Disclaimer: I do not own Fullmetal Alchemist, Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood, or any related characters. Just the plot.
WARNING, PLEASE READ: This fic contains descriptions of self harm. It could be potentially triggering, so please be cautious while reading if you have self harmed in the past. (Also, if you have cut in the past, or you do now, please know that there are people who care, including me. Even if I don't know you, I don't want you to hurt. Stay strong loves.)
Also, I hope none of you take issue with the fact that I made it as though Envy had lived past Brotherhood. I had to. If you don't like that, sorry, this fic isn't for you.
Please review~
The last time Roy had seen Alphonse Elric, he didn't look that healthy. Having just gotten his body back, Al had been frail and withered. Now, his face had fleshed out along with the rest of him, and for all intents and purposes, the boy looked fine.
Aside from the pallor of his face and the shaking in his hands.
Roy stood at his desk, alarmed by the sight. "Alphonse? What's happened? I didn't know you were back in Central…"
"It's Brother." Al's tone was soft, serious and even a little frightened, but Roy couldn't help but sigh. Wasn't it always Fullmetal? Or rather, Edward, as he was no longer a State Alchemist…strange how the boy could still get into trouble, get hurt, even after leaving the military.
"What's he done this time?" Roy asked. "And why come to me?"
"Please," Alphonse begged, still pasty pale. "He's in the hospital; I don't know how to deal with this. You're the first person I thought of to ask…I trust you, and I know Brother kind of looks up to you even though he's never acted like it and…" the boy trailed off.
Roy didn't understand. "What exactly happened? He's gotten hurt plenty of times, you're more than capable of keeping him company on your own, I don't—"
To his surprise, Al grabbed his hand, clutching it in both of his own. The boy's palms were clammy, sticking slightly to the surface of Roy's glove. "Please! I—I can't explain what happened. I don't even think I can say those words." Alphonse closed his eyes and took a deep breath. "Listen, you have to come. I wouldn't ask if it wasn't important. Brother's…he's really messed up, and he needs your help—I need your help. You'll understand once you see him."
Roy looked down at the boy. Alphonse's eyes begged him silently, wet with unshed tears. His mouth tightened. He didn't like it, but whatever Edward had managed to get into this time must be serious. An he had to admit, the brothers' closest relatives were all the way back in Risembool; who else were they supposed to call on while in Central? Roy removed his hand from Al's grasp. "Fine, then. Lead the way."
Alphonse sighed in relief, turning and walking out of Roy's office. They didn't make it five feet before being stopped by a certain Lieutenant, who stared at them blankly.
"General Mustang, have you completed your paperwork?"
Roy sighed. "No, but—" he stopped as she pointed her gun at him; he hadn't even seen her draw the weapon.
"Lieutenant, please!" Alphonse begged, grabbing her arm. Roy stepped to the side slowly, taking himself out of the line of fire just in case the boy's jostling should result in a shot fired. "He has to come see Brother, it's important!"
Hawkeye stared at the boy dispassionately. "How important?"
Al let out a frustrated groan. "Look, he's in the hospital—"
The Lieutenant scoffed. "Isn't he always?"
"—in the psych ward!"
Both Roy and Hawkeye stared at the boy, the latter remaining silent but tucking her gun away after a tense moment. "Go on, then," she said. Alphonse scurried out of the door, pulling Roy behind him.
"Alphonse," Roy asked, matching the boy's stride as they made their way down the street. "Why would Edward be in the psych ward?"
Al didn't give an answer, but sped up as the white building came into view.
He stopped at the hospital's front desk, joining the line that had accumulated there, and Roy snorted. He kept walking, flashing his State Alchemist's watch at the staff as they opened their mouths. Said staff pursed their lips, but remained silent, and Alphonse scampered to catch up with Roy and take the lead. He could have laughed, if the situation wasn't so serious. Ah, the perks of being part of the military.
Upon reaching what Roy presumed was Edward's room, Alphonse stopped suddenly, almost causing Roy to crash into him. Al hesitated, turning to Roy. "He's probably still asleep, but even so, don't say anything sarcastic. I don't know how he'd take it if he happened to hear you, in this state…"
"Just open the door, Alphonse." Roy was impatient; he needed to know why he had been brought here and what Edward could have done to be put in the mental hospital. In a fit of ill-timed comedy, he wondered if it had anything to do with the boy's aversion to milk.
Al swung open the door and walked inside. Roy watched him carefully, disturbed by the hunch in the younger Elric's shoulders.
If that was distressing, it was nothing compared to the state of the boy on the bed. Any potential witty comment died in his throat as Roy took in the scene.
Edward was dressed in a hospital gown, his hair flowing freely. Roy couldn't recall the last time he had seen it that way; it stuck him as oddly obscene, as if Ed were being bared, weak and vulnerable, for all to see. But that was nothing. Immediately, Roy's eyes were drawn to the bandages on Edward's arms, stretching from wrist to elbow on both limbs.
The psych ward and arms covered in gauze. No. It couldn't be.
"Alphonse?" Roy didn't mean to whisper; it just seemed natural. Though he could clearly see Ed's chest rising and falling, his brow creasing occasionally in reaction to whatever dreams he was having, Roy felt as though he was in the presence of death. He didn't want to speak lest he wake up whatever monster had caused this.
"Yes, it's what you think it is." The boy spoke in a monotone, eyes transfixed on his brother. "It's unbelievable, I know. Like I said before, I can't even—can't even say it." Alphonse swallowed thickly. "Brother cut himself."
Roy couldn't say anything, too stunned to think. How could this happen?
Al, on the other hand, couldn't seem to stop talking now that he had started. "I found him doing it. He'd already cut up one arm when I was in the door, and his legs too—you can't see, but he's got bandages all up and down his thighs. Brother was halfway up the other arm when I walked in…he was kneeling, crying, and when he looked up at me he was so…distant." Roy saw the telltale glint of a tear sliding down Al's cheek. "It reminded me of just after we tried to bring Mom back. He kept going, and I grabbed the blade away. At that point he had lost so much blood…he passed out. Brother hasn't woken up since."
"When was this?"
"This afternoon," Alphonse sniffed, wiping his eyes. Roy glanced out the window, at the sun nearing the horizon as it began to set. "I just—I just don't understand. Was it me?" Al looked to him desperately, guilt shining in his eyes.
"No," Roy said, voice stronger than it had been since he entered the room. "No, there's no way this was about you. Edward loves you more than anything; look at what he gave up bringing your body back. Whatever he was thinking of when he did this, it's not your fault, Alphonse."
The boy walked a few steps and collapsed into a chair beside Ed's bed. Roy, looking around for the first time, realized that the room was vacant, without even another bed for any additional occupants—just two chairs. It was also carefully composed, with nothing sharp to be seen. This room was meant for a single, long-term patient and his or her rehabilitation. It should have made Roy feel better, knowing that Edward was in a safe place, but it just made him sad.
He took up residence in the only other chair, placed on the opposite side of Ed's bed. Alphonse spoke.
"I just need to understand, you know? I need to know why he did this…"
Roy couldn't agree more. How did someone so strong end up doing something as unspeakable as self harming? Why would Edward want to?
He sighed. "Well, I guess we'll just have to wait for him to wake up."