the details of Roy’s northern deployment, including the detail that his disappearance had been a motivating factor, he got the same pained look whenever someone referenced it, even in passing. Riza said nothing, because she knew for a fact that every member of the team had taken Edward aside and reassured him that it hadn’t been his fault at least once.

He seemed to recover quickly, laughing at a joke Breda made and telling stories about his most recent trip to Resembool. The only sign that he might have let Falman’s comment affect him more than he should have was that the Elrics left early. Edward rushed them out the door after only about a half hour of catching up, promising to come back sometime soon.

Barely afternoon, and already it was getting dark. Roy let out a deep sigh and pulled the curtains closed. Not like there was anything worth seeing outside. His neighborhood, normally a pleasant place with neat gardens and colorful little houses, currently resembled nothing so much as an apocalyptic hellscape. It was incredible, the way a gray sky and a blanket of snow could suck all the joy of the world.

Having made sure that his house was thoroughly blocked off against the winter from all sides, Roy retreated to the living room. He had the heat up as far as he dared to put it and there was a fire lit in the small fireplace but his hands and feet were still freezing, as if the mere memory of the cold was enough to influence their temperature.  To make matters worse, he had a few old injuries that always made themselves known by complaining when the weather went below freezing.

Shutting himself away from the world when winter closed in was a bad habit, one that he knew he had to break if he wanted his career to recover. Already this year he had taken too many days off, but the thought of trudging through the ice and then trying to be productive on a day like this was just too much for him. All he could focus on was the memory of staring out into a bleak, lifeless world just like this one, day after day.

A loud thump on the door startled him out of his haze and had him on his feet in an instant. His immediate thought was that somebody was trying to break in, a notion which he tried very hard to dismiss. No common criminals would be stupid enough to be out in this cold, if someone was truly attempting a break-in then it would be a targeted attack, and they would be going about it more gracefully than assaulting the front door.

Paranoia was a bad habit too. A little bit of suspicion was healthy for someone who had once publicly attacked the country’s political leader, but he had no reason to think that anyone was currently on his trail. More likely, it was a bird running into the house, or children playing, or any number of things. He unlocked the door and opened it a crack, peering out at the front yard when no immediate attack ensued.

“Are you going to melt me a path, or do I have to do it myself and risk setting your lawn on fire?” Edward Elric was standing on the sidewalk at the end of his yard, staring back at him with an irritable frown on his face.

Roy opened the door a bit wider, looking around as his mind whirred back to life, processing the new information. The sound that had drawn his attention was no longer a mystery, the snowball that had hit the door was still flattened against it. Ed had come all the way out to his neighborhood just to throw snow at his house? It sounded ridiculous even his head.

“Where’s Alphonse?” he asked eventually. Since their departure and subsequent reappearance, Ed had been even more attached to his younger brother than everyone remembered. It was rare to see him alone, he spent most of his time hovering around Alphonse like an anxious watchdog.

“Back home,” Ed said, referring to the miniscule apartment that the brothers barely spent enough time at to justify renting. “For some reason, the idea of coming all the way out here on foot didn’t really appeal to him. He said to tell you hi, though. Now get all this snow out of my way, I can’t feel my toes.”

There was no arguing with that. Roy preferred not to do any flashy alchemy by his house, in case any of his neighbors got upset, but if he went for a snow shovel Ed would laugh at him. He dug around in a pocket for one of his gloves, and melted a narrow path in the snow. Seeing it melt away was briefly satisfying, even though he knew the area would likely refreeze by morning.

“From the look on your face, you’d think I asked you to clear the entire neighborhood,” Ed said, marching past Roy and into his house without waiting to be invited in.

If they were at the office, Roy would throw back some kind of clever quip and they would fall into their usual routine of bickering. He wanted to do that, some days arguing with Ed was the only thing that kept him going, but the part of his brain that was responsible for quick comebacks had apparently withered up and fallen off with the leaves on the trees. “What are you doing here?” he asked.

Ed had been to his house before, once or twice, but never for very long. He was looking around with interest, examining all of Roy’s possessions, and seemed in no hurry to answer. “Heard you were being a shut-in,” he said at last. “Thought I’d come shake you out of it, I know how much that sucks.”

Roy nodded politely, wondering how best to apologize to Ed for making him feel like it was necessary to go out of his way for something like this. “I'm afraid old habits die hard,” he said. “I've been trying myself.”

“Yeah, maybe.” Ed was smiling at him, a sight so at odds with the rest of the world that he wondered if he was imagining it. “But you haven't kicked me out, so that's a good start.”

[onemoremiraclefandoms-blog]

Comfort in Hell - Chapter Six

Roy couldn't sleep that night either. The nightmares kept him awake and when the sun eventually rose, Roy pulled himself wearily out of bed and managed to drag himself into his bathroom. He took a quick shower and wiped the mist from the mirror with his towel and took his time shaving, taking comfort in the familiar action. He washed the shaving cream from his face and then took a long hard look at himself. He was surprised by how gaunt he looked and vowed that the first think he was going to do today was make himself a big breakfast. As if on cue, his stomach grumbled loudly. He rubbed a hand over his face, giving the dark circles under his eyes a second glance before he left the bathroom. He dressed in his room, pulling on boxers and pajama bottoms, before he moved into the kitchen and started on making breakfast.

He was just putting his bacon in the pan when there was a knock at the door and he froze. He glanced at the time, frowning at the clock on his wall that told him it was just after 9 in the morning. It was a Saturday. He knew that. Who would be here so early? He sighed and turned the gas off, abandoning food for the moment before moving into the living room. He stopped by the desk, grabbing a pistol from the top drawer before he moved to the front door. He left his gloves where he'd dumped them from the night before. Ed had been right. He was vulnerable, if he used the gloves it might trigger a reaction like before, but the gun's waist was comforting to him, it made him feel strong. He opened the door, hesitantly and kept his gun at the ready, frowning slightly when he saw Ed with his younger – yet taller – brother at his side. Alphonse offered him a cheerful grin while Edward glanced pointedly at the gun with something like respect. Roy sighed slightly and stepped aside, letting the Elrics in.

“I wasn't expecting company.” He muttered, putting the gun away and moving to the kitchen, letting the two teens follow him. “I'm not the best host, and frankly I'm too tired to care.” He mumbled around a yawn, lighting the cooker again. Ed was still watching him, but he said nothing.

“Don't worry about it. Brother and I have been through so much while we were travelling that we don't expect anything from people. You've been through something awful, you shouldn't have to cater to guests. How are you feeling, general?” Al asked him. Roy offered him a smile and a shrug.

“I'm okay, Al.” Roy said. The younger Elric was always much easier to get along with. He was polite and respectful in his manner. He was overly considerate of people, so much so that Roy was genuinely surprised that he hadn't offered to make Roy his breakfast. He glanced at Edward, wondering how much his subordinate had told his younger brother and challenging him to argue. Ed just nudged him away from the cooker.

“Go sit down. You look like you're about to collapse. I can cook.” Ed muttered and with a confused frown, Roy joined Al at the kitchen table. Roy watched the blonde, he was still drawn to him in all his glory. The young adult was gorgeous, and while Roy did tend to go with women more, he'd had been with a few men and thoughts of Ed becoming one of  those men just would not leave his mind. Thoughts of pushing his fingers through Edward's golden hair while he sucked on the tender, sensitive skin behind his ear ran through his head. The temptation to trail his hands over hard, defined muscle that he knew lay just temptingly out of sight from him beneath Edward's black shirt was almost overwhelming.

“Hughes is talking of throwing you a party. Just thought you deserved a warning in advance.” Ed added as he cooked. Roy groaned in response. He should have figured Hughes would do something like this. So much for wanting to keep his head down. Roy knew that the place would be protected by Hughes most trusted men. Ed threw him a smirk as he put a plateful of food down in front of him. “I've become a pretty decent cook, but I'm no Al.” He mumbled, almost as though he was looking for acceptance.

Roy didn't hesitate in tucking into the food. It was delicious and Roy couldn't tell if it was Ed's cooking or just because it wasn't hospital food. He had to focus on not delighted moans escaping him and he blinked in confusion as a mug of coffee was put in front of him. He swallowed his mouthful. “Thanks. It tastes great. You're just full of surprises Fullmetal.” Roy said with a small smirk, taking a sip of the coffee. Ed just muttered under his breath and flipped him off and Roy couldn't help the small laugh he let out. He liked how normal this seemed. Ed making him coffee and food while his younger brother sat and spoke animately about his lessons, occasionally telling Ed off or joking about something. They had stayed for hours and by the time that they had left, the sun was low in the sky, lost behind Central's tallest buildings and Roy felt the exhaustion take a hold of him and he fell asleep on the cough in front of a fire that he had let Ed light.

-

Roy woke up at the sound of bird song. There was an ache in his neck from sleeping on the couch and the fire had burnt itself out. He'd slept all night and into the morning. His phone was ringing and he reached out, grabbing it from the coffee table. “Hello?” He asked groggily, rubbing his eyes.

“Roy boy, what are you like?” The voice was scolding him. His mother, rather, his foster mother.

“Morning Madame. You do realise that this is a stupid hour to be calling? I'm just of the hospital.” He muttered, sitting up. He knew that he was in for a lecture and forced back his sigh. Regardless of how old he got, she would forever treat him like a child.

“I thought that I told you that I wouldn't be happy if you ended up in a body bag.” Chris Mustang scolded him. “You almost did that very thing. I hope the people responsible are not longer a problem.” She said, and Roy knew what she meant. She hoped that he'd killed them all. Hughes must be talking to her. They always had gotten along, even if Madame did get irritated by Hughes constantly showing off his daughter.

“No. Not quite. Maes believes that some of the people involved weren't in the building when I was found. We're working on it. They will not get away with this. You know how my men are, Madame, and you've no doubt heard of Fullmetal. Even if I wasn't concerned with finding them, Ed would hunt them down on his own. He never did follow orders.” Roy muttered. He'd mentioned Ed a couple of times to Chris, and if Maes was in contact with her then she would have no doubt heard of the alchemist. She would also be at the party that Maes was throwing, which meant that she'd be able to read the signs from him that he was attracted to Ed. He just prayed that she kept it to herself, as he was sure Maes was doing. He wanted Ed more than he wanted a lot of things in life, it was as though his body was linked to his, but there was too much risk. It could ruin his career and Ed's. It also made them vulnerable. His abusers knew he was protective of Ed, but he dreaded to think what would happen if news got out that Roy had feelings for the blonde. The most he could hope for would be a quick death.

Roy listened to Chris talk for a while, staring at the bottle of pills on the coffee table that Ed had left out the day before. Al had left to get them a taxi and Ed had lingered, placing this bottle on the table and telling Roy to take care. The tablets were antidepressants, which had first angered Roy so much that he'd been tempted to chase Edward down, but the blonde then commented that he wasn't saying that Roy was depressed, but he'd read that the tablets helped with the treatment of post traumatic stress disorder. He'd been concerned. Once he was off the phone to Chris, Roy took a dose of the tablets that sat in front of him and then he moved into his bathroom and took a shower. He took longer this time, but eventually his legs began to ache and he had to get out of the shower. He dried off and dressed in smart trousers and a shirt. He was going to go for a walk.

Just as he left and headed down the street he recognised the blonde that headed towards him. “Sir, you shouldn't be out on your own. You're still at risk, General.” Riza told him, easily falling into his pace and walking at his side. He smiled at her, shaking his head slightly.

“Riza, you're off duty. You don't have to be so formal with me.” Roy told her. They had known each other for years now, and yet she was still always so very formal with him. He trained under her father, learning the secrets to his alchemy from the tattoo that covered Riza's back at the time. “I can't be guarded all the time. Besides, I'm not the one that is at the most risk. It wasn't me that these men wanted, Riza, I was just a means to an end.” He said, glancing at her. She was tensed, waiting and ready should someone attack them. She was always so professional, and yet, Roy had noticed how she looked at Havoc when she thought that nobody was watching.

“I don't understand what you mean, sir.” Riza admitted from his side. “They told you that they were after someone else? Who are they looking for, Roy?” She asked, watching him but not faltering in her step.

“Ed.” Roy muttered, stopping when Riza did. He glanced at her and sighed. “They're after Fullmetal. I don't know why, they just said that their boss wants him punished for what he's done. The men that took me were asking about him. They wanted intel on him. Where he stayed, how to get to him. They wanted information about his alchemy and how he lost his arm. They were military, that was obvious from the way they held themselves.” Roy explained, waiting for Riza to move before he continued walking. “I should have said something before, but I don't want Ed to know, understood? He's far too headstrong. If he knew that someone was after him than he wouldn't hesitate in looking for them, I don't want them near Ed for as long as we can help it.” He said and he knew that there wasn't a choice in whether or not they'd find Edward. They were determined. They'd find the boy and manage to get him just as they had gotten Roy, but the longer down the road that day was, the better.

Riza nodded her acceptance. “I'll report this to Hughes and the team, sir. We'll set up a guard by Edward, don't worry, we'll be discreet. We all know how Edward gets when he thinks that he's being protected, regardless of how much he needs it.” Riza offered him. She stopped and faced him. “May I speak openly, sir?” She requested. Roy smiled at her, “Riza, again I remind you that we are off duty, you can speak as openly as you choose.” He told her, stopping by her. She seemed concerned. Had she heard something? Was Ed or someone else in danger?

Riza nodded and then looked up at her old friend with a small smile. “Few of us have noticed, Roy, but I know that I've seen the signs and I know that Hughes has too.” She started, dropping her gaze slightly at Roy's narrowed eyes. “You're current attraction is dangerous, Roy. As your friend I would advise you to avoid acting upon it.” “I have no idea what you are talking about.” Roy lied during a pause where his friend watched him so closely that he felt uncomfortable. He sighed and rubbed a hand over his face. “Fine, yes. I do know what you're talking about.” He muttered, defeated. How obvious in his attraction had he been with Ed? He thought that he'd hidden it well at the office.

Riza offered him a smile. “Roy, you have no reason to feel bad about this. Its not you're fault who catches your eye, but this is risky. If it gets out, this can ruin your career. Everything you've worked for could be destroyed if a relationship, even one night with him. He's your subordinate.” She said, putting all his concerns in voice and tones. He sighed again and shook his head, holding up a hand to stop her.

“Riza, I know the risks. I am fighting it but I am starting to wonder why. Yes, it could result in my removal from the military. However, I can show them that anything between Ed and myself would not impact on my work, or his. If anything it had potential of improving his work. On another note, it was military men that tortured me – at least some of them were.” Roy added, hearing the anger in his own voice. “The whole system turns against itself at the slightest thing and I'm not sure if I can even begin to fix something so broken.” He muttered, turning back in the direction of his home. “Ensure that the Elrics are defended. I have no doubt that these men will use Al against Edward if they have to.” He said, making sure Riza knew that it was an order before he headed home.

Riza called out to him when he turned from her, but when he didn't listen she sighed, leaving him to head home. Maybe she had over stepped her boundaries, but she was concerned. Edward was much like a fire. He was bright and powerful and beautiful, but he could be a devastating force. She didn't want her friend and superior throwing away his ambitions and career for a teenage boy. Despite her personal feelings on the matter though, she knew that she would always stand by Roy in whatever decision he made. She'd go home and then call Havoc and Maes and get a guard set up around the Elrics' apartment.

-

When Roy got back home he locked the door, then pulled the curtains closed and then made himself a quick meal. He barely tasted the food as he chewed and swallowed it, his mind too caught up in thoughts of Edward and Riza's words. She was right, but how long could he argue with a need that screamed so loudly that his body and mind ached? Was it even possible to not give into such a passion? His want for the young blonde alchemist was rapidly changing from a want to a need and he didn't know how much longer he could hold off on making a move and just dealing with blacklash. He was growing to think that Ed wouldn't outright reject him either. He'd caught the blonde casting him looks that spoke of similar feelings, but the look was always fleeting and ignored. Edward hid anything close to lust or attraction behind a mask of concern and guilt.

Roy poured himself a whisky and dropped into his couch. He didn't understand Edward's guilt. Maes had told him a few times now that Edward harboured guilt over what had happened to Roy. He took a sip of the amber liquid in his class and sighed, rubbing his head. It hadn't been Ed's fault, it was nobody's fault really, that he'd been taken so why would Ed feel that way. Roy vowed to himself to find that out from the blonde, even if he had to order the answer out of him. He didn't want Fullmetal to feel guilty about this, not after all he'd suffered already.

-

The nightmare woke Edward up that night. It had been about Roy. He flicked the lamp by his bed on and sat up, wiping sweat from his forehead and then pulling his knees close into his chest. He'd found Roy in that basement, but his superior officer hadn't responded to him. He'd been getting him out of the irons and just gently lying him on the ground when he'd heard a noise so pained and monstrous that it made him shudder and he'd turned around to try and guard Roy from whatever creature had spawned behind him when he was confronted by his mother. At least what he and Al had brought back as their mother. The tangle of limbs and gore. It reached out for him just as a hand grabbed his ankle. He turned to Roy then and found himself staring down at the empty gaze of a corpse. Blood streamed out from Roy's eyes, trailing thin red lines down his face as though they were nothing more than tears. Blood filled his open mouth, pooling and clotting before Edward's eyes. Roy's skin had turned grey and sunken, showing off too much cheek bone and gave Roy a grotesque look. Edward had screamed when Roy sat up, pulling Ed to the ground with the help of his mother's remains.

Ed looked up when his bedroom door opened. Al stood in the dimness of the hallway. Hesitantly he crept into the room and moved to Ed's bed, sitting on the side. “Are you okay, brother?” Al asked him softly. “You were screaming in your sleep. You've not had a nightmare that bad in a long time.”

Ed offered Al a small, unconvincing smile and then looked away. His gaze fell on the window and the open curtains. He'd forgotten to shut them and now the moon and the starlight were washed out by the artificial lights of central that never seemed to dim or go off. Sometimes Ed missed sleeping out with Al, looking up into the darkness of the sky and seeing all those small pinpricks of light. “He's weak and suffering even still and its all my fault Al.” Ed muttered, feeling the mattress dip slightly as Al moved fully onto the bed. He didn't ask Ed to continue, he just waited patiently for his brother to open up and share his concerns. “I didn't go in for my report. He'd been a pretentious bastard all of the day before and I couldn't be bothered with him. I wanted to teach him that I can still disobey his orders and show him that he wouldn't actually do anything about it because either of us care about that stupid report. The investigation had been a complete waste of time.” Ed explained, sighing.

He remembered it perfectly. He'd went into the office the next day and Roy wasn't in. Hawkeye was angry at first but then little things didn't add up and then Kain had come running into the office, panicked and struggling to catch his breath. Kain had explained to them that Roy was missing. His last words before leaving the office early had been a muttered curse about Ed's childish disobedience and then had stormed off with the intention of going to Ed and Al's apartment, but he never made it there. Kain had found his gloves caught on a twig that stuck out of a bush on the route that ran between Edward's and the office. Blood and tears had stained and ruined them, making the transmutation circles worthless, but they were still obviously Roy's. There had been no mistaking them.

Ed explained all of this to Al, managing to keep from crying despite how his throat closed up at times. It hurt to think about, the guilt was crushing him. “If I had just went to the office, Al, Roy would have never left to find me. He wouldn't have been taken. Its all my fault and I can never atone for it. How can I make up for what they did to him?” Ed said, shaking his head. Al watched him for a moment and then took his hand.

“Brother, you cannot blame yourself for that. The general could have been taken at any time when he was alone. They would have been watching him. Besides, you found him and you saved him. You kept him company in the hospital and helped pull him back from that flashback you told me about.” Al said, but Ed refused to meet his gaze and had laid back down in bed. Al moved to give him room, standing up. “The general would never blame you for this, brother. You shouldn't either.”

Ed knew his brother was just trying to help, but it wasn't helping. He nodded his acceptance. “I'm tired, Al. You should go back to bed too.” He mumbled, letting Al leave before he turned the light out again, but he didn't fall asleep until the first hints of sunlight were in the sky. He didn't want to see Roy like that again.

[setaripendragon]

The Light of a Pole Star - Part 1

This idea just sort of possessed me after that Royed Soulmates fic I wrote. Because there was one version of soulmates that wasn’t on the prompt list that I really, really love; Reincarnation. And then I thought of how amazing that would be in FMA in general, and then this happened. Idk how many parts there’ll be (four? five?) but I’ve got the whole thing pretty much finished, I just gotta fix a few scenes and figure out how to split this monster up XD Disclaimer: I watched FMA and FMA:B a long time ago, and I never actually finished either of them anyway, so although this is meant to be sort of canon-divergent, I probably messed up somewhere. (There are also some little nods to some of my favourite fanfics out there, including Son of the Desert, because it’s amazing.)

Ed shouldn’t remember. Oh, there’s all the stuff the Gate shoved into his head that he remembers and Al doesn’t, and he probably shouldn’t remember that either, but that’s not- That is so far removed from him, such impersonal knowledge. It’s the same – he figures, anyway – for anyone who passes through the Gate. Just knowledge drilled into them soul-deep and agonising. It’s fine.

It’s the memories that bother Ed the most.

Because he shouldn’t remember. He shouldn’t remember what Aerugonian wine tastes like, and he shouldn’t remember the customs of the Imperial Xingese Court, and he shouldn’t remember the exact combination of old parchment, dusty leather, and warm sand smells that permeated the Great Library of Xerxes. He’s never even left Risembool. He shouldn’t remember how to navigate Aquroya’s canals, or the back streets of Central City’s slums. He’s Edward Elric, and yet he also remembers being Natan bin Mordechai, and Yi Feng, and Leon Blackburn, and Lucia Guardia, and Proteus of Atossa.

It’s too much for his eleven year old mind to hold. Centuries of memories, so many different versions of eleven. Eleven in Xerxes had been less than half way to adulthood, but eleven in Drachma had been old enough to start work as an apprentice. Sometimes he loses his childhood in Risembool in amongst climbing through Xingese orchards and scampering across the flat roofs of Ishval.

It isn’t until someone grabs him by the front of his shirt, hauls him up and shakes him, and he looks up into coal black eyes that he comes back to himself. Because he knows those eyes. In different shapes and colours across the centuries, they’ve been there. They’d met in a library, in a sickroom, in a workshop, in an alley, in a bar, in the market, in a temple. So many differences, so many variables, but Ed – his name is Edward Elric – latches onto the soul underneath, which has always remained constant.

It’s the anchor he needed. Even after Mustang’s left, it’s just easier to put the pieces into the right places inside his mind. He drags himself out of the mire of centuries, and demands automail from Granny. He can do this. He doesn’t know how, because he wasn’t always an alchemist – how could he not always have been an alchemist?! – but he’s going to get Al’s body back. And Roy Mustang is going to help him.

He’s pretty sure everyone can tell something’s different, but Al puts it down to failing to bring Mum back, and Winry puts it down to the trauma of his injury, and Ed’s not entirely sure they’re wrong. It’s all of that, and maybe that’s why it’s so much harder to push the memories away. It’s easier remembering a life that isn’t really – is – his, than dwelling on what he’s done in this life.

“Okay, pipsqueak, spill it.” Granny commands, a couple of weeks into his recovery, when he’s sitting on the back porch, looking out over the fields and comparing them to the rice fields in Xing. Looking at his automail and comparing it to automobile engines.

“Who’re you calling pipsqueak, tiny old hag?!” Ed snaps, turning to glower at Granny.

Granny glowers right back. “What’s wrong?”

“What do you think?” Ed retorts bitterly.

“If I knew that, I wouldn’t be asking.” Granny fires back without missing a beat. Then she sighs out a large cloud of smoke and puffs rapidly on her pipe for a moment. “You’ve got a lot to be upset about, I’ll grant, but I know you, Ed, and this isn’t what you’re like when you’re wallowing. This is what you’re like when you’re lost inside that big brain of yours.”

Ed snorts before he can help himself, because, okay, that’s accurate. And maybe… he can’t tell Al or Winry, he can’t burden them with this, but Granny… She’s lived through two of Ed’s lifetimes, more or less. “When were you born, Granny?” He asks.

“1839.” Granny replies, slow and confused. “Why?”

“Did you ever see much of the war with Aerugo?” Ed continues without answering.

After a beat of suspicious silence, Granny nods. “I saw a lot of soldiers come through while I was studying in Rush Valley. And I worked with the medics near the front for a few years when it got bad. That’s where I met my husband, as it happens.”

Ed smiles a little wistfully. “There’s this little town, not that far south from South City. Walston. You know it?” He begins, and Granny is outright frowning now, but she nods again. “It used to be over the border, but the military used their brand new horseless carriages to out-manoeuvre the Aerugonian troops and take it in 1874. It was pretty close to a river, which made it an ideal new base to operate from, so all the support people, the medics, the cooks, and of course their new engineers got carted in and dumped among the locals for the next however long it took to conquer the next town. Which was a recipe for trouble even ignoring the fact that the only place worth visiting in the evening was Valentino’s Bar.”

“I remember.” Granny murmured. “Ed, how the-”

“Oh, you were actually there?” Ed asks in surprise, blinking at Granny and trying to find a fiery automail mechanic in his memories. “Huh. Maybe we met.”

“What the hell are you talking about, Edward?!” Granny snaps, losing her patience.

“You didn’t happen to meet an engineer by the name of Lexi Spitfire, did you?” Ed asks.

Granny stops, mouth open in preparation to demand more answers, and gives Ed a deeply unnerved look. “Short, curly brown hair, freckles, always bickering with the barkeep?” She asks.

“I was not short!” Ed grouses. “I was perfectly normal sized, thank you very much! Just because Aerugonians tend towards unreasonably tall does not mean-” Granny makes a worrisome noise, kind of like a ‘glrhk’, and sits down heavily on the porch steps, staring up at Ed like she’s seen a ghost. “Granny?” Ed asks, maybe frets, a bit, because while he’d sort of hoped his knowledge of things he couldn’t possibly have been there to see would convince her he was telling the truth, he didn’t want to give her a heart attack.

“That was- Fucking hell…” Granny breathes, and then she shakes herself and goes right back to staring at Ed in shock. “I remember walking into that bar and hearing that exact rant. Spitfire was trying to haul the barkeep over the bar-”

“And Val was being a smug bastard. ‘Oh, sorry, is it too far for you to reach? Should I lean down a little to make it easier?’” Ed quotes with a snarl. “Wasn’t so smug with a bruise the size of my fist around his pretty little eye, was he?”

“What the hell happened, Ed?” Granny demands. “If you’re even still Edward-!”

“I am!” Ed interrupts quickly. “Jeez, Granny, I think you’d have noticed if I wasn’t me by now.”

“I thought so, too, but then you started talking like someone else!” Granny yelps.

Ed sighs, and looks back out over the fields of Risembool. “Not really. I mean, different name, different face, different life… same soul.” He pauses and shrugs. “I think. I didn’t exactly get an explanation. It was just suddenly all there, in my head.”

Granny draws in a sharp breath, but she doesn’t yell. She doesn’t say anything for the longest time, and Ed lets it settle, lets her have the time to absorb everything he’s said. He thinks he remembers her, now,  thinks he remembers toasting with her to the notion that machines are just better than men. Thinks he remembers drunken conversations about how automail works, how engines work, how many people they’d seen die already because their machines weren’t quite good enough. He thinks Val had cut them off at that point. He thinks he remembers Val carrying him – her – to bed and tucking her in like the fucking stupid sap he was under all that bullshit. “So… Spitfire’s dead, then? I had wondered.” Granny says finally.

“Yeah. 1889. Car crash.” Ed tells her.

Granny snorts. “Ironic.”

“Tell me about it.”

Central City is both familiar and not, and it takes Ed a day just to get his bearings. He goes for a walk, past the university, which is bigger than it used to be, and through the wealthy districts that are basically unchanged from two hundred years ago, and into the slums, which go from painfully familiar to completely wrong and back again every few alleys. He finds a brothel where he remembers a dilapidated ruin he’d slept in for several months as a child a long, long time ago, and pauses, staring at it and trying to get a grip on the sheer irony.

“Brother…” Al says, audibly judging him.

“What?!” Ed huffs. “I was looking at the architecture, Al!”

“The architecture?” Someone drawls in a husky smoker’s rasp, and Ed turns to see an older woman leaning in the doorway, a cigarette between two perfectly manicured fingers. “Well, that’s a new one.”

“Could do with a few more gargoyles, if you ask me.” Ed informed her with a sharp grin. Given her age and her perfectly ostentatious make-up, he figures she’s the proprietress of the brothel. “You’d be the eponymous Madame Christmas, I guess?”

“That’s me.” She confirms. “And you’re way too young to be a customer, kid.”

Ed snorts, because that’s funny. If he adds up everything he remembers, he’s more than five hundred years old. “Not looking for work, either.” He points out dryly.

“Good.” Madame Christmas says, with a whole weight of emphasis behind her words. “The hell are you doing in this part of town, then, kid?” She demands. Doesn’t mince words, this one. Ed decides he kinda likes her.

“Just looking around. Getting a feel for the city.” Ed answers.

“You should go home.” Madame Christmas instructs, in a tone that very much expects to be obeyed. Ed’s never really responded to that sort of tone. Not in this life, not in any other.

“Eh.” He shrugs. “Don’t feel like it.” That earns him a glower, and replies with another knife-sharp grin, just daring the woman to push the issue. She blows out a tight stream of smoke, rolls her eyes, and capitulates with a long drag of her cigarette. “Besides, the guy we’re staying with is a fucking creep, so I’ll take any excuse to get out of there for a while.”

“Oh?” Madame Christmas prompts, one eyebrow arching slowly.

“Brother, Mr Tucker isn’t that bad.” Al protests, but it’s weak and they both know it.

Madame Christmas’s other eyebrow rises to join the first. “What’s he done?”

“Nothing.” Ed waves a vague hand in the air. “It’s not… He’s fucking shifty. He won’t look at me head-on, he’s nervous all the damn time, except when he thinks no one’s looking at him, and then he gets this- this sharp look, like there’s broken glass behind his eyes. You know what I mean?”

“Oh, yeah.” Madame Christmas confirms, and she’s watching Ed with her own sort of sharp look, now, only this one doesn’t give him the creeps at all. “We see a lot of men on the edge of doing something dangerous in our line of work.”

“Exactly.” Ed agrees, pointing at her.

“Fair enough, kid.” Another puff of the cigarette, and then she stubs the butt out in a little portable ashtray she pulled out of her pocket. “But there are better places to sight-see in this city. Safer places.” She informs him, giving him a pointed look. “So get out of here.”

Ed accepts that, and turns to go, but hesitates, and turns back a moment later. “Just out of curiosity, do you employ boys here, or just girls?” He asks.

“Brother!” Al yelps.

Madame Christmas gives him a clinical once-over, and then a dryly amused look. “Come back in about five years, kid,” she tells him, “and I’d have people paying through the nose for you.” Al gives a scandalised sort of squeak, but Ed’s just mildly flattered by that assessment.

“I told you I’m not looking for work. I was just curious.” Ed corrects, marvelling at the strange synchronicity of his different lives. “Klaus would’ve laughed himself sick if he could see this.” He muses quietly, but not quietly enough, apparently.

“Klaus?” Madame Christmas prompts.

Ed shakes his head. “No one, just… just an old friend, sort of.”

Madame Christmas gives him a deeply sceptical look. “You’re way too young to be talking like that, kid.” She informs him, and Ed shrugs, because he can’t exactly argue without looking insane. Instead of saying anything, he just waves, and sets off down the street.

“What on earth were you talking about, Brother?” Al asks once they’re well out of earshot of the brothel. “We’ve never known anyone called Klaus.”

“Says you.” Ed retorts. “I could have friends you don’t know about.”

“No, you really couldn’t, Brother.” Al says, deadpan.

“Ouch.” Ed laughs, and then sobers up as he tries to figure out how much he ought to tell Al. “It’s just… something I remember, from- from the Gate.” He says eventually, shoving his hands into his pockets and slouching a little. He doesn’t know why Al doesn’t have the same problem as him. Maybe because he doesn’t remember the Gate at all, but that doesn’t seem right to Ed. The only thing he can figure is that he remembers because the Gate pulled him apart, pulled him open and everything that had been wrapped up inside had spilled out, all the things imprinted on his soul but tucked away out of sight had been laid bare and forced into the light. But he doesn’t know, and surely if that was the case, Al should remember, too, whether or not he remembers it happening.

“Oh.” Al says quietly. They walk in silence for several long minutes. “The Gate showed you… things to do with… with prostitutes?” He asks eventually.

Ed huffs a laugh that doesn’t have much humour in it. “Sort of. I don’t really want to talk about it.”

“Okay, Brother.” Al agrees. “But if you… if you ever do, you know I’ll listen, right?”

“Of course, Al.” Ed confirms, rapping his knuckles lightly against the side of Al’s breastplate. “Come on, I’ll race you back to the main street.” He says, and then bolts, laughing at Al’s indignant cries of ‘BROTHER!’ echoing behind him.

“Met your new recruit today.”

“What?!”

“Mmhm. Weird kid.”

“Weird… how?”

“He’s a lot more grown-up than he looks.”

“Yes, well, I knew that much.”

“Also said he got a bad feeling about that Tucker bloke.”

“Really? That’s interesting.”

“Very. Articulated it well, too. You’d think he’d seen people that fucked up before.”

“Fucked up?”

“I’ll talk to Helen about it, see if she can’t give me some better insight.”

“I see.”

“Perhaps you ought to look in on the man, too. Make sure he’s doing okay.”

“I will. And what exactly was Edward doing in your part of town, anyway?”

“Sightseeing.”

“…Sightseeing.”

“Mmhm. Stopped to appreciate the architecture.”

“The… architecture?”

“Thinks we should add some gargoyles to the front of the place.”

“Good heavens. I hope you’re not going to take his advice.”

“Mmm…”

“Madame!”

“Heh, don’t get your panties in a bunch, Roy-Boy. No; no gargoyles.”

“Good. I’ll see you soon.”

“You’d better. Good luck.”

“And to you as well, Madame.”

Ed feels sick. Ed has seen a lot of awful things before, but there’s something so much more awful about the botched, mangled chimera that used to be Nina Tucker. Maybe it’s because all those memories are… just a little detached. Old and faded and worn. This is immediate, right in his face, so starkly fresh that he can still smell the ozone of the transmutation.

There’s a bang upstairs, footsteps, and Al calls out, shouts for help, maybe. Ed’s barely paying attention, because he can barely breathe, and his mind is racing. Because while he can’t clearly remember the knowledge the gate pounded into his head, he does remember five different lifetimes of learning alchemy, and there has to be something in there that could help.

“Shit.” Ed’s head snaps around to stare. Roy is standing at the bottom of the stairs, looking into Tucker’s lab and staring in pale-faced horror at the whimpering chimera in the middle of the room. “Where’s Tucker?” He asks, the moment he registers that Ed is looking at him.

“We- we knocked him out and put him in one of the cages.” Al informs Roy, because Ed can’t find his tongue. Can’t find even a scrap of attention for anything happening in this century. He’s back in Xerxes. Back in Xing. Because Xerxes hadn’t had laws against human transmutation like Amestris does, their concept of biological alchemy had been entirely different, and possibly – probably – more accurate. And Xingese alkahestry was focused on and centered around healing, the body and the soul, in harmony.

Pieces start coming together in Ed’s mind, and he scrambles up. “Edward?!” Roy demands, as Ed lunges for the desk. “Brother?!” Al yelps, when Ed comes up with a piece of chalk. He needs to draw this one out, because it’s so, so fragile, so tenuous, and if he’s wrong- He needs to draw it out to make sure he’s not wrong.

“Get Nina out of the way, Al.” Ed orders, dropping to his knees and clapping to clear the array already laid out in chalk. Nina-the-chimera flinches, whines like a beaten dog, and Al leaves off questioning Ed in favour of coaxing Nina out of the way.

“Edward, what on earth do you think you’re doing?” Roy demands, stepping up to Ed’s shoulder as he starts drawing out the array.

“Tryna fix it.”

“Edward, there is no fixing it.” Roy tells him, stern and aching. “You can’t undo a completed transmutation.”

“It’s not complete.” Ed retorts. “Bungled patch job piece of shit. Soul’s out of alignment with the body. Shit, Tucker didn’t even account for souls in his circle. Did he even study anatomy? I mean, shit. No, that’s wrong-” Ed scrubs out the beginnings of a sigil and steps back for a moment, eyeing the circle. “If you account for the lóng de màibó, there needs to be-” Nodding, Ed dives back in again, putting the details into place in a flurry of inspiration.

“The what?” Roy asks.

It’s a good thing Ed’s almost done, because that question knocks him clean out of his head-space. For a moment, he sees double when he looks up at Roy. Fuller lips painted blood red, longer hair bound back with jade hairpins carved to look like plum blossoms and butterflies, narrower face that only emphasised the cunning behind dark eyes. But this is Roy, not Xiaoli, and of course he doesn’t know what the Dragon’s Pulse is.

“It’s a- Never mind.” Ed shakes his head and finishes the array. “Okay. Okay, Nina?” He calls, turning to where Al and Nina are crouched together at the edge of the room. “Hey, Nina. I think- I think I can make it stop hurting, if you’d like?” He offers.

“Big brother?” Nina rasps, and Ed’s heart breaks.

“Yeah. Could you come here a sec?” Ed asks, and Nina gets up and staggers over, butting her head against his chest and whining. “Hey, it’s going to be okay. Big brother will make it better.” He promises, and drops a kiss onto her shaggy head before backing away. “Stay right there a sec, okay?” He prompts, when she makes to come after him. She whines, but sits down hesitantly.

“Edward, are you sure…?” Roy asks.

Ed chews on his lip. “Eighty-two percent.”

“Brother, isn’t this… this is human transmutation.” Al protests weakly, coming to stand beside Ed.

“Technically? Maybe not.” Ed hedges.

“What do you mean?” Al demands, bewildered.

“Technically, if Tucker could get her here without having to face the gate, then I should be able to… well, to heal her without crossing that line, too. I don’t think I can… I can’t make her human again, is the thing, but I think- I’m pretty sure I can make her… better.” Ed tries to explain. Then, before he can second-guess himself, he drops to his knees and places his fingers on the edge of the circle. It immediately lights up bright white-blue, and Nina screams.

Ed screws his eyes shut, because he knows that sometimes healing hurts, but this is worse than anything he’s seen before. Not surprising, given that her entire body is a patchwork mess that needs streamlining.

The light dies, the screaming stops, to be replaced with the harsh, wet, gasping sobs of a child. “Nina?!” Ed calls.

“B-big brother?!” Nina calls back, all herself, without any rough, raspy dog-vocals. Ed goes boneless, even as Al and Roy both gasp. He scrubs out part of the outer circle to make sure the array can’t be reactivated, and then crawls forward to where Nina is naked and shivering on the floor.

“Hey, hey there.” Ed murmurs as he scoops her up and cradles her against his chest. “Does it still hurt, Nina? Can you- can you tell me if it hurts?”

Nina presses her face into his chest and sobs, but she’s shaking her head as she does it. “No. It hurt so bad, but- but it’s b-better now.” She mumbles weakly, and then dissolves into wailing, crying so hard she’s shaking with it. Ed looks down at her and grimaces. He’d been right when he said he couldn’t make Nina human again. Her proportions are just a little off, and she’s got a fine coat of golden-red fur over her back and limbs and climbing up her neck, and her nails look more like claws, and Ed’s pretty sure she’s got a tail now. But she’s not in pain anymore, and that’s all Ed could ask for.

Dark cloth appears in Ed’s vision, and he looks up to see Roy offering him his black great coat. Trying for a smile of gratitude and falling miles short, Ed takes it and bundles Nina up in it. They wait in silence as Nina cries herself out and then falls asleep still half in Ed’s lap and half on the floor. “Let me-” Roy murmurs softly, and Ed doesn’t even hesitate to let him scoop Nina up into his arms. He clambers to his feet and stares at her tear-streaked sleeping face. Her face, at least, looks mostly normal, although there’s something about the shape of her eyes that looks not-quite-right.

“Where are you going to take her?” Al asks, and Ed snaps to attention at the thread of fear and steel he hears in his brother’s tone.

He looks up at Roy, and Roy looks back with a pained grimace. “Somewhere she’ll be safe, I promise.” He swears.

“Where?” Al presses, sharp and high and angry. “Because I know you know what the military would do with her if-”

Roy gives a singularly humourless laugh. “You don’t need to worry, Alphonse. As far as any official report goes…” He trails off and glances towards the stairs. Only then does Ed even realise that Hughes and Hawkeye came with Roy. He scrubs at one eye and wonders at how bad his tunnel vision had gotten.

“Unless we can come up with a suitably convincing mess, I think we’d best go with missing.” Hughes interjects grimly.

“We could vaporise him.” Ed suggests darkly, jerking his thumb at Tucker.

Roy looks startled, and then thoughtful. “Claim it was Nina and that Tucker fled, and then at least the manhunt would be for someone they’re definitely not going to find. I’ll… handle that when I get back.” He sighs, looking down at Nina.

“Back from where?” Al asks belligerently.

“My mother’s.” Roy replies wryly, and all the fight goes out of Al. “She’ll take good care of Nina.”

“Let me take her.” Hughes interjects. “You need to be done with him when Military Police catch up.”

Roy nods, and hands Nina over. Hughes cradles her like she’s precious, and there’s a momentary look of heartbreak on his face. Then he’s gone, back up the stairs, and Roy is turning towards Tucker. “Hawkeye, if you could take the Elrics upstairs? I’ll join you in a few minutes.

“Sir.” Hawkeye replies, and then turns and gestures for Ed and Al to precede her up the stairs. Al moves towards her, but Ed doesn’t. “Edward?” Hawkeye prompts, her tone surprisingly gentle. It really doesn’t help with the sick feeling bubbling in Ed’s gut.

“Do you know how to make it look like a failed human transmutation?” He asks Roy.

Roy goes still, and hesitates long enough to answer that Ed doesn’t need him to actually say the words. “Not specifically, but I can make a good enough guess.” Roy says finally, decisively enough that if Ed didn’t remember, if he hadn’t had nearly a dozen adulthoods to draw on, he might have let it nudge him from the room. But he did, so he doesn’t.

“Not as good as I can.” Ed points out.

“Brother!” Alphonse protests, horrified.

“It’s fine, Al.” Ed snaps. It’s not, it’s so far beyond not fine it’s not even funny, but Ed’s been in the military three times before. He’s seen how ruthless they can be, how gleefully malicious they can be. He remembers how casually they can toss aside the lives of even their own people. If there’s anything – anything at all – that he can do to protect Nina from that, he’ll do it.

“You don’t have to do this, Edward.” Roy tells him, quiet and solemn.

“No, but I’m going to anyway.” Ed replies, meeting his gaze. “I couldn’t save Nina, but maybe- maybe I can help keep her a little bit safer now.” He hesitates, but this is Roy. This is Val and Malka and Klaus and Xiaoli and Dimka and Huang. If he can’t trust them, he can’t trust anybody. “I- I don’t think I can… kill him, though. Can-”

Roy looks like Ed just stabbed him. “I can handle that part, Edward.” He assures him.

“Yay, teamwork.” Ed jokes weakly. Roy flashes him a smile that’s hollow, but his eyes are touched with gallows humour, so Ed will take it. “You should- you should go with Hawkeye, Al. You- you don’t need to see this.” He says.

“I hate that you keep hurting yourself to protect me from things.” Al tells him, in a quiet, wounded voice that stabs straight to Ed’s core.

“Tough shit.” Ed replies, a little more brusquely than he meant to, what with the sharp pain in his heart. “I’m the big brother, that’s my job.” Al gives an angry grumble, but he leaves with Hawkeye. Ed shares one more weary, determined look with Roy, and then they get to work.

[misstinfoilhat]

I have a prompt if you like it :) I'd LOVE to read some parental Roy or Havoc where Ed or Al start wondering or already know but struggles with accepting or having people know he's not straight, and him going to the parental figure to talk about it or "subtly" "asking for a friend". I feel like this could work even tho they're not that close, similar to how many ppl choose to come out to s/o they're not that close to first (yk bc if they mind at least it wasn't s/o very close to them to lose)

All right! My first prompt. I’m gonna try to write it- I’ve had some time to think about it now, and I hope it’s what you want!  The door to Colonel Roy Mustang’s office flung open, slamming into the wall behind it, leaving yet another imprint telling any visitor that Edward Elric had been here.  Roy growled silently, pinching the bridge of his nose while assessing how much the damage would cost to fix once he finally moved his way up the ranks and left this office to the next stringed puppet.  “Report,” Edward announced obnoxiously, hurling the crumpled paper onto the desk in front of the exasperated man and immediately turned to march back out. Instinctively, Roy reached out and grabbed the red coat that floated in front of him, and was able to drag the brat back. Edward grunted in annoyance, and crossed his arms defiently, while Roy picked up the paper to look it over.  “Fullmetal... Is this crayon?” Roy exclaimed in disbelief.  “What? I didn’t have a pen!” Edward complained in response.   “But you had a yellow crayon?”  “I borrowed it from some kid on the train. He said I couldn’t have the red one.” Roy had no idea how to answer that. Instead, he covered his expression with his hands, dragging them down his face wearily. “I can’t... I can’t send in a report to the Fuhrer, barely legible in yellow crayon, Fullmetal. Even that tiny brain of yours has to understand that.”  “Hey!” Ed shouted angrily.“That’s what you get for demanding the report the second we’re back in Central, bastard colonel!”  “How naïve of me to think that you somehow would be able to access a pen on a four-day train ride.”   Edward pouted and blew raspberries at his superior. With mismatching arms still crisscrossed, he turned his face away and pointed his nose towards the ceiling in obstinance. He shot a quick glance towards the door, and Roy realized that he seemed to have a worry knitted in his eyebrows.  Roy pondered for a moment, suddenly realizing what was missing.  “Edward, where’s Alphonse?”  Edward froze up, only seeming to hold his arms tighter. Roy couldn’t help but notice the inner turmoil probably raging inside the fifteen-year-olds brain at his questions.  Damnit. He didn’t have time for this.  “Fullmetal, talk to me or I swear I will have you court marshalled for wasting my time.”  “You can’t do that,” he retorted but didn’t look entirely sure. He did a double-take, watching the exit longingly before groaning loudly and collapsing onto the chair in front of the messy wooden desk.  Roy didn’t say anything, just folded his hands and waited for the vertically challenged teen to spill.  “We had a fight,” he finally muttered, defeatedly.  Roy wanted to roll his eyes. This wasn’t some kind of school counselling office. Talk about wasting his time. He was not paid to sit and hear about two young brothers having a quarrel. But then again, if this was any other teens, they probably would be in school, and having this conversation with an actual counseller. He had made damn sure that didn’t happen.  God, he hated karma.  “Go on,” he heard himself say, settling in for a tedious recital consisting of “he said, she said”.  “I don’t know... He’s just been acting really strange ever since we left Xenotime. I mean, it was a pretty strange mission, but he’s just been really quiet, or irritable and unreasonable when finally speaking, ever since.”  Roy swiftly glanced across the report for clarification.  “Ah, yes. Where you met those two brothers that pretended to be you two,” he confirmed.  “Yeah,” Edward sighed silently. “I don’t know what’s going on with him. He snapped at me when I tried to ask and went straight to the library once we arrived here.”  Edward looked absolutely beat by this. The sorrow in his golden eyes twinged something in Roy’s heart, and he tried to get rid of the useless pain he felt for his depressed subordinate. But, he already knew that he wasn’t going to be able to concentrate on his work for the rest of the day if he didn’t at least try to help. He exhaled deeply to be overly dramatic. “To be fair, you are pretty insufferable,” he murmured with a cheeky grin. Some of the well known Elric-fire could once again be recognized in the kid, as Ed reacted to his words But as quickly as it appeared, it disappeared again.  “I can try to talk to him if you want?” 

Even Roy was shocked by the words that left his mouth. That was not what he was going to say. He was just kinda trying to lighten the mood with some... ill-timed jokes. Shit. That karma again.  “I guess you could try,” Edward sulked, slightly unwilling to admit that he was, in fact, very relieved. If Roy demanded to know what was going on with Al, Alphonse wouldn’t dare to react the same way as he had done with him. 

The small hallway between the offices and library was way too short. Before Roy had even figured out what his opening line would be, he was standing only a few feet from the boy.  Alright, Roy-boy. You can do this. Think like Maes. What would Maes say? Whatever you say to a fourteen-year-old boy’s soul stuck to a giant suit of armor of course... This is gonna be a shit-show. 

“Alphonse,” he greeted carefully, closing the distance between himself and the suit, seated crosslegged on the floor between a tower of books. Alphonse looked up from the text he was reading.  “Oh. Hi, Colonel Mustang.”  Edward was right. The kid seemed different. His voice, which was usually so cheery and sounded so energetic, was just a flat mumbling. Also, it always seemed so important for Alphonse to greet the Colonel properly with respect. Now, he was already back into the pages of the book he was reading. 

“Are you... reading something useful about the stone?” he tried instead, hoping that would trigger the boy’s talkative side. That didn’t happen. All of a sudden, Al startled violently, slamming the book shut and hiding it behind his back.  “I- no, no. I- that was the wrong book. I was gonna get the one next to it,” Alphonse blurted out, fidgeting around- making sure the book was safely hidden behind him and a couple of the rest of them lying with spine facing him, obscuring their titles.  That was certainly strange... Wait, did they have porn in that library? Gosh, maybe that would make research slightly more... No. No, no, no! Focus. “Is anything the matter?” Roy tried instead, shaking himself out of his curious musings.   “No,” Alphonse replied way too quickly, desperately starting to bag up the shielded books. “Nothing’s wrong. I’m just tired... or, err... you know. I just need some peace and quiet after the long mission.”  “Your brother said you two had some kind of fight. Is that what’s been bothering you?”  Alphonse visibly paused, his arm still tucked inside his small brown leather bag. Maybe, just maybe... He could talk to the colonel about this... No. No, he couldn’t talk to anyone. Nobody could know. His brother would hate him if he knew he had these strange... he wouldn’t call them urges- he wasn’t actually sure if he was even able to have those- but feelings. Feelings he shouldn’t have towards someone he definitely shouldn’t.  “You know, for a suit of armor, you’re pretty expressive,” Roy chuckled, leaning lazily on the door frame.  “What?” What had he expressed? Did he know? How could he know!? “It’s your body language. Which, I guess is expected. You don’t really have too many other ways of showing your emotions.”  “I... I guess not. What,” he needed to be careful of what he was saying. One slip up and his life would be even more over than it already felt. “...what do you think I’m I portraying right now?”

“Honestly? You look terrified.” 

Oh. Fuc-freak!  When Alphonse didn’t answer, instead only kept staring at his book-bag, Roy took it as permission to continue. 

“You know, your brother is pretty worried. He couldn’t even think of any good retorts to my short jokes.”  Alphonse tilted his head towards the colonel for a moment, before lowering his gaze again, clearly guilt-ridden. “I didn’t mean to hurt him,” he uttered finally. “But he was just pestering me- going on and on about how I was acting strange and I just... didn’t want to talk to him about it...” “He’s not mad, he’s just wo-” “...I mean, I didn’t hit him that hard anyway.” “...rried. You punched Fullmetal?” 

“I- The bruise on his cheek wasn’t me, that was this... other kid. Russel, his name was. Mine didn’t leave a mark, I don’t think...” 

Roy slowly blinked, trying to digest all of this information. If there was anything in the report about Ed being in a fistfight with some other kid, Roy hadn’t been able to decipher it from the colorful chicken-scratches on the piece of paper on his desk. 

But, that was not what this was about. 

“Listen, Alphonse. I get that this...whatever it is that is bothering you, is hard to talk about. I’m not sure if I’m the right person for you to talk to anyway. But it’s clearly bothering you a lot. I just think you’d maybe feel better if you talked about it.” Hesitant, he got closer to the hulking armor and lay an awkward hand on his shoulder piece.  Alphonse went silent and stayed silent for a long time.  Roy was starting to worry if he had hit some kind of off switch when Alphonse finally met his gaze. 

“How... how does it feel like to be in love?”  That was not what Roy had expected. He wasn’t sure just what he was expecting, but this would probably be one of the absolute last things. But, he had also been a fourteen-year-old boy with a crush once upon a time, more years ago than he liked to think about, so this should be within his comfort zone. Somewhat. 

“Uh, well... I guess it’s different for everybody but... I guess the first thing I usually feel is a tingling sensation in my stomach.”

“I... I can’t feel that,” Al sulked. Something in his voice had turned more desperate, which only made Roy feel panicked.  A different strategy, then. 

“Well, that’s not the only thing do. You... you enjoy her company and want to spend more time with her than other people in your life I guess. She’ll make you feel accepted for who you are, hopefully. You... usually find her physically attractive too.” 

Thoughtfully, Alphonse nodded, unfortunately not seeming any more uplifted. 

“Anything else that’s on your mind?” 

Alphonse hesitated. “And... what if the person you... you love... isn’t a she?” 

Roy wasn’t able to hide his surprise at that. Al visibly recoiled and waved his hands frantically. 

“N-not me. I’m talking about... about someone else. Someone I met at the mission.” 

Roy looked at him skeptically. “Uhu,” he murmured. He wasn’t about to point out the ‘I can’t feel tingles in my stomach’ part. If this was how Alphonse needed to handle this, it would have to do for now. “And this someone, is he afraid of these feelings?” 

“Very,” Alphonse answered immediately. 

“Well,” this was definitely out of Roy’s comfort zone. “You should tell your friend that he probably has a lot of accepting people around him, who’ll love him unconditionally. And that... the people who don’t, don’t matter. It will be hard at times. There will be people who’ll discriminate against him and make him feel small and unimportant, but he’s not. As long as he remembers that, I think he’ll be okay.” 

Roy had Alphonse’s full attention now. In his awe, Alphonse hadn’t realized that he had froze in motion. The last book, the one he’d hid behind his back, was clutched in his left hand, while he was holding the bag in his right. 

The title of the book read clearly “Understanding sexuality”. Roy had seen the book before. It was one of the books recommended in the academy. There was a readlist for those who chose to pursue interrogation techniques and profiling.

Roy nodded faintly towards the book. “That’s a good read. I read it during my time at the academy. You should recommend it to your friend too.” 

If Al could blush, he would have. He quickly stuck the book into the sack. “Y-yeah, I’ll do that. Thank you, colonel. I feel a little bit better now.” 

“Good,” Roy said honestly, aware that this would not be over anytime soon. But it was a start. 

“And Alphonse...” The helmet perked back up. “I’m pretty sure that your friend has a brother who loves him very much and will not think any less of him if he shares what on his mind. I think he will be proud.” 

Alphonse replied with a couple of rapid, shaky nods and wrapped the strap of the bag over his shoulder and got up from the floor. “I hope so. Thank you. I should probably take brother home now. I think I need to apologize to him for acting irrational. And for punching him.” 

He started walking, and Roy quickly matched his pace to walk beside him, holding a reassuring, much sturdier hand on his shoulder. 

“Don’t worry about him. I’m sure he deserved it.” 

“Al!” a shrieking voice yelled from the open door in Mustang’s office. Edward stood, annoyance and uneasiness rivaling as his main expression.  This time, Roy noticed the faint, yellowing bruise on his cheek. He also had a clear, starting black eye which must have darkened in his time waiting in his office. 

“I’m okay, brother,” Al exclaimed with a prominent lightness in his voice that hadn’t been there before. Roy smiled. 

Edward looked unsure, chewing on his bottom lip as he contemplated about if he believed him or not. 

“Okay, I’m glad. Let’s go home,” Ed decided and walked over to where the two considerably taller figures stood, just outside the office. He shot a questioning glance towards Roy. 

“Yeah, you probably should,” Roy agreed easily. “Fullmetal needs to re-write his report so it’s ready at my desk at nine tomorrow morning.” 

Before Edward could get to physically attacking his superior officer and risk actually getting court marshaled for giving Mustang a matching black eye, Al quickly caught him and carried him gingerly under his arm out of the offices, leaving an echo of curses and other profanities behind them as the disappeared out of the HQ.  Roy wasn’t actually expecting the report in the morning. If Alphonse decided to wear his heart on his sleeve and tell Edward about what he was going through, the brothers had a long night ahead of them. 

Good thing they had each other. If it was anyone else, things might be a lot more difficult. It would still be, but a child that had offered up his arm after already having lost a leg to save his little brother from dying, wouldn’t make that sacrifice go to waste. Al would still be Al. And Ed inevitably would keep on being Ed.  Nah. They would be alright.