A/N: Because I know it'll confuse those of you who aren't used to era-crossing, this is an AU fic set in a time when the church's word is law, but the world is about the same age as in FMA – mid to early 19th century.
When Roy first met Edward Elric, he was regarded with the critical assessment he expected as a convicted criminal. Certainly, he did not make the best impression, keeping his face straight was a challenge he had not prepared for as his guard explained that his sentence would be served under the supervision of the diminutive youth before him. "After your time has been served the court will decide if you should be released or not."
As much had been explained to him when the sentence of working in the church instead of throwing him behind bars had been decided, and given the choice, Roy bit his tongue and reminded himself he was in no place to argue. But still – the youth who stood with a too-serious expression in a thick red robe, hands folded before him, was just that, a youth. A stunted height put his head on level with Roy's chest, his peculiarly coloured, downcast eyes held none of the tired wisdom of elder maturity, and while a trim jaw line refuted the roundness of childhood, he still couldn't possibly have reached his twenties yet.
Through with his analysis, Roy realised the guard was still talking. "...Perhaps he can instil in you some of his piety, and create some semblance of a decent citizen. Edward, I leave this sinner in your care."
"I understand. God bless you, sir." The official nodded and the boy bowed before the former left, heavy boots pounding across the hardwood floors of the church sanctuary. Roy watched him go, the stained-glass windows flickering over the church emblem on his back.
"I do not fucking believe this." Roy stated, unable to chain back his disbelief once the door was shut.
The cringe was visible. "Sir, I will thank you not to swear in this sacred place, and encourage you to keep a civil tongue outside of it, as well. I understand you are to work here, as penance for crimes undisclosed. Cleaning and maintenance will fall under-"
"You can't be more than eighteen, you can't be."
"Seventeen, actually. As I was saying-"
"Sevent-! my god, are you serious? This is just insult to inj-"
"HEY!"
Roy stopped his rambling, surprised at the stern tenor which rang a bit too loud from such a small speaker.
"I will thank you to watch your language in this house, sir." The clerical youth requested, and waited a moment as if to be sure he wasn't going to protest again. "As I was saying, your work will be cleaning and maintenance, and we will begin immediately. Today's task is cleaning the chapel floors; please come with me."
"S-sure."
"Sir – ah, what is your name, again?"
"Roy" he let his shoulders and back relax as he followed the kid down the hall – for someone so young, he walked with a sense of authority and purpose he couldn't even visualize on half the slouching teens in the street. Maybe he was training to be a priest or something, reforming a sinner like himself was supposed to be practice? Either way, it was decided, and he wasn't about to risk the church-ruled courts changing their minds back to prison.
"Roy, then. I realise you object to answering to a younger person, but as you are under my supervision for the time being, I would like to say I find it admirable that you have agreed to take steps to bettering yourself."
"As opposed to prison? I'll take the compliment, but I didn't have much of a choice." He pointed out, frowning.
"I... see."
"You didn't know they wanted to lock me up?"
"I was told only that the judge at your trial deemed this a better penance for whatever your sin was than the conventional alternative. And personally I think most of the lost souls in this city would be better off serving in parishes than rotting in cells."
"It's less boring, I imagine."
"Well, yes, that as well."
Roy looked sideways – and downward at the cleric as they walked. That they'd put him under the supervision of a male person led him to doubt the seriousness of this situation, that the man was younger and probably much weaker than him only added fuel to his suspicion that this was a test rather than a sentence. Still, if he had to do time cleaning a church, he wasn't going to complain about doing it in the company of an attractive, soft-spoken blond.
Mentally, he smacked himself, hard. Seventeen may have been above the legal age of consent, but that didn't make it any less foreign to be thinking like that about someone who, comparative to himself, was still a child.
"You really don't know what they took me in for?"
"I haven't the faintest. You seem like a decent sort, a bit foulmouthed, but most are, these days. I don't take you for a robber or any kind of violent criminal."
"Uh-huh." Roy faced forward again, a smirk tugging at his lips. "Well, let's just leave it like that."
"Very well." Edward stopped them at a wooden door with a heavy iron handle; it looked like the rest of the doors and the rest of the hallway he'd been leading him down; dark and old and well-worn, but not with the care and smiles which wear down door-handles and floors in old houses. He opened the door and took out a bucket with rags in it, and filled it with water from a gigantic cask before handing it to Roy and slinging a sack labelled 'sand' in black ink over his shoulder. He was stronger than he looked, apparently. "Confession is better left for the confessional anyway."
"You hear confessions?" Roy asked incredulously, trying to picture Edward sitting behind a screen, staring dead ahead and nodding and referring to someone as 'my son' and having an exceptionally hard time of it.
"Of course not, I'm not a priest!" Either the kid was shocked or outraged by the question, either way it put a rise in his voice that sounded so natural it made his calmer tones seem strange on him.
"In training, then?"
"Sort of." Edward kept his stare and his shoulders straight as he led the rest of the way along the corridor to the chapel. "I belong to the priests; I've lived here since I was small. When I was twelve they offered me the choice of leaving and living in the orphanage instead, and I chose to stay." He pushed open the thick wood door at the end of the hall with one hand, and Roy found himself standing in a smaller, more basic version of the sanctuary he'd entered before. There was a separate entrance, and less windows. "This life serves me well, and everything I do is devoted completely to the church, and of course to God."
"Completely, huh."
"You got it."
Edward's speech only seemed to get more confusing the more Roy heard it. As he started moving furniture off a section of the room, he shook his head. When he spoke casually, it seemed habitual for him to check himself, and reverted to the quieter, subdued tones that better matched the heavy red robe he wore, as if he thought he'd done something wrong.
"Including playing warden?"
The water sloshed across the floor, and turned the sand Edward had spread on the cleared area to a darker shade.
"They seem to think I'll be a good example for you. Religiously, I mean. You obviously don't think very highly of the church's laws." Edward tossed Roy a rag and commenced to scrubbing.
"None taken, it's true enough." A sense of resignation fell over him as he worked, and he had to remind himself again that it could be much, much worse. Out of the corner of his eye, Edward was scrubbing away, as well. He was mildly surprised; as supervisor in this situation, he could easily have taken the excuse to sit and watch. His movements were wide, all of his arms and shoulders and back went into each shove, brows drawn down tight as if getting this floor clean was the most important thing in the world. Did he throw himself this fully into everything? What was such a passionate person doing in a church, of all places?
Better than shuffling about causing trouble in back alleys, he guessed as he turned his attention back to polish-scrubbing the floor. It wasn't that surprising to hear that Edward belonged to this place the way other unfortunate children belonged to orphanages or foster homes – after all, the church controlled those places, too. Amestris had existed in a church-ruled state for quite some time, the judge who had convicted him had probably been preaching a sermon the day before, religion and law were one and the same, and the morals of one were enforced through the other. Still, he couldn't help thinking as he felt an ache beginning in his back, that the entire idea of 'church' fit this kid like a fur coat fit summer. There was nothing to support that impression, of course, he'd only met the kid that day, but something, a vibe, whatever you wanted to call it, whispered of something not quite as it ought to be.
It took them two hours to clean the floor, and another hour for the raised, stage-like area which was preached from, and then still more to sweep the dried sand out of the door and into the garden behind. Conversation was limited to directions, 'you-missed-a-spot', and other impersonal remarks. As he watched the boards he'd gone over already begin to gleam warmly as they dried, he tried to shake the feeling that this place was going to get very familiar over the next while.
When they finished, Roy's hands were red and raw and his back was sore, dragging fingers through his damp hair only made him feel grimy. He was starting to reconsider that opinion about this being the better alternative. Edward closed the closet door on the bucket and rags, and smiled
"Well, it's nearly sundown, let's call it a day. Unless you want to come to the evening prayers with me?"
"Thank you – no." Roy replied, cringing just a bit. "I'll just come back in the morning I guess. See you later."
"God bless."
Glancing over his shoulder, Roy watched the retreating form hurry down the hallway; either he wasn't even winded by that amount of work, or it just didn't bother him, or he really was in far better shape than the loose robes implied. As he left the church and stepped back out into the streets, Roy stuck his hands in his pockets and looked around before starting off. He couldn't skip out in the morning; there'd be someone there to make sure he did his time, just like there were probably eyes on him now, making sure he went straight home.
A/N: And that's it for chapter one! More of a 'Read the Rules' chapter. We'll get to 'Set up the Pieces', 'Play the Game', 'Knock the Board Over', 'Scatter the Pieces', have a 'Fist Fight,' 'Clean Up', 'Shake Hands', and 'Forgive and Forget' after this.
(Really, that's much more fun than saying 'Exposition', 'Rising Action', 'Climax', 'Falling Action', 'Level-Off', isn't it?)
I really didn't want to use the word 'piety' up at the beginning there, it's such an aweful word, but I couldn't find a decent alternative, so there it sits.
So that's chapter one! Review button is your friend~
