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Demon In the Design	By : antilogicgirl Category: Fullmetal Alchemist > Yaoi - Male/Male Views: 1597 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Fullmetal Alchemist, or any of the characters therein, nor do I derive any monetary profit from the writing of this fiction.

Chapter List
- 1
- 2
- 3
A/N: Here's the second installment. It's much longer than the last one, which was nothing but setup. Now, I have to warn you that things are going to get pretty heavy toward the end of the chapter. Neither one of them is being completely truthful, so just watch out for that. And as always, I'm very grateful for your reviews. Everyone seems to think that there will be a huge group of people that want to kill Roy. That might be a bit of a disappointment, since that won't happen. But I think what does happen is satisfying. So read, and enjoy.
Warnings:
FL--Foul Language
Psy--Psychological
V--Mild Violence
Title: Demon In the Design (or… A Good Idea At the Time)
Series: Full Metal Alchemist
Pair: Roy/Ed
Begun: November 3, 2008
Complete:
Summary: Prank wars never end well. Design, Deception, Denial and Decision take Roy Mustang to an unexpected Destination.
II: Deception
Roy Mustang was content. It was nearly seven in the evening but for once, even if he was at work, he thought it was more bearable than usual. One might ask him why this was. To such a question, Roy would have to answer with two words: Edward Elric. With the amount of paper now piled neatly on Edward’s small desk, he knew that he could call his date and they might resume their plans, but that would spoil everything. After all, the blonde man had made a visible effort to curb both his temper and his sharp tongue and Roy was not going to jeopardize the rare experience that was being in the presence of a docile Edward. When he spoke, his voice was soft, and every so often, he caught those golden eyes looking at him.
He read pity in Ed’s eyes, along with something rather sad. Probably thinking of how he won’t have me to yell at much longer…Covering up his smile by leaning into his balled fist, Roy tried to think of what it might be like if the shoe were on the other foot. And if the situation were not fabricated. What would life be like if he did not have his short-tempered subordinate around? For one thing, he knew that it would be much less eventful. Having Ed around meant that there was never a dull moment. Not to mention the fact that if there was a problem involving alchemy, the two of them could debate about it all day, which helped to pass the time.
Roy and Ed could come up with the exact same solution for a problem. Really, they could. But it was how they arrived at their answers that would fuel their arguments…it did not matter about basic theories, and that various procedures could be carried out to create the same result. What mattered was that Edward did not do things his way. Granted, his form of Alchemy was far removed from what Edward was used to, and the methods he employed were often described by the younger man as “tedious and in need of revision”, but how on earth could they really sit there and argue for six hours about the best way to create a time-delayed alchemical array?
Yes, he realized, if Edward suddenly developed a life-threatening illness and died, he might miss him. Or, rather, he would miss certain things about him.
“Roy?” Came Edward’s newly-assumed gentle tone, “It’s seven o’clock.”
He nodded. “Yes. I suppose I should let you go home now.”
For a few moments, he pretended to be doing his paperwork, listening to the soft rustle of cloth, the scrape of a chair on flooring. And then he heard footsteps approach his desk. Usually, his subordinates stood in front of the desk. Even Riza, whom he had known for many years, kept her position strictly formal. But Edward did not move around to the front of the desk. He approached directly to the side, standing only a few feet from the chair in which Roy sat. “How are you feeling?”
Ed watched as Roy looked up from his papers. He looked more relaxed than he had been earlier, and for that, Ed was glad. “I feel much better than a few hours ago, thank you.” A few seemingly long seconds passed, during which Roy simply sat there, his chair still facing the door, head turned toward the younger man. “You can go now, Fullmetal.”
It felt odd, sort of disproportionate to be able to call his commanding officer by his given name, while he was still addressed by his title. They had never really been on friendly terms, but if Roy was sick…maybe he should make an effort to know him better? There must be a good man under all that arrogance and hair. “You…” he began, somehow finding it difficult to suggest, “You can call me Ed, if you want.” Roy only nodded before turning back to his papers. That was as good a dismissal as any. “Good night si—I mean, Roy. Try to get some sleep.”
Riza watched as Ed carefully shut the door to the General’s office, making as little noise as possible. Earlier, she had performed the minor insubordination of moving from the spot where she had been for nearly an hour. It was not as if Roy would remember that she was out there, waiting to be released from her position. She sat at her desk, nearby the door out of which the young alchemist had just come. Ed turned to her and gave a short wave, saying in a quieter version of his voice, “Good night, Riza.”
It was strange, the tone he was using, as if he were trying not to wake someone who was asleep. “Good night, Edward,” she replied, and kept her eyes glued to the way he moved, much more at ease than before. Then, Riza thought that maybe he had snuck out, because Roy had fallen asleep. That was altogether possible. The General did sometimes succumb to fatigue while at work, but it was rare. However, she had been wondering about the reason for how quiet it had been after Roy dragged Ed into his office.
Had the young alchemist done something? Perhaps Roy was hog-tied and gagged. That would make sense, and if so, she would be sure to take a few pictures before setting him free. Moving over to the door, she listened. All was still. Without knocking, she turned the knob and entered the office. Instead of finding the man drooling on his papers or restrained on the floor, he simply sat in his chair, hands folded, with a rather pleased smile on his face.
“Sir,” Riza said in her firmest tone, “I am only going to ask once. What is going on?”
His dark eyes turned away from whatever thoughts in which they’d been immersed. One of his eyebrows rose. “I have no desire to enlighten you on the matter, First Lieutenant. Please, exit the way you came in.” She could feel her back stiffen. What the hell was going on that he didn’t feel like telling her? As Riza moved to comply with his orders, she glanced at the small desk. Neatly stacked papers lined the front side, while a small blotter sat closest to the chair behind. Forms the largest of the stacks seemed to be of forms which had been filled out completely, while another looked only to need the General’s signature.
Whatever it was that Roy was up to, it seemed to be nothing more than a way to shirk his duties. Again, her eyes narrowed. When her hand met the doorknob, she looked back over her shoulder. “What you’re doing, Sir…if I find out that you cause any damage to the Major, you will regret it.”
A sudden chill came over Roy as the door closed behind Riza. “That woman…” he muttered. She was capable of freezing him on the spot. The glare she’d sent at him just before she left had caused him to shiver, if only a little. But what harm could a joke like this cause? Ed had a thick skin. He could take it. And if he got some peace and quiet—and someone willing to wait on him hand and foot—then so much the better.
Alphonse Elric was sitting at the kitchen table, peeling potatoes when his brother got home. The front door made a squealing sound, just as it always did, and then closed. “Brother! How do you feel about—“ and then Edward walked into the kitchen. He was utterly disheveled: hair frizzy from having obviously gotten wet, his uniform so rumpled that it looked as if it had been slept in, he had a spot of ink on the end of his nose. He also seemed only to be partially there, as if his brain had long since checked out for the day. “—Wh-what in the name of God happened to you?!”
Ed’s far-off look did not change much as he waved his auto-mail hand at Al. “Nothing…just the toilet exploded this morning. I’m fine. The General let me work in his office with him.” Al’s expression became even more alarmed at his brother’s words, but all of his sputtering went unnoticed. Edward just passed through the kitchen on his way to the hallway bathroom, leaving a gawking Alphonse holding his knife and potato. “I’ll be out in a few minutes.” Soon thereafter, he heard the shower roar to life.
Resuming his previous task, Al tried to think of what it was that could be wrong with his brother. He did seem a little tired, but never before had fatigue made him seem so despondent. There must be something else. A soft ‘plunk’ sounded as he dropped the last potato into the pot. Well, he thought, I guess it doesn’t matter what I cook, since Ed doesn’t seem to care. After another moment or two of thought, he decided on having mashed potatoes. It might be nice to have some ham, as well.
Ed momentarily came back into the kitchen, dressed in freshly washed lounge pants and a sleeveless undershirt. He was rubbing at his hair with a gray towel. When he peeked out from under the towel, he looked into the pot. “Do you think there will be enough for three?”
Al’s eyes couldn’t seem to widen enough. Were they having a guest? “I…I suppose so. Who’s coming?”
From under the towel, Al heard, “No one.” Just as he was going to try and protest, Ed supplied, “I was thinking of bringing the General something. He’s going to be stuck at headquarters for a few more hours, yet.” Now Al was extremely confused. What in the world was going on that his brother suddenly wanted to bring the senior alchemist something to eat? The silence that ensued apparently reached Ed with its awkward quality, and the older man pulled the towel from his head. “He…he’s not feeling well. There’s nothing more pitiful than Roy when he’s sick.” There was something more to it, Al was sure, but he knew better than to press Edward for information. If he wanted to tell him, then he would. There was nothing more to it.
Roy Mustang leaned back in his chair. It was close to ten o’clock. His neck was beginning to stiffen from bending over all of these papers, and long since, he’d developed a headache from lack of food. Just as he thought about said headache again, his stomach rumbled. He knew better than to venture into the cafeteria at this hour. All that would be available would be half-burned soup and stale day-old bread. This late, there was only a skeleton crew at headquarters, and he’d shoved Riza out of the door an hour ago. She worked too hard for her own good, and someone had to force her to relax.
There were still many things he needed to do before he could go home. Sighing, he stood to stretch his legs for a moment. Roy stepped around his chair, turning to look out of the window. The lights of the city twinkled, dimmed by the light of the room reflected in the glass. He studied his reflection. To be sure, it was a handsome face. Well formed, finely placed features that now partially hid behind hair that never seemed to obey his wishes looked back at him. It was a handsome face, indeed, and young, but one look into his eyes at the moment, and he could swear he was close to ninety.
Why did he feel so old? He knew that he had seen some things…that he had done things. Roy had heard that these things made a man feel as if he were older than he was. But what about what was left? Was there anything left of the man he had been? Before that day he’d nearly taken his own life, stopped only by a man that had given his own life to protect—
“No,” he said softly, closing his eyes, “not tonight. Don’t think of that.”
A soft knock on his door had him instinctively shoving his hands into his pockets, rummaging for his gloves. Dark eyes flew open, and the door swung inward. In the window, he saw something that broke a little of his brain. Edward Elric stood in the darkened doorway, a bundle the size of a medicine-ball in his arms. “Roy?” The tentative way his name was said disturbed him somewhat, but he turned around anyway. The younger man stood there in street clothes, looking rather uncomfortable, holding the large bundle wrapped in what appeared to be a gingham tablecloth. He hefted it for a moment, and then took a few steps into the office. “I thought…well…I knew that you were probably still here, and since it’s partially my fault…”
“Spit it out, Edward.” Good grief, the kid could be stupid sometimes!
The corners of Ed’s mouth turned down, and he marched straight forward, plunking the bundle down on top of all the papers on Roy’s desk. Instead of saying anything—Roy suspected it might come out rather sharp if he did—Ed just started untying the large knot at the top of the tablecloth. When the corners were flung aside, Roy could not believe his eyes. There were plastic containers, each filled with a different dish. Edward had brought him dinner.
Ed watched Roy from the corner of his eye. The look on his face as he started opening the container that held the ham Al had re-heated was absolutely priceless. He looked like a man that had not eaten in a week. When he popped open the mashed potatoes, and unwrapped a small lump of butter, he thought Roy was going to have a fit. Finally, there was a small bowl of peas and carrots, which was given a cursory glance. It appeared that he and Roy had something in common: a mutual distaste for vegetables. “Hungry?” Ed asked, not quite able to keep the amusement from his voice.
“A little.” Roy admitted before he sat down in his chair. “Did you—“
Ed waved a dismissive hand. “Hell no. Al’s the cook. I’m just the delivery guy.” For a moment, he simply watched as the other man looked at the food, seemingly unable to fathom the fact that it was there. “You gonna eat it, or do I have to make you?” That was all it took, really, for Roy to start digging in. Something in Ed’s stomach eased at the sight of Roy eating. His mother had always seemed to eat so little toward the end, when she got sick. In the back of his mind, there was a part of Ed that knew it was a bad thing that he kept thinking of his mother when he was around Roy now. But it was simply not in his nature to allow himself to sit there and watch someone close to him waste away. And, whether he liked to admit it or not, Roy was sort of a permanent fixture in his life, and had been for a while now.
“Thanks, Ed,” Roy said around a mouth full of mashed potatoes.
“All right,” Ed said, “I’m going to get back. You can wash that stuff and give it back tomorrow.”
He was halfway to the door when he heard, “Hey,” Ed stopped and turned. “It’s boring to eat alone. Why not stay a while?” Ed gave a little chuckle, but pulled up the chair from his little desk.
“Don’t forget to eat the vegetables.” He said, instantly feeling a twinge, knowing that he sounded like a mom. Instead of giving him flak for it, Roy just rolled his eyes and continued to eat. The room was filled with the sounds of a meal, and Ed fell into his own thoughts, fiddling with the edge of his sleeve. After some time, Ed gave a small cough, and said, “So what are you going to do?”
Roy paused, fork halfway to his mouth. He lay it down, and fixed Ed with a penetrating stare. “Why?”
Ed wondered that, himself. Was he feeling guilty? Did he suddenly develop sympathy for Roy because he was dying? Or, was it as he was beginning to suspect…was he replacing his mother with Roy? That did, at first, seem completely inconceivable. But the more he thought, the more it seemed like this new need he had to make sure that Roy ate his vegetables, that he got enough sleep, that he live…that it was all him. It was all his need to save someone, because he couldn’t save her. But was he going to tell that to Roy? That question could be answered in two words: Hell no.
Instead, he decided that it was best to make it about Roy. “I don’t want you to remember me as some pissy teen-aged brat.” This was partially true, but for the most part, it was a bald-faced lie. However, once the deception began, it was difficult to stop. “Is it a crime that I might feel like figuring out who you are before you’re not here anymore?”
Roy smiled a little. “The doctor didn’t give me a time-limit, so I’m just going to keep working.”
Ed was confused. “Then…then there might be a way to fix it? You might get well?”
Roy felt sick. Why was his stomach turning like that? Had Ed poisoned him? No, that wasn’t it. He was pretty sure that the food had been fine, especially since Al had been the one to make it. What made him ill was the look of blind hope in the younger man’s face when he asked that damned question. So he did what he was best at. He evaded. “I don’t know, Ed.” The corners of Ed’s mouth started to creep downward again. He wasn’t at all sure if he liked that look. What was he frowning for? Did he think…and that’s when the proverbial light bulb came on over his head. “I’m not going to lay down and die, if that’s what you mean.”
His answer seemed to satisfy Ed, to some extent. The left corner of his mouth jerked up, giving him a crooked sort of smile. “No,” Ed said, “I hoped you wouldn’t. For a minute there, you had me worried.”
Before he could stop himself, he let out a laugh. “That sounded almost like a compliment, Ed. You should be careful. I might start to think you care.” Ed looked rather surprised for a minute, and then seemed to relax. Roy had to wonder at how quickly things had gone from awkward and tense to this ease and friendliness. Maybe he should have faked a life-threatening illness sooner?
Ed’s voice broke into his thoughts, “I guess I should get going now, and let you finish your work.” Before he stood up from his chair, Roy glimpsed a slight reddish color in Ed’s face. What in the world was the guy blushing for? Was he embarrassed by something? Or…
“Why don’t you hang around for a while? I won’t make you work or anything. Just keep me company, okay?” He wasn’t sure what he was going to get out of having Ed in his office for more than 12 hours in a day, but this whole situation was intriguing. There were sides of the young alchemist he had never seen before, and Roy couldn’t help but want to observe them.
Ed gave a huff. “Like I’m just going to sit here while you work…” For a few seconds, he thought that he would be left alone, but was quite surprised when Edward went right back to his chair, pulling back to the smaller desk. “I hate just sitting around while other people work.” His auto-mail hand sheared off a small stack of forms from the short stack on the front of the desk. “It makes me feel useless.”
Roy watched as Ed picked up a pen, and bent over a maintenance request. That much was true. It did seem at times that the elder Elric brother was not happy unless he was well occupied. But Edward was anything but useless, and it was strange that his subordinate might feel that way. “Well,” Roy said, hiding an amused smile as he gathered up the dirty containers from his dinner, “just don’t expect any overtime pay for this.”
He got no reaction out of Ed other than a growled, “Cheapskate…”
At nearly one in the morning, Roy looked over at Ed’s desk. The younger man was fast asleep, his face resting on his flesh arm, hair covering his eyes. The papers on the desk were in two stacks. His own desk was in similar condition. It was good that they had been able to get so much work done. That meant there would be less to do in the morning before the usual flood of papers came in. Standing, he moved over to the small desk. “Ed,” he said quietly, but the younger man did not stir. He put a hand on Ed’s shoulder, shaking him gently.
The auto-mail hand shot out and grabbed his wrist, twisting sharply and pulling down. Roy grunted in pain, forced to his knees from the angle at which his arm was being yanked. Ed’s eyes fluttered open, and he glared blindly at Roy for a moment before coming fully awake. Horror filled golden eyes, and he quickly released Roy’s arm. “Are you all right? I’m sorry!” Not waiting for an answer, Ed pulled out the silver cuff-link from his shirtsleeve, and pushed both shirt and jacket fabrics away, up past Roy’s elbow. Gently, with his flesh hand, he felt the bones and tendons. “It’s okay. Nothing’s broken or anything.”
He looked very relieved, as if he’d truly been afraid of hurting Roy. “I’m not made of glass, you know.”
Ed looked away as he replaced the sleeves and cuff-link. “I know you aren’t. But I…I was having a bad dream…and I lashed out at you. Sorry.” Roy took in the other man’s body language. The way his shoulders were drawing in and up, lips thinning, and that he would not look at him. He was really concerned. More to the point, Ed was scared he might have hurt him.
“Hey,” he said in his most amiable tone, “Don’t worry about it. I’m fine.” Ed still looked uncomfortable. “Come on, kid. Let me take you home.” He stood, and moved to get his coat. Ed didn’t move. “Ed?”
A crease had formed between blond eyebrows, and then he heard, “I think I’ll walk.”
There was something in Ed’s tone that told him he really shouldn’t leave the younger man alone. He’d heard his own voice sound like that many times. “I’ll walk with you, then.” The look he got from Edward then could have scorched stone, but he didn’t give up. “I ate vegetables. You’re stuck with me.” There was some growling as Ed shoved his arms into his dark brown coat, but he did wait for Roy. Taking up the tablecloth bundle, he made for the door, and hit the lights on the way out.
The walk through the building was mostly silent, with the occasional footfall from the night guards. They got to the street, and turned right to walk to Edward’s apartment. Half a block of stony silence later, Roy couldn’t take it anymore. “You going to tell me what you were having a nightmare about, or do I have to beat it out of you?”
In a very snippy tone, Ed spat, “No. It’s none of your business.”
Keeping his tone smooth and calm, he replied as he stepped over a drain, “It became my business when you tried to break my arm, Ed.” Even in the dim lights of the street, he could see how annoyed Ed was. It was one of his most common expressions, after all, and was easy to identify. It was a long few minutes before he got any form of answer.
“What do you dream about that you wake up screaming, in a cold sweat, Roy?” Ed had stopped walking, now. A nearby streetlamp caught his eyes, causing them to flash. “A man like you must have seen a lot. You’ve been at war. You’ve done things. Killed people. What do your demons look like?” Roy blinked in surprise. This was suddenly getting a lot heavier than he liked.
Trying to evade again, he said, “That’s not something I usually talk about without large amounts of alcohol in my system.”
Ed’s voice became calm, and determined. “I have a bottle of single-malt 30-year-old whiskey left over from my birthday.”
Roy’s surprise knew no bounds. He couldn’t tell Ed that it wasn’t his business. That excuse was one he’d just flattened, himself. So he just relented. “Fine. Lead the way.” The rest of the walk to Ed’s building was long, and silent. Both men were lost in their own thoughts, battling their own demons. The building was falling into disrepair, and the elevator was rickety, but otherwise, it was in decent shape. When they approached the door, Ed put a finger over his lips. Apparently, he believed Al would be asleep.
The hinge creaked when the door swung inward, and Roy listened intently. It seemed that Alphonse was indeed asleep. Ed pointed to a spot on the floor, just inside the door. “Stay here,” he whispered, “I’ll go get the bottle and a couple glasses.” Without another word, Ed disappeared into the darkness of the apartment, leaving Roy standing there. Only a few moments later, he returned and shoved Roy toward the door again. “We can’t talk in here. Al’s pretty grouchy if you wake him up in the middle of the night.”
Once they were outside the apartment again, Ed led him through a short hallway to a door. This door led to a short, narrow staircase. When they exited the ascending passage via another door, Roy saw that they were now on the roof. Near the street-side, there was a low table and a couple of wrought-iron chairs. It was to this table that Edward walked. Roy followed, only because he could think of no way out.
They seated themselves, and Ed pulled the cork from the bottle. He set down the glasses and poured a finger of amber liquid in the bottom, then pushed one at Roy. “Bottoms up,” Ed muttered before throwing his head back and downing the whiskey. A small hiss accompanied the intake of breath after this process. Roy wondered how often Ed did this. Did he often drink to forget his problems? Ed’s auto-mail hand made a vague waving gesture in his direction. “You, too, Roy.”
He did as he was told, tossing down the alcohol as quickly as his companion. Surprisingly, it was actually pretty good stuff. It must have been the bottle that Armstrong had given him. They sat there for a few minutes and watched a couple of cars go by, and Roy reached for the bottle. Pouring himself a double, he began to speak. “You wanted to know about my demons…they’d probably seem pretty familiar to you. A couple of them look a lot like your friend, Winry. But you know about those…” Roy trailed off, suddenly feeling the need to drink more quickly.
Ed nodded, pouring himself another drink. He sipped, eyes closing. When he pulled the glass away from his lips, he asked, “Have you ever wondered…if you just did something because you knew you could? You know, the kinds of things that you’d never actually do, but know that you have the ability and know-how?” Roy watched Ed’s face. It twisted into a mask of self-loathing. His flesh hand gripped the glass, and he drank the rest of its contents. “I look in the mirror sometimes, and I see that potential. It’s there. I could do those things. All I have to do is clap.”
Roy waited a minute or two before speaking. During that time, he swallowed the remainder of his whiskey, trying to think of how he should phrase his thoughts, and poured another. “That’s something each of us has to deal with in his own way, Ed. You have the power to create horrors the like of which man has never seen, quite literally in the palm of your hand. But it’s what you do that matters. I know that you would never do those things.”
“Wouldn’t I?” Ed’s eyes shut tighter, and then his head hung down toward the table. The fingers of his auto-mail hand dug into his hair, and he made a sound of frustration. “I’ve already done things that are forbidden. What makes you think that I wouldn’t…that I couldn’t…” Roy set down his glass. There was so much of his own struggle in Ed that it pained him to see it. He reached out, but the only part of Ed he could touch was his hand. Gripping that hand, he spoke.
“The fact that you’re this affected by it proves that you wouldn’t. I’d rather kill myself than do those things in my dreams, no matter how much the little voices in my head might try to tempt me.” Ed opened his eyes, a strange new expression in them. It was as if he were only just now seeing who Roy really was. He opened his mouth, but the dark-haired man simply plowed on. “So don’t try telling me that you think you’re such a horrible person because you know what you’re capable of. I could fry you where you sit, and you could skewer me with a spear made from your chair. That doesn’t mean we’re going to actually do it.”
Ed’s hand fell away from his glass, instead grasping Roy’s own. He could see tears forming in golden eyes, threatening to fall in fat droplets. “Thank you,” Ed breathed, his voice taking on a rough edge as he tried to fight off the tide of emotion that was breaking over him. He seemed so fragile just then, as if…he might break at any moment. Unbidden, the image of Ed’s face earlier in the day when he’d begun his joke floated to the surface of his mind. Okay, he thought with a twinge of guilt, so maybe it wasn’t such a hot idea.
Now that he’d admitted as much to himself, Roy was a little uncertain as to how he should proceed. Should he tell Ed that it was a joke, and risk being thrown off of the roof after being skewered by the aforementioned spear? Or should he just pretend? A little voice spoke up from the darkened corners of his mind, sounding a little sickly and ill-used. The longer you wait, the worse it will be. That would be his conscience. When was the last time he’d heard from that thing? It must have been a while, because the voice was almost foreign, nearly unrecognizable. Misuse of his conscience aside, he struggled with himself over this. There were a few things that might happen. Ed could attempt to kill him, at which point he would be forced to defend himself, and they might destroy the building. On another tack, Ed might decide that revenge was best served cold, and do something far worse to him.
It was odd, but he didn’t think he wanted things to go back to the way they had been at the beginning of the day. Roy liked having Ed as a friend. When he let himself relax, Ed was decent to be around. Roy was pretty sure that the problem before had been that Ed felt threatened. They’d always been at odds, and it was nice to bury the hatchet, even if it had been under false pretenses. After all, those who found their names on Edward Elric’s Shit List tended to end up either dead or very, very sorry. Without even having the younger man do a thing to him, Roy was already in that latter category. So there was only death to be afraid of? He could handle that.
“Ed,” he said quietly, but when Ed didn’t look up, he repeated himself. “Ed, look at me.” The click of auto-mail accompanied Ed’s fingers leaving his hair, and he looked up at Roy. Hair now stuck out in several directions from that side of his head, and he had tears running down his face. Way to make it hard on a guy, Ed… “I have to tell you something.”
Ed wiped his face, sniffling. Roy was looking very serious, which was somewhat rare. Even when he’d told him that he was dying, he didn’t look like that. What could be worse than cancer? His mind started whirling, trying to figure out what it was that the other man needed to tell him that could possibly be worse than the news he’d given him earlier, but it could find nothing. “What?” he croaked, hating the way his voice did that when he was upset.
There was hesitation in Roy’s face, and he seemed to be tensing up. “Now, Ed, I’m going to be completely honest with you here, so just keep that in mind.” Ed felt like someone had dropped a lump of frozen lead into his guts. This couldn’t be good. He heard Roy swallow hard before the man holding his hand spoke. “I know you figured out that it was me…with the toilet thing—“
“Who else at headquarters knows how to push my buttons like you do, Roy?” he made a snorting sound. “I knew the second that the damned thing exploded that it was you.” After all, there were few people in the military with quite that type of propensity for childishness. That seemed to make Roy smile, but only for a second. Then, he was right back to looking as if death hung over him.
“But I got pissed off when you wet my papers. I was supposed to have a date tonight. She’s got really nice legs, you know. I could be looking at those while pretending not to right now, rather than holding your hand—no offense. That’s why…” Ed’s eyes widened, and that ball of lead in his stomach sank lower, taking his heart with it. He wouldn’t… But it appeared that he would, and did. “That’s why I lied and told you that I had cancer.”
Ed froze for a long moment. He stared at Roy, who looked as if he were going to be sick. That was a new one. For once in his miserable life, Roy Mustang looked as if he felt remorse. Instead of yelling, he let out a wry laugh. “You know,” he said bitterly, “I can’t believe I was actually starting to like you.” Ed wasn’t really sure where that came from, but in situations like this, he found it best to shoot from the hip. “Just when I think you’re human, you go and do something like this.”
“Ed—“
He tightened his grip on Roy’s hand just until he was sure it would be painful. Through clenched teeth, he snapped, “Shut your mouth, Roy. You’ve said enough for one day.” His chest hurt. “I started to trust you,” he growled, starting to lever himself up from where he sat. “You wanted to know what I was dreaming? I’ll tell you, you son of a bitch. I was dreaming that you were dying. Really dying. I was fighting the Gate, tooth and claw, trying to keep you out of it. Now, I wish I would have broken your goddamned arm.” Ed could feel a poisonous sensation creeping through him, and it was difficult to stay calm. It wasn’t even satisfying to hear the bones in Roy’s hand start grinding together. “I…” Ed began, but lost track of his own thoughts. He didn’t know what he wanted to say anymore.
“Ed,” Roy said haltingly, pain evident on his face, “I didn’t mean it. I didn’t think you would take it this way.”
A red film flashed over Ed’s vision. “How the fuck was I supposed to take it? You have my file, Roy. I know that you’re aware my mother died of cancer. How did you expect me to react when another person in my life is going to die of the same fucking thing?” He squeezed Roy’s hand tighter, and felt only slightly rewarded when he felt a snap in the older man’s hand.
Roy was breathing harder now, obviously trying not to cry out in pain. Instead, he said, “I thought you were stronger than that. I thought…I don’t know what I thought. I’m sorry, Ed.” Ed watched as Roy’s head lowered to the table, forehead pressed into the weathered wood. All struggle and tension went out of him, and he just sort of laid there, his arm twisted up at an odd angle and Ed close to breaking another of his metacarpal bones. Again, Ed was struck by how unsatisfying it was to cause physical harm to this man. He’d always thought it would be like an epiphany. He would feel so much better, so much freer after breaking Roy’s bones…but that wasn’t the case. Slowly, Ed released his hold on Roy’s hand. After a long moment of staring at the General, Ed reached out and corked the bottle.
“Come on, you sad sack,” he muttered, using his position to lever Roy to his feet. “I guess I should get you to the hospital. I broke your hand.”
Roy’s eyes stayed on the ground, and he shrugged. “I kind of deserved it.” Ed rolled his eyes. Of course he deserved it, but it was nowhere near as much fun as it should have been. He wasn’t sure what that said about his state of mind, but whatever that might be, it couldn’t be good.
A/N: Sorry if it was too long. I feel like they're letting something slip away, and I just can't keep hold of it.
A note on canon and accuracy: I'm not exactly sure what it was that Trisha Elric died of. Though I've seen the Anime, I have only gotten through 1 volume of the Manga, so if there's any detail that I've missed on that account, please forgive me. For the purposes of this story, Trisha died of cancer. Also, where age is concerned, I'm basing age off of Edward, who is 20. All other ages should be adjusted accordingly in your minds, to avoid that increasingly pesky confusion over child pron.
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