It was cold.
Colder than usual, Ed speculated, watching his breath puff out in clouds before him.
It was also strangely quiet. Well, for East City at least. The only sound to be heard was the crunching of ice from under Ed's boots as he trudged through the piles and piles of snow strewn across the sidewalk.
He shivered involuntarily as a chill ran up his spine. Looking up, he noticed the sky darkening, and he tried to quicken his pace. The sudden movement did quite the opposite, however, and he found himself leaning heavily on a wall as waves of nauseating pain washed over him. He gritted his teeth as he took another hesitant step forward, determined to make it somewhere - no, anywhere that would shelter him from the oncoming blizzard.
Ed swore as he saw the first spots of red in the snow. Clutching his side, he ignored the stabbing pain in his chest and continued onward. If only Brigadier General Gran hadn't beaten him senseless, he would still have had a place to stay for the night. Seething with anger, he recounted what had happened just barely half an hour prior.
"Are you kidding me?" Ed paused in his search to run a hand through his hair, "I know I put it somewhere around here!"
Al poked up from behind a mountain of books and sighed. "Well, it's obviously not anywhere here." Al looked around at the chaos they had created, eyeing the old, worn books splayed around all over the already too-cramped dorm. "We should just give up already, Brother. There's no way we'll find it in this mess. And plus, we have plenty of other books. Is that one really that important?"
Ed dug through more books, skimming over the titles engraved on each spine. He let out a frustrated sigh and met Al's glowing red gaze.
"Yes, it is." Ed insisted. He scanned the room with narrowed eyes before something struck his mind.
"Dammit! I think I left it at the library this morning!" He groaned, mentally face-palming himself for forgetting. "I'm gonna go get it. I'll be back in ten minutes." Ed called over his shoulder as he rushed past the piles of books covering the floor, slipping into his bright red coat and wrestling on his shoes. Al barely had time to reply before Ed was out the door, slamming it shut behind him with a loud bang.
Ed marched down the hallway, rushing past rows and rows of doors, each one leading to a different dorm room. Ed cursed at how big the place was and sped up his pace. He had said ten minutes, right?
Better make that twenty, he thought to himself miserably, sighing with relief once he finally caught sight of the large double doors that marked the entrance and exit of the dorms.
He shoved them open, making a sharp turn to the right as he heard the door snap shut behind him. Since the dorms were connected to Eastern Command, Ed decided to take the shortest way possible out of the building, pushing past any soldier or officer who happened to be in his way.
At this point, he was practically running. Mapping out the twists and turns he would have to make, he began racking his memory for where he could have left the book in the library. He muttered to himself angrily as he listed off everywhere he had been that morning.
He was so focused, though, that he didn't notice the looming, burly presence in front of him that was Brigadier General Gran. Ed would have crashed into him if the man hadn't caught him by the shoulders just before the collision.
Ed glanced up and muttered a slightly annoyed, "Sorry," before stepping to the side and continuing on his way again.
"Hey."
Ed paused and threw a glance over his shoulder. "What do you want?"
The General chuckled for a moment, beaming down on Ed. "That's no way to treat a higher-up, is it? You don't have to be so cold. After all," He spread his arms out and smiled, "We're all friends here."
Ed eyed the General skeptically before turning to face him fully.
"I've actually been meaning to speak with you for a while now." The General added coolly, ignoring Ed's gaze.
"Sure, whatever." Ed replied lamely and threw a sloppy salute to the General, once again preparing to be on his way. "I have to go, so if we could talk later that'd be-"
"Come now, you can't spare even a minute?"
Ed sighed and glanced back over his shoulder. The exit was in sight, just 25 yards away. Ed turned back to the General. Better to just get this over with now, he thought.
"I'm listening."
"Ah, good." Gran said, beckoning Ed to him as he began leading the young alchemist to the exit. "If you have somewhere to be, I can walk with you. It's still dangerous with Scar around and all."
Ed kept his distance as he walked with the man, still wary of his intentions.
"So I've heard that you aren't happy with your commanding officer." Gran began, folding his hands behind his back and staring at the double doors they were slowly approaching. "Correct me if I'm wrong, but I believe his name is Roy Mustang?"
"You're right." Ed mentally groaned and reminded himself to never speak to any higher-ups other than Mustang ever again. Gran was a prime example of many other Colonels and Generals who had tried to get him under their command.
Abrasive and annoying as he was, Ed was still a prodigy. There were many in the military who were jealous of Mustang's lucky find, some going to extreme measures just to get to get even the slightest chance of recruiting him.
But Ed had already decided that he wouldn't move under another officer's command.
Though Mustang was a pain in the ass and just a plain egotistical maniac, he was straightforward when it came to all things military.
When he had first found Ed sitting miserably in a wheelchair, wallowing in self-pity, he had grabbed him by his shirt and told him to snap out of it, stand up, and do something.
When he had offered Ed a chance to become a dog of the military, there had been no sugarcoating or bluffing about what was expected of him.
When Ed had been sitting in the rain, racking his brain to think of some way, any way to bring little Nina back to life, Mustang had been there to tell him to deal with it, and that death was the high cost of living.
And it was true. Ed knew what he could expect from Mustang, and Mustang knew what he could expect from Ed. It was a blunt, sometimes painful honesty they had between themselves, but Ed didn't mind. He would rather take the truth over some made-up bullshit to make him feel better any day.
"Either way," Gran's voice broke through his thoughts, "I have a proposition for you."
"Oh," Ed feigned surprise as the two pushed open the doors and walked outside, greeted with a blast of the icy winter wind, "and what would that be?"
"I would like you to transfer to under my command." The General seemed unaffected by the freezing temperature, leaving Ed to wonder how the hell he got by in the coldest of seasons wearing only a military uniform. "I could give you better research funds, most likely get you a promotion, and increase your income wages."
Ed let the General go on and on about the different things he could earn, how much money he could make, and how he wouldn't have to move around as much. He pretended to be interested when the General added that he could most likely get specially-assigned bodyguards for the young alchemist and subordinates to do his dirty work for him. By the time that Gran had finished his long list of pros(and zero cons), they had already made it a good ways into the streets of East City.
"Well, Fullmetal Alchemist? Do we have a deal?" Gran stuck his hand out, gesturing for Ed to shake it.
"No." Ed said flatly. He spun on his heel and shoved his hands in his pockets, heading back in the direction of Eastern Command. "I've got stuff to do, so if you'll excuse-" Ed was suddenly interrupted as Gran grabbed his coat by the hood, dragging him backwards. He leaned down to Ed's level and stared him straight in the eye, his face barely three inches away from Ed's.
"Don't you want to take a little more time to think about that offer?" Ed wrinkled his nose at the smell of booze that wafted away from Gran as he spoke. So the bastard had been drinking, had he?
But he could tell that it really wasn't a question. He ripped himself out of the General's grasp and replied, "I'm good. Having an egotistical commanding officer is better than having an alcoholic one."
At Ed's remark, Gran yanked Ed up by his throat and slammed him against the wall.
"You're just a little fucking brat. You wouldn't understand." The General growled as Ed tried to pry away his fingers from his throat.
"Oh yeah?" He choked out through clenched teeth, "Try me." Kicking Gran in the ribs with his automail leg, he rolled to the side as the man's grip relaxed. Swinging his leg up once more, he slammed his heel down into the General's skull and smirked in triumph when he heard Gran hit the ground with a muffled thud. Rubbing his sore neck, he opted to leave before the General had time to recover and make for another attack.
"Seriously," He muttered to himself, "These military people are total freaks."
But as he turned to leave, a hand grabbed his ankle and pulled him down onto the sidewalk. Using his momentum, Gran heaved himself up and planted one foot down on Ed's automail arm and another on his chest. Ed could feel his breath knocked out of him as he hit the ground, his fall only slightly padded by the layer of snow on the sidewalk.
"You think that you can just waltz into the military and get away with anything, you little runt!"
Gran lifted his foot off of Ed's chest and struck down again with such a force that Ed swore he heard some of his ribs crack. Gasping for air, he tried to push Gran's foot off of his chest with his left arm, only to let it fall limp as Gran kicked him again and again and again.
"Do you know what the other state alchemists have to do to keep up with your fucking standards?!"
Another kick.
"What I had to do!?"
Another kick.
"And that damn Mustang keeps rising up the ranks just because of you!"
Another kick.
At this point, Ed had tuned out Gran's enraged roaring and was only trying to ignore the continuous stabbing pain in his chest. His pulse thrummed in his ears and he could taste the metallic tang of blood on his tongue.
He glared up at Gran once the kicking stopped.
"What?" He rasped, "Jealous that a kid could beat you at your own game?"
Gran snarled at his remark, turning away from the young alchemist.
"If you won't transfer to under me, then stay the hell out of my way." He growled. "The military doesn't have room for spoiled brats like you."
"I should be telling you the same thing." Ed retorted weakly, wincing as he received another kick from Gran.
"I'm warning you."
With that, the General strode off the scene as if nothing had ever happened.
And that was how Ed had ended up in the middle of East City with nowhere to go, at the mercy of an oncoming blizzard and a very possible case of hypothermia. Attempting to take his mind off of his impending doom, he plotted all the different ways he could seek revenge against the General.
Maybe I could steal Mustang's gloves and light Gran's clothes on fire while he's still wearing them. But the thought of fire only made him feel colder. The wind began picking up speed, and Ed bent his head down to protect his eyes from the icy blasts of air. Ed gritted his teeth as he felt the first few snowflakes whip past him, stinging his cheeks and making his entire body feel numb.
I should have spit on that asshole's shoes, he thought, distracting himself with more revenge plots. They looked expensive.
And Ed kept marching on through the wind and snow even as the storm picked up. He kept going until his foot was numb and he couldn't feel his flesh hand anymore. He paused in his determined tread when he heard dull roaring coming from somewhere down the road. Looking up, he squinted and scanned the road for any signs of activity.
His eyes widened when he caught sight of a familiar black car driving towards him at a quick pace.
Is that…?
Ed's suspicions were confirmed when the car slowed to a stop next to where he stood on the sidewalk. After a moment, the window rolled down and a particularly revolting face came into view.
"Fullmetal?" The voice called out. "What the hell are you doing standing out here?"
Ed was too shocked, confused, and just plain frozen to respond.
The voice let out an exasperated sigh.
"Well? Are you trying to get hypothermia? Get in!" Ed glanced down the sidewalk. Of course, Al had not magically appeared to save him from his impending doom. He groaned and hurried over to the car, prying open the door and climbing inside. He slammed the door closed, sighing in relief once the cold air was completely shut out.
Once he had made himself comfortable - well, as comfortable as you can make yourself after having the crap beat out of you - he turned to face the driver.
Roy Mustang said nothing, both hands on the wheel as he steered down the street at an alarmingly fast rate.
"So," The Colonel began after a moment, "What the hell happened to you?"
Ed glanced down at his coat and shirt, just noticing that they were stained in blood. He tried his best to cover it instinctively, leaning his elbow on the edge of the door and resting his chin in his palm. He glared out the window, eyeing the snow as it whipped past the car.
"I got in a fight." He muttered.
Roy let out a sigh and asked, "With who?"
"None of your damn business."
"Actually, contrary to popular belief, it is 'my damn business'." He retorted. "Now tell me."
"I said it's none of your damn business! And why the hell should you care?"
"Fullmetal, I am your superior and I will court martial you if you don't tell me who you got in a fight with!" When Ed did little more than continue to glare out the window, he quietly added, "Was it Al?"
Ed snapped around at the suggestion.
"No!"
"Then who?"
Ed sighed, turning his gaze back out the window. Resting his chin in his palm again, he finally gave in.
"Basque Gran." He grumbled. "He tried to get me to transfer to under his command. He wouldn't take no for an answer." He scowled after noticing Mustang trembling with something that looked like silent laughter. "Sure, go ahead and laugh your ass off like you usually do, you bastard." He muttered.
When no laughter or response came, Ed glanced over at Mustang, realizing that the man was trembling with not laughter, but anger.
Ed decided to stay quiet for the rest of the car ride, choosing a silent and angry Mustang was better than a loud and angry one.
After what seemed like an excruciatingly long time, the car halted to a stop. Roy unbuckled his seatbelt and swung out of the car, trying to raise his voice over the sound of the howling wind.
"Come on." He called, slamming the door shut abruptly and leaving a very confused Ed to climb out of the car after him. Ed winced as the cold air hit him, pulling his coat tighter around himself as he closed the door and scuttled after Roy.
Roy did not wait for Ed as he fished a key out of his pocket and hopped up the stone steps to a small flat with a dark burgundy door for an entrance. He quickly unlocked the door and shoved it open, hurrying inside. He bit his lip against the cold as he held the door slightly ajar for Ed to come in.
Both alchemists let out a sigh of relief as Ed rushed inside, slamming the door shut and leaning back on it. Ed took a moment to relish the warmth that flooded over him, sighing in relief. He glanced at Roy, who had begun taking off his military jacket and boots, hanging the former on the coat rack positioned near the entrance.
"So," Ed breathed, once again reminded of his injuries as he tried to catch his breath from running up the steps just moments before. "Where are we, exactly?"
"Where do you think, genius? It's my apartment." Leading Ed into a small-ish living room, Roy gestured to the couch. "Sit down. I'll be right back."
Reluctantly, Ed eased himself onto the couch, eyeing the room. It wasn't anything special. It was simply decorated, a desk stacked with different papers and framed pictures in one corner, the couch pulled into the center of the room. In front of it stood a circular, wooden coffee table and two armchairs. An unlit fireplace and dull hanging lights left the room dimly lit and shadowed.
After Ed had finished his examination of the room, Roy appeared again through another door on the wall opposite of the couch, holding an assortment of bandages and different medical items.
Before Roy could even open his mouth to begin speaking, Ed interrupted him.
"No."
"No what?"
Ed nodded to the things in Roy's hands.
"No that."
Roy rolled his eyes, setting them on the couch and rolling his sleeves up.
"Just grin and bear it, kid."
Roy kneeled in front of Ed, snatching up a bottle of antiseptic and popping the cap off.
"Take off your shirt."
"Excuse me?"
"Would you stop complaining about every damn thing I do? I'm trying to help you, not murder you."
Muttering under his breath, Ed gingerly lifted his shirt up to reveal the bruises that Gran had so kindly left him. He decided to keep his shirt on to retain what little pride he had left, as it was already badly damaged due to his run-in with Gran, and then, later, Mustang.
Mustang whistled in surprise when he saw the bruises and blood.
"He really did a number on you, Fullmetal." Roy murmured as he applied the antiseptic none too gently.
"No shit, Sherlock." Ed muttered through clenched teeth, trying his best to not show any outward signs of pain.
By the time Roy had finished bandaging and cleaning his injuries, Ed was ready to punch someone. He leaned back into the couch, glaring at Roy as he walked into the other room to put the supplies away. Roy was oblivious to the glare as he returned into the living room and stood in the center of the room, putting his hands on his hips and sighing.
"So what now?" Ed asked gruffly, setting his feet on the circular coffee table in front of him. "Can I leave?"
"If you want to drown in the snowdrifts outside, then sure."
"Are you implying something?" Ed hissed at the implication that he might be less than the average vertical length.
"Not at all." Roy smirked and strode over to window, peeking out. The blizzard was still going strong, and was showing no signs of stopping. Roy turned back to face the back of the couch, quietly praying for something to break the awkward silence that had fallen over the two alchemists.
Some god must have heard his prayer, because after a moment, Ed asked, "Do you have a phone?"
"Yeah," Roy nodded to the telephone on his desk behind the couch. "It's right here."
Ed craned his head back, scanning the desk with narrowed eyes before spotting the phone. Heaving himself up off of the couch, he hurried to the desk and snatched up the phone, roughly punching in the number to his dorm room's number.
Ed returned Roy's questioning gaze with a cold glare, listening to the dial tone impatiently. Roy shrugged silently and turned away, heading towards the fireplace. Ed watched him curiously as he slipped on one of his ignition-cloth gloves and snapped, the wood lying in the stone fireplace immediately catching fire.
Just as the wood went up in flames, the dial tone broke and Al's voice came through the other end.
"Hello?"
"Hey, Al, it's me."
"Brother? Thank God, I thought you were still in the blizzard! You've been gone for so long; I was just about to go look for you…" Al faltered abruptly, leaving Ed to wonder if maybe the line had been cut.
"Al? You still there?"
"Yeah." The affirmative came through after a moment. "Wait, where are you?"
"Huh? Oh, Mustang's place. He found me walking and kidnapped me." Ed replied sardonically, grinning when Mustang turned away from the fire to glare at him furiously.
"I can still kick you out, you know." Roy muttered as he turned back to the flames.
"You wouldn't!" Ed exclaimed in mock shock and a high-pitched tone. He heard Al giggle on the other end of the line.
"Oh, that reminds me," Al began once he had stopped laughing. "Did you manage to find that book?"
Ed paused for a good five seconds, wondering whether or not to tell Al about the fight earlier. I'll tell him tomorrow, he mused, better not to make him worry.
"Um, yeah, about that… Long story. I'll tell you about it later."
Roy cast a skeptical glance over his shoulder. From what he was hearing on Ed's side of the conversation, it didn't seem like he was telling Al about the small… run in he had with Gran earlier. He listened as Ed and Al both said their goodbyes and Ed hung up the phone with a small click.
With a small sigh, Mustang slipped off his glove. It wasn't his business to know why Ed acted the way he did. Turning around, he found Ed staring out the window in awe, mouth hung slightly ajar in astonishment.
"Does it… Does it snow a lot here?" He asked, practically pressing his nose on the window as he gazed outside.
"Yeah, in the winter, it does." Roy answered, stuffing his glove back in his pocket. "Why are you asking? You guys aren't out of town that much, are you?"
"Yeah, we are. When we're not on an assignment from you, we're following some lead on the philosopher's stone. The only reason we stay here sometimes is because you're stationed here." Ed dropped lowered his gaze from the window and met Roy's. "So when do you think the storm is gonna stop? I don't want to be stuck in your ugly house for longer than I have to."
Roy shrugged. "Maybe at midnight, or later in the morning. You can never tell with storms like these. You'll probably have to stay overnight if you don't want to freeze to death."
Ed groaned, trudging over to the fireplace and sitting down in front of it, hugging his knees to his chest and glaring at the fire.
Roy decided against trying to interrupt Ed's staring contest with the fire, instead glancing at the clock on the far wall.
9:58 PM. He marveled at how quickly the time flew by, striding past the younger alchemist and into the kitchen. He watched the hands of the timepiece count off the seconds as he made a pot of coffee. The slow tick-tock of the clock and the low rumbling of the coffee machine was quite soothing to Roy, and he listened contentedly to the ambience. It wasn't every day that you could get peace and quiet when Edward Elric was in the vicinity.
He blinked. The silence, though nice, was certainly strange. Slowly, he leaned over the side of the countertop and scanned the room for said alchemist. Sure enough, he was still huddled up next to the fire. It almost looked like he was asleep, Roy mused, watching as Ed slumped over and pulled his knees closer to his chest, snoring softly.
Roy snorted, pouring himself a mug of the now steaming coffee and heading out of the kitchen and over to the built-in closet underneath his staircase. Swinging the door open, he pulled out a fluffy red blanket and slung it over his shoulder. He kicked the door shut with the back of his foot and strolled over to where Ed was hunched over. He paused, eyeing the boy for a moment before chucking the blanket at him.
Ed was abruptly pulled from his state of half-sleep when something soft and warm smothered him. He yelped in surprise, wrestling the blanket off of his head and looking around for the source of the attack. Mustang stood in the square center of his vision, smirking down at him with one eyebrow raised.
"Are you just going to sit there all night, Fullmetal?" Roy sipped his coffee, walking away as Ed fumbled with the blanket in his hands. Ed watched with no small amount of annoyance as Roy went back to the closet under the staircase and yanked out a pillow and chucked it at him.
Ed barely had time to catch it, grabbing it just before it sailed head-on into the fire.
"I'm sure you've been acquainted with the couch," Roy began, still sipping his coffee. "Pillows and blankets are also commonly used during the human phenomenon known as sleep. It is a necessary skill of survival, so I recommend you use it-"
"I'm not an idiot! You don't have to explain the goddamn-"
"-instead of researching the Philosopher's Stone all day and night." Roy finished, heading to the stairs and lifting up a hand in farewell. "Goodnight, Fullmetal."
Ed glanced down at the pillow and blanket he had been given for a moment, then looked up to meet Roy's gaze again. But all he saw was the worn, wooden staircase railing. Mustang was gone.
"Bastard." Ed muttered under his breath as he gathered up the blanket in his arms, dragging it over to the couch and settling himself down gingerly, careful of his wounds. He sunk into the couch with a sigh, almost grateful for what Mustang had said.
Well, not exactly grateful. Mustang was a disgusting, egotistical shitwad who thought of nothing but himself every waking moment. There wasn't much to be grateful for.
Except, when compared to someone like Gran, he was a pretty good commanding officer. Ed doubted that any other higher rank wouldn't have saved him from an icy grave on the streets of East City. He also doubted that they would have given him a place to stay for the night.
But then again, with all of Mustang's implications that Ed was less than the average vertical length added to the equation… Okay, still not as bad as Gran.
Maybe he's not all that horrible, Ed mused as his eyes drifted shut. Yeah, he thought, he's not that much of a bastard. Maybe just… 75% of a bastard. Ed stifled a yawn and nodded to himself slowly. Yeah, he agreed. That's a good number.