A/N: Soo...This came about like this. I was staring at the cover of my sisters FMA video game and I started to think, 'hm, what is with Ed's clothes?' And then I started to think that, 'there has to be a reason as to why he's wearing those clothes all the time'. And this was the result of that random muse.

"Damn it!" Edward picked up his tattered red jacket off of the ground, holding it in between two fingers at arms length. He wrinkled his nose up, eyes narrowed slightly, as he looked at the ruined piece of cloth with distaste. "I'm gonna have to fix that..."

Some how or another, his coat had been completely destroyed in the fight he'd just been in. Having been literally yanked off his body, sleeves no longer attached, the remaining cloth had been shredded practically to oblivion. There was almost no material left to re-make it with.

He looked the ruined coat over with a critical eye, a child-like voice in the back of his mind telling him exactly how much of what elements he would need to repair it, before making a disgusted noise in the back of his throat and shoving the whole thing under his arms in a ball.

The rest of his clothing hadn't escaped unharmed either, though it wasn't as destroyed as Edward's coat was. The alchemist he'd been after had a furious dislike for the color red it seemed. His vest and his shirt had been torn and a long-section of his pants leg, the right and not the left, was missing. The clothes that he was wearing were covered in blood, both his own and his opponents.

"Ugh, and getting the blood out of these clothes is going to take hours!" He tossed the comment over his shoulder as off-handed as he would have, had Alphonse been the ones with him and not the majority of his Superior officers platoon.

From a spot on a nearby bench, cleaning his hand-gun off, ciggarette firmly planted between two teeth, Havok raised an eyebrow in the blonde's direction. "You're actually going to try and clean that, Boss?"

Edward blinked, golden eyes shining with confusion for a moment, before he let out a scoff. "Yeah. It's not like I own any other clothes to change into." The look on his face clearly stated that it was something Havok should have known already.

"You don't?" That time it was Breda, looking up from where he was already getting started on filling out his part of the paper work.

"Nope. I've got this and then I think I still have a winter coat shoved somewhere in a closet at Granny's." Personally, Ed didn't see why his clothing was suddenly a big deal to the soldiers. It wasn't like he'd changed anything in the past four years that he'd known them.

"So...If those are all you own...Why'd you chose them, Boss. I mean, red's not exactly your best color." Havok pulled the rag across the barrel of his gun once more before shoving it back into his pocket and looking over at the younger soldier.

Edward stiffened slightly, a blank look quickly setteling on his face. "You wouldn't get it if I told you."

And then he was sweeping down the alley way towards his dorm, coat still tucked under one arm, leaving behind a confused lieutenant and a rather interested Colonel.

-0-0-0-0-

Roy found Edward a few feet outside of his dorm room later that day. He'd expected Edward to get there before he did but, instead, Roy had been waiting for a little more then an hour before the boy actually showed up.

He was carrying a brown paper bag in one arm with what looked to be his jacket shoved into it. The rest of his clothes were still covered in blood, the crimson there now dried and crusted, but his pants were no longer missing part of their fabric.

The blonde didn't notice that Roy was standing there right away. He was too busy shifting the bag around and trying to pull the key out of his pocket. But then he happened to glance over Roy's way, what for Roy didn't know, with a completely unsurprised look on his face. "Do you need something, Mustang?"

"Actually, yes." Roy pushed himself away from the wall and gave the younger alchemist a critical look. "What you were saying earlier got me thinking...Why do you wear that outfit?"

Once more, the flaxen-locked alchemist stiffened. Then his shoulders relaxed slightly and his customary scowl was on his face again. "What makes you think that I'd tell you of all people, Mustang?"

And while Roy knew a retort like that unavoidable, it still stung to actually hear Edward say it. He knew that the younger boy didn't like him but, still, he thought that by now he would have trusted him. But he was determined to find out what was so secretive about the boys choice in dressing."You don't know how many people are out there sticking there necks out for you, do you?"

That, however, got a different response from Edward then Roy was expecting. His whole body seemed to get darker, his fiery gold eyes aging to a spot far beyond his years, and the look that he gave Roy was one of pure rage and disgust.

"Yes I do!" Ed spat out at him. "I know exactly how many people are getting hurt and dieing because of me and my mistakes! That's why I wear these clothes! To warn them the best that I can. Let them know that I don't bring anything good with me; just blood and death."

Even the boy's voice had changed. It was darker, heavier, than it had been moments ago when Roy had first spoken to him. There was something akin to loathing in his voice and it was with a start that Roy realized the disgust he'd heard wasn't because Roy had asked the question, no, it was because the other boy was disgusted with himself over the answer.

A pang of guilt shot through Roy, for a reason he couldn't decipher, and he opened his mouth to say something to the golden eyed youth. Before he could get anything out though, not that he knew what he'd be saying, Edward has started talking again; still in that awful tone of voice that made Roy's stomach ache with pity for the younger boy.

"They say that I'm the Hero of the People but really...I can't save anyone. The best I can do is warn them away from me and hope they listen." And with that, face and voice suddenly carefully blank, Edward was sweeping into his dorm room and closing the door in Roy's face.

And Roy couldn't help but feel a little bad for asking the flaxen-haired alchemist about his clothing; even though at the time it had seemed like a simple question.