"Never in my exceedingly long, fucked up life," Edward stated dramatically, "have I seen five sadder, more pitiful faces than there are right here."
Roy, too busy gaping at his team (who was gaping right back at him), took a moment to turn and scrutinize the angel sitting on the edge of the desk, looking for all the world affronted that he was going to have to deal with more than just one crying human face. "Can they see you too or am I going to be talking to myself most of the time I'm here?"
"Tragically," Ed grumbled, "they can see me too. Roy Mustang, you had better not fucking mess this up now or it's not just going to be one person you'll go into service for. One person's bad enough to try to heroically rescue."
"Who did you go into service for?"
"None of your damned business."
Ah, and there it was again. That look of wistfulness and utter anguish. He wondered if perhaps Ed had suffered the same fate as him . . . only he hadn't been able to pass all three stages. Something had happened to Ed to make him the seemingly heartless angel he was today. Roy didn't think he was heartless. He thought he was beautiful, and broken.
He wanted to put back together those pieces.
"They can't, however, touch you," Ed added mildly as Havoc, bawling his eyes out now, came over to try to wrap his former boss up in a big hug. His arm went straight through Roy, much to their surprise; there was a rather comical moment as Havoc struggled to stay upright and practically fell straight through Roy.
"What's going on?" Riza demanded, no sign of any sort of upset on her face anymore. Typical Riza, he thought fondly as he turned to look at her. She had always been stronger than the rest of them. "Roy, you died. We found your body downstairs a month ago."
"Are you . . . a-are you a ghost?" Kain stuttered out, his glasses dirtied with his tears.
"In a manner of speaking," he managed, glancing again at the angel sitting across from him for a better explanation.
Edward, to no surprise, made the most affronted face at having to explain himself again before he turned to the ragtag group of sobbing police officers (sans Riza). "He's still a dead fucker, but you may be able to save his sorry ass before he winds up like me. I mean, if you wanna help him at all. He's kind of lousy and all that shit. Can't say he's worth it—"
"Hey!"
"But I guess he kinda deserves a second chance like everyone else who wound up in the wrong place at the wrong time."
He was going to find out, if it was the last thing he did. He was going to find out what had happened to Ed, and who he was trying to save. Ed had been particularly grumpy this morning as compared to last night, and at first he'd thought it had just been because the angel wasn't a morning person. But he didn't remember Ed ever sleeping, and even he didn't technically need to right now. He'd been slightly distant all day, in spite of the on point insults that he had come to learn very quickly was just something he did, no matter who it was he was talking to. It wasn't that he didn't like Roy.
It was that, he thought, he didn't know how to get close to people anymore.
Roy wasn't quite sure how he knew this, considering he'd only just met the beautiful creature standing before him with his amazingly human traits. He just had a feeling. That same feeling that drew him to Edward, to his dark personality and bright as a sun features.
"Tell us what's going on," Riza stated calmly, then jerked her thumb over to Ed. Her other hand was carefully on her trigger. "And tell us who this one is. We couldn't see him a moment ago either."
Roy gradually sat back down against his desk. "When you found my . . . well, when you found me, what was the general assumption of what had happened?" he questioned.
"We thought you'd been killed, obviously," Breda stated, "only the examiners said there weren't any injuries whatsoever. So they said it was probably an accident. Or would've been, except we found what was left of Chief Bradley. So that's when we thought you must've just been so shocked you went into cardiac arrest or something."
"Except that isn't possible, as you've seen worse," Riza clarified, glancing suspiciously at Edward the whole time she talked. "I still stand by the fact that you were murdered. We just don't understand how."
"What if I told you," Roy stated slowly, "that Chief Bradley was trying to summon a demon using my soul as the sacrifice?"
The five of them blinked at him, very seriously.
Then Havoc chuckled.
"C'mon, Boss, you can't possibly expect us to believe you."
"You can't believe that, but you can believe I'm standing before you as a ghost a month after I was found dead?"
"He's got a point," Falman muttered.
"I still don't fully understand it myself. Edward here," he gestured at the angel, "is the one who appeared to me yesterday and explained the details of what had happened. The summoning didn't work quite right and Bradley was killed as well. I was just . . . well, in the wrong place at the wrong time. Or perhaps he hated my guts, because we all know he did."
"Three fourths of the division hate your guts because you're so young," Breda mumbled under his breath.
"This boy, then," Riza continued, not at all shaken; she just wanted all the facts. Roy noted that she had yet to remove her hand from her gun. "The one that told you everything. How can you be sure you believe him? And who exactly is he?"
The blonde gave a mocking little bow, his metal hand tucked against his chest. "Edward Elric, resident angel in service. I'm here to help your boyfriend here have the opportunity to take back his wrongfully ended life. That being said, we don't have all day to go about it."
"You said we had a month," Roy growled.
"You're the one who asked me out to dinner, bastard."
"That's not the—"
"How are you going to do it?"
Roy and Ed looked over at Riza at the same time. Roy cleared his throat and Ed's eyes narrowed into near-slits at her hand. "Even if you try to shoot me," he announced, "I'm just like Roy here. Your bullet will go straight through me. Woefully, I can't die. Sucks fucking balls, doesn't it?"
She narrowed her eyes right back in annoyance, but Roy was relieved to see that she did lift her finger from the trigger at her waist. "I promise we will explain it to you, Riza," he assured her. "Just hear us out. I wouldn't have believed it myself if I hadn't found myself in this situation. But here I am, and even if I got a right shitter for a helpful angel, he's at least trying to bring me back to your world. I trust him. I don't have much of a choice but to, but I do."
"Alright," she sighed eventually. Havoc casually slung an arm around her, and surprisingly, she didn't shrug it off. Something clearly had happened in the month he'd been gone.
"Roy's been tasked with three things he has to accomplish before he can come back to this frankly really boring and shitty looking job of his," Ed explained, picking up a stack of papers to read through as he spoke, like he'd said the words so many times he didn't even need to think about how to say them anymore. "His first task was to witness someone grieving for him without him interfering. Which, in this state, it's pretty much impossible to interfere anyway. What's astounding is it usually just works with one person. But no, he's gotta be fucking special needs and have a whole team want to cry over his dead body. You guys are too damn sentimental, seriously. So now who knows what the hell is gonna happen next. Side note, your serial killer is probably like two streets over, getting drunk in that shoddy bar."
"How did you—" Falman choked out.
"It says here last time you found a scrap of discarded jacket on the last victim. The pub down the street sells jackets those exact colors. Faded yellow and puce green, yeah?"
"We'll look into it," Fuery answered, eyes wide with something akin to admiration. Oh, lovely, his subordinate was falling in love with this asshole of an angel too. Perhaps it wasn't just Roy. Maybe he just secreted angelic pheromones or was secretly Cupid in disguise or something.
"Anyway," Ed continued, like he hadn't just solved a murder case that the station had been racking their brains over for months, "bam, first task complete. Congrats, only the two hardest ones to go. It's your job as the only living people who can see him to aid him with his second task. But it's my job to warn you that if he fucks up on either of these last two steps, you'll also have to suffer the consequences. If any of you don't want to become his sacrifices to save, you can back out now. You're all the loyal sort of fuckers, though, so I imagine none of you will. Typical."
"Damn straight, Chief!" Havoc crowed, leveling a bright grin at Ed. The angel raised an eyebrow at the name, but he likely didn't understand that even Havoc liked him in spite of his insults . . . maybe even because of his insults. Roy had a feeling it wouldn't take too long for him to even win over the likes of Riza.
And that was good. Ed needed people like his team, ones that would accept anyone, particularly ones that really looked like they could use it.
"What do we need to do?"
"You're the only ones who can see him. So he has to work through you to figure out two things in this life he regrets most. You find those two things, and you fix them to where if you don't make it through the third step, you're gonna be grateful you fixed them. That's the trick. These are things you want to fix if you knew you were going to die. So that when you leave you know you've left whatever the fuck it is in a better place. Those two regrets are his. You just need to help him fix them because he can't do it himself."
"What time is it?" Roy asked suddenly, craning his neck to look at the clock on the wall. He still remembered putting it there; he'd nearly fallen straight onto Jean while trying to balance on the little stepladder. It looked like the battery had died or someone had just stopped caring about it, though.
"We have ten minutes before he comes back," Breda snarled, looking at the door. "The worst part is, we can't do anything about him."
"That's because you didn't have me helping you along," Roy practically purred. "Regret number one is ever allowing Zolf Kimblee a spot in the police, much less the chance to control my men. I absolutely cannot leave this world without solving this issue first. My men deserve the best there is to offer."
"I doubt you'll have an easy time finding someone better than Kimblee or Bradley though," Kain sighed sadly as he tugged off his spectacles to give them a firm wipe with his shirt.
"I can think of one person," Roy answered confidently, then looked to Ed. "Is this acceptable as my first regret to fix?"
"Not mine to decide," the angel answered drily, "I don't know what the hell you regret and what you don't. Just so long as it means something to you."
"Good," he answered, turning back to his team. "Because this is something I should have done a long time ago. I don't know why I never did."
"You can't just get rid of Kimblee, though," Falman surmised. "You try telling him we don't want him anymore and he'll spit in our faces. Who knows, he might even try to use us to summon a demon too."
"Honestly?" Roy crossed his arms over his chest. "It's simpler than any of you might think. Riza, why don't you go rummage through Kimblee's desk? There should be a letter addressed to you . . ."
"I can't believe you actually used the word rummage. Seriously, who the hell uses that word in their sentences anymore? I'm fuck knows how old and even I don't—"
"Ed."
"What?"
"For once, shut up."
The door creaked open and Zolf Kimblee peeked around the edge of it, a self-satisfied smirk already plastered to his face as he expected to catch the team doing something he didn't want them to be doing.
Unfortunately for him, all five of his police officers were at their desks, furiously typing away at their computers. His grin slowly fell, dark eyes skimming between his team for something to complain about. He paused, and the grin returned; he sauntered in, shoving his hands into his pants ever so casually. "Look at you all, working so hard . . . I might even think you were almost working too hard."
He stepped inside the room and slid between the cluttered desks, nearly stepping right inside of Roy's foot (the bastard). Kimblee leaned over and skimmed the report sitting next to Fuery's arm. "The serial killer case?" he mused, and then barked a short laugh. "We haven't had a lead on him for weeks . . . now why on earth would you be so intent on this case in particular? There's no reason, I'd imagine."
"Wow," Edward whispered near Roy's ear; the angel had moved over to stand next to him for a better view. "He really is a slimy ol' scumbag, isn't he?"
Both Riza and Jean had fantastic hearing; it was a great asset to the team in high-strung situations. However, in a case like this, it was . . . Riza, of course, barely batted an eye at the comment, but Jean couldn't hide the choked sound of amusement as he heard Ed's apparent observation.
Kimblee whirled around at the noise, his attention drawn to Havoc without even knowing why Jean had laughed in the first place. "Oh?" he said softly, almost slyly. "And what about our local jacket killer case amuses you so much, Jean?"
And, classic Havoc, he couldn't keep a straight face any longer. Honestly, Roy was amazed he'd made it that far without breaking down into sobbing laughter. "The fact that you think I laughed at a serial killer," Jean chortled, slamming his laptop closed.
"It's all set up," Falman announced, calmly shutting his laptop as well. "The bar knows to expect us and to distract the suspect until we arrive. They know not to act like there is anything wrong, but to distract him if need be."
Kimblee's gaze darted between Falman and Havoc, suddenly not sure at all who to go after. Havoc was certainly the better target, as Falman mostly stayed quiet and did as he was told in spite of whatever circumstances he found himself in. Havoc on the other hand . . . he couldn't take criticism well and was more prone to yell than to solve anything. Roy knew this. He knew his team. He knew how to control that.
And soon, it wouldn't be his team. Even if he did come back, this was how it was supposed to be. And he would prefer this any day than having this disgusting man controlling every aspect of the lives of his closest friends.
"The serial killer? You had a breakthrough?" Kimblee decidedly took a step towards Falman. "I suspect you have a recording of the call that tipped you off? Or a document with your lead?"
"Just word of mouth," Falman answered offhandedly, waving a hand at Kimblee.
Which, obviously, was a lack of respect towards the "ol' scumbag".
"Something is going on," Kimblee announced to all of them, "and I would very much like to know what it is that has you all pretending that you can go above and beyond my orders. I'll have you fired if you continue in this manner. Unless, of course, you'd like me to spill your little relationship secret to headquarters . . ."
Jean and Riza rose as one, Havoc's face twisted into an expression that said he'd been waiting a long damn time to be able to get back at Kimblee for keeping that over their heads. Roy, of course, had known about the two of them, but fraternization within the police department was forbidden and so he hadn't said anything to Bradley about it. How Kimblee had managed to figure it out, he'd never know. But the fact that he was holding that over their heads to make his team obey him . . . Roy wished he could strangle him and send him to hell along with Bradley.
But Riza's face was as impassive as ever. She calmly picked up the letter sitting on the side of her desk and unfolded it, holding out the document towards the man standing in front of them all. "Zolf Kimblee," she announced, and could Mustang detect a hint of smugness to her tone? "You have hereby been fired by the Central Police Headquarters on grounds of falsifying orders and lying to superiors about the status of this station. Please hand over your badge and your gun."
"You went through my office," Kimblee hissed, stepping towards her. Riza didn't so much as budge. "You think you can get away with that? You had no reasonable evidence—"
"Our reasonable evidence," she said slowly, "was in the form of a letter left by King Bradley sitting in former team leader Mustang's desk drawer. This letter expressed that, should anything happen to Chief Bradley, Mustang was to take over."
"Yes, and Mustang's dead, in case you haven't noticed," he answered smugly, relaxing a little bit.
"The letter then went on to state that in the case of Mustang's passing, the next in line would become the chief. This was expressed by Mustang himself. There was absolutely no mention of a third-party member of the force taking over in his stead." She looked over to Breda, who nodded and rose to his feet as well, holding up another piece of paper.
"This gave us incentive to search your office for any evidence that Roy Mustang's request had been overturned. Instead, we found this paper, detailing that you were simply to come and provide Riza Hawkeye with the promotion to police chief." Breda raised an eyebrow. "We then found an e-mail, sent by you to headquarters, that said you had offered the position to Lieutenant Hawkeye, but she refused it and instead offered you the position. This interaction did not occur; the position was never offered to her in the first place. You simply stated that you were Bradley's replacement."
"We contacted Headquarters immediately," Kain added helpfully, rolling around in his chair to stare at Kimblee. "They realized what had happened not too long after and they have since terminated you."
"Mr. Kimblee," Havoc stated gleefully, "you have an allotted twenty-four hours to clean out your desk, at which point we will offer you a very tearful farewell." He cackled and added, "that is, tears of joy."
Riza glanced over at Roy briefly and the smallest edge of a relieved smile broke at her face. To Roy, that meant this was more than worth it. If he returned, that spot would no longer be his. It was a position he had desired for a long time, longer than he perhaps even remembered. But for Riza to have it, to know that his team was in the best hands they could be in, made him feel like the sacrifice was worth it.
"This should count double," he griped out loud, not even caring if his team looked over at them with Kimblee in the room. The man was realizing he'd been found out, anyway, and he wouldn't have anywhere to run. "Considering I'm giving up my entire career just to get this bastard out of my team's hair."
"'Fraid it doesn't work that way, old man," Edward gleefully supplied, patting him sympathetically on the back. Roy thought even his pat was sarcastic. "If it makes you feel any better, this wouldn't have been strong enough to get you through it anyway. Definitely counts for the regrettable shit, though. I can see why you'd want to fix this right up. Guy's a right dickface."
Havoc burst out laughing again, and Roy glared at the angel pointedly. Not that it made a difference; Ed was grinning at him and Havoc both. He'd known that would get his former co-worker riled up.
"He's a trip," Jean snorted, and all the while Kimblee stared at him like he'd grown a second head, still not guessing that Havoc wasn't actually laughing at him. Well. He was. Just not in the way he thought he was.
Somehow, though, that was the last straw for the former "chief" of Central Police; with one last threatening glare that presumably meant this wouldn't be the last they saw of him, he took his leave.
"One task down," Roy sighed in relief, "one to go."
And he was so busy basking in the cheers of his friends that he didn't even notice the grin had slipped right off of Edward's face, giving way to the anguished expression underneath.
The restaurant Roy always liked to frequent was Xingan; excellent foreign cuisine. It was a bit up there on the price scale, but he'd always thought the food and the service more than made up for how much it cost. Tonight, however, he would not be dining there with the intention of paying. At least, not with material money. After all, even if he sat down at a table, he would never get served. He would never be noticed.
But he could touch material things, even if no one could see him doing it. He could still cook, and he could still eat. And it was the simple things like that which had kept him going for the past month before Edward had appeared before him. Before Edward had shown him a way out, whether he failed or not.
Edward, whom he had noticed over the past few hours had gone very quiet. Even though he'd only known the angel for a whopping sixteen hours, he'd already gathered he was brash, obnoxious, and liked to cover up any real problems he had with an attitude that made him seem larger than life.
But he was quiet now. He hadn't uttered a curse word in well over an hour which was alarming in and of itself.
And Roy couldn't help but to wonder if something today had reminded him of his own failures. He'd tried asking again, of course, but he'd been flat out ignored.
But Edward still had not decided against the date he'd been asked on, so Roy persistently decided to go forward with it. He led the angel to his favorite restaurant very late that night, standing in front of its darkened building with an obnoxiously eager smile on his face. "This is it," he announced, looking over at Ed for approval.
And Ed blessedly raised an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed just like Roy had secretly hoped he would. "It's not very festive," he pointed out dryly. "What exactly are we doing here? It's not like you can ask for a menu or shit."
"That's correct," Roy surmised as he dug through his pockets for the key he'd been able to take from his house. "But the owner of this restaurant was a good friend of mine. He left me a key for when my team and I got off of work very late, so we could come and cook something for ourselves. I'm very familiar with the kitchens here."
"I mean . . . great, so we're not breaking and entering, but isn't he going to notice some of his supplies are gone? Pretty sure he's not fucking blind, and it's pretty damn obvious you're dead. He's not going to think it's you."
"Somehow, I doubt he'll care overly much. We aren't going to eat him out of house and home. And I always leave everything the way I found it." Roy shrugged and gestured for Ed to go inside in front of him. "Don't worry about it," he insisted, "this is a date, after all. Don't worry about any of it and let me handle everything."
Golden eyes locked onto Roy's, and for a moment he wondered just what was going through Ed's mind. He probably hadn't been asked on a date like this in years . . . especially considering his personality. "Fine," the angel finally answered with a scoff, but Roy grinned in delight. He could hear the pleasure and nervousness in Edward's tone. Which meant that, at the very least, this was something he could help Ed to remember him by.
The restaurant was just as dark inside as it was outside, but Roy didn't plan on dining in the open guest area. Instead, he bypassed it entirely and led Ed to the back, where a separate room was set up for those who could afford it or those who planned romantic dates like Roy tended to do. He couldn't help it. There was just a part of him that desired to make his dates as pleased as they could possibly get. It was why Riza had once nicknamed him "The Flame" . . . she once said he was so sappy and flirty some of the girls could probably catch on fire if they came too close.
He'd never courted a man before, though, so this was an all new experience. He just couldn't help wanting Ed to feel the same way all those girls used to. No. Better. Because Ed was different, he was unique. Roy could see that. And he would get the best of the best, even if he thought it was the most ridiculous thing on the face of this earth.
And sure enough . . .
"Bloody fucking hell," Ed groaned, taking one look at the dimly lit room with its two-person table and floral arrangement. "I figured we'd be going out for burgers and a beer or something like that, not a fucking five-star joint. You're ridiculous."
"Ah, I live for that phrase," Roy chuckled in reply. "I simply don't like to half-do things."
"This shit might be taking that to the extreme."
"Well, you can sit down and wait while I cook our dinner, or you can come back to the kitchen and watch. Your choice."
"Well fuck. I mean all I do is sit and watch so there's no in between, is there?" He jammed his hands into his pockets and nodded at Roy. "At least the kitchen's probably less fruity. Lead the way."
"If you would prefer to sit in the main dining area, that can be arranged as well," he thoughtfully replied, turning to step into the (frankly, magnificent) back kitchens. "I just thought it might be more prudent to use a room that no one would notice the lights were on in, rather than thinking someone was actually breaking into the restaurant."
"Nah," Ed was surprisingly quick to answer. "I figure you probably planned it like that so I'll just let you mess up yourself. I mean shit, I don't remember the last time I had a date. Don't think I ever planned on either, y'know, being . . ."
"Ah," Roy answered, pulling out an apron to tie around his nice suit. "So you've always gone for the handsome young men, then."
"Listen, bastard, if you're trying to set yourself up as young and good looking, you might have another thing coming," Ed laughed smartly, but quickly shook his head. "I never knew until after I . . . uh. Never had time for dating. Now I have all the fucking time in the world and I can never actually stay with anyone so I figure it's kind of pointless in the end."
"You can never stay with them because . . ."
"You know why."
Ah. Of course. Ed could never stay with anyone he found attractive because the only reason he met them in the first place was because they had died. And if they had suffered deaths like his, then that meant those people either came back to life, or ended up like Ed themselves. Either ending was unfortunate for Ed. "Was there anyone before?"
The angel hopped up on top of a dishwasher, his mismatched hands rising above his head as he stretched leisurely. This, at least, he seemed to have no problem talking about. "Yeah, once. It's been so long I don't remember what he looks like anymore. He was one of the few who came back to life."
"Did he leave you?"
Ed shook his head, and lowered his arms to his sides. "Actually . . . if you make it through all tasks, you won't be able to see me anymore. Literally, I mean. I could be standing right in front of you, screaming in your face, and you wouldn't hear or see a single damn thing." He shrugged. "So basically, he moved on, and I was still stuck like this. It's fine. He wound up living a great life in the end. Had a sweet wife."
So Ed had watched him.
And that . . . that made Roy's heart sink. He was a romantic. He was every ounce a romantic as the cheesiest comedies they could show on TV. Edward had watched the person he'd come to care about, even though that person could no longer see him. He'd watched him find someone else to love. He'd watched him grow away, grow to forget the relationship he had with that person, no matter if it had only lasted for a month.
He couldn't even imagine how Edward had felt.
So now . . . what was he doing? Flirting with this being who was no longer human, who had to watch all of his friends grow old and die. Everyone he met, everyone he'd encountered, had either moved on or had suffered just like him. Wasn't he doing just the same thing? Wasn't he going to leave him?
Except. Except he didn't want to.
"What happens if someone doesn't make it through? Do you ever see them again?" he tried.
"Don't you fucking think about it," Ed answered vehemently. "This isn't a life I'd ask anyone to have. If you want to call this shit job a life. I'd rather watch someone I care about move on with their life than have them sit through this hell. Fuck being immortal and shit, I just want my bro—" He sucked in a heavy breath and jerked his head to the side. "Anyway. Don't fucking do it, okay? Try your hardest to make it back alive, Roy. Your life is more valuable than that."
"Do you say that to everyone?" Roy asked, turning to face Ed with a raised eyebrow. "Everyone you meet. Do you always tell them to do what they can to stay alive?" He took a deep breath and decided to press once more, "You seem more determined than anyone else I've ever met. You seem to have someone you want to save more than anything. So why didn't you make it, Ed?"
"I thought you were making our fucking dinner," he spat instead, and whirled to walk off. Once again, Roy got nothing out of him.
Maybe it was for the best that he just stopped asking. He'd known Ed for such a small amount of time. He wouldn't know him for much longer, either. Once he . . . figured out what else in life he regretted, once he figured out what he was willing to sacrifice, he would be back with his team in that small police building, making jokes about Havoc's hair and poking fun at Falman's expressions. With the people he cared most for.
And Edward would not be with him. He would be stuck, like this. Until his time had ended, until he could rescue the one waiting for him.
But, for this one month, Roy was going to try his hardest to make sure Edward knew that his efforts were appreciated more than he could express in words.
So he cooked up the best damn dishes he knew how to make in this restaurant and carried them out with as much gusto as he could, complete with the towel draped elegantly over one arm. Ed was, blessedly, still in the restaurant. Roy had half thought the angel would take off. But whether it was because he thought he'd been too harsh or because he simply couldn't leave Roy, he was still there, sitting in one of the two seats in the little room and glaring sullenly at the dainty white tablecloth.
But when his eyes rose up to meet Roy's, at first defensive, that sullen glance was immediately replaced with one of ridiculous proportions. It was one that Roy certainly wanted to see and it made his heart soar a little bit to see that he had cheered the angel up ever so slightly.
"You," Edward proclaimed, "are a fucking saptastic idiot."
"Precisely what I was hoping for," he chuckled as he set down their plates. He then pulled a bottle of wine from his apron pocket and expertly poured two glasses of the best wine the restaurant owned. "I apologize, Edward. I must have been incredibly forward and inconsiderate to ask you about your own personal struggles. The circumstances of one's death aren't always the most memorable or talked about things."
"Uh." Ed glanced from the glass of wine up to Roy's, and the former policeman noticed a slight flush on those tan cheeks. "Apology accepted. Or something."
"Go ahead and eat. I swear it's not poisoned."
"Wouldn't really matter if it is," he snorted, but he continued to watch Roy curiously. Roy, slightly thrown off by Ed's sudden interest in watching him, sat down gingerly and placed the towel and apron off to the side.
Eating was an experience when one was dead, Roy thought to himself as he bit into his meal. All of the flavors seemed dulled somehow, like they were passing through him just like the rest of humanity seemed to. It also seemed to disappear somewhere inside him, or maybe it just went straight through and he never had to look. Either way, there were pros and cons to the sensation.
"I think I'm going to miss the lack of urge to shit once I'm corporeal again," he sighed, mostly for Ed's benefit, and glanced up to judge his reaction.
He looked amused, at least, and entirely ethereal now that he'd lit the little candles sitting on their table. The flames seemed to accentuate Ed's golden hue and made him seem more angelic than his mannerisms could ever make him. Not for the first time, Roy wondered if he looked that way when he was a human. Somehow, the thought allured him more than the thought of Ed as an angel did.
What had he been as a human? This was something Roy wanted to know desperately. How old he was, what his family had been like, why he was always so bitter now . . . Roy wanted to know all of these things about him. And he'd only known him for a day. There had to be something wrong with him to think this way.
"Any idea what your second regret is you want to fix?" Ed questioned, apparently done staring at him for the time being. Instead he was inhaling his food like he would starve to death if he didn't get it all down him, and Roy momentarily prided himself on being a good cook. It was pretty damn good, if he did say so himself.
"We've only been at it a day," he pointed out. He didn't understand what the rush was. He felt like he needed time to think it over, figure out what was really significant to him.
"Every day counts, Roy. Every single day. Don't treat this like a game. Not like I did." Once again those glaring golden eyes stared him down. "I've seen how your team cares about you. Don't fuck it up. Don't make them lose their livelihoods too just because you think you have more time than you actually do. One month. Thirty days. You need as many days for that last task as you can get because that is the one that fucks everyone up, Roy Mustang. Don't you doubt that for a second. If you can sit here right now and tell me what you're willing to sacrifice . . . if you tell me you've already figured it out, then you're going to fail. Because nothing is ever as fucking simple as that. I can guarantee it."
"There is one other thing off the top of my head that I've regretted for as long as I can remember," he admitted, setting his fork down. "But I'd prefer not to talk about it at the moment. This is a date, I don't want to talk about myself. And I don't want to make you uncomfortable either. The only thing you ever get to talk about is someone else's life. Or lack thereof." Roy leaned forward, propping his chin up with a hand to stare down the other's gaze. "So, Edward, tell me something about yourself. Something you only share with those who ask. It can be stupid, scary, silly, serious. Whatever you want to tell me."
"I'm going to vomit," was Ed's snarky reply.
"Tragically," Roy responded with an answering smirk, "I think we are at the point where vomiting is sort of impossible. Frankly, I'm not even sure where the food is going anymore."
"You're—"
"I'm?"
"Actually a fucking trip sometimes."
"I take great pleasure in that acknowledgment."
"Yeah, whatever." Ed fell quiet, and Roy let him be. Whether he was thinking about what to say, or whether he had decided the conversation was over as of that moment, he wasn't sure. But he would let the angel figure things out on his own. As much as he wanted to know, pressuring him into anything had already proven to be a big mistake.
He took a sip of his wine, regretting that it honestly just tasted like bitter water to his dead tongue, and then Ed spoke up.
"You asked me last night about my right arm."
Roy's head whipped up to stare at the metal limb. The more he saw it, the more allured he was by it. And the more curious he was to know just what had happened to Ed. What tragedy lay behind it. Whether it had something to do with why he was here like this or not. "Yes," he agreed, watching one silver finger tap the edge of the table. He'd never seen a prosthetic limb move as smoothly as this one did.
"Fuck knows how long it's been since it happened. I don't even remember the original date anymore. I mean . . . the date I was . . . yeah. Anyway." Ed huffed out a quiet sigh. "There was a fucking stupid accident. It was my fault. I was a kid, I didn't know any better. Long story short, I was playing with my dad's old experiments in the basement and set the house on fire. My mother and my brother got out just fine, but I got stuck down there. Managed to hide behind this old fire safe my dad had but I was already hurt pretty damn bad. Lost my arm and my left leg too. Burns were too severe."
"Your leg too?" Roy managed to ask as soon as he could swallow the thick knot in his throat. Ed had been so nonchalant when he talked about it. Like it was just something that had happened on a normal day. What the hell had happened to Ed to make losing two entire limbs something of a common occurrence?
Ed slipped to the side of the table and flung his left leg out to the floor. Now that Roy knew, he could hear the thick hollow clunk it made when it hit. He knew what he'd see when Ed rolled up his pant leg. Silvery, sleek metal, going all the way up over his knee to his thigh. It was just as alluring as his arm but . . . now that he knew the reasoning behind it, Roy couldn't help feeling a little less turned on by it.
Not that he was sickened by it at all, which, judging by the tight expression on Ed's face, he was expecting Roy to be.
So Roy reached down and gently brushed his fingers against the metal, acknowledging that, angel or not, this was a part of Ed. This was his body, silver and golden both. "It's so very well done," he commented softly, looking back up at the angel. Ed's expression had tightened, but not in an unwanted manner. In fact he seemed a little . . . intrigued by Roy's interest. "Even with you being older than I can fathom, I've never seen workmanship this exact."
"That's because no one made automail like my best friend and her grandmother did," Ed affirmed proudly. "Second I found out I was down two limbs I was asking for their help. I . . . probably would've still been paying them off today though. If they were still alive, I mean. Shit was expensive." He rubbed at his wrist distractedly. "But they were great. Winry and Granny. Dunno what I'd do if this set ever breaks down. I imagine it probably will at some point."
Which meant that neither of them were the ones he was trying to save. Even if Edward hadn't meant to spill a couple of his more important secrets, Roy was piecing together a little bit of what had happened. Not why, not how, but perhaps maybe who.
"My parents died before I ever got to know them," Roy told him, "so I may not have experienced as much loss as you did, but I know what it's like to continue living without the ones that should have been there."
If Edward was willing to give, then he had to be willing to give too.
"What happened to them?" Ed asked as he rolled down his pant sleeve.
"My mother died giving birth," Roy answered easily. "My father died shortly after. He was in the war. I'm not sure if you knew about it. It wasn't dramatic or anything. He just got hit by a stray bullet from our own side. I was left with my aunt. Who," he added quickly, "is possibly the best person to ever have raised me. I can't imagine how I would have come out otherwise."
"Is she as cheesy and over the top as you are?"
"Actually," he replied with a grin, "she's as blunt and rude as they come. Made me want to be nothing like her. But I still do and always will appreciate her honesty."
"I bet I'd like her," Ed conceded.
"I bet she would like you too."
In fact, he imagined they'd have a blast together, especially once Aunt Chris got into her stash of baby photos. She always did like to make fun of those whenever she could.
"You're weird."
"Excuse me?"
Edward had wrinkled his nose, staring hard at Roy in the silence that had just transpired. Now his eyes were more content than they'd been all day, and with a loud thunk he dropped his right elbow on the table to lean forward a little more. "Like, different. Like . . . I don't fuckin' know, but when I first saw you I thought you were lousy and probably deserved to be the bait for a demon. But I was probably a right dick to think that. You're interesting. And probably the first person who . . ."
"Who?"
He cleared his throat awkwardly.
"The first person to treat me like I'm human in a long time," the angel finally admitted.
"Well," Roy answered, rising slowly to his feet, "aren't you? You weren't always an angel. You look like you were a lot younger than me when you had to go through this. And even in that short span of time, more happened to you than I can ever imagine happening to me. That's not just human. That's a life of unfortunate circumstances." He stepped across the table, in front of Ed. The golden-haired man stared back, although his face seemed a lot more awkward. Roy was more sure than ever, though. Even if he wound up hurting both of them, at least he could give Ed a proper life for the one month or less he was here with him.
"I'm here because I'm a fucking idiot," Ed answered quietly, but he still didn't seem willing to share. And that was fine.
"That's just the thing, isn't it?" Roy asked. "An angel can't be a fucking idiot because, at least to us, angels are supposed to be perfect. You're no angel. You're just Edward. At least, that's how I see you."
Imperfect. Human. They were one and the same, to him, and Edward embodied that sentiment perfectly. Roy looked down at his golden eyes, and reached a hand out to touch the golden braid.
And then he couldn't resist the impulsive decision to lean down to the being siting in the chair, to look him boldly in the eyes, and to press his lips to Ed's.
His lips weren't soft, like a woman's, or shapely. Ed's mouth was rough and firm and everything Roy wanted to be kissing. They tasted like the wine they'd been drinking, and he got more flavor of it out of the kiss than he ever could drinking from the glass. For a moment, he thought he was going to be pushed away; the form beneath him was stiff with shock and almost offended.
But then Ed reached up, twisting silver fingers into Roy's short hair and dragging him closer to him. It hurt, of course; Ed's grip was stronger than any flesh hand could be. But Roy didn't protest, he would never protest, because Ed's teeth biting down on his lip, the way his breaths panted harshly and desperately . . . it all went straight to his heart and his groin as one. Ed was beautiful.
He wasn't just an angel.
To Roy, he was the highest order. An archangel.
When they pulled apart, both of them panting, Edward's eyes met Roy's dark ones. He swallowed, met the gaze, and resisted the urge to go right back in for more.
"Please," Ed whispered to him, as earnestly as he could, "make it through this."