The Limits of Control: a BDSM love story, Chapter 9
Title: The Limits of Control: A BDSM love story
Chapter: 9/10?
Word Count: About 68,000
Characters: Roy Mustang, Edward Elric, Alphonse Elric, Winry Rockbell
Rating: M. Mature. Explicit. NC-17. Porn.
Warnings: Serious kinkiness. Pain play, whipping, dominance/submission, bondage. Oh, and a profusion of cursing, though that's going to be the least of your worries!
Summary: Just because you want something doesn't mean it's easy to let yourself have it. Relationships are hard enough even when they're totally normal - but Roy and Ed seem determined to make theirs as not-normal as it can get.
BDSM porn with a plot. Or plot with overwhelming amounts of porn. Pick one.
Notes: A totally unofficial (and much longer) sequel to Cryogenia's wonderful "Ties that Bind." If you haven't read it, go read it here!
This Chapter: Roy and Ed try to figure things out with everyone but each other, and everyone has conversations they don't want to have.
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
*
Roy stood there in silence for a moment, telephone receiver to his ear and mind still reeling.
Alphonse, he thought, distantly, as he gained control of himself again. I have to talk to Alphonse. Al will know what to do.
His hand shot out and spun the phone dial - six numbers to connect with the Elric home.
“Hello?” said a voice on the other end. “This is Alphonse Elric.”
“Al, I’m glad you’re there. It’s Roy.”
“Oh my god, General, I’m so glad you called. I kept trying to get through to you but the line was busy. Were you talking to my brother?”
“I was.”
“What did he say?”
“Honestly, not much, except that he doesn’t want to see or speak to me ever again.” Roy kept his voice determinedly, forcibly calm.
Alphonse sighed, long and loud.
“That’s what I was afraid of.” A pause. “Can you come over? We need to talk.”
*
It’s a damn good thing that at least one of the Elric brothers is reasonable, Roy thought as he stepped out of the motor pool car, giving a quick thanks to the driver before opening their little gate and striding through to the front door. A damn good thing, yes, because this situation needed sorting, and hell if Roy was going to get any help from Edward in that area.
Alphonse jerked the door open before the older man even had a chance to knock on it. He looked tired, and bedraggled, and maybe a little bit frantic.
“Thank god you’ve made it. Please come in,” he said, and Roy stepped into the entry way. The place smelled sharp and woody, like cedar. He paused. “I - shall I make you some tea?” Al asked, shakily, still the generous host despite everything, or maybe it was just a habit. Routine could be so comforting, sometimes.
“Thank you, I could use a cup,” he said, not so much because he needed one but because Al looked like he needed to make one.
Al shut the door behind them and walked over to the kitchen. Roy followed, hands in his pockets, and watched the younger man rustle through his cabinets for the appropriate materials. One spoonful of leaves in the teapot, then the kettle went on the stove. Roy said nothing, and an awkward silence hung between them for a moment. Al pushed himself up to sit on the counter, next to the stove, his legs dangling off the side.
“Brother didn’t happen to tell you where he was or where he was going, did he?” Alphonse asked as soon as he was settled, with a look that could almost be pleading. He wanted the reassurance of authority, Roy guessed. As much as the older man would have loved to play that role, right at that moment he didn’t even have enough assurance for himself, much less any to spare for someone else. Roy pulled out a wooden chair from the kitchen table and sat down.
“I’m afraid not,” he said, with a shake of his head. “I would very much have liked him to. Something seemed to be very wrong, only he wouldn’t tell me what it was.” He kept his face and voice calm. He just had to find out what had happened, then fix it. This wasn’t a fundamental issue with their relationship. It was just a problem. Roy was good at fixing problems.
“Well,” Alphonse said, lacing his fingers together on his lap, “I can see why he didn’t say anything. But, regardless, you need to know. You two are important to each other, even if neither of you will say so.”
Roy didn’t reply.
“Alright. So. Ed went back to Risembool to get his arm fixed a few days ago. You knew this. I’m still mad at you about the arm thing, by the way,” the man said, narrowing his eyes. “But that’s neither here nor there right now. In any case, he was talking to Winry about his arm and about things in general, and Brother can really be extraordinarily bad at keeping secrets sometimes. He’s very honest.”
Roy nodded. “Unsubtle” might have been the word he would have chosen, but it all came out to the same thing.
“What I’m trying to say, General, is that Winry found out about brother’s - um - activities. I think there were marks on him somewhere. She was… she was very upset,” said Al, looking very upset himself.
Had he left marks on Ed’s back after their play in the warehouse? He searched back through his memories: yes, he had, he recalled. There had just been a bit of blood, maybe one cut, maybe two, but that was enough. Dammit - in hindsight, as always, everything became so very clear. He never should have used that whip that Ed transmuted. Rubber was so sharp, so painful, so likely to cut. He just hadn't minded much at the time, and neither had Edward.
He remembered thin, red lines across the man’s back: some would scab over, others would probably bruise. At the time, it had been a beautiful thing. Not everyone appreciated the sight of red welts over packed muscle, or the blissful expression on Edward's face as he had gotten them.
Well, anyone at all would appreciate the expression itself, and would appreciate the noises he had made as he touched himself there on the warehouse floor. Roy was lucky as all hell that he was the only one who had ever gotten to experience either.
“I see,” Roy said, tearing his mind away from the image. “Yes, this can look very bad if you don’t know what’s happening.”
“Even if you do know what it is, it can be hard to understand. Sometimes I wonder…” Al shook his head and cut himself off. “Anyway. Brother was having enough of a problem not feeling like a messed-up freak even before anyone else was judging him for it. He’s really very good at judging himself without any help.”
Roy nodded and leaned forward in his chair, resting his elbows on his knees. The pale whistle of the kettle interrupted their conversation. Alphonse hopped down and busied himself pouring the water into the pot, then collected teacups and saucers and the sugar pot as the drink steeped. Roy noted with some distant amusement that the dainty cups had floral patterns on them - definitely not Edward’s doing.
“So, basically,” Roy said, watching the other man pour tea through the strainer and into each cup, “Edward is just getting cold feet,” he said, brilliantly relieved. “So all I need to do is find him and talk to him. He’ll come around.”
Alphonse’s face tightened, and he paused in his activities. Roy’s stomach dropped into his feet at the look.
“Well,” said Al, and the way he said it made the word cut deep. He picked up the teacups and saucers and carried them over to the table, then returned within seconds with the sugar pot. “That’s not all of it. Winry found out that Brother’s been doing this with you. It's, um - it's your and her history together. That's why she was so upset.”
A sick rush hit Roy then, a memory - blood on the floor, blood on two bodies - the doctors had pleaded, they had looked scared, but everyone looked at you with terror when you had them cornered, and he hadn't had the sense or the guts to see what he was doing until it was too late. A million thoughts whirled through Roy Mustang’s mind.
“I see,” he said, and spooned some sugar into his tea.
“Then I’m sure you understand the situation,” Al said, his look searching. Roy felt the creases at the corners of his eyes, the tightness of his lips, felt suddenly very old, older than he had any right to be. The younger man exhaled, long and slow, and slumped down a little, like he had deflated. “Brother’s not okay. I’m sure he feels like a horrible person, and probably a million other things besides. He gets all lost in his head sometimes. I think he's lost now. He’s prone to doing really stupid things when he gets like this. It’s scaring me. I don’t know what he’s going to do.” He held his cup between his hands, not even drinking it.
Roy didn’t know what Alphonse wanted him to say. He didn’t know what he ought to say. Should he give meaningless assurances, say that Edward would be fine, that the man could handle himself? His ability to do that depended entirely on how much he wanted to.
He knew that Edward got trapped up in the past, in memories of his worst moments - the two of them were alike in that way. He had watched Edward as a boy, seen him scared and angry and guilty after a million little defeats that never held him back but certainly tried, hit him as hard as they could right where it hurt.
They had never talked about any of it. Edward clammed up, violently sometimes, whenever anything about his past came up. He didn’t let anybody into that head of his - nobody except Alphonse.
Suddenly, inexplicably, Roy realized that he wanted to be allowed in there too. He didn’t want to lose Edward before he had the chance to learn about him. It was selfish of him, of course - he would be hurting the Rockbell girl, who didn’t deserve to be hurt any more than she already had been. He would, no way around it. But in those moments when Edward gave one of his genuine, brilliant smiles, when he was utterly present in whatever moment took him by surprise, when Roy himself had caused one of those looks of delight, the world seemed just a little bit brighter.
It wasn't all selfish, though, because he knew - at least, thought - that he made Edward happy, too.
“I know your friend has every right to hate me,” Roy began, “and that Ed probably made the right choice in leaving me.” Alphonse looked down at the floor, and his shoulders sagged. “I also know that I’m not ready to give him up yet. I’m sorry,” he said, not knowing precisely which of his many offenses he was apologizing for.
Al gave him a smile, and put his cup back on its saucer.
“I know,” he said, and Roy was sure he did. “If I thought that this was all so meaningless to you that you’d be willing to give up now, I never would have called you over.”
Roy took the first sip of his tea. The liquid was red-gold, and warmed his throat as it went down.
“I just want to see brother happy. He has trouble letting himself just be. There always has to be something making life complicated.”
Roy nodded.
“And do you think,” Roy said, testing each word before he spoke, “that if he would stay, then I could make Ed happy? Our relationship is never going to be uncomplicated. I guess what I mean is, you think that I’ll be worth the trouble?”
Alphonse gave him a sharp look - maybe threatening, maybe just judging, Roy couldn’t tell. He sipped his tea again.
“I think that you had better make him happy. He deserves some peace in his life, after everything he’s been through.” Al cocked his head to the side, watching the older man, and his voice became softer. “And I think that maybe, you do too.”
A silence. Roy was very glad for the tea.
“And what about Miss Rockbell?” he finally asked. Alphonse sighed, and shrugged.
“I would love to help you more, but I’m afraid that all I can really do is convince her to talk to you. After that, you’re on your own.”
“That’s all I would ask of you,” Roy said, ignoring the dread, and the memories.
The younger man took a long drink from his cup.
“But believe me,” he began, hard, "when I say that if I ever hear about anything like you melting my brother’s arm again, then she and I will be lining up to hurt you, and not in a fun way. Am I perfectly clear?”
“Perfectly,” Roy said, watching the other man. “In fact, I’ll hold you to that.”
“Good,” Al said, and stood up. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I have a phone call to make.”
*
It took nearly an hour’s worth of telephone conversation and three days of travel for Winry to make it to Central. Al called General Mustang immediately before going to meet her at the train station. The man would need to be on call, ready to come over at a moment’s notice if she agreed to talk to him. If not, Al would take her out to a nice dinner, and she could sleep on it, and they would try again tomorrow.
Actually, he decided, he would take her out for a nice dinner, however things went. He had just received his first ever paycheck, and wasn’t there some tradition about doing something special with that? She would need something to fall back on. Any way the coin fell, this was probably going to be a stressful day for her.
He met her with a smile at the train station, and returned her hug in kind.
“Hey Winry,” he said as she pulled away. “How was your trip?”
“Ugh, long,” she said, and gave Al a look of delight as he stooped to pick up her luggage from where it sat beside her. “Oh, thank you, you're so considerate. Even though three days is a lot shorter than it used to be, it’s still too long to be cooped up on a train. I need a shower something awful.” She was probably right: her hat seemed to have left a semi-permanent impression on her hair, flattening her bangs to her face and leaving a heavy dent in the rest of it. Al laughed.
“Yeah, three days of trains will do that to you, especially since you took the sleeper cars, didn’t you?” he asked, then started walking towards the station exit, suitcase in one hand, the other arm around Winry’s shoulder.
“Only last night, but it's so hard to go to sleep on uncomfortable beds when you're being shaken around like that! Remind me not to do that again, I’d rather ride a horse if it meant I got to stop for the night,” she moaned, though the last time she had ridden a horse she had fallen straight off the side and Ed had made fun of her for the rest of the day.
Al laughed.
“No you wouldn’t. You’d miss all the gears and wheels and engines and stuff.”
“Very true,” she said, as they stepped out onto the front stairs and into the sunshine. Cars whirred by next to a bustling pedestrian crowd on the sidewalk. “It's not so bad. Actually, on my first day they let me go up to the engine, and I got to see some of the new technology they’re using to make the trains so much faster! You have to see it to believe it, it’s so amazing,” she said, eyes turning starry and distant.
And then, the topic of conversation was machinery, and Al barely needed to respond at all after that. He just smiled and nodded and occasionally interjected a word of interest or understanding as they passed across the pavement, still wet from the day’s earlier rain, and started towards the house.
The walk and Winry’s enthusiastic monologue lasted for more than half an hour, but if it had lasted an hour or two, truthfully, Al wouldn’t have minded. She just got so excited when she talked about machines, and seeing her happy made him happy.
Eventually, they reached the little gate that marked the entrance to his front yard.
“And this is it,” Al announced when there was a lull in her monologue. “This is the place we’re calling home for the moment.”
As he presented it to her, he looked at it again with fresh eyes, glancing over the elaborate façade and the gargoyles that decorated every possible corner, the stained glass window on the east side. At first, he had been a bit embarrassed about his brother’s Gothic additions to their new abode, but now they gave him a strange swell of pride. Nobody else’s house had skulls on the balcony railings. He was glad he had stopped his brother short of turning them a shiny gold, though. That would have just been in bad taste.
He hadn’t been able to talk Ed out of the little moat that surrounded their little lot, but the garden beyond it belonged completely to Al. He would trust his brother with his life, but never with his rosebushes.
“It definitely looks like you two,” Winry said with a little laugh as Al opened the gate and led her across the short bridge that spanned the moat. “Ed went a little crazy, huh?” she said. Even though she was smiling, Al could see her face tighten.
“Yeah, he sure doesn’t do anything halfway,” he said, and pulled his key from his pocket. He unlocked the door and opened it, letting Winry in.
“Have you heard from him, at all?” she asked as she passed by him into the living room.
“Once, since I called you. He says he’s fine. He wouldn’t tell me where he is, though.” He set the suitcase down in the living room by the fireplace. “Have you eaten? I can make you something if you want.”
“No, that’s fine,” she said, taking a seat on the couch. She looked around, pressing her knees together awkwardly, the rest of her body just as tense. “This is a really nice place,” she told him. She didn't seem to mind the fact that there were books stacked on the floor, or that a collection of coffee mugs had reproduced and started families on the side tables.
“It is, isn’t it? I’ve gotten really fond of it. We made a lot of the furniture ourselves, too.”
A silence cut the air between them. Winry sat on the couch, expectant, and Al stood there on the far edge of the rug, the quiet ringing in his ears.
“I guess we should talk about what I brought you here to discuss, then, huh?” he said, finally moving forward to take his own seat.
“I guess so.”
“Alright then, I’ll get right down to it. Brother told me the basics about what happened between you two. I didn’t get much in the way of details out of him, though, so maybe I could hear your end?”
“Yeah,” she said, then paused. “Well, he came into my workshop with his arm all busted up, like he always does. I guess you knew about that?”
Al nodded.
“It was burned pretty badly. There were scorch marks all over, and he couldn’t move it properly. The wires were melted all over the inside of the case, Al,” she said.
He frowned. He hadn’t ever actually seen his brother’s arm. He never liked hearing about Ed getting injured - but at the same time, he knew that his brother had had far worse injuries than that in the past.
“And then he told me that Roy Mustang had done that to him, and I got - I got scared, Al. I mean, he said they were sparring, but sparring shouldn’t be dangerous, should it? I was scared, and still a little mad from when Ed told me he had busted his automail again, and then I’m really mad at the general for what he did to Ed. And then I’m working on his arm and I see these marks on his back.” She paused, voice catching, and all that Alphonse could do was reach out and put a hand on her knee, just for the physical reassurance.
“He's got all these bruises and scabs and red welts, and stuff.” She looked down at the floor, her words wavering in the thick air. “I ask him if General Mustang gave him those, too. And Al, he doesn’t answer me,” she said, looking so very hurt and bewildered. “I’m scared for him, Al. I don’t know what’s happening, except that that man is doing something horrible to him, and I - hasn’t he hurt enough people already?” she asked, and finally let herself cry, big wet tears that rolled down her face in shining lines.
Al hurt for her, and all he could do was squeeze her knee.
“Winry,” he began, picking each word carefully, “I know that there’s more at hand here than just this, but I can tell you one thing: it’s not what you think it is. I know how it looks, but I promise it’s not that.”
“Isn’t it?” she asked, her voice rising in pitch. “Well that’s good to hear, because I don’t even know what I think it is. Did you know about all of this?” she asked, and there was accusation in her voice.
“Most of it. I can only help with one part of this issue, but I’ll do my best to explain.” A pause, thinking. “Winry, the General and Brother… well, they’ve been getting pretty close recently.”
His childhood friend stared at him, uncomprehending. The tear-tracks on her face shone.
“Some things happened, and even though they were both really stupid about it for a while, they’re in a relationship now.”
The world around them stilled, and a silent dread suffused the space between them.
“They’re… what?” she asked, finally.
“They’re in a relationship, committed and everything. Brother really likes General Mustang. I think the General really likes him too.”
A look of horror spread across her face.
“A relationship? Ed and General Mustang? You mean… romantic?” She took in a shaky breath. “Are you sure?”
“One hundred percent. I’m sorry to have to tell you this, Winry. I guess Ed didn’t say anything because he didn’t want to hurt you any more than he already had.”
The look on he face hurt him, and he moved over to the couch to put his arm around her. She sat, stiffly, head hung forward.
“I don’t even know where to start,” she said. Al let his arm hang loosely around her waist. “I just don’t understand why Ed would do something like that, knowing everything.”
Al nodded, and held her closer.
“If they’re together, then why would Mustang do those things to him? Why would Ed let him? I never thought Ed would be the kind of person to get into an abusive relationship.” She turned her eyes to him. “But sometimes I know he blames himself for everything that's ever happened to anyone, and doesn't always think very well of himself, and maybe he thinks that a murderer who beats him is the best that he’s ever going to get. Only it’s not, he’s brilliant, he could have anyone he wanted. Al, why would you let something like this happen? I thought you two were supposed to take care of each other.” Her body began to shake beside him.
“I know what it looks like. It’s not abusive, though. If I thought there were anything wrong with it, I would have stopped it by now. It’s consensual. The two of them…” Al swallowed, putty under Winry's wide-eyed look. “It’s hard to explain. The best that I understand it is that it’s a kind of, uh, role-play, um, in - in bed,” he said, knowing that his face had probably flushed a deep red. He turned his eyes to his knees, but soldiered on, for his brother's sake. “There are lots of people who do it. One person plays the role of a dominant, and the other the submissive. This is something that they both enjoy, something they do to make themselves happy and to make the other person happy, too. Sometimes they do things that will make the submissive person feel pain, but it’s always because the person enjoys it. Either party can always stop it, if they want to.”
Another silence.
“That’s… that’s fucked up,” she whispered, and when he looked back at her, her eyes had closed. “I never thought that Ed would ever want to be submissive to anybody.”
“Believe me, Ed isn't acting any differently at all, as far as I can see. And it’s a little weird, sure, but I don’t think it’s messed up. Lots of people like it.”
“Nobody I’ve ever heard of.”
“That makes sense. I think that the people who do like it tend to keep quiet about it, because most people who don’t like it think just what you're saying - that it’s wrong, or disturbing, you know. They're scared of being judged for it. But, some people just enjoy pain, and some people enjoy not having to worry about doing anything, not having to make any decisions for an hour or two. Other people enjoy having control.” He paused. “I thought it was really weird at first, too. But then… but then Brother liked it, and he seemed really happy. I mean it, Winry. I think this was something he needed, he just didn’t know it until the General came along.”
Winry leaned in to his side, and Al wrapped his other arm around her. When she spoke, her words were muffled against his shirt.
“I still think there’s something wrong with both of them.”
“Maybe,” he said, and stroked her hair. “But how would I know, and who am I to judge? Maybe I'm the weird one and they're perfectly normal. And before all of this started, I was actually really worried about Brother. This sort of play seems weird, but trust me when I say that it's way better for him than the stuff he was doing before.”
She didn’t ask what he meant. Maybe she had gotten too many answers that afternoon already, and didn't want any more..
“Mm,” she said, by way of reply. Then, “It makes me sick that General Mustang would want to keep hurting people, after everything he’s done. And Edward, why would he… Mustang murdered my parents. They were like an aunt and uncle to you both,” she said, softly. Al swallowed nothing, throat dry.
“I can’t answer that. I would love to, but even if I knew, it wouldn't be my place to share. But I will say this one thing,” he added, carefully, meaningfully. “I think that sometimes you really can’t help who you fall for.”
Winry fisted a hand in his shirt and said, wavering:
“And I guess, this time, the person he fell for wasn’t me, was it?”
Al hugged her tighter, and tried to keep his own thoughts under control. He had always suspected, but had hoped anyway… In any case, this wasn’t the time for that.
“No, not this time,” he said, stroking her hair with one hand as the other arm held her tightly to his chest.
“Does Edward just… like men?” she asked, and even though Al knew she might feel better if he said yes, he couldn’t lie to her.
“Maybe,” he said, as a compromise. “I honestly don’t know. I never asked. Really, though, I think he just likes the General.”
“This is a lot to take in,” she said after a moment. “I’m just so confused, Al.”
“And hurt, I know. You have every right to be. I know that Brother felt awful after he talked to you. He couldn’t believe he had hurt you so badly, without even thinking about it.”
“I didn’t mean to make him feel awful.”
“Of course not, I’m not trying to blame you. I don’t think there’s any blame to be given.”
“I can still blame Mustang,” she said, voice steely. “He dragged Edward into all of this.”
“I think that you should talk to the General. Maybe you’ll feel differently.”
Alphonse could actually feel her pulse quicken. She leaned away from him, slowly, and looked him in the eyes.
“I don’t ever want to see that man again.” Al winced. Of course she wouldn’t. But still.
“For Ed’s sake, Winry… I’m asking you to give it a try. Brother is upset, and wandering all around the country by himself, and I really worry about him when he gets like this. I think that you talking to General Mustang might help.” He sighed. “I just want everybody to be happy. I want Brother to come home again.”
“So do I, Al,” she said.
“I’ve asked him to come back, lots. He won’t. But I think he might if you told him that the two of you needed to talk. He might come back if he thought you forgave him. But I don't think you'll be able to come to terms with all of this unless you talk to General Mustang.”
“Forgive?” asked Winry, brow furrowed. “I don’t need to forgive Ed for anything.” A pause. She set her jaw. “If you think it’ll help, I’ll talk to that man.”
Al hugged her, and stroked her hair.
*
Alphonse had given Roy and Winry the whole bottom floor of his house as a blast zone, but no amount of space could make the air between them less tense. She had chosen to meet in the library.
Roy sat at the desk, she on the couch. They watched each other.
“Hello, Ms. Rockbell,” he said, folding his hands on the table.
She looked just like her parents. He had noticed before, of course, but right in that moment the fact was more than just incidental. It clawed at him. He would never be able to forget it.
“Hi,” she said. The silence thickened.
“I understand that you had some things you wanted to discuss with me?”
“Of course I do,” she said. She was very pretty, with blonde hair and big eyes and well-muscled arms. She seemed so young, though. Was she really Edward’s age? “A lot of really weird stuff has been happening, and it always comes back to you.”
Did it? He supposed that, for her, it did.
“I hate you, you know that?” she said, and though she said it without any kind of force, it still set his stomach on edge. A chill struck him deep, at his core. Roy nodded.
“You have every right to,” he replied, his voice rough. He could do this. He deserved to hear anything she had to say.
“Damn right I do.” Pause. She locked him in that blue-eyed stare. Her voice finally wavered. “I thought… I could forget. I thought I could respect you. And then my oldest friend walks into my house all mangled and beat up and it’s your doing, and how am I supposed to forgive you?”
The words that came to his mouth were perhaps both the easiest and the hardest that he had ever had to speak.
“I’m not asking for your forgiveness,” he said, mouth dry. He laced his fingers together. “I’m not asking for your forgiveness for anything. I’m only asking for your understanding, in this specific situation. One of Edward's injuries was an accident, and I feel terrible about it. The other thing…” Roy took a breath, and swallowed hard. “It’s a different matter altogether. Ms. Rockbell, I care very much for Ed. I know how difficult all of this is to come to grips with, but please try. If he didn’t enjoy what we were doing at least as much as I did, do you really think he would allow it to continue?”
“I don’t know. I think that… if Ed were being abused by somebody he really cared about, it would never occur to him to leave. He probably wouldn’t even notice. He would probably just figure that it was what he deserved, and stick around for more.”
The idea sat, stone, in Roy’s stomach. He could imagine. At the same time… he really couldn’t. He had seen Edward in some of his worst moments, seen what was probably the last time a little blonde-haired boy had let himself cry - seen Ed in an alley with a chimera girl’s blood on his frantic hands, seen him hunched and hollow-eyed after one or another failure, watched him over the years as every last bit of his innocence had been stripped away.
That look was so familiar. But, it was familiar for a different Edward, for an explosive little boy with too much mouth for his size and a black place inside him that sometimes - only sometimes - got the better of him. The man that Roy knew now was different, stronger.
“I think that you don’t give him enough credit,” Roy replied. “I think that he’s grown up a lot in the past few years. I don’t think that’s who he is anymore.”
Winry watched him, searching.
“So tell me what’s been happening between you two.”
This, at least, Roy could manage. He felt no shame for this.
“I suppose I’ll start with the arm. Edward and I were sparring in an abandoned warehouse, but it wasn’t quite as abandoned as we thought. At least, it still had cargo in it: one of the crates was still full of gunpowder. It didn’t explode when the crate caught on fire, probably because it wasn't packed in tightly enough, but it did go up in flames very quickly, and Ed was too close. He might have been hurt worse if he hadn’t been so quick on his feet. Thank god for his agility,” Roy said. “I apologized to him, profusely, and I apologize to you as well. I know the arm was your handiwork.”
There was no forgiveness in the Rockbell girl's face, but she did look sad.
“I see,” she said. He wasn’t sure if she did or not.
“The other injuries were sustained directly afterwards. It was…” He paused. “Pleasant, for both of us,” he said, but that didn’t nearly do it justice. He could see her looking at him, judging, and knew she found him wanting. He would have to do better. “No, not pleasant - hell, it was amazing. Edward is amazing. We match each other.”
She didn’t respond: he did the only thing he could do, and continued speaking. Maybe, if he tried hard enough, words could move her.
“The man is more brilliant than I can put words to. He is the strongest person I know, both mentally and physically. Morally - well, I’ve met mountains less rigid than Edward when it comes to his principles. He constantly out-thinks me on so many levels, and yet he can be so endearingly idiotic when it comes down to it.” Roy forced himself to keep going. He could see a softening in her shoulders, in her face. “He's brilliant, and certainly never boring. He’s going to be truly great someday, if he isn't already. I’m constantly baffled by the fact that he keeps coming back to me, and grateful for it. There’s not a day that I take him for granted.
“So you see, I meant it,” Roy continued, “when I said that I care very much about him. I want to see him back here, in Central. I want to be with him again. I know that right now it’s selfish for me to be so concerned about what I want.” He kept every word steady. “But if I make him half as happy as he makes me - and I think that I might - it might not be so entirely selfish as all that. I know that he's your friend, and you want him to be happy. If the person who could make him happy were me - could you live with that? I’m asking for your permission to make things right with him, Ms. Rockbell.”
“And if I say no?”
Roy’s heart sank.
“You haven’t yet. I’m still holding on to that hope,” he replied, wry. They measured each other.
“I love Ed,” she finally burst out. “It seems like I always have. He and I were supposed to…” She wiped the back of a hand over her eyes, but Roy didn’t see any tears. “I can’t believe you would come and steal him from me, too. Haven’t you taken enough from me already?”
The man felt the cut of those words, but he knew how to keep himself stoic, solid, after all these years. He had faced down far more terrible things than a little blonde girl in a library. Hadn’t he?
“I don’t think,” he began, slowly, “that Edward would consent to being stolen, and god help you if you’re trying to make him do anything he doesn’t want to do.” The well-worn books watched him, comforting in their way. “I can see that you do love him. I can’t say that I do, not right now. But, I want to have the chance to see where this could go, what it could turn into. More importantly, however, have you asked Ed what he wants?”
“No,” she replied, quiet. “I haven't been able to talk to him. I really don't know what he wants. Maybe he doesn't even know himself.” She paused. “But Al usually knows, even when Ed doesn't. And... Al approves of you two? He’s given you his blessing?”
“If he hadn’t, would I be here right now?”
She didn’t reply to that, but instead said:
“I wish you were easier to hate.”
The twist Roy felt inside him was not unexpected.
“Don’t get me wrong, I’m still doing pretty well at that. But… I’ll talk to him. If he can convince me that you’re not a power-hungry monster, that you would be better for him than I would -” she kept her voice mostly calm, Roy was impressed “-then I guess I won’t stand in your way.”
The girl stood up forcefully from the couch, hands fisted by her sides. Her eyes were fierce. She looked so much like Edward, then, that Roy almost smiled.
“But if I’m not convinced, if I think you’re even a little bit bad for Ed, then you and I are going to have this conversation again, only this time I won’t hold back.”
“I wouldn’t expect you to.”
*
The next time Edward called his house, Winry answered the phone.
“Come home,” she said. “We need to talk.”
Could he really tell her no?
*
When Ed arrived in front of his house several days later, he found Al out in the garden, on his hands and knees as he plucked little sprouting weeds from between a bunch of yellow flowers with tall stalks. Ed had his suitcase slung over his shoulder in its usual position, and he tried out a smile for his brother, though he felt rather worse for wear. At least his clothes were relatively clean, even if he wasn't.
“Hey, Al,” he said as he swung the gate open. “Still haven’t given up the gardening thing yet, I see.”
Alphonse was on his feet in half a second. He spun around, catching his brother in a wide-eyed look before practically leaping forward to trap the man in a hug.
“Brother! I’m so happy to see you,” he said, and really sounded it. Ed smiled, tired, and hugged his brother back for a moment. When Al pulled away, his expression turned accusing. “Where have you been? Don’t you dare take off like that without telling me again! You had all of us worried sick!”
Ed winced.
“Yeah. I know,” he said. “Sorry. I was fine, though,” he said, giving the other a smile that didn’t feel quite as reassuring as he meant it to be.
“You were not okay,” Al returned, putting his hands on his hips. “You still aren’t. Look at you: you’re a mess! Have you been sleeping? What have you even been out there doing?”
Ed gave a small laugh: he probably did look a bit of a mess. He had been traveling for a week now, and he had sand stuck in all his parts, whether metal or not.
“Well… I passed through some of the desert towns in the east. I checked in on Youswell, they’re doing great,” he said, running a hand through his travel-grimed bangs. “Found where Rose has been hiding out. Her kid is three now, can you believe?” he said, grinning.
Al smiled, though with less enthusiasm.
“Yes, that's wonderful, I hope I can see her soon, too. But you couldn’t have just told me that, so at least I knew? Or told Roy? Or Winry? Or anybody?”
Ed’s stomach clenched. He knew who would be on the other side of his front door, and he would do just about anything before facing her down again.
“Sorry,” he said.
“I don’t mean to make you feel bad, Brother. Unless feeling bad will keep you from doing stupid things again. In that case, I definitely mean to make you feel bad,” Al said. He turned back to his bushes and bent over to pick up his bag of gardening tools, then thought better of it and stood up. When he turned back around, he gave his brother a serious look.
“Really, I’m just glad to see you again,” he said. “That’s all.” He stepped forward on the little cobblestone walkway. The elder brother stood still.
“Is, uh,” he began, eyeing the door with some trepidation, “Is Winry in there?”
“Yes,” said Al, carefully watching. “She’s been here for a few days.”
“Did you call her here?”
“Yeah. She really needed somebody to talk to about the whole thing, and I don't think she wanted to bring any of this up to Granny Pinako.”
“Yeah. I don't blame her.” Ed's eyes swept around the garden, looking at Al's work: flowers flattered the greenery in a carefully controlled riot of colors, a hundred different shades but each in their own proper place. He wondered if their beauty owed anything to his brother's alchemy skills. “What did you tell her?”
“Enough that she knows what's going on. Now she wants to talk to you, to get the rest of the story.” He paused. “Are you gonna be okay? I mean, really? I can be there while you talk to her, if you want,” he said, though Edward knew his brother well enough to get that Al didn’t really want to, and was just offering to be nice.
“I’ll be fine, Al.” He probably would. “I don’t need a babysitter. I can handle this on my own.”
Alphonse’s look said that he didn’t entirely believe Ed.
“Should I leave, then?” he asked, always accommodating. “I can go to the cinema, or to lunch or something, if you need space.”
“No, that’s fine. You can keep gardening, or whatever you want. You just shouldn’t have to be there for this.,” said Edward, nerves twinging, sickening him. Al gave him a sad look.
“Okay. But, you know, it might not be as bad as you think it’s going to be.”
Ed laughed, coarse and dry.
“Yeah?” he said, steeling himself for the last five steps to the door. He set down the suitcase and used his flesh hand to open the door. His right arm couldn’t do any more than just bend at the elbow. He wished he had been able to get his automail fixed before leaving - for the past week, every day had been a reminder of his crimes. “Well, thanks for the pep talk. I can handle it from here, though.”
Al gave him a small smile, and put a hand on the other’s shoulder.
“Of course you can. If you just explain things properly, I’m sure everything’ll be fine.”
“Right,” said Edward. Did he even want to explain things? Was there anything to explain? Were there any words that could make this better? He opened the door.
“Hey, I’m home,” he called out, looking around his living room. He kicked off his boots and hung his brown duster up on the wall rack, because Al had followed him in and was watching him with some expectation, then set his suitcase down again. No one responded at first: then Ed heard the sounds of feet on the upper floorboards.
Winry appeared at the top of the stairs, and the lump in his stomach turned to acid.
“Hey, Ed,” she said.
Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Alphonse’s expression turn strained. He gave his younger brother a questioning look, but the other just smiled and shook his head. Another time.
“Hey, Winry,” said Edward, turning his eyes back to her.
“I guess I’ll just… go back outside, then?” Al said.
“Sure. Thanks, Al.”
“No problem. If you need anything, though, come get me?”
Ed nodded. The younger man disappeared back out the front door.
“I’m glad you came back,” she said. She didn’t look at all angry, but that didn’t stop Ed’s nerves. She came down the stairs.
“Yeah?” said Edward. “I guess… you wanted to talk to me.”
She looked better than he had expected, if maybe a bit tired. He wondered how many times she had cried over him, now.
“Yeah. I did.” She paused. “You want to go to the backyard, or something? I’ve been a little cooped up inside.”
Ed almost laughed. He knew how she felt. Hadn’t that been the start of the whole problem?
“If you want,” he said, picking up his boots from beside him so he didn’t track mud across the house. She walked, barefoot, through the kitchen to the back door, and he followed her.
“How have you been?” she asked.
“Ah, the usual,” he said, slipping his shoes back on as he reached the back rug. “Been around, doing stuff.”
“I see,” she said, then paused. “I’m sorry that I made you run away.”
Ed looked at her with surprise as they passed out into the backyard sunshine together. Winry sat on the singular chair, wooden and weather-beaten.
“You’re sorry? Don’t be ridiculous,” he said, and flopped down onto the ground, crosslegged. He glared at a clump of grass. “You’ve got nothin’ to be sorry about.”
“Of course I do. I made you feel bad, and then you ran away before I had a chance to fix your arm.”
“Bad” would be one way to put it, he supposed.
“No, Winry, you don't have to apologize for anything. I ran away because I’m a coward, and because I didn’t want to have to have this conversation. The one we’re having right now.” He breathed deeply to calm himself. It didn’t work. “So let me just get this out of the way right now. I’m sorry for all the stupid shit I’ve done and said. I’m sorry I hurt you. You didn’t deserve any of this.”
“Al told me,” she said, as if she hadn’t registered his apology, “that you and Colonel - General - Mustang are in a relationship now.”
The pale ache in his throat grew.
“We were, for a little bit. I’m really sorry. I wasn’t thinking.”
“Obviously not,” she snapped. “How could you do something so stupid? How could you do something so dangerous?”
Some part of him still wanted to defend Mustang, after all of this. He couldn’t stop it.
“He’s not dangerous. He - fuck, there’s not excusing what he’s done, I guess. It wasn’t stupid because he’s dangerous, though, it was stupid because I hurt you. It was a pretty despicable thing to do.”
Her brow furrowed - she was upset, but he couldn’t tell what had caused it, precisely.
“You’re right, it was pretty awful,” she finally said. “But I don’t really blame you. He and I talked. You… told him you couldn’t see him again, didn’t you?”
Shit, he was going to have to talk to Roy properly, in person. The man deserved at least that. Ed didn’t want to. He knew the man could convince him to come back in half a second.
“Of course I did. I couldn’t just keep fucking the man who killed your parents, could I?” he said, to finally get it out into the open. He closed his eyes, braced himself for her fury.
“I’m happy that you would do that for me,” she said, though she didn’t sound happy at all. She sounded kind of dazed, and quiet. “You always did put other people’s happiness first.” She paused, exhaled. “But I have to ask you, why did you get with him in the first place?”
Edward had the vague sensation that this was some kind of test.
“Um,” he said, trying to remember past the guilt, and the fear. “He was kind to me. He took me seriously. He knows everything I’ve ever done, and he's never judged me for it. And he's smart. He kept me on my toes.”
“You keep talking in the past tense.”
“I told you, I ended it.”
“But you really cared about him, didn’t you. Care,” she corrected herself. “You really care about him.”
“I’m sorry,” he said, because what else could he say to that? “This whole thing is so fucked up.”
“I have to say that yeah, it’s a little messed up from where I’m standing.” She cocked her head to the side, straightened her shoulders. “How’s your back?”
Ed flushed.
“It’s fine,” he said to the grass. “Better than ever. Was never that bad in the first place.”
“He told me that both of you enjoyed whatever you were doing that got you those cuts,” she said, piercing. “That sounds like a rationalization to me. I don’t understand how anybody could enjoy that.”
“I don’t get it either,” he said. Wires crossed in his brain, maybe. Psychological illness. He’d always known he was fucking nuts.
“So, was he lying?”
“No,” he said, face burning. “He was telling the truth. I asked for it. I liked it. Don’t blame him.”
She stood up and moved to sit on the grass beside him. He turned his eyes up to her - she looked so sad.
“Okay,” she said. “Okay. So… he's not abusing you. You're willing. And you care about him.” She made a quiet noise, a thinking noise. “If all of these problems with me had never come up, would you still want to be in a relationship with him?”
“Um, probably,” said Edward, unable to think of anything else to say.
“Do you just like men?”
Ed shrugged and hunched over further. He put an arm around his upright knee.
“I dunno. I hadn’t really thought about it.” Sex had never really been high on his priority list. Through most of his life he had noticed attractive people in mostly an aesthetic sense, not in a sexual one. He had masturbated, of course, though with no real relish, and had never really considered sex with another person to be an option on the table before Mustang had come calling. He honestly didn’t know how to answer her.
“Please tell me that you do, even if it isn’t true,” she said, her voice wavering for the first time. Ed looked up in surprise. “That might make it a little easier for me to deal with the fact that you picked him, not me.”
As tears began to fill her eyes, everything suddenly fell in place for him. He understood why she looked at him sometimes like she expected something from him; why her smiles made him happy, but also a little bit nervous. She was in love with him, and while he loved her very much, he didn’t feel the same way.
“I’m sorry,” he said, and reached out for her, pulling her into his arms. She smelled like scented shampoo and machine oil. “I’m so sorry, Winry. I didn’t know. I can choose you, if you want. We could make it work.” She buried her face in his shoulder.
“But you don’t love me now, do you?”
“No,” he said, quiet. “I don’t. But I would try, if you wanted.”
She gave a brief laugh, and turned her face up to him.
“Oh, Ed. Of course you would. You would try, and you would keep trying until the world ended, thinking that maybe if you tried hard enough you could make it happen. But we’ve known each other for all of our lives, and you still don’t love me. I don’t think it’s ever going to happen. And if it's not going to happen, then I don't want you sticking around with me, lying to me every day that it's fine, you're happy, you love me... That would be miserable for both of us.”
Edward held her in silence, there on the grass. After a few moments, she sat up and smiled at him, tear-tracks still gleaming on her cheeks as they dried.
“Alright. I guess I can live with that,” she said. “I’m glad I know, now, so I can move on.” She paused. “So, promise me that you’ll go make things right with General Mustang. I may not understand what you two have, but I understand that it made you happy. I’m not so selfish that I could get in the way of that.”
Ed stared at her in shock.
“What?”
“You heard me. Go talk to him. Make it better.” A pause. “All I ever wanted was for you to be happy. You’re not going to be happy with me, so I shouldn’t hold you back from being happy with someone else. Right?”
Edward’s heart hurt. He wished he did love her. She was so much stronger than he was, a thousand times better of a person. He hadn’t thought for a second that she could ever forgive him.
“Are you sure?” he asked, not sure if he hoped she would keep to it or change her mind.
“Yeah. I’ve been thinking about it a lot over the past several days. I just had to make sure that everything was alright, from your own mouth. So it’s fine. You have my blessing. Just,” she said, sitting up straight, “let me have this one thing.”
Then she leaned in slowly, and kissed him. They stayed like that for a moment, his shirt clenched in her hand, and her lips soft on his.
He held her to him. It was the very least he could do.
She pulled away.
“Okay. I’m good now,” she said, smiling. Ed would have been convinced if he hadn’t known better. “I can live with that.”
“You’re amazing,” he said. He stood up, and extended a hand to help her to her feet as well. “I honestly can’t believe you,” he said, and smiled at her.
“Yeah, well, keep telling me that,” she said with a short laugh. “By the way, I have something for you,” she said.
They went inside together. Ed waited at the kitchen table for her to come back.
When she did, she had a brand new automail arm in her hands.
“Don’t you break it this time,” she said, warning. “Don’t you dare.”
Ed grinned, wide and thoughtless, and for the first time felt maybe a little bit forgiven.
“Yes ma’am,” he said, and took it from her.
***
***
Whew! So that's done. Next chapter, back to our regularly scheduled porn!
If you liked, tell me! I'm not actually done writing the next chapter yet, so love and encouragement is necessary! There may also be a seriously porny epilogue type thing, if I'm feeling up to it.
Loves, and thanks for reading!
Chapter: 9/10?
Word Count: About 68,000
Characters: Roy Mustang, Edward Elric, Alphonse Elric, Winry Rockbell
Rating: M. Mature. Explicit. NC-17. Porn.
Warnings: Serious kinkiness. Pain play, whipping, dominance/submission, bondage. Oh, and a profusion of cursing, though that's going to be the least of your worries!
Summary: Just because you want something doesn't mean it's easy to let yourself have it. Relationships are hard enough even when they're totally normal - but Roy and Ed seem determined to make theirs as not-normal as it can get.
BDSM porn with a plot. Or plot with overwhelming amounts of porn. Pick one.
Notes: A totally unofficial (and much longer) sequel to Cryogenia's wonderful "Ties that Bind." If you haven't read it, go read it here!
This Chapter: Roy and Ed try to figure things out with everyone but each other, and everyone has conversations they don't want to have.
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
*
Roy stood there in silence for a moment, telephone receiver to his ear and mind still reeling.
Alphonse, he thought, distantly, as he gained control of himself again. I have to talk to Alphonse. Al will know what to do.
His hand shot out and spun the phone dial - six numbers to connect with the Elric home.
“Hello?” said a voice on the other end. “This is Alphonse Elric.”
“Al, I’m glad you’re there. It’s Roy.”
“Oh my god, General, I’m so glad you called. I kept trying to get through to you but the line was busy. Were you talking to my brother?”
“I was.”
“What did he say?”
“Honestly, not much, except that he doesn’t want to see or speak to me ever again.” Roy kept his voice determinedly, forcibly calm.
Alphonse sighed, long and loud.
“That’s what I was afraid of.” A pause. “Can you come over? We need to talk.”
*
It’s a damn good thing that at least one of the Elric brothers is reasonable, Roy thought as he stepped out of the motor pool car, giving a quick thanks to the driver before opening their little gate and striding through to the front door. A damn good thing, yes, because this situation needed sorting, and hell if Roy was going to get any help from Edward in that area.
Alphonse jerked the door open before the older man even had a chance to knock on it. He looked tired, and bedraggled, and maybe a little bit frantic.
“Thank god you’ve made it. Please come in,” he said, and Roy stepped into the entry way. The place smelled sharp and woody, like cedar. He paused. “I - shall I make you some tea?” Al asked, shakily, still the generous host despite everything, or maybe it was just a habit. Routine could be so comforting, sometimes.
“Thank you, I could use a cup,” he said, not so much because he needed one but because Al looked like he needed to make one.
Al shut the door behind them and walked over to the kitchen. Roy followed, hands in his pockets, and watched the younger man rustle through his cabinets for the appropriate materials. One spoonful of leaves in the teapot, then the kettle went on the stove. Roy said nothing, and an awkward silence hung between them for a moment. Al pushed himself up to sit on the counter, next to the stove, his legs dangling off the side.
“Brother didn’t happen to tell you where he was or where he was going, did he?” Alphonse asked as soon as he was settled, with a look that could almost be pleading. He wanted the reassurance of authority, Roy guessed. As much as the older man would have loved to play that role, right at that moment he didn’t even have enough assurance for himself, much less any to spare for someone else. Roy pulled out a wooden chair from the kitchen table and sat down.
“I’m afraid not,” he said, with a shake of his head. “I would very much have liked him to. Something seemed to be very wrong, only he wouldn’t tell me what it was.” He kept his face and voice calm. He just had to find out what had happened, then fix it. This wasn’t a fundamental issue with their relationship. It was just a problem. Roy was good at fixing problems.
“Well,” Alphonse said, lacing his fingers together on his lap, “I can see why he didn’t say anything. But, regardless, you need to know. You two are important to each other, even if neither of you will say so.”
Roy didn’t reply.
“Alright. So. Ed went back to Risembool to get his arm fixed a few days ago. You knew this. I’m still mad at you about the arm thing, by the way,” the man said, narrowing his eyes. “But that’s neither here nor there right now. In any case, he was talking to Winry about his arm and about things in general, and Brother can really be extraordinarily bad at keeping secrets sometimes. He’s very honest.”
Roy nodded. “Unsubtle” might have been the word he would have chosen, but it all came out to the same thing.
“What I’m trying to say, General, is that Winry found out about brother’s - um - activities. I think there were marks on him somewhere. She was… she was very upset,” said Al, looking very upset himself.
Had he left marks on Ed’s back after their play in the warehouse? He searched back through his memories: yes, he had, he recalled. There had just been a bit of blood, maybe one cut, maybe two, but that was enough. Dammit - in hindsight, as always, everything became so very clear. He never should have used that whip that Ed transmuted. Rubber was so sharp, so painful, so likely to cut. He just hadn't minded much at the time, and neither had Edward.
He remembered thin, red lines across the man’s back: some would scab over, others would probably bruise. At the time, it had been a beautiful thing. Not everyone appreciated the sight of red welts over packed muscle, or the blissful expression on Edward's face as he had gotten them.
Well, anyone at all would appreciate the expression itself, and would appreciate the noises he had made as he touched himself there on the warehouse floor. Roy was lucky as all hell that he was the only one who had ever gotten to experience either.
“I see,” Roy said, tearing his mind away from the image. “Yes, this can look very bad if you don’t know what’s happening.”
“Even if you do know what it is, it can be hard to understand. Sometimes I wonder…” Al shook his head and cut himself off. “Anyway. Brother was having enough of a problem not feeling like a messed-up freak even before anyone else was judging him for it. He’s really very good at judging himself without any help.”
Roy nodded and leaned forward in his chair, resting his elbows on his knees. The pale whistle of the kettle interrupted their conversation. Alphonse hopped down and busied himself pouring the water into the pot, then collected teacups and saucers and the sugar pot as the drink steeped. Roy noted with some distant amusement that the dainty cups had floral patterns on them - definitely not Edward’s doing.
“So, basically,” Roy said, watching the other man pour tea through the strainer and into each cup, “Edward is just getting cold feet,” he said, brilliantly relieved. “So all I need to do is find him and talk to him. He’ll come around.”
Alphonse’s face tightened, and he paused in his activities. Roy’s stomach dropped into his feet at the look.
“Well,” said Al, and the way he said it made the word cut deep. He picked up the teacups and saucers and carried them over to the table, then returned within seconds with the sugar pot. “That’s not all of it. Winry found out that Brother’s been doing this with you. It's, um - it's your and her history together. That's why she was so upset.”
A sick rush hit Roy then, a memory - blood on the floor, blood on two bodies - the doctors had pleaded, they had looked scared, but everyone looked at you with terror when you had them cornered, and he hadn't had the sense or the guts to see what he was doing until it was too late. A million thoughts whirled through Roy Mustang’s mind.
“I see,” he said, and spooned some sugar into his tea.
“Then I’m sure you understand the situation,” Al said, his look searching. Roy felt the creases at the corners of his eyes, the tightness of his lips, felt suddenly very old, older than he had any right to be. The younger man exhaled, long and slow, and slumped down a little, like he had deflated. “Brother’s not okay. I’m sure he feels like a horrible person, and probably a million other things besides. He gets all lost in his head sometimes. I think he's lost now. He’s prone to doing really stupid things when he gets like this. It’s scaring me. I don’t know what he’s going to do.” He held his cup between his hands, not even drinking it.
Roy didn’t know what Alphonse wanted him to say. He didn’t know what he ought to say. Should he give meaningless assurances, say that Edward would be fine, that the man could handle himself? His ability to do that depended entirely on how much he wanted to.
He knew that Edward got trapped up in the past, in memories of his worst moments - the two of them were alike in that way. He had watched Edward as a boy, seen him scared and angry and guilty after a million little defeats that never held him back but certainly tried, hit him as hard as they could right where it hurt.
They had never talked about any of it. Edward clammed up, violently sometimes, whenever anything about his past came up. He didn’t let anybody into that head of his - nobody except Alphonse.
Suddenly, inexplicably, Roy realized that he wanted to be allowed in there too. He didn’t want to lose Edward before he had the chance to learn about him. It was selfish of him, of course - he would be hurting the Rockbell girl, who didn’t deserve to be hurt any more than she already had been. He would, no way around it. But in those moments when Edward gave one of his genuine, brilliant smiles, when he was utterly present in whatever moment took him by surprise, when Roy himself had caused one of those looks of delight, the world seemed just a little bit brighter.
It wasn't all selfish, though, because he knew - at least, thought - that he made Edward happy, too.
“I know your friend has every right to hate me,” Roy began, “and that Ed probably made the right choice in leaving me.” Alphonse looked down at the floor, and his shoulders sagged. “I also know that I’m not ready to give him up yet. I’m sorry,” he said, not knowing precisely which of his many offenses he was apologizing for.
Al gave him a smile, and put his cup back on its saucer.
“I know,” he said, and Roy was sure he did. “If I thought that this was all so meaningless to you that you’d be willing to give up now, I never would have called you over.”
Roy took the first sip of his tea. The liquid was red-gold, and warmed his throat as it went down.
“I just want to see brother happy. He has trouble letting himself just be. There always has to be something making life complicated.”
Roy nodded.
“And do you think,” Roy said, testing each word before he spoke, “that if he would stay, then I could make Ed happy? Our relationship is never going to be uncomplicated. I guess what I mean is, you think that I’ll be worth the trouble?”
Alphonse gave him a sharp look - maybe threatening, maybe just judging, Roy couldn’t tell. He sipped his tea again.
“I think that you had better make him happy. He deserves some peace in his life, after everything he’s been through.” Al cocked his head to the side, watching the older man, and his voice became softer. “And I think that maybe, you do too.”
A silence. Roy was very glad for the tea.
“And what about Miss Rockbell?” he finally asked. Alphonse sighed, and shrugged.
“I would love to help you more, but I’m afraid that all I can really do is convince her to talk to you. After that, you’re on your own.”
“That’s all I would ask of you,” Roy said, ignoring the dread, and the memories.
The younger man took a long drink from his cup.
“But believe me,” he began, hard, "when I say that if I ever hear about anything like you melting my brother’s arm again, then she and I will be lining up to hurt you, and not in a fun way. Am I perfectly clear?”
“Perfectly,” Roy said, watching the other man. “In fact, I’ll hold you to that.”
“Good,” Al said, and stood up. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I have a phone call to make.”
*
It took nearly an hour’s worth of telephone conversation and three days of travel for Winry to make it to Central. Al called General Mustang immediately before going to meet her at the train station. The man would need to be on call, ready to come over at a moment’s notice if she agreed to talk to him. If not, Al would take her out to a nice dinner, and she could sleep on it, and they would try again tomorrow.
Actually, he decided, he would take her out for a nice dinner, however things went. He had just received his first ever paycheck, and wasn’t there some tradition about doing something special with that? She would need something to fall back on. Any way the coin fell, this was probably going to be a stressful day for her.
He met her with a smile at the train station, and returned her hug in kind.
“Hey Winry,” he said as she pulled away. “How was your trip?”
“Ugh, long,” she said, and gave Al a look of delight as he stooped to pick up her luggage from where it sat beside her. “Oh, thank you, you're so considerate. Even though three days is a lot shorter than it used to be, it’s still too long to be cooped up on a train. I need a shower something awful.” She was probably right: her hat seemed to have left a semi-permanent impression on her hair, flattening her bangs to her face and leaving a heavy dent in the rest of it. Al laughed.
“Yeah, three days of trains will do that to you, especially since you took the sleeper cars, didn’t you?” he asked, then started walking towards the station exit, suitcase in one hand, the other arm around Winry’s shoulder.
“Only last night, but it's so hard to go to sleep on uncomfortable beds when you're being shaken around like that! Remind me not to do that again, I’d rather ride a horse if it meant I got to stop for the night,” she moaned, though the last time she had ridden a horse she had fallen straight off the side and Ed had made fun of her for the rest of the day.
Al laughed.
“No you wouldn’t. You’d miss all the gears and wheels and engines and stuff.”
“Very true,” she said, as they stepped out onto the front stairs and into the sunshine. Cars whirred by next to a bustling pedestrian crowd on the sidewalk. “It's not so bad. Actually, on my first day they let me go up to the engine, and I got to see some of the new technology they’re using to make the trains so much faster! You have to see it to believe it, it’s so amazing,” she said, eyes turning starry and distant.
And then, the topic of conversation was machinery, and Al barely needed to respond at all after that. He just smiled and nodded and occasionally interjected a word of interest or understanding as they passed across the pavement, still wet from the day’s earlier rain, and started towards the house.
The walk and Winry’s enthusiastic monologue lasted for more than half an hour, but if it had lasted an hour or two, truthfully, Al wouldn’t have minded. She just got so excited when she talked about machines, and seeing her happy made him happy.
Eventually, they reached the little gate that marked the entrance to his front yard.
“And this is it,” Al announced when there was a lull in her monologue. “This is the place we’re calling home for the moment.”
As he presented it to her, he looked at it again with fresh eyes, glancing over the elaborate façade and the gargoyles that decorated every possible corner, the stained glass window on the east side. At first, he had been a bit embarrassed about his brother’s Gothic additions to their new abode, but now they gave him a strange swell of pride. Nobody else’s house had skulls on the balcony railings. He was glad he had stopped his brother short of turning them a shiny gold, though. That would have just been in bad taste.
He hadn’t been able to talk Ed out of the little moat that surrounded their little lot, but the garden beyond it belonged completely to Al. He would trust his brother with his life, but never with his rosebushes.
“It definitely looks like you two,” Winry said with a little laugh as Al opened the gate and led her across the short bridge that spanned the moat. “Ed went a little crazy, huh?” she said. Even though she was smiling, Al could see her face tighten.
“Yeah, he sure doesn’t do anything halfway,” he said, and pulled his key from his pocket. He unlocked the door and opened it, letting Winry in.
“Have you heard from him, at all?” she asked as she passed by him into the living room.
“Once, since I called you. He says he’s fine. He wouldn’t tell me where he is, though.” He set the suitcase down in the living room by the fireplace. “Have you eaten? I can make you something if you want.”
“No, that’s fine,” she said, taking a seat on the couch. She looked around, pressing her knees together awkwardly, the rest of her body just as tense. “This is a really nice place,” she told him. She didn't seem to mind the fact that there were books stacked on the floor, or that a collection of coffee mugs had reproduced and started families on the side tables.
“It is, isn’t it? I’ve gotten really fond of it. We made a lot of the furniture ourselves, too.”
A silence cut the air between them. Winry sat on the couch, expectant, and Al stood there on the far edge of the rug, the quiet ringing in his ears.
“I guess we should talk about what I brought you here to discuss, then, huh?” he said, finally moving forward to take his own seat.
“I guess so.”
“Alright then, I’ll get right down to it. Brother told me the basics about what happened between you two. I didn’t get much in the way of details out of him, though, so maybe I could hear your end?”
“Yeah,” she said, then paused. “Well, he came into my workshop with his arm all busted up, like he always does. I guess you knew about that?”
Al nodded.
“It was burned pretty badly. There were scorch marks all over, and he couldn’t move it properly. The wires were melted all over the inside of the case, Al,” she said.
He frowned. He hadn’t ever actually seen his brother’s arm. He never liked hearing about Ed getting injured - but at the same time, he knew that his brother had had far worse injuries than that in the past.
“And then he told me that Roy Mustang had done that to him, and I got - I got scared, Al. I mean, he said they were sparring, but sparring shouldn’t be dangerous, should it? I was scared, and still a little mad from when Ed told me he had busted his automail again, and then I’m really mad at the general for what he did to Ed. And then I’m working on his arm and I see these marks on his back.” She paused, voice catching, and all that Alphonse could do was reach out and put a hand on her knee, just for the physical reassurance.
“He's got all these bruises and scabs and red welts, and stuff.” She looked down at the floor, her words wavering in the thick air. “I ask him if General Mustang gave him those, too. And Al, he doesn’t answer me,” she said, looking so very hurt and bewildered. “I’m scared for him, Al. I don’t know what’s happening, except that that man is doing something horrible to him, and I - hasn’t he hurt enough people already?” she asked, and finally let herself cry, big wet tears that rolled down her face in shining lines.
Al hurt for her, and all he could do was squeeze her knee.
“Winry,” he began, picking each word carefully, “I know that there’s more at hand here than just this, but I can tell you one thing: it’s not what you think it is. I know how it looks, but I promise it’s not that.”
“Isn’t it?” she asked, her voice rising in pitch. “Well that’s good to hear, because I don’t even know what I think it is. Did you know about all of this?” she asked, and there was accusation in her voice.
“Most of it. I can only help with one part of this issue, but I’ll do my best to explain.” A pause, thinking. “Winry, the General and Brother… well, they’ve been getting pretty close recently.”
His childhood friend stared at him, uncomprehending. The tear-tracks on her face shone.
“Some things happened, and even though they were both really stupid about it for a while, they’re in a relationship now.”
The world around them stilled, and a silent dread suffused the space between them.
“They’re… what?” she asked, finally.
“They’re in a relationship, committed and everything. Brother really likes General Mustang. I think the General really likes him too.”
A look of horror spread across her face.
“A relationship? Ed and General Mustang? You mean… romantic?” She took in a shaky breath. “Are you sure?”
“One hundred percent. I’m sorry to have to tell you this, Winry. I guess Ed didn’t say anything because he didn’t want to hurt you any more than he already had.”
The look on he face hurt him, and he moved over to the couch to put his arm around her. She sat, stiffly, head hung forward.
“I don’t even know where to start,” she said. Al let his arm hang loosely around her waist. “I just don’t understand why Ed would do something like that, knowing everything.”
Al nodded, and held her closer.
“If they’re together, then why would Mustang do those things to him? Why would Ed let him? I never thought Ed would be the kind of person to get into an abusive relationship.” She turned her eyes to him. “But sometimes I know he blames himself for everything that's ever happened to anyone, and doesn't always think very well of himself, and maybe he thinks that a murderer who beats him is the best that he’s ever going to get. Only it’s not, he’s brilliant, he could have anyone he wanted. Al, why would you let something like this happen? I thought you two were supposed to take care of each other.” Her body began to shake beside him.
“I know what it looks like. It’s not abusive, though. If I thought there were anything wrong with it, I would have stopped it by now. It’s consensual. The two of them…” Al swallowed, putty under Winry's wide-eyed look. “It’s hard to explain. The best that I understand it is that it’s a kind of, uh, role-play, um, in - in bed,” he said, knowing that his face had probably flushed a deep red. He turned his eyes to his knees, but soldiered on, for his brother's sake. “There are lots of people who do it. One person plays the role of a dominant, and the other the submissive. This is something that they both enjoy, something they do to make themselves happy and to make the other person happy, too. Sometimes they do things that will make the submissive person feel pain, but it’s always because the person enjoys it. Either party can always stop it, if they want to.”
Another silence.
“That’s… that’s fucked up,” she whispered, and when he looked back at her, her eyes had closed. “I never thought that Ed would ever want to be submissive to anybody.”
“Believe me, Ed isn't acting any differently at all, as far as I can see. And it’s a little weird, sure, but I don’t think it’s messed up. Lots of people like it.”
“Nobody I’ve ever heard of.”
“That makes sense. I think that the people who do like it tend to keep quiet about it, because most people who don’t like it think just what you're saying - that it’s wrong, or disturbing, you know. They're scared of being judged for it. But, some people just enjoy pain, and some people enjoy not having to worry about doing anything, not having to make any decisions for an hour or two. Other people enjoy having control.” He paused. “I thought it was really weird at first, too. But then… but then Brother liked it, and he seemed really happy. I mean it, Winry. I think this was something he needed, he just didn’t know it until the General came along.”
Winry leaned in to his side, and Al wrapped his other arm around her. When she spoke, her words were muffled against his shirt.
“I still think there’s something wrong with both of them.”
“Maybe,” he said, and stroked her hair. “But how would I know, and who am I to judge? Maybe I'm the weird one and they're perfectly normal. And before all of this started, I was actually really worried about Brother. This sort of play seems weird, but trust me when I say that it's way better for him than the stuff he was doing before.”
She didn’t ask what he meant. Maybe she had gotten too many answers that afternoon already, and didn't want any more..
“Mm,” she said, by way of reply. Then, “It makes me sick that General Mustang would want to keep hurting people, after everything he’s done. And Edward, why would he… Mustang murdered my parents. They were like an aunt and uncle to you both,” she said, softly. Al swallowed nothing, throat dry.
“I can’t answer that. I would love to, but even if I knew, it wouldn't be my place to share. But I will say this one thing,” he added, carefully, meaningfully. “I think that sometimes you really can’t help who you fall for.”
Winry fisted a hand in his shirt and said, wavering:
“And I guess, this time, the person he fell for wasn’t me, was it?”
Al hugged her tighter, and tried to keep his own thoughts under control. He had always suspected, but had hoped anyway… In any case, this wasn’t the time for that.
“No, not this time,” he said, stroking her hair with one hand as the other arm held her tightly to his chest.
“Does Edward just… like men?” she asked, and even though Al knew she might feel better if he said yes, he couldn’t lie to her.
“Maybe,” he said, as a compromise. “I honestly don’t know. I never asked. Really, though, I think he just likes the General.”
“This is a lot to take in,” she said after a moment. “I’m just so confused, Al.”
“And hurt, I know. You have every right to be. I know that Brother felt awful after he talked to you. He couldn’t believe he had hurt you so badly, without even thinking about it.”
“I didn’t mean to make him feel awful.”
“Of course not, I’m not trying to blame you. I don’t think there’s any blame to be given.”
“I can still blame Mustang,” she said, voice steely. “He dragged Edward into all of this.”
“I think that you should talk to the General. Maybe you’ll feel differently.”
Alphonse could actually feel her pulse quicken. She leaned away from him, slowly, and looked him in the eyes.
“I don’t ever want to see that man again.” Al winced. Of course she wouldn’t. But still.
“For Ed’s sake, Winry… I’m asking you to give it a try. Brother is upset, and wandering all around the country by himself, and I really worry about him when he gets like this. I think that you talking to General Mustang might help.” He sighed. “I just want everybody to be happy. I want Brother to come home again.”
“So do I, Al,” she said.
“I’ve asked him to come back, lots. He won’t. But I think he might if you told him that the two of you needed to talk. He might come back if he thought you forgave him. But I don't think you'll be able to come to terms with all of this unless you talk to General Mustang.”
“Forgive?” asked Winry, brow furrowed. “I don’t need to forgive Ed for anything.” A pause. She set her jaw. “If you think it’ll help, I’ll talk to that man.”
Al hugged her, and stroked her hair.
*
Alphonse had given Roy and Winry the whole bottom floor of his house as a blast zone, but no amount of space could make the air between them less tense. She had chosen to meet in the library.
Roy sat at the desk, she on the couch. They watched each other.
“Hello, Ms. Rockbell,” he said, folding his hands on the table.
She looked just like her parents. He had noticed before, of course, but right in that moment the fact was more than just incidental. It clawed at him. He would never be able to forget it.
“Hi,” she said. The silence thickened.
“I understand that you had some things you wanted to discuss with me?”
“Of course I do,” she said. She was very pretty, with blonde hair and big eyes and well-muscled arms. She seemed so young, though. Was she really Edward’s age? “A lot of really weird stuff has been happening, and it always comes back to you.”
Did it? He supposed that, for her, it did.
“I hate you, you know that?” she said, and though she said it without any kind of force, it still set his stomach on edge. A chill struck him deep, at his core. Roy nodded.
“You have every right to,” he replied, his voice rough. He could do this. He deserved to hear anything she had to say.
“Damn right I do.” Pause. She locked him in that blue-eyed stare. Her voice finally wavered. “I thought… I could forget. I thought I could respect you. And then my oldest friend walks into my house all mangled and beat up and it’s your doing, and how am I supposed to forgive you?”
The words that came to his mouth were perhaps both the easiest and the hardest that he had ever had to speak.
“I’m not asking for your forgiveness,” he said, mouth dry. He laced his fingers together. “I’m not asking for your forgiveness for anything. I’m only asking for your understanding, in this specific situation. One of Edward's injuries was an accident, and I feel terrible about it. The other thing…” Roy took a breath, and swallowed hard. “It’s a different matter altogether. Ms. Rockbell, I care very much for Ed. I know how difficult all of this is to come to grips with, but please try. If he didn’t enjoy what we were doing at least as much as I did, do you really think he would allow it to continue?”
“I don’t know. I think that… if Ed were being abused by somebody he really cared about, it would never occur to him to leave. He probably wouldn’t even notice. He would probably just figure that it was what he deserved, and stick around for more.”
The idea sat, stone, in Roy’s stomach. He could imagine. At the same time… he really couldn’t. He had seen Edward in some of his worst moments, seen what was probably the last time a little blonde-haired boy had let himself cry - seen Ed in an alley with a chimera girl’s blood on his frantic hands, seen him hunched and hollow-eyed after one or another failure, watched him over the years as every last bit of his innocence had been stripped away.
That look was so familiar. But, it was familiar for a different Edward, for an explosive little boy with too much mouth for his size and a black place inside him that sometimes - only sometimes - got the better of him. The man that Roy knew now was different, stronger.
“I think that you don’t give him enough credit,” Roy replied. “I think that he’s grown up a lot in the past few years. I don’t think that’s who he is anymore.”
Winry watched him, searching.
“So tell me what’s been happening between you two.”
This, at least, Roy could manage. He felt no shame for this.
“I suppose I’ll start with the arm. Edward and I were sparring in an abandoned warehouse, but it wasn’t quite as abandoned as we thought. At least, it still had cargo in it: one of the crates was still full of gunpowder. It didn’t explode when the crate caught on fire, probably because it wasn't packed in tightly enough, but it did go up in flames very quickly, and Ed was too close. He might have been hurt worse if he hadn’t been so quick on his feet. Thank god for his agility,” Roy said. “I apologized to him, profusely, and I apologize to you as well. I know the arm was your handiwork.”
There was no forgiveness in the Rockbell girl's face, but she did look sad.
“I see,” she said. He wasn’t sure if she did or not.
“The other injuries were sustained directly afterwards. It was…” He paused. “Pleasant, for both of us,” he said, but that didn’t nearly do it justice. He could see her looking at him, judging, and knew she found him wanting. He would have to do better. “No, not pleasant - hell, it was amazing. Edward is amazing. We match each other.”
She didn’t respond: he did the only thing he could do, and continued speaking. Maybe, if he tried hard enough, words could move her.
“The man is more brilliant than I can put words to. He is the strongest person I know, both mentally and physically. Morally - well, I’ve met mountains less rigid than Edward when it comes to his principles. He constantly out-thinks me on so many levels, and yet he can be so endearingly idiotic when it comes down to it.” Roy forced himself to keep going. He could see a softening in her shoulders, in her face. “He's brilliant, and certainly never boring. He’s going to be truly great someday, if he isn't already. I’m constantly baffled by the fact that he keeps coming back to me, and grateful for it. There’s not a day that I take him for granted.
“So you see, I meant it,” Roy continued, “when I said that I care very much about him. I want to see him back here, in Central. I want to be with him again. I know that right now it’s selfish for me to be so concerned about what I want.” He kept every word steady. “But if I make him half as happy as he makes me - and I think that I might - it might not be so entirely selfish as all that. I know that he's your friend, and you want him to be happy. If the person who could make him happy were me - could you live with that? I’m asking for your permission to make things right with him, Ms. Rockbell.”
“And if I say no?”
Roy’s heart sank.
“You haven’t yet. I’m still holding on to that hope,” he replied, wry. They measured each other.
“I love Ed,” she finally burst out. “It seems like I always have. He and I were supposed to…” She wiped the back of a hand over her eyes, but Roy didn’t see any tears. “I can’t believe you would come and steal him from me, too. Haven’t you taken enough from me already?”
The man felt the cut of those words, but he knew how to keep himself stoic, solid, after all these years. He had faced down far more terrible things than a little blonde girl in a library. Hadn’t he?
“I don’t think,” he began, slowly, “that Edward would consent to being stolen, and god help you if you’re trying to make him do anything he doesn’t want to do.” The well-worn books watched him, comforting in their way. “I can see that you do love him. I can’t say that I do, not right now. But, I want to have the chance to see where this could go, what it could turn into. More importantly, however, have you asked Ed what he wants?”
“No,” she replied, quiet. “I haven't been able to talk to him. I really don't know what he wants. Maybe he doesn't even know himself.” She paused. “But Al usually knows, even when Ed doesn't. And... Al approves of you two? He’s given you his blessing?”
“If he hadn’t, would I be here right now?”
She didn’t reply to that, but instead said:
“I wish you were easier to hate.”
The twist Roy felt inside him was not unexpected.
“Don’t get me wrong, I’m still doing pretty well at that. But… I’ll talk to him. If he can convince me that you’re not a power-hungry monster, that you would be better for him than I would -” she kept her voice mostly calm, Roy was impressed “-then I guess I won’t stand in your way.”
The girl stood up forcefully from the couch, hands fisted by her sides. Her eyes were fierce. She looked so much like Edward, then, that Roy almost smiled.
“But if I’m not convinced, if I think you’re even a little bit bad for Ed, then you and I are going to have this conversation again, only this time I won’t hold back.”
“I wouldn’t expect you to.”
*
The next time Edward called his house, Winry answered the phone.
“Come home,” she said. “We need to talk.”
Could he really tell her no?
*
When Ed arrived in front of his house several days later, he found Al out in the garden, on his hands and knees as he plucked little sprouting weeds from between a bunch of yellow flowers with tall stalks. Ed had his suitcase slung over his shoulder in its usual position, and he tried out a smile for his brother, though he felt rather worse for wear. At least his clothes were relatively clean, even if he wasn't.
“Hey, Al,” he said as he swung the gate open. “Still haven’t given up the gardening thing yet, I see.”
Alphonse was on his feet in half a second. He spun around, catching his brother in a wide-eyed look before practically leaping forward to trap the man in a hug.
“Brother! I’m so happy to see you,” he said, and really sounded it. Ed smiled, tired, and hugged his brother back for a moment. When Al pulled away, his expression turned accusing. “Where have you been? Don’t you dare take off like that without telling me again! You had all of us worried sick!”
Ed winced.
“Yeah. I know,” he said. “Sorry. I was fine, though,” he said, giving the other a smile that didn’t feel quite as reassuring as he meant it to be.
“You were not okay,” Al returned, putting his hands on his hips. “You still aren’t. Look at you: you’re a mess! Have you been sleeping? What have you even been out there doing?”
Ed gave a small laugh: he probably did look a bit of a mess. He had been traveling for a week now, and he had sand stuck in all his parts, whether metal or not.
“Well… I passed through some of the desert towns in the east. I checked in on Youswell, they’re doing great,” he said, running a hand through his travel-grimed bangs. “Found where Rose has been hiding out. Her kid is three now, can you believe?” he said, grinning.
Al smiled, though with less enthusiasm.
“Yes, that's wonderful, I hope I can see her soon, too. But you couldn’t have just told me that, so at least I knew? Or told Roy? Or Winry? Or anybody?”
Ed’s stomach clenched. He knew who would be on the other side of his front door, and he would do just about anything before facing her down again.
“Sorry,” he said.
“I don’t mean to make you feel bad, Brother. Unless feeling bad will keep you from doing stupid things again. In that case, I definitely mean to make you feel bad,” Al said. He turned back to his bushes and bent over to pick up his bag of gardening tools, then thought better of it and stood up. When he turned back around, he gave his brother a serious look.
“Really, I’m just glad to see you again,” he said. “That’s all.” He stepped forward on the little cobblestone walkway. The elder brother stood still.
“Is, uh,” he began, eyeing the door with some trepidation, “Is Winry in there?”
“Yes,” said Al, carefully watching. “She’s been here for a few days.”
“Did you call her here?”
“Yeah. She really needed somebody to talk to about the whole thing, and I don't think she wanted to bring any of this up to Granny Pinako.”
“Yeah. I don't blame her.” Ed's eyes swept around the garden, looking at Al's work: flowers flattered the greenery in a carefully controlled riot of colors, a hundred different shades but each in their own proper place. He wondered if their beauty owed anything to his brother's alchemy skills. “What did you tell her?”
“Enough that she knows what's going on. Now she wants to talk to you, to get the rest of the story.” He paused. “Are you gonna be okay? I mean, really? I can be there while you talk to her, if you want,” he said, though Edward knew his brother well enough to get that Al didn’t really want to, and was just offering to be nice.
“I’ll be fine, Al.” He probably would. “I don’t need a babysitter. I can handle this on my own.”
Alphonse’s look said that he didn’t entirely believe Ed.
“Should I leave, then?” he asked, always accommodating. “I can go to the cinema, or to lunch or something, if you need space.”
“No, that’s fine. You can keep gardening, or whatever you want. You just shouldn’t have to be there for this.,” said Edward, nerves twinging, sickening him. Al gave him a sad look.
“Okay. But, you know, it might not be as bad as you think it’s going to be.”
Ed laughed, coarse and dry.
“Yeah?” he said, steeling himself for the last five steps to the door. He set down the suitcase and used his flesh hand to open the door. His right arm couldn’t do any more than just bend at the elbow. He wished he had been able to get his automail fixed before leaving - for the past week, every day had been a reminder of his crimes. “Well, thanks for the pep talk. I can handle it from here, though.”
Al gave him a small smile, and put a hand on the other’s shoulder.
“Of course you can. If you just explain things properly, I’m sure everything’ll be fine.”
“Right,” said Edward. Did he even want to explain things? Was there anything to explain? Were there any words that could make this better? He opened the door.
“Hey, I’m home,” he called out, looking around his living room. He kicked off his boots and hung his brown duster up on the wall rack, because Al had followed him in and was watching him with some expectation, then set his suitcase down again. No one responded at first: then Ed heard the sounds of feet on the upper floorboards.
Winry appeared at the top of the stairs, and the lump in his stomach turned to acid.
“Hey, Ed,” she said.
Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Alphonse’s expression turn strained. He gave his younger brother a questioning look, but the other just smiled and shook his head. Another time.
“Hey, Winry,” said Edward, turning his eyes back to her.
“I guess I’ll just… go back outside, then?” Al said.
“Sure. Thanks, Al.”
“No problem. If you need anything, though, come get me?”
Ed nodded. The younger man disappeared back out the front door.
“I’m glad you came back,” she said. She didn’t look at all angry, but that didn’t stop Ed’s nerves. She came down the stairs.
“Yeah?” said Edward. “I guess… you wanted to talk to me.”
She looked better than he had expected, if maybe a bit tired. He wondered how many times she had cried over him, now.
“Yeah. I did.” She paused. “You want to go to the backyard, or something? I’ve been a little cooped up inside.”
Ed almost laughed. He knew how she felt. Hadn’t that been the start of the whole problem?
“If you want,” he said, picking up his boots from beside him so he didn’t track mud across the house. She walked, barefoot, through the kitchen to the back door, and he followed her.
“How have you been?” she asked.
“Ah, the usual,” he said, slipping his shoes back on as he reached the back rug. “Been around, doing stuff.”
“I see,” she said, then paused. “I’m sorry that I made you run away.”
Ed looked at her with surprise as they passed out into the backyard sunshine together. Winry sat on the singular chair, wooden and weather-beaten.
“You’re sorry? Don’t be ridiculous,” he said, and flopped down onto the ground, crosslegged. He glared at a clump of grass. “You’ve got nothin’ to be sorry about.”
“Of course I do. I made you feel bad, and then you ran away before I had a chance to fix your arm.”
“Bad” would be one way to put it, he supposed.
“No, Winry, you don't have to apologize for anything. I ran away because I’m a coward, and because I didn’t want to have to have this conversation. The one we’re having right now.” He breathed deeply to calm himself. It didn’t work. “So let me just get this out of the way right now. I’m sorry for all the stupid shit I’ve done and said. I’m sorry I hurt you. You didn’t deserve any of this.”
“Al told me,” she said, as if she hadn’t registered his apology, “that you and Colonel - General - Mustang are in a relationship now.”
The pale ache in his throat grew.
“We were, for a little bit. I’m really sorry. I wasn’t thinking.”
“Obviously not,” she snapped. “How could you do something so stupid? How could you do something so dangerous?”
Some part of him still wanted to defend Mustang, after all of this. He couldn’t stop it.
“He’s not dangerous. He - fuck, there’s not excusing what he’s done, I guess. It wasn’t stupid because he’s dangerous, though, it was stupid because I hurt you. It was a pretty despicable thing to do.”
Her brow furrowed - she was upset, but he couldn’t tell what had caused it, precisely.
“You’re right, it was pretty awful,” she finally said. “But I don’t really blame you. He and I talked. You… told him you couldn’t see him again, didn’t you?”
Shit, he was going to have to talk to Roy properly, in person. The man deserved at least that. Ed didn’t want to. He knew the man could convince him to come back in half a second.
“Of course I did. I couldn’t just keep fucking the man who killed your parents, could I?” he said, to finally get it out into the open. He closed his eyes, braced himself for her fury.
“I’m happy that you would do that for me,” she said, though she didn’t sound happy at all. She sounded kind of dazed, and quiet. “You always did put other people’s happiness first.” She paused, exhaled. “But I have to ask you, why did you get with him in the first place?”
Edward had the vague sensation that this was some kind of test.
“Um,” he said, trying to remember past the guilt, and the fear. “He was kind to me. He took me seriously. He knows everything I’ve ever done, and he's never judged me for it. And he's smart. He kept me on my toes.”
“You keep talking in the past tense.”
“I told you, I ended it.”
“But you really cared about him, didn’t you. Care,” she corrected herself. “You really care about him.”
“I’m sorry,” he said, because what else could he say to that? “This whole thing is so fucked up.”
“I have to say that yeah, it’s a little messed up from where I’m standing.” She cocked her head to the side, straightened her shoulders. “How’s your back?”
Ed flushed.
“It’s fine,” he said to the grass. “Better than ever. Was never that bad in the first place.”
“He told me that both of you enjoyed whatever you were doing that got you those cuts,” she said, piercing. “That sounds like a rationalization to me. I don’t understand how anybody could enjoy that.”
“I don’t get it either,” he said. Wires crossed in his brain, maybe. Psychological illness. He’d always known he was fucking nuts.
“So, was he lying?”
“No,” he said, face burning. “He was telling the truth. I asked for it. I liked it. Don’t blame him.”
She stood up and moved to sit on the grass beside him. He turned his eyes up to her - she looked so sad.
“Okay,” she said. “Okay. So… he's not abusing you. You're willing. And you care about him.” She made a quiet noise, a thinking noise. “If all of these problems with me had never come up, would you still want to be in a relationship with him?”
“Um, probably,” said Edward, unable to think of anything else to say.
“Do you just like men?”
Ed shrugged and hunched over further. He put an arm around his upright knee.
“I dunno. I hadn’t really thought about it.” Sex had never really been high on his priority list. Through most of his life he had noticed attractive people in mostly an aesthetic sense, not in a sexual one. He had masturbated, of course, though with no real relish, and had never really considered sex with another person to be an option on the table before Mustang had come calling. He honestly didn’t know how to answer her.
“Please tell me that you do, even if it isn’t true,” she said, her voice wavering for the first time. Ed looked up in surprise. “That might make it a little easier for me to deal with the fact that you picked him, not me.”
As tears began to fill her eyes, everything suddenly fell in place for him. He understood why she looked at him sometimes like she expected something from him; why her smiles made him happy, but also a little bit nervous. She was in love with him, and while he loved her very much, he didn’t feel the same way.
“I’m sorry,” he said, and reached out for her, pulling her into his arms. She smelled like scented shampoo and machine oil. “I’m so sorry, Winry. I didn’t know. I can choose you, if you want. We could make it work.” She buried her face in his shoulder.
“But you don’t love me now, do you?”
“No,” he said, quiet. “I don’t. But I would try, if you wanted.”
She gave a brief laugh, and turned her face up to him.
“Oh, Ed. Of course you would. You would try, and you would keep trying until the world ended, thinking that maybe if you tried hard enough you could make it happen. But we’ve known each other for all of our lives, and you still don’t love me. I don’t think it’s ever going to happen. And if it's not going to happen, then I don't want you sticking around with me, lying to me every day that it's fine, you're happy, you love me... That would be miserable for both of us.”
Edward held her in silence, there on the grass. After a few moments, she sat up and smiled at him, tear-tracks still gleaming on her cheeks as they dried.
“Alright. I guess I can live with that,” she said. “I’m glad I know, now, so I can move on.” She paused. “So, promise me that you’ll go make things right with General Mustang. I may not understand what you two have, but I understand that it made you happy. I’m not so selfish that I could get in the way of that.”
Ed stared at her in shock.
“What?”
“You heard me. Go talk to him. Make it better.” A pause. “All I ever wanted was for you to be happy. You’re not going to be happy with me, so I shouldn’t hold you back from being happy with someone else. Right?”
Edward’s heart hurt. He wished he did love her. She was so much stronger than he was, a thousand times better of a person. He hadn’t thought for a second that she could ever forgive him.
“Are you sure?” he asked, not sure if he hoped she would keep to it or change her mind.
“Yeah. I’ve been thinking about it a lot over the past several days. I just had to make sure that everything was alright, from your own mouth. So it’s fine. You have my blessing. Just,” she said, sitting up straight, “let me have this one thing.”
Then she leaned in slowly, and kissed him. They stayed like that for a moment, his shirt clenched in her hand, and her lips soft on his.
He held her to him. It was the very least he could do.
She pulled away.
“Okay. I’m good now,” she said, smiling. Ed would have been convinced if he hadn’t known better. “I can live with that.”
“You’re amazing,” he said. He stood up, and extended a hand to help her to her feet as well. “I honestly can’t believe you,” he said, and smiled at her.
“Yeah, well, keep telling me that,” she said with a short laugh. “By the way, I have something for you,” she said.
They went inside together. Ed waited at the kitchen table for her to come back.
When she did, she had a brand new automail arm in her hands.
“Don’t you break it this time,” she said, warning. “Don’t you dare.”
Ed grinned, wide and thoughtless, and for the first time felt maybe a little bit forgiven.
“Yes ma’am,” he said, and took it from her.
***
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Whew! So that's done. Next chapter, back to our regularly scheduled porn!
If you liked, tell me! I'm not actually done writing the next chapter yet, so love and encouragement is necessary! There may also be a seriously porny epilogue type thing, if I'm feeling up to it.
Loves, and thanks for reading!