Chapter Text
Ed screamed, an inhuman shriek that rang out almost louder than the gunshots, and he could imagine the flinching of all who heard it. The bullets ripped through him, some burying there, hitting his lungs, his heart, his head.
Fuck. He hated being shot in the head.
But he hung on, through the agony, feet planted on the ground, refusing to fall back even at the momentum of hundreds of pieces of lead shoving at him. He stood, fists clenched, blood soaking the white of his gloves, and screamed until the shooting stopped.
Silence finally echoed yet again, so quiet that Ed could hear soldiers panting, the Head Protector likely one of them. He could feel the expectation, the eagerness, for him to collapse, to fall, to lie dead.
With a groan, he straightened, teeth bared in an ugly grin of triumph. Bullets clinked to the ground around him, and for a moment, he debated expelling the ones remaining inside him with more than just a nudge, shooting them back with enough force to sting, at least. But at the expressions on those around him as he simply shed the bullets, blood streaming down and pooling onto the ground, he thought better of it. Instead, he glared around with his one remaining eye, the other a bloody, mangled socket.
“That all you got?” Ed gargled, voice raspy and bubbling as he spat out the bullet that had been lodged in his throat, teeth bloody as he grinned again. “C’mon! Try me!”
“Fire!” Bradley ordered, yet again, but Ed could hear the quaver in his voice. So could the soldiers, apparently, because only a few shot again, and though the impact still hurt, he shook it off easily, beginning to knit the flesh back together.
“I don’t believe it.” Sean’s strangled voice crackled to life over the speakers, apparently clued in by one of the resistance’s radio operators. “He’s… he’s still standing. He’s walking forward. The bullet wounds are closing! He’s alive!”
A low roar built around them, soldiers who had been ready to fight now hesitating, some even dropping their weapons and lifting their hands. The resistance allowed them to leave, as had been ordered, in complete peace. Other soldiers lifted their hands, but didn’t drop their weapons, instead walking over to join the group of civilians, faces hard. Ed silently thanked them for it. Not that he had any judgement for those who had been unable to turn their weapons against their own military, but could see how difficult the defection must be for the others, in shaking hands, in set jaws, in lifted chins as they joined the march towards the center of Central Command.
With none of the firing line left, the fighting mostly stopped, the generals broke and ran.
Plenty of the fighters went after them, but Ed stood there for a moment, panting, healing. He had finally repaired the worst of the injuries when—
“Ed!”
A solid form barreled into him with arguably more force than the bullets. Ed gasped, twisting his head, and saw a face full of chest as he was unceremoniously forced into it, squishing his already sore nose.
“Ow, ow! Fuck, Roy, that hurts!”
Roy pulled back, eyes wild and frantic, looking Ed over furiously. “Are you mad?! You could have died! You could have…”
Ed just let out a laugh, still with a bitter edge, but freer now. “Me? Die? You fucking saw that. It was the only way to prove myself.” He shook his head, allowing himself to be pulled in for another hug, gentler this time. “And I came out of it all right, didn’t I?”
Roy sighed, resting his chin on top of Ed’s head. “You might be immortal, but I’m not. One of these days you’re going to leave me dead from a heart attack.”
“Not allowed. I’m the old one here, remember?”
Roy just chuckled softly, squeezing Ed one more time before he pulled back. A quick clap of Ed’s hands and the blood vanished from Roy’s clothing.
“I still think you’re crazy,” Roy muttered, shaking his head, but Ed didn’t miss the reluctant smile on his face.
“Am not. We won.” Ed reached out to squeeze Roy’s hand, smiling back for just a moment before his face grew somber. “And now it’s time to go after Bradley. We’ve still got some cleanup to do.”
Roy straightened, a steely look in his eye to match that in Ed’s tone. “You’re right. You have a plan?”
Ed tilted his head, reaching his hand into his pocket to play with Russell’s pocket watch, then turned to smirk at Roy.
“Do you trust me?”
—
Right around the moment the State Alchemists joined in, Ed could taste victory.
He hadn’t yet had the opportunity to meet many of the men working under Roy’s command, but they cut an impressive figure, especially Major Armstrong, knocking assailants through the air with a surprising grace. But Ed could only lend so much attention to the others: while nearly everyone split up, covering as much ground as possible to hunt the escaped generals, Ed and Roy went together.
“You’re sure about this?” Ed hissed to Roy as they backtracked away from the central building. “It’s kind of a long shot.”
“Well, now it’s your turn to trust me.” Roy smirked over at Ed, though sadness lingered in his expression. “Being best friends with the head of intelligence had its perks.”
“And he wouldn’t bring anyone else through this tunnel?”
“Bradley? Doubtful. He’d much rather have his other men sent off as decoys while he escapes to the Head Protector’s mansion. We’re all we need to stop him.”
Ed nodded jerkily, eyes focusing on the door ahead of them, slapping his hands together, and sending it flying open as they reached it.
“Mrs. Bradley and her son are likely upstairs. Get them out. We don’t want a hostage situation.”
Ed nodded, letting Roy go his separate way as he took the stairs two steps at a time.
He flung doors open until he heard a woman scream, then poked his head in, trying his best not to look terrifying. With his arm transmuted into a blade, that proved to be difficult.
“Ma’am? We’re gonna need you to vacate the house,” he said, as politely as possible, as she clutched a crying son to her chest. “Promise, we’re not here to hurt you. In fact, that’s exactly what we wanna avoid.”
She took a deep breath, hesitating, but an explosion from downstairs seemed to make up her mind. She nodded frantically, accepting Ed’s hand, and followed him out.
Angry cries and clashing still sounded from inside the house, and she turned back, eyes wide, but Ed blocked her entrance back in. “Hey, no. Look, what matters right now is your safety.” He pointed. “Go. Through the gates. Get out of Central Command. You’re gonna be okay, all right? Just as soon as you get into the city.
A scream, and Ed whirled. “Fuck!” He allowed himself a glance over his shoulder to ensure that she had obeyed, then darted back inside.
He followed the sound of explosions, the smell of smoke, the vibrations of the tremors rocking through the mansion. He clapped his hands together, readying himself—
And when he skidded towards the corner, an anguished scream left him staggering to a halt.
From his position behind the doorway, Ed could see Roy collapsed against the wall, panting raggedly, hand lifted to staunch a wound on his shoulder. The angle gave him a clear view of Roy’s gloves: both of the backs had been shredded, his knuckles bleeding freely, leaving them useless for transmutations.
“You think you’ve won?” Ed heard Bradley hiss, and caught a sword point leveled at Roy’s throat. “You think this is a victory? Of a minor battle, maybe, but we have battalions of soldiers across the country just waiting to come and sweep you back off the map. I’m their great leader. I made Amestris great. They’ll never turn on me, not without evidence. All you have is hearsay. No proof.”
Roy lifted his chin, and the sword dug slightly into his neck, trickling down to the hollow of his throat. “Proof? The people already know what you’ve done. And we have Frank Archer in custody. He’s already confessed to killing Maes under your orders. For your purposes.”
Bradley scoffed. “Archer? He’s the one who pulled the trigger. He’s the one who proposed that we pin Hughes’ death on you. You think he’d confess?”
“Probably not,” Ed drawled, strolling into the room casually. Bradley jumped back, sword at the ready, but Ed only smirked, microphone held out in front of him. “Seeing as he’s dead and all. But, well, you just did.”
Bradley stared in shock: at the mic, at the wire leading out, then out the window, where plenty of the speakers still sat mounted in the distance. Throughout the entirety of Central Command. Through the entirety of Central. Ed simply grinned.
“Aaaand, that’s a wrap, folks!”
Bradley whirled back towards Roy.
“You!” he roared, lunging forward, swords raised.
With a flash of speed he had been hiding earlier, Roy shoved himself to his feet, held his hand forward, and snapped. The gloves sparked, as they always had, but unlike always, the ring on Roy’s finger crackled orange, transforming the sparks into tongues of flame, then into a wall, roaring back at Bradley as it consumed him.
The roars of both turned into the screams of Bradley, and Ed pulled back. “We’re gonna try to save him, guys, but right now I know we have children listening. In the meantime, I want everyone to think on that, think on what you heard him say, and ask yourself, should he have been running this country?”
With a quick jerk of his automail blade, Ed cut the line, then dropped the microphone. He turned to Roy, nose wrinkling at the smell.
“We should probably put it out, huh,” he muttered.
“Probably.” Roy stared at the ball of flame that was Bradley, a sad, contemplative look on his face. Ed hesitated, debating asking him what the matter was, but then Roy shook himself, standing up straight.
Roy clenched his fist, the ring with his array on it glowing yet again, and the fire flickered, then died out. Bradley lay there, smoldering but, if the rise and fall of his chest was any indication, still alive.
Ed grabbed Roy’s hand, tugging him out of the room, away from the gruesome sight. “C’mon. We’ll get him a medic.”
Roy took one deep, shaky breath, then another, following.
“You all right?”
Roy nodded as they stepped out of the house, turning to look up at the façade, then turning away, pausing to take Ed’s other hand as well.
“I can’t believe it’s over, is all.”
Ed laughed softly. “Over? Roy, please. It isn’t even close to being over. We’ve torn it down, yeah, but it’s time to start building back up.”
A rueful grin flickered across Roy’s face as he met Ed’s eyes. Still, Ed could see the hope there, the hint of long-deserved peace beginning to settle. Good. Roy deserved it.
“Yes. I suppose you’re right.”