If I Should Die Chapter 20
Title: If I Should Die Chapter 20
Fandom: FMA
Pairing: Roy/Ed
Author: inugrlrayn
Rating: PG-13 (eventual R or NC-17)
Summary: I wrote this for a prompt over at the kinkmeme. The request was "Roy ends up maimed in some way, maybe from being captured/tortured; Ed is the one who finds/rescues/takes care of him" It was meant to be a oneshot, but it's run away with me. Thanks to elfen and cryogenia for read overs and edits and the like.
Disclaimer: I don't own Fullmetal Alchemist or any of its characters.
Previous parts
The rest of my fics are here.
Thursday morning, Roy woke long before the alarm. The bed was still empty, and Ed’s pillow was scrunched up in his arms. He stared out over the top of the pillowcase at the dresser, his gaze caught on the drawer he never opened, as if his vision was caught on fishhooks.
He couldn’t avoid it forever, not if he valued the life he was slowly reclaiming. There’d been time. There’d been plenty of time, but now he was counting down the days. It wasn’t something he wanted to do alone, but Harcourt had made certain that Ed would not be around to help him, and there was nothing else for it.
Roy stared at his drawer full of demons for a long time. Just as he closed his eye, no longer wishing to think about the prospect of opening it, his alarm went off, jolting him from his thoughts. With a tired frown, he reached over, silencing the contraption.
Another morning without Ed, and Roy only sighed, resigned to his silent house for however long Ed might be gone. Another ride to work with an empty seat beside him and he refused to think on it. Instead, he chatted with Havoc, who appeared to be severely hung over. Another day where Ed was in another city instead of another room, and Roy refused to spend his idle moment staring at the phone.
It did ring, not long after he’d gotten in in fact. Roy lifted the phone from its cradle and held it to his ear. He had scarcely gotten out a greeting when a voice crackled on the other end of the line. “Everything okay?”
“Fine, Ed. I’m fine,” Roy replied, letting his good eye slip shut, and the barest of smiles curve on his lips. He was getting by without Ed, but it didn’t mean Roy didn’t miss him.
“Oh… You didn’t call last night so I, umm, I…well whatever. You’re fine, so that’s good.” Ed cut off his own rambling with an audibly relieved breath.
“I got in late,” Roy murmured into the phone. There was silence on the line, just long enough for Roy to wonder how Ed was faring on his own.
“How are you holding up?” Roy felt a little guilty for not asking sooner. Ed put up such a tough façade, and sometimes it was easy to forget that he’d been hurt in all this too.
“Me? I’m… okay. I’m fine.” There was something off in Ed’s voice, but Roy couldn’t press, not here on a military line.
They talked for a while, as long as Roy thought he could get away with. Perhaps he could not loose Ed’s lips about whatever was troubling him, but he could certainly provide distraction, however fleeting it might be. Ed seemed willing enough to be pulled from his troubles, dragged easily into idle conversation.
It wasn’t enough, not when Roy wanted to reach through the phone and tug whatever was bothering Ed from his lips. Not when he wanted Ed, warm and heavy across his chest, safe in his arms. It nearly pained him to say goodbye, but he had responsibilities, and Ed had somewhere to be.
The day was long, but no worse than the one before. Roy came home to an empty house, and silly really, that it bothered him. He’d lived alone here for years, but it just wasn’t the same anymore without Ed.
That night, he stared at the drawer again, as if he expected it to open up and let out all the evil within. He had to do this, and as much as he wanted Ed around to back him up, he couldn’t wait forever. Roy took a breath and nearly reached out… but not that night. He hadn’t the strength for it just yet.
The days passed one way or another. Sometimes they flew, when his stomach turned over his gloves and his unknown opponent. Other times the minutes stretched out into eternity, when the bed was empty and cold, and Ed’s heartbeat was too far away to lull him to sleep. He was at a loss for which was more unpleasant.
A week in and Roy was tired of being haunted. He could do this, with or without Ed’s help. There were no other options left, and Roy reached out, brazenly running his fingers along the polished oak drawer despite the panic roiling in his belly. His fingers finally curled around the handle and everything hurt. His missing eye burned behind its patch, the sensation spreading down his chest. All that existed in that instant were chains and fire and mind numbing fear that clawed its way along his spine. Roy shrank back and slept on the couch that night in his rumpled uniform, unable to face remaining even in the same room.
It was two more days before he worked up the nerve to try again. Roy set his jaw, finally angry enough at his own weakness to shove past it. He stalked up the stairs and straight to the dresser, flinging the drawer violently open before he had the chance to back down.
They stared up at him, slips of fabric lying harmlessly in their drawer. Red on light, like blood smeared across pale skin, and Roy very nearly retched at the painful memory. The acrid stench of his own seared flesh stuck in his nose, and though the gloves responsible for that were tucked safely in a box beneath the others, he just couldn’t look any longer. With a defeated sigh, Roy slid the drawer shut, hanging his head in shame.
He called Ed that night, desperate to be drawn back to reality. Ed’s voice was distant and weary, as if keeping the phone to his ear was a very distinct, if worthwhile effort. No matter how Roy demanded to know the reason, Ed refused to let him share whatever burden he held on his shoulders.
“I’m fine. I’m fine, really,” Ed insisted, the lie curling unconvincingly off his tongue. Eventually, Roy conceded, too worn himself to argue, and he bid Ed goodnight. Ed sighed, a sound that hissed into the speaker, and he’d hung up before Roy caught all he mumbled afterwards. “G’night. I… miss you.”
He dialed again. It rang on Ed’s end…and kept ringing. Six, seven, eight times and Roy slumped on the couch as he finally gave up. He hung up the phone with a dismal click, wishing he at least knew what was the matter.
Four more days passed, and each one had Roy staring down at the weapon that had destroyed him just a few moments longer. He picked one up, but the scratch of ignition cloth in his palm reminded him of someone else’s fingers shrouded in it, tracing his jaw like a lover just before… Roy dropped the glove as if he’d been burned all over again, and then he was sick in earnest.
He called Ed here times that night before he got an answer. Ed’s voice was splintered, dredged in self loathing, though he was still mum as to the reason. Half an hour of wheedling only got Roy a handful of excuses, that Ed was tired, that it had been a long day, that this was a stupid mission anyway. Roy hung up when he realized how hard Ed was trying to pretend to be alright for his sake. He set down the phone so that Ed could stop pretending, distraught that there was nothing he could do from here, that maybe Ed was more damaged than he’d allowed himself to see.
Roy kept trying to face his own demons, and it was a little easier each day. Eventually, the memories were less acute, dulled enough that he could push past them. He didn’t put them on, but he ran the pad of his thumb over fabric like sandpaper and a familiar red circle, until he could do so without his stomach turning.
Ed sounded almost happy that night, if only for Roy’s success. Even Ed’s pleasant tone was subdued, and Roy wanted nothing more than to gather him up away from whatever was hurting so much. He thought he just might fry Harcourt for doing this to Ed, and angry as he was, there was a peculiar joy in that he didn’t recoil entirely from his own idle threats.
His assessment was a week and a half away when Roy decided that this needed to be finished. He took a breath and cleared his head, hoping this would be the last time that opening that drawer was a struggle. His hand brushed easily over pristine fabric, but that wasn’t what he sought this time. In the back of the drawer, his fingers finally hit the solid cardboard side of a box.
With a shaky breath, Roy wrapped his hand around the box, withdrawing it from its hiding place. It was still tied shut the way Ed had given it to him and Roy hesitated, his fingers lingering over the knot. Eventually, he plucked it loose, lifting the lid from the box.
There were the gloves that had reduced him to this, nestled harmlessly in their cardboard coffin. The white fabric was marred with dust and dirt and blood that faded to grotesque stains of reddish brown. Even through the mess, the stitched transmutation circle shone in brilliant crimson.
Roy expected to be assaulted by his nightmares, hellish memories that would never entirely heal. But that blood was not his, and maybe that was what grounded him. He closed his good and all that came was Edward, wild and vicious and dredged up from hell. Debris matted hair and eyes clouded by fury so wicked and all encompassing that Ed had murdered the man wearing Roy’s gloves, staining them in Drachman blood.
There will never be a day in my life it won’t eat at me. When I’m with you, though… it’s worth it. You remind me that I did the right thing. Roy winced at the memory, when Ed was still being strong enough for the both of them. He just wanted Ed home because for once he needed something from Roy. For all Ed had sacrificed, for every day he refused to accept Roy giving up, for every hollow, haunted moment that came from forsaking his own morals, Roy had to do this. He lifted the battered gloves from their box, took a deep breath, and slipped them onto his hands.
As foreign as it was familiar, Roy hadn’t felt the soft lining of his gloves on his fingers in months. His heart bounded and his breath was a bit ragged, but he left them there, acclimating himself to the sensation. The little, empty box on the mattress was the only witness to his success.
It was a long while before Roy realized his stomach was no longer turning threateningly. He could breathe again, and his lips quirked, if only faintly. His smile widened at the way his terror ebbed, though it hurt to realize Ed wasn’t around to share the moment.
“I knew you could do it,” Ed murmured into the phone when Roy told him. For the first time since he’d left, Roy could hear the smile in his voice. It was almost enough to make him believe that Ed was okay after all. Almost.
“How’s your mission going?” It was the wrong question to ask because Ed choked on his breath and muttered something about how it was stupid and boring and he’d try to be home soon. Gone was the smile in his voice, and the note that replaced it was hopeless and full of sorry Ed refused to admit to. When he finally said goodnight, it left Roy hollow and worried.
He wanted to wear his gloves to work, and the inclination alone was absolutely thrilling. Roy decided though, that the less Harcourt was aware of his recovery, the better. He ended up stuffing a clean pair into his pocket, feeling less vulnerable than he had in ages for that one small act.
Roy counted down the days, just a little less nervous now. He spent his days focused like he’d never really been before. His evenings were devoted to learning to compensate for a loss in depth perception. The fence and a couple of rose bushes suffered in the process, but eventually the electric crackle of alchemy was almost natural again.
Bit by bit, he was regaining something he’d lost, though he might mold it in another direction. Some days he could almost face his damaged body in the mirror… almost. Some days he thought he could eventually treat Ed like a proper lover. Some days he had an inkling of hope that he’d eventually recognize himself again.
True to Ed’s admonition, he didn’t spend all his time alone. He learned to relax, to let himself be surrounded by friends. Just maybe Ed’s absence was a bit of a blessing. For all he missed him, it forced Roy to learn to cope on his own, and cope he did. He was beginning to once again trust the team who’d stuck by him even when he couldn’t face them. Something like pride prickled along his nerves at the respect he thought he was maybe actually earning once more.
By the Friday afternoon before his assessment, Roy decided he’d mastered all he was likely too. His aim wasn’t perfect, but it was close, and his control was a great deal better than it had been even a week before. He went home intent on a relaxing evening, the start to the last weekend before his assessment.
The sun was nearly set, and Roy relaxed on the living room couch near the phone. Eventually, Ed would call, and in the meantime, he was content to wrap himself up in his reading. Banging against the door startled him from his reading, and Roy got up with a soft sigh.
Roy’s lips curled in a fond smile once he’d pulled the door open. There stood Edward, Edward who he hadn’t expected to be back even for the assessment, let alone a few days early. With what little was left of the sun firmly at Ed’s back, Roy couldn’t see the young man well. He stepped aside, ushering Ed in off the step.
“Hey,” Ed’s voice was thin and weary, and the smile fled Roy’s lips as quickly as it had come. In the foyer light, there was no hiding the shape Edward was in. Ed’s shoulders sagged, and the rest of him seemed to follow. Limp, tangled hair lay in a matted mess, long since fallen from its tie. Dirt smudged his face and his clothes, until it was impossible to tell what color that shirt had originally been.
Roy had seen Ed a wreck, and knew he was a little careless with his appearance. It was something else altogether that had him concerned. Ed smiled, inhumanely wide, but his eyes were haunted, like Roy hadn’t seen them since the first few days after his rescue.
Now wasn’t the time to demand an explanation, not when Roy was just happy to have Ed home. Without understanding what was happening though, there were no words he could offer to make anything better. Roy settled for reaching out, dragging Ed against his chest.
Ed sagged in his arms for a moment, limp and lifeless as a rag doll. Just as Roy was beginning to wonder if he’d made a mistake in leaving Ed’s demons be, mismatched arms finally rose, curling at the small of Roy’s back. Ed pressed against Roy, clinging until he made a small sound of discomfort at the sharp press of automail fingers.
“Sorry, sorry.” Ed jumped back, staring down at his metal hand as if it acted on its own accord. He seemed utterly disconnected, lost in some private purgatory even now.
“It’s fine. I’m fine,” Roy promised. This moment didn’t match up with the picture he had in his head of Edward, and the strangeness of it all left him unsettled. Ed didn’t even seem to notice he’d said anything, still staring at his hand in something like disappointment.
“Edward?” Roy tried again, reaching out to wrap his fingers around Ed’s automail shoulder. Ed didn’t respond, even as he slid his palm down a dirty, cotton sleeve. Only when he curled his hand around Ed’s outstretched one did he get any reaction at all. Bleary amber eyes finally met his gaze, utterly bereft of all their usual life.
“I’m sorry. I’m… I’m just tired. It was a long trip and… and I’m tired,” Ed mumbled, shaking his head to clear it.
Roy let what was perhaps a half truth slide, reaching to cup Ed’s dirty cheek in his palm. He wanted to demand an explanation. Instead, he leaned down, pressing a soft kiss against Ed’s rough, chapped lips. He carded his fingers through Ed’s hair, ignoring the way it was just a bit slick under his hand where it wasn’t too tangled to tell. He drew his lips away from Ed’s to murmur against his ear. “Why don’t you go get cleaned up and relax while I make dinner?”
“Sounds good,” Ed agreed quickly, some hint of his usual self showing through as he smiled again in earnest. Roy left him to it, watching only long enough to see Ed trudge up the stairs, just a little bit lighter than before.
Whether he genuinely felt better, or simply crafted a believable façade, a bath seemed to do Ed a great deal of good. Ed wandered into the kitchen and over to Roy where he stood at the stove. It was as if some of his sorrow had trickled down the drain along with the rest of the mess his mission had left him with. He draped himself against Roy’s back, pressing his face against the soft fabric of a familiar sweater. He hissed softly when he pressed nearer, but he was speaking before Roy had a chance to ask what was wrong.
“So, so good to be home,” Ed whispered, snuggling against Roy’s back. Mismatched hands laced together, linked protectively over Roy’s stomach. It was impossible to tell if he meant Central in general, or specifically Roy’s house. Still, the sentiment made something warm curl in Roy’s chest because there had been something or other long ago about not having a home, and maybe even with those weeks of heartbreaking, helpless phone calls, he’d done something good for Ed after all.
They ate dinner together in the kitchen, catching up as best they could manage. Roy picked his questions carefully, intent on preserving Ed’s more relaxed mood, at least for tonight. It came and went anyway, and each time the darkness threatened to overcome Ed’s expression, it pained Roy a little bit more.
It was tempting to stay up and just talk to Ed, because he hadn’t been able to in weeks. They had all weekend though, and Ed looked utterly exhausted, his eyes more obviously shadowed now that they weren’t obscured by dirt. A blond head leaned heavily against Roy’s shoulder as he did the dishes, fine hairs tickling Roy’s neck as they frayed. Ed reached to help, but Roy gently pulled the towels away, fearing for the safety of their dishes considering his exhaustion.
Ed was always fairly pliant when he was tired. He allowed Roy to nudge him upstairs and only just barely muddled through brushing his teeth. Roy watched him strip down to his boxers and tee shirt and crawl under the covers, too weary to even change his clothes.
Roy got dressed for bed and followed, sliding across the mattress to settle at Ed’s side. He was used to sleeping alone again, but it didn’t stop him from appreciating the pleasant warmth of Ed’s body against his. He scooted closer, rubbing his fingers against the younger man’s scalp. Ed sighed in his ear, leaning unconsciously against his hand in encouragement.
Roy combed his fingers through Ed’s hair, smiling at the pleasant hum it elicited. Ed squirmed closer, and his lips brushed over Roy’s in soft, phantom kisses. The first inkling of something shivered its way down Roy’s spine, and normally he would have drawn his lips away, fearing his own reactions.
Ed drew away with a low, content sound, and not for the first time Roy wondered how honest it was. Wasn’t Ed frustrated by now? Yet, he only rolled onto his back, relaxing against the mattress. He hardly seemed to notice when Roy’s palm slid along his belly over his shirt, as if he really wasn’t bothered at all.
It wasn’t that Roy didn’t want sometimes. The first whispers of that desire were pleasant, and more often than not he considered following through. Any more than mere consideration though, made his stomach turn threateningly, his battered mind refusing to relinquish its hold on this one last part of him.
Ed whimpered, drawing Roy’s attention. Lost in thought, he’d dragged his fingers along the hem of Ed’s shirt, toying with the folded edge. Roy blinked, nearly jerking away, but something stayed his hand. Ed was so enticingly responsive. He never asked for anything, but he willingly accepted whatever Roy offered. He was pretty like this, flushed and squirming against the covers, his lips parted as he drank in Roy’s just barely touches.
Besides, even after he’d gotten cleaned up, Ed was obviously hurting. Didn’t he deserve a moment not to hurt? Roy hoped that maybe if he focused on this, on how obviously Ed was enjoying this, he could get past the unsettling cold that always threatened. Didn’t he owe Ed that much at least? He steeled himself, for all the good it did, and refused to pull away.
Roy brushed his fingers along the edge of Ed’s shirt a moment longer, stalling perhaps. Ed’s eyes cracked open, slits of gold that fairly glowed in the low light of the beside lamp. He didn’t speak, but he gave Roy a questioning look.
“I missed you,” Roy whispered, because of all the things he could think to say, it was the only one that was remotely safe. Ed seemed to accept it, because he didn’t move away when Roy finally slid fingertips beneath his shirt.
He’d done this so many times, more elegantly, more expertly than now. Years of practice on softer curves and another form did nothing to ease the subtle shake of his hand as he memorized the heat of Ed’s skin under his hand. He could only think to cover Ed’s mouth with his own, stifling the fear that threatened with wet, frantic kisses.
Roy scraped his teeth and tongue over Ed’s bottom lip, and the sound it elicited rang temptingly in Roy’s ears. It was a low, pleading moan Roy had never heard fall from Ed’s lips as he traced the flat of Ed’s stomach and deepened their kisses.
Maybe if he just focused on doing this for Ed, he could manage. Roy firmly ignored the doubt that lingered, instead throwing himself into the task at hand. He brushed kisses along Ed’s jaw and down the hollow of his throat, reveling in the way Ed already panted and murmured appreciatively, when he’d only just begun.
If it had been only about Ed, he might have managed to fight off the inevitable. Ed’s pulse hammered away under Roy’s tongue, and he wriggled deliciously as Roy’s fingers swept across his chest. There was power to be found in rendering Ed so desperate and needy and it was nearly enough to stamp out the sick feeling coiled in Roy’s belly.
Mismatched hands reached around Roy’s sides, scrabbling at his back. Human and metal fingers slid along bare skin at the small of Roy’s back, and he jerked at the sensation. For just a moment, the only thing he could feel was violated.
It was Ed, just Ed, who was only ever good to him. Roy swallowed, and reminded himself of that over and over again, forcing himself not to stop. He hoped Ed hadn’t noticed how hard he was struggling not to pull away entirely. Maybe Ed would be too needy and lust ridden to figure it out, but when Roy dipped his head for another kiss, he was met only with the side of an obstinately set jaw.
“Ed?” Roy murmured questioningly against Ed’s ear. There was a heavy sigh, and a moment’s hesitation before Ed shifted his head so that Roy’s breath no longer washed over his throat.
“Why don’t you trust me?” Ed demanded. Though he glared at Roy, he didn’t look angry, only hurt. Roy’s stomach lurched because that had been the farthest thing from his intentions. He’d only wanted to distract Ed from whatever ailed him, but now he looked as if the entire world was crushing him under its weight.
“I do. It isn’t like that,” Roy started, not at all sure how to explain that of all the wounds to refuse to heal, this was the hardest to cope with. He couldn’t find the words to describe the war between desire and terror, affection and illness. Even flushed and panting and obviously upset, Ed still put Roy first, refusing to take anymore than he already had. His brows dipped irritably, but he still reached out to slide a hand along Roy’s shoulders.
“It is, though. I keep telling you, you don’t need to prove anything to me. I just… want you, and I don’t need anything you’re not ready to give.” Ed’s expression was earnest, and something like understanding, and heaven knew Roy didn’t deserve whatever it was that had granted him this kind of devotion.
“But I…” Roy paused, realizing belatedly that they weren’t talking about the same thing anymore. He’d thought that Ed assumed his hesitation was a lack of trust but…
“But nothing. I only ever want this to be good and… and I love you. I…haven’t I hurt enough people all on my own? So stop fucking using me to hurt yourself, because I can’t… I can’t anymore…” the words fell out in a pleading, frustrated jumble, before Ed even really seemed to realize what he’d said. Four letters never spoken and they hung, thick and sticky between him and Roy, but even with the color bright in his cheeks, and even looking like he wanted to cry about something else entirely, Ed didn’t seem inclined to take them back.
Roy blinked, waiting for Ed to correct himself as the minutes stretched awkwardly between them. Ed finally opened his mouth, but even then, it wasn’t anything Roy expected. “What are you staring at? It’s not like anything’s different. I’m not expecting… I’m not asking you to… feel the same or anything. Look, just forget that part and listen to the part where I was telling you to stop being an idiot, okay?”
Despite everything else, Roy smiled, albeit faintly. Edward might have kept going, but his mouth abruptly shut, his eyes glued to Roy’s lips. Roy shook his head because all he could do was love Ed, Ed who had looked out for him and stuck by him and come home when Roy had been so certain he wouldn’t be back in time. “I… can’t not love you, Ed.”
There was the briefest flash of a smile before it was drowned out by Ed scowling at him all over again. He tugged Roy along with him as he lay back down, squirming down beneath the comforter. He nuzzled Roy’s temple, his voice laced with affection even as he grumbled, “Idiot. Then trust me. If you’re gonna be a spazz about something, at least do it over something important.”
Roy chuckled at Ed’s choice of words in light of his usual behavior. He wisely didn’t tease because even if he felt a little bit better now, Ed was looking at him, all flat mouthed and seconds away from an outburst. It didn’t last long as Ed decided he was too weary for the upkeep.
Ed’s eyes sagged, and finally slipped shut as he rolled over, pressing his nose against Roy’s throat. His breathing began to even out almost immediately, blowing in warm little puffs against Roy’s skin. He was very nearly asleep when Roy reached to turn out the light. Roy lay in silence, and without anything left that seemed more important, he finally blurted out…”What happened to you?”
“What? That gash on my side?” Ed asked, oblivious to what Roy was actually asking. Regardless, his voice was a great deal more subdued as he volunteered explanation. “Chimera got the better of me.”
“Gash?” Roy prompted, turning the light back on. Ed squinted irritably, but he allowed Roy to hike up his shirt, exposing the damage wrought on him. A deep cut slashed across his side, and Roy was shocked that Ed had managed to hide it this long. It was stitched shut, but the area around it was mottled purple and green.
“Oh, Ed… Why didn’t you say anything?” Roy squeezed his eye shut for a moment. He tugged Ed against him, careful of the wound. Ed nuzzled against his throat, and for a moment Roy was certain it was all the answer he was going to get.
“It was going to kill me.” Ed’s voice was wracked by grief, deafening in the silence of their bedroom, though he spoke hardly above a whisper. It was enough at least, for Roy to gather that he’d killed the thing.
“You did what you had to, Ed. No one faults you for that,” Roy soothed, bewildered and intrigued by their change in roles.
“Kids, Roy. He was using kids.” Ed’s jaw clenched, and his face was pressed so hard against Roy’s throat, Roy was shocked he could still breathe. It was then that it sank in, what Ed couldn’t bring himself to admit he’d done.
“Ed… There’s nothing you could have done. It’s not like you could change them back.” Roy rubbed circles down Ed’s spine, and god he was going to fry Harcourt for putting Ed through this.
“It was probably just… just scared and I… there was still blood in my automail when I went to take a shower,” Ed choked out.
Roy combed through Ed’s hair, smoothing it with the palm of his hand. “I’m sorry, Ed. I know you did your best, but… you just can’t protect everyone.”
“I’ve never been able to protect anyone,” Ed growled bitterly, his troubled whispers muffled against Roy’s skin. “Not them, not even you.”
Fandom: FMA
Pairing: Roy/Ed
Author: inugrlrayn
Rating: PG-13 (eventual R or NC-17)
Summary: I wrote this for a prompt over at the kinkmeme. The request was "Roy ends up maimed in some way, maybe from being captured/tortured; Ed is the one who finds/rescues/takes care of him" It was meant to be a oneshot, but it's run away with me. Thanks to elfen and cryogenia for read overs and edits and the like.
Disclaimer: I don't own Fullmetal Alchemist or any of its characters.
Previous parts
The rest of my fics are here.
Thursday morning, Roy woke long before the alarm. The bed was still empty, and Ed’s pillow was scrunched up in his arms. He stared out over the top of the pillowcase at the dresser, his gaze caught on the drawer he never opened, as if his vision was caught on fishhooks.
He couldn’t avoid it forever, not if he valued the life he was slowly reclaiming. There’d been time. There’d been plenty of time, but now he was counting down the days. It wasn’t something he wanted to do alone, but Harcourt had made certain that Ed would not be around to help him, and there was nothing else for it.
Roy stared at his drawer full of demons for a long time. Just as he closed his eye, no longer wishing to think about the prospect of opening it, his alarm went off, jolting him from his thoughts. With a tired frown, he reached over, silencing the contraption.
Another morning without Ed, and Roy only sighed, resigned to his silent house for however long Ed might be gone. Another ride to work with an empty seat beside him and he refused to think on it. Instead, he chatted with Havoc, who appeared to be severely hung over. Another day where Ed was in another city instead of another room, and Roy refused to spend his idle moment staring at the phone.
It did ring, not long after he’d gotten in in fact. Roy lifted the phone from its cradle and held it to his ear. He had scarcely gotten out a greeting when a voice crackled on the other end of the line. “Everything okay?”
“Fine, Ed. I’m fine,” Roy replied, letting his good eye slip shut, and the barest of smiles curve on his lips. He was getting by without Ed, but it didn’t mean Roy didn’t miss him.
“Oh… You didn’t call last night so I, umm, I…well whatever. You’re fine, so that’s good.” Ed cut off his own rambling with an audibly relieved breath.
“I got in late,” Roy murmured into the phone. There was silence on the line, just long enough for Roy to wonder how Ed was faring on his own.
“How are you holding up?” Roy felt a little guilty for not asking sooner. Ed put up such a tough façade, and sometimes it was easy to forget that he’d been hurt in all this too.
“Me? I’m… okay. I’m fine.” There was something off in Ed’s voice, but Roy couldn’t press, not here on a military line.
They talked for a while, as long as Roy thought he could get away with. Perhaps he could not loose Ed’s lips about whatever was troubling him, but he could certainly provide distraction, however fleeting it might be. Ed seemed willing enough to be pulled from his troubles, dragged easily into idle conversation.
It wasn’t enough, not when Roy wanted to reach through the phone and tug whatever was bothering Ed from his lips. Not when he wanted Ed, warm and heavy across his chest, safe in his arms. It nearly pained him to say goodbye, but he had responsibilities, and Ed had somewhere to be.
The day was long, but no worse than the one before. Roy came home to an empty house, and silly really, that it bothered him. He’d lived alone here for years, but it just wasn’t the same anymore without Ed.
That night, he stared at the drawer again, as if he expected it to open up and let out all the evil within. He had to do this, and as much as he wanted Ed around to back him up, he couldn’t wait forever. Roy took a breath and nearly reached out… but not that night. He hadn’t the strength for it just yet.
The days passed one way or another. Sometimes they flew, when his stomach turned over his gloves and his unknown opponent. Other times the minutes stretched out into eternity, when the bed was empty and cold, and Ed’s heartbeat was too far away to lull him to sleep. He was at a loss for which was more unpleasant.
A week in and Roy was tired of being haunted. He could do this, with or without Ed’s help. There were no other options left, and Roy reached out, brazenly running his fingers along the polished oak drawer despite the panic roiling in his belly. His fingers finally curled around the handle and everything hurt. His missing eye burned behind its patch, the sensation spreading down his chest. All that existed in that instant were chains and fire and mind numbing fear that clawed its way along his spine. Roy shrank back and slept on the couch that night in his rumpled uniform, unable to face remaining even in the same room.
It was two more days before he worked up the nerve to try again. Roy set his jaw, finally angry enough at his own weakness to shove past it. He stalked up the stairs and straight to the dresser, flinging the drawer violently open before he had the chance to back down.
They stared up at him, slips of fabric lying harmlessly in their drawer. Red on light, like blood smeared across pale skin, and Roy very nearly retched at the painful memory. The acrid stench of his own seared flesh stuck in his nose, and though the gloves responsible for that were tucked safely in a box beneath the others, he just couldn’t look any longer. With a defeated sigh, Roy slid the drawer shut, hanging his head in shame.
He called Ed that night, desperate to be drawn back to reality. Ed’s voice was distant and weary, as if keeping the phone to his ear was a very distinct, if worthwhile effort. No matter how Roy demanded to know the reason, Ed refused to let him share whatever burden he held on his shoulders.
“I’m fine. I’m fine, really,” Ed insisted, the lie curling unconvincingly off his tongue. Eventually, Roy conceded, too worn himself to argue, and he bid Ed goodnight. Ed sighed, a sound that hissed into the speaker, and he’d hung up before Roy caught all he mumbled afterwards. “G’night. I… miss you.”
He dialed again. It rang on Ed’s end…and kept ringing. Six, seven, eight times and Roy slumped on the couch as he finally gave up. He hung up the phone with a dismal click, wishing he at least knew what was the matter.
Four more days passed, and each one had Roy staring down at the weapon that had destroyed him just a few moments longer. He picked one up, but the scratch of ignition cloth in his palm reminded him of someone else’s fingers shrouded in it, tracing his jaw like a lover just before… Roy dropped the glove as if he’d been burned all over again, and then he was sick in earnest.
He called Ed here times that night before he got an answer. Ed’s voice was splintered, dredged in self loathing, though he was still mum as to the reason. Half an hour of wheedling only got Roy a handful of excuses, that Ed was tired, that it had been a long day, that this was a stupid mission anyway. Roy hung up when he realized how hard Ed was trying to pretend to be alright for his sake. He set down the phone so that Ed could stop pretending, distraught that there was nothing he could do from here, that maybe Ed was more damaged than he’d allowed himself to see.
Roy kept trying to face his own demons, and it was a little easier each day. Eventually, the memories were less acute, dulled enough that he could push past them. He didn’t put them on, but he ran the pad of his thumb over fabric like sandpaper and a familiar red circle, until he could do so without his stomach turning.
Ed sounded almost happy that night, if only for Roy’s success. Even Ed’s pleasant tone was subdued, and Roy wanted nothing more than to gather him up away from whatever was hurting so much. He thought he just might fry Harcourt for doing this to Ed, and angry as he was, there was a peculiar joy in that he didn’t recoil entirely from his own idle threats.
His assessment was a week and a half away when Roy decided that this needed to be finished. He took a breath and cleared his head, hoping this would be the last time that opening that drawer was a struggle. His hand brushed easily over pristine fabric, but that wasn’t what he sought this time. In the back of the drawer, his fingers finally hit the solid cardboard side of a box.
With a shaky breath, Roy wrapped his hand around the box, withdrawing it from its hiding place. It was still tied shut the way Ed had given it to him and Roy hesitated, his fingers lingering over the knot. Eventually, he plucked it loose, lifting the lid from the box.
There were the gloves that had reduced him to this, nestled harmlessly in their cardboard coffin. The white fabric was marred with dust and dirt and blood that faded to grotesque stains of reddish brown. Even through the mess, the stitched transmutation circle shone in brilliant crimson.
Roy expected to be assaulted by his nightmares, hellish memories that would never entirely heal. But that blood was not his, and maybe that was what grounded him. He closed his good and all that came was Edward, wild and vicious and dredged up from hell. Debris matted hair and eyes clouded by fury so wicked and all encompassing that Ed had murdered the man wearing Roy’s gloves, staining them in Drachman blood.
There will never be a day in my life it won’t eat at me. When I’m with you, though… it’s worth it. You remind me that I did the right thing. Roy winced at the memory, when Ed was still being strong enough for the both of them. He just wanted Ed home because for once he needed something from Roy. For all Ed had sacrificed, for every day he refused to accept Roy giving up, for every hollow, haunted moment that came from forsaking his own morals, Roy had to do this. He lifted the battered gloves from their box, took a deep breath, and slipped them onto his hands.
As foreign as it was familiar, Roy hadn’t felt the soft lining of his gloves on his fingers in months. His heart bounded and his breath was a bit ragged, but he left them there, acclimating himself to the sensation. The little, empty box on the mattress was the only witness to his success.
It was a long while before Roy realized his stomach was no longer turning threateningly. He could breathe again, and his lips quirked, if only faintly. His smile widened at the way his terror ebbed, though it hurt to realize Ed wasn’t around to share the moment.
“I knew you could do it,” Ed murmured into the phone when Roy told him. For the first time since he’d left, Roy could hear the smile in his voice. It was almost enough to make him believe that Ed was okay after all. Almost.
“How’s your mission going?” It was the wrong question to ask because Ed choked on his breath and muttered something about how it was stupid and boring and he’d try to be home soon. Gone was the smile in his voice, and the note that replaced it was hopeless and full of sorry Ed refused to admit to. When he finally said goodnight, it left Roy hollow and worried.
He wanted to wear his gloves to work, and the inclination alone was absolutely thrilling. Roy decided though, that the less Harcourt was aware of his recovery, the better. He ended up stuffing a clean pair into his pocket, feeling less vulnerable than he had in ages for that one small act.
Roy counted down the days, just a little less nervous now. He spent his days focused like he’d never really been before. His evenings were devoted to learning to compensate for a loss in depth perception. The fence and a couple of rose bushes suffered in the process, but eventually the electric crackle of alchemy was almost natural again.
Bit by bit, he was regaining something he’d lost, though he might mold it in another direction. Some days he could almost face his damaged body in the mirror… almost. Some days he thought he could eventually treat Ed like a proper lover. Some days he had an inkling of hope that he’d eventually recognize himself again.
True to Ed’s admonition, he didn’t spend all his time alone. He learned to relax, to let himself be surrounded by friends. Just maybe Ed’s absence was a bit of a blessing. For all he missed him, it forced Roy to learn to cope on his own, and cope he did. He was beginning to once again trust the team who’d stuck by him even when he couldn’t face them. Something like pride prickled along his nerves at the respect he thought he was maybe actually earning once more.
By the Friday afternoon before his assessment, Roy decided he’d mastered all he was likely too. His aim wasn’t perfect, but it was close, and his control was a great deal better than it had been even a week before. He went home intent on a relaxing evening, the start to the last weekend before his assessment.
The sun was nearly set, and Roy relaxed on the living room couch near the phone. Eventually, Ed would call, and in the meantime, he was content to wrap himself up in his reading. Banging against the door startled him from his reading, and Roy got up with a soft sigh.
Roy’s lips curled in a fond smile once he’d pulled the door open. There stood Edward, Edward who he hadn’t expected to be back even for the assessment, let alone a few days early. With what little was left of the sun firmly at Ed’s back, Roy couldn’t see the young man well. He stepped aside, ushering Ed in off the step.
“Hey,” Ed’s voice was thin and weary, and the smile fled Roy’s lips as quickly as it had come. In the foyer light, there was no hiding the shape Edward was in. Ed’s shoulders sagged, and the rest of him seemed to follow. Limp, tangled hair lay in a matted mess, long since fallen from its tie. Dirt smudged his face and his clothes, until it was impossible to tell what color that shirt had originally been.
Roy had seen Ed a wreck, and knew he was a little careless with his appearance. It was something else altogether that had him concerned. Ed smiled, inhumanely wide, but his eyes were haunted, like Roy hadn’t seen them since the first few days after his rescue.
Now wasn’t the time to demand an explanation, not when Roy was just happy to have Ed home. Without understanding what was happening though, there were no words he could offer to make anything better. Roy settled for reaching out, dragging Ed against his chest.
Ed sagged in his arms for a moment, limp and lifeless as a rag doll. Just as Roy was beginning to wonder if he’d made a mistake in leaving Ed’s demons be, mismatched arms finally rose, curling at the small of Roy’s back. Ed pressed against Roy, clinging until he made a small sound of discomfort at the sharp press of automail fingers.
“Sorry, sorry.” Ed jumped back, staring down at his metal hand as if it acted on its own accord. He seemed utterly disconnected, lost in some private purgatory even now.
“It’s fine. I’m fine,” Roy promised. This moment didn’t match up with the picture he had in his head of Edward, and the strangeness of it all left him unsettled. Ed didn’t even seem to notice he’d said anything, still staring at his hand in something like disappointment.
“Edward?” Roy tried again, reaching out to wrap his fingers around Ed’s automail shoulder. Ed didn’t respond, even as he slid his palm down a dirty, cotton sleeve. Only when he curled his hand around Ed’s outstretched one did he get any reaction at all. Bleary amber eyes finally met his gaze, utterly bereft of all their usual life.
“I’m sorry. I’m… I’m just tired. It was a long trip and… and I’m tired,” Ed mumbled, shaking his head to clear it.
Roy let what was perhaps a half truth slide, reaching to cup Ed’s dirty cheek in his palm. He wanted to demand an explanation. Instead, he leaned down, pressing a soft kiss against Ed’s rough, chapped lips. He carded his fingers through Ed’s hair, ignoring the way it was just a bit slick under his hand where it wasn’t too tangled to tell. He drew his lips away from Ed’s to murmur against his ear. “Why don’t you go get cleaned up and relax while I make dinner?”
“Sounds good,” Ed agreed quickly, some hint of his usual self showing through as he smiled again in earnest. Roy left him to it, watching only long enough to see Ed trudge up the stairs, just a little bit lighter than before.
Whether he genuinely felt better, or simply crafted a believable façade, a bath seemed to do Ed a great deal of good. Ed wandered into the kitchen and over to Roy where he stood at the stove. It was as if some of his sorrow had trickled down the drain along with the rest of the mess his mission had left him with. He draped himself against Roy’s back, pressing his face against the soft fabric of a familiar sweater. He hissed softly when he pressed nearer, but he was speaking before Roy had a chance to ask what was wrong.
“So, so good to be home,” Ed whispered, snuggling against Roy’s back. Mismatched hands laced together, linked protectively over Roy’s stomach. It was impossible to tell if he meant Central in general, or specifically Roy’s house. Still, the sentiment made something warm curl in Roy’s chest because there had been something or other long ago about not having a home, and maybe even with those weeks of heartbreaking, helpless phone calls, he’d done something good for Ed after all.
They ate dinner together in the kitchen, catching up as best they could manage. Roy picked his questions carefully, intent on preserving Ed’s more relaxed mood, at least for tonight. It came and went anyway, and each time the darkness threatened to overcome Ed’s expression, it pained Roy a little bit more.
It was tempting to stay up and just talk to Ed, because he hadn’t been able to in weeks. They had all weekend though, and Ed looked utterly exhausted, his eyes more obviously shadowed now that they weren’t obscured by dirt. A blond head leaned heavily against Roy’s shoulder as he did the dishes, fine hairs tickling Roy’s neck as they frayed. Ed reached to help, but Roy gently pulled the towels away, fearing for the safety of their dishes considering his exhaustion.
Ed was always fairly pliant when he was tired. He allowed Roy to nudge him upstairs and only just barely muddled through brushing his teeth. Roy watched him strip down to his boxers and tee shirt and crawl under the covers, too weary to even change his clothes.
Roy got dressed for bed and followed, sliding across the mattress to settle at Ed’s side. He was used to sleeping alone again, but it didn’t stop him from appreciating the pleasant warmth of Ed’s body against his. He scooted closer, rubbing his fingers against the younger man’s scalp. Ed sighed in his ear, leaning unconsciously against his hand in encouragement.
Roy combed his fingers through Ed’s hair, smiling at the pleasant hum it elicited. Ed squirmed closer, and his lips brushed over Roy’s in soft, phantom kisses. The first inkling of something shivered its way down Roy’s spine, and normally he would have drawn his lips away, fearing his own reactions.
Ed drew away with a low, content sound, and not for the first time Roy wondered how honest it was. Wasn’t Ed frustrated by now? Yet, he only rolled onto his back, relaxing against the mattress. He hardly seemed to notice when Roy’s palm slid along his belly over his shirt, as if he really wasn’t bothered at all.
It wasn’t that Roy didn’t want sometimes. The first whispers of that desire were pleasant, and more often than not he considered following through. Any more than mere consideration though, made his stomach turn threateningly, his battered mind refusing to relinquish its hold on this one last part of him.
Ed whimpered, drawing Roy’s attention. Lost in thought, he’d dragged his fingers along the hem of Ed’s shirt, toying with the folded edge. Roy blinked, nearly jerking away, but something stayed his hand. Ed was so enticingly responsive. He never asked for anything, but he willingly accepted whatever Roy offered. He was pretty like this, flushed and squirming against the covers, his lips parted as he drank in Roy’s just barely touches.
Besides, even after he’d gotten cleaned up, Ed was obviously hurting. Didn’t he deserve a moment not to hurt? Roy hoped that maybe if he focused on this, on how obviously Ed was enjoying this, he could get past the unsettling cold that always threatened. Didn’t he owe Ed that much at least? He steeled himself, for all the good it did, and refused to pull away.
Roy brushed his fingers along the edge of Ed’s shirt a moment longer, stalling perhaps. Ed’s eyes cracked open, slits of gold that fairly glowed in the low light of the beside lamp. He didn’t speak, but he gave Roy a questioning look.
“I missed you,” Roy whispered, because of all the things he could think to say, it was the only one that was remotely safe. Ed seemed to accept it, because he didn’t move away when Roy finally slid fingertips beneath his shirt.
He’d done this so many times, more elegantly, more expertly than now. Years of practice on softer curves and another form did nothing to ease the subtle shake of his hand as he memorized the heat of Ed’s skin under his hand. He could only think to cover Ed’s mouth with his own, stifling the fear that threatened with wet, frantic kisses.
Roy scraped his teeth and tongue over Ed’s bottom lip, and the sound it elicited rang temptingly in Roy’s ears. It was a low, pleading moan Roy had never heard fall from Ed’s lips as he traced the flat of Ed’s stomach and deepened their kisses.
Maybe if he just focused on doing this for Ed, he could manage. Roy firmly ignored the doubt that lingered, instead throwing himself into the task at hand. He brushed kisses along Ed’s jaw and down the hollow of his throat, reveling in the way Ed already panted and murmured appreciatively, when he’d only just begun.
If it had been only about Ed, he might have managed to fight off the inevitable. Ed’s pulse hammered away under Roy’s tongue, and he wriggled deliciously as Roy’s fingers swept across his chest. There was power to be found in rendering Ed so desperate and needy and it was nearly enough to stamp out the sick feeling coiled in Roy’s belly.
Mismatched hands reached around Roy’s sides, scrabbling at his back. Human and metal fingers slid along bare skin at the small of Roy’s back, and he jerked at the sensation. For just a moment, the only thing he could feel was violated.
It was Ed, just Ed, who was only ever good to him. Roy swallowed, and reminded himself of that over and over again, forcing himself not to stop. He hoped Ed hadn’t noticed how hard he was struggling not to pull away entirely. Maybe Ed would be too needy and lust ridden to figure it out, but when Roy dipped his head for another kiss, he was met only with the side of an obstinately set jaw.
“Ed?” Roy murmured questioningly against Ed’s ear. There was a heavy sigh, and a moment’s hesitation before Ed shifted his head so that Roy’s breath no longer washed over his throat.
“Why don’t you trust me?” Ed demanded. Though he glared at Roy, he didn’t look angry, only hurt. Roy’s stomach lurched because that had been the farthest thing from his intentions. He’d only wanted to distract Ed from whatever ailed him, but now he looked as if the entire world was crushing him under its weight.
“I do. It isn’t like that,” Roy started, not at all sure how to explain that of all the wounds to refuse to heal, this was the hardest to cope with. He couldn’t find the words to describe the war between desire and terror, affection and illness. Even flushed and panting and obviously upset, Ed still put Roy first, refusing to take anymore than he already had. His brows dipped irritably, but he still reached out to slide a hand along Roy’s shoulders.
“It is, though. I keep telling you, you don’t need to prove anything to me. I just… want you, and I don’t need anything you’re not ready to give.” Ed’s expression was earnest, and something like understanding, and heaven knew Roy didn’t deserve whatever it was that had granted him this kind of devotion.
“But I…” Roy paused, realizing belatedly that they weren’t talking about the same thing anymore. He’d thought that Ed assumed his hesitation was a lack of trust but…
“But nothing. I only ever want this to be good and… and I love you. I…haven’t I hurt enough people all on my own? So stop fucking using me to hurt yourself, because I can’t… I can’t anymore…” the words fell out in a pleading, frustrated jumble, before Ed even really seemed to realize what he’d said. Four letters never spoken and they hung, thick and sticky between him and Roy, but even with the color bright in his cheeks, and even looking like he wanted to cry about something else entirely, Ed didn’t seem inclined to take them back.
Roy blinked, waiting for Ed to correct himself as the minutes stretched awkwardly between them. Ed finally opened his mouth, but even then, it wasn’t anything Roy expected. “What are you staring at? It’s not like anything’s different. I’m not expecting… I’m not asking you to… feel the same or anything. Look, just forget that part and listen to the part where I was telling you to stop being an idiot, okay?”
Despite everything else, Roy smiled, albeit faintly. Edward might have kept going, but his mouth abruptly shut, his eyes glued to Roy’s lips. Roy shook his head because all he could do was love Ed, Ed who had looked out for him and stuck by him and come home when Roy had been so certain he wouldn’t be back in time. “I… can’t not love you, Ed.”
There was the briefest flash of a smile before it was drowned out by Ed scowling at him all over again. He tugged Roy along with him as he lay back down, squirming down beneath the comforter. He nuzzled Roy’s temple, his voice laced with affection even as he grumbled, “Idiot. Then trust me. If you’re gonna be a spazz about something, at least do it over something important.”
Roy chuckled at Ed’s choice of words in light of his usual behavior. He wisely didn’t tease because even if he felt a little bit better now, Ed was looking at him, all flat mouthed and seconds away from an outburst. It didn’t last long as Ed decided he was too weary for the upkeep.
Ed’s eyes sagged, and finally slipped shut as he rolled over, pressing his nose against Roy’s throat. His breathing began to even out almost immediately, blowing in warm little puffs against Roy’s skin. He was very nearly asleep when Roy reached to turn out the light. Roy lay in silence, and without anything left that seemed more important, he finally blurted out…”What happened to you?”
“What? That gash on my side?” Ed asked, oblivious to what Roy was actually asking. Regardless, his voice was a great deal more subdued as he volunteered explanation. “Chimera got the better of me.”
“Gash?” Roy prompted, turning the light back on. Ed squinted irritably, but he allowed Roy to hike up his shirt, exposing the damage wrought on him. A deep cut slashed across his side, and Roy was shocked that Ed had managed to hide it this long. It was stitched shut, but the area around it was mottled purple and green.
“Oh, Ed… Why didn’t you say anything?” Roy squeezed his eye shut for a moment. He tugged Ed against him, careful of the wound. Ed nuzzled against his throat, and for a moment Roy was certain it was all the answer he was going to get.
“It was going to kill me.” Ed’s voice was wracked by grief, deafening in the silence of their bedroom, though he spoke hardly above a whisper. It was enough at least, for Roy to gather that he’d killed the thing.
“You did what you had to, Ed. No one faults you for that,” Roy soothed, bewildered and intrigued by their change in roles.
“Kids, Roy. He was using kids.” Ed’s jaw clenched, and his face was pressed so hard against Roy’s throat, Roy was shocked he could still breathe. It was then that it sank in, what Ed couldn’t bring himself to admit he’d done.
“Ed… There’s nothing you could have done. It’s not like you could change them back.” Roy rubbed circles down Ed’s spine, and god he was going to fry Harcourt for putting Ed through this.
“It was probably just… just scared and I… there was still blood in my automail when I went to take a shower,” Ed choked out.
Roy combed through Ed’s hair, smoothing it with the palm of his hand. “I’m sorry, Ed. I know you did your best, but… you just can’t protect everyone.”
“I’ve never been able to protect anyone,” Ed growled bitterly, his troubled whispers muffled against Roy’s skin. “Not them, not even you.”