Author's Note: Okay, here we go. It took a little longer than I expected. Thanks, Linda, for the heads up on those 'wee errors'. And thanks, as always, to everyone who faved, followed, and especially reviewed. I appreciate the encouragement very much, you have no idea. That said, I think, after you read this, I might have to go into hiding for a while. *runs*
Answers
Objective evidence strongly suggested that winter was finally over.
From the library's high arched windows, Roy noted that at six p.m., the sun had not yet set. The days were definitely getting longer. Winter weary eyes cast hopefully about searching for hints that warmer days were on the way, and found them. Blue skys. Sunshine. In Central winding streams of melt water wore their way along slushy sidewalks to overburdened storm drains. Water gleamed on spikes of ice, dripping fangs trimming innocent eaves troughs. The days were still mainly cold, the nights frosty, but winter's unrelenting grip on the city was definitely loosening. Shifting winds now held the promise of spring.
Last year early spring had seen Roy preparing for his diplomatic mission to Aerugo. This year his efforts remained domestic. First and foremost on his agenda were his economic initiatives, and so far they appeared to be paying off in terms of higher rates of employment, but he knew better than to assume the job was done. The Führer had plenty of new ideas up his sleeve, and with the approach of milder weather more of his plans could go into effect, most of which revolved around public infrastructure. Roads and rails always required maintenance; that was a continuous process. Roy's plans, however, were for upgrades and extensions, and they included the underground tunnels hollowed out by Sloth.
Currently parts of the passageway were being used locally in areas that had direct access to them, mainly for storage. Extensive travel was not feasible because the network of tunnels was connected to the surface in very few places – Liore and Briggs to name two. The Führer intended to remedy that, and had a team of engineers, architects, and alchemists in place to come up with a workable action plan. Ideally, Roy hoped that someday the tunnels would become a nationwide subway system, connecting all major cities and points in between, protected from severe weather conditions such as the extreme winter storms most of northern Amestris had suffered this season. His committee shared his grand vision of transforming the underground transmutation circle into a state of the art transportation system, and had tendered a number of viable options with which to begin, all of which focussed on gaining access to the tunnels at points around the country. Baby steps, really, but they were a start. It wasn't going to happen overnight, but one day Roy knew his vision would become reality.
These backroom machinations were not what currently caught the average citizen's attention, however. At the forefront of public consciousness was the trial of Lady Bradley and her Purist followers, on the charge of high treason.
The attorneys for the defence had appealed to the court for a joint trial, and the judge had ruled in their favor. As overwhelming as the evidence against the Purists was, they had entered a plea of not guilty – by reason of extenuating circumstances. On their lawyers' advice, the Lady and her followers had opted for a trial by jury – a bold move her defence team had hoped would open the door to possible plea bargains in exchange for secrets about the Promised Day remaining secret. The prosecution refused to take the bait, however, and the tedious process of jury selection had begun. According to the head prosecutor, it appeared that the Lady intended to tell all, or at least the all that she was personally acquainted with, and her view definitely did not match the official version of that fateful day's events.
The public had been told most, but not all, of the truth about the Promised Day. One detail withheld was King Bradley's true nature. It was decided that the existence of the homunculi was best kept secret because the possibility of creating such beings was dangerous knowledge, and most alchemist couldn't resist diving head first into dangerous knowledge. The last thing Amestris needed was another dwarf in a flask. Therefore, Bradley had been cast as a perfectly normal human despot, duped by a master alchemist into believing that he was acting in the best interests of Amestris, and that Bradley had been assassinated when he had discovered Father's true goal. Führer-elect Grumman had told Bradley's widow the truth about her husband however, mainly because Selim's origin had to be revealed when she chose to be his guardian.
Roy had had grave misgivings about that decision. At the time his concern had little to do with the Lady revealing the truth to the general public. A fantastic story of artificial creatures with incredible power was difficult to believe even for those who had witnessed them, as, in the end, the Lady herself had not. No, Roy's concerns had more to do with her peace of mind. He had argued the she was as much a victim in the aftermath as her adopted son, and deserved the kindness that ignorance of her husband's inhuman nature might bring. Roy's argument had been overridden by Olivier Armstrong, who insisted that if Bradley's widow was going to be in charge of Selim, she should know the truth, since, though she may not have known it, she was an expert on successful human-homunculus relations and could put that expertise into practice with Selim should the need arise.
Roy was fairly certain that the Purists' defense would not include anything to do with Führer Bradley's intimate connection to Father. The details of the Purist's strategy would be revealed in court, but it was easy to speculate about what they might claim: that they were not traitors, because their actions had been a focused attempt to serve justice to an actual traitor.
Roy had some concerns about what Lady Bradley might have to say on the subject of the Promised Day. She had nothing to lose, and he suspected that she would do her damnedest to paint the deceased Führer in the most tragically heroic terms as possible while vilifying his foes. Their insurrection had not been part of the States official version of events, but without a doubt the Lady Bradley would remedy that, and accuse Generals Grumman and Armstrong, and indeed, Roy himself, of the crime she herself now stood accused, holding Führer Bradley up as a blameless victim.
That argument would prove more difficult to support than she might expect however. The simple fact that Father had emerged from a chamber hidden directly under Central Command was clear evidence that he had been protected by the high brass, selected and lead by Führer Bradley. Further evidence of his complicity was the constant state of war he had maintained over the years, like his predecessors before him. Too many veterans of those conflicts had come to realize that they were slaughtering innocents to no apparent purpose. Discovering that the true reason for their butchery was to advance the grand designs of an ambitious monster suddenly lent method to the madness, and to suggest that Führer Bradley had been completely in the dark with regard to Father's plans would be ludicrous.
The most damning argument against any case the Lady might make for her husband was the Promised Day itself. There was no possible way she could minimize what had happened to every single living soul in the country, herself included. Roy had suffered the ordeal of being forced to meet Truth against his will, of losing his sight through no fault of his own, but couldn't imagine the trauma of having his soul suck out of his body and consumed by a monster. Bradley's widow could deny his involvement until the day she died, but it wouldn't erase what the citizens of this country had experienced on the Promised Day, under Bradley's watch.
And as their leader, King Bradley had been held accountable for that and more by his people, even in death.
He had never been a popular Führer; quite the contrary. His brutal and tyrannical reign had been the personification of Wrath. War, oppression, and cruelty are no way to raise a country, and indeed, it was blatantly obvious that what was best for Amestris had never been his ultimate goal. The history books testified to the fact that his only defining contributions were military conquests, and establishing the State Alchemist program. His public policies were all about eliminating annoying little inconveniences like civil liberties and basic human rights. His grave in Central's National Cemetery frequently required maintenance due to vandalism. Bradley's widow would have an exceedingly difficult time generating public sympathy for the circumstances of his passing.
Selim was another matter, however.
The Bradley family's confinement on their estate since the Promised Day had been a point of conjecture on and off for years. The previous summer had seen a vicious media battle waged between the Lady and the Führer's office around her denied request to take her son on holiday to Aerugo. At the time, public sympathy had been firmly behind Bradley, but the Führer was in no position to back down. Pride had been the most powerful of Father's creations, and the most dangerous. Even though there had been no sign of its presence in the years since Father's defeat, everyone involved felt it was still too soon to be sure. Pride had been centuries old. It was easy to imagine it biding its time, waiting for its enemies to lower their defenses.
That justification wasn't fit for public consumption however. Many knew that something terrible had happened to Selim on the Promised Day. Few knew exactly what, or the circumstances. At the time, Führer-elect Grumman had used slow recovery from serious injury as explanation for keeping him isolated. Now threats from vengeful victims of his adopted father were the official reason. Widow Bradley would likely attempt to turn that to her advantage, suggesting the only people nursing hard feelings, and taking them out on an innocent child, was the current government, specifically, Führer Mustang. She was sure to argue her case from the standpoint of a beleaguered mother doing everything and anything possible to protect her child from criminal persecution.
The State's prosecution team were having some difficulty preparing to refute that argument. They had plenty of evidence that both adopted mother and son had been sequestered for their own protection, in a personal residence that afforded them every amenity. In fact, their living conditions far surpassed those of the average Amestrian, particularly given the current economic climate. A gilded cage was still a cage, however, and no substitute for personal freedom. Roy suspected that the prosecutors would have to do some fancy dancing to spin a good explanation for this infringement of personal freedom. He honestly didn't think they could, particularly since, in the midst of all this, an Aerugoan merchant marine had contacted a national newspaper, stating that he had been involved in a scheme to smuggle the Lady and Selim away from their planned seaside vacation in Aerugo, a plan thwarted by the Führer's refusal to back down to public pressure.
The trial was sure to be a long, drawn out spectacle for months to come.
Protected from the sensation of Lady Bradley's high profile trial, and kept carefully out of the spotlight, Selim at least appeared to be coming to terms with the absence of his mother. After two months under Alex Armstrong's gentle protection, he seemed to have finally accepted that his mother was gone from his life. At first he had asked for her every day, and each time Alex had had to gently explain that she would not return. Then the boy had suffered frequent fits of extreme anger, screaming his anguish at the world, accusing Alex of taking his mother away. More recently, the child had become badly depressed, often seeking reassurance from his guardian that he was not a bad boy, and his mother had not left because of anything that Selim had done. Alex latest report stated that the child was still prone to melancholy, but seemed to be improving, at times venturing outside to play in the lingering snow. He deemed that a good sign, news which Roy was pleased to receive. He held no grudge against Pride's innocent vessel, and Selim had suffered too much.
All in all, it had been a busy winter, and promised to be a busy spring. However, the trial and his transportation plan were both under control and in capable hands other than Führer Mustang's. As a result, all was otherwise quiet. That left Roy the time he needed to finally get to the bottom of a state of affairs that had been bothering him for nearly a year: the rift between the Elric Brothers.
Al's continuing, thinly veiled hints that Ed needed someone to talk to, and that Alphonse was no longer in a position of trust on that score, had actually been irritating Roy's curious nature ever since the first letter he had received from the young man over two years ago. Ling Yao had advised Roy to gain Edward's trust and find out what had happened from Edward himself – good advice, as far as Roy was concerned. Roy believed that he had gained that trust, and was ready for some answers. Still, it wouldn't hurt to hedge his bets. He needed Edward just a little off his guard.
Roy's plan was simple, and tonight he would put it into action.
Edward was due back from a week in North City, where he had been looking into something for Heymans Breda. Roy had received a phone call from Edward earlier that day, stating that he would be in Central by early afternoon, and he had accepted Roy's invitation to dinner at the Führer's residence.
Dinner had been arranged: tender prime rib and seasoned roast potatoes with a sweet kunafa for dessert, all lovingly prepared by Isa.
The two bottles of Shaoxing wine, given to Roy by Emperor Ling Yao when he had visited the Führer in his home last summer, were still unopened on elegant display in Roy's liquor cabinet, and he planned to make full use of them. Roy's master plan was to get Edward relaxed enough to lower his stubborn defences and loosen his tongue. It seemed fitting that Ed's royal friend should supply the lubricant.
Now all he needed was Edward.
Movement caught the Führer's eye and called him back from his thoughts. Looking down from his post at the library's windows, he was pleased to see his roadster pulling around the circular driveway to stop at the front steps. This was it. Elated, he hurried downstairs, reaching the foyer in time to see Winston taking Edward's jacket.
And then Edward looked up and greeted Roy with that special smile, melting his heart to a pool of warmth glowing in his chest. Edward met him at the stairs, curling his fist in Roy's collar to pull in for a quick, fierce kiss, blond hair scented with spring rain.
"Missed you," the younger man said, voice rough, and Roy purred content.
"Come on," Roy said, leading the way. "Dinner awaits."
Edward followed, grinning.
Dinner was a hit. Edward outlined his rather low key mission, which did not require the use of any of the tricks hidden in his sister-in-law's finely crafted prosthetic. Roy regaled him with tales of the daily business of government from the Führer's point of view. When dessert was served, Roy put the next part of his plan into action.
Usually, after a week apart, dinner was the prelude to a night in the bedroom that in no way included sleeping, or much time for serious conversation. Tonight, however, Roy wanted a different kind of intimacy.
As the two men finished dessert, Winston arrived at Roy's elbow with a small tray bearing the exquisite porcelain Shaoxing decanters and two matching cups. Edward lifted an enquiring eyebrow.
Roy answered it. "I've been starved for conversation that has nothing to do with matters of state, lately."
"Have you ever had Shaoxing wine before?" Edward asked.
"No," Roy said, "This was given to me as a gift, by Emperor Ling Yao."
Edward nodded. "His private stock. I should warn you that it's very potent," he cautioned with a smile. "If you expect to hold your own in an intelligent conversation, I'd take it easy."
The two men left cleanup to Winston and retired to the living room. Roy settled into his favorite chair by the fireplace; Edward took a seat in the chair next to him, leaning back with a contented smile. Roy placed the two cups on the small end table between their armchairs, then broke the red seal on one bottle and filled each cup.
Edward reached for one and took a sip. "Yeah. The good stuff," he said.
Roy took a sip as well.
The wine was slightly oily on his tongue, with a sweet, almost nutty flavour. Roy took another sip, and another, savoring the taste, quite different from his usual choice in liquor. He noted that it was smooth, and quite strong. Draining the cup, he judged from the immediate effects that the alcohol content was roughly equivalent to a similar serving of bourbon. Edward was watching him with some curiosity.
"I like it," Roy decided. He poured himself another, and topped up Edward's cup as well. "Ling's private stock you say?"
Edward nodded, and continued to sip.
"He has good taste. Is this wine usually served with food, or . . ." Roy left it open-ended.
"With food or alone, warm or over ice, either way is fine," Edward said. "We used to sit around with a few friends, drinking, playing cards or mah-jong, shooting the shit." His cup was empty, so Roy refilled it. "I learned Xingese drunk off my ass." Edward's grin was infectious.
"I can remember many an evening spent with Maes in much the same way," Roy said, with a twinge of loss. "At the academy. And . . . in Ishbal. Later, in Central."
"And now?" Edward asked, looking into his cup.
Roy didn't mind a little give and take. "Now, I spend most of my personal time with you. Sometimes I get together with Hawkeye, Havoc, and Breda. Have a few drinks, play cards."
Edward hummed, and helped himself to more wine.
Roy had been pacing himself, so he'd had only had two cups of the wine. He was definitely feeling a warm, comfortable buzz, however, which made him suspect that he had underestimated the potency. Since Edward had had twice as much, his inhibitions were probably waving him a fond farewell, which was exactly what Roy wanted. It was time.
And Edward very considerately played right into his hands.
"So, was there something you wanted to talk about?" the younger man wanted to know.
"Actually, yes," Roy said, all nonchalance. "I'm sure you know that Alphonse and I correspond on a regular basis." Edward nodded, suddenly on his guard. "Are you aware that he is worried about you?"
Edward huffed out a breath. "No. What's he worried about?"
"He is worried because you and he are no longer close, and he doesn't want you to be alone."
"What the hell? I'm not alone," Edward defended. "I have lots of friends. All over the world."
"Friends close enough to talk to when you need to get something off your chest?"
"Sure!" Edward was quick to answer, but quickly backtracked. "Not that I have anything I need to talk about."
"Oh good," Roy said. "Who?"
"Who?"
"Yes, who?"
Edward thought about that for a moment. "Ling. Izumi. And, I guess, you."
"But not Alphonse."
"Alphonse. Yeah, Alphonse too, of course." Edward said, but not with any real conviction. "But he shouldn't have to listen to me bitching. Not that I have anything to bitch about," he added hastily. "He's got a family now."
"And you are part of it," Roy amended.
Ed scrubbed his face with both hands, then reached again for his cup. "I really don't want to talk about this," he said plaintively. "Can't we talk about something else?"
No, they couldn't, but Roy didn't mind getting his answers through the back door if necessary. "Of course we can," he said magnanimously. "What did you have in mind?"
"What about you?" was Edward's suggestion. "You know just about everything about me, and aside from the fact that you're a bastard, I know next to nothing about you."
"Fair enough," Roy immediately conceded. After all, he had nothing to hide from this man who had seen the worst part of him. "I was born in New Optain on May 31st, 1885. My father was a Major in the 5th Cavalry Regiment under Lieutenant Colonel George Henry Thomas."
"The Black Knights?"
"I'm surprised you know of them," Roy said, and Edward shrugged, waiting. "My mother was the youngest daughter of a Xingese herbalist. My parents met when my father's commanding officer sent him to fetch a hangover remedy from her family's shop. I'm told it was love at first sight."
Edward smiled, but made no comment, so Roy continued.
"My mother's family was completely against her marriage to an Amestrian, and disowned her. My father's family at the time consisted of his sister, Chris, and his elderly grandmother, who had raised him and his sister when their parents died. She passed away before I was born.
"My parents were killed on May 29th, 1889. They had gone to the theater. There was a fire. They did not make it out." Roy glanced to catch Edward's sympathetic gaze. "The neighbour I had been spending the night with was a good friend. Instead of sending me to the local orphanage, she elected to take responsibility for me, and looked after me until Aunt Chris came from Central to get me."
"I've heard that a lot of orphanages are no place for children," the other orphan in the room commented.
Roy nodded. "I don't remember much about my life before Aunt Chris," he continued. "I grew up in a brothel, which was, of course, a unique experience. At first I had no idea what was going on around me. Chris made sure of that. She walked me to school in the morning with my lunchbox and pencil case, picked me up afterward. I had plenty of sisters to help me with my homework." Roy grinned at the memory. "I learned from my classmates about the business in which Aunt Chris was engaged. Needless to say, I learned how to fight soon after."
"Assholes get their training early, usually at home," Edward observed.
Roy agreed. "When I got older, I tended bar for Madam Christmas. I learned far more than the proper way to mix a martini. There is no better place to learn about the human condition than from behind the bar in a brothel."
"Traveling the country hunting for a legend makes for a pretty good education in that area, too," Edward remarked. "I bet you got hit on a lot."
"You'd win that bet," Roy admitted. "The Madam made it clear that I was not for sale. There was one woman, however, who kept trying. I was twelve. She wanted to be my first."
"And was she?"
"No. My Aunt didn't want my first time to generate income. Plus, I think she was afraid I'd decide to take up that profession, and she had bigger things in mind for me."
"Yeah," Ed grinned impishly. "Like learning to set shit on fire, and taking over the world."
"Both of which I have managed to do with great success, thank you very much." Roy's smirk was annoyingly self satisfied.
Edward was refilling his cup. "I was twelve when I got my State certification," he said thoughtfully. "Thanks to you."
"Yes. At the time, I suppose I was the biggest asshole you'd ever met." Roy said wryly.
"No. I was. You were just a total waste of attractive skin."
Roy raised an eyebrow at that. Had his very young subordinate had a crush on his commander? "Why thank you, Edward. I find your skin attractive these days as well." He picked up the bottle of wine to discover it was nearly empty, so he drained it into his glass and opened the second one. Then he glanced at Edward.
Even in the dim light cast by the low burning fire, it was easy to see that Edward's features were flushed. His eyes were half lidded, and when he glanced Roy's way, were glassy and somewhat unfocused. It was time to do a little fishing.
"All of Central was my playground when I was a kid," he said. "I suppose growing up in the country was a totally different experience."
"I guess," Edward said. "Less people, open spaces. We went to school in town, but my mom taught me an' Al to read and write way before that. We had a lot of books." He smiled. "The Rockbells were our closest neighbour. Winry was my, our, best friend. We spent so much time together that a lot of our neighbours predicted that one of us would end up marrying her. Accurately, as it turned out."
"There was a standing bet in the office about you and Miss Rockbell," Roy confided. "Wagers were placed on how long it would take you to marry her. As I recall, Vato Falman won a substantial sum. His money was always on Alphonse."
Edward grinned. "Smart man, that Falman." His bleary gaze became distant. "I actually did propose to Winry. Just before I left for the West."
Roy propped his head lazily against a palm, eyes deceptively sleepy. "She turned you down," he guessed.
Ed shook his head. "Alphonse had left for the East a few days before. Me an' Winry were on the Resembool platform, waiting for the westbound train. She was going on about automail maintenance, as usual." Ed's groggy eyes found Roy's and then drifted away. "She always does that when she's feeling sad, you know? Focuses on something . . . concrete . . . to keep her mind off what's bothering her. . ." Ed drifted off, lost in thought.
Roy held his breath. This might be leading to the answers he was looking for.
Edward sighed. "The train showed up, and I started thinking about the trip, and how long I'd be gone, and . . . and . . . mostly about . . . being alone. And I realized that whatever happened, Winry would always be there for me. Because she always has been. She gave me a strong leg so I could stand up and move forward; she gave me a strong arm to fight with. She made it possible for me to do what I had to do, to make things right for Al." His smile was small, but fond.
"So I'm getting on the train, and she's telling me that if the leg needs maintenance, I should call and make an appointment, and I kind of . . . snapped." Ed's fond smile grew larger. "I proposed an equivalent exchange – half her life for half of mine."
Roy couldn't maintain his casual facade. "And she said . . .?"
Ed's face split into a full-on grin. "She said that alchemists were idiots, equivalent exchange was a load of crap, and never mind half of her life; she would give me all of it."
Roy felt his jaw drop. He blamed it on the alcohol. "She accepted?" he said, incredulous.
Edward shot his drinking partner an alcohol muted death glare. "Yes, Mustang. She accepted." He huffed, a disgruntled hum, and reached an unsteady hand to refill his glass, impressing Roy by managing to do so without spilling a drop.
"So . . . why aren't you married?" Roy asked.
Ed shot him a frown and tossed back the full contents of his glass. "The train wasn't five minutes out of Resembool before I realized I'd made a big mistake. I mean, think about it. Me, married? Settling down, staying in one place? I'm too much like my old man. I'd have been off roaming the world and any kids we managed to produce, Winry would have ended up raising alone. That wouldn't have been fair – Winry deserved better. An' kids need a dad that's there for them full time. I would have been a shitty husband, and an even shittier dad."
"That's not necessarily true," Roy said. "You have a highly developed sense of responsibility. You're not Hohenheim."
"Bullshit," Ed called. "And anyway, who the hell proposes on a train platform just before they take off indefinitely? Not someone who plans to make a serious commitment to forever and always. I wasn't even sure who I was anymore, and before I could think about committing to someone, I had to figure that out."
"So why did you do it?" Roy wanted to know.
"I was a real mess at the time." Edward lifted a wavering hand to rub his eyes. "It was a stupid fucking impulse, and I guess I never learn. I proposed to her for all the wrong reasons: I was feeling lonely; I was feeling worthless, mostly because I still missed my alchemy; I had no idea where my life was going; Al had taken off to Xing the day before. Without me. And I already missed him. And . . . I was going to miss Winry, too. I really just wanted her to know how much I loved her. And I do love her. As my best friend. My sister. Not a lover. Not a wife."
"You're smarter than I am," Roy muttered. "Took me six months to figure that out with Hawkeye. What a disaster that was."
Edward croaked a low laugh. "Yeah, Al told me you guys were an item for a while," he said. "He didn't seem too surprised that it didn't last."
"Alphonse has always impressed me as a man of great intelligence; his understanding of human nature is particularly impressive," Roy noted. "He really should consider writing an advice column for the Central Times."
"He doesn't have any spare time between his wife and kids, his alchemy, and taking pictures of anything that moves." Edward tipped his head back and smiled at the ceiling. "But he'd be good at it. He'd be good at anything." Ed's total conviction about the truth of that statement made Roy smile too.
A few minutes were spent in comfortable contemplation, broken only when Edward reached for the porcelain decanter once again. If he kept up this pace, he would soon be incoherent, and Roy would have missed his chance to finally get answers to his questions. Though Roy was admittedly more that just tipsy himself, he had kept his consumption to a manageable level; Ed on the other hand was certifiably drunk. Right now the young man was at his most vulnerable: his barriers were down, his defenses off line; he was pleasantly trusting and pliant but still capable of reasonably articulate speech. Roy had to gently press on.
Splayed boneless in his armchair, Roy closed his eyes and asked, all nonchalance, "So what'd Winry say when you finally told her you weren't going to marry her?"
"I kinda didn't get the chance," Edward confided, voice low, and Roy cracked an eyelid to find the blond toying with the rim of his empty glass. "I spent almost two years out west, roaming around Creta and southern Drachma, exploring the island countries in the Western Sea. The whole time I worried about how I was going to tell Winry that I'd made a mistake, because I had to. There was no way I was going to go through with it. She deserved someone to share her life who would stay by her side, put her and their family first. Someone like Al."
Edward fell silent again, eyeing the ornate bottle on the coffee table, and Roy moved the rice wine out of his reach on the pretext of refilling his own glass, though he didn't drink. He had a feeling that he was getting close to the root of this problem, and had to proceed carefully lest Edward get the sense that he was being interrogated.
The silence stretched, and Roy was weighing strategies he might use to gently probe without appearing to probe, when younger man finally continued.
"I sent her maybe two letters the whole time I was gone, more proof that proposing to Winry was a mistake," Ed muttered. "I mean, don't people in love want to be together more than anything? Don't they call and write and think about each other all the time, and rush back to each other as soon as they can?" Edward's eyes swung to Roy for his short nod of confirmation. "I thought about Winry, though. A lot. About how I was going to make her cry again. About how I'm really good at that, even though I try not to be. On my way back I rehearsed what I was going to say over and over, and I still didn't know how to say it. When the train finally got to Resembool, I almost didn't get off. I thought I was about to lose my best friend. Automail surgery was less painful."
The young man fell silent again, and Roy only just refrained from growling in frustration. This was a lot like pulling teeth: hard work and painful. The older man considered just giving up and letting it lie, but he'd come too far down this road to give up now. And much like pulling a bad tooth, though initially painful, talking this out of his system would be good for Edward as well. Since Alphonse had no idea how to help his brother, it was very likely that this wound had been left to fester for too long. It needed to be exposed to open air to properly heal.
Roy threw subtlety to the wind. "What happened when you finally got to the Rockbell house?" he asked.
Edward smiled at the ceiling. "When I got there, Alphonse was home too. He'd been back for a few months. I guess I don't have to tell you how happy I was to see him. Don't get me wrong; I was happy to see Winry and Pinako too, but with my stupid mistake standing between us, it kind of put a damper on the reunion. Winry seemed really nervous, and I found out why at dinner – when Alphonse announced that he and Winry were engaged."
The Führer's jaw dropped as his brows shot up. "What?" He must have heard it wrong. It just wasn't possible for Alphonse or Winry to betray Edward that way.
He must have found Roy's expression amusing, because Edward's smile warped up even further. "Yeah, you heard right, Mustang. Al had proposed to Winry the day he got back from the East, and she'd accepted. They hadn't made it public yet because they were waiting for me to get home. He wanted me to be the first to know."
Roy was at a loss for words. "Did you . . . what did you say, about . . ."
"About what? Proposing to Winry myself? Have you been listening? I was happy for them! Al had been in love with Winry for years. She loved him too. It was perfect." Ed frowned. "Well, almost perfect. Once again, I had managed to stain what should have been a perfect happy ending. Winry should have been happily planning her wedding and her future with the man she loved. Instead, she was worrying about me." Edward's lip curled in self disgust.
"After dinner I invited my future sister-in-law to take a walk with me. I don't know how Al missed the tension between us. Granny sure didn't. She was watching us like a hawk as we walked out the door." Edward sighed. "The first thing Winry told me was that she was sorry, which I already knew. Then she told me that Alphonse didn't know about my proposal, which I also already knew. No way Al would have asked her to marry him if he knew I asked her first and she'd accepted. Then she rushed on to explain how it wouldn't have worked out between us, which I already knew, too. She begged me not to tell Al, but she didn't have to. No way was I going to spoil this for him, like I already spoiled it for Winry."
Ed eyed his empty glass and then looked for the bottle, out of reach by Roy's hand. Roy obligingly filled the younger man's glass half way and once again placed the Shaoxing out of reach. Edward downed the rice wine and leaned back, eyes closed.
The young man continued without prompting. "I told her about my own change of heart, and that she was right, that marrying me would have been a big mistake. I convinced her that there were no hard feelings. My biggest regret now is that to this day she believes that she hurt me. Even though I told her that I changed my mind too, she doesn't really believe me. She thinks I only said that to be noble."
Edward was quiet after that, staring into the space between the mantelpiece and the ceiling. Roy searched for the words to keep this narrative ball rolling.
"It must have taken a great deal of courage for her to do what she did," he tried, because it was true. It's a daunting challenge indeed to correct a mistake when you are sure to hurt someone you love by doing so.
"Winry was always the strongest of us all."
Roy waited, hoping that Edward wasn't about to let the matter drop. Unless his instincts were completely off, there was still a lot more to be told, and Roy intended to hear it all.
"I suppose it must have been hard for you to keep such a huge secret from you brother," Roy ventured, very careful to keep his tone neutral. "Even harder for Winry, I suppose."
Edward grimaced. "You don't know the half of it," he said. Then his scowl faded into a misty smile. "The wedding was beautiful."
Roy agreed. He had been there. Both bride and groom had been radiantly happy; so too had the best man, standing proudly at his brother's side. Roy had been profoundly moved to witness the Resembool trio's joy that day knowing all they had gone through to achieve it, and the Flame hadn't been the only one affected. Roy still teased Vato Falman from time to time about the tears the usually stoic man had shed during the ceremony.
"Everything was great. Maes was born. Sara was born." Edward's bleary eyes were distant. "The move to Rush Valley was necessary if Winry was going to complete her training and get the recognition she deserved. Al was all for it. I gave them a hand with the move, but mostly I was on the road. The world is always calling to me." The last was said quietly, almost to himself.
"Then Mei Chang showed up." Edward's scowl was back. "She must have known that Al was married. Ling would have been sure to tell her. Didn't matter, I guess. She told Al she had run away to avoid the marriage her clan had arranged for her. Gave him a sob story, and he and Winry took her in."
Roy recalled the Emperor's account of his countrywoman's obsessive feelings for Alphonse, and how she had returned to Xing around the same time that Edward had arrived. His heart rate tuned up a notch, feeling his answers close at hand.
"Rumors started spreading around Rush Valley," Edward continued. "I was away most of the time, but when I was in town I couldn't miss the talk. That I was Winry's guy on the side, messing with my brother's wife. That it was obvious to anyone with eyes that Maes was really my son." Ed turned bleary, outraged eyes to Roy. "I had been in Drachma for six months when Al finally got in touch to tell me Winry was three months pregnant. Maes was born a month before I made it back to Resembool." His eyes blazed with fury. "People can be such total assholes."
Roy grunted in commiseration.
"Winry got a really hard time from a lot of people, but she just shrugged it off." Edward was still angry. "Al set a few of the really nasty assholes straight, and Paninya and Garfield, old Domenic and his family, they stuck up for her, and that turned most folks around. Winry's a fantastic automail mechanic, too, so the business didn't suffer, but when her apprenticeship was nearly done, she and Al started to talk about heading back to Resembool to catch a little peace."
Roy had wondered why the Elrics had decided to leave an established and thriving practice in Rush Valley for the quiet of the rural out country. He had assumed they had done it for their children, and in a way he supposed they had. As they got older and better able to understand the sideways glances and overheard whispers, Maes and Sara would eventually have been sucked into the rumor mill. It made more sense now.
"I know it was Mei who started those rumors." Edward's lip curled. "She was hoping to turn Al against Winry." He snorted. "Al just didn't see it, though. I don't think he wanted to believe his friend was capable of doing something so low down. Every time I brought it up, he had a thousand reasons why I was wrong about her. And then . . ."
Edward looked at Roy, making the decision. Should he go on, or not? Roy retuned that level gaze, hoping he had earned the trust he so dearly wanted.
Edward took a deep breath, letting it out slowly. "It was late afternoon. Winry and I were in the kitchen, getting supper ready. The kids had gone out with Al and Garfield, to the park down the lane. There were swings there, and a slide, and a little merry-go-round . . ."
Roy waited for the blond man to organize his thoughts. His patience was rewarded.
"We thought we were alone in the house, just shooting the breeze, you know?" Edward scrubbed at one hazy eye. "Sitting there, all domestic and shit, and Winry said, 'Do you ever wonder?' And I knew what she was talking about. Us. Did I ever wonder what it would have been like if we had actually gone through with it, if it was me and her, married, instead of her and Al."
"So I told her that there were times that I did wonder, and every time I realized all over again how smart she was to reject me. That when I proposed to her it was the stupidest thing I had ever done, not because I didn't love her, but because I didn't love her like Al did. I told her that I was proud of her for doing what she had to do even though it must have been painful, and if she ever had any doubts, to look at Maes and Sara. They were living proof that she had done the right thing."
Roy realized he was holding his breath, and let it out slowly. He still didn't know where this was going, but hoped he was about to find out.
Edward went on. "Then Winry let out this little gasp. At first I thought it was because of what I'd just said. Then I noticed that she was staring over my shoulder, kind of pale. She looked at me like she'd just seen a ghost, and said, 'Mei'.
"I turned around just in time to see that miserable little asshole running down the hall and out the front door. Me and Winry, we just sat there, waiting. We knew where she was going. She was going to Al, to tell him what she'd just heard. Shit." Edward looked up to meet Roy's eyes.
Roy returned his gaze with some sympathy. He finally saw there this whole mess was going.
"Al stormed into the kitchen not five minutes later, Mei smirking on his heels. As soon as I saw that Maes and Sara weren't with him, I knew it was going to be bad. He'd left them with Garfield." Edward was staring into the fire. "He just stood there for a moment, looking at me like . . . like . . . he hated me. And then he said, 'Is it true?'." Edward closed his eyes. "I couldn't even say it. I just nodded my head, yes."
Roy watched as Edward clasped his hands tightly in his lap, and said nothing.
"Al lost it. Totally." Edward was pale, the memory of his brother's anger still painful. "He wanted to how I could do something so selfish, when I didn't love Winry that way, and especially since I knew he did."
Roy said nothing, hoping that all the poison would just spill out, for good and all.
"He told me that he couldn't believe I would do something like that, when I knew how badly it would hurt him." Edward's eyes were still closed. "He said he wondered if I hated him, because I certainly couldn't love him. He wanted to know if it was because I gave up alchemy for him; did I regret it? Did I resent his happiness because I was unhappy, and wanted to take something important from him, too?"
"Winry tried to defend me, but Al was just . . ." The blond man leaned his head back to stare at the ceiling. "Al is always so, I don't know, sensible, you know?" He glanced at Roy, who nodded. "It takes a lot to piss him off, and a hell of a lot more to tip him into the red zone."
Roy knew that was the truth. In fact, he couldn't think of a single time when he had seen Alphonse actually lose his temper. Angry, yes, but through all the trials and troubles he and his brother had endured, never once had Roy heard of the younger Elric totally losing control.
"And then he said . . ." Edward shut his eyes again, as if to hide himself in the darkness, "'What were you trying to do? Ruin my life . . . again?'" Edward fell silent, eyes still closed. Saddened and subdued, he sat quietly, the memory of angry words echoing in his thoughts.
"I realized something really important, right there." The blond man took a deep breath and opened his eyes, looking for his wine. "I ruined his life once, and was just lucky enough to fix it. Then I almost ruined it again, selfishly proposing to the woman he loved and wanted to marry. If Winry hadn't been strong enough to do the right thing, the smart thing, I'd have destroyed their happiness before it even got started; no happy family; no Maes; no Sara. Just me and Winry trapped in a loveless marriage, and Alphonse all alone, wishing he could have what I resented.
"I'm bad news, just because I. Don't. Fucking. Think."
Roy kept his mouth firmly shut on the fact that Edward had had no intention of actually marrying Winry. He knew all too well that simply by proposing, he had put his brother's happiness in jeopardy. Winry had, indeed, done the smart thing by keeping Ed's proposal, and even more importantly, her acceptance, a secret from Alphonse. If Alphonse had known, it was very unlikely that he would have asked for Winry's hand when Edward rescinded his proposal. He would have thought himself her second choice and would have doubted her commitment to him.
Al had had every right to be angry. Edward's impulsive proposal and Winry's just as impulsive acceptance had very nearly cost them all their happily ever after. Still, Roy couldn't help but wonder what had prompted Winry to accept Edward's proposal in the first place. Clearly Alphonse was her first choice; she had accepted his proposal even though she was already engaged. And how could Alphonse be so sure that Edward didn't love her as much as he did?
"We told him everything." Edward continued, subdued, bleary eyes downcast. "Then I left. At the time, all I wanted to do was get away. It was best that I leave, for me, and for them. "
"I wonder," Roy said quietly. "I think most of what Alphonse said was said in anger. I doubt his intention was to drive you away, and he definitely regrets it, particularly the loss of your close bond."
"Yeah, he actually apologized, when I came back," Ed said with a grimace. "To me, when I caused the problem." He shook his head. "The only good part about the whole, stinking mess was that Al finally saw Mei's true colours. I heard he confronted her about all the trash talk going around town, and about trying to break up his family. Don't know how she responded, but he ended up telling her to leave." Edward picked up his cup and stared into it for a moment before draining it. "So yeah. I still think I made the right call."
"I don't," Roy said without thinking.
Ed looked up. "I did. Look, Al was pissed at me for proposing to Winry in the first place, but she admitted that she accepted my proposal. No more secrets, she said. And that hurt him, too. With me out of the way, they had a chance to work it out. And they did. They're fine. And so am I."
Roy just hummed an ambiguous hum. They weren't fine, actually. It was obvious that Edward was still uncomfortable enough to be keeping his distance from his brother. It seemed to be getting better, however. Time would hopefully continue to heal their rift. And Roy would do his best to help.
And then Roy's thrice damned curiosity forced him to quietly ask, "How could Alphonse be so sure that you didn't love Winry just as much as he did?"
"Because he knew . . ." Edward's half-lidded eyes snapped wide open, and his mouth snapped shut, suddenly remembering where he was, and with whom. He shot a hazy eyed, indecipherable look at his drinking partner, and did not continue.
But pieces of this puzzle were falling into place, so Roy finished Edward's sentence for him. "Because he knew that you loved someone else."
Edward's jaw was clamped tightly closed, but the slight widening of his eyes confirmed that Roy was sniffing down the right trail, and the older man was just drunk enough himself for the buffer between his thoughts and his mouth to be offline. "It's me, isn't it. You're in love with me."
Edward's face confirmed the older man's hypothesis. It was a study in horror that Roy found particularly comical, and was to blame for the worst possible response he could have made.
He laughed.
It was just a small, amused chuckle, not because of what he had discovered, but because of Ed's reaction to the discovery, the wine definitely playing a part. The effect was devastating nevertheless.
"Yeah, I know. Crazy, right?" Edward said, voice uneven, expression resigned.
Roy sat still, damning his stupid mouth. "Ed, no," he said, as earnestly as his tipsy state would allow. "I didn't mean . . . I wasn't laughing because . . . it's not funny that you . . ."
"Sure it is." Ed spoke calmly, standing up a bit unsteadily.
The ill-disguised hurt in Edward's eyes resonated in Roy's chest. "You're leaving?"
"Just going to bed." Edward shrugged. "I think I've had too much to drink. Would it be asking too much for you to just . . . forget it?"
"I don't think I can," Roy said slowly.
"It's no big deal," Edward assured him quietly. "Just a . . . crazy obsession. A crush. I'll get over it, and then we can both have a good laugh about it."
Roy didn't feel like laughing. He felt like kicking himself in the ass. "Ed. I don't know what to say, except that I'm sorry."
"For what?" Ed asked mildly. "You don't owe me a thing."
Roy watched as Edward walked out of the room, silent, and he remained as he was for quite a few minutes, trying to get over his shock. Then he stood to follow Edward to the bedroom, but head spinning with alcohol and the answers to so many long-asked questions, he simply couldn't move. Standing by the fireplace, steadying hand on the mantle, he worked to pull himself together, thoughts circling around and around.
That damned, unpredictable brat! How could he have hidden his secret from Roy for so long? And why hide it at all?
But the answer was obvious.
Because Roy's response had confirmed what Edward knew all along: that Roy did not return his feelings.
Roy could only imagine the humiliation the younger man must have felt to have his secret discovered, and then to have the reasons he had kept it validated by a misconstrued chuckle. An apology was all Roy could offer, however. He couldn't, wouldn't lie. Not to Edward. Not about this. He wasn't in love. All he could do now was hope that he hadn't done irreparable damage to their friendship with his thoughtless prying.
Why couldn't he have left well enough alone?
But Roy wasn't the only manipulative bastard to blame. Alphonse had been well aware of Edward's secret, and he had practically thrown them together, likely hoping that Roy might discover deeper feelings as well. No doubt his brother's happiness was Alphonse' motivation; nevertheless, he was just as much at fault for the hurt Edward suffered tonight. The younger Elric would be receiving an irate telephone call in the very near future, outlining exactly how incensed the Führer was with his thoughtless meddling.
The lamp lit Roy's side of the bed, left on so he wouldn't have to stumble around in the dark. He padded over to the far side where Edward lay curled. The blond man's breathing was deep and even, and Roy thought his lover had already fallen asleep. Not surprising, considering how much he'd had to drink.
Then Edward's eyes slit open, slivers of molten gold in the dimly lit room. He reached to stroke a finger over the back of Roy's hand before giving it a firm squeeze. Then he slowly slid a palm up Roy's forearm, warm skin against skin.
And Roy . . . didn't know what to think. As Edward's hand curled into his loosened collar to pull him down, Roy didn't know what to feel. When their lips met, Roy's breath caught painfully in his chest. When the kiss was broken and gleaming amber eyes burned close and a hot, when a tongue flicked out to taste, when lips feathered touches along his jaw, Roy felt lost.
"I know you don't believe me, but I really wasn't laughing at you," he said quietly, tone as level as he could make it, "It was just, you looked so horrified that I had guessed your secret and-"
"Shh," Edward's breath was hot against his throat. "It's okay. Don't worry."
The tongue licked out again, slower this time, over his throat and down, teeth nipping at his collar bone, then lower. Buttons slipped through their buttonholes and Roy . . . probably shouldn't feel as good as he did. Edward's light touch was comforting as it moved over his skin. Then Edward pulled away, and Roy told himself he wasn't disappointed. A soft click, and the bedside lamp was off.
"Roy," Edward said quietly in the dark, "Believe me. Nothing's changed."
"I believe you," Roy said, struggling to make true. "I believe you."
And he did, actually. He believed that for Edward, nothing had changed.
For Roy though, everything was different.