The Ties that Bind

A series of related one-shots that range from Roy finding Ed and Al in Resembool and far, far beyond. Not chronological. EdWin, AlMei, Royai Parental!RoyEdAl Parental!RizaEdAl

Every Promised Day - 1916

Older Brother 17, Younger Brother 16

Roy did not want to be here in Central; he'd only just gotten to East City two months ago and there was still plenty to do that did not involved taking a train across the eastern countryside to the exact place he'd nearly lost everything only a year before. He knew his aversion to the sights and sounds of Central was ridiculous. Not only did the city itself do nothing wrong, but he would need to get used to being there if he really planned to become Furher. After all, as much as he may want to, it's not like he could up and relocate the capital to East City. Logistically, that just made no sense.

Still, if there was one place in the world Roy didn't want to be right now, especially today of all days, it was Central. And judging by the awkward shuffle of the boys standing at attention beside him, Ed and Al felt the same way.

Furher Grumman stood on a platform at the very center of the courtyard Father had ravaged exactly one year ago and spoke into a microphone to a gathering of soldiers in their black dress uniforms arrayed in perfect groupings of fifty. The courtyard wasn't especially large, so there were only two-hundred soldiers present in the courtyard itself, but there was a gathering outside Central Command on the parade grounds of both soldiers and civilians who could watch Grumman's speech on the mirrored episcope being projected against an enormous white sheet.

Roy was proud to say the Elric brothers had been an integral factor in figuring out how to rig the projection with Ed handling most of the math and science aspect and Al handling all the alchemy. The giant projection was accompanied by proportionally sized speakers that had also been designed and produced by the Elrics, so everything Grumman said matched up with his projection in almost real-time. It was a pretty impressive leap in projection innovation, and Roy wouldn't be surprised if several alchemists and engineers were already trying to figure out how save a projection like this to replay at a later time. He'd mentioned that exact same thing to the boys as they explained their reasoning and processes to him as they worked, and Ed, at least, had that familiar fire in his eyes that came from being challenged.

One of the only good things about being where he was on this day, of all days, was that it was well passed noon; the moment when the Promised Day Reaction had actually taken place. He knew that was done so the projection could be seen more clearly in the dark as opposed to the washed out by the sun, but Roy—and the others involved in That Day—had appreciated the ability to reflect on what happened in quiet solitude instead of being displayed before the masses as he sat on his hotel bed with his fingers laced tightly together and his eyes wide, wide open as he stared at the clock and counted down the seconds to That Moment. Part of him was sure, so sure, that Truth would find him again and realize he'd circumvented his Payment.

He couldn't remember having ever been so scared for himself in his life. And it wasn't even for his life, but for his sight.

"Hey, Colonel," Ed hissed, startling Roy out of his revisiting of that moment of waiting for Truth to strike. "Fix your face, you idiot. You look like you're about to kill someone."

"Brother," came Al's predictably exasperated sigh. Unable to help himself, Roy smiled. It never ceased to amaze him that Al was back and safe and whole—entirely, perfectly whole. The two of them had spent much of the afternoon together as Al had been the one to come knocking at his hotel door to call him out for lunch. Roy hadn't been able to do more but grunt in affirmation as he continued staring at the clock, but Al must have noticed something in his voice because after a long, contemplative pause he said, "General? I'm coming in."

The door wasn't locked, so Al didn't need to use his alchemy to back up his statement and he strode into the room entirely unobstructed. Roy had torn his unblinking eyes from the clock to focus on Al—he rarely every looked at anything but the boy if he was within view because there was still a small, nagging part of him that was terrified Al would unravel back into a suit of armor the moment he looked away—and met a pair of concerned golden eyes. Al looked from Roy to the clock on the night stand still tick-tick-ticking away and the concern melted to understanding. Al pressed a hand to his chest, just over his beating heart and said, "Me too."

Holding out a hand to the boy, Roy offered a silent invitation. Al accepted the hand but didn't wait for Roy to guide the boy to sit beside him on the bed. In fact, Al had nearly pressed himself shoulder to knee against Roy's side and together they watched the clock for almost twenty minutes before Ed arrived, kicking open the door and complaining about being hungry and how Riza wouldn't let anyone one start eating until everyone was there. He paused mid rant as two sets of eyes, one brilliant gold and the other black as coal, focused on him. Like Al, Ed's eyes flicked to the clock before alighting with understanding.

"I'll call down and tell her to go ahead without us," Ed said before proceeding to do exactly that. He then took a seat on Al's other side and grasped his brother's hand with his flesh and bone right hard enough that both of their fingers bleached white. Ten minutes later, Riza arrived with a room-service tray that she sat on the desk to be ignored for another hour or more before taking a silent seat to Ed's left, sandwiching the boys between her and Roy.

How amazing was it that with every new addition, the terror Roy felt morphed more and more into a quiet, appreciative joy?

"—lives we lost." Grumman was winding down his prepared speech, now, which jolted Roy back to the present once again. "But amidst the heartache, always remember that heroes can never die as long as they live on, enshrined forever in our hearts."

No one cheered—it wasn't that kind of speech—but a deep, reverberating reverence settled over the crowd as, all together, the neatly alined rows of men and women bowed their heads in respect. Roy did the same, and from his periphery, he noticed Al and Ed follow suit. Even General Olivier Armstrong, standing to the Furher's left, bowed her head over the hands she'd crossed atop the pommel of her sword.

Then the moment passed, and it was done. The Promised Day was finally, blessedly, over. With eyes that could still see, Roy turned to look over his boys, both healthy, safe, and perfectly whole.

And the first time in his life, Roy sent up a prayer of thanks to Truth.

Kaliea: I'm old enough to remember 9/11/01 in vivid detail. I also remember 9/11/02. I remember watching people mourn and celebrate equally as they tried to make sense of an entirely insensible tragedy. But the thing I remember most is that my dad went to work that day at the Pentagon, the same as he'd done the year before, and I spent the whole day checking the clock, counting down the seconds until he came home. I knew it wasn't rational—the odds of something like that happening again on the exact same day a full year apart are pretty slim, especially since the entire country was on alert for it—but I couldn't help it. I'd spent hours on 9/11 wondering if my dad had been killed in the middle of what should have been his routine day as a Major in the Air Force, and that's not the sort of thing you just shake off. So here's my take on that here. I hope I captured that at least a little, because there really aren't enough words in the English language to explain how it feels.

Thanks for reading!