Gold and Charcoal

Gold and Charcoal
Chapter 10
Confrontation

To his credit, Roy didn’t jump or yell; he didn’t even shudder. He simply paused and turned around with a feeling of impending doom.

“Do you spend every night out here stalking people?” He was almost surprised to be able to use such a lazy, casual tone, considering the adrenaline rush Envy’s voice brought in his bloodstream. “Or is it just us?”

“Just them,” replied Envy cheerfully, flipping his strange hair away to clear his vision range. The mongrel thought he preferred not to see those eyes fixed on him.

“Glad I’m not included,” he took a step back, as if to excuse himself. “ I’ll just be going then.”

“What, you’re going to leave me all alone?” Envy scoffed, mock-insulted. “ Oh, of course, you only came for the dog.”

It was a curse that wanted to escape Roy’s thin lips but he held it back. “…do you ever do anything else than watch them? And what’s with the animal fetish?”

Envy shrugged. “I said that already. I don’t harm animals really. It’s Gluttony who likes them. You should be grateful, he could go after you instead. In fact, I’m fairly sure that…” He trailed off, smiling wickedly.

Roy wished the rising sun would chase the creature away, but the first light rays only hit the sin’s hair, giving it sickly green highlights. All considered, it matched the ill twist in Roy’s stomach. Envy only had to appear and say a few words to make everything seem wrong. Sunlight couldn’t chase this nightmare away.

After a few more seconds, there was a pitiful yelp rising from the other side of the wall, the death cry of…a puppy.

It was an interesting feeling to have your blood freeze like this, noted Roy in the tiny corner of his brain that wasn’t feeling utterly disgusted and dismayed. Oh, just great. Hayate… Fury loved his dog; he would be devastated. Not only that, but now no news would get back to Hughes. He wouldn’t know Roy was fine, would keep worrying, without being able to do anything for lack of information. They would assume the worst. This sucked.

Roy didn’t move, waiting to see if Envy had any more taunting to do before letting him go. He worried a little when the creature walked up to him, but did not feel any true panic until the sin decided to change into an exact copy of him. Roy was staring at himself: a twisted, evil-looking version of himself. Envy had copied every rip in the jeans, every scar on his upper body. Impressive. Terrifying.

“Not bad, eh?” Envy struck a pose, a hand on his hip.

Disturbing, really, but Roy thought he looked good. Just…the smile was creepy. “True, I look good,” he admitted, attempting to retain his composure.

“You do.” Envy chuckled – it wasn’t a very reassuring sound – and stepped closer, into Roy’s personal space. “I saw the animal come in, you know? I was expecting the little boy to come around.”

“That’s why I told him to stay,” replied Roy mildly. “I knew it was a trap.”

“A trap?” asked Envy, still smirking with Roy’s own face. Mustang wasn’t sure if that was his voice, but he knew he never used that tone. Sultry and sexy, threatening and fatal. “Why would you think that? It’s not like I would want to kill him…”

“I didn’t like how you looked at him last time,” explained the dark man, fighting to keep an even, cool tone. “You’re Envy, right? You want what you can’t have, so you wanted to take it?”

“Look at that, there’s a brain in here!” exclaimed the fake Roy, tapping the side of his head mockingly. Then he moved, advancing on the real one. “So, now that your ruined my little plans, what do I get to play with?”

Mustang batted away the hand that sought his body. “You’re a creep.”

He knew it was a bad idea, but Roy was scared and high strung; he raised his fist for a punch and caught this reflection of himself just under the jaw with all his strength. The bones cracked loudly and Envy stumbled back on a mute howl, holding his face with both hands. Feeling much more confident, Mustang raised both fists, suddenly thinking he had a chance to make Envy regret harassing him. That was before Envy lowered his hands to reveal a perfect jaw, only a trace of blood hinting at the hit it had taken.

“That hurts! What, you look surprised. You thought you could really harm me? That’s funny. Although yes, it did hurt severely,” The sin came back up to him, cautiously, with narrowed eyes. “Let’s see…did you know alchemists go by the principle of equivalent trade? Giving something for something? Look, I’m very good at applying this concept.”

Roy might have been able to block a punch, but he couldn’t block the high kick. Hell, he didn’t think he could do that, why would a creep looking like him be able to? Big mistake. The first was to his face, the second to the side of his chest. Mustang stumbled back, trying not to fall, and found support in the wall. He pressed a hand to it, trying to clear the stars out of his head by breathing slowly.

“That’s it? I would have thought you were more resilient really.” Envy sounded disappointed. “I didn’t really hit hard.”

Roy didn’t utter a single word, but he had the definite impression his ribs hadn’t taken that kick well. Damn it. At least the adrenaline was keeping any pain at bay. He was just dizzy, but that might have been from the kick to his face. His nose was bleeding, but it did not feel broken. It was a small mercy.

When Envy pressed an arm across his throat, pinning him to the wall, he still had Roy’s looks. But then he grinned, whispered ‘watch this’, and shape-shifted. It was at that moment that Mustang stopped being able to hide his fright; his eyes widened as Envy grinned maniacally at him with Hughes’ face.

“Look at that, finally an expression I like. You know this guy, don’t you? He came with the dog. Interesting, no? I wonder why he would bother about you. Are you brothers? You don’t look very much alike. Lovers, maybe?” Envy pressed closer, almost speaking against Roy’s lips. “I don’t have any orders about him. What would you say if I went back and killed him? I could take your appearance, smile, open my arms and close them to shatter his ribs. Then I would kick him to the ground and step down on his neck, crushing it slowly to watch him suffocate. He would think it was you, betraying him like that. Doesn’t it sound fun?”

“What…what do you want?” There might have been a touch of despair in those words, but it couldn’t be helped.

“What I want? Just to have a little fun.” Envy studied him closely. “ Mm, you know what? I think I actually prefer you with the stubborn air. You’re boring when frightened. Let’s see…” He changed again, taking Edward’s form instead. A slightly older, taller Ed, but still him. It was now an automail blade that cut Roy’s air, just below his collar. How did Envy do this? It was hard like real metal. It was cold like real metal.

The flesh felt real too, the lips Envy pressed to his as soft and pleasant as Roy would expect Edward’s lips to be like. The aggressiveness in the kiss only added to the illusion, the teeth grazing his lips and the tongue assaulting the fortress of his mouth. Just as he was giving in, feeling numb, Roy felt the intruder retreat. He waited, staring at Envy with confusion. What did Envy want, damnit?

It was with curiosity that Envy studied him back, and Roy didn’t know why until the creature told him, speaking slowly, “He doesn’t raise the expected reaction out of you…it’s more like the other kid…um. I see. You like him. Don’t you?” Envy lost his musing tone, starting to laugh mockingly. “Isn’t that cute! The pet in love with the masters!” He raised his other arm to tap Roy’s cheek lightly. “Silly human. Edward hates you. I’m very good at reading them, and you too. Well, well, this may yet provide for some amusement after all.” He stepped back. “Have a good day, Roy Mustang. I’ll see you later, under one form or another.” He gave a wave and left as he had appeared, without a sound.

Roy remained back to the wall for several minutes, just staring into a mental void. Then, slowly, he sank to the ground, mindless of the hard rock scrapping his bare backside. He didn’t really have a clue what the hell the sin had been talking about. He liked who, what, the hell? All Roy did know right now, was that Envy was a sadistic bastard. A sadistic bastard who knew who Hughes was. Fuck.


-


When Alphonse found Roy, the man was still slumped on the ground, eyes shut and half-dry blood on his chin.

“Roy!”

Roy glanced at the boy tiredly a moment, then made the effort to stand up and try to wipe the red-brown blood off his face. Alphonse was fidgeting just a few steps away, unsure of what to do.

“What happened?”

“Envy. What else?” The mongrel grimaced. “Bastard has a good kick.”

“Are you alright?”

“Yes. I just hate losing.” Roy shrugged.

“What happened to-?”

“The dog? He left by the same hole he went. He’s fine,” lied Mustang, smoothly. “It’s probably why Envy decided to pick on me.”

The man did give a yelp when Alphonse latched his arms around his sides without warning, but it could be attributed to surprise instead of pain. “Thanks Roy.”

The man would have liked to say something light, brush the matter aside with a joke or other, but instead he closed his arms on Al and bent his head over the boy’s with a deep sigh. He ignored the strain, too miserable to care. It was so stupid. In just ten minutes, Envy had made a pathetic wreck out of him. It was just hard to admit Envy had all the cards and there was nothing he could do. Roy was smart. He knew he could defeat about anybody if given some time to analyze the situation and turn it to his advantage. Even Edward would not win a second time against him. But Envy, the sins, they were different. Unbeatable.

How the hell had Envy found Hughes? Maybe just by accident. Maybe he wouldn’t be able to find him and the others again. Maybe they would be fine and safe. But Roy had no way to be sure of it. He felt like a traitor. He could cause their death, just because one day in the market, he hadn’t been able to keep his damn mouth shut. He was neck deep in something he didn’t fully understand, a situation he did not have the weapons to deal with. He wasn’t an alchemist. He didn’t have crazy powers. All he had were his fists. He was just a mongrel. Powerless.

“…Roy? Are you alright?” Alphonse’s puzzled and concerned voice chased Roy’s dark thoughts, bringing back his attention on the boy he held a little too tightly.

“Yeah, I’m fine.” The man straightened, taking a step back. He struggled to lock away his fears and return to his usual attitude. “Next time some creature wanders here, can we send your brother? He’s so short Envy’s kicks would go over his head.”

“I’m right here you know,” huffed Edward, leaning sulkily against a nearby tree.

“I’m aware.”

“You suck,” Edward told Roy. “I wanted a last spar before Winry comes to change my automail.”

“With me?” Roy rotated his shoulders one at a time. “Anytime, Shokun. I’m perfectly fine.”

“Oh, are you?”

Roy smirked to show his confidence, waving Al’s protests aside. Alphonse looked upset with them both and didn’t speak a word for the following hour. That hour was spent eating breakfast and digesting it while waiting for Winry, to whom Edward gave a call, asking if she could also have Hawkeye or Havoc over with her. The girl would get started on Al’s automail while Ed and Roy were out at the gym.

Havoc showed up behind Winry, each of them holding a large toolbox. “Okay, I have everything I need this time,” the mechanic said, setting her toolbox down with a thud. “It’s going to take a while, but you should be good for several months after this. You guys don’t grow all that fast.”

Ed twitched. “Winry…”

“Oh, by the way. I have something for Roy.” The girl searched around her toolbox and found a bag. Inside was a nicely folded white shirt. “I think Riza bought it for herself but didn’t realize it was for guys. She really doesn’t have any fashion sense. Here, Roy.”

The man thanked her politely but without insisting. He was too weary to even muster the energy to be irritated about being handed a shirt as if it was a toy for a good doggy. He pulled it on anyway, and found it rather comfortable. He left it hanging open, having grown used to going about bare-chested. Besides, he had eye-catching scars to show off.

“Hurry up you two,” Winry said impatiently. “You want to go fight and ruin the automail? Fine, go. But be back in an hour.” She nudged them to the door, closing it in their faces. “I said an hour. Bye.”

“Girls,” muttered Edward to the closed door. He pulled his gloves on – Roy didn’t know why he bothered, he would take them off again in a few minutes – and they left for the gym.

The corridors were rather quiet, but they met several people discussing in small groups, looking a little worried. Catching a line here and there, Mustang understood they were nervous about the murderer; he hadn’t been caught yet. Well, good for him. Roy just hoped he wouldn’t get in any more trouble because of that guy.

The gym was deserted, perhaps because it was the hour where most people had to head to their jobs. Or maybe they were all hiding from the serial killer. Roy couldn’t have cared less. He had a fight to look forward to.

Coat, gloves, shirt, boots and socks came off as Edward stripped down to only shirt and pants, like Roy. They gave each other a few minutes to stretch, Ed paying special attention to his right shoulder and Roy working on his back. He did feel a pull in his ribcage, but it didn’t seem severe enough to hinder him. He was sure he could still win. Hopefully, it would also be a quick victory; he saw how upset Edward was - so upset he was calm about it – and did not like it one bit. It would have been nice to know exactly what was driving the ill tempered boy up the wall this time, but it could be too many things.

They circled each other - if Roy was momentarily amused by the analogy of two arena dogs, his amusement died when he remembered dogfights were to the death. It was without surprise that the man watched Edward break first, dashing forward for a punch. Roy stepped back, twisting quickly out of the way and attempting to sweep Edward’s legs with his. The boy jumped over his leg with ease, turning in a half circle in midair to bring his own left leg to Mustang’s vulnerable side. The man blocked at the last minute with a bent arm, certain he felt his bones shake under the metallic hit. Edward’s feet touched the ground and he threw himself back to avoid Mustang’s swing. They paused to steady their heartbeats and bring oxygen to their already aching muscles, cautiously watching each other.

Roy remained passive, thinking it was better to let Edward attack and defend his ground rather than try an assault on such a small target. They struggled on, Ed’s attempts to get a hold of the man inevitably failing; Roy knew what the blond was up to, and expertly blocked and ducked his automail each time. It would have been almost easy to fall in a routine and soften the blows to make this practice, but that was not what Edward had in mind. The short blond persisted in his strikes, certainly aware that Roy would sooner or later fail to avoid one and it would be the perfect opportunity to move in for the kill.

Mustang was feeling stiff and uneasy already, eagerly waiting for Edward to present him with an opening. By throwing a punch straight on, per example. Which did not take much time. Roy blocked with his forearm against Ed’s automail one, gripping it with his hand and forcing it back as he swiftly turned along the fake arm’s length to find himself behind Edward. With a normal arm, the blond would have been able to bend his arm sideways and catch Roy, but the automail did not allow the same twist; Ed either had to straighten his arm and then reach back over his shoulder, or turn around to face the man directly. As it was, he had time for neither; Roy’s hand was already jammed in the gaping opening under his right arm, right in the midst of the nerve cables.

Edward froze. “What do you think you’re doing? If I bring down my arm hard, I’ll break all your fingers.”

“My fingers are currently twisted around certain wires which, I heard, are connected directly to your nerves. I’m thinking it wouldn’t be pleasant if they were ripped off because of a sudden movement.” Roy gave Ed the time to realize it was entirely true before continuing, trying to soften his tone, “So all right, Shokun, what’s upsetting you? I’m an agreeable man, fighting is not the only way to solve conflicts I know of.”

“I want you away from my brother,” hissed Edward through clenched teeth, holding still.

Roy didn’t want to lie to get off easy. The boy was going to hear the truth, whether he wanted to or not. The man lightened his grip, feeling Edward shake in what he thought was pain. “You can’t ask him to cut himself from everybody. Maybe you’re fine living like that, but he needs friends.”

Ed laughed briefly and it didn’t sound good. “Sure, friends. What do I look like, stupid? I won’t let you seduce him.”

“Wait-what? You think I’m trying to seduce your brother?” The mongrel said that dumbly, unable to see the logic of it. He liked Al, maybe enough for that, but he certainly wasn’t trying anything. He attempted to puzzle it out. Maybe-? “Why, did Alphonse say anything to you?”

Ed snapped his head to stare at Roy with a strange mixture of fury and despair. The man recoiled of a few inches; that proved to be a bad idea since it almost took his fingers completely away from Edward’s wires. The blondie didn’t hesitate then, ramming his elbow back hard in Roy’s ribcage. The man jerked back, finger catching a wire and pulling it along. The mongrel gasped, falling down to his knees and clutching his side while Edward howled in pain, clutching the underside of his automail with angry tears in his eyes.

“You-!”

Edward kicked sideways with his left leg, hard enough to send Roy crashing to the ground. Well, that did it. Broken ribs again. The stars in his head blinded him and almost made him faint when he shifted to place both hands to the ground and try to push himself up. He groaned, pain radiating in his entire body. He managed to get on his hands and knees before his head exploded in colors again. His arms gave way and his forehead hit the ground with a nasty thud. The ground was cool, and almost pleasant right now. But he didn’t have time to rest. He tried to get up again. This time, it was a hand that pushed his head back down violently, gripping his hair with metallic fingers. The hit made Roy blank out for a few moments.

-

“Bitch,” was the first word Roy caught when he came back to his senses. A part of his mind said ‘damnit, not again’, but overall he didn’t really have any reaction, knowing what was ahead. He was so in for another beating. However, there was readable hesitation in Edward’s next aggressive words. “How about I show you your place, bitch?”

He wants an excuse to back out. Probably just remembered what Alphonse thought of it last time he used his shiny limbs like this. Just say something neutral.

“I’d rather not.”

Okay, that’s good. Add a please and he’ll be happy to pretend he’s being merciful. He’s not hard to manipulate…you could probably write a book about it by now…

But Roy felt reckless comments slip his lips instead, mocking words meant to offend. “Good thing you have automail or you’d get tired before you can hurt me, what with your size. But, you might want to give it up; I believe Alphonse wouldn’t appreciate this. Don’t you think?”

Way to go Mustang. You still haven’t learned to shut up. Sure, bring up his brother and his size at once. You know you’re pushing his worst buttons. What are you, stupid? Sure seems like it.

It was interesting to note that Roy’s inner voice of reason sounded horribly like Hughes. Then again, Hughes had always had a knack to both voice Roy’s thoughts and inform him when he was doing something less-than-intelligent.

“FUCK YOU!”

It was a good thing Roy’s arms were already around his torso, or the kick would have caught his poor, abused ribcage.

Roy still could have dealt with the blows– pain did not bring him down easily – but with broken ribs… Fuck it hurt. If he whimpered once or twice, well he couldn’t be blamed for it; he could feel his goddamned bones move and grind in his flesh in a most unnatural way.

It wasn’t long before tears filled the dark man’s eyes and his vision was as good as gone as the pain raised all sorts of alarms in his brain. Still, he made a point of trying to block and getting back on his feet whenever he was knocked down. The world was a bit fuzzy and he had trouble registering anything else than the pain of a hit and then the feeling of the ground under his numb body, which told him to stand back up because he had fallen to the ground.

When his vision painted itself bloody red, he felt a jab of panic.

Fuck. Not good. Really not good. Tell him to stop before you start throwing up blood.

…

Hello? This is your reason. I’m telling you to ask him to stop. Broken bones and kicks don’t mix well.

…

So we do have a wish for death? Wonderful.

Trying to breathe was a challenge, one that took his entire concentration. Roy could have stopped trying and let himself faint, ending the whole thing, but he refused to do that. This wasn’t anything he couldn’t handle. He just had to breathe and ignore his throbbing side. Ignore the way the bones moved and poked at flesh, raising new pain. Everything was hurting: his head, his chest, his ribcage, his bent arm, his knees.

It was stupid. The voice of reason told him to be reasonable – still sounding horribly like Maes - but the mongrel ignored it stubbornly. He wasn’t quite sure why. It wasn’t like it would wound his pride much more than it already was, to just inform Edward his ribs had given in again and were poking around. Roy knew the blond didn’t intend to kill him, or it would already be done. Ed was just angry beyond reason and knew no other way to solve it than hitting on what upset him until the problem was solved. The man could have told him his state was worsening fast, and Edward would probably drastically cool down and stop. But Roy didn’t. He just…didn’t feel like admitting his weakness and conceding victory.

Idiot.

Roy was aware of the pained sounds he made, moans and whimpers that almost sounded like pleas, but he couldn’t bring himself to care to try and stop making them. It was rhythmic really. Edward would swing an arm or leg back and then swing forward again, connecting with a red hot smash, the motion would throw the man’s body back, his broken ribs would shift in his flesh, the pain would swell up, meet and melt with his headache and dizziness until he wasn’t sure what exactly was hurting anyway.

Mustang should have backed down, should have pleaded or at least stopped resisting, but he didn’t. He tried to stand after each hit, kept giving Ed a calm you-haven’t-gotten-me-down-yet look. He was going to stand until he just couldn’t anymore, even though it made no sense. It felt like forever, but it was certainly only a few minutes before he started to lose touch with reality.

He wanted to snarl, but speech was beyond his capabilities at the moment. You can’t break me.

Edward was saying things, but Roy didn’t hear them anymore. He only saw a victorious smirk float in the corner of his vision when he gave a loud shout and went limp because of the knee driven into him. Roy spat then, spat the blood that filled his mouth.

Roy fell to the ground and did not try to get up again, staring at the red stain just beside him. Edward stared at the dark puddle and at the sprawled man with glassy eyes, chocking on the mongrel’s name. Whatever Ed said or did next, Roy wasn’t aware of it; he fainted.

-

Roy regained a measure of consciousness to the sound of screaming voices. He did not feel anywhere near well enough to be conscious, even less to think, but he now was. It was probably because his subconscious thought there was a danger. It was just Edward and Alphonse, shouting at each other. Or not - it was more about Alphonse screaming at Edward and the latter trying to defend himself.

“You’re just like him! A possessive, sadistic bastard!”

“What the hell are you talking about? I don’t-“

Roy watched, not quite able to understand what was going on, as Al raised his right hand to give his older brother a loud slap. “Get out of here Edward.”

The words hit Ed harder than the slap; he staggered back, pale. “You never call me by my name.”

“I don’t want to call you my brother right now. Go to Winry’s or something. I need time to think. You need to think as well. ”

Edward searched for words but his mouth moved without a sound under the merciless grey stare. He clutched his red coat and left, running. Alphonse stood mutely for so long that by the time he turned to look at Roy, the man could think clearly and the world had stopped spinning. The light still hurt his eyes though, so he had them closed when Al sat on the edge of the bed. Roy peeked at him and wasn’t all that surprised to find a few quiet tears on his cheeks.

It was hard to speak and he felt as if his tongue and mouth were made of dough. “What are you crying about?”

“Ah!” Al wiped his face. “Didn’t notice you waking up.”

“It took time for the room to stop spinning. I can think now. What’s the problem?”

Alphonse gave Roy a sour look. “What do you think is wrong? My brother is a jerk! He almost beat you to death!”

Roy wondered what exactly Al knew. He didn’t ask. “I don’t feel that bad.”

“Only because Clara gave you enough drugs to knock out Armstrong.”

“…that bad?”

Alphonse was uncomfortable under Roy’s demanding gaze; he rubbed the back of his head, eyes averted as he sadly admitted, “She…she said…that maybe…you wouldn’t recover.”

“That’s stupid,” automatically replied the man, scornful. “ I went through worse.”

“I don’t think so,” the blond shook his head and explained, “ You only broke one rib actually, but it nearly pierced your flesh entirely. A little bit more and we would have seen the bone come out. Clara…well I didn’t really watch her…but she had to poke around until it was back in place. You’re lucky you weren’t conscious. You have interior bleeding from the bone tearing your flesh. We’re not sure how bad it is. Clara had patients to see, but she’ll be back later.”

“That doesn’t sound good, but I think you worry too much,” repeated Roy. You didn’t go anywhere with pessimism after all. But it was difficult to find his optimism after hearing those blunt words. He asked next, “So, is there a reason my legs are stacked up over pillows?”

“It’s to send the blood to your vital organs.”

“I see.”

Roy just didn’t feel anything. Once his head cleared, he realized that, beyond his headache, he felt nothing but numbness. He couldn’t even move his hand without looking at it and telling his body to move it. It was unsettling and he might have been nervous if he hadn’t been in the company of somebody he trusted. His mind wouldn’t stay focused very long though, and he drifted off every few minutes. He missed Clara’s arrival but caught the sight of Armstrong leaving.

“Thank you,” called the doctor after the bulky man. Armstrong had probably been the one to haul in the machine that now sat by the bed. Clara looked surprised to find the injured man looking up at her. “You’re awake?”

“For the moment.”

“You’re resisting. Interesting…” Clara jotted a note on her clipboard and glanced at him again. “Edward told me you spat blood? How much? It could be from biting yourself, but I’m afraid it night be bleeding from your lungs.”

“And that would mean I’m screwed?”

“Well, it won’t be easy to fix.”

“So how do you tell? If I spit more blood?”

“Drugging you might have been a bad move,” admitted the woman, taking his wrist to check his pulse. “It makes it difficult to see the telltales. I can’t know if your abdomen is tender. You don’t have quick breathing or unnatural pulse, but you are very pale. Are you thirsty or do you feel nauseous?”

“Both, actually.”

Clara made checks on her boards. “To be truthful…I’m sure you are in very bad shape. I don’t know what to do. You almost certainly need surgery.”

“What’s the problem?” spoke up Al, anxiously. “You’re a good doctor Clara, don’t you think you can do it?”

“I don’t think I’m allowed to,” quietly said the woman. “I don’t think they’ll let me use the facilities. They will pretend it must be free in case somebody important needs immediate treatment.”

“Just for blondies…” Roy shifted, trying to get Alphonse in his vision range. As it was, he could only see the boy’s shadowed face. “Can you operate here, Clara? I can try to make what you need.”

“I’m talking about complex machinery Alphonse. The chances of success are low.”

“But we have to try something.” Al tilted his head, as an idea occurred to him. “There’s still the alchemical way. I can do that. I’m sure I can.”

“That’s a bad idea,” firmly said Clara.

“I don’t mean to offend you, Clara, but I think he has better chance with my alchemy than with rudimentary surgery.”

“With surgery, there is only one life at stake.”

“I don’t care. I’m going to try.” The teenager walked away to a shelf on the opposite wall, crouching down to start pulling books out.

Clara did not look pleased, but she did not try to argue further. Roy suspected Alphonse was a stubborn one and she knew it.

“How dangerous is it exactly, Clara?” inquired Mustang.

She looked down at him absently, dismissing his question as if it was from a child. “Alchemy is always dangerous.”

“Explain. If I can apprehend the human transmutation theory, I can certainly grasp this.” The doctor looked taken aback. “Alphonse has been teaching me,” the man added impatiently. “So, if I understand correctly, he’s going to attempt to do alchemy to fix me? I can see where it would be dangerous for me, since there is no way he can see what he’s doing and he can only guess at what it looks like in there, but why him? Is there a chance of a rebound?”

“We lost several patients and alchemists with this method,” admitted the woman at last. “ Sometimes the alchemist can’t do everything right, and the patient dies. Other times there is indeed a rebound of sorts and instead of healing your organs, the alchemist will transmute his own. Most of the time their death is quick, within a quarter of an hour.”

Roy considered the idea carefully, which took longer than usual since his head still felt clouded. “Do you believe the risks for Alphonse are high? He seems competent.”

“He has better chances of success than anybody else, but that doesn’t make it less dangerous. He has never transmuted a person before.” Here Clara paused, looking troubled with her own words. “Not like this…”

If that wasn’t a proof that the boys had done human transmutation, Roy didn’t know what was. “There’s not a chance he’ll lose more limbs, is there?”

“Oh, no. Either it fails and one – or both – of you die, or it works and you’re on your way to fast recovery.”

“Fast recovery? Not instant recovery?”

The woman shook her head, watching Alphonse flip through book after book. “It’s never perfect, so it’s better for the patient to keep to their bed a few days, a least until we can get an evaluation on their current state.”

The injured man closed his eyes and when he opened them again, he realized he had blanked up for several minutes, a time span long for Alphonse to push the couches and table along the walls and draw an array in the freed space. The array was strangely similar to the ones used to create chimeras, with a second circle creating a border inside the array and alchemical signs in between those lines. A third circle was in the middle, a free space where the animals – or humans – used as material were placed. A few more lines and curves filled the space between the border and the inner circle, and it was those Alphonse was currently studying, adding a few last strokes of chalk to perfect the array.

“Okay,” he said at last, brushing white chalk off his dark pants. “This is good. Roy, come here.”

Al strode over to offer support to the man, almost carrying him the few feet forward to the center of the array and motioning for the dark man to lay flat on his back. Alphonse knelt and ran his hands over Roy’s stomach and sides, head tilted to the side and eyes closed. The mongrel was still drugged enough not to feel any pain, but he did feel the probing fingers and he knew Alphonse was trying to get a mental image of what had to be fixed.

Roy’s mind ran over the mechanism of this alchemy healing. First of all, it required extensive knowledge of the human anatomy, most specifically of how every organ was constructed. Secondly, one needed to know what they were trying to fix, which, Roy guessed, Clara had probably discussed with Al while he was unconscious – or at least he hoped so. Thirdly, well this was still blind work. Every human body was different, so even previous experience would not have guaranteed success.

“Are you sure you know enough to do this?”

“Don’t worry, I won’t hurt you.”

“I’m sure you know how it works but what about the potential rebound?” persisted the man. “I think it isn’t wise to risk your health as well. We should try Clara’s approach.”

“Look, you decided to stand up to Envy to help me, I believe I have the right to do the same?”

Mustang closed his eyes then, giving up. “Equivalent trade,” he smiled.

“No, friendship,” corrected Al.

“ Nice to hear. Just don’t angst if it doesn’t work, alright?”

“Just trust me.” The blondie almost rolled his eyes, visibly finding the mongrel’s concern ridiculous and unfounded. “I know my stuff. I can make this work.”

Well, it was hard not to believe it, when it was said like that. Roy lay and waited, attempting to clear his head of all thoughts. A last minute thought occurred to him as he felt the air around them lit up with energy. “You’re staying inside the array?”

“I can’t see inside of you, I’m going to have to feel it instead. Yes, yes, dangerous. Now shut up.”

Roy did. He couldn’t help his feeling of amusement however. Alphonse’s moody side was, to use Hughes’ favorite word, adorable. Even with his eyes closed, Roy distinctively felt it when the array began to send energy sparkles in the air; it shook the ground under him ever so slightly. He heard Al take one deep breath, his human hand moving on Roy’s lower stomach, and it began. It prickled, just like he had come to expect from alchemical reactions, but this time it wasn’t only on his skin, but under. It was like immaterial fingers were sinking in his body. It was weird and uncomfortable, but not truly painful. It only brought pain when things – organs, bones and fluids– began to move, seeking to reintegrate their rightful place. Roy could not tell what was happening, if it was right or wrong. He only knew there was a reaction and that it was painful enough to wish he had a knife handy to stab whatever was hurting. There was no logic to that wish, but it was his reaction.

“Calm down,” snapped Alphonse, hand pushing down to encourage him to stay motionless.

It wasn’t easy, but Roy managed to stop squirming, bracing himself against the hard wood of the floor with his fingers clawing at it as if to dig holes. He gritted his teeth and hoped it would be over before he died from lack of oxygen; he couldn’t breathe, only gape on mute pain.

The pain receded after blinding him a few excruciating moments, the immaterial fingers leaving with the telltale prickling in his flesh. The array died, the energy dispersed, and all that was left was sore throbbing - the ghost of the precedent pain - and the irregular gasps of the two males. Alphonse collapsed on Mustang, only to mumble an excuse and try to push himself away with little success.

“I’m fine,” uttered Roy. He slowly sat up, right arm around Al to support the boy who leaned heavily into him. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah. Just…I expected to be tired, not exhausted. I had to stop, just to be safe. But I think it’s mostly healed up.”

“Congratulation,” said Clara warmly, leaving the corner from which she had watched the scene in silence. “It seems you’re both alive, and neither of you screamed their lungs out. Impressive.”

“I said I could do it,” mumbled Al, still resting his forehead against Roy’s collarbone.

“Lay down, Alphonse,” ordered Clara. “I’m going to do a check up and see what’s left to heal.”

The boy did not need to be told twice; Roy nudged him encouragingly and the teenager crawled to the nearest couch, climbed on it and stopped moving. Roy shortly found himself bandaged and tucked in bed with the express order of not moving for three days.

“It should be enough for anything not quite right to fix itself,” explained Clara. “Despite what Alphonse said, he did a nearly perfect job, I think. The bruises are still there of course. They are harder to heal than broken bones, it’s too delicate. Some rest should fix anything that’s left to do. You don’t really hurt anymore, do you?”

“No, but with the drugs-“

“The reaction cleared your body from its effects, didn’t it?”

Roy had to agree. True, he had felt the pain. So this was it? Edward had sent him on near-death trip and here he was, a few hours later, in better shape than he had been for weeks. As far as they knew, all that remained were superficial bruises. That was nothing. Roy had often collected them since he couldn’t resists roughing up idiots sometimes.

“Understood. Thank you.” His gaze traveled over to where Alphonse rested. “Could you please wake me when he’s better, Clara? I need to talk to him.”

The woman gave him a nod and he smiled in thanks, closing his eyes. Roy wasn’t sure what exactly he would tell Al, but they certainly needed to discuss Edward’s behavior. Roy did not appreciate it at all. Edward was going to have to admit there were no reason they couldn’t get along.

Mustang vaguely wondered at what point he started wanting to ‘get along’ with Edward, but the issue slipped his mind, chased away by slumber.