Wrote this while I was camping, in the middle of one of the longest Writer's Blocks in history. Reviews will help me make it better. Please?
I.
Coded letters fall past frozen lips. He will speak of nothing from his time away. He will not speak at all. The dark haired one wishes he would. The sandy haired boy wishes he would, but knows to be patient; cares for him anyway. Loves him anyway. It's hard for his friends to see his vacant eyes. Gone is the braid, replaced by thinning hair caught up in a wispy ponytail. The dark haired one thinks it makes him look older than his twenty-one years, which he is. His temples are graying, his automail ports aching. He would be younger if he could find his way out of the depression.
II.
The dark haired one is baffled and amazed when Edward is first seen smiling. He is still in a wheelchair, hampered by memories of horrors; nightmares come true no more. The dark haired on stares, and Edward looks him straight in his eye and says, "Enjoying the view, Bastard Colonel?" All he can thing to say in response is, "I'm a Brigadier-General now." But the clear thoughts in Edward's eyes are short lived, and his gaze becomes unfocused again.
III.
That week he gets out of the wheelchair.
"The trauma was great: I'm surprised he's up already," says the doctor. The white haired, white coated man goes on to spout some nonsense about speech and psychology that neither the dark haired on nor the sandy haired boy care for. They're too busy watching Edward as he walks to the window, the door, the cabinets, as if he could walk all along. His loving mechanic comes to central just for him, even stays a few months to build him a new set of ports and limbs, as he has outgrown his old ones. The doctor thinks they should way, but Edward insists. He wants it done now.
IV.
After the surgery, his eyes become clear. He talks, sometimes, but mostly leaves his thoughts to his face, which could never stand to be still for long. His expressions are more open and telling than ever before. He smiles at his brother's jokes, frowns when he has to go to the doctor. On Monday he goes back to work. The set him up with a desk in the dark haired one's inner office, give him a set of arrays, and leave him to his work. He is surprised to find that the dark haired one actually does his paperwork without a gun held to his head. He finishes the arrays before lunch, wonders what to do next, glances around the office. Finds himself staring at the dark haired one. Edward blushes bright red when his notices him staring back.
V.
His progress is good. He is fully recovered from his automail surgery, will speak to no one of his time away, though he does speak like he used to. He goes out drinking with the office on Fridays, avoids the man with glasses when he suggests he gets a wife, neglects to tell anyone that he's not heterosexual. He lets the sandy haired boy take him to the doctor, who prods and pokes at him, actions he will always make a great fuss about. An hour into the visit, the doctor asks the sandy haired boy to leave. He sits in a chair, pulls out a clipboard, and says, "Are you ready to talk about where you were?"
Edward stays silent.
"Then I'm curious: Why have you recovered so fast?"
At this he smiles – grins – and says, "He's not going to wait for me forever."
He refuses to answer any other questions, so they let him go home.
VI.
Months pass, he is released from the military contract, has a mysterious talk with the Fuhrer – a sensible man with an ernest heart who is willing to make acceptions and bend rules when he knows it will not hurt, who no one had heard of before he became Fuhrer – and is signed back in. He marches into the office one day, strangely quiet, and seals the door bend him – slam clap sizzle – and they don't come out for fifteen minutes. They call the sandy haired boy, who says knows nothing, the Generals shoot rumors like monkeys throwing dung, and the sandy haired boy and the Fuhrer share a look and smile. When they come out, the dark haired man is silent and stoic as ever, while Edward grins a grin that reaches his eyes. The Fuhrer himself signs their leave requests. The man with glasses brings the news not much later: They have been approved to have a personal relationship, so long as it does not come with them into HQ, and their promotions will be announced when they come back.
A.N. I know the endings off, and I might write another bit for it. Thoughts and flames are both welcome, though thoughtless flames will be used to keep warm during the winter. Anyways, thanks a bunch for reading!
~~~ The Author