Title: Comes Back Somehow

author: ursweetheartles

warnings: shonen-ai and m/m themes, definite AU diverging from cannon at set point. Spoilers for that thing with Hughes we're not supposed to talk about

a/n: updating and writing is tough now, with school on again, so bear with me. Unbeta'd so any constructive feedback would be nice, looking for a beta at the moment, mine seems to have decided she likes it in Romania shrug

Disclaimer: i wrote Hirouma Arakawa a nice letter asking her if she'd like to trade FMA for some nice fudgy brownies. i have not heard back but i am hopefull...

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Prologue: The Alchemist's Sin

After the death of Maes Hughes, Roy Mustang was desperate. Maes had been the Colonel's oldest and closest friend, but he had always been so much more as well. Their platonic history had gone on since before Mustang could even remember, they had always been friends. But when they had attended the military academy together, Roy honing his alchemy skills and Maes working on Intelligence, they had become so much more. It had started as a drunken experiment one night, after Roy had been dumped by his long time girlfriend. The flame of what lay between them burned hot and quick, the flames springing to life and dying in violent bursts of energy.

Then, it had been all about the sex, the primal pleasure of being together, and the pure sliding energy that was raised with every action they took together. It had taken a while for it to develop into a deeper connection than friendships and sex partners could ever provide on their own. It had taken much longer for either to admit these feelings, even just to themselves. The words "I love you" were never spoken, though they were felt and they were understood.

When Roy had fallen apart after coming home from Ishbal it was Maes who helped to fit the pieces back together, it was Maes who stopped the colonel from doing anything rash, from trying to bring back the dead, it was Maes who pushed Roy to keep on moving forwards, to latch onto his goals and never let go. So when Maes died there was no one around to still Roy's hand as it traced the patterns of the circles written in his notes, circles designed to do things no circle should ever do.

There was no one to see him crying on the floor of his basement lab, hands shaking so badly he could barely hold the chalk steady. No one to see him press bare fingers to white lines, pushing energy into the symbols and curves he had drawn so precisely. No one to see the form that laid in the middle when the light died. He looked worse for the wear, lying there barely breathing, covered with blood and dirt. Roy had barely seen the form before he had passed out from exertion, a small red stone falling from his hands, no longer glowing with stored energy. But he had, he had seen that face that meant so much to him, saw the soft lips fallen slightly open, the chest rising and falling haltingly. He had seen the curves of the face done slightly wrong, the chest moving too erratically, the bones of the pelvis jutting at unnatural angles.

Then he saw only darkness, and when he woke the form was gone and he had only his tears again, and a new ache in his heart. He had known that it wouldn't work, he had seen the results before, but he couldn't stop himself somehow. He needed to know he had tried everything, even if he had damned himself in the process. Maybe the weight on his soul, this new burden that he buried would erase his old burden's, consolidate them into one dark void of guilt, of emptiness within himself. Maybe this crime would eclipse all the other, and it would tip the scales, finally causing the downfall he felt he was too much of a coward to cause himself directly.

He laid on the concrete for who knew how long, crying until he had no tears, shaking until he had nothing but the cold, but his breath. It had taken footsteps above him, and a familiar voice calling to snap him back into himself. What would he tell the boy in the house above him? The child called his name, concern written in his voice, more concern than he had any right to expect, more concern than he had heard since Maes had passed. He couldn't let Edward know what he had done, for Edward knew the experience too well, the boy had been in this position and had lost so much for it. The colonel's mind snapped back to himself at that thought. But what have I lost? I have my body, all four limbs, all ten fingers and all ten toes, what have I lost in exchange for attempting to grasp the unattainable? Only time shall tell I guess.

And it was only a matter of time before Edward found the door, and Mustang on the hard basement floor struggling to rise still. He didn't stop until he saw those Golden eyes above him, saw the dawning recognition of what laid before him, saw the tears blinked back inside, saw the mouth screw up in horror, in rage, and then finally the face just drawn in sorrow. Edward held him then, cradled him in his lap, and the last thing he remembered before the world went black again was the feel of warm damp cheeks pressed into his shoulder, and hot sobbing breath against his neck.