Fic: A Mirror Darkly
Title: A Mirror Darkly
Author: Danielle Anderson
Pairing: Roy/Ed
Rating: NC-17
Disclaimer: I own nothing
Summary: Ed has to take responsibility for thoughtless actions
Warning: AU girl!Ed. Don't like, don't read, don't flame
A/N: rainjoyous inspired me :)
[i] Atonement
[ii] Mothers and Movies
[iii] Moi, je m'appelle Lolita
In violent times
You shouldn't have to sell your soul
In black and white
They really really ought to know
Those one track minds
That took you for a working boy
Kiss them goodbye
You shouldn't have to jump for joy
Tears for Fears, “Shout”
Ed hasn’t seen or heard from Mustang since that day and she’s not sure if she wants to. This is the reason she hates him. She should’ve known that she could never trust that bastard and there’s no point in feeling betrayed, not when she knows that Mustang would probably give his right arm to see her suffer.
“But that’s not true, sister!” Al reasons with her when she tells him this. “You know the Colonel’s helped us a lot since you became a State Alchemist.”
“Oh, yeah?” she snorts indignantly, looking defiant. “Like how?”
It is early in the morning. Ed usually doesn’t wake up early but these days she is too bored to even sleep. She’s leaning against the pillows on her bed and Al is sitting at her feet contemplatively. It is mildly surprising how a few days ago, she was trying not to make Al feel bad about her being suspended and now, he is trying to make her not feel about being suspended. She will never know how Al manages physical expressions in that bulky metal body (maybe it’s some kind of trick?). He thoughtfully scratches his head and the leather gauntlet makes a squeaky noise against the metal helmet. “For starters, he let us take the exam. He told me that I shouldn’t take the oral exam because they might find out that I’m...you know,” he gestures helpless to his body and again, she feels a stab of guilt through her heart. “And he’s always kept our secret, too.”
Ed rolls her eyes doubtfully. “Yeah, he just did that ’cause he wanted a promotion.”
“There’s more to that, sister, and you know it,” the boy insists gently. “He’s always sent us out on missions involving the Philosopher’s Stone - ”
“Oh, please. The bastard does that because he likes sending us out on wild goose chases and then letting me hear no end of it.” But even as she says this, she can’t fail to see her brother’s point. He’s always been the voice of reason inside Ed’s head, even outside her head, like the good angel in the morality plays she’s seen at Risembool, always trying to talk her out of the many hasty decisions she makes. If only she’d listened to him before trying to bring their mother back...
“Most of them were just false leads,” she says angrily, glaring at the pillow before punching it.
“The Colonel’s doing all he can,” Al says comfortingly before he pulls away the pillow from his older sister’s grip (he doesn’t want to spend any money unnecessarily before she gets back on duty. He suspects that she may have found his kitty bank because recently he has a feeling that some of the money is missing and she hasn’t been complaining too much about being hungry...). “I guess it’s true that a lot of them were just false but I know that he’s doing his best to help us out - ”
“Hey!” she glowers at her younger brother, who cringes for a moment under her fiery gaze. Though she is grateful that he tries to reason with her and puts up with her short (no, she is not short) temper, it is annoying that he keeps disagreeing with her. For once, why can’t he just admit that Mustang is a power-hungry bastard? And why the hell did he just take away the pillow? “Whose side are you on anyway?”
“Sister, I’m just saying that you need to look at things from a more objective point of view.” (How the hell does he manage to be so patient and understanding?). “We know that the Colonel didn’t have choice, right? I mean...he has superiors, too...”
Sadly, that is something Ed can’t argue against. She eyes him guardedly. “You’re beginning to sound a lot like that creep, you know,” she says, narrowing her eyes.
“Who, me?” he cries, waving his arms about frantically as if he were trying to persuade himself that if he kept doing that, he could fly. “I’m just trying to be reasonable...”
“Reasonable,” she echoes, bemused, and a dangerous glint shines in her eyes and her automail hand tenses as if getting ready to attack.
“Er...you know?” he searches desperately for an answer that wouldn’t end in her punching him in the helmet. Of course he can’t feel pain but he just cleaned it up and he would hate for it to get dirty on the floor, if she hit him.
Not that she would ever do that.
He is saved from further facing the nefarious look in Ed’s eyes when there is a rapt knock on the door. He quickly gets to his feet. “I’ll get it,” he says eagerly, grateful to put some distance between him and his sister.
Both their mouths drop open when they see who it is.
Al recovers first.
“Uh, hi, Winry,” he awkwardly raises an arm and scratches the back of the helmet, again producing that squeaky noise and this time, Ed winces. He laughs nervously and steps aside for the pretty blonde girl to come in.
“Hey, Al, Ed,” Winry smiles. There are dark circles under her eyes and her long blond hair is messed up as though she has just woken up from sleep. Judging from her appearance, he deduces that she took the night train from Risembool and he is suddenly curious about why she’s here.
Winry is wearing her usual jacket and short skirt and she is carrying a toolbox in her right hand and a huge suitcase in the other.
Ed’s eyes fly open as soon as she sees the toolbox. Looking as though she is about to be executed, she scoots up against the bed post, hands groping desperately for more pillows. There are none and she notices with a sinking feeling that all the pillows are on Al’s bed. Fuck.
“I didn’t wreck my automail!” she squeals. It sounds so ridiculous in her ears because she has the courage to go through a lot of things but she’s afraid to face her wrench-flinging (insane) friend.
If you’re afraid to face her, why is she your friend?
Shut up. She’s obviously never hit you on the head with a wrench.
I am your head.
Oh. Right.
Winry sighs. “You know, that isn’t the only reason I’d come and visit you, Ed.” When she notices that Ed is still cringing, she turns to Al. “What’s up with her?”
“Sister’s just being paranoid,” he explains, amusement evident in his voice.
Winry looks at Ed distrustfully. “Did you by any chance wreck the automail?” Her hand threatening starts to open the toolbox.
“No, no, I didn’t, I swear!” says Ed, thrusting out her automail arm. “Here, you can see for yourself!”
“Good,” says Winry, thankfully leaving the toolbox alone. “Because the last time I told you that I wouldn’t fix it anymore if you kept being careless with it.”
“Kept being careless - ” Ed turns pale with rage and disbelief that Winry even dared to make such an assumption. “You think I get it trashed on purpose, you psychotic, metal-loving freak?”
“Who’re you calling psychotic, you overgrown midget?” Winry retorts, stiffening and clenching her fists.
“Who’re you calling so small she’d be overweighed by your stupid automail?”
“Stupid automail? Why, you little - ”
“Don’t call me little!”
Al stands behind them, suddenly feeling out of place and he exhales resignedly because he’s seen this show a thousand times before, ever since he was four. Ed and Winry may be the best of friends but sometimes they fight like a...couple.
He blushes and tries to banish that thought from his...helmet. Okay, let’s not go there.
“Uh, girls?” he breaks in gently, hesitating. Their fight has become louder and he has no wish to disturb the other soldiers living in the dorm. He feels paternal towards the both of them sometimes, like a parent intervening in a fight between two stubborn children.
They turn towards them abruptly, twin eyes glaring at him. “What?” they snap in unison.
He starts. “N-nothing.” He takes a step backwards as he holds out his hands in surrender and all of a sudden, he feels cornered like a cat. God above, it isn’t easy to deal with two petulant blonds in the same room at the same time. He decides to change the subject and try to distract them from arguing over whose hair is blonder (how the hell did they go all the way there from automail?). “So how’ve you been, Winry?” he asks tactfully. “We don’t see much you around here.”
“Yeah,” Winry seems to have calmed down now and she moves to sit on his bed, one hand on her slim hip. His eyes follow the shape of her slender legs as she crosses them and she has no idea that right now she looks like a movie star, so beautiful and confident and vibrant while he is dull and hollow, and she’ll never look at him; so he must be content admiring her from a distance like an adoring fan.
“I just heard that Ed got back from Drachma,” Winry is saying. She gives her friend a sharp look. “And you never even told me!”
Ed leans back against a propped pillow and settles her hardened gaze on her bare feet. “Yeah, well, shit happened. I just didn’t feel like talking to anyone.”
Winry raises an eyebrow, her curiosity peaked. “Oh?”
Ed fidgets but says nothing, scowl ever-present on her face.
“How’s the situation there?” Winry asks tentatively.
“Great,” Ed replies bitterly. “Just great, if you’re into hiding in trenches and listening to gunshots flare nearby and smelling blood, then yeah, Drachma was real fun.”
Winry looks downcast and she looks down for a moment, perhaps reminded of her parents, who died in Ishbal. “You know, Granny and I were really worried about you,” she says softly. “Especially when we heard that some State Alchemists had died. And when we heard that the war was over, we thought you’d call us or something. But when we didn’t hear anything from you...we got so scared...we were expecting the worse.”
Ed meets her friend’s gaze, surprised at such a clear confession, and it is her turn to look down, ashamed. “I’m sorry,” she says sincerely. “I should’ve told you guys I was okay. But when I got back, I...” she trails off her sentence and looks away, aggravation lucid in her eyes. She doesn’t reply when Winry asks her what’s wrong.
Finally Winry turns to Al, who has now come to stand beside her and he clumsily sits down on the mattress, trying to be close to her and not close to her at the same time. “What happened with Ed?” she wants to know, eyes widening in concern.
Al looks at Ed as though asking for her permission but she says nothing and continues to stubbornly look at neither of them. He takes a deep breath and decides to come out with it:
“Sister got suspended.”
“Suspended!” Winry’s mouth drops open. “But why? Why would she be suspended?”
“Because I didn’t do something I was ordered to,” Ed speaks for the first time in the last five minutes. Her eyes are still on her feet, legs stretched out before her but her mind is faraway, reliving war-torn memories in the snow.
“A general told me transmute a holding cell into a gas chamber because he wanted to scare the Drachman soldiers,” she continues, her voice quiet and husky as Al and Winry listen carefully. “We had all these prisoners locked up there. They hadn’t been fed for days. Some of them were not even soldiers...they were just women and children. I thought we should let them go but Harrison...he wouldn’t...he said we shouldn’t show them any mercy. He wanted to have them killed just so that the Drachmans gave up. But I just couldn’t do it!” Her voice tightens as she remembers how the homunculi nearly forced her to make a Philosopher’s Stone in Lab Five, using the condemned prisoners as a sacrifice. She’d failed them the way she failed the general.
And she isn’t even sorry about it.
Everyone is quiet for a moment and Winry stares at Ed, open-mouthed while Al shuffles his feet. She then reaches out and puts a comforting hand on the other girl’s shoulder.
“Oh, Ed,” she says softly, her blue eyes filled with compassion and understanding. “You did the right thing.”
Ed sighs. She knows that the right thing is just not good enough for the goddamned military but she doesn’t regret her decision. Perhaps she is wrong to have expected any kind of help or sympathy from Mustang.
Abruptly the image of his dark eyes staring into the very depths of her soul, head bent over, mouth mere inches away from hers, flashes in her mind’s eye and makes her heart lurch in her breast. She flinches a bit. Why did it look like he was going to kiss me? Why did Mustang act so acquiescent that day, as though he were expecting her to be angry and was prepared for any insult she might throw at him?
She meets Winry’s blue eyes. “Yeah,” she says distractedly. “Yeah, I was lucky that I didn’t get court-martialed.” As she watches her friend’s forehead start to crease at this statement, she quickly decides to change the subject. She is tired of thinking of that same incident and telling the story over and over again, and she now wants to focus on something that has nothing to do with the military. Or Mustang.
Get a grip of yourself. Everything’s gonna be fine. Just another week to go. And you won’t make things any better for Al if you keep moping! Just another week and things will go back to normal and you can go back to looking for the Philosopher’s Stone. You will get your bodies back, no matter what.
“So how are things at home?” she asks with a thin smile.
“They’re fine,” says Winry, crossing her legs casually. “Den was sick the other day but that’s all fine now.” She brightens suddenly. “Oh, did I tell you? He has puppies now!”
“Aww,” says Al, unable to keep the wonder and longing from his voice.
“Yup,” Winry grins, “we even built a kennel for the puppies and their mom. You two should come over and see them some time...they’re so cute!” She turns to Ed, expression changing to show that a thought has suddenly come over her. “Hey...why don’t you guys go to Risembool with me?”
Ed is surprised by the suggestion. “Go to Risembool?” It is the last thing she has on her mind, especially under the current circumstances. “Now?” She’s been sitting at home for most of the past week. It never occurred to her that she could go and see how people are doing back home.
“Yeah, why not?” Winry smiles. “You don’t have to go to HQ for another week, right? I mean, you’re suspended and it’s not like anyone’s going to come looking for you.”
Ed’s face falls a bit at this offhand remark and for the briefest of instants, she feels like soldier who has come back from a war, shamed. That would be quite close to the truth, except that she doesn’t really feel ashamed.
Winry twitches and leans forward to put a comforting hand on Ed’s knee, realizing what she has just said. “I’m sorry, Ed, you know I didn’t mean it that way...”
“No, no, it’s fine,” Ed shakes her head and clears her throat. She looks at her brother. “Do you want to go, Al?”
“Well...” says Al hesitantly, “I guess we could go...if you want to.”
“Do you want to go?”
He seems to be uncertain for a second and then he eagerly shakes, metal rattling. It makes Ed laugh and nod.
“Okay,” she says to Winry. “By the way, what’s with the toolbox - I think we have it clear that my arm’s fine?”
“I brought it along just in case,” Winry answers, amused. “And it’s not just for you, silly. It’s for the competition.”
“Competition?” Al echoes.
“There’s a company looking for automail engineers to train here,” Winry explains. “There’s going to be a fair here tomorrow...just a few blocks away. And I need to show them some of my work...” she looks at Ed, expectant and sheepish at the same time.
“That’s great,” says Al. “You got all the automail parts, right?”
“Um, actually, I was going to talk to you about that,” says Winry, fiddling with the material of her skirt, which makes Ed suspicious. “I was wondering if you could be my er...display?”
“What do you mean, display?” Ed gripes. “I did that for you at Rush Valley, remember?”
“Yeah, but, I really wanna show them how yours works because they’re my best automail!” Winry protests. “All the other automail engineers are just going to have the parts but with you, I can show them how experienced I am! Please, Ed, do this for me, I’ll never ask you for anything again...”
“You said that last time, Winry,” Ed retorts. “But okay.”
***
Roy is leaning against his desk, having coffee and looking out the window when Fuery comes and hands him an envelope.
He looks at the shorter man questioningly. “What’s this?”
“It’s one of the automail manufacturing companies at Central City, sir,” Fuery explains. “They’re going to have a fair tomorrow at the City Square in the afternoon and they request for your presence there. General Hakuro is already going and the Fuhrer might be there, too.”
Roy frowns. “Why they want military personnel at an automail fair?” he wants to know, tearing open the envelope and skimming through it.
“I’m not sure, sir. I think it’s because of the competition - the winner will receive special training from the company, as well as a high-paying job at the end of the training.”
“That’s really impressive. But I don’t think I’ll be able to go.” He gestures towards the stack of paperwork on his desk, lying untouched. “Lieutenant Hawkeye might object.”
“I think she might go, too, sir,” Fuery informs him. “She seemed pretty interested when she heard about it.”
“Really?” Roy raises an eyebrow, still looking at the invitation card.
It’s an automail fair.
Fullmetal might be there.
[v] My Fair Lady
A/N: Okay...I need a beta. I'm relatively new to the FMA fandom and I do wonder sometimes often if I have characters IC, if the dialogue is believable, etc. I really, really need a beta, someone who knows the anima/manga and the characters well. Btw, if you guys like The Vampire Chronicles, feel free to check out As it ever should be, an AU fic. Thanks :).
Author: Danielle Anderson
Pairing: Roy/Ed
Rating: NC-17
Disclaimer: I own nothing
Summary: Ed has to take responsibility for thoughtless actions
Warning: AU girl!Ed. Don't like, don't read, don't flame
A/N: rainjoyous inspired me :)
[i] Atonement
[ii] Mothers and Movies
[iii] Moi, je m'appelle Lolita
In violent times
You shouldn't have to sell your soul
In black and white
They really really ought to know
Those one track minds
That took you for a working boy
Kiss them goodbye
You shouldn't have to jump for joy
Tears for Fears, “Shout”
Ed hasn’t seen or heard from Mustang since that day and she’s not sure if she wants to. This is the reason she hates him. She should’ve known that she could never trust that bastard and there’s no point in feeling betrayed, not when she knows that Mustang would probably give his right arm to see her suffer.
“But that’s not true, sister!” Al reasons with her when she tells him this. “You know the Colonel’s helped us a lot since you became a State Alchemist.”
“Oh, yeah?” she snorts indignantly, looking defiant. “Like how?”
It is early in the morning. Ed usually doesn’t wake up early but these days she is too bored to even sleep. She’s leaning against the pillows on her bed and Al is sitting at her feet contemplatively. It is mildly surprising how a few days ago, she was trying not to make Al feel bad about her being suspended and now, he is trying to make her not feel about being suspended. She will never know how Al manages physical expressions in that bulky metal body (maybe it’s some kind of trick?). He thoughtfully scratches his head and the leather gauntlet makes a squeaky noise against the metal helmet. “For starters, he let us take the exam. He told me that I shouldn’t take the oral exam because they might find out that I’m...you know,” he gestures helpless to his body and again, she feels a stab of guilt through her heart. “And he’s always kept our secret, too.”
Ed rolls her eyes doubtfully. “Yeah, he just did that ’cause he wanted a promotion.”
“There’s more to that, sister, and you know it,” the boy insists gently. “He’s always sent us out on missions involving the Philosopher’s Stone - ”
“Oh, please. The bastard does that because he likes sending us out on wild goose chases and then letting me hear no end of it.” But even as she says this, she can’t fail to see her brother’s point. He’s always been the voice of reason inside Ed’s head, even outside her head, like the good angel in the morality plays she’s seen at Risembool, always trying to talk her out of the many hasty decisions she makes. If only she’d listened to him before trying to bring their mother back...
“Most of them were just false leads,” she says angrily, glaring at the pillow before punching it.
“The Colonel’s doing all he can,” Al says comfortingly before he pulls away the pillow from his older sister’s grip (he doesn’t want to spend any money unnecessarily before she gets back on duty. He suspects that she may have found his kitty bank because recently he has a feeling that some of the money is missing and she hasn’t been complaining too much about being hungry...). “I guess it’s true that a lot of them were just false but I know that he’s doing his best to help us out - ”
“Hey!” she glowers at her younger brother, who cringes for a moment under her fiery gaze. Though she is grateful that he tries to reason with her and puts up with her short (no, she is not short) temper, it is annoying that he keeps disagreeing with her. For once, why can’t he just admit that Mustang is a power-hungry bastard? And why the hell did he just take away the pillow? “Whose side are you on anyway?”
“Sister, I’m just saying that you need to look at things from a more objective point of view.” (How the hell does he manage to be so patient and understanding?). “We know that the Colonel didn’t have choice, right? I mean...he has superiors, too...”
Sadly, that is something Ed can’t argue against. She eyes him guardedly. “You’re beginning to sound a lot like that creep, you know,” she says, narrowing her eyes.
“Who, me?” he cries, waving his arms about frantically as if he were trying to persuade himself that if he kept doing that, he could fly. “I’m just trying to be reasonable...”
“Reasonable,” she echoes, bemused, and a dangerous glint shines in her eyes and her automail hand tenses as if getting ready to attack.
“Er...you know?” he searches desperately for an answer that wouldn’t end in her punching him in the helmet. Of course he can’t feel pain but he just cleaned it up and he would hate for it to get dirty on the floor, if she hit him.
Not that she would ever do that.
He is saved from further facing the nefarious look in Ed’s eyes when there is a rapt knock on the door. He quickly gets to his feet. “I’ll get it,” he says eagerly, grateful to put some distance between him and his sister.
Both their mouths drop open when they see who it is.
Al recovers first.
“Uh, hi, Winry,” he awkwardly raises an arm and scratches the back of the helmet, again producing that squeaky noise and this time, Ed winces. He laughs nervously and steps aside for the pretty blonde girl to come in.
“Hey, Al, Ed,” Winry smiles. There are dark circles under her eyes and her long blond hair is messed up as though she has just woken up from sleep. Judging from her appearance, he deduces that she took the night train from Risembool and he is suddenly curious about why she’s here.
Winry is wearing her usual jacket and short skirt and she is carrying a toolbox in her right hand and a huge suitcase in the other.
Ed’s eyes fly open as soon as she sees the toolbox. Looking as though she is about to be executed, she scoots up against the bed post, hands groping desperately for more pillows. There are none and she notices with a sinking feeling that all the pillows are on Al’s bed. Fuck.
“I didn’t wreck my automail!” she squeals. It sounds so ridiculous in her ears because she has the courage to go through a lot of things but she’s afraid to face her wrench-flinging (insane) friend.
If you’re afraid to face her, why is she your friend?
Shut up. She’s obviously never hit you on the head with a wrench.
I am your head.
Oh. Right.
Winry sighs. “You know, that isn’t the only reason I’d come and visit you, Ed.” When she notices that Ed is still cringing, she turns to Al. “What’s up with her?”
“Sister’s just being paranoid,” he explains, amusement evident in his voice.
Winry looks at Ed distrustfully. “Did you by any chance wreck the automail?” Her hand threatening starts to open the toolbox.
“No, no, I didn’t, I swear!” says Ed, thrusting out her automail arm. “Here, you can see for yourself!”
“Good,” says Winry, thankfully leaving the toolbox alone. “Because the last time I told you that I wouldn’t fix it anymore if you kept being careless with it.”
“Kept being careless - ” Ed turns pale with rage and disbelief that Winry even dared to make such an assumption. “You think I get it trashed on purpose, you psychotic, metal-loving freak?”
“Who’re you calling psychotic, you overgrown midget?” Winry retorts, stiffening and clenching her fists.
“Who’re you calling so small she’d be overweighed by your stupid automail?”
“Stupid automail? Why, you little - ”
“Don’t call me little!”
Al stands behind them, suddenly feeling out of place and he exhales resignedly because he’s seen this show a thousand times before, ever since he was four. Ed and Winry may be the best of friends but sometimes they fight like a...couple.
He blushes and tries to banish that thought from his...helmet. Okay, let’s not go there.
“Uh, girls?” he breaks in gently, hesitating. Their fight has become louder and he has no wish to disturb the other soldiers living in the dorm. He feels paternal towards the both of them sometimes, like a parent intervening in a fight between two stubborn children.
They turn towards them abruptly, twin eyes glaring at him. “What?” they snap in unison.
He starts. “N-nothing.” He takes a step backwards as he holds out his hands in surrender and all of a sudden, he feels cornered like a cat. God above, it isn’t easy to deal with two petulant blonds in the same room at the same time. He decides to change the subject and try to distract them from arguing over whose hair is blonder (how the hell did they go all the way there from automail?). “So how’ve you been, Winry?” he asks tactfully. “We don’t see much you around here.”
“Yeah,” Winry seems to have calmed down now and she moves to sit on his bed, one hand on her slim hip. His eyes follow the shape of her slender legs as she crosses them and she has no idea that right now she looks like a movie star, so beautiful and confident and vibrant while he is dull and hollow, and she’ll never look at him; so he must be content admiring her from a distance like an adoring fan.
“I just heard that Ed got back from Drachma,” Winry is saying. She gives her friend a sharp look. “And you never even told me!”
Ed leans back against a propped pillow and settles her hardened gaze on her bare feet. “Yeah, well, shit happened. I just didn’t feel like talking to anyone.”
Winry raises an eyebrow, her curiosity peaked. “Oh?”
Ed fidgets but says nothing, scowl ever-present on her face.
“How’s the situation there?” Winry asks tentatively.
“Great,” Ed replies bitterly. “Just great, if you’re into hiding in trenches and listening to gunshots flare nearby and smelling blood, then yeah, Drachma was real fun.”
Winry looks downcast and she looks down for a moment, perhaps reminded of her parents, who died in Ishbal. “You know, Granny and I were really worried about you,” she says softly. “Especially when we heard that some State Alchemists had died. And when we heard that the war was over, we thought you’d call us or something. But when we didn’t hear anything from you...we got so scared...we were expecting the worse.”
Ed meets her friend’s gaze, surprised at such a clear confession, and it is her turn to look down, ashamed. “I’m sorry,” she says sincerely. “I should’ve told you guys I was okay. But when I got back, I...” she trails off her sentence and looks away, aggravation lucid in her eyes. She doesn’t reply when Winry asks her what’s wrong.
Finally Winry turns to Al, who has now come to stand beside her and he clumsily sits down on the mattress, trying to be close to her and not close to her at the same time. “What happened with Ed?” she wants to know, eyes widening in concern.
Al looks at Ed as though asking for her permission but she says nothing and continues to stubbornly look at neither of them. He takes a deep breath and decides to come out with it:
“Sister got suspended.”
“Suspended!” Winry’s mouth drops open. “But why? Why would she be suspended?”
“Because I didn’t do something I was ordered to,” Ed speaks for the first time in the last five minutes. Her eyes are still on her feet, legs stretched out before her but her mind is faraway, reliving war-torn memories in the snow.
“A general told me transmute a holding cell into a gas chamber because he wanted to scare the Drachman soldiers,” she continues, her voice quiet and husky as Al and Winry listen carefully. “We had all these prisoners locked up there. They hadn’t been fed for days. Some of them were not even soldiers...they were just women and children. I thought we should let them go but Harrison...he wouldn’t...he said we shouldn’t show them any mercy. He wanted to have them killed just so that the Drachmans gave up. But I just couldn’t do it!” Her voice tightens as she remembers how the homunculi nearly forced her to make a Philosopher’s Stone in Lab Five, using the condemned prisoners as a sacrifice. She’d failed them the way she failed the general.
And she isn’t even sorry about it.
Everyone is quiet for a moment and Winry stares at Ed, open-mouthed while Al shuffles his feet. She then reaches out and puts a comforting hand on the other girl’s shoulder.
“Oh, Ed,” she says softly, her blue eyes filled with compassion and understanding. “You did the right thing.”
Ed sighs. She knows that the right thing is just not good enough for the goddamned military but she doesn’t regret her decision. Perhaps she is wrong to have expected any kind of help or sympathy from Mustang.
Abruptly the image of his dark eyes staring into the very depths of her soul, head bent over, mouth mere inches away from hers, flashes in her mind’s eye and makes her heart lurch in her breast. She flinches a bit. Why did it look like he was going to kiss me? Why did Mustang act so acquiescent that day, as though he were expecting her to be angry and was prepared for any insult she might throw at him?
She meets Winry’s blue eyes. “Yeah,” she says distractedly. “Yeah, I was lucky that I didn’t get court-martialed.” As she watches her friend’s forehead start to crease at this statement, she quickly decides to change the subject. She is tired of thinking of that same incident and telling the story over and over again, and she now wants to focus on something that has nothing to do with the military. Or Mustang.
Get a grip of yourself. Everything’s gonna be fine. Just another week to go. And you won’t make things any better for Al if you keep moping! Just another week and things will go back to normal and you can go back to looking for the Philosopher’s Stone. You will get your bodies back, no matter what.
“So how are things at home?” she asks with a thin smile.
“They’re fine,” says Winry, crossing her legs casually. “Den was sick the other day but that’s all fine now.” She brightens suddenly. “Oh, did I tell you? He has puppies now!”
“Aww,” says Al, unable to keep the wonder and longing from his voice.
“Yup,” Winry grins, “we even built a kennel for the puppies and their mom. You two should come over and see them some time...they’re so cute!” She turns to Ed, expression changing to show that a thought has suddenly come over her. “Hey...why don’t you guys go to Risembool with me?”
Ed is surprised by the suggestion. “Go to Risembool?” It is the last thing she has on her mind, especially under the current circumstances. “Now?” She’s been sitting at home for most of the past week. It never occurred to her that she could go and see how people are doing back home.
“Yeah, why not?” Winry smiles. “You don’t have to go to HQ for another week, right? I mean, you’re suspended and it’s not like anyone’s going to come looking for you.”
Ed’s face falls a bit at this offhand remark and for the briefest of instants, she feels like soldier who has come back from a war, shamed. That would be quite close to the truth, except that she doesn’t really feel ashamed.
Winry twitches and leans forward to put a comforting hand on Ed’s knee, realizing what she has just said. “I’m sorry, Ed, you know I didn’t mean it that way...”
“No, no, it’s fine,” Ed shakes her head and clears her throat. She looks at her brother. “Do you want to go, Al?”
“Well...” says Al hesitantly, “I guess we could go...if you want to.”
“Do you want to go?”
He seems to be uncertain for a second and then he eagerly shakes, metal rattling. It makes Ed laugh and nod.
“Okay,” she says to Winry. “By the way, what’s with the toolbox - I think we have it clear that my arm’s fine?”
“I brought it along just in case,” Winry answers, amused. “And it’s not just for you, silly. It’s for the competition.”
“Competition?” Al echoes.
“There’s a company looking for automail engineers to train here,” Winry explains. “There’s going to be a fair here tomorrow...just a few blocks away. And I need to show them some of my work...” she looks at Ed, expectant and sheepish at the same time.
“That’s great,” says Al. “You got all the automail parts, right?”
“Um, actually, I was going to talk to you about that,” says Winry, fiddling with the material of her skirt, which makes Ed suspicious. “I was wondering if you could be my er...display?”
“What do you mean, display?” Ed gripes. “I did that for you at Rush Valley, remember?”
“Yeah, but, I really wanna show them how yours works because they’re my best automail!” Winry protests. “All the other automail engineers are just going to have the parts but with you, I can show them how experienced I am! Please, Ed, do this for me, I’ll never ask you for anything again...”
“You said that last time, Winry,” Ed retorts. “But okay.”
***
Roy is leaning against his desk, having coffee and looking out the window when Fuery comes and hands him an envelope.
He looks at the shorter man questioningly. “What’s this?”
“It’s one of the automail manufacturing companies at Central City, sir,” Fuery explains. “They’re going to have a fair tomorrow at the City Square in the afternoon and they request for your presence there. General Hakuro is already going and the Fuhrer might be there, too.”
Roy frowns. “Why they want military personnel at an automail fair?” he wants to know, tearing open the envelope and skimming through it.
“I’m not sure, sir. I think it’s because of the competition - the winner will receive special training from the company, as well as a high-paying job at the end of the training.”
“That’s really impressive. But I don’t think I’ll be able to go.” He gestures towards the stack of paperwork on his desk, lying untouched. “Lieutenant Hawkeye might object.”
“I think she might go, too, sir,” Fuery informs him. “She seemed pretty interested when she heard about it.”
“Really?” Roy raises an eyebrow, still looking at the invitation card.
It’s an automail fair.
Fullmetal might be there.
[v] My Fair Lady
A/N: Okay...I need a beta. I'm relatively new to the FMA fandom and I do wonder sometimes often if I have characters IC, if the dialogue is believable, etc. I really, really need a beta, someone who knows the anima/manga and the characters well. Btw, if you guys like The Vampire Chronicles, feel free to check out As it ever should be, an AU fic. Thanks :).