Roy caught up to Edward as he was leaving the healers' wing- not that there was much the healers would have been able to do for Edward. He couldn't risk anyone seeing him with his clothes off, and healers had to work with direct skin contact.
Edward looked up, tired, still pulling his jacket back on as he limped along. "What the hell do you want?" he growled.
"Oh, hello, Elric," Roy said, as though it were an accident that he was here. "Good showing in the arena- although Red Lotus did kick you around a little, didn't he?"
Edward glared at him, eyes flicking to the clock at the end of the hall. "Did you have something you wanted to say? I have other places to be." Asshole, he didn't say, probably only because there were people listening.
"So do I," Roy said smiling. He turned to go. "By the way, Elric- you mentioned that you might need to do some research while you're in Central. I have a spare lab built into my basement you could use, at least until you can find your own space." Moon-rise was in less than an hour. With the time the duel had taken, Ed would never be able to find another place for Al to change safely, and they both knew it.
Edward stopped cold, his mouth working silently for a moment. "Why would you let me do that?" he got out, finally.
Roy shrugged. "It's no skin off my nose," he said. "I can work here if I need to. Do you think you'll be by the house this evening?"
Slowly, Edward nodded. "Yeah," he said. "I'll see you later."
"No need to go back to the hotel," Roy told him. "I've already let Hawkeye know; she's escorting Alphonse there now." Roy let a smug, self-satisfied grin show on his face. "Hopefully, you're tall enough to see over my lab benches."
Edward almost choked with the effort of not screaming at him. Finally, he turned and stalked down the hallway.
Roy watched Ed go, his smirk fading into a quiet frown.
Riza watched Alphonse carefully, not turning her back on him as he packed his clothes. He was usually a very pleasant young man- mild where his brother was abrasive; patient, intelligent. Riza had always rather liked him. This, however, was a different Alphonse. He was jittery and distractable, his eyes wild and his body language uncertain. Riza had watched him tear apart nearly five pounds of raw meat with his bare teeth. Riza had known that Alphonse was a werewolf since the moment she'd met him. Still, she wondered if this was the first time she'd truly understood it.
"Will Brother meet us there?" he asked suddenly, not looking at her face.
"Guardian Mustang will inform him. It may be some time, however. He indicated that their business might take some hours more." She didn't mention the assessment. She wasn't sure how Alphonse would react to the idea that his brother was in a fight. Edward would certainly have become unmanageable if the situations were reversed.
Alphonse nodded, still not meeting her eyes. "I'm packed," he said, quickly. "We can go if you want."
Riza nodded, careful not to make sudden moves, careful not to impinge on his space. "Do you need me to help carry anything?" she asked.
Alphonse shook his head. "I'm strong right now," he said. He hefted all three bags. It looked reasonable if you didn't know that the square case was packed with heavy iron manacles.
They went to the car, and Riza drove. Alphonse curled awkwardly in the passenger seat, as if not quite sure how to arrange himself, as if his body didn't quite fit. "What is the Emperor doing with Brother?" Al said, suddenly.
"Anything he wants," Riza said, a little flip. "I'm sorry," she added, ruefully. "But it's true. It's part of what being a Guardian means. On the one side- power and authority. On the other, submission."
"Brother's always been bad at that," Alphonse said, his voice uneasy.
They parked, and Alphonse carried the bags out of the car and into the house. There was something strange about his gait, Riza realized. It was too smooth, too fluid- as if he might break into a long, loping run at any moment. Alphonse turned his head to look at her, his yellow eyes sharp. "Where should I put these?" he asked.
"The hall will be fine," she told him.
He set down the bags and neatened them. As he stood, his hand caught on the handle of one of the cases, and pulled it askew. "Dammit," Alphonse swore, and straightened it again.
Riza stood back and let him do it. "Would you like to wait in the sitting room?" she offered.
Alphonse nodded, and followed her. He sat down on the couch that she offered, but he seemed to be having difficulty getting comfortable. "How much longer do you think he'll be?" he asked, suddenly, his voice tense.
"I couldn't say," Riza answered.
"The moon will be up soon," he said.
Riza wasn't sure what she should say to that.
"Lieutenant Hawkeye?" he asked, after a moment. "Are you afraid of me?" He tilted his head in her direction, his yellow eyes almost glowing in the dim light of the room.
That was an unexpected question. Riza considered her answer carefully. "I'm cautious of you," she said, finally. "I'm a bodyguard. I'm used to assessing people as threats, and you are certainly a threat."
Alphonse looked away. "That's true," he said. "You smell like you're afraid," he added, after a pause.
Ah. Of course; his sense of smell was sharpened. "This is an unusual situation," she told him. "I'm concerned for Guardian Mustang. And I'm understandably wary of you right now."
Alphonse flinched. "I would argue that I'm not a monster," he said, darkly, "But we both know that's not true."
A smile quirked up at the edges of her lips. "I work with the Guardians," she said. "I'm used to monsters."
Suddenly, almost faster than she could follow, he was across the room. One of his hands pinned her throat to the chair, and the other was clenched around the stuffed leather. His teeth were bared, sharp and white. "I'm not a joke," he growled. "Don't laugh at me."
Riza breathed, holding herself carefully still. "Alphonse," she said sternly, her heart thudding in her chest, "This is inappropriate."
There was a beat that lasted for one gasping breath, and then he collapsed in on himself, pulling away from her.
"I'm sorry," he said in a small voice. "I didn't mean it. I didn't mean it."
Riza's head felt light, adrenaline making everything sharp. He was just a child, she reminded herself. He was a scared teenager who was losing control of himself.
"I'll just go put away the luggage," she said, her voice tight.
Fuck it, Ed thought, looking at the traffic. With a flick of his hands and feet, he levitated into the air. Flying inside the city was frowned upon, but there had to be some perks to being one of the Emperor's dogs. With the uniform jacket still on, no one would say shit to him about anything.
Ed spread his arms, feeling the way they cut through the air. He didn't really like flying. It unsettled him a little, and the cold made his old wounds ache. Werewolf bites, both of them. The one on his left thigh, from the monster that had attacked him the night he'd had the hubris to try and bind Death. The one on his right shoulder, from Al- no, from the creature that possessed Al every full moon. Ed refused to consider them the same being. Al was human, dammit. He wasn't a monster.
Ed dropped lower as he spotted the street he was looking for. Mustang's house, when he found it, was a modest-looking house with a reasonably large yard. It looked well-cared-for in the way that meant Mustang probably paid someone to take care of it. Ed landed, and went to the door, suddenly uncertain as to whether he should knock, or what.
As he raised his hand to the knocker, the door opened. Lieutenant Hawkeye stood there. "Edward," she said, her face serious. "You should come in."
"Is he okay?" Ed asked, concerned. He could smell her worry, and Al, somewhere.
Hawkeye shut the door and locked it behind them. "He's upset," she said, shrugging. "He got frustrated waiting, and-" She paused for just a moment, as if considering her words. "-lost control a little. He didn't hurt me."
Ed didn't doubt that Al was upset. Al respected Lieutenant Hawkeye; he probably hadn't liked her seeing him today when he couldn't quite control the wolf. And for him to have lost control enough to attack Hawkeye...
Ed knew basically what to expect when Hawkeye led him to the sitting room. Al was curled up in a chair, his whole body hunched over and his eyes wild. He looked up as Ed entered the room, his lips pulling back to expose bright, sharp teeth. Ed could see the way he pulled away from Hawkeye- fear and anger and shame clear in his body language.
Ed turned to look at Hawkeye. "Go," he told her, more sharply than he really intended. He softened his voice. "Sorry. Make sure there's a clear space downstairs or something. But get out of here, okay?"
Hawkeye's eyebrow raised, but she said nothing. With a quick nod and a last glance at Al, she was gone.
With Hawkeye out of the room, Al relaxed marginally. "Hey, Al," Ed said, as he walked closer to the chair.
Al breathed out, a whining noise coming from low in his throat. "You're hurt, Brother," he said, not making eye contact. His muscles were taught, and Ed could see him shaking a little.
"It's nothing," Ed told him, firmly. He knelt down next to the chair, crowding into Al's space.
"What did he make you do?" Al asked, a note of panic in his voice. He jerked his head to the side, his teeth showing again.
"It's nothing," Ed repeated, leaning in so that his nose almost bumped against Al's cheek. Ed took in his brother's scent, knowing that Al was doing the same. "Just an assessment. I'm sorry I wasn't here. Lieutenant Hawkeye brought you food, though, right?"
Al nodded, his breath hot against Ed's face. Ed felt weird being this close to his little brother, but it usually calmed the wolf down, so he did it. "I wasn't very good company," Al said, finally.
Ed reached up and laid his hand firmly on the back of Al's neck. Al breathed, nosing Ed's face, and then finally relaxed. His body uncurled a little, his feet dropping onto the floor. "It's fine, Al," Ed told him, pulling away to a more comfortable distance. "She told me about it. You didn't hurt her. You kept control of yourself."
"I won't for much longer," Al said, his voice dark with dread.
Ed nodded. "C'mon," he said. "We better get you downstairs." He stood, putting his hands in his pockets. "I don't know why Mustang's letting us stay here. He probably just wants to cover his own ass."
"Brother," Al chided him, his voice a rough ghost of its usual self, "You're always so rude."
"Good thing I have you to keep me in line, then," Ed said, and made himself smile.