"C'mon Al! You couldn't beat a snail with a broken leg!"
He's running down the track, Al not far behind. The two laugh, baskets of fruit in their hands. The track rises up a small hill before them, and he can see their house, painted white against the rolling green hills and pale blue sky.
In no time, they reach it. He slams himself into the door, having forgotten to slow down, and throws it open. His eyes are shut as he continues to laugh.
"Hello mom!" he calls, "Sorry we're late!"
Al's drawn up beside him now, and he hears a small noise of confusion. He opens his eyes.
And there it is. In the middle of the floor in a puddle of crimson blood.
"Ed…ward…" it croaks, it's hand shuddering away from its mangled corpse. It reaches for him as he stares, transfixed by those glowing violet eyes. He can see the bones, sticking out at impossible angles and draped with tissue and still pumping organs. And he knows.
He's failed.
He barely notices the steadily pooling blood coming from the space where his limbs used to be. He tears away his gaze, only for it to land on the pile of empty clothes where Al was.
He's failed. And it's all his fault.
"Brother!" the armour in the corner rises, running over to him. But then it pauses. "What happened to you? And me… What happened to me?"
He tries to explain. Tries to tell him that it's not his fault.
But of course it is.
He wants to do something – anything – to make things right. He wonders, what made him do this?
"Because you can."
He's still sitting down, but now tied to a chair. The man walks in front of him, cleaver in hand.
"Deep down, we all want to kill…" the steel digs into the flesh of his left shoulder, and he grits his teeth.
"That's not true…" he protests, but even to him it sounds feeble.
"When you know you can do something, it's hard not to try, isn't that what we agreed?"
He spins round, the chair miraculously gone.
Shou Tucker picks his way between the corpses, stepping round the thing and stands next to Barry.
"Big Brother?" the chimera is before him, it's huge, pain-filled eyes staring up at him. "Why does it hurt?"
"No, you… Monster!" he yells at Tucker, tears trickling down his face, but the man's gone.
Tim Marcoh nods. "It is the devil's research. The key to creating a Philosopher's Stone-"
"Is human lives…" he finishes in a whisper. He shuts his eyes, trying to escape, but behind his lids he only sees tubes of glowing red liquid. Life.
His eyes snap open, and he registers an empty suit of armour lying on it's side.
"Al?"
No, no no no no no! Not him! Al's all he has left. But it must be too late.
He's alone.
"Brother?"
The hope blossoms in his heart. Al's here. Al's alive!
It shoots out of nowhere. The black nail, coming from the woman beside his brother.
It rests on the seal, the only thing, he knows, keeping his brother in this world.
The knee knocks the air out of him, pushing him over. Despite the pain in his chest he stands up to see another figure, with green hair sprouting from its head.
He knows it's talking to him, but he can't focus. All he can see it that seal. It fills his vision until his whole mind is filled with it, and his mind seems to shut down.
He has to save Al.
He knows what he must do. He crawls to the circle full of people and claps his hands.
He tries to place them down, but something stops him. A voice, echoing through his skull.
Don't! it screams, Don't kill them!
He can't do it.
But he must do it.
He can't think. He can't see.
Save Al! But he can't.
He steps forward, and his foot hits some liquid. He can't recall it spilling, but it must have done, for it was now on the floor.
Instantly his entire being is filled with energy. It drives everything out of his head, and he opens his mouth in one silent scream. He knows he must stop, and relax, but he can't.
He's scared. He can't stop.
He begins to panic. He can't get air into his lungs. He can't do anything.
Then warm arms envelope him, and he relaxes.
It's mom. He's safe.
He shuts his eyes and falls into blackness.
"Mom…" The word escapes his lips accidentally, the soft whisper laced with sleep. A warm hand strokes his bangs from his face. Unconsciously he nuzzles against the hand; his own mismatching ones reach out for the owner. When his hands clasp around nothing but air tears burn the corners of his closed eyes, his lower lip trembling. He feels the hand move and brush the tears away.
"It's time to wake up now, kid." A voice says gently from above him, hands shake his shoulders lightly. He opens his eyes slowly, allowing them to have time to adjust to the light.
"Al?" he asks, his voice hoarse from sleep. He uses his fists to rub his sleep filled eyes.
"He's gone to get you something to eat." The other person replies. He nods his head, and turns his gaze to look at the person who woke him.
"Roy?" He asks without thinking. He can't figure out why the older man woke him from his nightmare.
"Yeah?" Mustang replies, ignoring the use of his first name.
"Why you?" He asks his mouth moves faster than his brain.
They sit in silence for a few moments until; "Because you fell asleep in my office and your brother wasn't here, I suppose." Mustang replies.
"Oh." Is his smart response.
"Does that bother you?" Mustang questions, his dark eyes fixed on him.
"Not as much as I thought it would." He admits and risks a look at Mustang through his golden lashes.
He sees the man slowly rise from the edge of the couch where he had been sat. His head snaps up, his golden eyes widen. Without thinking his flesh hand shoots out to grab Mustang's arm, ensnaring the blue fabric of the man's uniform in his fingers.
"Fullmetal?" Mustang asks and turns slightly to look at him with one eyebrow raised.
He opens his mouth to speak but just recloses it after a minute with a snap. His golden gaze flicks to his hand, which is creasing the man's military jacket, before dropping to the floor, his fingers slipping from the fabric as his hand falls to his side. He feels a hand land on his head, messing up his already sleep tussled hair.
"Why do you always help me? I'm nothing but a pain in the ass, I ruin everything." He says, refusing to raise his eyes to look at the older man.
He feels the couch dip beside him and glances sideways to see Mustang now sat next to him.
"I want to say it's because it makes me look good, finding someone as talented as you are and having them under my command, even if they are a pain in the ass. But things have changed." Mustang says as he leans back slightly, his eyes are closed and his hands rest behind his head.
"Changed? How?" He asks, shifting slightly to stare at the black haired man. He's worried now. What if Mustang decides he's too much work?
Mustang opens one charcoal eye before slowly opening the other. "I got to know you." Mustang replies, his lips curl upwards into a smile.
He blinks at him slowly; his head tilts to the side. He can't comprehend how that changes things.
"There's something about you, kid, something that makes others want to help you. I still think you're a pain in the ass, don't get me wrong, it's just that whatever it is that makes others want to help you is strong enough to overcome that." Mustang explains. He watches as the other man shifts forward to rest his elbow on his knee and his chin on his hand.
"I'm not so helpless that I need help from an old man, I'm not a child." He says, attempting to inject anger into his voice.
"It's not a bad thing to accept help sometimes, kid, it doesn't make you weak." Mustang says.
"Have you ever had to ask for help?" He asks, his curiosity getting the better of him.
"Yeah, I have." Mustang replies.
"I guess you're pretty weak too then." He says, his cocky smile curls his lips but doesn't reach his eyes.
"Yeah, I guess I am," Mustang says back, his trademark smirk in place, "But it's not a bad thing, to be weak."
He takes notice of the fact that Mustang had suddenly gone along with his petulance.
"Whatever you say, Bastard." He replies. He leans back against the couch and places one leg over the other; his arms fold in front of his chest.
"It's good to see you're acting yourself now, Fullmetal, I was worried I'd have to put up with the curious little boy side of you forever." Mustang says.
The man's charcoal eyes lock with his golden ones.
"I'm not little!" he shouts, his mouth turning down into a scowl.
"I suppose you are getting a tiny bittaller." Mustang replies as his smirk grows.
He replies with a huff. "Even after I call you a bastard you're still nice to me…" He mutters, and fixes the older man with a shard golden gaze, "Why?"
"Like I've already said, Fullmetal, I got to know you. I've seen you slowly grow from the little kid who had lost so much into a bad mouthed, fiery tempered brat; I know you well enough now not to be insulted by what you say, especially by what you say in anger. I also know when you're hurting, kid." Mustang replies. The man lays a hand on his shoulder and gives it a small squeeze. "You aren't alone in this, Fullmetal; we're all right beside you." Mustang says.
His aureate eyes look into his superior's darker eyes before they dart over to gaze at the photo on the man's desk of his team. He lets a small smile grace his lips as he remembers what Havoc had told him they had nicknamed the team and what he had replied with.
"Team Bastard." He whispers as his ghost of a smile grows. Suddenly his smile disappears as tears fill his eyes.
"Fullmetal?" Mustang asks his hand still on his shoulder. He turns and practically throws himself into the older man's arms; he presses his head against the man's chest. Mustang wraps his arms around his smallest and youngest subordinate. He lets his sobs shake his body; his tears stain the front of the Colonel's uniform. Mustang pets his hair and whispers soothing words to him that he doesn't register.
"I failed… I keep failing… what if I fail again…" He cries into Mustang's clothes, the fabric muffles his words.
"You won't fail again, you're stronger now. We all have faith in you, especially Alphonse." Mustang replies softly. He pushes away from the older man slightly and looks up into dark eyes.
"But everything I try I fail at… It's all my fault that Al's stuck like that…" He says and his voice trembles with each word as his tears cascade down his cheeks.
Mustang uses his thumb to wipe away the tears. "You're wrong, you haven't failed everything; you managed to save your brother's life didn't you? And I'm sure you'll manage to get back what you lost one day, you're a strong kid after all, so please don't cry anymore."
He lunges forward and wraps his arms around the older man, his face pressed against the man's broad shoulder.
"I'll try not to." He whispers, his eyes betray his words and start to glisten with fresh tears.
"We're all beside you, kid; we won't let you fall." Mustang whispers back, his arms encircled around him. He let a small ghost of a smile grace his lips, tears silently slid down his cheeks. "So tell me when you're hurting so I can help you, because I don't want to see you break." Mustang says softly.
"Thank you… Dad." Ed whispers back, his tears now of happiness and a true smile on his lips.
Don't forget 3 . Oct . 10
Dream sequence by FlamelsCross98
Real life by The Blue Rose Alchemist