Disclaimer: obviously, I do not own FMA.

A/N: This is the companion piece to Beauty in the Breakdown, which is the same scene told from Ed's point of view. I advise reading it first, but this is not a must. This one is told from Roy's perspective and extends a little further than Beauty in the Breakdown. This contains Roy/Ed slash; you have been warned, don't claim you haven't. The title for this piece and the idea "fire's a beautiful sound" come from the Something Corporate song "Only Ashes". I suggest listening to it, but it is not necessary to understand the plot.

No flames please, though constructive criticism is welcome.

This story will probably be continued under Beauty in the Breakdown, which, as it goes on will be told through alternating pov's. Only Ashes will probably be added as chapter two of it eventually.Enjoy!

Only Ashes

At first, I wasn't sure that I should enter. Of course, I was almost certain that the noises I was hearing were muffled sobs, but I also knew Alphonse was in Rizembool until tomorrow and this was Elric we were talking about here. I had seen him cry only once over Tucker's failed anthropomorphic chimera.

Well, just to be safe, I knocked.

I waited a moment. And I received no "fuck off" and no answer, so I figured it was safe. I slowly pushed the door open, a little surprised to find it unlocked, especially if it turned out that there was no one here. I'd have to lecture the shortie about security again, which, contrary to popular belief, I did not enjoy.

But there was someone here. I could discern that when the volume of the weeping increased as I progressed. I peered over at the window seat for a moment. Perhaps I wasn't seeing correctly; there were no lights on and it was a fairly rainy afternoon.

"Full Metal?" I ventured.

When he turned, I was proven right in my guess. And the expression on his face...it was not anger at my presence, or shock, or anything of the sort because for once, he was not censoring himself around me. Instead, the emotions he had been experiencing before I came were bare in his eyes. And I knew that look. I had had that look. When the guilt consumes you, when every sin you've committed is done with and only ashes remain. Fire had been such a beautiful sound before Ishbal. Before the screams in my head had drowned it out.

Seeing it in him nearly choked me.

"I knocked," I finally managed. He simply returned his gaze to the window. His crying was definitely quieter now, but it had not by any means ceased. And before my mind could really register what I was doing, I was approaching him. I couldn't explain my sudden need to comfort him. Maybe it was empathy. Maybe I was paying forward the favor Maes had years ago payed me. Maybe it was some nameless emotion I had been feeling for some time that was only just now seeing an outlet. Whatever the reason, I laid a hand on his shoulder.

When he hiccuped in surprise, I smiled and was about to comment before I thought better of it. This was hardly the time for one of our trademark shouting matches. This was hardly the time for words in general. So instead of insulting him or telling him that I understood, I did what I had been wanting to do since he had been no more than an eleven-year-old boy bleeding on the Rockbells' couch. I took him in my arms.

Needless to say, I half expected him to shove me away. Actually, I fully expected him to shove me away. He didn't. Rather he collapsed into me. In fact, I could have sworn he smelled me, but he may have just been sniffling. When he burrowed his nose into my neck, my grip tightened and I shushed him – a reassurance that I was there and I wasn't leaving as long as he still wanted me. I knew there was no one else he felt he could do this with. Al maybe, but not even that without burdening the boy further. So when I sensed he was calming, I said:

"You can let go, you know."

And he began to cry harder again. I was vaguely aware that my uniform was getting soaked with his tears and I don't know how long we stayed there, but it didn't matter. I could have sat there forever. I was finding I liked this side of Edward. I could relate to it better than the angry façade he usually erected.

Eventually he gave a long sigh and pulled back enough to see my face. He stared at me for a while before raising his right hand and tracing an un-gloved metal finger down my cheek.

It was when he began to lean in that I had a sort of out-of-body experience. The rational side of me was hovering above me, watching my actions, yelling in my ear that I was his commanding officer, that I was too old for him, that both of us had too much baggage to deal with the other's. And then there was my body, which was too focused on the feel of Edward's lips pressing against mine to listen.

As quickly as it began however, it ended. I thought perhaps he would smirk and say "gotcha, Bastard." Instead, I heard: "Thank you."

And there went my body without my mind again, initiating the contact myself this time. I had a feeling this was going to wind up being the death of me. This taste...I could easily learn to crave it. Ed was different than kissing my many and varied dates, I realized as I deepened the kiss. It had gone from sweet to more in just a few seconds and he responded with so much more passion. So much more fire. I could hear it roaring in my ears.

Perhaps fire was still a beautiful sound.

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