Title: Goodnight, Moon

Chapter: 4/?

Pairings: Ed/Al --Roy

Ratings: PG-13

lj-cut text"Goodnight, Moon 4"

Roy didn't usually allow himself to walk behind anyone, but whenever he walked about with Alphonse, he would walk a few steps behind him. At first it was because of the whole idea of personal space. When Roy walked next to Al as they walked about the city, he had noticed that the colour in Alphonse's face would turn pale, as though uneasy. Now, however, it was merely because if there was no such distance it would be Roy who would be uneasy. He had learned, by the hard way, that if he allowed Alphonse to walk behind him, the boy would often disappear and reappear with tons of cats. It was discomforting, to say the least, and thus Roy had come to accustom himself to walk behind the boy--and only him.

The weather today was still foggy, so thick it was almost pea-soup, and it dampened coats almost to the surface of the clothes underneath. Two pairs of feet walked, leisurely, against the cobblestone streets, stepping into would-be puddles to delay their becoming of full-fledged puddles. The lighter foot-steps were more playful today, almost skipping, purposely splashing into the bigger puddles and missing the smaller ones. The owner of such footsteps hummed a small tune, the same one he had been singing with the children a moment ago.

"You seem to be in a good mood today," Roy noted, picking up his pace. Al turned his head and nodded, giving a small smile.

"Yes," he answered. He stopped skipping and waited for Roy to catch up.

"Did something good happen?" Roy asked.

"I found some books on bio-alchemy," Alphonse answered. That was really al he needed to say, and Roy nodded. He watched Alphonse continue to walk, ahead of him, small puffs of white breath whispering from his lips as he hummed.

"Alphonse," Roy called. The footsteps stopped, and Alphonse turned again to look at Roy. "It's cold," Roy continued. "Do you awnt to hold hands?" He offfered his one hand, warm from the haven of his blazer jacket. Alphonse glanced at the hand for a brief second before smiling and taking it. The larger hand was held loosely, their palms not touching, but their fingers, which were originally frozen stiff-red, warmed up considerably. Alphonse's hand was small, and fit well enough into Roy's fingers, but he kept his fingers loose against Roy's. He gave their joined hands a small swing at first, but stopped after a while in fear of annoying Roy, and began to sing under his breath.

"How much is that dog in the window?

The one with the waggley tail..."

"Alphonse," Roy interrupted him, his hand tightening a bit. "What are you going to do...when you...accomplish your goal?" Those moss-green eyes seemed to give a quick jolt, like looking from left to right within an instant, then stilled into a reverie. He then turned, his fingers loosening their hold on Roy's, to look at the tall buildings of the city, his eyes catching sight of the tallest points, as far the fog allowed his eyes to go. His eyes went as clouded as the weather today, and Roy knew that he was no longer looking at the city, but at something else. He knew that he was thinking of his brother, looking, trying to imagine what kind of world Edward was living in, a gate of hell (heaven?) away. What kind of clothes did he wear there? What kind of food was he eating? Was he thinking of Alphonse as well?

"You cannot go very far here," Alphonse whispered after a moment's deliberation. "Here in the city, I've forgotten how wide the horizon can be..."

Roy caught on to his vagueness, and hoped that it was because Alphonse didn't want to hurt him that he was being so cryptic.

"You can go many places," Roy offered. "There are many oppurtunities here. For both of you."

Alphonse lowered his head and allowed a ghost of a sad smile cross his lips. "Here, you can't go very far...even if it's straight ahead." His fingers loosened more on Roy's, and the man grabbed for them until their index to ring fingers were hooked again, leaving their thumb and pinky finger to catch the prickly weather's toil and blush at their harsh kisses. The two of them continued to step over the puddles, Roy's boots making the slightest of clicks even on the wet ground while Alphonse's steps were as light as air--it almost seemed as though no one was walking with him. Once again, Alphonse gave a small swing to their hands as they held them, and this time Roy was left wondering if it were a habit he did when he held hands with his brother, many years ago, or was it because he wanted to break away from him. He held fast, though he still let his two forgotten fingers get frozen stiff. He considered the letter he read in his office and glanced at Alphonse, whose lips were moving in silent song.

"Alphonse," Roy spoke when they got to the mansion door. "Why is it that you study alchemy?"

Alphonse broke into a peal of laughter, a very light one, like his answers to Roy's questions, as though he thought it was an obvious thing. "Why do I you /I study alchemy, Fuhrer?" he parroted.

"Is it only to bring back your brother?" Roy asked, not letting up.

"Why do you study alchemy, Fuhrer? Didn't you want to help people?" Alphonse was stubborn in this sense, himself.

Roy's one eye narrowed, and he stared at Alphonse, wondering if he should get angry. Their fingers continued to get colder, the refuge for them just a thick wooden door away, but neither made a move to go to it. Alphonse reached his free hand up and brushed at Roy's eyepatch, his eyes warm with something akin to pity. He didn't know, he didn't remember--couldn't remember what Roy had done to gotten this. Thus he'd always look upon Roy's eye like he was a poor puppy. There was no blame in this.

"...why..."

Why did Roy study alchemy? What did he do it for? To help people? He had used it to kill many people in Ishbal; so many, in fact, that he could still smell their burnt flesh in his nose, feel the grease from their bodies upon his lips. He had wanted to become a nationalized alchemist and raise to the top so that no wars like this could happen again--it all came down to helping the people. But along the lines, he thought that this was all lost. In fact, now that he was here in the throne of the Fuhrer, he hardly used his alchemy to help others. Half the time he was buried in papers. What was he doing?

"People can study all their lives...and not even be happy...not find what they're looking for..." Alphonse whispered, tilting his head a bit. "You might think that I'm selfish, but--"

Roy grabbed Alphonse's wrist and pulled him close to him, gripping him in an embrace. Alphonse's arm was stiff over Roy's shoulder, and from a distance, it looked as though he had stabbed the man through the throat with his arm. The taller man gripped Alphonse tightly, letting his face be buried into that small, slender shoulder.

"You don't need to know," he said. "You don't need to know at all. I won't ask anymore. I won't. I promise."

Alphonse seemed to struggle a bit in those arms, but did not say anything, but he didn't loosen his arm, either. He wondered about his brother then, about how it felt when he was held, like this, by Edward. He suddenly couldn't remember.

"Let's go in...it's cold," Alphonse whispered without a hint of complaint.

Roy nodded and unlocked the door, letting Alphonse in first. He followed after him and watched as the boy went to the loft to get his things down to the spare bedroom. When he came down from the ladder, he was gripping that red cloak tightly in his hands, burying his face so deeply in it that Roy wondered how he walked at all. Walking wasn't really important to Alphonse then, it seemed, as long as he could once again become familiar with what his brother is to him--linked by this sense of smell.

As he unpacked his things in the spare room, Roy heard him sing.

"I read in the papers there are robbers

With flashlights that shine in the dark

My love needs a doggie to protect him

And scare them away with one bark..."

/lj-cut

Naoya: Are you sure this is Ed/Al --Roy? Don't tell me you've been trying to pull people in with a false pairing.

Youko: It is! Okay? Just wait...

Naoya: riiiight...and Alphonse sings too much. What the hell?

Youko: sorry...

Naoya: And you were reading "The Little Prince" before this, weren't you?
Youko: Just...shut...up...