Chapter Text
Roy adds another report to the growing pile on his desk then turns his eyes toward the other stack that’s still over two inches high. He pulls a report from the top then glances to the open pocket watch sitting on the desk to his right. Did he read that correctly? He gives the watch another look but the finely crafted hands don’t budge as they reveal it’s already after seven o’clock. Roy shakes his head and sighs. Where does the time go? It seems like the more work he does, the more there is to do. It’s already a strong possibility he’ll be late meeting Ed, but considering Ed couldn’t be on time again this morning he’s not feeling guilty. It’ll probably do him good to be the one on the waiting end for once.
He rolls his shoulders then tilts his head side to side to fight the tightening in his neck and shoulders from too many hours at the desk. Most of his staff cleared out over an hour ago. Hawkeye probably left around six thirty to go look after Hayate but he didn’t bother checking the time. He glances over to the never ending stack of papers to review and shakes his head once more. There’s no way he’ll make his way through that pile today or probably even tomorrow. He’ll just do one more which shouldn’t put him too late for meeting Ed at the café. He wants to make a point about tardiness without going so far that Ed’s too angry to listen. Ed’s always easier to work with if he’s pushed just to the limit and not over it which is something Roy’s become a master at over the years.
He turns his attention back to the report in front of him and sees it’s another progress report on the ongoing maintenance of Central’s waterways. He rubs a hand across his eyes and attempts to focus on the dry, pointless babble. It’s nothing but an exhaustive account of routine procedure that he’s looked over countless times before. He’s not sure why he was assigned all this mind numbing paperwork concerning the city’s subterranean water system but he has a strong suspicion it’s probably just to keep him busy. He’s not an engineer, but he has no doubt if he ever misses something he’ll be held responsible so he squints at the report and forces himself to process the entire five pages of dense, small font. It’s only on the last page his attention wanders.
Roy smiles when he sees mention of a particularly brilliant, young engineer who apparently devised the solution to a problem that arose since the last report. He’s seen this engineer referenced several times before but only in one of two ways: a commendation or a stern rebuke. It seems the talented young man is quite a hothead when things don’t go his way, but he always turns things around by being able to solve problems no one else can. He reminds him of a certain alchemist and every time he sees the grudging praise written from his superior it makes him smile because he can relate.
He hastily scribbles his name in approval of the work at the bottom of the last page and wonders what exactly Ed’s up to tonight. He called and left a message when Roy was in a lunch meeting and he can’t help but wonder if he somehow did it on purpose. When he called him back to find out why they needed to talk over dinner in public he just answered with, “You need to eat, don’t you?” The only other thing he could get out of him was that he wanted to tell him about some research pertaining to something he and Havoc had discussed. He wasn’t even aware Ed had talked to Havoc, much less discussed ideas with him. He wanted to try and get over to the hospital to ask Havoc about it until a courier arrived with this latest stack of “time sensitive reports.”
“Time sensitive reports my ass,” he mutters under his breath as he adds the current file to the finished pile. He knows it’s all busywork. But if they actually think they can keep him in line with stacks of reports then he really is ahead of the game. He’s dealt with Ed and his messes on top of his own ambitions for years. The only thing he hasn’t figured out yet is if Ed is going to try and turn this meeting into another attempt at propositioning him. He still doesn’t know what’s gotten into him but it’s not making things any easier. He’s starting to wish he’d never pulled out his alkahestry glove in the first place. Everything goes back to that and he’s not sure what to do about it. Ed’s obviously taken with him now, for whatever reason, and he’s tired of being badgered about it.
Roy reaches out and grabs a few dozen of the unread reports then shoves them into an empty folder. He can finish these at home after hearing whatever Ed has to say. He’s not looking forward to this meeting especially since Ed’s tried more than once to “logic” Roy into giving into his advances. Maybe on some level the scenario is acceptable for Ed. But it’s not for him. People may assume he’s a promiscuous ladies’ man, but nothing could be farther from the truth. It’s a rumor he’s cultivated easily probably because it’s so far removed from his true self. Sure he can seduce someone if necessity warrants it, but even that is nothing but another deceit. He’s so used to playing games that seduction is only one more to add to the list. That’s what Ed doesn’t understand and he’s just going to have to find a way to put him off.
He picks up his pocket watch and closes it then shoves it into his pocket. There is a way he might be able to get Ed to understand, but there’s no way he’ll do it. Not with Fullmetal. Knowing him, he’d probably find a way to use it against him. Either that or he’d mock him and that’s not something he’d ever stand for, not in this situation. He probably wouldn’t believe him anyway. He’s just “Colonel Shit” to him, right? Like he’d have any understanding of lost loves and a real, deep connection. Ed may remind him of his past, but that’s all it is, a reminder. They have no connection and absolutely nothing in common. That’s why he won’t take him up on his offer. It would be doomed to failure.
Roy stands then turns around to pull his coat off the back of his chair. He was so busy this afternoon he didn’t even bother hanging it up properly. He shakes out the wrinkles then slides on the comfortable, long garment. He shouldn’t be more than fifteen minutes late in meeting Ed. That should be more than enough time to get his point about punctuality across. He reaches back for the folder of reports—
“Roy.”
He whips around quickly and his eyes widen at the person standing in the doorway of his inner office. How did he not hear her come in? Was he actually that distracted thinking about Ed? He still should’ve heard her coming through the common area of the outer office. He blinks because this isn’t something she’s ever done but once, and that was only because she was concerned about her husband….
“Gracia. I didn’t realize you were coming by.” He casts a quick glance to the darkness outside the window and frowns. Why would she be out so late, and why would she be here of all places? Is something wrong? He turns to look at her again and he’s unable to keep the urgency out of his voice. “Is Elysia alright? Has something happened?”
“Something’s happened alright, but it has nothing to do with her.” Her eyes are unreadable, along with her expression, and Roy suddenly feels like he’s been caught doing something he shouldn’t have. Or maybe it was something he didn’t do. He’s been meaning to visit her, but just hasn’t been able to bring himself to do it. He knows he’d be expecting Maes to be there and it’s not something he was ready to face. “We need to talk.”
“Of course.” Roy motions to the couch to her right and turns to move toward it. “If you’d like to sit down—”
“I wouldn’t.” Roy freezes at the artic tone to her voice and he feels like he’s missing something. The random thought turns through his mind that he hasn’t made an identification cue with her, but he never though there would be a need. The monsters wouldn’t know every aspect of their lives, would they? Not to mention that would’ve required going to see her and having an actual conversation. “I’d prefer it if you’d stay over there as well.”
Roy nods and takes a step behind the desk. He hesitates then finally sits down again in an effort to relinquish all control of the situation to her. Gracia’s never been one who was intimidated by anyone, least of all him, but it can’t hurt to try and come off as more cooperative. “Alright. What can I do for you?”
“You can start by telling me if murdering that young woman in my husband’s name made you feel any better.” Roy sucks in a sharp breath because that was the last thing he expected to hear from her, but why not? It’s been all over the papers. Of course she must’ve seen it, and he can’t even explain it to her. “Wasn’t it enough you took his life? Did you have to exact your vengeance on the first person you could find? Do you actually think that’s how he would’ve wanted it?”
“No, I mean, of course not….” His words stumble over each other in a way they never do. His mouth’s dry and his throat feels like it’s closed off from the huge knot inside. Is that how she really feels? That he killed him? Didn’t she know Hughes had promised.... But still, it’s not like he pulled the trigger! “I didn’t—”
“Don’t even start.” She puts up her hand and he’s almost glad she’s standing in the shadows of the dark outer office because it means he can’t see her face clearly. The hard look he saw in her eyes earlier was enough. “It was always about you. You and those boys and now thanks to you my daughter has to grow up without a father. As if that weren’t bad enough, I have to read articles in the paper about how you “avenged” your “comrade” in a blaze of glory. So I ask you again, did it feel good to burn another human being? Are you at peace now? What if she wasn’t even the one?!”
Roy bows his head and swallows hard around the suffocating lump that’s causing his chest to tighten as well. He considers telling her the truth, but what would it matter? She doesn’t need to know. It would only endanger Maria Ross and potentially Gracia as well. It’s not the point anyway. The point is…she’s right. He’s known it all along but hasn’t wanted to face the whole truth of it. Maes was trying to help Ed, and him, and it got him killed. His last phone call, his last words were to him, or at least they were meant to be. No matter what that isn’t right. Not for a man like Maes.
“I’m sorry.” The words sound hollow, even to his own ears, and he almost wishes he could take them back. It feels like he’s mocking her pain and that’s the last thing he ever wanted to do. Over the many years he’s known her, he’s rarely seen her angry. She’s always been a quiet, joyful woman, a counterbalance to Hughes’ over the top personality. He’s never been good at this but in the face of Gracia crumbling at the seams, he’s even more at a loss. Dammit, Hughes, help me. I don’t know how to do this!
“And that of course makes everything alright. The great Colonel Mustang’s sorry.” The mocking quality to her voice is something he’s never heard from her, not once. Something in the back of his mind tells him it’s wrong but he ignores it. Pain can change people, even sweet, caring people like Gracia. What right does he have to doubt her anguish? “I’ll be sure to tell my daughter that the next time she asks when her father’s coming home.”
Roy winces at the barb and lifts his head just a fraction. He was named Elysia’s godfather, with much reluctance on his part, and insane exuberance on Hughes’. What kind of godfather has he been? He hasn’t been to see them since the funeral. He hasn’t done anything but throw himself into his work. She’s right. “I’m sorry” isn’t enough. He looks across the room illuminated only by his desk lamp and swears for an instant he sees a malicious grin on her face, but in the next moment it’s lost to the shadows. He still can’t shake the feeling of wrongness, but he doesn’t care. Either way the words are true and he won’t argue with them. His gaze ends up at her feet and he idly wonders if he’s ever seen her wear heels quite like that before.
“I should’ve known you wouldn’t have anything to say now that you’re done playing executioner.” Roy keeps his head bowed and watches as her feet turn around to leave. “Just remember when you’re feeling like the great avenging martyr that there’s a little girl growing up without a father.” Her heels make a clack-clack sound with each step as she walks away and he remains motionless until they suddenly disappear. Who’s looking after Elysia? Not her father…in the ground all too soon and he doesn’t remember either of them having family in the city. She must’ve gotten a sitter all to confront him.
He sits motionless in the silence, waiting for anything to break it but nothing does. The only thing he hears is his own breathing and the slight creaks in the leather of his chair. His mind races from one thought to the next, apologies, regrets, what-ifs. A master planner and he didn’t plan for this. She’s gone and for all he knows never wants to see him again. He can’t blame her. Why would she want to see someone who put her husband in danger—a danger she never signed up for—especially considering right now he can’t stop picking apart the entire encounter?
Roy shakes his head violently then pushes out of his chair. He stalks around the desk then closes the door firmly behind himself as he leaves the inner office. He pauses only to lock it then heads out across the dark outer office. His mind spins and he tries to make it stop because he doesn’t have the right to be thinking these things. But how can he not? He’s never known Gracia to go out and leave Elysia at night, not this late. It is possible she could’ve found a sitter, but why would she come all the way to his office? She knows where he lives. Why not accost him there instead of coming here. As far as he knew she didn’t even know where his new office was since he transferred after Maes’ death.
She could’ve found out, the voice in the back of his head whispers. She could’ve come to his office to make it even more impersonal as if they were nothing but strangers. But why would she bother? And how would she know he would be working late? Roy hurries through the dark hallways as quickly as he can. He needs air, space, and to find a way to make his mind stop. He shouldn’t be thinking this way, but if it wasn’t her he wouldn’t have to feel so damn guilty.
He rushes down the stairs and barely notices the cleaning woman he passes. Usually he would. Usually he’d take enough time to know if they were someone who belonged or at least get enough of a look to be able to identify them later. But right now he doesn’t notice anything but the screaming in his own head. He should’ve done more. He should’ve been more informed. Maybe if he had been he could’ve prevented this. Maes shouldn’t have gotten involved in all of this. He was supposed to have Roy’s back all the way to the top. Why couldn’t he have had Maes’?
After all this time, he finally understands.
The need, the drive, to take control of life, to seize it with your own hands and bring back what’s been taken. This must be how Ed felt. The desperation claws at his throat, crawling up from the depths of his soul. He can imagine it, the lines traced across the floor, his blood, his ultimate sacrifice, if only to make the world whole again after all that’s gone wrong. He could do it. With all he’s studied about the body he knows he could. The temptation calls to him so strongly….
He shoves open the front glass doors and heads down the marble steps to the park. He can get his car later. Right now he just needs to walk, to push the array drawing itself repeatedly in his head back into a corner, and the park is a decent enough place to out run his demons. There’s even a certain amount of irony to it. He rushes down the stairs and the little voice inside whispers again. It would be easy. He knows the theory. He could make it work. He sees the lines scrawled across the cobblestones that would bring things full circle, life from death. It could work…or he could end up with a creature like the one that woman in Resembool said she buried when Ed tried the same thing.
Roy rushes down the path lit with tall light poles and his mind still spins with what-ifs. He’s a different alchemist than Ed. He’d look at things from all sides but deep in his gut he knows it wouldn’t matter. Death is final. He’s understood that all his life and nothing’s going to change that now. He glances around the surprisingly secluded park and his insides twist knowing this is where Hughes bled out on the ground and he won’t be coming back. Part of him screams he can change it but he knows he has to face the truth. He has to face it again and again to stop thinking about futile arrays or confronting Gracia to know if their entire encounter was really real.
But how can he possibly do that? What kind of monster would that make him? Sure it’s possible that it wasn’t really her in his office, that all the inconsistencies are due to that creature’s impersonation. But would it even know her? And why would it bother? Could it be trying to verify that Maria Ross is dead? No, Dr. Knox took care of that. The only possibility is that it was to torture him, but would a monster like that even bother? And if it actually was Gracia, lost to pain and needing to vent, what kind of a self-deluded monster would he be to doubt her to her face with outlandish stories about shapeshifters?
No. He won’t face her again. He won’t take the risk. He’ll see about finding a way to supplement her widow’s pension if he can, but he won’t face her again. He won’t take the chance of reopening her wounds and making things worse to just assuage his own conscience. He of all people doesn’t deserve that, especially when deep inside he’s still working through the damned equations he’ll never use. He’s done enough damage to this world, he won’t add to it.
He walks blindly through the park, not caring where the paths take him and he sees the area at the edge of the tree line where that family was having lunch the other day. Did Maes used to have lunch in a place like this with his girls? Would they come out here and meet him when he could get away? He remembers thinking about how Hughes probably would’ve pestered him to no end. How could he be so narcissistic and naïve? He wasn’t the center of Hughes’ attention. He never was. And now there will never be another picnic in the sun for his little girl with her daddy. No one to come after her and hold her hand. He may be her godfather in name but he’d never attempt to step into the empty space left behind. He doesn’t need to taint her innocence with his bloody hands.
Roy looks away sharply and keeps walking. He needs to keep moving. But then he passes the pond, the surface smooth and jet black under the cover of night, and he can almost see the father and son feeding the ducks that are no longer there. He hears the boy’s laughter which suddenly turns higher pitched and more feminine. Maes would’ve done that with Elysia. He probably would’ve done something silly like making up names for the ducks and created some outlandish story about them too. He can imagine Elysia clinging to his hand and begging for another story or maybe for a treat. Maes would scoop her up and….
He has to stop this.
But his mind has other plans. Everywhere he looks he can see something else he helped rob Hughes’ daughter of. She’ll never fly kites with him over the water or chase after butterflies with his encouragement. They’ll never climb trees together or have a picnic or so many other things they could do. He’s heard that many young girls take their wedding pictures out by the water and that’s another thing where she won’t have a father by her side. And Garcia…how much has she lost having to try and fill two parents’ shoes? He knows Maes took her to concerts in the park when they were dating. He told Roy all about the music under the stars and how he should do the same with a wife of his own. Why? Why didn’t he realize he needed to protect Hughes just as much as his own men?
He turns away from the pond and the surrounding open areas and follows another cobblestone path. The grooves in the stone remind him once again of the array but he pushes the thought back, and it’s easier this time. Hughes knew what he was doing, just like he does. He made his own choices. They all do. It’s part of the life they chose to live. He tells himself this again and again as he pauses under a canopy of trees. But then he stops short as he’s suddenly confronted with the definitive evidence of his denial.
How many times has he told himself that phone box was nothing but a phone box? Just a place and nothing more? How many times has he lied to himself that he would rather think of Maes’ life and not his death? No. He was avoiding his death and now that it’s staring him straight in the face he can’t lie to himself anymore. It’s not just another place and it’s not alright. This is the place his best friend bled out on the ground, alone, trying to reach him.
And he wasn’t there.
Roy turns with a jerk and he doesn’t care where he’s going as long as it’s away from here. He moves off the path, making his way under the dark cover of the trees and he wants to get lost, to disappear. He knows he can’t hide from the truth, but he can run from it for a little while. He moves through the trees until he finds himself in an area he’s never been before. It’s off the main trail, it’s secluded, and it’s dark. It’s exactly what he needs. He staggers toward an old bench that doesn’t look like it sees much maintenance and drops down onto it. The worn wood doesn’t look like the more modern benches on the paths and he wonders if this one’s just been forgotten with time…until he realizes it doesn’t matter. None of it does.
He bends over double on the bench and covers his face with his hands. Hot tears drip through his fingers and he can’t pretend they’re rain this time, not that it matters. There are no appearances to keep in the dark. His breath hitches in his chest and the pain is sharp and foreign. He never lets himself do this. Even over multiple glasses of whiskey, sitting alone in the dark in his library, a few tears may fall, but it’s nothing like this. This is a hard, wracking sob lodged deep in his chest and burns all the way up his throat where he gasps for breath. He doesn’t do this. Not since he was a child. Not since Ishval when he lost….
No. Won’t go there. Maes is enough. He can’t open up that wound too. It’s just too mu—
“Mustang? Is that you?”
Fullmetal? No. Fuck. He can’t find him like this. Roy sucks in a sharp breath but it just turns into a choking cough. Shit, shit, this is why he never lets his guard down. He can’t afford to! He can’t ever afford to. He wipes at his face with both hands but it does no good since they’re both wet from his tears. He uses the edge of his coat and turns away from the approaching shadow. He sees a tiny stream trickling by a few feet from the bench—he didn’t know that was there—and he wonders if he can blame the sound of his tears on the stream. Fullmetal couldn’t have seen. He couldn’t. Either way he’ll just deny it.
“That is you.” Roy hears tiny twigs snap in the grass under Ed’s heavy steps and he fights to control the turmoil inside that wants to spill down his cheeks again. “What are you doing all the way out here? We were supposed to meet for—”
Roy winces when the words suddenly cut off. What he’d give for sarcasm or some scathing retort about being late for dinner, anything but silence. Silence means he sees. Silence means he knows and that’s unacceptable. Roy swallows around the hard lump in his throat but he’s still not convinced he can keep his voice even. He has to try. “I’m sorry, I had better things to do than—” His voice wavers and he takes a slow breath to even it out. His eyes are still burning, but surely Ed can’t see that in the dark. Roy’s frustration with himself grows and he snaps. “What are you doing here?”
“You’re never late.” Ed makes the statement like it’s an answer for everything and Roy grits his teeth. He watches the tiny trickle of water, illuminated by a shaft of moonlight through the trees, wind its way over smooth stones. In other circumstances it might be peaceful, but now its tranquility mocks his pain like acid on an open wound.
“Maybe I was trying to teach you a lesson on punctuality. One of these days you need to lear—”
“Cut the crap, Mustang. You think I can’t tell?” Ed’s voice should be harsher, angrier, but it’s not and it makes Roy wince again. He doesn’t want his sympathy. He doesn’t want anyone’s sympathy. He doesn’t deserve it, but even if he did he wouldn’t want it from Fullmetal!
“I don’t know what you’re talking ab—” But before he can finish getting the words out an automail hand presses against his cheek and turns his head toward him. Roy tries to fight the touch but Ed brings his other hand to his other cheek and forces him to face him. Ed leans forward and locks his eyes with Roy’s. His face is stubbornly set and Roy tries once more to look away until he realizes it’s useless without completely pushing Ed away. He considers it until he realizes it won’t matter. His shoulders slump and he finally looks back into Ed’s intense golden gaze.
“I told you. I can tell.” Roy tries to look away again until cool automail presses more firmly against his cheek and he relents and looks down. “You think I haven’t been there? Me of all people?” His voice’s still forceful and strong but there’s a difference to it. It’s softer and not in a way he’s ever heard but with his brother. Is that what it’s come to, him being catered to like Ed does with his brother? “Damn it, Mustang, look at me.”
But he won’t. He can’t. He didn’t even break down this way with Hughes…except that once and he was blind drunk with grief at the time. He doesn’t lean on anyone. If the Madame taught him anything, it was that life isn’t fair and the only one you can truly rely on is yourself. He can’t be taking solace in anyone, least of all Ed.
“Fine. Don’t look. You can still listen.” Roy’s shoulders slump a bit more when Ed doesn’t relent but it doesn’t matter. He can say what he wants and Roy can ignore it later and pretend this night never happened…with the exception of Gracia. He can’t ever forget that.
“Do you have any idea how many times I’ve fallen apart when Al wasn’t watching? How many times I found a place just like this?” Roy does his best to harden himself against his words because he doesn’t understand. He was a child when he made his mistakes. He didn’t destroy an innocent family. He doesn’t know what it is to be completely alone. He has his brother and the Rockbell girl.
“I wasn’t falling apart. I just wanted to teach you—”
“Cut the shit, Mustang!” Ed pulls his hands away and Roy inwardly curses the way he misses his touch. This is the way it should be. He sees Ed’s feet shift in the long grass and he can imagine the frustration on his face. He’ll be mad, but that’s something Roy can deal with. “Dammit, don’t you get it? I understand!”
He shouldn’t react. He knows that, but something inside him snaps at the certainty to Ed’s words. Roy tries to suppress the intense feeling building inside because it doesn’t matter. He doesn’t need to expose himself any more to Fullmetal. If he can just ignore him long enough, Ed will just get pissed and leave. But the war inside him rages higher and beats against his tight control because what right does this child have to compare himself to him? Ed made a mistake. Roy slaughtered thousands. He betrayed his closest friend and his family. How can Ed possibly understand that?!
“No you don’t!” The traitorous words slip from his lips and as they do they open the floodgate he was trying so hard to hold back. His head snaps up and he shoots him a look full of rage and raw pain. Ed stands straighter and Roy’s lips curl in a bitter smile when he takes half a step back. “You made a mistake. A childish miscalculation. I KILLED indiscriminately. How can you possibly understand that?” His voice turns even harsher and he can’t restrain his wrath as he uses his words like weapons. “I’m sorry some sick bastard tried to mess with you, but it’s not the same as living through war. I’m sorry you locked your brother in a suit of armor, but you didn’t kill him. You didn’t destroy his family. You didn’t KILL HIM!”
Roy closes his eyes and waits for the punch across his jaw. It’s a court martial offense to strike a superior officer but he won’t report it. He deserves it for being so harsh with Ed, but he couldn’t help it. His anger’s already cooling and he knows his words weren’t fair but they weren’t meant to be. They were meant to make him leave him alone and stop saying things that aren’t true. What he doesn’t understand, though, is why the punch and ensuing screams haven’t come. Instead he feels a soft touch against his cheek and that startles him enough to open his eyes.
Ed’s close again, very close, so much so Roy can feel his breath against his lips. Ed’s leaning down so their eyes are level but that’s not what makes him catch his breath. It’s the look in Ed’s eyes that’s etched with raw, deep pain. Roy pulls back slightly but Ed doesn’t take his hand away. Instead his eyes soften more and Roy has to wonder where his brash, young subordinate went because this isn’t him. This is a mature young man who’s seeing far too much for Roy’s liking.
“You didn’t kill him, Mustang. No more than I did.” Ed’s words aren’t mocking, far from it. There’s a deep understanding Roy instantly recognizes. Haven’t they had this same conversation in the reverse? Roy tries to shake his head but Ed stops him by cupping his face with his other hand. “You didn’t. It’s the life we chose, remember? You didn’t kill him.”
Roy stares into Ed’s all too knowing eyes then forcibly pulls back. He shakes his head and curls his fingers against the bench at his side. It wasn’t Ed’s fault, but he and Ed have a different level of responsibility. He knows Ed won’t listen to that even though it’s true. He needs to give him something he’ll believe, something he can’t disagree with. “Maybe, maybe not.” He looks to meet Ed’s eyes again and attempts to harden his own. “But you weren’t in Ishval. You didn’t see how many I did kill there.”
Ed stands up straight and it doesn’t surprise him. With the black and white way he usually sees things he’s probably disgusted with Roy now. Good. It’ll make things easier. Roy sighs softly and looks toward the stream again. Maybe this whole thing was a bad idea. Maybe he and Ed just weren’t meant to work together.
“Yeah, well, knowing you, I’m sure you were doing it to save others.”
Roy’s head whips around and his mouth drops open in shock. He can’t know that. He can’t possibly know and why would he ever think that? He should be horrified by all that he did, not giving him the benefit of the doubt. He wants to refute him but…he’s right. Every time he snapped his fingers in that sandy hell it was to try and protect his own men. How could Ed possibly know that? Did he hit his head somewhere? Is this whole night some type of crazy dream? Is this really Ed?
“What is this, Mustang? What happened?” Roy blinks and finds Ed giving him a look that’s much too perceptive for his liking. Ed takes a step closer, but this time he goes down on one knee. He ends up a little lower than eye level with Roy and Ed stares intensely at him. “This isn’t you. What happened? What did this to you?”
Roy looks away again because he doesn’t want to have this discussion, not with anyone. But he knows that look on Ed’s face. He’s looking at him like he’s his latest alchemic puzzle and Roy knows Ed won’t give up until he gets an acceptable answer. Roy sighs deeply then turns his head to face him but instead of looking at him he stares down at the small space between them. “Gracia came to see me at the office tonight.”
“Oh.” That word is soft, breathed almost under his breath and Roy wonders if that will be enough to end this. Knowing Ed though, he doubts it. Roy watches a shaft of moonlight glint off Ed’s automail hand as he clenches and unclenches it slowly. He can imagine the soft metallic sounds he’d hear if the night around them weren’t drowning them out. His hand clenches suddenly once more and his soft words take Roy by surprise. “Was she mad?”
“Yes,” he replies simply and Ed’s silver fingers uncurl again. He doesn’t say anything else and Roy realizes he’s waiting for him to continue. He doesn’t want to, but he doesn’t see how he has a choice. “She blamed me for taking him away from Elysia.” He sucks in a breath and he can still hear the rage dripping from her voice. Real or not, it doesn’t matter. He can easily imagine the real Gracia feeling the same even if she never said it. “She blamed me for killing Maria Ross as well.” Roy finally lifts his head to meet Ed’s eyes and he tells him seriously, “Which you know is how things have to be…for safety reasons.”
Ed nods slowly then shakes his head. “That’s not right.” He shakes his head harder and Roy lowers his again. Surely Ed’s smart enough to realize they have to stay silent to ensure her safety. It may not be fair, but it doesn’t matter. “Mustang, that’s not right. She wouldn’t do that. She wouldn’t even blame me.” Roy’s eyes widen. Did he actually go confront her after Maes’ death? Why? “Mustang, did you talk to her? Did she make a signal? Are you sure it was her?”
Roy’s head snaps up once more and he’s surprised again at Ed’s words. He never told him about the silent cues, did he? One of his other men could’ve. Maybe Havoc considering how they seem to be talking now. He could easily see Havoc befriending him that way. But it’s inconsequential now. “No, Edward. It’s possible it wasn’t, but it doesn’t matter.”
“Of course it does!” Ed’s eyes widen and his hand fists on his knee. Roy can read the righteous indignation on his face and it’s almost enough to make him smile. “Mustang, you should ask her. I can ask her! She wouldn’t do that. There’s no reason for you to—”
“No, Edward.” His tone’s flat and he locks his eyes with Ed’s wild ones. He needs to see how serious he is about this but as usual Ed only wants to see what Ed wants to see.
“Why not?” Ed scowls deeply and shakes his head again. “You need to know.”
“No, I don’t.” Ed frowns again but this time gives Roy enough time to continue. “We can move on the assumption it was Envy, but I don’t want her bothered with this.” Ed shakes his head again and starts to argue but Roy cuts him off. “What if it was her, Edward? I won’t take the risk of trivializing her pain to ease my own conscience.” Roy pauses until he’s certain he has Ed’s full attention. “Do you understand?”
“Yeah, I guess I can see that.” The look on his face makes it clear he doesn’t like Roy’s methods, but at least he understands the logic behind them. Maybe now they can let this go and pretend this whole confrontation never happened. The only problem is Ed’s not getting up and getting out of his way.
“Edward….” Ed turns his attention back to Roy and he can’t read the look he gives him. It’s intense along with something else he can’t name.
“Mustang, why won’t you let anyone in?” His voice is soft, almost as if he were afraid to say the words and maybe that’s the look he didn’t understand. It’s trepidation, maybe even shyness? But why? Ed’s never been that way with him.
“I’m fine, Edward. You don’t need to concern yourself with me.” Ed stares up at him with wide, imploring eyes that suddenly turn much more determined as he stands.
“No, you’re not. No one in your position would be.” Roy blinks and looks up at him because he doesn’t follow. “I get it, you know, the always moving forward, never looking back. I get that. But sometimes you have to look back. Sometimes you have to never forget.” Ed takes a breath and stares him down. “If you don’t, how can you keep from repeating mistakes? We all get weak, Mustang, all of us. If you don’t have anyone to lean on, how can you make sure you’re always seeing clearly? Mustang….” Ed pauses then takes another deliberate breath. “Roy…you don’t have to do this alone. I understand. I-I really do.”
Roy’s breath caught the moment he started speaking because every word he says is true. And he finally remembers the night he found this determined young man and his brother. Blood and pain and grief splattered over the stone floor, transmutation lines obliterated by whatever rebound had occurred. They both know that well of deep despair that would drive a man to do the unthinkable. How could he have forgotten? Is this really the young man he thought he had nothing in common with? How can it be? How can Ed see through him so clearly? Not even Hughes understood all his motivations that Ed seems to read like a book. Only one other person ever did that and he swore he’d never let another in, not ever. But can he really do this alone? It was one thing when Hughes had his back, but now…he really is all alone.
“Edward, I don’t know. I….” He looks toward the stream, still unable to open up enough to face him until cool metal fingers trace over his cheek. He gasps and turns to find Ed’s right in his face again. This time, however, his look is soft, almost tender, a look he never would’ve dreamed Ed could make. What’s going on? What is this?
“Let me in?” His voice trembles unsteadily and Roy feels the ice around his heart begin to melt. Is this all just about physical attraction? Is that what Ed’s trying to do? He slowly shakes his head but Ed traces his fingers over his cheek again anyway. “Mustang, I don’t know what all this is but…it’s not just about the glove, ya know? I mean…I mean, I-I want to help. I want to, you know, be there…if you’ll let me in. Please.”
The last words are so soft he barely catches them, but there’s no questioning their sincerity. How did they get here? He doesn’t even know, but he can’t deny the longing inside him to do as he asks. There’s so many reasons to say no, so many perceived taboos from even considering it. Ed’s not a child, but he is younger and his subordinate. He knows with one look he’s not only asking to be his friend. Ed does everything all the way, Roy’s always known that and he can’t imagine how intense things would be with him, especially considering their volatile history.
But…he understands him. Far better than Ed even knows. And that fact alone is just too hard to deny.
Roy reaches up and covers Ed’s cool hand with his own and his heart skips at the “rightness” he feels at the touch. Ed’s eyes widen at his response and Roy smiles when his lips part with surprise. He tugs lightly at Ed’s hand and when Ed leans forward Roy very lightly touches his lips to his. Ed sucks in a breath and Roy tips his head forward so their foreheads touch as he whispers back to him. “I can try, Edward. I can’t promise, but I can try.”
Ed jerks back suddenly with a gasp and in an instant Roy’s certain he’s read the whole situation wrong. Was he only seeing what he wanted to see? How will he ever explain—but then he sees the look on Ed’s face. It’s filled with wonder and a sweetness he never expected. Ed brushes his thumb lightly against Roy’s cheek and Roy realizes Ed never thought he’d agree. Doesn’t he have any idea how precious this potential gift is? Why wouldn’t he want him?
“I didn’t think….” Roy can only imagine Ed’s blushing from the way he briefly looks down and shifts on his feet. Ed moves closer and surprises him by brushing the hair away from Roy’s forehead with his left hand. “You aren’t alone, Mustang. Not in your mission or in your plan. I understand. Please believe me.”
It’s the sweet sincerity in his voice that finally shatters all the remaining ice around Roy’s heart and his breath hitches in his chest. Emotion hits him like a punch to the gut. It’s been years, so many years since he felt anything this intensely. How can Ed do this to him? How did this happen? How did he ever try to keep him at arm’s length? Maes always told him his subordinate was special. How could he have possibly known the man he would become?
Roy leans forward, unable to help himself, and Ed’s there, just like he somehow knew he would be. He presses his face to Ed’s stomach and he feels strong arms go around him. How long has it been since he’s been held? The barriers are almost painful as they come crashing down around them and his arms tighten around Ed’s waist. His voice cracks as he speaks against the soft fabric of Ed’s shirt and he only hopes he hears him because he knows he can’t repeat himself right now as tears burn his eyes.
“Please…call me Roy.”