Avalanche
By: Song
Summary: Ed never expected his life would depend on Roy Mustang's survival skills.
Summary V1: If anyone had told Roy Mustang and Edward Elric they would be sleeping together by the end of the week, they would have laughed hysterically before quickly changing the subject.
Paternal!RoyXEd.. or perhaps camaraderie. No, seriously, this isn't yaoi.
Everything had started out normally enough. So normally in fact, that if anyone had told a Colonel Mustang and Edward Elric that they would be sleeping together by the end of the week they would have laughed hysterically at the sheer absurdity of the whole thing before quickly changing the subject in disgust.
That being said, nothing in Edward Eric's life could ever be considered "normal".
It began with a request from a small mining town in a high valley between two mountains just shy of the Border of Drachma. Not quite so far as the Briggs, but close enough to warrant the presence of two State Alchemists instead of the usual one.
The mission was simple enough; reinforce the mine so the workers could safely extract the various precious metals that the Amestrian Economy depended on. Normally this much effort would not go into one such small and insignificant mine- however it was this particular mine that supplied the electrum for the official pocket watches.
Unfortunately said pair of State Alchemists never made it that far. In fact, they never even made it up the mountain.
The two alchemists were happily ignoring each other in the only heated car of freight train in which they were traveling. Due to the remoteness of the township, the only transport was the train which supplied goods to and from the small mining community.
Edward was reading the debriefing on the mission (as well as what little he could discern from a manual about mining)- the sooner he could get out of the snow and ice, the better. Automail and cold weather DO NOT mix. At all. Ever. End of story.
Mustang was quietly snoozing, a small snot bubble expanding and contracting in time with his breathing.
The train was glided along the tracks, groaning and shuddering at the cold weather as it climbed. To one side, a mountain painted with snow-covered trees, not unlike the kind Ed and Al used to decorate during the holidays as children. On the other side, a steeply sloping facets where many years of freeze-thaw cycles had caused the trunks of trees to shape like bows as their branches reached for the clouded heavens. Below, a lake frozen into a mirror like surface reflecting the grey sky. Beyond that were the silhouettes of a far away range cloaked in the snow blown from their peaks. Somewhere between here and there the firs thinned becoming sparse and spindly forming the tree line.
They were due at the town just as darkness was to fall- and though the sun could not be seen through the generous cloud cover, it was little past noon.
The higher the train climbed the thinner the air became and the more Ed noticed his automail. Normally it was something that was just there- another hurtle to jump in his quest for the Philosopher's stone and restoring Al to full humanity. That being stated, the higher the altitude and the colder it got, the more sluggish and painful his automail became.
It made sense in that aspect. Nerve transmission is an electrochemical impulse and as the chemicals within the wiring would move more slowly as the energy was sapped by the cold air and his automail became sluggish. Of course, his body temperature did not flux with the altitude, hence more painful zaps from the marriage of flesh and steel.
Flakes began to drift lazily past the windows adding to the picturesque scene. Frost crystallized on the outside of the glass, while the windows fogged up in the compartment. Yawning and stretching, Ed placed his reading material on the floor, leaned back and decided that Mustang, for once, actually had a decent idea.
When Ed next awoke it was to a thunderous sound similar to that of the ocean or white water rapids- a deep groaning like the very earth itself was falling apart. Before he knew what was going on, he was upside down, sideways, backwards and a few other directions that have no official names. An odd sense of vertigo gripped his inner ear as the world righted itself to an disorienting and endless expanse of white. The last thing he remembered hearing before all consuming gray took over his visual cortex was the distorted voice of his commanding officer.
Colonel Roy Mustang, bless his devious little soul, knew what was happening as soon as he came too- which was thankfully some time before his subordinate, as he had enough time to brace himself for impact. He was dazed from the crash, but conscious and for the most part alive... if slightly worse for wear.
Ed wasn't as lucky. Bruises were already beginning to form beneath his skin- a nasty looking goose egg had found it's place at his temple complete with blood as it attempted to hatch. The automail arm looked like it was the culprit as it has a smear of blood, a few golden hairs and what looked suspiciously like a flap of skin were caught up in the machinery. It was a valiant fight though, as Ed's head had done about as much damage to the prosthetic limb as the prosthetic had done to him. He was fairly hard headed. Roy would be very, very surprised if the arm still worked. He would also be surprised if Ed's brains weren't at least slightly addled from the altercation as well. (There would be no way to tell until he regained consciousness. Even then it might be a bit of a challenge.)
That was not to say that Mustang didn't have his own collection of bumps and bruises, but he was fully awake- unlike Ed.
Speaking about the small blond- "Ed? Ed? You awake?" He questioned as he shook the (much) smaller alchemist.
All he received in answer was a guttural "Guhh!"
Nope. Not awake then.
"Damn," he swore softly.
What used to be a floor was now the ceiling, or would have been, were it rotated another 30 degrees. As it was, the car was sort of laying its corner obviously kept in such an awkward position by the snow. Those nice, soft chairs were also useless now. A number of the windows were broken allowing frigid air to flow through the car, quickly sucking the life from the compartment. Snow had already begun to drift inside, piling rapidly in what was quickly evolving into white out conditions.
A grim realization took hold of the CO at that moment.
If he waited for for rescue, both he and Fullmetal would die.
Question for upcoming chapters- to squick, or not to squick? Review and tell me what you think!