Red Roses2: Lovely readers . . . please review! It'd be really nice if you guys told me what you liked about my writing and what you didn't like. I'm kind of thinking I have way too much dialogue, but if any of you think differently, or have any advice as to how to work around that, please share your opinions.
Disclaimer: I don't own Fullmetal Alchemist. It belongs to Hiromu Arakawa.
!#$%^&*()_+~
Heinrich panted, his muscles burning with the exertion. Cold sweat running down his face, he ran, eyes wide in fear. The sounds of footsteps behind him echoed, and he picked up the pace. The footsteps were constant, slow, like the person was walking, but the sounds kept getting louder and louder.
Heinrich didn't even know where he was. Black enshrouded everything. He could barely see his breath, but then again, how cold did the puffs of air mean the room was? He couldn't tell.
He heard the unsheathing of a knife and ducked instinctively as a blade flew over his head. Had he stayed where he was, it would have lodged itself in the back of his head.
"Is there really a point in running away?" asked a voice, unfamiliar yet Heinrich felt he had heard it before somewhere.
Heinrich kept running, his pace picking up, the risk of tripping greater.
Shink! Shink!
Two more blades flew through the air, grazing his shoulder and knee.
Heinrich panted harder, ran harder, feared harder.
Shink! Shink!
His clothes ripped. Blood spurted from small but deep cuts.
Shink! Shink!
One knife missed entirely, but the other successfully lodged itself in his back, between two of his ribs. Heinrich cried out in pain, but he kept running. If he stopped, whoever was behind him would kill him!
Heinrich's foot caught on something, and he hit the ground with a resounding THUMP! The German struggled to get back to his feet, but he heard another shink, this one so close his assailant had to be standing right next to him.
"I'm sure you're a good guy, but I can't forgive someone who would deliberately hurt Ed like that."
"I didn't mean to!" Heinrich yelled, still unable to see his attacker. He could make out a pair of boots – military-styled boots – but he could barely see above his attacker's knees. "It was an accident!"
"That's what they always say. I had a sister once upon a time. Thought she had found the perfect guy. I was happy for her until the bastard killed her one day, beating her skull repeatedly."
"I'm not like that!" Heinrich insisted. "I'm not!"
"That's what they all say," the assailant repeated. Though he couldn't see it, Heinrich knew the attacker was raising his knife, ready to plunge it into his heart.
"I didn't mean to hurt him!" Heinrich screamed. "I love him!"
"Sure you do."
Heinrich sweated with dread. He was really going to die here. No, no, he had to make it up to Ed first. He had to! He had to make it up to him!
"Who are you!?" Heinrich shrieked as the knife tore through his skin, his muscles, cutting right through a rib.
Heinrich's eyes flew open, and he bolted upright, panting heavily. He looked around the room. His dresser stood against the wall. His desk with his pens and papers and work journals sat in the corner beneath the window. His clothes lay in the laundry basket next to the bedroom door. He was in his bed, Ed lying next to him perfectly asleep.
Who the hell was that? He had never met the man before. He wasn't even sure the man actually existed. Was he just a figment of his imagination?
But the voice had been familiar. He knew he heard that voice before. But where?
Slowly, his eyes widened as he realized where he had heard that voice last. The voice was from Germany. . . .
~!#$%^&*()_+
The next morning carried the worse silence they had ever felt. Winry and Scar looked at each other, uncomprehending what could have caused this depressing aura. A suspicious bruise developed on Ed's cheek, but when Winry asked where it came from he mumbled something about hitting himself with the door. Heinrich refused to eat. The German just stared at the table morosely, hugging his elbows. Hoenheim ate, but with the out-of-it expression on his face, Winry bet that he could have been eating charcoal and maggots and still have the same look. Little Greed looked just as confused as the engaged couple, but he seemed to know what had happened but not why. Pride mirrored her "father", occasionally shooting glances at him.
Scar and Winry exchanged looks. They nodded in unison. Scar stood up.
"Fullmetal, it's time to leave," Scar said.
Ed nodded, gave what was left on his plate to Little Greed – who had no qualms about eating it rapidly – and grabbed his coat.
Heinrich finally looked up from the table. His mouth and throat moved as though he was going to say something, but he changed his mind and resorted to merely watching him.
Ed looked back and gave a small wave goodbye.
Winry took the plates and proceeded with the chores. She gave any food that was left to Little Greed, who only stopped eating when his stomach couldn't handle any more. The two homunculi then dashed up the stairs, Little Greed dragged Pride. Heinrich rose from his chair with much effort and slipped silently into the backyard, despite the fact that the plane was already finished.
Winry sat across from Hoenheim.
"Mr. Hoenheim, what happened?"
Hoenheim looked up at her, his eyes moist. He sighed heavily.
"Winry, I don't know what to do. Ed – Ed won't – when he should – and I don't know why and - ."
Winry reached across the table and touched his hand.
"Why don't you start at the beginning? Okay?"
Hoenheim nodded and clasped his hands together, his elbows leaning on the table.
"Heinrich and Ed had an argument and – and it escalated to the point when Heinrich h-hit him."
Winry gasped, and Hoenheim cursed the hitch in his voice.
"The young man really is sorry about it, and I can't bring myself to be angry anymore. Because – because I can't help Ed anymore, Winry. Ed didn't even bother to stand up for himself. Heinrich even wanted him to. But he bent to Heinrich's will. Winry, this isn't my son anymore."
Winry frowned and tightened her grip on his hand.
". . . Actually, I believe that." Hoenheim looked up at her, wonderingly. "Ed is very self-sacrificing. If he can find a good reason for it, he'll do it. And he's been more self-sacrificing than usual for a long time now, hasn't he?" Hoenheim nodded. "Hoenheim, maybe it's time Ed got some help. Maybe you two could get it together. Remember when we talked about you getting some therapy?" Hoenheim nodded again. "Maybe you two could get some kind of father-son deal or something. From the looks of things, you need it. I know this really good therapist. The only problem is that she's in the East."
Hoenheim lowered his head, weighing Winry's suggestion.
M-maybe . . . . He kind of hoped Ed fought the idea though. That would mean the aggressive, rebellious kid he helped bring into the world really was still in there and just needed exactly what Winry was suggesting.
"Know where I can find out who's good in Central?" Hoenheim asked.
Winry smiled.
"I can ask the one in the East about it."
~!#$%^&*()_+
Scar had no idea what Greed was doing sleeping on the couch in Mustang's office, but the reaction to the bruise on Ed's cheek didn't give him or Ed a chance to ask.
"Fullmetal, what happened to your face?" Mustang asked, surprised.
Ed glared at him.
"Ran into a wall."
Scar furrowed his eyebrows. "That's not what you told Winry."
Ed glowered at him, reminding Scar of how the blond used to treat him.
Mustang frowned at the apparent discrepancy in stories. Scar sensed Mustang's subordinates watching them, listening closely to what they were saying. Scar glanced at Havoc's desk, where the smoking man scribbled something down on paper. Scar raised an eyebrow at the paper's "Investigay" title.
"Is something wrong?" Mustang asked Ed.
Ed just didn't answer it. "You want me to watch the practical State Alchemy Exam, right?"
The Brigadier General and the Lieutenant Colonel stared at each other in silence for a long time. Mustang surrendered first, closing his eyes and conceding that yes, that was Ed's job today. Ed saluted him and left to go do that. Scar hesitated, then extracted his journal and plopped it on Havoc's desk. He hurried after Ed, Havoc raising an eyebrow at the leather-bound book.
Havoc picked it up and flipped it open. His eyebrows flew up at the very-helpful info.
Breda walked over to Havoc's desk.
"What is it?" Breda asked.
Havoc smirked. "Important info for Mission Investigay." The smoking lieutenant looked up at the newest recruit in the Investigay mission. "Looks like Winry had Scar keeping tabs on Ed and Heinrich."
Breda matched his smirk. "Great!" The red-haired soldier waved the others over. Hawkeye, Fuery, Falman, and Mustang put their work away, and they all congregated around Havoc's desk.
"Why would Ed lie about that bruise?" Fuery asked, much troubled by the fact. He remembered clearly what Al told them, but wouldn't out-right hitting be a little obvious? The Fullmetal Alchemist wouldn't stand for that kind of treatment. . . . Right?
Mustang shook his head. He didn't want to consider that Ed would allow that to happen, either.
Hawkeye rested her hands on her hips. "So how do we find out for sure? Asking Ed won't bare fruit."
Falman scratched his chin. "What if we asked those two kids that are living with them now?"
"You mean Little Greed and that girl?" Havoc asked. Falman nodded.
"Would they really tell us? They seem like the type that would handle things themselves or not give a damn," Breda argued.
"No harm in trying," Mustang said.
"What if we ask Hoenheim?" Fuery suggested.
"No. Hoenheim is like Ed that way. He won't try to get us involved," Hawkeye rebuked.
Fuery frowned. "But who else could we ask?"
"Beat it out of Heinrich?" Havoc proposed.
He was met with a five-voiced "Havoc!"
"Just putting it out there," Havoc defended. His companions sighed.
"Havoc, that attitude is what got your gun taken away," Mustang admonished. "You can't just lash out at everyone who hurts Ed." Havoc bit down harder on his cigarette.
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"It means what it says. You attacked Al verbally, you killed that emperor, you essentially threatened the rest of us, and now you're more than ready to go beat Heinrich to a pulp. Havoc, I've ignored it this far, but you're going to have to get your temper in check."
Havoc narrowed his eyes and cast his gaze onto a random inanimate object in the opposite direction of Mustang.
"I just don't want to see him cry again," Havoc said. Mustang's and Hawkeye's expressions softened. "He's the Fullmetal fucking Alchemist, the People's Alchemist, hero of the common man. One of the best soldiers in this military, and a very good friend. It hurts to know someone that strong – that capable – can be broken down to a blubbering mess. . . . By his own brother, by complete strangers . . . . I don't want to add "by his boyfriend" to the list anymore than you guys do, but God help me, someone needs to look after him."
Silence settled heavily in the room. Hawkeye took a deep breath.
"How?" she asked.
No one had an answer for her.
~!#$%^&*()_+
Fletcher tried to pay attention to his brother's transmutation, but the purple bruise on the Lieutenant Colonel's cheek kept distracting him. It was an awfully big bruise. He wondered where it came from. It looked to be the size of a small apple or a fist. Did he get into a fight with one of the other soldiers?
Ed wrote some things on a clipboard about Russell's transmutation.
"Okay, Russell, that's enough. Let someone else try!" Ed called across the field.
Russell grinned at him jokingly. "And here I was just getting warmed up."
Ed rolled his eyes. Russell walked back towards Fletcher and winked at him.
"Good luck, little bro," Russell said.
Fletcher gulped as he realized it was his turn. Um, they had agreed he'd transmute a climber to go with the tree, right? To simulate the ability to work as a team? Yeah, that sounded right. . . .
Russell watched as Fletcher drew his transmutation circle.
"So Ed," Russell said.
Ed snorted. "I'm not telling you how you did, if that's what you're asking."
Russell smirked. "Nah, that's not it. I was kind of wondering who you got in a fight with."
Ed's pen stalled for a moment, but it went back to scribbling his opinion of Fletcher's transmutation.
"Just want to know who I shouldn't piss off. That bruise looks like someone clocked you pretty good."
"You should see the other guy," Ed said flatly. Russell's eyes widened in confusion at the lack of vindication in Ed's voice.
"Guess you won that fight, then, right?" Russell asked.
Ed shrugged. "Ended in a tie."
"Really." Something wasn't right here.
Ed shouted to Fletcher, telling him when he could stop trying to impress them. Fletcher hurried back to his brother's side.
"How'd I do, Russell?"
"Great, Fletcher. Now we just wait for their decision."
Fletcher turned to Ed. "Will you get to decide, Ed?"
Ed shook his head. "That's the Fuhrer's, General's, and Brigadier's decision. I'm just here to regulate." Ed flashed them a grin. "Besides, I might be accused of favoritism!"
"Right," Russell said, still feeling uneasy. The purple tint to Ed's cheek suddenly looked menacing. "So when do we find out who got picked?"
"They'll announce it tomorrow evening at a real fancy dinner. All the State Alchemists will be there, so be sure not to screw up your first impressions. They'll be your fellow researchers."
"We won't!" Fletcher replied happily – trying to ignore the mysterious bruise. It bothered him for some reason. It wasn't that he hadn't seen bruises on people before – he and his brother even gave each other a few in playful and not-so-friendly scuffles. He just had the feeling that there was something bigger behind it.
Fletcher and Russell walked down the street from the Central Headquarters. They stopped at the same time and turned to each other.
"Brother, where do you think Ed's bruise came from?" Fletcher asked.
Russell frowned.
"I don't know, Fletcher. But . . . remember when Mom started dating? After Dad left?"
Fletcher bowed his head. Yeah. He remembered.
He remembered how their mother's blood puddled on the doorstep.
"What does that have to do with Ed?" Fletcher inquired, looking back at Russell.
Russell closed his eyes and gritted his teeth.
"I don't want it to be like that!" Russell shouted suddenly, his instinct telling him one thing, but his fear of it making him doubt it. "This is Edward Elric we're talking about, who'd get pissed off whenever someone called him short, for God's sake! He saved our asses, got us on the respectable path – gave us the chance to – and practically inspired us to become state alchemists and gave real life to Xenotime and – and who the hell would be able to do that to him, anyway? An alchemist? A superior? Who?"
Fletcher frowned. "Brother, remember that book on psychology I tried to get you to read?"
"Yeah, what about it?"
"It had a chapter on this sort of thing . . . and it said that even though a person is perfectly capable to make it stop, there's something in the back of the head telling them they can't, or that they deserve it. We don't know Ed as well as others do, Brother. Maybe self-doubt is normal for him."
Russell tightened his fists.
"No. I don't believe that for a moment."
Fletcher sighed and walked ahead. His brother would never admit it, but he idealized Ed. Sometimes Fletcher wondered if Russell wanted to really be Ed, not just imitate him like they did when they first went to Xenotime.
~!#$%^&*()_+
Winry dragged Scar off somewhere almost as soon as Ed and he came back. Scar raised an eyebrow at his fiancé. Winry smiled and winked at him, her way of saying "I'll explain it later". Scar looked over his shoulder at the house to see Hoenheim leaving it as well, sighing heavily and proceeding to make his long walk early.
Ed closed the front door behind him, wondering where they were going. He caught a whiff of delicious fumes coming from the kitchen. Curious, he wandered into the kitchen, his eyes widening at the meal already prepared. Golden eyes trailed across the table, then rose to meet Alfons's blue ones. Ed hugged his flesh arm with his automail one – looking like he was waiting to be judged.
Alfons smiled weakly.
"Greed and Pride already ate. . . . Greed didn't complain, but Pride refused to eat it after the first bite. I hope it's not that bad. . . ." Alfons rambled awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck.
"I - ,"Ed started, his voice as breathy and fragile as it was last night. "I didn't talk to Mustang about Greed yet. . . ."
Alfons waved dismissively. "Doesn't matter. It wasn't my place to make a big deal out of it. . . ."
Ed lifted his head slightly, golden eyes desperate. "You were just trying to look out for me . . . ."
Alfons rested his hands on his hips. "How does hitting you accomplish that?"
Ed glanced to the side. Alfons sighed and pulled out a chair for Ed. Ed hesitated, but sat. Alfons took the seat next to him. They ate in silence, continuously glancing at the other.
Once the plates were cleared of food, Alfons said, "Did anyone ask about it?" He pointed to his own cheek.
Ed nodded. Alfons gripped his elbows.
"What did you say?"
"Told Mustang I ran into a wall. Russell assumed I got in a fight."
Alfons frowned. "You could have told the truth."
Ed shook his head. "I didn't want to." Alfons lowered his eyes. "But," The German looked back at him. Ed's eyes sparkled with tears. "I hate how this makes me feel. This – this feeling that I did something wrong."
Alfons reached for Ed's hand. "You didn't do anything wrong."
Ed ignored his words. "For five months, I felt like this. When Al left me. It drove me crazy, with how much it hurt. I thought the pain was going to kill me." Ed met Alfons's gaze. "You made the feeling go away. I still hurt because of it, but not as much. It still hurts, a little, but I can live with it. But - !" Ed's face tore up in misery. "But when you hit me, it all came flooding back!" Ed covered his face; whether it was an attempt to hide his tears from Alfons or to obscure his vision of the German, he wasn't sure. "It hurt so much, and I was scared you were going to leave like Al did, so I said it was fine, but you're right, it's not fine, but I don't know how to make it be fine and I'm so scared you'll change your mind and leave me!"
Alfons pulled Ed into his arms and held him tightly, doing something that any one else could do and yet it was the only thing he could think of. He merely hugged him.
"You haven't done anything wrong. Not with Al, not with me. We're just bastards, okay?"
Ed shook his head, his hair catching on one of Alfons's buttons. Alfons hugged him tighter.
"I'm sorry you feel that way. I'm sorry I made you feel that way. You deserve better than that. I'm going to try to give you better, okay?"
Ed nodded, gripping onto Alfons as though he were a life-line. Alfons trembled with his own emotions, trying not to cry.
"Just don't leave," Ed whispered.
Alfons tightened his hold on him. "I won't."
"I love you."
"I love you, too."
~!#$%^&*()_+
Ran Fan and Fu watched as Mei and Al argued. Al ran a hand through his hair, his Xingese-styled sleeve sliding down his arm. Mei held Ming in one arm and rested her other hand on her hip. The one-year-old was getting a little big for that, though.
"Why can't we ask Ed if he could baby-sit her every now and then?"
"Brother's work with the military exhausts him, and he already has those two other 'kids'," Al used air-quotes when he said kids. "He has enough on his plate."
"I think he'd like to get to know his niece more."
"Why can't we just invite him over or something?"
"Al!" Mei glared at him, clearly losing her patience. "You know very well he gets too distracted trying just being a 'good brother' instead of just being himself! I can never learn who your brother is. All I can do is hear your stories of who he has been in the past. Ming needs to know her real uncle. She deserves the chance!"
"So you're saying this is my fault," Al stated glumly, crossing his arms.
Mei sighed. "That just means that she won't be able to if we're there all the time."
Al slumped his shoulders and covered his eyes with his hand.
"Fine. Do what you want."
Mei smiled, leaned over, and kissed Al on the cheek. Al ignored it. Mei turned all her attention onto Ming.
"Now, let's get dressed up for visiting Uncle Ed."
"'Ay!" Ming cheered.
When Mei and Ming were ready to go to Ed's, Al made the split decision to go with them. Mei knew he would.
~!#$%^&*()_+
Knock, knock, knock. Al fidgeted on the doorstep. Okay. Relax. You were just visiting your older brother to see if he'd baby-sit your kid. The constant reminder that you ran off, broke his heart, and knocked up a practically random girl. Damn it, that's not relaxing.
The door opened way too soon for Al.
Heinrich stared at them, surprised. "Al. Mei. What are you two doing here?"
Mei smiled brightly at him. "May we come in?" Ming threw in an endearing "'Ay!" for good measure. Ming's charm worked, and Heinrich opened the door wider.
The bubbliness that builds up in a person when they see a baby did not keep Heinrich from shooting a glare at Al. Al glared back. Insufferable asshole.
Mei's voice cut into Al's heart like a knife.
"Oh. Um, did we come at a bad time?"
Al peered into the kitchen. His eyes widened as he took in the scene before his wife. Ed sat there, grinning at her, his left cheek bruised and his eyes red, like he had been crying.
"Nah, everything's fine."
Al narrowed his eyes and glared at Heinrich all the more. Heinrich had the decency to just look away and rub the back of his neck.
"Did you come here for a visit, or was there something you wanted?" Ed asked, eyeing the tension between Al and Heinrich warily.
"Dada!" Ming squealed, pointing at Ed. Ed blushed and Mei laughed.
"No, sweetie. That's your uncle Ed, Daddy's older brother. Can you say Uncle?"
"Un-ca!"
"Very good, Ming!"
Ed smiled. Mei matched it.
"Ed, I was wondering if it wouldn't be too much trouble if you could baby-sit Ming sometimes." Mei asked. Ed raised an eyebrow curiously. "I just thought it'd be nice if Ming got to be close to at least one of her uncles."
"Sure. That sounds like fun. Doesn't it Ming?"
Ming squealed another "'Ay!" Mei and Ed laughed.
Al finally removed his glare from Heinrich. "Brother?"
"Yeah?"
"Where'd the bruise come from?"
Ed stalled for a moment, then he remembered one of his excuses. "Ran into the door."
"Really."
"Yeah."
Al narrowed his eyes at him. Ed shifted nervously in his chair. A vein in Al's forehead throbbed. Ed was a good actor. Always had been. But even when Ed gave a good performance, Al could always tell when he was lying. Seeing through this rather feeble attempt was child's play. Al gritted his teeth.
"Did Heinrich hit you?"
Heinrich stiffened slightly.
"No!" Ed protested – too quickly, too loudly, too passionate.
Heinrich swallowed hard. "Look, it's not how it - ."
Al clapped his hands together, and before Heinrich realized it, he was hitting the hardwood floor – hard – and blood rained down on him. The German looked up. Al's hands pressed against where Heinrich's body had been moments before, but the bleeding flesh now there belonged to someone very different.
"B-Brother?" Al said faintly.
Ed gagged, blood dribbling down his chin. His eyes glazed over. Blood seeped through his clothes and fell to the floor in big, bright red drops. It trickled down his legs, painting a macabre picture. Mei covered Ming's eyes, unable to tear her own away.
Ed glanced at Heinrich, the German staring horrified at him. He forced a smile. "You okay?" Ed swayed slightly, Al catching him.
Laughing echoed from upstairs. Heinrich and Al looked up the flight to see Pride and Little Greed standing at the top. Pride covered her mouth, the sounds of her gathering up a loogie resonating through the horrified hallway. Little Greed flashed a grin at his sister.
"Looks like we get Wrath and Envy for little brothers, Sister."
"That we do, Brother. But it wouldn't be good if Mother bled to death."
"You won't let that happen, Sister. Should I go get our little brothers?"
"No, let them crawl their way out on their own. Besides, who knows what Wrath will do once he's out."
"True, Sister, true."
Movement in Ed's direction distracted Heinrich for a moment. He looked at Ed's paling, bloody form, and his eyes widened in shock as, from the open wounds, rose a hand.