Opening Doors by Dib07

Summary:

Post-Fullmetal Alchemist series.

To think that he may never have opened that door.

Warnings:

- Much of this story will contain mature and/or dark content not suitable for younger readers. Do not be frightened by what I write, but I am an adult writer and I do not shy away from what others may otherwise do so. Also, Edward. Yes. Edward.

Pairings:

- Parental. There may be some moments between characters, but there is no romantic connection.

Disclaimer:

I do not own Fullmetal Alchemist. Neither do I make a profit. I write this out of my own time.

'Cover my ears, cover my eyes

Don't tell me the bad news

I'll go for years, wondering why

Was there something I could do

That's not right, that's not true

Tonight is a bad dream.'

Bad Dream – Ben's Brother

Chapter One: Unhappy Debacle

"Hey, Al, when's dinner ready?"

It was seven minutes past eight at night. The first of the stars had been joined by other stars as the sun winked out over the hard rim of the industrial horizon. It was cold, not as cold as it had been, but the wind had picked up and was steadily howling over the city. Edward had got home not long before dark, and even now he still wore his blue Alchemist State uniform. It was too military for his liking, but being part of the regiment, he had little choice but to accept. Besides, he was in the same rank Roy Mustang used to be in not long after they first met, before Roy shot up the leadership ladder.

Alphonse smiled back. "Nearly. Just give it a couple o' minutes."

A couple of minutes was enough. Edward threw off his clothes in the bathroom and ducked into the shower before he had given it enough time for the water to 'heat up.' The cold was unbearable, but he tolerated it somehow as he quickly doused his thin body in shampoo. He pulled the band loose from his hair and allowed it to fall loose over his shoulders like threaded gold.

He rose his face to the 'now warming' water with his eyes shut, thinking about the day. It had been mostly uneventful. Nothing to boast at, no victories won either. Just a hum-drum day with that god-awful Roy Mustang. Roy liked to throw his weight around, and he sure as hell enjoyed being the king amongst his rabble of troops. It was days like this that got Edward down, but his spirits soon rose when he finally got home to spend some time with his younger brother.

He turned the tap and the water chugged and slowed to a stop from the towering showering head.

Dripping, still cold, Edward opened the shower partition and grabbed a towel, wrapping himself up in it and then grabbing a second to mop at his soaking hair. The smell of dinner came through the partly opened bathroom door and he tried to guess what it was that Al was cooking. It smelled of chicken and rice. Or was it noodles and chicken?

Strange. He certainly didn't feel hungry. In fact, he hadn't eaten all day. True, there hadn't been much time to sit down and open your pack lunch. Roy had seen to that. But there had been time to grab something at the food vans starting to appear down West Street. They had rice balls, some chicken fried stuff... and puddings of a strange sort.

He put his lack of hunger down to being overworked. Roy had given him little time to relax, and what time was there, when there were streets to patrol? Unstable people to keep in check?

Work was never finished. And even though Roy was a bully, Edward did feel bad that he was always working overtime, not going home until late. In fact he was probably still at the office now, filing away reports and flashing out signatures. That man never knew when to quit. The stupid bastard. It was about time that Mustang settled down, took some leave and had a family.

A real family.

Lord knows, he needed it.

Edward padded into their bedroom in bare feet, still dripping. He grabbed the hairdryer on the floor, switched it on and gave his golden hair a good, long blow. By the time he was dry and was wearing new clothes that consisted of a black shirt and pants, he returned to the kitchen to find that Alphonse had already set the table and had served the food. It was noodles and fried chicken balls with sauce. It looked appetizing as hell, and smelled delicious. Alphonse was one master cook. But Edward looked at the food with dull eyes. He had no appetite for it. And he felt bad. Al had probably spent hours getting this all ready, and he felt ashamed.

"You okay, brother?" Al asked as Ed sat down at the table. "Good day at work?"

"You could say that. I didn't get my head bitten off this time, if that's what you mean."

Al looked at him suspiciously as if he wasn't sure if Edward was being honest or not. Edward usually came home spitting feathers; hot mad about Roy or some other dumb petty officer. And he'd rant for hours, well into the night, sometimes even waking at odd hours after the lights had been turned off when he would suddenly remember someone who had stepped on his toes.

But Edward was quiet this evening, tired even, as if he had undertaken a great journey all in one day.

"Well, what happened?" Al pressed.

Edward looked bleakly down at the steaming food before him, delicious yes, but not to him. He lifted up his chop sticks and made to eat, hoping that a few morsels would reawaken some form of hunger, be it true or otherwise.

"Some scumbag down in the east part of town was selling diamonds illegally. Or so we thought at first. It was some old woman claiming it was her son's business and all that gibberish. I ordered the investigation and had the diamonds confiscated. Then Old Roy turns up and inspects the stones. He took ages, the bastard. Then he turned to me and said I needed a better pair of eyes."

Alphonse looked at Edward incredulously, not sure where Edward was going with this. "Why?"

"Those damn diamonds had been crafted to hide something within. They could be opened, like little boxes. I never even knew. Never even looked. They hid toxins. Toxins that could kill a man easily once mixed with alchemy. And I mean basic alchemy. Just add water, or blood, and you've got one of the most deadliest poisons in the world. Even breathing it in can kill. So yeah, I fucked up a little, so what? But Old Roy... Roy, Roy..." Edward blankly looked at the rice on his plate before nibbling at it from his chopstick. It tasted so good, so soft. But he swallowed it down with great reluctance. "I should've known better, was what he said. Didn't promote me to being first officer for being blind, he said."

"So, it was a mistake! You can't know everything!" Alphonse defended quickly. "No one else spotted the diamonds being false, right?"

"Roy wants me to be the best. He doesn't care 'bout the lackeys. I think... I think one day, Roy wants me in his place. So he's doing all he can to be a dick towards me. Hell, I can take him. Just annoying is all, yelling at me in front of the lackeys and still calling me a runt. Even behind my back, the dick. Oh well." He started to eat a little quicker, trying to make it appear that he was liking the food. But it just wasn't working on the inside. His stomach refused to acknowledge the victuals.

"Maybe you should take a day off." Al suggested as he tucked into his plate. "Roy's been working you real hard. Just go to his office and ask for some time off."

Edward laughed. It was good humoured laughter, but when he had settled down, Al was watching him crudely. "Asking Roy for some leave time is like asking a wolf to spare the lamb. What a joke! I think he'd either laugh at me, or expect me to be missing both my legs to get the time off."

Alphonse went back to his food. "You could at least try."

Edward shook his head. "Naw. I know what I'm doing, Al. Don't worry about me. You just stay home, and stay safe. There are too many lunatics out there. Too many."

xxxxxxxxxxxx

That night, Edward lay in bed, wide awake, despite the fact that he had been working an eleven hour shift. Alphonse, sweet Alphonse, had gone straight to sleep, and was snoring softly beside him. They slept in a double, mainly because their attachment for one another had remained greater than ever, and insecurity struck them whenever they were apart. It was not love in a sexual sense. Just brotherly. In fact, Edward wanted Alphonse to go out there and grab himself a girl. But after what they had been through, it was possible that Alphonse was just not ready for it yet. There had been too many hardships, too many battles. Too much death. Even now, a year after Al had got his body back, he seemed no more confident. No more secure.

They relied on each other too much.

Edward looked over to the window. The curtains had been drawn, but he could still see the slender crescent of a moon shining through the diaphanous material. There was an ache in his joint, the very joint his metal arm was attached to. And across his chest another deeper ache. He jotted it down to work, be it stress or just pure labour. Things had been uneasy these last couple of days, and he began to wonder if Roy was actually a droid, a tireless, work-alcoholic droid that never stopped.

Edward turned over so that he lay on his right side. His golden hair spilled over the pillow like fine silk. The half-moon glow shone along it, making it glitter and sparkle.

He closed his eyes and tried to sleep.

xxxxxxxxxxxx

The next morning, he woke up feeling like his mind had been clogged up. He rubbed at his eyes, noticing how heavy his head felt as he lifted it from the pillow. He couldn't remember when it was he had fallen asleep during the night. His dreams had been crazy, half-wild things that slipped from memory the harder he tried to grip them.

Alphonse had already got up and left, probably making breakfast downstairs. He always had been an early riser, leaving Edward to snooze.

Edward peered at his alarm clock through the fingers of his normal hand to see that it was seven in the morning. Late! Why hadn't the damn alarm gone off? Had he even set it last night before going to bed?

He immediately sat up and brushed the sheets from his legs. Golden hair fell about his face.

Roy was gonna kill him! And sell his metal limbs to a filthy scrap yard!

He left the bed too fast - his head suddenly swarmed with fever and his eyes saw nothing but fog as if his eyes had been covered by greasy film. He fell awkwardly and hit the bottom of the closet. The closet rattled a little, then went still. Angrily, Edward propped himself up against the side of the bed, rubbing his eyes fanatically. The fog lisped away and the world was once again revealed in full colour and detail. He looked fraught, gazing this way and that, expecting the fog to re-descend all over again. The ache he had felt last night, deep almost to a point of a heavy sharpness as if there was a blade pressing into his ribs, returned. And this time it did not shift.

He rubbed at his port: the armpit below all the centric wires and tubes. There was little doubt that the ache and stiffness was coming from his automail parts.

Edward returned heavily to his feet and blundered over to the wardrobe to retrieve his uniform and underwear. He pulled off his pjs and hurriedly slipped on his day clothes, aware of the time and aware of the pressure across his chest from the weight of his right arm.

"Fuck, fuck!"

Roy was going to strangle the living shit outta him! And then possibly not promote him for a hundred years.

Dressed haphazardly in his uniform, his coat tails sticking out of his trousers and his shoe laces untied, his golden hair still loose, he skirted round the landing and hurried down the stairs. He could smell bacon and toast wafting from the kitchen, but didn't care for it.

His work bag, a brown neat, leather case was already waiting for him by the front door. He grabbed its aged handle and threw open the door. "See ya, Al!" And then walked into the cold, dozy daylight and closed the door behind him.

Shit! He didn't give himself time to pee! He'd have to do it at the office! They had toilets! He didn't like to use them though. They were cold, clinical things, and there was never any toilet paper. And if there was, it was the cheapest, scratchiest kind that gave cactus leaves a run for their money.

He ran along the street, then across the road hauling the leather satchel after him. On the corner of Roundhill shop, he paused just long enough to expertly twirl his dangly hair into a braid, fixing it at the end using a band. Then he was off again, nimble as a gazelle as he flew through traffic.

I should really get myself a bicycle. He thought, not for the first time that week.

By the time he got to work, his skin was flushed with sweat and the ache had wormed its way through his ribs to his heart. He found that every time he went to inhale it just made the pain even bigger until it was swelling up inside him like a balloon. He went to the front desk, signed his name in (it was such a hurried scrawl that even he himself could read it) and hurried up the first flight of stairs to Roy's office before the receptionist could even greet him.

Hot, flushed and breathless, he powered his way up the stairs and down the corridor. He could hear his fellow colleagues through the rooms as he passed: talking over coffee, typing up letters on typewriters and laughing with their friends.

When he got to Roy's office door, he found that it was shut. Sometimes, on occasion, it was open, particularly on summer days when even the early mornings were lucid and hot. Today it looked as confrontational as a doomsday device.

Grappling for courage - courage that he had more than his fair share of during his boyhood, Edward clutched the handle and pushed it down, using his weight to open the door.

Roy was sitting behind his desk as usual, writing up letters and scratching out signatures. He briefly glanced up at Edward when he came in but he did not pause at his work. His ink pen continued to scribble away and when that signature was done, he added that page to a pile of paperwork and grabbed a new letter, scribbling on that one as well with fluid ease.

His desk was always quite tidy, but today it was piled in paperwork, inkpots and ashtrays.

Edward always felt menaced when he came here to report in, or be called in for a meeting. He hated the hierarchy, hated the strict procedures, and hated being undermined. As of now, he wanted to get this over with so he could get back to his desk and go outside to perform his duties as a State Alchemist.

"You're late." Was Roy's obvious observation without giving Edward another glance. Writing on paper was obviously far more important.

"Forgot to set my alarm." He said pensively. The discomfort in his chest made him want this little formality over with. Quickly. "What? It happens, all right? Now I gotta go. Work and all that." He turned for the door, eager for freedom, when Roy opened his mouth.

"You look feverish, Fullmetal."

Edward turned to see that Roy had evidently paused in his 'work' and was now giving him an analytical eye. "I just ran all the way here is all." He said, swallowing. "No biggie."

Roy paused, not convinced. But then his need to fulfil his duties returned. "Very well. I'll meet you at your desk in about ten minutes. There's still the diamond fiasco that needs cleaning up and that woman we caught to question. We have her locked up in D Block. I'm hoping after today we can let her go, but there's someone else involved in this scam and I want to know who."

"Can't I go out in the field? Like you said?" He hopefully asked. He wasn't in the mood for questioning dopey old people and he was sure Roy was doling out this mission for punishment for failing to see what the diamonds really were. After all, Roy had said they'd go out and chase up new clues. Besides which, interrogation wasn't really his thing anyway. He wasn't mean or ugly enough to inculcate their prisoners with fear.

"Not today." Roy muttered dismissively as if there could be no two ways about it.

"But... yesterday, you said..."

"I've changed my mind." His eyes flashed coldly at his insubordinate. "You do as I say, Fullmetal. Now go to your desk and I'll join you in a moment. Cool down. Get a glass of water." And he returned facetiously to his papers to end the conversation.

Edward opened his mouth, about to throw something back at him, then thought better of it. You couldn't argue Roy out of anything. And it was too early in the morning to get his superior super angry.

Edward gave a defeated sigh loud enough so that Roy would hear, and opened the door.

He was back in the corridor, walking drowsily to his office. True, he wasn't as hot and sweaty anymore, and a cool glass of water sounded good.

His office was even messier than Roy's. There was paper everywhere, crammed into every space: out of order and out of file. There was old, dirty coffee mugs balanced precariously on any available space, and old packets of food spilling out from an overflowing trash bin. It was a wonder he could find anything in this place.

Edward, forgetting about grabbing himself a drink, opened the blind to his window, letting in a stream of sickly light to descend upon his trash. Then he fell more than sat in his desk chair and took several deep breaths. The ache cuddled up in his chest, much to his relief, was receding. Not all the way though. His ribs were still bothered by it, but all in all he felt better, and his sweat was cooling and drying up. Still, he grabbed some tissues from the trash of other assorted rubbish and wiped at his face until all perspiration had gone.

"Roy is such a giant dick." He said to himself. What on earth would he gain from interrogating an old broad?

Maybe he doesn't know what else to do with me. He thought with callous irritation. He was realizing that Roy never allowed him to do anything alone – ever. At first Edward accepted the baby-reins as he had a lot to learn, a lot to see, a lot to remember. But soon he began to realize that the baby-reins weren't coming off, and that he'd been with a team, or an escort for as long as he could remember. Yet, as a child, Edward did a lot of missions on his own, albeit with his brother when he had been a suit of armour. And yes, he had run away from his on-duty protection most of the time.

"Maybe he still thinks of me as a child." Edward grumbled. The thought had reoccurred several times as the years went by and the thought grew louder and louder. He needed to prove to Roy that he could be a man, just like any of the others. It wasn't his fault that the other men in particular were so... tall.

He observed his desk with tired eyes. Edward had never got round to tidying it up. There was just too much to do, and not enough time. And paperwork wasn't exactly invigorating for him. Everyone else settled into it as if they were born with a pen at the end of their fingertips. But not for him. He was a man of action, a man of practicability. Roy saw that? Surely? Yet instead their leader chose to ignore it as if it were better to keep him in a steel cage. Regulations acted as tough as iron bars, as Edward was learning.

He sat in that room, staring at his litter for what felt like a long time when Roy came a'calling. He tapped at his open door, and faintly smiled when Edward's golden eyes swung his way.

"Ready, Fullmetal? Sorry to have kept you waiting."

Edward nodded. "Just point me in the right direction." He was most assuredly a dog in chains. He wasn't happy about it. But if he worked hard enough, surely Roy could not ignore him any longer?

He stood up, and his organic leg failed, slipping under him. He lost his balance completely and smashed the desk with his nose as he fell. Then he tumbled to the floor, dazed and lost.

Before he could fathom what had happened, and even before he got one muscle moving again to reassert himself, Roy had his hands under Ed's armpits and was gently sitting up back up. "Gods! Ed! Are you all right?"

Ed? Did that dickhead just call me Ed?

Edward looked on, still derailed. His legs lay before him like tangled things. His brain was trying its best to re-engage, even as Roy shouted at him from above. His words were muffled, and far-away, like a dream.

"Edward, look at me!"

He called me Ed.

Do I always need an escort?

Something registered, and Edward's eyes, blank and staring, and not very vibrant, turned and looked up into Mustang's.

It was odd. Roy looked scared as fuck. And downright distraught. To see him like this scared Edward, and he looked down at his slack body, expecting fountains of blood, or something sticking out of his leg. But there was nothing amiss. He had just fallen.

Roy gently and assertively took Edward's jaw in his hand and steered his face over to Roy's. "I said look at me." He ordered austerely. Edward did this time as his brain suddenly found its tracks and life returned to his eyes.

"I am... I am..."

"Good." Roy relaxed his hold and then let go of his jaw but he still held him up against him. "You scared the blue shit out of me. What happened? Why did you fall?"

"I guess I must've... slipped." It sounded pathetic. And as he looked on, he saw that several officers and lieutenants had come to his door, having heard the commotion.

Roy followed his gaze and turned, with surprise, at the onlookers. "Get back to work! All of you!" He snapped brusquely at them. "I want your full reports this afternoon! Before you go home!"

In a flash they went scurrying, muttering and grumbling.

Edward, even though he couldn't trust his body, went to stand. Shame and deep embarrassment flooded his system. His boss... his boss of all people was holding him! And those wankers at the door had seen it all!

"Easy, Fullmetal!"

"I'm fine! I'm fine!"

Instantly Roy let him go, perhaps to see if Edward could really manage on his own.

Edward grabbed the edge of his desk and hauled himself up. He put more weight on his automail leg: a leg he knew wouldn't let him down easy. As for his normal limb, the muscles shook, but he could place weight on it too.

Loose bangs came free from his braid and hung by his face.

With one gloved hand he rubbed at his nose. His hand came away bloody.

"You... okay?" The question was awkward. Roy looked embarrassed too, as if he had walked in on someone masturbating.

Edward nodded. "Yeah. Just slipped, like I said."

"Yes." Roy answered, unconvinced. "Just as well I'm not sending you out into the field today, with a bashed nose like that. Clean yourself up and we'll go down to D block." He turned and hurried out as if the room was filling with rats.

Edward coughed, grabbed a few more tissues and swatted his nose with them.

Stupid, stupid! He scolded himself. Falling like that! And in front of Mustang! Great job Ed! You dumb shit!

He tested his weight several times on his normal leg and there was no repeat of the incident.

To look weak in front of his superior was bad, very bad. It didn't matter if it was an accident or not. And Edward felt really stupid.

You know, Ed. Them baby-reins are gonna stay on ya pal.

He left his office and walked stiffly down the well-lit standardized corridors of almost Spartan neatness. Then he went down a flight of stairs to the ground floor and out the doors into the morning sunshine. It was unexpectedly chilly.

Roy was waiting at the bottom of the stone steps, wearing his black cloak. He only ever wore that cloak when he expected it to rain. Edward gave the sky a brief, disinterested look. The sky was a light, august blue and the clouds were few, but white. There was no foretelling of rain.

He walked carefully down the steps and joined Mustang at the bottom. "No one else?" He asked, mildly surprised. Often, when someone was due to be interrogated, there was a team of four or five.

"Just us." Mustang replied enigmatically. "Can you manage the distance?"

The question was patronizing. "Of course I bloody well can! Do I look crippled to you?"

Mustang looked him up and down with a small smile as if to say; 'yes.' Edward knew that a man with metal limbs wasn't exactly normal.

"This way then." And Roy started off without further ado.

Edward followed beside him, trying to keep in-step due to his much smaller stature. The streets weren't busy, and there were few automobiles around. The fresh air was cool on his face, even if it did make his nose sting a little.

"I'll question Mrs. Hunt." The Führer said after a time of comfortable silence. "I want you to sit and watch. That's all. And if you think she is lying, I trust you to get the information out of her."

"Me? Why me and not another one of your goons?"

"Führer?" Spoke a voice. They both looked up at a petty officer running their way with a fistful of paper files in his hand. Roy groaned aloud and pinched his eyes shut with one hand as if he already knew what it was about. Had Roy forgotten to file something away? What?

As Edward stood, staring, he heard someone call him over.

A bleak looking car, tatty and old, was parked up at the curb. The window to the passenger's side slid down.

Curious, Edward walked on over while Roy began to argue with the petty officer about something or other.

When he got close enough, he saw a familiar face poke out from the window. It was Louis Armstrong. Why he was in such an old piece-of-shit of a car, Edward truly had no idea.

"Edward!" Louis said. His voice was off-kilter, as if he either had a cold, or was drunk. In fact, his face was off-kilter. He wore dark sunglasses and his cheeks looked rubbery, and strangely out of shape.

"Major!" Edward said at once. "You..."

"Get in at once!" Armstrong said, keeping his voice low despite the adamant urgency in his words. "It's your brother! He was taken in ill a short while ago! We must take you to the hospital!"

Edward drew in a horrid gasp, and his heart accelerated dangerously. "My... my b-brother? Oh god! What happened!"

"No time to explain. We need to get you to him, immediately!"

Edward looked to Roy Mustang, who was still in the middle of an argument with the officer ten or so yards away. He was looking through the papers with mounting anger as if he had been presented with paperwork written in poop. The petty officer looked on, looking stupid and awkward.

Edward turned back to the beaten-up automobile. He would have to call Roy later, and apologize for ditching him. If his brother was in trouble, then he'd go, no questions asked.

"All right. Explain everything to me on the way." He opened the back passenger door and slipped in. He shut the door behind him, and the automobile cranked up the road, coughing out gas as it went.

"You take this junk back!" Roy crammed the bits of paper back into the officer's arms. "I do not want to hear any more of it, you hear?"

The officer nodded and went swiftly away.

"Politics, Fullmetal. Politics. The joys of working your way up the ranks." He turned, expecting to see Edward staring up at him judgementally again, or at least shrugging off the nonsense entirely, when he laid eyes on no Edward at all. "Fullmetal?" He gazed about the street and buildings, expecting to see the young, small Colonel chatting to a fellow alchemist, or taking in the sights, as he usually did when he got bored.

But he had just... gone.

"Fullmetal!" He shouted, angrily this time. "Fullmetal! Goddamn it!"

But he was nowhere to be seen.

It looked like he had abandoned his duty altogether. It was not quite unlike Edward. All the same, Roy knew it didn't feel right.

Angry, he marched over to D block on his own, thinking that Edward had got ahead of him, and would be there waiting for him. But he wasn't there either.

The first few drops had started to fall.

It had begun to rain.

xxxxxxxxxxx

Much later, it grew dark. The sun had softened into creams and reds as it melted over the horizon. Roy sat, dispirited at his desk. He was annoyed because if Edward kept up his behaviour, he would have to be disciplined, and run the risk of losing his rank. He had had to question Mrs. Hunt on his own, and he still hadn't squeezed the information out of her.

All because of that runt.

And he hadn't returned to his desk either.

The damn pipsqueak had absconded for the day, it seemed.

"Fuck this." He grabbed his cloak and was about to head out the door to go home when his desk phone started ringing. He suspected it to be Edward. Who else would ring at such a late hour when the office was closed? The brat was probably ready to apologize after perfecting his little 'speech.'

He jerked the phone to his ear and shouted into the mouthpiece; "Yes? Who the hell is it? Fullmetal, if it's you, help me God..."

"H-hello?" The voice he got in return was small. And shy even.

Roy halted his tirade at once and blinked several times, his hot anger withering spontaneously. He knew that voice. "Alphonse Elric? Is that... you?"

"Y-Yes it is. I was wondering, is Ed coming home soon? He's never usually this late and I... well... I made him dinner... but he's not here, so... I was wondering..."

Roy looked up at the clock across his desk on the wall. It had gone nine.

He could hear the soft drone of rain as it pattered above him on the roof as the heavens opened. It was almost completely dark outside now. All Roy could really see was the soft light of the streetlamps along the road through his window.

"He's not home?" Roy felt stupid for asking it.

"No."

"He's not at the office either, Alphonse. Is there somewhere else he would be, do you suppose?"

There was a pause on the other end of the line as Edward's brother considered this. Then he said, "No. He comes straight home after work, every day. He doesn't go or do anything else, sir. Honest."

Dib07:

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