Thank you all for reviewing! How much sense this chapter makes at this point probably depends a lot on how much you've guessed about what happened to Ed in Germany (and your knowledge of WW2). If it confuses people, I'll put up an author's note explaining this one after we find out just what Ed got up to in Germany. For now, I'll keep quiet :) Enjoy!
Three days after Ed's startling, horrifying return, things had not improved at all.
Despite his broken automail, he refused to stay in bed. Neither would he talk to Roy, however. He'd hobble around like some kind of demented specter, haunting the halls and ignoring him whenever he was calm, glaring at him like he might just be about to commit murder whenever not. Just what the hell Ed was doing, however, was another question that he had no answer to.
He obsessed over reading, whatever he could get his hands on. Usually one of the alchemy books Roy still had, and at first he was worried, anxious that Ed was searching for the forbidden, because even though he'd more than learned his lesson the first time he tried it, he wouldn't put it past him to try again, for Al's sake. But Roy had burned all his books dealing with human transmutation years ago, and even if he hadn't- it didn't seem like that was Ed's intent.
Even his books on alchemy basics, foundations Ed had probably mastered before he was three- he read them. Tracing the simple circles in the pages with a shaking hand, eyes unreadable.
When Roy had asked him what the hell he was doing, Ed had shut the book and limped away.
Then there was the constant transmuting; at this point Roy was half expecting his arm to just straight up rust and oxidize into dust, at the rate he kept doing it. It seemed every other minute he was hearing the sound of someone clapping through the house, then the electric spark of a transmutation. He wasn't transmuting for any purpose, either- sometimes he fixated on a door, making the doorknob just change shape for hours; sometimes it was Roy's clothes, alchemizing them to fit then making them grow again- once, he'd gotten up during breakfast, picked up his plate, and dropped it to shatter on the floor.
Then he'd fixed it, frowned at it, glared at Roy, and walked away again.
As far as he could tell, Ed still hadn't once transmuted his arm back from the blade he'd made the first morning.
That was another cause for concern, actually- the automail. It wasn't just the fact that it obviously had not seen maintenance in many years. It had plainly been abused, and it was bad enough that the alchemist clearly was in some amount of pain and would've been better off having it removed entirely. Something else Roy was putting of asking him about, because the last time he'd even mentioned the Rockbells, it had not gone well.
Three days, since his return... and all Roy had figured out was that he was in far, far over his head.
Which wasn't a good place for him to be, because he couldn't take any more time off work.
Roy waited until dinner to broach the topic, trying not to pay too much attention to the way Ed still devoured his food like he expected it to disappear and even slipped a piece of bread into his sleeve, hoarding it for later and unaware Roy had noticed. Yet another new habit he had no idea how to address, and more than that, wasn't sure he wanted to. Pushing Ed, even to the smallest degrees he'd risked, had not ended well.
Ed was still ignoring him, so Roy simply watched him, waiting all two minutes it took for him to finish eating- then clearing his throat, just before Ed could make it out of the room.
The alchemist tensed.
Slowly, warily, he turned his head back just an inch, and the moment their eyes met, Ed glared at him so harshly he almost expected to be hit.
Roy frowned.
"I just thought I would mention," he began carefully, "that I'm going to return to work tomorrow. You'll need to start fending for yourself over the day."
Ed tilted his head a little, automail blade wavering by his side. His eyes narrowed. "You done babysitting me now?" he hissed. "Or you going to lock me in here? Put an array on the door that'll blow up if I try and run?"
Roy sighed. No, he hadn't figured out why Ed still responded to him with such ridiculous venom, either. "No, Ed, I'm not. I'm trusting that you'll do what's good for you and stay, but I'm not going to lock you in my basement and treat you like a prisoner. If you really want to leave, then I'm not going to stand in your way."
It was a weak challenge, and they both knew it. Ed was too smart, and too good an alchemist; the only way to actually keep him here against his will would be to handcuff or drug him. He was not about to do that to him. If Ed really could not stand to stay here any longer, then Roy knew he'd already be gone.
After several moments passed in silence, Ed just glaring at him, Roy cleared his throat and tried again. "I would stay longer, but Lieutenant Hawkeye's going to get suspicious if this keeps up. She doesn't trust me like she used to. I can't afford to call in sick again, or she's going to show up here. I'm guessing you don't want that."
Ed blinked, the black anger in his eyes finally cooling a little at the sudden realization that Roy was doing him a favor. Ed stared for a moment, some of the hostility finally draining away from his face, then coughed abruptly and looked away, expression turning cold again. "It doesn't matter," he muttered sullenly, but Roy was not so much of an idiot to believe that was true.
"Right," he murmured, not bothering to call him out on it. "Well. I'll be home for breakfast and dinner, but please eat something during the day. I don't care what, Ed; you need it." He frowned, not even trying to disguise the motion as his eye trailed over him again, fixating on the weight he desperately needed to gain back. Really, he doubted he even needed to say it, by the way Ed had been devouring everything put before him, but he wanted to be safe.
When Ed just shrugged a little, still looking too irritated with him to do him the decency of a response- though just why he was irritated at all, Roy still didn't have a clue- he just sighed, giving up. "If you need anything, you know where to find me," he muttered, making to move past Ed and return to his study.
Then, just as he passed, slipping by with barely an inch of space between them- he caught sight of Ed's bare skin, underneath his collar.
Roy's eye widened.
"Fullmetal..."
Ed jerked, stiffening just at the tone of voice. He started to reel away, shoulders tensing and eyes flashing in the unmistakable light of one who thought he was under attack- but, Roy was faster than him, and he grabbed the nightshirt's shoulder and yanked it aside before Ed could make it far enough out of reach.
What he revealed made him gasp.
Ed yanked away from his suddenly loosened grip, staggering several steps back to pull his shirt back into place. His eyes screamed murder once again, rusted and creaking automail blade upraised and body tensed as a living weapon. He shifted into a slight crouch, looking ready to lunge or fight if need be, and for just one moment, teeth bared and eyes blazing and sheer hate etched into every single line of his hollowed face- Roy truly believed he would.
Unfortunately for Ed, he wasn't about to stop just because he was being glared at.
"What the hell is wrong with you?"
Ed, tense and wary, remained silent.
The day Ed had returned, he'd been covered in blood. Roy, more than slightly uncomfortable with washing it off his unconscious, naked body, had simply told Ed he was free to use his shower whenever he wanted, and left it at that. He had assumed, like any sane person, that Ed would have washed it off days ago.
However, he now could see that that was not the case.
Ed hadn't even touched it.
Three and a half days, now... and he was still walking around covered in his brother's blood.
His stomach flipped nauseatingly, and, in a rising sense of horror, Roy forced his eye off Ed's enraged stare. He turned to the disheveled sleeve he'd pulled aside, under which he could still catch a glimpse of the massive stains. "What- possessed you-" he stammered weakly, feeling almost ill. What was wrong with him? "Ed, you- you can't walk around like this! Are you insane?! Why haven't you washed that off?!"
At the challenge, Ed only tensed even further, teeth still bared in a snarl that was almost animal in its disgust. "Shut up," he hissed, enraged eyes darting as if in search of an escape route before returning, right back to him, to bore straight through his own in murderous fury. "You fucking- shut up. I can't walk around like this? Or what, what are you gonna do, Mustang? You fucking shit, what do you even think you're going to do?"
And there it was again- something part of him recognized, that caustic, angry boy who tossed around insults like endearments, an Ed from many years ago- but part of it was just... off. The thing he'd always lacked was intent; Ed's rants had never been intended to hurt, more of just a rebellious kid running his mouth to blow off steam, trying to function in an adult world- but this...
Ed wasn't carelessly calling him a useless bastard or Colonel Sarcasm this time.
This time, the intent to hurt was there.
He could feel it rolling straight off him in sickened, murderous waves.
After several moments, still grounded by that stare, Roy finally shook himself. Now was hardly the time for such thoughts. "Edward," he insisted firmly, and tried to tell himself those cold, cold eyes weren't unsettling him, "you are not going to walk around here covered in your brother's blood. Go wash it off. Now."
Ed's eyes flashed, and then- then, he laughed, mouth slipping into something of a horrific grin, not one of amusement but one of a predator about to bite the neck off its prey. "It's not his blood," was all he said, a low, hoarse whisper, and his blade shook in the air.
Once again, Roy simply shook his head. Clearly, Ed's intent was to be difficult about this. Well, if he wanted to act like a five year old, then, evidently, Roy was going to have to treat him like one. "I don't much care whose blood it is," he informed him crossly, beginning to push up his sleeves. "It's getting cleaned off. It's unhygienic, don't get me started on the fact that it makes me think you're losing it, and, frankly, it's disgusting. You are coming with me, and so help me, if I have to watch you use my shower to make sure you do it, I will. Come, Ed."
Later, Roy would look back on that moment, and realize where it all went wrong. He'd realize when the hatred in Ed's eyes shifted, morphing from burning, predatory hate to the beginnings of that hunted fear. He'd curse and berate and hate himself for not seeing it, because god knew he'd seen such a look in his own eye enough times to recognize it in another's- but he hadn't been expecting it, had just been approaching this as a regular argument with Ed, so he missed it.
It was a crucial mistake.
Ed jerked a step back, blade rising again. His back hit the wall, and his feet shifted again, legs bending as if about to lunge. "Don't you fucking touch me," he gasped, voice etching higher with- with what? Panic, strain, a willingness to fight? "Back off!"
Roy groaned to himself. This was ridiculous. "Believe me, I'd love to. I have no desire to spend my day watching you shower. But, if you're not going to do it yourself, you don't leave me a choice." Really, he was trying to be understanding, he really was- but he'd been through enough battles, lost enough people, to know how brazenly unacceptable this was. He may not have known what actually happened to Al, but even Roy, poster-child for unhealthy ways to cope with stress and trauma, had never just wandered his halls covered in blood for days at a time. It would be good for Ed in the long run, and, more importantly, if he let this behavior continue, the only place for it to end was somewhere devastatingly bad.
He held still for several seconds, hoping for Ed to take the rational choice here once he understood it wasn't a choice at all. But Ed didn't so much as move. The alchemist stared wildly at him, not moving an inch, not saying a word, just watching him with that glazed look of burning hatred- and at last, Roy just threw up his hands and re-commenced his approach.
"Stop- stop it- back the fuck off don't you fucking touch me- no-"
"You're not giving me much a choice here, Ed," Roy sighed, resigning himself for the inevitable fight that was to come. Without giving him any more time, he leaned down to the cornered alchemist, grabbed him by the shoulders, and started to herd him out of the room.
"No! NO! STOP! NO-"
"Will you calm down?!"he broke in exasperatedly. The raw shout made him flinch, but Roy steeled himself, still making himself force the uncooperative boy to move and not let it get to him. Because by god, he was not going to be gentle and try and calmly explain the benefits of washing off his dead brother's blood. No wonder he'd been such a mess these past three days, walking around covered in that-! It felt like sinking down to try and argue with an insane man over the validity of his delusions. Some things were too impossible to give rational discussion and this was one of them. "It's not going to hurt you, Ed, it's just a fucking shower-"
Ed screamed at him again, this time a wordless wail. He wrenched and thrashed, and this time it was all instinct; Roy saw him about to break free and, more bewildered at the level of fight he was putting up than anything else, caught him roughly by his flesh shoulder, holding him in place. His automail barely functional, the rest of him still recovering, he just wasn't able to put up enough of a fight: Roy overcame his nonexistent resistance, slipped an arm around his legs, and hoisted him up into the air.
And immediately realized two things.
The first: Ed was not fighting him out of stubbornness, reluctance, or even just an unwillingness to wash the blood off.
For whatever reason, Ed thought he was fighting for his life.
The second:
Edward Elric was not, and would never be, helpless.
A metal knee slammed to his chest, Roy staggered- and five metal fingers crushed around his throat.
"Nein! Nein! NEIN! NEIN! NEIN! AUFHÖREN! AUFHÖREN, TU DAS NICHT! TU DAS NICHT, TU DAS NICHT!"
He hit the floor. Some very small, distant part of his mind heard the crack of his skull on the hallway table, and the scream of old wounds as he was pinned to the wood.
The rest of him saw nothing but Ed's face above his own.
And in that face- despite Ed being the one on top of him, despite Ed's metal hand being locked around his throat, despite Ed being able to crush his jugular and kill him right then and there if he so desired- in that face, amber eyes impossibly wide and stricken, desperation carved into ever line and scar, panic alight in frantic screams of words he did not know- Roy saw terror.
Ed was absolutely terrified.
Of him.
His last thought was that he had made a very huge mistake.
"NEIN! NEIN! NEIN!"
He blacked out.
Waking up, Roy's body one giant, walking bruise, came with the feeling he'd could've only been out for several minutes. There were no longer fingers around his throat, or the weight of someone on top of him.
His head still throbbed like a cracked egg, mind still spun, and it took him more than several moments to place just why he was on the floor and what had happened.
When he remembered, his stomach dropped, and any possible words he might've said were robbed from him along with his breath.
The back of his head felt tender and sore when he probed it with his fingertips, but he didn't find any lump, so he tentatively sat up, steadfastly ignoring how the world tried to tilt drunkenly and squinting through the blurring colors. Ed was gone. Oh, god. Ed was gone.
He stumbled dizzyingly to his feet, clutching his wall for support when the world tilted again. Instantly, his bleary mind raced with possibilities. He'd blacked out- for how long? Too long. Minutes if not hours. What if-
Ed didn't want to be here, Ed hated him, even if he didn't understand why or what had happened it was undeniably clear that Ed did not want this and hated him. And after what he'd just done to him... what if Ed was gone? What if he'd run? What if he'd realized Roy was unconscious and seen his chance and bolted and that was that?
No- no... Roy's stomach bottomed out again and he lurched several feet forward, searching in an almost panicked haze. No. Ed couldn't have left. Roy couldn't have failed him again. He wasn't going to disappear again, that just... wasn't how it worked. Ed wasn't going to vanish out of his life again, because he'd barely survived it the first time, and he'd spent years clawing his way back to this place of functioning, achievements no longer promotions or commendations but getting out of bed in the morning and just making it through the day- Ed wasn't going to knock him right back down to where he'd been seven years ago, that little fucking shit-
Another gasp tore its way out of him. No sign of Ed. No sign. Panting, he tore through the rest of the house, staggering when old wounds made themselves known but always catching himself in time to continue his frantic search. Now wasn't the time for this, damn it, he had to find Ed! No, no, no, not here, not here, no...
He's going to leave, an insidious, poisonous voice whispered in the back of his mind. What help have you been to him? None, that's right. None at all. You are utterly worthless- no, worse than that; you're poison. You turn everything you touch to mud. He's going to leave. He's going to run away before you ruin him like everything else. He's going to leave, and you'll never see him again, and he'll die, won't he, he'll die because you couldn't so much as keep him safe for one god damn week, you useless shit-
Oh, god-
"ED!" he shouted, and the weak desperation that rang in the cry stunned even himself but he just didn't care. "Ed, Ed, where are you?! Are you still here?! ED!"
There was no reply.
"EDWARD!"
The silence of his home rang in his ears, suffocating and oppressive and pressing in on him from all sides. It felt hard to breathe and he shook in place, the enormity of what he'd done growing up like a wave to crush him. There was no one here. Ed was gone. He'd left. He had left; Roy what the hell is wrong with you, how could you drive him away now of all times?! He needs someone to take care of him and you drove him off into the streets; Roy you FUCK UP!
Ed-
Wait.
Wait.
His panicked breaths screeched to a stop, and Roy, frozen in place, closed his eyes and actually listened.
For a moment, all there was to hear was the hard pounding of his own heart in his ear, da-thump, da-thump, da-thump, but, then...
The faint sound of someone breathing.
The faint sound of someone breathing, and the ragged, quiet gasps that marked it as Ed's.
His heart skipped a beat.
Ed.
Ed.
For several moments, there was room for nothing but crushing relief.
But this was not about him, and all too soon, that relief faded, because in the wings was waiting a horrified, sickened guilt, for what he had done, and a twisting, gnawing anxiety, for what he still had to do.
He hadn't checked the bedroom before. He'd been so utterly convinced Ed was gone, had left, he hadn't even thought to check back in the one place that would mean he wasn't going to run. He hadn't looked back in his bedroom- but now that he has stopped to actually listen-
Roy turned, and, on shaking feet, walked back after the sounds.
And the stubborn, lingering remains of his relief, painful in their vibrancy, were quickly smashed to smithereens when he hesitantly followed after the noise and found Ed, and understood the full extent of what he'd broken.
Ed- still there, perfectly unharmed, for some unfathomable reason had not run from him Ed- sat on the floor of what had become his bedroom, huddled up and so small he could've been mistaken for a five year old child. He was sunk into the corner, flesh arm holding his knees to his chest, automail one shaking by his side... still morphed into that blade he hadn't once let go of, ever since that first morning over three days ago. His face was partially hidden in the cocoon made by his legs, long hair shielding his eyes, but...
But he still looked terrified.
For several moments, Roy just stood there, and watched. Something in his chest clenched at the sight, and both fervor and panic cooled to a quiet, churning sort of guilt that left him nearly sick to his stomach.
Ed never looked at him.
It took a monumental effort, and a long period of standing in the doorway to silently watch him, for Roy to move away, leaving him alone for the moment. He limped away as quietly and quickly as he could, willing himself not to think or brood or dwell, just let his mind be a blank.
If his hands wouldn't stop shaking, he ignored it.
All too soon, he was back in his bedroom, faced with more guilt than he knew what to do with and a silent, trembling Ed. Swallowing hard, Roy limped stiffly forward, coming to a halt before he was close enough to touch him and instead lowering himself carefully to the floor. Now was not the time to force an approach. This had to be Ed's choice.
Roy paused for several moments, waiting for Ed to back away or tell him to stop. When no response came, he still held himself back, knowing it had to be Ed's decision whether or not he'd be touched now. Instead, he gently tossed the damp washcloth in his hands forward, letting it softly thump to the wood flooring just obtrusively enough to get Ed's attention.
Ed went still.
Ed stiffened.
Ed, very slowly, and jerkily, raised his gaze, first looking up from his knees to the washcloth, then, raising his head a little higher, letting his gaze land on Roy's face.
He still looked terrified, and Roy, even in his own miserable guilt, knew he wasn't imagining the fact that the moment Ed found him sitting there just across from him, that fear got even worse.
Faced with the murderous distrust, silent hate, and trembling fear, all of it earned, Roy swallowed, forcing himself to face it without flinching. He deserved this. "I apologize," he rasped quietly, not breaking Ed's gaze. "I tried to force you to do something you weren't comfortable with. I shouldn't have."
For several moments, Ed did not respond. He simply watched him, still huddled in a tiny ball against his wall, radiating distrust and quiet fear.
"...Can you tell me what exactly I did that you didn't like? So I know what to avoid in the future?" he ventured, even if the question was simply pathetic in its stupidity. Oh, yes, which part of this trainwreck had been him crossing the line? Perhaps when he'd manhandled him into the hallway rather than approaching the topic of Ed's dead brother with gentleness and care? Maybe when he'd yelled at him? Or when he'd overrode all of his protests, ignored the fact he'd been traumatized, hurt, and abused, and just picked him up to drag him somewhere against his will?
An easier question to answer would've been what he'd done right today.
The alchemist's head jerked in a tiny shake and he shut his eyes, moaning into his knees. He was plainly still reeling from the flashback and Roy held very still, heart in his throat. Don't fuck this up, too, you useless shit. Don't fucking scare him now too on top of everything else.
Then, hoarse and quiet, finally, he got his answer.
"Take your eyepatch off."
Roy stared.
"...Um... Ed?"
But nothing- nothing, except that silent, terrified, expectant stare- was forthcoming.
After several moments, it became very clear there wasn't really another choice.
Hesitantly, suddenly not really able to meet Ed's eyes, Roy reached a hand up. He hesitated, gut twisting, then just shut his eye and forced himself to push the eyepatch up and off his head. He took in another shuddering breath, then jerked his hand down to his lap, clenching his fist in useless tension. He reminded himself if he could face down bullets, he could face this, then forced his gaze back to Ed, and held still.
Ed stared at him.
His blind side throbbed, likely from the earlier fall, and he resisted the urge to rub or hide it again. Ed was staring at him- it- but, not with a look that made much sense. Not one of disgust or revulsion, even some of that earlier hatred was gone; he just stared at the ruined half of his face with a hard, searching stare, almost as if... he was trying to find something.
It took perhaps a full minute, for Ed to finally just sigh, slumping forward to rest his forehead on his knee. In the instant before his eyes were hidden, all Roy could glimpse in them was exhausted, miserable defeat. "It doesn't help," he said quietly, but Roy got the feeling he wasn't being addressed in the slightest. "You're still... you still look like... him."
Then, after several moments of quiet, Ed retrieved the damp washcloth from the floor, still without looking at him, looked down at himself waveringly- then, silently, began to clean off the blood.
Olive branch accepted, then.
"I still hate you," Ed said quietly, and once again, it felt as if the alchemist were talking to himself- not to Roy.
Whether he was being spoken to or not, Roy decided there was little else for him to do but remain silent, and after what he'd done earlier, not approach him again. After he'd as good as broken any shards of trust Ed had in him, it was clear Ed did not want him here, and no matter how much it pained him that meant he was not force himself any closer. He remained a good several feet back, legs crossed, eyepatch still held limply in his hand, and simply held his post as a silent sentry to watch as Ed washed off the blood. It had dried a long time ago, coming off without much trouble, though there were a few thicker patches that would probably need soap and a hot shower- well.
That, evidently, would have to wait a little while.
Ed moved methodically, scrubbing away at the blood with a leisurely lack of urgency, his face blank. It wasn't long before he had systematically removed almost every stain from his skin, and rather see to the few that remained, Ed simply lay the ruined cloth down on the floor next to himself and unsteadily climbed up to sit on the bed. He, quite clearly, was done with this. Cleaning off the blood, looking at Roy, sitting there silently- whatever this was, he was done with it.
Roy paused, left behind to sit on the floor. Clearing his throat uncomfortably, he reached forward to collect the cloth and stood as well. If Ed wanted to be left alone- well, Roy was lucky the alchemist was even being this cordial with him. He deserved far worse. Clearing his throat, with a glance over his automail, still covered in rusting, brown-red blood stains that simple scrub down with water would not fix, he said, "If you tell me what solution you use to clean your automail, I'll try and pick some up for you tomorrow. You can also try and find something here, but I'm afraid all I've got is rubbing alcohol." He paused, throat thick. "...Good night, Edward."
He was almost to the door, each step lurching through a sickening swamp of guilt, when Ed stopped him.
"It wasn't Al's blood."
Roy paused. "...You've said that."
Ed's fierce eyes landed on him again. The alchemist watched him quietly, unreadable again, and for a boy who'd worn his heart on his sleeve seeing him this withdrawn and still was unsettling to an almost painful degree. Ed said nothing at first, just looking in silence, then-
"It was yours."
Then, he lay down, stubbornly turned his back on Roy, and jabbed his head under the pillow in an unspoken demand for him to leave.
After several stunned, shocked seconds, Roy did.
A/N: Ed's yelling is in German, stuff like no, stop, don't do this...
