Erised
This is the second of this massive fan fiction event pieces, and is paired with an awesome piece that i will include as soon as i have the artist's permission to do so.
Title: Erised
Author: Debra Colvin
Genre: Action Adventure Drama
Rating: PG-13,
Word Count: 7314
Pairing/Characters: some Roy/Ed
Warnings: Implied same sex relationship, some male/male kissing
Summary: Ed is stuck on the other side with Al, and has carved out a life he is determined to keep. A slight Harry Potter crossover-- sorry, Harry is does not make an appearance, the time line does not allow it.
A/N>> I have a Harry Potter crossover with Full Metal Alchemist over at ff.net that I have yet to get back to. This piece may or may not fit into that universe. It could also be stand alone.<<<
Erised.
Edward Elric was not a happy camper.
The sun peeked over the distant trees as he crouched down, blending into the shadow of the first decorative hedge. Massive and wasteful, with vast sweeping stone arches just about everywhere and an amble amount of giant windows, this thing that was called a castle was the entire reason that Ed was bothering with this country at all. He hated it already, and his toes had yet to crunch against the fine gravel that likely covered the elaborate cloistered courtyard beyond the towering wall.
Of course, to even get past that barrier and within building to begin his search at all, he had to first somehow cross the big ass lake that he was told was called a” moat”.
“Gotta be kidding me...” he hissed softly in his home tongue. He snarled as he darted his gaze about. He had been under the impression that a moat looked more like a ditch or at most a steam, not something like this. “Greaaat. A fucking lake, great.”, he added, and began to move, slightly favoring his left leg with each shift of his feet. He kept his head low from long practice, and followed the hedge around, making not a sound in the dew covered, and overly neat cropped grass. He made it to a rather large boulder just as he glimpsed movement above him.
He crouched low again hiding amongst the dwindling shadows and held his breath. He watched as the three darkly draped figures, clearly astride brooms, flew gracefully over the stinking large lake. He scowled at that ease that these folks broke the rules he lived by.
The haunted part of the castle was just a cover story then, with these weirdoes in the flapping cloaks and long dresses around. The lack of Equivalence annoyed him, but it proved that a powerful alchemic amplifier, such as the damned philosopher’s stone, was nearby. He supposed that whatever it was, it had to be in the stupid castle, somewhere. He had to go in to find it, to destroy it.
Those weirdoes liked to call themselves wizards, and a select few knew of Ed’s existence. Even fewer knew that he did not belong in this world. That fact made him something special in their eyes, something special in the sense that he had something they considered to be like caviar in him. In his blood, in his heart, whatever, which was disgusting to think about, really, and who knew what that really meant. Not that he cared all that much about it, but he had Alphonse to consider.
Yes. There were friendly wizards, and he knew that he remained on friendly terms with them. Since he learned of the caviar thing, he decided to not let his baby brother anywhere near wizard types if he could help it. Just to be safe. He didn’t want to be responsible for any deaths should the bad ones decide to off the good ones just to get his caviar thing. Or worse, Al’s caviar thing..
He wrinkled his nose up at the thought.
Moments later he spotted it, the way around the big ass lake. Here and there, he could make out dark shadows in the shining water that did not move-perhaps they were what they appeared to be: large flat rocks? With a quick glance around that included a good look up, (to make sure that the way was clear), he dashed off.
Several steps later, he sputtered to a halt. A single leaf fluttered in the air before him, and as he stood upon the tips of his very toes, waving his arms wildly to keep his balance, he held his breath.
He had not been in deep water in years due to his status of having automail installed upon his person. Water and automail was inherently a bad mix, and he well knew the risk of drowning from the sheer weight of his devices dragging him under.
But this, this was the air, the land, and..and he knew it was just bad. Real bad. A slight shimmering graced the leaf, now but an inch from his right shoe, and everything within his sight sort wavered and wiggled. He would recall later that what it looked like. It reminded him of how things appear under water, and something very heavy suddenly dropped right in beside you.
He watched leaf quietly go poof, and vanish like ash in a gale. In that moment he riffled through the Gate knowledge crammed in his skull and belatedly identified the barrier as something called a “house ward”, a pretty damned powerful one. He cursed his luck as he was flung backwards from the shockwave. Airborne for several seconds, his breath gushed out of his lungs as his back smacked against the nearby boulder with the rest of him.
He grimaced, forcing away the pain, and lost track of time. He didn’t need to see the billowing of robe-dresses appearing around him with a pop of displaced air to know he had to move and move now.
He managed a roll to his side somehow, but blinked stupidly at the stick being pointed at him. He had the time to curl his upper lip in disgust before a red colored flash of a discharge blinded him.
ooooo
The next thing Ed knew, he had this terrible kink in his neck, and well, the ground he was laying on was too hard to be anything else but stone. He heard voices speaking above and around him. There was this echo to the voices, and the slightest of sounds bounced about, which told him that the room or whatever was a rather spacious one. He was on his right side, and he could feel the uneven ridges of his stupid artificial arm digging into his ribs with each breath he took. That is until something like rope wound its way about his neck and jerked him up.
“We know that you are awake.” A deep baritone rumbled, and added with a tone of disgust. “Muggle.”
Ed clawed at the thing about his neck, and his eyes were kind of squeezed shut as he gasped and kicked out with both of his legs. He landed no blows, and before long, his feet were no longer within the ground’s reach. By then, he figured out that the language the freaks were speaking was called “Czech” or something, and the reason he could understand it was because of the Gate.
“Let us all have fun, Darius.” Another voice called out nearby. He saw a flash of orange light though his eyelids, and hissed at the burning pain he felt spreading across his chest. Raucous laughter filled his ears as he darted his eyes down and saw a several slashes in the dark shirt he wore. He scowled down at the lot of stick wavers, and counted their number as somewhere below a dozen.
“Let go. Me” he said in broken Czech, his tongue feeling like it was twisted in knots to make the words form. The gate may have provided the knowledge of the language, but practicing it was an entirely different matter. Another flash of orange from the stick waver in the corner, this one striking his right arm. He curled into the injuries anyway, and heard more mocking laughter. As he floated in midair, he heard something wet dripping against rock, and glimpsed a red spot growing on the floor beneath him.
Blue lightening flashed, and Ed widened his eyes and looked about by reflex. The discharge danced down and about, over nearly every surface. A second later, the nearest wall transformed into searching stone fingers, which quickly then became jutting stone fists. One stone hand smacked a rail thing cloak draped fellow against some solid looking stairs that Ed hadn’t noticed before, and he crashed into the ground almost immediately afterwards.
“Brother!” Ed heard a young boy cry out a fraction of a second before a deafening rumble made any speech pointless. He coughed away the billowing of dust as the telltale hallow clanking grew louder.
“I’m fine Al.” he said in his home tongue with a reassuring smile plastered on his face. He glanced up. “Just a few bruises...and…” He found that he could not continue speaking at the glowing red eyes within the metal helm, and lowered his brows as he took a good look through the dust. His brother’s voice had indeed echoed out of that thing, and the metal construct was shaped into a suit of armor.
No.. He can’t be . Ed’s eyes widened fractionally, and then narrowed, picking out a lack of Alchemical marks on the gleaming gauntlets. Missing were the considerable spikes on the shoulder guards, and also, this particular armor was not quite so towering.
“I’m sorry I took so long, Brother, and I know you told me not to use Alchemy, but you see...”
“Damn it Al, the hell did you find that thing?” Ed began, and added. ”And why are you back in armor at all..?”
He grit his teeth as an orange flash flared along with a green, and this time they ricocheted harmlessly off the low wall beside them both. Boy, were these guys predictable.
“Screw it. We’ll talk about it later.” Ed growled. “Get out of here Al.”
“Brother…?”
“I’ve had it with these guys, ok?”
“Just don’t overdo it, ok, brother? I mean it.” Let hanging in the air was the unspoken reminder of his promise to his dearest brother to never kill anyone should he be able to help it.
“Fine, Al. “ Ed sighed, and wrinkled up his nose. “Just go. ”
The red eyes vanished, and the suit of armor quivered a moment before it loudly collapsed.
“Al..?” Ed said softly at the heap, and swallowed back his dread. He hoped Alphonse knew what he was doing. That stunt of Al’s Alchemy really scared the shit out of him.
He grinned evilly at the stone walls, and slapped his hands together; looking as though he were at prayer for a moment before he unleashed the equation he formed within his mind.
ooooo
The earth reformed as the golden discharge danced around him, shaping itself according to his will. He gingerly poked his nose beyond the lip of his hole, and darted his eyes about. This was not the first time he had tunneled to break into a place, and at least this time he had something of a map. In the local records, he had found an architectural sketch drawn up a few centuries ago, but with the freaky weirdoes taking residence in this castle, those plans were not exactly valid. Besides, he had yet to work out where he was in this place.
Well exactly anyway. He was a least several floors down from where he started, and he had the bruises to prove it from the sudden unexpected drops. He glanced up at the ceiling as the stone groaned dangerous warnings, tempted for a moment to duck back down and tunnel about some more. He saw no telltale cracks just yet, so the damage had yet to reach this far down. Wherever he looked was dark shadows and gloom, and he gradually was able to pick out details.
The walls were tall and narrow, and silvery white sheets draped over most things in the room. No, it was a hall. There was no movement, or voices, and the only sound echoing at the moment was his breathing.
There were methods in his head, provided by the Gate, that were for expanding a room greatly in size on the inside while keeping the outside the same. At least with this stupid magic around, he could make use of the lingering energies. To him, that meant this “magic” was actually Alchemy of some sort, even if it didn’t look the same. Or work the same.
Those weirdoes liked using sticks for their Alchemy after all. Sticks and a mishmash of nonsensical words that he suspected were largely made up. Most of the lot were total wimps too.
“Screaming like girls at a little thing like a spike through the hand…” Ed whispered in his native tongue as he climbed out of his spider hole. As he rose to his feet, his artificial left knee made a whirling sound. He limped over to the nearest wall for support as the mechanism within decided to make a series of clicks. He grimaced as he pressed a free hand to his wounds on his chest, and looked down at his fingers to the slick redness. He pressed his palm down more firmly as he raised his gaze. He reached for the nearest sheet, and pulled it free. As he wadded the sheet one handed and pressed it to the wounds, he assessed himself. He wasn’t dizzy quite yet, but the mess he was dripping alarmed him a little.
He startled at some movement he caught by the corner of his eye, and backed into a fight stance. He abandoned the pose as he saw his own face, reflected back in silver. The mirror was a huge one, towering over him as it was on the massive wall, and at the very base he made out some letters.
E R I S E D
Without much thought, he idly traced one bloody finger over the “R”.
ooooo
In Central, along a quiet side road stood a half a dozen handsome town houses, and each building boasted of elegance, and could easily be the finest of the block; however only one served its purpose well, much like the act of a mask he removed each night at the doorstep. This was the townhouse that the famed Flame Alchemist, one Brigadier General Roy Mustang, referred to as home.
On the floor before the entrance lay his golden cords, which served to designate his lofty rank, attached as they were most firmly to one shoulder of his formal heavy jacket. The garment would remain there until he was damned good and ready to retrieve it, possibly before the morning light a few days from now.
He wore his formerly crisp, white military dress shirt with the long sleeves and not so tidy cuffs, blue cavalry skirt-- which served to cover the matching blue slacks of his uniform-- and deepening wrinkles in the heavy fabric-- which further marred his appearance-- as he slumped down to the gloom of the lush carpet by the nestled fireplace of the amply large living room. His pale complexion still nicely complemented the raven black hair he kept shorn military grade short, and the strap, attached to the great and striking eye patch which covered much of the nastier looking scars on his face, hardly mussed a single strand out of place. He knew that he was considered handsome, once.
At the moment, he did not give a damn, for Roy Mustang did not want to think. He was far too sober and the bottle in his grasp was far too empty. He moaned his displeasure at his pathetic predicament, and lifted his chin to set it upon the plushy, red cushion. He stared a while, uncomprehendingly, at the fancy back of the chair the cushion was attached to. The simple wooden construct was no porcelain god, but then, he was an Alchemist, and did not believe in gods anyway. His stomach was not nearly swirling enough to need the “pristine enough” bowl to catch anything, at the moment.
Why anyone would call a simple porcelain bowl filled with water, by the means of some sort of pump, any kind of god anyway? He considered it could be a throwback to uncivilized ways, or may be the sordid influence of the Drachman culture from the north.
Uncivilized ways.
It was said that those in the north had gods for everything. Fullmetal.
He breathed in a shaking breath.
Fullmetal had once brought back the evidence of a god that had the job of swallowing bowel movements and, for a while, the office was alive with all sorts of toilet related humor of how that sort of thing would work out.
It was a happy memory. One of his very few ones, and even though Fullmetal was gone now, he clung to it. He and Fullmetal were both highly entertained for a good month or so, regardless of the outrageousness of the imagery which was loudly shared amongst his staff. And sadly, at this moment, he could not recall a single one of those “theroues”.
No “theries”.
Oh the truth of it was, he was a good ways too drunk to even think of the right word to refer the colorful stories his subordinates had conjured up over the subject.
He closed his remaining eye and let out a great shuddering breath. He could smell the rich stink of the alcohol tainting his tongue, but found still, this night as empty as his bottle. He frowned at the odd train of thought his brain had inexplicitly ran down. Which only proved.
Yep.
He was not yet drunk enough to not have a single thought. That was his goal this night, after all.
What he needed, really needed, right now, was another bottle of scotch. Or whiskey. Maybe he would mix both together and make it a scotch whiskey, the bastard child of both. Yes. What did he care if all his nose hairs could and would singe away, bit by bit, with every mouth full of the foul tasting stuff. He was Roy Mustang, was he not? Here he was, after all these years of effort, just a few seats away from actually being Furher of this damned lie of a country, and dammit, tonight he was going to get blind stinking drunk. And what’s more, he was going bring every bit of his lofty ambition to bear to do so. Dammit. Desperate men like he would never be knocked down by insignificant things like having and empty bottle of alcohol in their lonely grasp, no.
Certainly not.
With that most weighty of decisions made, Roy felt the corners of his mouth tug down. His grip on the empty bottle loosened and he cracked open is one good eye. He studied the fine lines in the flowing pattern worked into the rich upholstery fabric, and wondered for a hazy moment, why he was drinking in the first place. Ah. He knew that answer. He knew it well. There was no longer any one to watch his back. In short, he was utterly alone. He was, finally in truth, a train wreck instead of the shadow of a man he once thought he was.
Oh. Yeah. That’s it. He was far too sober. He shifted his weight and heard the empty clattering of glass upon some hard surface. He shifted his gaze to watch the bottle roll a ways, as if it too were abandoning him. The glass bumbled to a stop by a wooden leg that was attached to a low table in the far corner.
Damn it all.
He was far too neat for a man. This whole apartment of his. It was too altogether too tidy. The way it was now, he would forever be reminded. No matter where he was in here, he would always remember her.
This would not do.
Her absence. That was why he was drinking. This night. He lost Riza Hawkeye. Oh. She was still very much still breathing. He saw her in the halls that evening, walking about and all. But the way she looked at him, the way she looked his way, it had turned icy. Cold. She knew that he was ultimately responsible, and what was worse, he knew it too.
He let out a breath. He knew that he was a sinner, but still, he shambled up. He used the chair as a sort of brace, shifting his way back to his wobbling feet. He idly watched the world perform a brief pirouette before he reached out, flailing with both hands, and then clamped them onto something sturdy. As he stumbled for the rest of his balance, he did not look to what he grabbed, expecting it to be an inanimate thing like a couch, a bookcase, hell, even a table.
Though that would be stretching things for a table to be that tall, as his hands were situated quite comfortably at about his waist in height. He himself could never have ever have bought a table that tall, for he always had thought such a table would be ridiculous to have. Useless even. Except perhaps as a thing which would only collect dust and oddball assortment of knickknacks that he certainly was not at all inclined to collect. No. This contraption could certainly not be any table which he had personally purchased that he had his palms resting upon. The surface was quite solid, though, and for that, he was grateful.
He knew his mind was rambling full of nonsense, but what of it. He was alone in his own domain, secure and all but able to fall to pieces in the absolute privacy of his own hard earned dwelling. Such was the privilege of having a high rank in the military.
“You sorry ass idiot.”
He felt his lower jaw drop, as if in response, but his brain offered no retort. It struck him that he was once thought to be a brilliant tactician, but at the moment he found himself anything but. He blinked his one good eye several times, and even narrowed the lids as he tried his mightiest to form something of a coherent thought in his alcohol muddled brain.
For you see, it was within anyone’s understanding for him to react in such a manner when said piece of furniture, the very one that he was depending on for his continued balance, had managed to speak aloud.
There it was. A blur of some sort, that between one blink and the next arranged itself into a familiar form of a face, but try as he might, he could not place it. And how did such a face come to be in his private of sanctum of places to reside anyhow. He was a single man. He prided his privacy. Everyone knew this.
The voice that had spoken... He knew it too. It was gravelly. Yet young, which was why he supposed he was not on the offensive.
“Oh. You are offensive, believe me. Come on. Let’s get you...”
The voice continued but the sarcastic tone of it tickled his fog of memories. He knew this voice. Strong hands shaped into being and guided him along. Bewildered as he was, he allowed them to. The hands were rough, but kind, and almost gentle. He shuffled and staggered, and a few dozen steps later he swung one of his arms out to catch himself upon the wall. He stood in his own darkened hall, and watched the world as it once again danced about him.
He blinked stupidly at a sudden bright light, and heart beats passed before he recognized the open door of his hall way bath. He waited for the world to stop the dancing, and watched the other person who was with him (for some reason he couldn’t fathom) move about as if he were not bothered at all with the world’s whirling ways.
What a marvelous ability. To not notice when the world danced about the head of a pin, he thought.
He heard the other voice again, but could not make out much of what was said. Just the sarcastic tone, and of course, the snicker that followed. No that was no snicker that the voice performed. That was mocking laughter. Out right mocking laughter. He had not heard such mocking laughter in...
How long had it been?
No... He did not want to think. Not tonight of all the nights. He was supposed to be all alone. Besides.
He. He could not be here. There was no way. He was supposed to be... he was supposed to be…
His brows lowered and he chewed on his lower lip as he stood in his own hall way, leaning on to his palm that was affixed to the wall. He listened, speechless, as metal screeched against metal. It was the shrill, the sound of the faucet turning. The roar of water gushing in to the tub followed far too soon and filled his ears.
…The wall of years had come and gone, and there was not a word about that one’s fate. He was supposed to be...
Roy swallowed and looked away from the impossibly bright light that was coming from his own bath.
…There could be no way in the world that that man could be... Could be.
He glimpsed the free swinging of the single braid, and his brain supplied the name of the hair color as blond. No. Golden blond. That was shade not seen in Amestris in nearly five years. Not since the younger brother had vanished, or perhaps left the country for parts unknown.
It just could not be.
No wait...
He looked back at the open door in his hall way. Steam was beginning to billow out and drift along in welcoming tendrils. He could hear the water within splashing. Someone was in there, and that was the evidence before h
There is just no way...
No
Way...
He grit his teeth against the squeaking of the dials, issuing forth from within that tiny, white tiled room. The roar of the water stopped, and in the blissful silence he heard both his own thundering heartbeat and the slight music of drops dripping into the pool that was surely with in that room. His deep white tub with the lion’s paws for feet, placed just so at each of the four corners. That piece came with the house, and he knew when he saw it that buying the entire place was an absolute must.
The mirrors came later, and he picked them with care, often asking Riza her opinions of this or that model. Who knew that there was such a large variety of mirrors in Central? He certainly did not when he faced the task, and he had no realization at just how daunting mirror shopping could be.
Stop. It.
He knew what he was doing. He was blinding himself to this impossible of situations. A dead man had come knocking, and stood now, alone in his bath. No. He was running his bath. No. Ran his bath, and here he was standing in the hall way, just a witness to it happening.
He took a cautious step toward the open door, watching the billowing of steam. This step was followed by another. And then another. Soon enough, maybe forever passed him by, but the steam was still billowing, and he was close enough to breathe it in. The hot. The wet.
He could not be here. No. He let out his breath, and let his good eye dart to the mirror.
The silver surface was just as fogged up as his half way drunken mess of a brain. It did little good for him like that, no matter what model he had chosen. None would serve him all that well with this much steam weighting the air down. She would be no help for him tonight, his wonderful Riza. She was not watching his back. Not any longer.
The wide patch that covered his other eye itched against his scared skin in the water logged air. He twitched his cheek in irritation, and turned his head so that his good eye could see the bath interior. The white tile lined the floor and what he could see of the walls. The rest was a foggy blend. He breathed in the heat, and smelled the rich aroma he had not let himself miss.
It was impossible. It was impossible. But he was. He was here.
“How…how are you ...” His voice failed him as he watched the interplay of the many muscles displayed on that wide back, and while that was a wonder to behold, especially with the untold tales that the many many scars on that tanned skin hinted at, his gaze wandered to the glinting of silver on the right shoulder. He knew that sweet spot, oh so very well. He reached forward to grace the crease where flesh met steel with aching fingers.
In an instant, the nimbus of gold stands flew before him, and before he could as much as blink, Roy gazed directly into the golden inferno. The twin golden infernos, that is, which were the windows to this most particular of souls.
He was lost; drowning in those eyes.
He forgot about the gaze Riza shot him, full of her disappointment and woe and regrets that gave weight to their many years of effort. He stared at those remarkable eyes, glowering at him in the steam filled tiny room nestled in his hallway as the scientist with in his soul, the dammed scientist that always asked the niggling questions over how everything worked, that scientist he long thought buried under mounds of mindless paper work and far too many deaths in a senseless war, that scientist who was within every Alchemist deemed worthy of working for the State of Amestris, asked quietly with in his addled brain, how can this be. How can he be...?
..Alive?
That face, that close, so close that their noses almost crashed together. They shared each other’s breath for several silent heartbeats. Roy did not make the first move, no. He was never that impulsive. The other one, he bridged the tiny gap between them, pressing his hot and very much living lips against Roy’s, whose own lips were flaccid in comparison.
He accepted the evidence and analyzed, never giving in to the livid hunger displayed. There was no thought exactly, in that flash of pure desperation.
He moved his own lips against the other’s, his teeth grazed against the flesh of perhaps a lower lip. It might even have been an upper, but not that it mattered. There was a slight shift. The mouth opened just the same, welcoming his advances. The kiss deepened, and neither darted their tongue out at first. Roy tasted deeply of the other’s breath this way, not yet believing what his senses where telling him. He licked at the bottom lip; he thought it at first his own. A warm tongue full of his taste slid boldly over his bottom row of teeth, and only then did Roy shudder with realization.
It really was. It really was. As impossible as it was, it was him. It was Edward Elric and none other. No one else he had been with ever tasted so purely of sunshine and pain and sorrow. He slid his own tongue forward, and for several moments, they dueled for dominance. As neither gave way, Roy’s heartbeat thundered deep in his chest. Familiar warmth spread and went straight to his groin. He longed to chase after that taste, to continue on as the tongue retreated briefly, and for a heat fussed moment, he nearly did. Instead, he abruptly turned his head and broke off his end of the long, lingering...
“How..?” He heard his own voice whisper after several gasping breaths. He kept his head turned away, faced to the mirror on the wall. He cast fleeting glances at the golden eyed face with his good eye. The face looked as flushed as he felt, but it was certainly not as he remembered it. The light in here was at once too harsh and yet not nearly bright enough for the details that he longed for.
“Don’t know... “Ed’s voice rasped and Roy watched those burning embers flicker with in those orbs.
Ed’s mouth grimaced as if in pain. It was a brief thing, and could be easily missed were Roy anyone else. Roy turned his head back to the face and looked at Ed fully with his good eye.
"What are you looking at." Ed’s gaze practically gored through to his core. He felt his stomach dance.
Roy had nothing to say to that, and stood mute as he breathed in the hot air of the tiny room.
“Idiot. “ Ed muttered, and Roy heard the hiss gushing through his teeth at the end of the insult. “Come on, into the tub already. Water’s getting cold.”
Roy ignored the tersely spoken words and let his one good eye drift down the sharp cheek to the prominent chin. His eyes were about level with that chin, which was.., well, different. Ed must have had a late growth spurt while away, which was not entirely a terrible notion. Further down, harder to properly see since Ed was standing oh so close, he glanced to the juncture where the muscled neck met the wide set of shoulders. Though one was made of what looked to be steel, and appeared far more primitive than automail, they were a beautifully proportioned. His hands itched to reach out and touch.
His mind muddled at the moment, both from the alcohol and that heavenly long gust of a kiss, he did just that. His palms had barely graced the triceps before his fingers came to rest on the metal and skin. From there, his hands moved almost automatically, sliding up to cup either side of that sharp edged jaw.
“What happened..?”
“I could ask you the same.”
“Fullmetal. Tell me. Where have you been all this time?”
“Its.. complicated. Right now you stink something awful. Get that bath done and I promise you. I promise that I will tell you what I can.”
Roy’s brows lowered, as he knew this was weird. They had a.. a way of handling each other.
Ed would explode in fiery tantrums within five minutes in his presence, in public usually, and stomp off loudly declaring his utter contempt, however, the nature of their physical activities was, in contrast, a quiet secret. They were equally passionate, Ed being the one experimenting really, but the long swaths of separation due to Ed’s travels in his search for the stone nicely allowed for any inquiring minds in the military to never consider them anything close to lovers. Granted, they barely even thought of Roy and Riza as a couple, even with his planted rumors helping the ruse along.
He supposed he was as out of practice as Ed was, but this was not the longest that they had been separated.
This one just felt… final.
“Tell me dammit..”
“That is a long story, and it can wait…” Ed stopped speaking suddenly, and glanced around. “This.. this isn’t real. Now way is this real…” He said in a whisper.
Before Roy could say a thing, Ed slapped his hands together. In a flash of blue lightening, his image broke apart as though it were a shattering of the mirror’s glass. As the splintered shards of Ed faded from his limited sight, Roy could only wipe his face in disbelief.
ooooo
Cats only ever seemed to scowl at him. Even when they opened the eyes wide with fright, it was still in a scowlish sort of way. The feral slits buried within a pair of gleaming irises, gemlike in the natural arrangement of greens and yellows, did not move all that much. The glare of the beast did not relent in the least, and besides that, the creature was disgustingly on the cute side of life.
The two brothers stood upon the entrance stoop of a rather run down row of shacks that, back in Amestris, would have passed as a slum. Here though, for some reason the newspapers declared them as “luxury apartments”. Ed still snorted at the notion that these things were luxury anything. The communal bath was easy enough to locate, he passed that up on the first day, and had to squeeze his nose shut to bear the eye-watering stench every time he had to make use of it.
All the buildings were similar. Planks of wood largely formed the walls, and wavy sheets of some sort of metal the sloping roofs. If one had a knot in a plank, and it fell out as knots in rotting wood often do, it was said to be counted as a window by the owner, and you were charged extra in the weekly rent for its presence in the wall. The floors were dirt, just dirt and more dirt, and Ed often wondered if he should bother with sweeping if it was only dirt at his feet. There was one sink in what served as a kitchen, and that was on the right wall just beyond the door. The lip of the porch though, that was actual concrete, which consisted of a stretch of a block about a foot wide, and half a foot tall.
“Can we keep him?”
He heard again, in his brother’s natural voice. Now devoid of that eerie echo that the armor produced, Ed thought he would never tire of that voice. He flicked his gaze slightly. The creature’s fur was a mix of orange, yellows, and black. The very tips of the thing’s front paws were a gleaming white, as were the tufts of its ears. As he watched, the furball squirmed under his intense scrutiny, and his brow lifted slightly as he noticed a certain truth of the matter.
“You mean “her” right?”
“Huh?”
“It’s a she, you know. He’s missing something back there, you did notice didn’t you?”
“He-- what? Really?” Al dipped his head low in a feeble attempt to look at the squirming mass of a behind. The tail was tucked firmly between the haunches, and the attempt was quickly aborted...
“So can we?” Al pressed.
Ed smirked as he looked fully into his dear brother’s gleaming golden eyes. His cheeks burned from his effort to keep his inner grin from showing. Those golden eyes. He could never refuse Alphonse anything since he had pulled those orbs back from the nothing between the Portals. Al knew this well, which was why he was asking such a thing as this in person instead of simply calling his brother over the phone.
The deadpan expression he fought to keep in place felt to be cracking under the pressure of those irises. The cat itself, though disgustingly cute, had no bearing in this momentous of decisions. This was a matter between brothers, the last of the Elric clan. No. It was a family matter, now that he thought about it. Yes.
And that bastard, that poor excuse for a father called Hohenheim didn’t count as family. Besides. He was long dead, and buried next to their mother, in a place that was out of reach. Ed felt his brows raise and skew as these thoughts flittered through his mind. He knew that he alone was responsible for the horrible fate he sentenced wonderful Alphonse to, and everything, and it was all his fault as the big brother, and here he was, staring at this creature held by his precious little brother’s flesh and blood body. It was still all impossible, too much to think about, and wondrous, and also terrible too. But that had everything and little to do with the ball of fluff he was supposed to be considering. Right?
He denied Al so much in life.
Alphonse shifted his weight from one foot to another, and the well-polished leather of his rather nice shoes creaked. He shifted back to his heels, and then to the balls of his feet, and still Ed held onto his mask with a claw like grip. The sound bubbling up from deep within his belly could be passed as a cough, and with anyone else, he could easily do so. But. This was Alphonse.
Who else knew him better?
Was this mask even working? Ed flicked his gaze slightly. A single golden brow rose slightly on his brother’s face, creeping closer to his hairline.
Alphonse. Oh.. he knew. He knew!
Here they were, on this wreck of a porch, if he could call it that, staring at each other with a ball of fluff between them. The silence was deafening.
The thin door banged open, and the walls vibrated from the blow. As the rotting boards struggled from the vicious kick he delightfully performed, Ed stepped into the tiny luxury apartment of this side of the Portals, and enjoyed a little bounce in the ball of his false foot as he made his way forward.
“Do what you like.” Ed said simply, and he felt the edges of his mouth tighten. .He needed Al to stay someplace safe, and this... this slum would work nicely to that end. Most of the people here were not a part of the weirdo cult that was out searching for them, or at the least, as far as he could tell, they weren’t. The four sets of immediate neighbors usually wore jeans or dress slacks in public, rather than the fluttery robe-dresses favored by the freaks.
“But she’s so lonely. Who will take care of her here?”
“Al...” Ed began again, and let out a sigh.
“Wait. What... what did…?”
Ed let his mouth stretch.
“We’ll call her Predator. Yes that’s a good name.”
“Did you... I can keep her? Really?”
“Uh huh.” Ed replied and grinned widely, and turned to look at Alphonse. A flutter of a heartbeat passed before his face nearly split in two as his dearest brother returned the smile. Abruptly, Ed turned away and stretched his arms over his head. As he rested his palms against the back of his neck, he heard Alphonse laugh. The sound was much like bells jingling.
“Incandesce... I think Incandesce is a better name for her.” Alphonse said from behind the ball of fluff. Ed didn’t look back at him, and instead flopped onto the mound of fabric, wood, and spongy bits that served as a sort of couch.
“What’s wrong with Predator? It is a fine name.”
“You have no taste.”
“So.”
“Incandesce is a good kitty sort of name. Predator is...”
“Badass.”
“Uh...”
“We have a badass cat, with a name like Predator. Incandesce is too...”
“Too what… “ The jingling tone of voice dived down, decidedly flat. Ed glanced over at Alphonse’s face, and noted the lowering of his brows. He decided right then to take the most courageous of routes, and abruptly changed the entire course of the conversation.
“Come here Predator..kitty kitty kitty...”
“Tell me what’s wrong with calling her Incandesce.”
“Never mind.. just give me the cat.”
“No”
“Al..”
“No tell me”
“It’s not that important.”
“Yes it is.”
Ed glared at his brother, and a moment passed. He smoothly tossed the sponge that he used as a pillow the night before, and it struck Alphonse at his chest. A great puff of dust filled the area, and as Ed choked and sputtered, Al waved his hands to clear the air.
Al then bounded off, out of Ed’s sight, presumably searching for the cat.
Their new pet.
Ed frowned and leaned his head back against the fabric. He then closed his eyes, and let out a breath. He tried his best to not think of what he saw in the castle. He had a life here, on this side of things. And where ever Al was, that was what was “home”.
The treacherous wants of his heart be damned.
Title: Erised
Author: Debra Colvin
Genre: Action Adventure Drama
Rating: PG-13,
Word Count: 7314
Pairing/Characters: some Roy/Ed
Warnings: Implied same sex relationship, some male/male kissing
Summary: Ed is stuck on the other side with Al, and has carved out a life he is determined to keep. A slight Harry Potter crossover-- sorry, Harry is does not make an appearance, the time line does not allow it.
A/N>> I have a Harry Potter crossover with Full Metal Alchemist over at ff.net that I have yet to get back to. This piece may or may not fit into that universe. It could also be stand alone.<<<
Erised.
Edward Elric was not a happy camper.
The sun peeked over the distant trees as he crouched down, blending into the shadow of the first decorative hedge. Massive and wasteful, with vast sweeping stone arches just about everywhere and an amble amount of giant windows, this thing that was called a castle was the entire reason that Ed was bothering with this country at all. He hated it already, and his toes had yet to crunch against the fine gravel that likely covered the elaborate cloistered courtyard beyond the towering wall.
Of course, to even get past that barrier and within building to begin his search at all, he had to first somehow cross the big ass lake that he was told was called a” moat”.
“Gotta be kidding me...” he hissed softly in his home tongue. He snarled as he darted his gaze about. He had been under the impression that a moat looked more like a ditch or at most a steam, not something like this. “Greaaat. A fucking lake, great.”, he added, and began to move, slightly favoring his left leg with each shift of his feet. He kept his head low from long practice, and followed the hedge around, making not a sound in the dew covered, and overly neat cropped grass. He made it to a rather large boulder just as he glimpsed movement above him.
He crouched low again hiding amongst the dwindling shadows and held his breath. He watched as the three darkly draped figures, clearly astride brooms, flew gracefully over the stinking large lake. He scowled at that ease that these folks broke the rules he lived by.
The haunted part of the castle was just a cover story then, with these weirdoes in the flapping cloaks and long dresses around. The lack of Equivalence annoyed him, but it proved that a powerful alchemic amplifier, such as the damned philosopher’s stone, was nearby. He supposed that whatever it was, it had to be in the stupid castle, somewhere. He had to go in to find it, to destroy it.
Those weirdoes liked to call themselves wizards, and a select few knew of Ed’s existence. Even fewer knew that he did not belong in this world. That fact made him something special in their eyes, something special in the sense that he had something they considered to be like caviar in him. In his blood, in his heart, whatever, which was disgusting to think about, really, and who knew what that really meant. Not that he cared all that much about it, but he had Alphonse to consider.
Yes. There were friendly wizards, and he knew that he remained on friendly terms with them. Since he learned of the caviar thing, he decided to not let his baby brother anywhere near wizard types if he could help it. Just to be safe. He didn’t want to be responsible for any deaths should the bad ones decide to off the good ones just to get his caviar thing. Or worse, Al’s caviar thing..
He wrinkled his nose up at the thought.
Moments later he spotted it, the way around the big ass lake. Here and there, he could make out dark shadows in the shining water that did not move-perhaps they were what they appeared to be: large flat rocks? With a quick glance around that included a good look up, (to make sure that the way was clear), he dashed off.
Several steps later, he sputtered to a halt. A single leaf fluttered in the air before him, and as he stood upon the tips of his very toes, waving his arms wildly to keep his balance, he held his breath.
He had not been in deep water in years due to his status of having automail installed upon his person. Water and automail was inherently a bad mix, and he well knew the risk of drowning from the sheer weight of his devices dragging him under.
But this, this was the air, the land, and..and he knew it was just bad. Real bad. A slight shimmering graced the leaf, now but an inch from his right shoe, and everything within his sight sort wavered and wiggled. He would recall later that what it looked like. It reminded him of how things appear under water, and something very heavy suddenly dropped right in beside you.
He watched leaf quietly go poof, and vanish like ash in a gale. In that moment he riffled through the Gate knowledge crammed in his skull and belatedly identified the barrier as something called a “house ward”, a pretty damned powerful one. He cursed his luck as he was flung backwards from the shockwave. Airborne for several seconds, his breath gushed out of his lungs as his back smacked against the nearby boulder with the rest of him.
He grimaced, forcing away the pain, and lost track of time. He didn’t need to see the billowing of robe-dresses appearing around him with a pop of displaced air to know he had to move and move now.
He managed a roll to his side somehow, but blinked stupidly at the stick being pointed at him. He had the time to curl his upper lip in disgust before a red colored flash of a discharge blinded him.
ooooo
The next thing Ed knew, he had this terrible kink in his neck, and well, the ground he was laying on was too hard to be anything else but stone. He heard voices speaking above and around him. There was this echo to the voices, and the slightest of sounds bounced about, which told him that the room or whatever was a rather spacious one. He was on his right side, and he could feel the uneven ridges of his stupid artificial arm digging into his ribs with each breath he took. That is until something like rope wound its way about his neck and jerked him up.
“We know that you are awake.” A deep baritone rumbled, and added with a tone of disgust. “Muggle.”
Ed clawed at the thing about his neck, and his eyes were kind of squeezed shut as he gasped and kicked out with both of his legs. He landed no blows, and before long, his feet were no longer within the ground’s reach. By then, he figured out that the language the freaks were speaking was called “Czech” or something, and the reason he could understand it was because of the Gate.
“Let us all have fun, Darius.” Another voice called out nearby. He saw a flash of orange light though his eyelids, and hissed at the burning pain he felt spreading across his chest. Raucous laughter filled his ears as he darted his eyes down and saw a several slashes in the dark shirt he wore. He scowled down at the lot of stick wavers, and counted their number as somewhere below a dozen.
“Let go. Me” he said in broken Czech, his tongue feeling like it was twisted in knots to make the words form. The gate may have provided the knowledge of the language, but practicing it was an entirely different matter. Another flash of orange from the stick waver in the corner, this one striking his right arm. He curled into the injuries anyway, and heard more mocking laughter. As he floated in midair, he heard something wet dripping against rock, and glimpsed a red spot growing on the floor beneath him.
Blue lightening flashed, and Ed widened his eyes and looked about by reflex. The discharge danced down and about, over nearly every surface. A second later, the nearest wall transformed into searching stone fingers, which quickly then became jutting stone fists. One stone hand smacked a rail thing cloak draped fellow against some solid looking stairs that Ed hadn’t noticed before, and he crashed into the ground almost immediately afterwards.
“Brother!” Ed heard a young boy cry out a fraction of a second before a deafening rumble made any speech pointless. He coughed away the billowing of dust as the telltale hallow clanking grew louder.
“I’m fine Al.” he said in his home tongue with a reassuring smile plastered on his face. He glanced up. “Just a few bruises...and…” He found that he could not continue speaking at the glowing red eyes within the metal helm, and lowered his brows as he took a good look through the dust. His brother’s voice had indeed echoed out of that thing, and the metal construct was shaped into a suit of armor.
No.. He can’t be . Ed’s eyes widened fractionally, and then narrowed, picking out a lack of Alchemical marks on the gleaming gauntlets. Missing were the considerable spikes on the shoulder guards, and also, this particular armor was not quite so towering.
“I’m sorry I took so long, Brother, and I know you told me not to use Alchemy, but you see...”
“Damn it Al, the hell did you find that thing?” Ed began, and added. ”And why are you back in armor at all..?”
He grit his teeth as an orange flash flared along with a green, and this time they ricocheted harmlessly off the low wall beside them both. Boy, were these guys predictable.
“Screw it. We’ll talk about it later.” Ed growled. “Get out of here Al.”
“Brother…?”
“I’ve had it with these guys, ok?”
“Just don’t overdo it, ok, brother? I mean it.” Let hanging in the air was the unspoken reminder of his promise to his dearest brother to never kill anyone should he be able to help it.
“Fine, Al. “ Ed sighed, and wrinkled up his nose. “Just go. ”
The red eyes vanished, and the suit of armor quivered a moment before it loudly collapsed.
“Al..?” Ed said softly at the heap, and swallowed back his dread. He hoped Alphonse knew what he was doing. That stunt of Al’s Alchemy really scared the shit out of him.
He grinned evilly at the stone walls, and slapped his hands together; looking as though he were at prayer for a moment before he unleashed the equation he formed within his mind.
ooooo
The earth reformed as the golden discharge danced around him, shaping itself according to his will. He gingerly poked his nose beyond the lip of his hole, and darted his eyes about. This was not the first time he had tunneled to break into a place, and at least this time he had something of a map. In the local records, he had found an architectural sketch drawn up a few centuries ago, but with the freaky weirdoes taking residence in this castle, those plans were not exactly valid. Besides, he had yet to work out where he was in this place.
Well exactly anyway. He was a least several floors down from where he started, and he had the bruises to prove it from the sudden unexpected drops. He glanced up at the ceiling as the stone groaned dangerous warnings, tempted for a moment to duck back down and tunnel about some more. He saw no telltale cracks just yet, so the damage had yet to reach this far down. Wherever he looked was dark shadows and gloom, and he gradually was able to pick out details.
The walls were tall and narrow, and silvery white sheets draped over most things in the room. No, it was a hall. There was no movement, or voices, and the only sound echoing at the moment was his breathing.
There were methods in his head, provided by the Gate, that were for expanding a room greatly in size on the inside while keeping the outside the same. At least with this stupid magic around, he could make use of the lingering energies. To him, that meant this “magic” was actually Alchemy of some sort, even if it didn’t look the same. Or work the same.
Those weirdoes liked using sticks for their Alchemy after all. Sticks and a mishmash of nonsensical words that he suspected were largely made up. Most of the lot were total wimps too.
“Screaming like girls at a little thing like a spike through the hand…” Ed whispered in his native tongue as he climbed out of his spider hole. As he rose to his feet, his artificial left knee made a whirling sound. He limped over to the nearest wall for support as the mechanism within decided to make a series of clicks. He grimaced as he pressed a free hand to his wounds on his chest, and looked down at his fingers to the slick redness. He pressed his palm down more firmly as he raised his gaze. He reached for the nearest sheet, and pulled it free. As he wadded the sheet one handed and pressed it to the wounds, he assessed himself. He wasn’t dizzy quite yet, but the mess he was dripping alarmed him a little.
He startled at some movement he caught by the corner of his eye, and backed into a fight stance. He abandoned the pose as he saw his own face, reflected back in silver. The mirror was a huge one, towering over him as it was on the massive wall, and at the very base he made out some letters.
E R I S E D
Without much thought, he idly traced one bloody finger over the “R”.
ooooo
In Central, along a quiet side road stood a half a dozen handsome town houses, and each building boasted of elegance, and could easily be the finest of the block; however only one served its purpose well, much like the act of a mask he removed each night at the doorstep. This was the townhouse that the famed Flame Alchemist, one Brigadier General Roy Mustang, referred to as home.
On the floor before the entrance lay his golden cords, which served to designate his lofty rank, attached as they were most firmly to one shoulder of his formal heavy jacket. The garment would remain there until he was damned good and ready to retrieve it, possibly before the morning light a few days from now.
He wore his formerly crisp, white military dress shirt with the long sleeves and not so tidy cuffs, blue cavalry skirt-- which served to cover the matching blue slacks of his uniform-- and deepening wrinkles in the heavy fabric-- which further marred his appearance-- as he slumped down to the gloom of the lush carpet by the nestled fireplace of the amply large living room. His pale complexion still nicely complemented the raven black hair he kept shorn military grade short, and the strap, attached to the great and striking eye patch which covered much of the nastier looking scars on his face, hardly mussed a single strand out of place. He knew that he was considered handsome, once.
At the moment, he did not give a damn, for Roy Mustang did not want to think. He was far too sober and the bottle in his grasp was far too empty. He moaned his displeasure at his pathetic predicament, and lifted his chin to set it upon the plushy, red cushion. He stared a while, uncomprehendingly, at the fancy back of the chair the cushion was attached to. The simple wooden construct was no porcelain god, but then, he was an Alchemist, and did not believe in gods anyway. His stomach was not nearly swirling enough to need the “pristine enough” bowl to catch anything, at the moment.
Why anyone would call a simple porcelain bowl filled with water, by the means of some sort of pump, any kind of god anyway? He considered it could be a throwback to uncivilized ways, or may be the sordid influence of the Drachman culture from the north.
Uncivilized ways.
It was said that those in the north had gods for everything. Fullmetal.
He breathed in a shaking breath.
Fullmetal had once brought back the evidence of a god that had the job of swallowing bowel movements and, for a while, the office was alive with all sorts of toilet related humor of how that sort of thing would work out.
It was a happy memory. One of his very few ones, and even though Fullmetal was gone now, he clung to it. He and Fullmetal were both highly entertained for a good month or so, regardless of the outrageousness of the imagery which was loudly shared amongst his staff. And sadly, at this moment, he could not recall a single one of those “theroues”.
No “theries”.
Oh the truth of it was, he was a good ways too drunk to even think of the right word to refer the colorful stories his subordinates had conjured up over the subject.
He closed his remaining eye and let out a great shuddering breath. He could smell the rich stink of the alcohol tainting his tongue, but found still, this night as empty as his bottle. He frowned at the odd train of thought his brain had inexplicitly ran down. Which only proved.
Yep.
He was not yet drunk enough to not have a single thought. That was his goal this night, after all.
What he needed, really needed, right now, was another bottle of scotch. Or whiskey. Maybe he would mix both together and make it a scotch whiskey, the bastard child of both. Yes. What did he care if all his nose hairs could and would singe away, bit by bit, with every mouth full of the foul tasting stuff. He was Roy Mustang, was he not? Here he was, after all these years of effort, just a few seats away from actually being Furher of this damned lie of a country, and dammit, tonight he was going to get blind stinking drunk. And what’s more, he was going bring every bit of his lofty ambition to bear to do so. Dammit. Desperate men like he would never be knocked down by insignificant things like having and empty bottle of alcohol in their lonely grasp, no.
Certainly not.
With that most weighty of decisions made, Roy felt the corners of his mouth tug down. His grip on the empty bottle loosened and he cracked open is one good eye. He studied the fine lines in the flowing pattern worked into the rich upholstery fabric, and wondered for a hazy moment, why he was drinking in the first place. Ah. He knew that answer. He knew it well. There was no longer any one to watch his back. In short, he was utterly alone. He was, finally in truth, a train wreck instead of the shadow of a man he once thought he was.
Oh. Yeah. That’s it. He was far too sober. He shifted his weight and heard the empty clattering of glass upon some hard surface. He shifted his gaze to watch the bottle roll a ways, as if it too were abandoning him. The glass bumbled to a stop by a wooden leg that was attached to a low table in the far corner.
Damn it all.
He was far too neat for a man. This whole apartment of his. It was too altogether too tidy. The way it was now, he would forever be reminded. No matter where he was in here, he would always remember her.
This would not do.
Her absence. That was why he was drinking. This night. He lost Riza Hawkeye. Oh. She was still very much still breathing. He saw her in the halls that evening, walking about and all. But the way she looked at him, the way she looked his way, it had turned icy. Cold. She knew that he was ultimately responsible, and what was worse, he knew it too.
He let out a breath. He knew that he was a sinner, but still, he shambled up. He used the chair as a sort of brace, shifting his way back to his wobbling feet. He idly watched the world perform a brief pirouette before he reached out, flailing with both hands, and then clamped them onto something sturdy. As he stumbled for the rest of his balance, he did not look to what he grabbed, expecting it to be an inanimate thing like a couch, a bookcase, hell, even a table.
Though that would be stretching things for a table to be that tall, as his hands were situated quite comfortably at about his waist in height. He himself could never have ever have bought a table that tall, for he always had thought such a table would be ridiculous to have. Useless even. Except perhaps as a thing which would only collect dust and oddball assortment of knickknacks that he certainly was not at all inclined to collect. No. This contraption could certainly not be any table which he had personally purchased that he had his palms resting upon. The surface was quite solid, though, and for that, he was grateful.
He knew his mind was rambling full of nonsense, but what of it. He was alone in his own domain, secure and all but able to fall to pieces in the absolute privacy of his own hard earned dwelling. Such was the privilege of having a high rank in the military.
“You sorry ass idiot.”
He felt his lower jaw drop, as if in response, but his brain offered no retort. It struck him that he was once thought to be a brilliant tactician, but at the moment he found himself anything but. He blinked his one good eye several times, and even narrowed the lids as he tried his mightiest to form something of a coherent thought in his alcohol muddled brain.
For you see, it was within anyone’s understanding for him to react in such a manner when said piece of furniture, the very one that he was depending on for his continued balance, had managed to speak aloud.
There it was. A blur of some sort, that between one blink and the next arranged itself into a familiar form of a face, but try as he might, he could not place it. And how did such a face come to be in his private of sanctum of places to reside anyhow. He was a single man. He prided his privacy. Everyone knew this.
The voice that had spoken... He knew it too. It was gravelly. Yet young, which was why he supposed he was not on the offensive.
“Oh. You are offensive, believe me. Come on. Let’s get you...”
The voice continued but the sarcastic tone of it tickled his fog of memories. He knew this voice. Strong hands shaped into being and guided him along. Bewildered as he was, he allowed them to. The hands were rough, but kind, and almost gentle. He shuffled and staggered, and a few dozen steps later he swung one of his arms out to catch himself upon the wall. He stood in his own darkened hall, and watched the world as it once again danced about him.
He blinked stupidly at a sudden bright light, and heart beats passed before he recognized the open door of his hall way bath. He waited for the world to stop the dancing, and watched the other person who was with him (for some reason he couldn’t fathom) move about as if he were not bothered at all with the world’s whirling ways.
What a marvelous ability. To not notice when the world danced about the head of a pin, he thought.
He heard the other voice again, but could not make out much of what was said. Just the sarcastic tone, and of course, the snicker that followed. No that was no snicker that the voice performed. That was mocking laughter. Out right mocking laughter. He had not heard such mocking laughter in...
How long had it been?
No... He did not want to think. Not tonight of all the nights. He was supposed to be all alone. Besides.
He. He could not be here. There was no way. He was supposed to be... he was supposed to be…
His brows lowered and he chewed on his lower lip as he stood in his own hall way, leaning on to his palm that was affixed to the wall. He listened, speechless, as metal screeched against metal. It was the shrill, the sound of the faucet turning. The roar of water gushing in to the tub followed far too soon and filled his ears.
…The wall of years had come and gone, and there was not a word about that one’s fate. He was supposed to be...
Roy swallowed and looked away from the impossibly bright light that was coming from his own bath.
…There could be no way in the world that that man could be... Could be.
He glimpsed the free swinging of the single braid, and his brain supplied the name of the hair color as blond. No. Golden blond. That was shade not seen in Amestris in nearly five years. Not since the younger brother had vanished, or perhaps left the country for parts unknown.
It just could not be.
No wait...
He looked back at the open door in his hall way. Steam was beginning to billow out and drift along in welcoming tendrils. He could hear the water within splashing. Someone was in there, and that was the evidence before h
There is just no way...
No
Way...
He grit his teeth against the squeaking of the dials, issuing forth from within that tiny, white tiled room. The roar of the water stopped, and in the blissful silence he heard both his own thundering heartbeat and the slight music of drops dripping into the pool that was surely with in that room. His deep white tub with the lion’s paws for feet, placed just so at each of the four corners. That piece came with the house, and he knew when he saw it that buying the entire place was an absolute must.
The mirrors came later, and he picked them with care, often asking Riza her opinions of this or that model. Who knew that there was such a large variety of mirrors in Central? He certainly did not when he faced the task, and he had no realization at just how daunting mirror shopping could be.
Stop. It.
He knew what he was doing. He was blinding himself to this impossible of situations. A dead man had come knocking, and stood now, alone in his bath. No. He was running his bath. No. Ran his bath, and here he was standing in the hall way, just a witness to it happening.
He took a cautious step toward the open door, watching the billowing of steam. This step was followed by another. And then another. Soon enough, maybe forever passed him by, but the steam was still billowing, and he was close enough to breathe it in. The hot. The wet.
He could not be here. No. He let out his breath, and let his good eye dart to the mirror.
The silver surface was just as fogged up as his half way drunken mess of a brain. It did little good for him like that, no matter what model he had chosen. None would serve him all that well with this much steam weighting the air down. She would be no help for him tonight, his wonderful Riza. She was not watching his back. Not any longer.
The wide patch that covered his other eye itched against his scared skin in the water logged air. He twitched his cheek in irritation, and turned his head so that his good eye could see the bath interior. The white tile lined the floor and what he could see of the walls. The rest was a foggy blend. He breathed in the heat, and smelled the rich aroma he had not let himself miss.
It was impossible. It was impossible. But he was. He was here.
“How…how are you ...” His voice failed him as he watched the interplay of the many muscles displayed on that wide back, and while that was a wonder to behold, especially with the untold tales that the many many scars on that tanned skin hinted at, his gaze wandered to the glinting of silver on the right shoulder. He knew that sweet spot, oh so very well. He reached forward to grace the crease where flesh met steel with aching fingers.
In an instant, the nimbus of gold stands flew before him, and before he could as much as blink, Roy gazed directly into the golden inferno. The twin golden infernos, that is, which were the windows to this most particular of souls.
He was lost; drowning in those eyes.
He forgot about the gaze Riza shot him, full of her disappointment and woe and regrets that gave weight to their many years of effort. He stared at those remarkable eyes, glowering at him in the steam filled tiny room nestled in his hallway as the scientist with in his soul, the dammed scientist that always asked the niggling questions over how everything worked, that scientist he long thought buried under mounds of mindless paper work and far too many deaths in a senseless war, that scientist who was within every Alchemist deemed worthy of working for the State of Amestris, asked quietly with in his addled brain, how can this be. How can he be...?
..Alive?
That face, that close, so close that their noses almost crashed together. They shared each other’s breath for several silent heartbeats. Roy did not make the first move, no. He was never that impulsive. The other one, he bridged the tiny gap between them, pressing his hot and very much living lips against Roy’s, whose own lips were flaccid in comparison.
He accepted the evidence and analyzed, never giving in to the livid hunger displayed. There was no thought exactly, in that flash of pure desperation.
He moved his own lips against the other’s, his teeth grazed against the flesh of perhaps a lower lip. It might even have been an upper, but not that it mattered. There was a slight shift. The mouth opened just the same, welcoming his advances. The kiss deepened, and neither darted their tongue out at first. Roy tasted deeply of the other’s breath this way, not yet believing what his senses where telling him. He licked at the bottom lip; he thought it at first his own. A warm tongue full of his taste slid boldly over his bottom row of teeth, and only then did Roy shudder with realization.
It really was. It really was. As impossible as it was, it was him. It was Edward Elric and none other. No one else he had been with ever tasted so purely of sunshine and pain and sorrow. He slid his own tongue forward, and for several moments, they dueled for dominance. As neither gave way, Roy’s heartbeat thundered deep in his chest. Familiar warmth spread and went straight to his groin. He longed to chase after that taste, to continue on as the tongue retreated briefly, and for a heat fussed moment, he nearly did. Instead, he abruptly turned his head and broke off his end of the long, lingering...
“How..?” He heard his own voice whisper after several gasping breaths. He kept his head turned away, faced to the mirror on the wall. He cast fleeting glances at the golden eyed face with his good eye. The face looked as flushed as he felt, but it was certainly not as he remembered it. The light in here was at once too harsh and yet not nearly bright enough for the details that he longed for.
“Don’t know... “Ed’s voice rasped and Roy watched those burning embers flicker with in those orbs.
Ed’s mouth grimaced as if in pain. It was a brief thing, and could be easily missed were Roy anyone else. Roy turned his head back to the face and looked at Ed fully with his good eye.
"What are you looking at." Ed’s gaze practically gored through to his core. He felt his stomach dance.
Roy had nothing to say to that, and stood mute as he breathed in the hot air of the tiny room.
“Idiot. “ Ed muttered, and Roy heard the hiss gushing through his teeth at the end of the insult. “Come on, into the tub already. Water’s getting cold.”
Roy ignored the tersely spoken words and let his one good eye drift down the sharp cheek to the prominent chin. His eyes were about level with that chin, which was.., well, different. Ed must have had a late growth spurt while away, which was not entirely a terrible notion. Further down, harder to properly see since Ed was standing oh so close, he glanced to the juncture where the muscled neck met the wide set of shoulders. Though one was made of what looked to be steel, and appeared far more primitive than automail, they were a beautifully proportioned. His hands itched to reach out and touch.
His mind muddled at the moment, both from the alcohol and that heavenly long gust of a kiss, he did just that. His palms had barely graced the triceps before his fingers came to rest on the metal and skin. From there, his hands moved almost automatically, sliding up to cup either side of that sharp edged jaw.
“What happened..?”
“I could ask you the same.”
“Fullmetal. Tell me. Where have you been all this time?”
“Its.. complicated. Right now you stink something awful. Get that bath done and I promise you. I promise that I will tell you what I can.”
Roy’s brows lowered, as he knew this was weird. They had a.. a way of handling each other.
Ed would explode in fiery tantrums within five minutes in his presence, in public usually, and stomp off loudly declaring his utter contempt, however, the nature of their physical activities was, in contrast, a quiet secret. They were equally passionate, Ed being the one experimenting really, but the long swaths of separation due to Ed’s travels in his search for the stone nicely allowed for any inquiring minds in the military to never consider them anything close to lovers. Granted, they barely even thought of Roy and Riza as a couple, even with his planted rumors helping the ruse along.
He supposed he was as out of practice as Ed was, but this was not the longest that they had been separated.
This one just felt… final.
“Tell me dammit..”
“That is a long story, and it can wait…” Ed stopped speaking suddenly, and glanced around. “This.. this isn’t real. Now way is this real…” He said in a whisper.
Before Roy could say a thing, Ed slapped his hands together. In a flash of blue lightening, his image broke apart as though it were a shattering of the mirror’s glass. As the splintered shards of Ed faded from his limited sight, Roy could only wipe his face in disbelief.
ooooo
Cats only ever seemed to scowl at him. Even when they opened the eyes wide with fright, it was still in a scowlish sort of way. The feral slits buried within a pair of gleaming irises, gemlike in the natural arrangement of greens and yellows, did not move all that much. The glare of the beast did not relent in the least, and besides that, the creature was disgustingly on the cute side of life.
The two brothers stood upon the entrance stoop of a rather run down row of shacks that, back in Amestris, would have passed as a slum. Here though, for some reason the newspapers declared them as “luxury apartments”. Ed still snorted at the notion that these things were luxury anything. The communal bath was easy enough to locate, he passed that up on the first day, and had to squeeze his nose shut to bear the eye-watering stench every time he had to make use of it.
All the buildings were similar. Planks of wood largely formed the walls, and wavy sheets of some sort of metal the sloping roofs. If one had a knot in a plank, and it fell out as knots in rotting wood often do, it was said to be counted as a window by the owner, and you were charged extra in the weekly rent for its presence in the wall. The floors were dirt, just dirt and more dirt, and Ed often wondered if he should bother with sweeping if it was only dirt at his feet. There was one sink in what served as a kitchen, and that was on the right wall just beyond the door. The lip of the porch though, that was actual concrete, which consisted of a stretch of a block about a foot wide, and half a foot tall.
“Can we keep him?”
He heard again, in his brother’s natural voice. Now devoid of that eerie echo that the armor produced, Ed thought he would never tire of that voice. He flicked his gaze slightly. The creature’s fur was a mix of orange, yellows, and black. The very tips of the thing’s front paws were a gleaming white, as were the tufts of its ears. As he watched, the furball squirmed under his intense scrutiny, and his brow lifted slightly as he noticed a certain truth of the matter.
“You mean “her” right?”
“Huh?”
“It’s a she, you know. He’s missing something back there, you did notice didn’t you?”
“He-- what? Really?” Al dipped his head low in a feeble attempt to look at the squirming mass of a behind. The tail was tucked firmly between the haunches, and the attempt was quickly aborted...
“So can we?” Al pressed.
Ed smirked as he looked fully into his dear brother’s gleaming golden eyes. His cheeks burned from his effort to keep his inner grin from showing. Those golden eyes. He could never refuse Alphonse anything since he had pulled those orbs back from the nothing between the Portals. Al knew this well, which was why he was asking such a thing as this in person instead of simply calling his brother over the phone.
The deadpan expression he fought to keep in place felt to be cracking under the pressure of those irises. The cat itself, though disgustingly cute, had no bearing in this momentous of decisions. This was a matter between brothers, the last of the Elric clan. No. It was a family matter, now that he thought about it. Yes.
And that bastard, that poor excuse for a father called Hohenheim didn’t count as family. Besides. He was long dead, and buried next to their mother, in a place that was out of reach. Ed felt his brows raise and skew as these thoughts flittered through his mind. He knew that he alone was responsible for the horrible fate he sentenced wonderful Alphonse to, and everything, and it was all his fault as the big brother, and here he was, staring at this creature held by his precious little brother’s flesh and blood body. It was still all impossible, too much to think about, and wondrous, and also terrible too. But that had everything and little to do with the ball of fluff he was supposed to be considering. Right?
He denied Al so much in life.
Alphonse shifted his weight from one foot to another, and the well-polished leather of his rather nice shoes creaked. He shifted back to his heels, and then to the balls of his feet, and still Ed held onto his mask with a claw like grip. The sound bubbling up from deep within his belly could be passed as a cough, and with anyone else, he could easily do so. But. This was Alphonse.
Who else knew him better?
Was this mask even working? Ed flicked his gaze slightly. A single golden brow rose slightly on his brother’s face, creeping closer to his hairline.
Alphonse. Oh.. he knew. He knew!
Here they were, on this wreck of a porch, if he could call it that, staring at each other with a ball of fluff between them. The silence was deafening.
The thin door banged open, and the walls vibrated from the blow. As the rotting boards struggled from the vicious kick he delightfully performed, Ed stepped into the tiny luxury apartment of this side of the Portals, and enjoyed a little bounce in the ball of his false foot as he made his way forward.
“Do what you like.” Ed said simply, and he felt the edges of his mouth tighten. .He needed Al to stay someplace safe, and this... this slum would work nicely to that end. Most of the people here were not a part of the weirdo cult that was out searching for them, or at the least, as far as he could tell, they weren’t. The four sets of immediate neighbors usually wore jeans or dress slacks in public, rather than the fluttery robe-dresses favored by the freaks.
“But she’s so lonely. Who will take care of her here?”
“Al...” Ed began again, and let out a sigh.
“Wait. What... what did…?”
Ed let his mouth stretch.
“We’ll call her Predator. Yes that’s a good name.”
“Did you... I can keep her? Really?”
“Uh huh.” Ed replied and grinned widely, and turned to look at Alphonse. A flutter of a heartbeat passed before his face nearly split in two as his dearest brother returned the smile. Abruptly, Ed turned away and stretched his arms over his head. As he rested his palms against the back of his neck, he heard Alphonse laugh. The sound was much like bells jingling.
“Incandesce... I think Incandesce is a better name for her.” Alphonse said from behind the ball of fluff. Ed didn’t look back at him, and instead flopped onto the mound of fabric, wood, and spongy bits that served as a sort of couch.
“What’s wrong with Predator? It is a fine name.”
“You have no taste.”
“So.”
“Incandesce is a good kitty sort of name. Predator is...”
“Badass.”
“Uh...”
“We have a badass cat, with a name like Predator. Incandesce is too...”
“Too what… “ The jingling tone of voice dived down, decidedly flat. Ed glanced over at Alphonse’s face, and noted the lowering of his brows. He decided right then to take the most courageous of routes, and abruptly changed the entire course of the conversation.
“Come here Predator..kitty kitty kitty...”
“Tell me what’s wrong with calling her Incandesce.”
“Never mind.. just give me the cat.”
“No”
“Al..”
“No tell me”
“It’s not that important.”
“Yes it is.”
Ed glared at his brother, and a moment passed. He smoothly tossed the sponge that he used as a pillow the night before, and it struck Alphonse at his chest. A great puff of dust filled the area, and as Ed choked and sputtered, Al waved his hands to clear the air.
Al then bounded off, out of Ed’s sight, presumably searching for the cat.
Their new pet.
Ed frowned and leaned his head back against the fabric. He then closed his eyes, and let out a breath. He tried his best to not think of what he saw in the castle. He had a life here, on this side of things. And where ever Al was, that was what was “home”.
The treacherous wants of his heart be damned.