A Rainy Sunday Afternoon
"Millions long for immortality who do not know what to do with themselves on a rainy Sunday afternoon." - Susan Ertz
A/N: As you can tell, this story is not a romantic one-shot, though I can see how it might be mistaken for such judging by the title. First off, this is a slightly yaoi story, and it is an Ed/Envy pairing, but it also contains other pairings such as Roy/Riza. Plus a few surprise characters make an apperance. This story takes place in the place of the movie, and not before it. It is a sort of alternate ending to the series, though some events from the movie and the manga ties in, but it is usually only characters. References are made to the anime and the lines are verbatim from the show, however, I alternate between the dub and the sub, depending on which one gets the point across more accurately. I never mix and match the sub and dub in the flashbacks. Much of the characters reactions, thoughts, and emotions are written with creative license from the flashbacks, so please don't kill me if you think I'm wrong. I do hope you enjoy this story, because I really enjoyed writing it. Reviews are greatly appreciated and are very much encouraged. I could use as much feedback as possible.
Copyright Notice: I do not own Fullmetal Alchemist or any of it's characters or merchandise. Fullmetal Alchemist is copyrighted by Hiromu Arakawa, FuNimation, Square Enix, bones, and the rest of it's sponsors and supporters.
Chapter 1 - In the Eyes of the Monster
"We must all suffer from one of
two pains: the pain of discipline
or the pain of regret.
The difference is discipline
weighs ounces while regret weighs tons."
- Jim Rohn
With a large yawn, Envy glanced down at the small alchemist, nestling himself against the homunculus' exposed torso with a faint murmur before he stilled and continued to slumber. He truly was exhausted; Ed had been particularly zealous tonight. The boy had run him ragged; tempting him and pushing his desires beyond their breaking point, making him want Ed more than he had the energy to do so. He'd made love to the homunculus with more passion and ardent vigor than he ever had before, which surprised the both of them. Ed hadn't been very animated as of late. He would walk around the modest and weary house they had lived in together for months in a lethargic manner, only speaking when spoken to and only when a reply was needed. He only responded in succinct sentences solely when a grunted or murmured "yes" or "no" would not suffice. At first, Envy suspected the young alchemist was merely ill and had not made any mention of it out of politeness.
In the back of his mind, Envy had a sneaking suspicion perhaps Ed was simply averse in disclosing personal problems to him, though he soon learned this to be untrue. While Ed was especially introverted and reserved since returning to Amestris with the wounded homunculus in tow, Envy knew that Ed was a dead giveaway about his feelings when one learned to distinguish between what he said with his voice and what he said with his eyes.
Anger was not a very subtle emotion for Edward, but his reasons for irritation were frequently discreet. One look at his eyes and it was effortless to perceive whether it was a matter of touching on a sensitive nerve in the alchemist's ego, wounded pride, or an issue of violated morals that aggravated Ed's already touchy temper.
However, all other emotional reactions seemed to be a foreign and unfamiliar concept for Edward. His happiness seemed to be constantly restrained, never letting on to his lover just how pleased he was with their complicated lifestyle. Sadness was something that didn't seem to exist in Edward's mind, at least in the view of others, though Envy had felt warm tears dripping slowly onto his arm in the middle of a cold and disheartening night to know that the former State Alchemist was, indeed, a human being.
Yes, that's right…Ed was a human being, a creature with a mind, feelings, emotions,…and a soul, something Envy was told that he, as a homunculus, still lacked. Envy frequently wondered from time to time if Ed had failed to remember that detail or if he merely didn't care anymore.
"I've finally learned the truth about Equivalent Exchange," Edward had conveyed to him as he tended to Envy shortly after returning from beyond the Gate. "To say that you don't matter would be the same as saying Al or I don't matter. I have no arm or leg and Al was only a soul, but we're still human nonetheless. Even if I were to try my hardest and get nothing in return, what someone is lacking is irrelevant. Soul or not, you're here, breathing, living, seeing, speaking…Who am I to decide if you are human or not?"
Envy broke out of his introspective reverie when he felt his lover stir beside him again. The homunculus looked down to observe the boy cuddle closer to him, his flesh-and-blood arm resting lightly across his chest; the warmth emanating from it was quiet a pleasant sensation. A moment later, his eyes leisurely fluttered open and he let out a yawn. He looked up, his golden eyes hazy with weariness. "You're still awake?" he questioned, his mouth slurring his words slightly in fatigue.
"Just barely," Envy replied, a drowsy smile just scarcely lifting the corners of his mouth, his muscles almost too tired to comply with his emotions. His eyes were already drifting shut and the dim flickering of the candle flame from the nightstand made it more difficult to discern Edward's features in the dark room. He cursed the fact that it was a new moon tonight and that its silvery beams were absent from aiding his vision. It was a disappointing thing, too, for Ed was truly beautiful tonight. "I thought you would have slept all night and into tomorrow afternoon. Is something wrong?" He inquired as he reached up and lazily stroked the soft locks of gold.
He could barely make out his lovers frown before he ducked his head into the crook of Envy's neck, his nose sweetly nuzzling the skin. "Just a dream, nothing out of the ordinary," he answered simply, although the tone in his voice told Envy it irrefutably was something unordinary.
With a gentle sigh, Envy closed his eyes and wrapped his arm around Ed's waist, his palm feeling the taut and well-toned muscles of the young alchemist's back. "Just exactly how long do you expect you will continue to blatantly lie to me," he asked.
Ed was silent for a long while, but Envy could hear his unvarying breathing in his ear and feel it's warmth against his neck. He waited patiently, cognizant that, if given time, Ed would eventually divulge to him, that which was essentially troubling him.
"I saw him again," Ed whispered in a shaky breath. "He…he was b-bleeding everywhere. His blood was on my hands and on my face. I-I could even taste it in my mouth."
Envy's senses shot to attention when he felt Edward's small frame begin to tremble against him.
"He just kept clawing his way towards me," Ed continued, his voice progressively ascending to a horror-filled tone and beginning to grow hysterical and frenzied. "He told me it was my fault that he had his body back, the body that could no longer support his life. It-it was falling apart and parts of him were missing but…but his face was still as it had always been. His face that I haven't seen in almost a decade, those same eyes, same nose, same mouth and voice screaming from it! 'It's all your fault!' he yelled at me. 'Who ever said I wanted my body back!? You've killed me! All this body can do is slowly destroy me once more, just like the first time when you forced my death upon me!'" Ed began to clutch at his lovers body, his nails scratching at his shoulders and chest, breaking the skin and forcing a minute bit of blood to flow to the surface, automail squeezing his arms hard enough to cause bruises. Envy winced slightly, but paid the abrasions and contusions no mind; they would heal overnight. Now, he was more concerned with keeping a hold on Edward's shuddering body that spasmed against him in a fit of pained and despairing dread. It was a challenge to retain his composure as the boy started to heave panic-stricken sobs, tears flowing freely and liberally onto his neck, collar and shoulders. This wasn't the first time Edward had behaved this way. On the contrary, Envy had dealt with this particular concern on many a night. Without the knowledge of what had happened to his younger brother, Ed had always possessed a ceaseless paranoia that his transmutation had failed and that Alphonse had been fated to perish in a slow and agonizing death all alone in that underground city.
Envy could only softly whisper words of encouragement into Edward's ear as he continued to weep. He stroked the boy's hair and rubbed his back in a consoling gesture, the only way he knew to calm and assuage him. Envy wasn't sure how long Ed went on crying and sporadically whimpering his brother's name and innumerable apologies to his brother and lover, but ultimately, after a time, he quieted down, his head resting against Envy's chest, gold eyes half-lidded and dark with a forlorn depression. The homunculus knew that he could do nothing for his lover to allay that dejection; only time could alleviate it now.
"Why are you still here with me," Edward asked, his voice weary and barely audible, his breath hot against Envy's flesh as he felt the boys soft lips moving against it with each word he uttered. He could only lie there, absolutely enervated and somnolent.
Envy slowly leaned down and kissed his lovers forehead affectionately. "The same reason you're probably here."
"I'm sorry," Ed murmured, closing his eyes.
"You have no reason to be," Envy reassured him. "Just sleep, things will look better in the morning."
And just before the two drifted off into a peaceful slumber, free from anxiety from the restful warmth and security in the safety of each others arms, Envy only just heard his lover mumble, "Doesn't it always?"
As the hot sun beat down on Riza's back, she began to ponder if it had been such a good idea to move out of the military dorms at headquarters. The trek between her office and her new home was a lengthy one and was beginning to grow fairly monotonous. With a grunt, she heaved the strap of her bag onto her shoulder as it began to slip gradually down her arm. It was an onerous effort having to carry her paperwork to and from home and work. The stress that had been placed on her mind this afternoon only served to aid the weariness of her body.
"Roy Mustang, you'd better be damn grateful for this," she muttered to herself, knowing full well that her former commanding officer really did appreciate the trouble she went through for him.
After the Fuhrer's death, Roy was instantaneously ousted from the military and stripped of all his honors and tributes for his time in service to the state. Apparently, the Assembly didn't see his overthrowing of a corrupt leader as any sort of compensation for murdering the Fuhrer. She never completely understood their decision, nor did she question it, at Roy's request.
He seemed to be happy now. He was never allowed to be a State Alchemist again and it would take a long time for him to work his way towards the top, but the man appeared content working as an assistant to Sciezka, though his book keeping skills were minimal. Though, the Lieutenant had known Roy long enough to know that appearances were deceiving. Generally, he merely returned Sciezka's books to their proper shelves, delivered requested texts, and helped to organize the offices.
However, the information that was administered to Lieutenant Hawkeye this afternoon was not delivered by Roy Mustang…
Jeffery Hume, the man who had taken over in Roy's place, was quite an unexciting man. He was young, barely older than Master Sergeant Fuery it seemed, and appeared as if he was quite inexperienced in military manners. In spite of this, the man was especially intelligent and eloquent. His tedious nature and behavior was not entirely the fault of the newly instituted General. After the overthrow and death of Fuhrer King Bradley, the country of Amestris was relatively at peace. Needless to say, bordering countries would, from time to time, break out in a small uprising at the borders, but such riots were easily suppressed by the Border Security Officers.
Today, in particular, was a relatively uneventful day for Hume's staff. Breda had been spending his time trying to educate Falman in various card games (and being beaten each time; it seemed that he had forgotten that Falman had graduated at the top of his class in a very prestigious university in West City. Why someone as intelligent as that would spend their life in the military was beyond Riza's comprehension) and Fuery was entertaining Black Hayate with a small chicken bone. Havoc merely leaned back in his chair, his feet up on his desk, that cigarette hanging carelessly from his lips the way it always did. Riza had immersed her attention in a book on military rifle tactics. Occasionally, she glance up from her text, hoping that by a minute chance she would see General Mustang at his desk, deep in slumber with his head on his paperwork. Riza had grown fairly accustomed, in fact she'd go so far as to say fond of, to the General's routine of waiting until the last minute to complete his day's work, then rushing to finish it all, cursing loudly and ordering his subordinates to stall for time throughout the entire ordeal. She mentally laughed when she recalled how Fuery had faked a heart attack to distract Mustang's superiors from coming to collect his paperwork.
General Hume was quite the opposite. When Lieutenant Hawkeye peeked over the top of her book, her new commanding officer was not to be found dozing or swearing; he sat placidly at his desk, quietly and patiently filling out his paperwork with a relaxed smile on his face.
"Dammit, Falman," Breda swore, throwing his "rags" down in front of him. "You're cheating."
"I promise, I'm not," Falman responded looking affronted.
"Then how the hell do you keep winning?" Breda whined as Falman collected the cards up and began shuffling them again.
"It's all a matter of studying probability," Falman stated, smiling cheerfully.
Breda looked up at the man inquisitively. "Probability?"
"Of course," Falman continued. He snatched a slice of paper from his desk and began to scribble down various formulas and equations onto it. "See, by using a sample space of four possible outcomes for each card, thirteen for each suit of course, I can predict what cards you have in your hand and which are in the deck by using the probability from the cards in my hand. If I have a seven and five of hearts, an ace of clubs, and a two and six of spades, that means there's a 3/45 chance that the other sevens are…"
Riza didn't hear the rest of what Falman instructed to Breda. Card games never really interested her and she had other thoughts on her mind, thoughts about General Hume. Something about the young man unnerved her.
Unexpectedly, the General glanced up and spotted Riza staring. She quickly ducked her head back down and continued reading her book, vainly hoping he hadn't noticed her.
"Is something wrong, Lieutenant Hawkeye?" Hume inquired gently.
"Not really, sir," Riza responded, still calmly reading.
"What's that you're reading?" he asked politely, standing up from his desk.
"Military rifle tactics, sir," Hawkeye replied shortly, wishing the man would return to his desk.
Instead he continued to advance towards her, a good-natured expression on his face. "Yes, I did hear that you were quite the sharp shooter before I became a General. I do hope that if any trouble arises, you'll be there to keep the State safe."
"Well, I believe that is my job, isn't it, sir?"
"I suppose it is…" General Hume said lightly. "I've heard great things about you from many of my superiors and from the Assembly. I presume I won't have to worry about anything. You all seem exceptionally dependable."
"That's very kind of you, sir," Riza said, looking up from her book. But the General wasn't looking at her. He was gazing out the window, a far-off look in his eyes and a sad smile on his lips.
It was at that moment that a young man about Fuery's stature stepped into the office doorway and knocked lightly on the doorframe. "I'm sorry to interrupt your work, General, sir," the man stated, looking nervous and a bit flattered at the same time. He must have felt proud to be delivering a message to someone as prominent as a General. "But I have a report from a station in the west." He extracted a large manila folder from his messenger bag, before holding it out to the General.
Hume walked over to the boy and received the document from him. "Thank you, is that all?"
Riza found it bitterly ironic that this messenger was almost the same height as the General himself. The Fuhrer may have been out of power, but the Assembly was making mistakes of its own. Military personnel were getting younger and younger these days.
"Yes, sir, there should be a copy for each member of your staff. If anything is missing, you can contact Private Sciezka to send you another." The boy then saluted the General before turning and walking off with his head held high in pride, practically marching down the hallway.
The General handed a copy of the report to each of his subordinates before opening his own.
Riza opened the document and began to scan over it. She gasped almost inaudibly and was thankful that she wasn't the only one as she heard her comrades around her do the same.
"This can't be right," she heard Breda mumble to himself. "Are they talking about who I think they're talking about?"
"Either that, or someone out west is off their rocker," Havoc commented.
Riza gaped at the report with a horror-stricken look on her face for what seemed like an eternity.
"Is there something wrong with this report?" General Hume questioned, unknowledgeable as to what exactly this document was stating.
Riza shut the report folder abruptly and shoved it hastily in her bag before arising from her seat and heaving her bag onto her shoulder. "I'm leaving for the day," she affirmed tersely. "I'm afraid an emergency has arisen and I must leave. I'm sorry for this unexpected occurrence, General, sir."
General Hume appeared bewildered at the lieutenant's sudden upset and felt far too flustered at her behavior to confront her. "Um...okay, but I'll expect your reports on my desk tomorrow morning," he stammered as she strode to the open office door.
"Don't worry, sir. I'm always very timely with my paperwork," she replied just before exiting the office.
Riza scowled at the thought of the file that rest in her bag. The report was not one of ill tidings, but one of complications for her former commanding officer. His injuries had not completely healed as of yet and news such as this was bound to have him attempting tasks that were beyond his strength at this time. Though, she speculated how she would delay the information from reaching him as he habitually inquired her for information from headquarters every day.
After leaving the military, Roy had persistently tried to stay up to date with military information that he wasn't exactly privy to. So, whenever Riza would return, he requested that she brief him on any new reports that happened to have fallen under General Hume's jurisdiction and of any news she had heard around headquarters.
Riza didn't mind doing this for him; he had been in the military for such a long duration that it wasn't surprising that he felt as if he were being left in the dark now that he was only permitted to view documents that the public had access to as well. Anything beyond that was impermissible by the Assembly.
Riza breathed a sigh of relief as she saw her house not too far down the street. All she wanted now was to get out of the heat and relax.
The house she had purchased was a small one, the closest and most affordable residence to military headquarters, but it suited the woman well. While she hated trudging from the center of town to her house every day, she enjoyed the peace and quiet that came from living outside of the metropolis of Central.
The house was beige with wooden shutters on the windows and a green tiled roof. The front of the house wasn't much to look at; a brown door, a few windows with plain, white curtains, and a small light over the entrance didn't make the house at all extraordinary compared to the other homes around it.
As Riza stepped up the front door, lugging her bag the whole way, she reached into her pocket and fished out her house keys only to find the door was already open. She stared at the door handle for a few moments in wonder before she let out an exasperated sigh. "So, I guess he came home early again…"
She pushed the door open and it let out a faint protesting squeak; Riza had still not found the time to oil the door hinges.
The inside of her new home was quite spacious, despite the dwellings external appearance. The first room entered from the front door was the living room, a large area with wooden floors, a little couch, a wooden bookshelf, a single lamp, and a telephone resting on a white end table.
The lieutenant resisted the urge to drop her bag on the couch and head straight to the kitchen for a cool drink and instead, took it with her as she did every day. She frequently chided Roy for being untidy and it was better to haul her paperwork a few extra feet than to commit herself to being a hypocrite.
Upon entering the kitchen, she promptly dropped her bag onto the dinner table, jostling it slightly and threatening to knock over the salt shaker. With a tired groan, Riza removed her uniform jacket, relieved to get the warm layer of clothing off of her. She frowned at the sight of her white undershirt, soaked in sweat and clinging to her much more saturated black shirt underneath. Quenching thirst would have to wait; she'd have to change out of this sweaty uniform immediately.
As Riza departed the kitchen, she unclipped her hair, letting it tumble down her shoulders. The hairs on the back of her neck were sticking to her skin but that would be resolved after she had a shower, which she intended on taking.
When she reached the stairs she called out Roy's name, only to hear no call in response. Perhaps the man was asleep. It was an unusually hot day and the heat seemed to be taking a toll on everyone's energy. She reached the top of the steps and peeked into his room only to find it absent of Roy's presence. He was home, that much was sure; his things were resting in a pile on his bed: his uniform jacket, his bag, his books, all looked as if they had been carelessly thrown onto the bed. Where Roy was now though, Riza had no idea. She could look for him after she bathed. In all probability, he was most likely out shopping for food for dinner tonight. Riza surmised he would be back by the time she finished with her shower.
She turned and walked to her room instead, which was just across the hall from Roy's, and stepped inside. She closed her door and locked it, not trusting Mustang's statement that he thought he'd lived with her long enough to remember to respect a woman's personal space. It wasn't that she believed he would try and spy on her, she only doubted that he would remember not to burst into a woman's room unannounced.
She unbuttoned her white undershirt with a disgusted look at the sweat covered piece of clothing. It's not that Riza was unaccustomed to getting a little sweaty at work, but having to wallow in it longer than necessary was what made her so uncomfortable. It wasn't a problem for her, nor dirt, nor bruises, nor scrapes of the knee, nor the breaking of a nail if she really had any long enough to break.
She stepped into her bathroom and removed her white undershirt, depositing it in the clothes hamper next to the bathroom door. Next followed her black shirt and her bra, and when she was fully undressed and each article of clothing had been placed in the hamper, she turned to her shower and twisted the taps, the sound of water rushing out of the shower head that followed one of the most beautiful things she'd ever heard. The water was still cold when she stepped underneath it, but she didn't care. She relished in the relief the cool water brought to her aching back and shoulders. The troublesome news could wait, she mused. Right now, I just want to get clean.
Lieutenant Hawkeye released a relieved sigh when she emerged from her shower, finally feeling clean. She reached for a towel that was hung tidily on the rail on the wall and wrapped it around herself before stepping over to the sink and fishing for an extra towel from the cupboard underneath. She draped this towel around her dripping hair and took a look at her clouded mirror. She wiped her hand across it, cursing herself for not realizing that it would leave marks on the glass later.
Riza began to dry off her body and caught the reflection of her shoulder in the mirror. The scar there was still reasonably prominent. She imagined the night she had gotten it had been one of the most terrifying of her life.
Riza could hear her own ragged breathing in her ears as she ran as fast as her legs could carry her. Blood from the wound on her shoulder was dripping slowly down her arm and it pulsed with searing pain, but she disregarded the discomfort. The General was depending on her now; how could she have been so stupid as to not anticipate Colonel Archer's wrath against Mustang? Then again, she wasn't aware that the man was still alive after what had happened to him in Lior. But that was no excuse; it was her responsibility to protect the General.
She spotted the Fuhrer's house just ahead and saw that there was a fire blazing inside it that hadn't yet engulfed the whole mansion. Speeding up, she scowled when she set eyes on Archer standing at the front gate, his back to her.
She made no sign of hesitation as she stopped and fired her gun, once, twice, again and again with tremendous accuracy; the Lieutenant couldn't afford another mistake tonight.
To Riza's great relief, the Colonel wheeled around before falling heavily to the ground. She wasted no time as she dashed past Archer's body and up to the front of the house.
She froze in her tracks when she spied him, her eyes widening in horror at the sight of him lying face down on the front step, his head resting in a pool of blood and a small boy sprawled out beside him. In a moment she was kneeling at his side, shaking him gently. "General?" she stated, her voice trembling, despite her efforts to keep it solid and steady. "General! Dammit, Roy Mustang, talk to me!" But he gave no indication of life.
It all seemed to pile up on her in one terrifying moment; it overpowered her and swallowed her entire being before she even had a chance to realize it. She had failed; her foul-up had cost the General his life. She broke down sobbing, laying her head on his body, as if trying to protect him from what she had already failed to.
Then, she heard it; a faint beat of his heart! He might still be alive!
Carefully, Riza rolled the man onto his back, nearly retching at the sight of his face. That bastard shot out his eye!
"General?" she called out, louder this time as she hastily removed her jacket. "General? Can you hear me?" She began to tear up her jacket, using the scraps to attempt to clean off some of the blood from his face and used the rest to bind his other lesions. She didn't trust to tend to his eye. She may have had medical training, but it wasn't that extensive nor was she that proficient. She took his hand and spied the transmutation circle drawn upon it in blood; he truly was a brilliant man. "Roy, if you can hear me, squeeze my hand."
The Lieutenant waited for an ostensibly interminable moment and a panic began to rise in her again when nothing happened.
Then she felt him squeeze his fingers weakly around her own and felt him move his arm slightly.
"You're alive!" Riza exclaimed happily. "Don't worry, General. Medical services will be along to help you soon." She continued to bandage his wounds, cradling him in her arms, protecting him from the rest of the violent and reckless State of Amestris.
Thank goodness the State's hospitals were so timely, Riza thought to herself as she pulled on a clean, white blouse and black slacks. Such an outfit was a requirement to those who resided in the dorms if they were to ever be at headquarters out of uniform. After moving out, Riza believed it unnecessary to purchase all new clothing, so she continued to don the blouse and slacks. Of course, she had always had the option of a black skirt but the likelihood of wearing something of that nature in Roy's company was slim to none. And all the times the man had tried to persuade her to wear the skirt had only discouraged her further.
After she finished dressing, she left her room and made her way down the hall and proceeded downstairs, fixing her hair back up as she descended the flight of stairs. She heard Black Hayate barking from the backyard and realized it must have been around three o'clock. Fuery would consistently drop off the Lieutenant's dog at home during his lunch break, commonly around this time. The dog was almost certainly out back, chasing after a squirrel or a bird.
She entered her kitchen and began towards the sink, but abruptly stopped at the door leading to the backyard.
She beheld Black Hayate, barking playfully and chasing after grasshoppers and butterflies before he trotted back to the figure lying on his back in the grass, his arms behind his head and his face towards the sun. Riza smiled warmly as she watched Black Hayate nudge Roy's side, imploring him to play. Roy lifted his head somewhat, looking a little surprised, and then smiled, petting the dog's head. Then, he lay back once more and continued his ceaseless staring at the vivid blue sky and the few wisps of clouds that drifted across it.
Quietly, Riza opened the back door and began making her way out to the man, who seemed so absorbed in his thought as to not notice her.
"Did you just get back?" she inquired when she finally reached him.
He turned his gaze to her and smiled fondly. "No, I've been here since early afternoon."
Riza frowned slightly as she knelt down in the grass next to him. "Was there something the matter at work, sir?"
Roy's smile faded and his eyes took on an undeterminable haze. "You know, I was thinking of becoming a Corporal," he confessed, reaching up and pushing a loose strand of hair behind the Lieutenant's ear. "In the North."
"And why is that, sir?"
Roy continued to stare at her and Riza could vaguely see flashing of reminiscences and dreams of the future behind Roy's eyes, as if he were calculating a way to make it back to his position as the Flame Alchemist in his mind. "I want to do all I can to help the State, Lieutenant," he elucidated. "And I'm no help to anyone here." He gave a weak grin. "Besides, how long exactly do you intend to put up with me living off of your salary?"
Riza gave the man a stern look. "Don't say such idiotic things, sir. You know that Sciezka appreciates your assistance and I was the one who offered to take care of you. So stop thinking of yourself as an encumbrance." She softly slapped Roy's hand away from her face, which had been carelessly wandering across her cheek.
The man looked a bit hurt, but his hand slid down to Riza's shoulder instead and placed his palm over it gently. "How is it healing?"
The Lieutenant smiled and lightly touched the dark patch covering Roy's eye. "About as well as yours."
Roy frowned a little and his grip on her shoulder tightened somewhat. "Lieutenant…about that night-"
"Come on," Riza interrupted as she got to her feet. "Let's go inside and start dinner."
He gave her a curious look before releasing a defeated sigh and standing up as well. "If you say so," he stated with a faint smile.
The two of them entered the house and Riza automatically stepped over to the sink and began to wash her hands. "Was there any news today?" Roy asked her as he spotted her bag sitting on the dining table.
Riza tensed at his inquiry but forced herself to make no sign of apprehension in her stance or her voice. "Nothing of any consequence, sir."
"Hmm, it must be a slow day," she heard Roy say before she heard him moving her bag to the chair in the corner. "It's sad that Hume really has nothing to do when there's-"
The man suddenly cut off and Riza glanced up inquisitively. "Is something wrong?" She froze when she saw that manila folder in his hands and a sinking feeling in her stomach ensued.
He opened the folder and began to scan it, his eyes growing more and more stunned with each line. However, along with that expression of shock also came a grim miasma of stern determination. Riza turned her gaze from him, unable to look at his face which only served to ameliorate the augmentation of a sensation of fear and dread for the man's safety and health in her mind.
"When exactly did you intend to tell me about this?" Roy asked his voice disturbingly quiet and solid. Nevertheless, Riza could sense the subtle undertone of a disconcerting mixture of alarm and joy.
"When I thought you were ready, sir," Riza responded softly as she strove to keep her hands from shaking.
"And when, precisely, did you think that would be?"
"When you were fully healed, sir."
"I believe something like that is a doctor's determination, Lieutenant."
"I felt I had a right to protect you, since that is my job."
"Do you think I need protecting from something like this?"
Riza finally looked up at Roy, her gaze stalwart and resolute. "If I'm correct about what you're planning in that head of yours," she said unfalteringly. "Than yes, I do."
It was difficult to tell if Roy was surprised, infuriated, aggravated, or pained by the Lieutenant's statements, but the woman was sure that he was feeling a little of each one at that moment. He held her gaze for what felt to her like hours before he looked away and threw the folder down on the dinner table.
"I'm going out for a bit," he mumbled, walking back into the living room. "I'll be back for dinner."
Riza quickly dried her hands and began to follow the man. "Where are you going?"
"It doesn't matter," Roy replied passively as he took his coat off its hook on the wall.
Riza was becoming increasingly fretful as he pulled on his coat. "Roy, please, just stay and calm down."
"I'm perfectly calm," the man stated, opening the front door. "I'll be back in a few hours."
"Roy," Riza called to him, but he refused to respond. "Roy!"
The front door closed and Riza found herself all alone in her house, a dreary cloud of emotional turmoil hanging over her.
Why am I alive? Why am I still here? Is there some God out there keeping me on this Earth? Does that God really love me that much? Or perhaps he hates me and only wants to see me suffer?
There was another creak of rusted automail as the frail homunculus took another step forward. How long have I been walking?, Wrath wondered. Even with the incessant reminder of passing time through innumerable and inevitable sunrises and sunsets, the concept of time was a complicated one to grasp when wandering aimlessly and despondently day in and day out. Each footfall was laborious and agonizing due to the deteriorating state of the automail leg that had replaced his human limb.
Wrath had done nothing but drift and digress since he left Resembool without any warning to the boy and women who were living there. He had wanted to tell the girl, Winry he believed she was called, that he was going to depart, but had opted not to on the suspicion that she might try and stop him. To his great relief, no one had come after him when he was gone. And why should they? He was in no danger. Nothing could kill him, he still had a few red stones left inside of him to withstand the ferocity of even the strongest creature.
Nevertheless, he recalled when an old man had shot at him a day ago. The bullet had gone straight through the homunculus' left shoulder, yet no blood burst forth from the wound. Though, to Wrath's great surprise, the injury had caused a pain in him so great that he was forced to flee before the man had a proper chance to shoot at him again. The effect of the stones were wearing off, and the bullet had not yet come out of his shoulder. In a few days time, he was likely to be at the mercy of a rather severe laceration of his muscles and would almost certainly bleed to death, with no one around to help him.
As Wrath continued to take slow, weary steps towards an indefinite destination, he looked around to try and discern his exact location. The sun was beginning to set but he could still make out lush green fields, rolling hills, and small houses all connected by thin dirt roads. He gave an embittered smile at the realization that he had come fill circle. He was back in Resembool. It was just the kind of thing to be expected from a wretched creature like himself. He hated people, hated the filthy human race that had created him, yet the moment his life was on the line, he came crawling back to them for help.
"Let me die…" he mumbled as he collapsed in a piteous heap on the ground, his feeble attempts at walking finally failing him completely. His automail was in disarray and he doubted that it was even fixable anymore. He really wouldn't have minded dying right here in this very spot. The grass was somewhat moist with cool dew and the air was pleasantly warm, the contrasting sensations soothing his aching body. "Mommy," he whimpered as he closed his eyes, desperately longing for the woman's company. Wrath did not fear death, however, he feared going into that specters cold grip all alone.
Vaguely in the back of his mind, he heard someone calling his name, crying out for him. His eyes filling with tears, the slight, defenseless boy reached out his arms as best as he could. "Mommy," he sobbed feebly. He felt welcoming arms surround him, cradling him against a warm body, calling out his name the whole time, and Wrath could almost perceive a hint of sorrow and pleading in the voice. He opened his eyes slightly and saw someone there above him, poignant eyes filled with tears that dripped slowly onto his neck, somewhat lessening the numbness of his senses. He felt something being pressed to his lips, followed by the taste of revitalizing water flowing into his mouth. By instinct, he drank the liquid appreciatively, yet still in his mind there was a voice screaming that he should be left to die.
"Hold on, please," he heard the person sob. "You'll be alright, just hold on a little longer."
Wrath didn't need to be told twice. The moment he was no longer being given water, he did as best as he could to huddle against the body that was holding him and fell into an exhausted slumber.
RING!RING!
"Huh?" Winry murmured as she jerked awake. She rubbed her eyes quickly, silently cursing herself for dozing off again.
The phone continued to ring, sounding obnoxious at such a late hour of the day. With a yawn, the young woman stood up from her seat by the window and went over to the table where the phone rest, ringing again and again.
She picked up the receiver, grateful when the ringing finally stopped. "Hello?" she mumbled tiredly.
"Winry? Is that you?"
"Mmhmm, Winry Rockbell speaking."
"Hi, Winry," the voice on the other end said cheerfully. "It's Alphonse."
Winry smiled warmly. "Al, I didn't expect I'd be hearing from you until tomorrow. How's your training coming?"
"Well," Al began diffidently. "Teacher's come down with something so she has to stay in bed for a while, but she thinks she's getting better."
Winry sensed an aura melancholy gloom drift into her mind. It was a wonder that Izumi had lived even this long. She could only pray that this "illness" that the woman had come down with was nothing too serious.
"You see, the thing is," Al continued. "I was wondering if I could come back home and maybe Teacher could stay with us until she got better."
Winry thought on this for a moment. "I don't see why not. Granny said that you were always welcome to come home."
"That sounds great…"Al trailed off for a moment. "Winry? Has brother come home at all?"
"N…no, Al," Winry replied, fighting back the tears that threatened to spill from her eyes. "He hasn't."
"I promise I'll find a way to bring him back, I know he's still alive," Al reassured the girl. "Don't worry, I'll find out how to open the Gate and bring brother back to us."
"I'm sure you will, Al." Winry glanced over at her bed and frowned. "By the way, do you remember that homunculus that I gave Ed's automail to?"
There was a moment of silence before Al answered. "Yes, why?"
"Well, he came back today. I found him outside just before dinner."
"Is he alright?" Al asked, sounding slightly worried.
"He'll be okay in due time," she replied. "He has a bullet lodged in his left shoulder, but if I can manage to extract it and avoid any unnecessary blood loss, he should be alright."
"You can do it, Winry!" Al exclaimed encouragingly. "I know you can!"
Winry laughed softly. "Thanks, Al. So, when should Granny and I expect you?"
"In about a week," the boy responded. "I'll go buy the train tickets tomorrow. I have to go and help Mason now, but I'll try and call you before we leave."
"Alright, take care then," she told him.
"Goodbye, Winry. Give my regards to Granny."
"Goodbye, Al."
Winry heard the click as the other line disconnected and hung up the phone. She turned back to her bed and sighed faintly. She silently stepped over to the bedside and sat down, gazing warmheartedly at the boy who lay there. Truly, the fate of the homunculus had looked grim at first when Winry originally found him, collapsed on the grass a short ways from her house. She thought he was going to die and had panicked at the notion. But after she had given him water, he seemed to improve. Distantly, she wondered how long it had been since he'd had anything to eat. Granny had helped her bring the boy into the house and put him in Winry's bed to rest. It was by sheer luck that she already had stew prepared for dinner that night and when the boy finally awoke, Winry was there with a bowl of the delicious meal to feed him. However, at first, he had seemed hesitant of accepting anything from him.
Wrath gazed at Winry curiously as she offered the bowl to him. "Here," she stated softly. "For you. You should eat and regain your strength."
The boy stared at the bowl and Winry could see the hunger in his eyes, yet he made no move to take the food from her. "I don't want it," he whispered, turning away.
She saw his hand clench into fist against the blankets of her bed, his automail hand having an arduous time closing. "Your arm has rusted up," she observed. "Do you want me to fix it for you?"
"No," Wrath replied, his voice still barely audible. "You don't have to fix it."
"But how do you expect to walk with rusted automail?" She set the bowl of stew on the nightstand and gently took his rusted arm. She felt the boy tense a bit and saw his eyes fill with a sort of anxious fear. "Don't worry, I'm not going to hurt you," she reassured him.
Carefully, she moved each of his fingers, examining the areas that needed to be fixed with a meticulous sight. She did the same with his wrist, elbow, and shoulder. "There's a lot of damage, but it looks fixable," she concluded. "If worse comes to worse, I can make you an all new one."
Wrath looked up at her slightly. "Really?"
Winry smiled down at him. "Of course, it's not too hard."
Wrath glanced away again, looking somewhat embarrassed. "You don't have to make me a new one." His eyes briefly darted towards the stew on the nightstand.
Winry grasped the bowl and held it out to him again. "I know I don't have to, but I want to."
For a minute, Wrath merely stared at the bowl, his eyes showing a sort of struggle between a desire to appear strong and his natural instinct of hunger. But in the end, he took it and began to eat the stew. And as he ate, tears began pouring down his eyes; he truly was a pathetic and wretched creature.
When he finally finished the stew off, Winry took the bowl from him as he continued to cry, sniffling and using his real hand to wipe the tears away. Over time, his weeping and sobbing gradually faded away before he fell asleep once more.
Since he had fallen asleep, Winry had been sitting in the chair by her window, watching over him. Thank goodness the phone had woken her up or she may have slept through the entire night. Reaching over, she soothingly brushed a loose strand of hair out of the boy's eyes.
"Mommy…" he murmured tranquilly before he rolled over onto his side, hugging his pillow against him.
Winry watched the boy contemplatively. She speculated on what Izumi might do when she arrived here next week and finally saw her son once again.