Gold and Charcoal

Gold and Charcoal
Chapter 9
Trap

The real day started around eleven over the usual cups of coffee, Edward saying he wasn’t heading to work today either. “I never take any vacation, so they can stuff it. They’ll fetch me if there’s something really bad going on, otherwise Russell can take care of it. He’s got to be useful sometimes.”

“And what did this ‘Russell’ do to you, Shokun?” wondered Roy aloud.

“He’s taller,” coughed Al in his cup. “And younger,” he added when Edward gave him a murderous glare.

Ed was red but his anger was minimal since he was still groggy. “You know, you could have some sort of respect for your elder!”

“Don’t they say the ones who tease you are the ones who love you?” said Roy, leaning back in his chair with an arm lazily thrown over the back of it. “It might say something about your mechanic, Winry.”

“Winry is already taken.” Ed made a face. “And if that was true, what would your goddamn attitude mean?”

“Well, I am after anything with breasts anyway,” evaded the mongrel. “Why don’t you date? Catherine Elle was it? She was one pretty lady, and about your age.”

“You’re a pedophile,” replied Edward. “How old are you, thirty five?”

“Thirty,” corrected Roy, vaguely insulted. “At sixteen, they’re fair game I remind you.”

“Whatever. It’s not like I like girls anyway.”

Roy lifted an eyebrow but otherwise did not react. He wasn’t really surprised after all. “You don’t?”

“You have a problem with that?”

“Why would I? It’s your life.”

“Damn right,” grimly replied Ed.

“Short, but yours.”

“…SHUT UP.”

Roy smirked and did just that. He drank a bit of coffee, not because he needed or liked it, but for the sake of doing like the boys. It was part of the morning’s ritual here and somehow he found himself dragged into these little rituals lately.

The boys discussed a list of things they wanted to buy, things like clothes for the pet, toothpaste, toilet paper, and some materials obviously meant for alchemical purposes, like silver and mercury. Maybe he would get to see some serious alchemy sometime; Roy was sure it would be fascinating.

-

They were still all seated at the table when there was a sharp blow at the door. Roy was momentarily afraid it was Armstrong because the door literally shook on its hinges. But when Alphonse walked over to unlock it, it was Winry that came in, irradiating anger She ran past Al and collapsed on one of the couches, clutching her arm and shaking. She wiped away tears and hissed something that did not sound very polite.

They all looked at her, then at each other. Girly tomboyness, check. Angry tears? None of them thought a sin would cry for any reason, Envy less than anybody else.

Edward frowned. “Winry? What’s wrong?” The only word they caught was ‘her!’

Alphonse touched the girl’s shoulder. “Her? Hawkeye? What happened?” She wouldn’t answer in any other way than angry mumbling so he tried to get her to stop clutching herself and look at him. But, when he touched her arm, she gave a cry of pain. Al gasped, “Winry! You’re bleeding!”

Ed swore and got to his knees too, demanding to know what had put her in this state. Roy, smart as he was – or pretended he was - had already noticed the red wound. He suddenly appeared at their side, towel, disinfectant and bandages in hand. The boys made room for the man and kept trying to pry some answers from the sulking female.

“Winry, is that a gun wound? Hawkeye didn’t really shoot you, did she?”

Roy firmly batted the girl’s hand away to see the injury. He confirmed, “That’s a gun wound, no doubts.”

Edward scowled, anger and indignation burning in his clear gaze. “She shot you! I’m going to kill her!”

“I’ll kill her myself!” The girl calmed down after her small outburst, glaring at the floor.

“Hawkeye really shot you?” Alphonse was upset. “Starting a fight isn’t a reason for her to harm you! She has no right to do that!”

Winry finally admitted the exact circumstances, “She wasn’t aiming at me. She…she…I was throwing things at her and she was just shooting them down to protect herself and…and…my wrench hit her gun and deflected her angle and it hit me.”

“And she just let you leave like that?”

“I ran away.” She wiped away fresh tears and bit her lower lip while her arm was being bandaged. It wasn’t a dangerous wound, but it must have stung severely. The tears were probably far more about Winry’s pain and anger than anything else. She seemed a little too strong headed to cry like this out of guilt. It didn’t make Roy less uncomfortable about the situation. Ugg, tears. So not his area of expertise.

“You can stop crying,” said Roy. “It’s nothing. It will heal easily.”

Winry looked at her bandaged arm a second. Her anger deflated as she realized how light the wound was. She looked sulky when she asked, “What am I going to do about Riza? Am I supposed to apologize? “ She did not sound pleased by the idea, yet the guilt was settling in her voice, fighting her initial righteous anger. “She shot me. And destroyed some of my lovely equipment. But I started the fight…I shouldn’t have thrown those things at her…but where am I going to get another like that…it was from Rush valley…she ruined it.”

“I’m going to go talk to Hawkeye,” said Al, firmly, interrupting Winry’s grumbling. “You all stay here.”

“But-“

“Niisan, I’ll tell you if you can kill her. Please stay here until I come back.”

Ed sulked. “Fine.”

Winry sniffed and the blond at her feet slowly reached to touch her hand. Edward didn’t seem much more used than Roy to handling an upset girl, but he remained crouched there, holding Winry’s hand without a word. It seemed to be enough to help her calm down, enough to soothe her. Just a touch. That’s all it took.

Roy scowled and looked away. Sure, beat it in that he was socially inept and that even Edward could be nicer than him. Edward was violently paranoid but he cared about his few close friends. Roy thought he cared about a few people – he could kill to protect them - but hell if he’d ever comfort anybody who was crying. He was more likely to make jokes to brush it off. Feelings just weren’t his thing.

-

Hawkeye was at the door, still in her military garbs but for the blue top that she had removed. She had a white shirt instead. She walked to the couch and knelt in front of Winry, taking her hand and placing a wrench in it. “You forgot your wrench,” she said quietly, closing the young girl’s fingers on it. “I’m sorry about hurting you. I did not mean to.” It was strange, how the woman could hold her usual cool tone and show some softness at the same time. If you didn’t pay attention, Hawkeye didn’t sound like she meant it, but Roy noticed she did.

Winry didn’t quite meet her eyes. “No, it was my fault. I got angry.”

Hawkeye rose from the ground and sat on the couch instead, throwing an arm around the girl’s shoulders. Winry curled against her chest and the soldier woman pressed her lips against the blonde head for a second. It was the most affection Riza was able to display; a minute later the girls were sitting apart like nothing had happened. The situation had been resolved with mutual excuses and a brief affectionate contact. Although, as they made small talk – something about cleaning the mess their little fight had created – Roy could have sworn he saw the bond between them. Perhaps he was too used to seek out single woman and identify taken ones, but these two screamed ‘old couple’.

Desperate for something to do other than stand there and listen to Winry and Riza’s talk, Roy decided to go do the dishes. Yes, dishes were good. He wasn’t going to hang around and watch the girls have a domestic talk. It felt almost sickening to know their interaction was due to love. Roy knew how to be gallant or romantic for the girls, but it was never about love. It was just about getting them in his bed for a night and moving on. Why did these people insist on people all sentimental?

What was wrong with this day anyway? Everybody was clinging to their other half, so to speak - Ed and Al, Winry and Riza. Something twisted in Roy’s guts and he realized he was feeling homesick. How ridiculous was that? He didn’t really have a home, just a place he was crashing at until Fury’s boyfriend decided to get rid of them. He probably just missed his freedom, decided the man. Freedom to be in the streets at four in the morning if he felt like it, to pick fights with idiots, to work whenever he needed money and to quit when he was sick of it. Freedom to pick on Fury until his boyfriend tried to protect him, to wrestle with Hughes like they were just a pair of misbehaving children. Yeah, there was a lot he couldn’t do here.

On the bright side, he had no need to worry about a job or soldiers patrols, access to better food than he’d had in a while, a warm and comfortable place to sleep, somebody to drive nuts, still the possibility to flirt with danger and get into fights, and a friend to talk to. As a bonus, a complicated web of mysteries and alchemy books to read.

Was it equivalent though? What he’d lost and what he’d gained? Roy wasn’t so sure of it.

‘Look at you, trying to think like an alchemist. Hughes would laugh. Life doesn’t work like science, you know that.’

Roy poked his head out the kitchen after a while, to confirm visually that the ‘domestic scene’ was over. Hawkeye still sat at Winry’s side, but that was it. They were discussing something with the boys and Mustang was ready to bet they were talking about-

“So then Roy-“

-Him. Of course. They were talking about the whole ordeal, at the restaurant, when Envy had dropped by to taunt them. Roy was a little surprised that they did not mention last night’s incident, but it made sense they didn’t want to worry their friend too much, nor give her any reason to use her wrench.

“I believe you should discard him,” was saying Hawkeye. “He is a liability. You already are under pressure, it is not wise to try to fight on another front as well.”

“Riza,” protested Winry. “That wouldn’t be fair. Roy’s a good pet. He hasn’t done anything!”

“He’s got our name on his collar, we’ll figure out what to do with him, thanks.” Edward, of course.

“We can’t always protect you. You were just lucky the real murderer attacked when he did. Put the pet down. In the long run, it’s probably for the best. You know what they’d like to do to him.”

“Food for Gluttony, yeah, yeah. Everybody is potential food for Gluttony. That creep.”

Roy saw Al’s twitching to himself for some time before he exploded, “Please, would you PLEASE stop talking like he’s an animal? We’re not going to have him ‘put down’ because that’s MURDER. Let me spell it out. M-U-R-D-E-R. Maybe you guys are into that, but I’m not. So stop saying you’re going to kill my friend. Okay? Thanks.” Alphonse was on a roll. He needed to vent and he needed to do it now, arms crossed and eyes narrowed as he hissed, “What’s fucking wrong with all of you anyway? All that’s different is his goddamned HAIR COLOR. We could just dye it and nobody would realize he’s not really blond. It’s not like it never happened before! Remember Maria? Her parents dyed her hair since she was a baby to keep her safe. She worked with you for years, Hawkeye. You never noticed anything!”

Hawkeye’s face was hard. “True, but she was caught and killed, just like-“

“SHUT UP!”

That had been Edward. He’d jumped to his feet, shaking and was glaring true daggers, this close to actually transmuting one and attacking the woman. Alphonse pushed aside his own anger, rising to pull Edward away quickly.

Winry scowled at Hawkeye behind the boys. “Riza, that was uncalled for.”

Roy almost didn’t hear Riza’s low reply. “They need to understand before it’s too late.”

The boys had just stepped on the white tiles of the kitchen area when Mustang was mutely offering a glass of water. The man didn’t say anything, just leaned back against the counter, eyes closed and unresponsive.

Alphonse forced the glass into his brother’s hand. “Drink.”

Just like the water level in the glass, Edward’s fury diminished until there wasn’t a drop left. He was sulky and tired-looking now. “I’m fine.”

“You’re sure?”

“Yeah. I’m just sick and tired of everything. Hawkeye’s a bitch.”

“I’m sorry. It’s my fault for getting mad.”

“It’s not you, it’s her. She doesn’t have any business dragging this in the discussion. It’s just a low hit.” Edward waved a hand impatiently. “I’m calm. I’ll go dismiss them.”

Al made no move to follow his brother, just idly watching his automail hand curl and uncurl with metallic clicks.

Roy stopped pretending not to exist. “Winry’s parents let her date a soldier that old?”

“Hawkeye is younger than you by five years,” protested Al. “And anyway…Winry doesn’t have parents anymore. She’s been living with Hawkeye even since her grand-mother died, six months ago.”

“What happened? Were her parents soldiers as well?” He recalled Rose telling him about all the orphans.

“No, they were doctors. They were killed during a street fight that went bad in the low city.”

“It happens all the time,” nodded Roy. “Innocents who get caught in fights and are left dying on the sidewalk.” He paused, then admitted, “I killed doctors once.”

This made Alphonse’s eyes stretch at him. “Why?”

“A mistake.” Roy gave an ironic smile. “They were capturing everybody in the building for being squatters, although it had been left open and empty for years already. Hughes and I got there just in time to see them invest the place. We panicked because our friend was up there. We went in, killed everybody in our way, rescued the boy and got out of there,” he said lightly. Then, more seriously, “ The first time you have to fight and kill for your life is nothing very interesting. You’d rather avoid it.”

“Was it the first time you killed?”

“No…but the first on purpose.” The mongrel tried to think, to remember. “I must have been…fourteen or fifteen the first time.”

Alphonse lowered his gaze. “I’m fifteen and I never killed.”

Roy laughed an empty, joyless laugh, patting Al’s shoulder. “That’s good. Try and keep it that way. It’s not worth it.”

-

Winry left them with the chore of oiling their own automail - to be ready for when she would adjust them in a day or two - and that’s what the brothers did for the rest of the afternoon, helping each other to reach the hard spots. They stripped to start with their legs, which apparently were less complex than the arms. Oil was carefully rubbed everywhere, then wiped off with what used to be one of their black shirts. They reintegrated their pants and settled for the harder part, the arms. Coats and over shirts were shed, leaving only their black muscle shirts.

Roy watched Edward jam his hand under Al’s automail, right in the wires, without the younger boy even blinking. Roy recalled Alphonse had been nervous by him only touching the fake arm. He guessed it was because the grey-eyed blond had complete trust in his brother. It was also true the other way around; Edward didn’t flinch either when it was his turn to be delicately handled.

By the time they were done, oil had been spilled all over the kitchen’s floor. Roy shrugged and caught the mop. To Edward’s superior look, he answered, “Don’t move Shokun. Considering your size, you’d break your small neck if you fell.” Ed was about to reply something but the man cut him off, eying him seriously, “It’s true that without your shoes, you probably can’t fall far enough to truly hurt yourself.” It was too easy to let Edward growl and tried to attack him, only to slip on the oily ground and nearly knock himself out on the floor. Roy crouched down beside Ed, musing, “Ah, see. Nothing broken.”

“Niisan?”

“I hate you…so much…”

When that was all Edward said, closing his eyes with a groan, Alphonse began to worry, leaning over to touch his brother’s chest lightly. “Niisan? Are you alright?”

“I’m fine. I just split my skull. Nothing bad.”

“If you can sulk, yes you’re fine,” retorted Al. There was still a tinge of worry in his voice, which, Roy figured, was because Edward’s voice sounded too dazed to be properly sarcastic.

“The automail didn’t make the fall any easier,” observed Roy. “He might have a concussion.”

“Should I call Clara?”

“It’s a good idea. Just to check. Ask her what to do.”

“Said I’m fine,” mumbled Ed, faintly.

Mustang sighed and gathered the boy in his arms for the second time. He was careful not to slip on the floor, finding his way out of the kitchen and to the bed where he left Edward on his stomach with his oil-slick automail hanging off the edge, and turned back to the sound of his name.

“Roy, is he conscious? Bleeding? Coherent? Ask if he’s feeling sick.”

“Shokun?” asked Roy, shaking Edward lightly, “Do you feel like you’re going to vomit?”

“No. I’m fi-ne.”

“Slurred, sleepy speech, near unconsciousness,” reported Roy aloud. “But coherent, even irritated. Possibly a mild concussion.” He reached to run a hand in Edward’s hair, slowly, looking for any injury or blood. “I don’t find anything. He looks well.”

Alphonse repeated Roy’s words to Clara and thanked her shortly after, putting down the receiver. “Alright, she agrees with you. He just needs a few moments to recuperate. We’ll just keep an eye on him for the next few hours.”

“Good.” Roy realized Al was watching him because he hadn’t taken his hand out of Edward’s hair. Not troubling himself, the mongrel continued, brushing the braid away with his fingers. He retrieved the tie and left it on the shelf with the books. He checked that Edward was truly asleep before turning to Alphonse.

“Can you hand me the bottle on the third shelf?” asked Al, kneeling to look at Ed’s automail. “I noticed Niisan is bleeding a little along his port. I need to take care of that.”

Roy found and picked up the white container, curiously reading the label. “Apply with clean, dry fingers, massage lightly the irritated spot until all bleeding stops.” The man glanced at Al critically. “You’re covered in oil. And so is the kitchen.” He looked down at the bottle, then at Edward. “I can do this. You go wash.” Alphonse hesitated so Roy quirked an eyebrow down at him. “What, you expect me to strangle your brother while you’re not looking?”

“No! It’s just…”

“You worry too much.”

“I thought you said I don’t worry enough.”

“You worry about the wrong things, and people,” amended Roy.

“How do I know what to worry about then?”

“Instincts,” replied Roy.

“Unlike you, I’m domesticated.”

“Then, use that.” Mustang patted his chest where he heart was. It was clear enough.

Al ran a hand in his short hair, reflecting on this, and nodded an agreement. He stood, rubbing at his own automail port, and wandered away. Alphonse came back briefly to hand Mustang an old towel to wipe off all the extra oil on the automail, which Roy did dutifully, knowing the younger Elric couldn’t help but keep an eye on him.

Strange, the mongrel could have sworn Alphonse trusted him more than that by now. Although… What was it that Al had tried to explain to him again? That Edward was more important to him than his own life? Mn. Then, yes, his indecision might be justified, considering the fact Edward and Roy were…at odds, to put it lightly. But, right now, the mongrel was completely bent on behaving. Enough fighting for today.

Once the automail was clean, Roy decided the shirt had to come off as well. He rolled it up easily, tugging it over Edward’s limp arms and head. He tossed towel and shirt on the floor and knelt at the beside, resting Ed’s automail on his shoulder to have a better view of the raw patch of skin; it ran from behind the shoulder to under it and a few drops of blood oozed out. Coating his fingers with the bottle’s creamy substance, Roy began to massage it along the automail port, carefully. Just like the instructions said, he massaged until the cream penetrated the skin and the bleeding stopped entirely, making small circles with his fingertips.

It took Roy a good quarter of an hour to finish, during which his attention kept shifting between what he was doing and the sleeping face oriented to him. There were no masks when one slept, and under Ed’s mask, was exhaustion and misery. Roy had seen similar expressions on the faces of young prostitutes; the expression that said they felt trapped and powerless to direct their destiny, that they always feared the moment a bad man would come along and harm them, taking away what little they may have and leaving them broken.

What the hell had made Edward so aggressive? What kind of childhood would turn a boy into such a vicious and susceptible teenager? And what kind of teenage life was this for a pair of young brothers? Working and living like hermits, barely paying attention to the world and hoping the world would forget about them.

It was unfair, but it was like that everywhere it seemed. The way this country was ruled was foul, decided Roy. If he’d been in charge, he would know how to straighten things out. He’d been everywhere now. He had seen the slums, the decent parts of the city, and now he was among the leaders. Such leaders they were too, just as trapped as anybody else. Who was the fuhrer? What the hell did he do all day? Did he even care about what happened in his country, his city, his stronghold? Why the hell did he keep such creatures as the sins around?

It didn’t matter anyway. It was bigger than Roy.

Roy reached up and brushed Edward’s hair further on the left to make sure it did not stick in the remains of the cream he was applying. It was really nice and soft hair, noted Roy. When it was braided, it was hanging in the middle of Ed’s back, but when it was free, it made a golden curtain that nearly reached his hips. Beautiful.

Roy heard Al come by the odd sound his bare automail foot made on the ground. “I’m done. How is he?”

Roy stood up and reached to place the lotion back where it belonged. “It’s fine. It isn’t bleeding anymore. He seems to be sleeping normally. He looks exhausted.”

“Yeah…the stress does that to him sometimes.” Alphonse had only bothered to get into black pants, forgetting the rest. It was another difference between the boys; Edward liked to keep himself fully clothed to camouflage his automail limbs but -, although he followed his elder’s lead - Al did not look troubled by his own shiny body parts.

The younger Elric settled on the bed and caught Edward’s right hand, braiding their metal fingers together. He watched the automails, deep in thoughts Roy couldn’t read. At some point the boy raised the mechanical limbs to press the back of Ed’s fake hand to his cheek, just holding it there dreamily.

“I’m sorry,” Roy said.

“You feel guilty because he fell?” Al smiled a little, with irony. “You two are like kids, always fighting, then somebody gets hurt and the other regrets it. But you’ll start again anyway.”

“Neither of us feels guilty,” immediately snorted Roy, vaguely insulted.

“Sure you are.” Al had the kind of expression one may have when they are making fun of somebody else. Only, Roy didn’t catch the joke at all. He didn’t like that but decided to just ignore it. It made Al smile larger and Roy ignored that too.

Edward grumbled something; immediately Al forgot about Roy, reaching to rub Ed’s right shoulder with his free hand. “Niisan? Are you feeling okay?”

“Headache.”

“Not surprising. Want some water? Juice?”

“No…I’m good just here.”

When Ed closed back his metal fingers on Al’s, there was a light protest of metal. Alphonse planted a kiss on the back of Ed’s automail hand and smiled at his older brother. He lowered their hands without letting go and they began to make small talk, relaxed and carefree for the time being.

“Winry would be more worried about my automail than my head.”

“That’s if she listened long enough to get to that part. She’d mostly be interested in the part where we finally oiled them for her.”

“Exactly.”

Neither boys noticed Roy retreating to the kitchen, his elected domain. A cold, empty domain. The man rubbed at his chest as he glanced outside the window, unsure why there was such an ache there.


--

It was just before daybreak. Roy wasn’t sleeping anymore, very slowly waking his brain and getting in touch with his body parts. He quirked an eyebrow as the sound repeated itself.

A dog? What were the chances of a dog wandering in the garden the day after a cat did? There just weren’t any animals around here normally, and Gluttony was surely to blame for that. Roy fully expected Alphonse to react, and he was right.

“Is that a dog?”

“Seems like it.”

“If he doesn’t quiet up, he’s going to get caught.” Alphonse left the bed but as he leaned on the window, Roy’s hand landed on his shoulder.

“Your brother told you not to wander at night,” Roy reminded the blond.

“But I have to hurry before they get there!”

“Wake your brother if you want to go.”

“It’ll take forever!”

Roy sighed. There was just no reasoning with those puppy eyes. “Open up then. But you aren’t setting a foot outside. I’ll go.”

“But-“

“Quiet,” interrupted Mustang. “ There’s about nine chances on ten that’s a trap for you. I’m not letting you put both of us in danger. I’ll go see what’s going on.”

Alphonse chewed on his lower lip a second. But when the dog barked a third time, he shuddered and nodded. He pushed and the window moved with a creak. When it was just open enough for Roy to squeeze through, the latter gestured for Al to stop. He climbed in the way, pausing to give the blond some instructions. “No use exposing yourself more than necessary. Close it back after me and go sit back in bed. Don’t stay near the window. Got it?”

“…do you really think-?”

“I’m taking precautions,” answered Roy. He knew he was using a hard tone, one that Al had never heard from him, but in this kind of situation, he did not kid around. Last time’s had scared him enough. Like an after-thought, he added, “If I don’t come back, don’t bother coming after me. Clear?”

“That’s ju-“

“No. Stay or I’m not even going and too bad for the animal, if it’s one. If I don’t come back, it was a trap. So I don’t want to see you around there. Got me?”

Roy had been told Alphonse always won the fights around here. It showed Al did not know how to step down; it was with great irritation in his voice that he agreed. “Fine! Go!”

Roy softened, offering a smile before he jumped. He knew Alphonse was watching him behind the now-closed window, but he was sure the boy would do as told and back up as soon as he was out of view, which he hurried to do.

Mustang had spent countless nights outside, in the dangerous streets of the lower city where a few hundreds of mongrels fought to survive. He had never been afraid of the dark. But this time, he couldn’t help but feel on edge. Every shadow looked like Envy or Lust to him. It was a surprising thing, but he thought he was afraid. Then why the hell was he out here? He’d told Al he figured it was a trap, so why did he go anyway?

‘Because I’m a fool,’ he told himself.

Roy crept on, heading in the general direction of the dog’s barks. He wondered if there would be anything to find, if there was anything to save. It did sound like a real dog, but it could be bait, a puppy tied in a corner with Envy waiting five paces away.

It was quiet, because all nights are like that. Although, it was the first time it bothered the mongrel so much. His skin prickled with a bad feeling and his head felt too light as he tried to concentrate on the tiniest things, the sounds and the movements that swarmed at the limit of his senses.

When the dog barked again, the sound was so close, so loud, that Roy literally jumped back. He massaged his chest with his hand, feeling like his heart was pounding loud enough to betray his position to anyone within a yard.

‘You’re being ridiculous. You’ve never been this afraid. Well, except that time. And that time…okay, not since you turned eighteen anyway. Get a grip. What are you scared of? That Gluttony will be there, munching on the dog, and that you’ll be next?’

Roy grimaced. Yeah, that was about what he feared. Stupid really, he’d never seen that Gluttony. Oh well. He’d see in just a few seconds if he should have listened to his instincts and hidden under the bed instead of coming out here.

Finally, the man found the origin of the whining. Yes, it was a real flesh and bones puppy. Black and white and not tied anywhere, not watched by any palm-haired freak either. He was just stuck under a root. He probably had tried to sneak under it and gotten stuck there.

“Silly dog, you gave me a fright,” muttered Roy, crouching down. It was funny, this little puppy looked just like Fury’s dog. When the dog was free, Mustang noticed it had a collar and a piece of paper curled around it. The man took it, with some difficulties as the puppy wouldn’t stop trying to lick his face as if he knew him, and was shocked for a few seconds. He stared at the dog.

“Black Hayate? How in the world did you find me?” The puppy only licked his hand. Roy chuckled and read the message. That was Hughes’ handwriting, he could have recognized it anywhere. Mainly because Hughes had been the one to teach him how to write, which meant he had spent hours and hours trying to copy the letters Maes wrote down on paper for him.

Roy’s happiness only lasted a few moments. A frown settled on his face. Hughes wanted to rescue him? Crazy. Too dangerous. Damn, he didn’t have a pen. With an unhappy wince, he had to settle with licking his finger and tracing letters of dirt on the paper. Instead of giving Hughes the directions and tips he was asking for, he simply wrote, ‘Dangerous. NM. Elrics nice. BBL.’ There. It was too dangerous, Hughes should forget about it because anyway he was doing good with the ‘nice’ Elrics (hey, it was just half a lie) and he was going to be back home later anyway.

Roy snapped his head to the right, narrowing his eyes. He didn’t see anything, but he just knew there was trouble about. He had to move. Now. This was a time where Roy knew better than to argue with his instincts. He held the puppy to his chest, told him to be quiet, and ran. He wasn’t entirely sure how the dog had gotten in here, but the dirt maculating his fur suggested he had crawled in a hole, probably under the wall.

There were no signs of pursuit yet when Mustang reached the wall, heart dancing in his chest. He looked around and saw no holes. He let the puppy down, spoke to it lowly and urgently. “Come on Hayate, find the hole. Find the place you came in by. Hurry!” The puppy only wagged its tail at him. Roy breathed deeply and tried again. “Hayate, go see Fury. Find Fury!” This time, the young dog understood. It cocked its ears right and left, finally heading to the right. Roy felt nervous going that way, but he wanted to see the animal leave as soon as possible.

The dark man jogged along the wall for a full minute, following the dog and keeping watch on the trees and vegetation around. Still nothing in view, but still feeling bad.

The dog suddenly disappeared. Roy nearly smacked his face in the ground when he tried to freeze on the spot. Hayate was sitting in a well hidden hole, looking pleased with himself.

“Good dog,” whispered Roy, not because he was trying to speak low, but because he was out of breathe. The stress was getting to him. “Now go, go. Find Fury, okay? Good dog.” He watched the puppy disappear and hurried to close the hole as best as he could behind him. It was silly, it wasn’t like if anybody could squeeze through to follow Hayate, but he did it anyway. Then he brushed the dirt off his hands and knees before stalking away. He really wanted to go back inside. At least there he didn’t feel so exposed and he had allies, even if one wasn’t so by choice. Roy wished he knew alchemy and had a nice automail arm too. He would be feeling much better right then if he’d had a blade instead of his bare fist to defend himself.

“Let me guess….just ‘taking a walk’?”