Author's note: Sorry for the long long delay people, but work's been real busy lately, and I've been doing nothing but marking these last few weeks . Anyway, in response to a reviewer's complaint, I'll just say that when it comes to lemon, good things come to those who wait. First part of this chapter's a little boring, but endure through for a bit of a nice reward :D It's not much, but i hope the development's coming along nicely. Now i shall stop babbling and get to the story. Enjoy!
Chapter three:
Captain Riza Hawkeye sat at the long table, all her materials impeccably organized before her, watching as the others trickled slowly into the office, chatting as they took their places at the table.
As always, Hawkeye was focused, her no-nonsense attitude making her seem rather unapproachable, except to those who knew her well. Arms folded neatly on the polished wood, back held straight in a relaxed but dignified line, she was the picture of military perfection. Yet, in reality, Riza was feeling markedly less than in peak condition, no matter how she looked. The news of the attack suffered by Roy yesterday had, as usual, made her worry.
The reckless fool of a man.
It upset her that she was so awfully helpless to stop him from getting himself into all this trouble, that he was too stubborn to listen to her or anyone else. It pained her, too, to see him valiantly trying to carry on despite…despite everything.
She regarded him carefully. Mustang was an expert at hiding his inner thoughts and emotions, but she had learned to detect the subtle nuances of his demeanor which dropped various hints about what was really going on behind that mask.
Of course, Hawkeye had seen the true face behind that mask before. Not just when they were lovers, either; before that, she had been the only other person besides Hughes that Roy had ever shown his vulnerabilities to. She had also seen him smile, open and unguarded, genuine and affectionate, without a hint of his usual contempt or cynicism.
Today, his face was closed, carefully maintained in a façade of his usual good humour and businesslike briskness. However, Riza could tell that it was truly nothing more than a façade.
"Shall we begin?" Roy said when everyone had settled down, steepling his fingers in front of his face and surveying all around him.
"Anytime, Sir," Edward called from his seat, where he sat practically sprawled in his chair, a total antithesis to Hawkeye. Ed could make any formal event seem as leisurely and relaxed as an evening at home. He was a little like Breda in that sense.
Roy cocked an eyebrow in Ed's direction, but only gestured to Hawkeye to distribute the crisp manila envelopes containing everybody's orders.
Riza scanned the names printed on each envelope and handed them out accordingly. Farman, Breda, Fury, Elric, Havoc.
Roy cleared his throat authoritatively.
"Our assignment, gentlemen, is a particularly important one this time round. We are to travel to Aerugo to supervise negotiations and the formation of a governing body in Aerugo and to prevent civil war from erupting. Before I go into the details of each person's specific job, Captain Hawkeye will be briefing you on the exact nature of these talks and on the developments that have so far led to this particular threat."
All eyes turned to Riza. Barely glancing down at her notes, Hawkeye began to speak.
"Aerugo is not a secular state like Amestris. The main religion there is Gnosticism, which was throughout the country's history supported by the royal family. However, in recent years, an alternative religion has evolved within the country. It began as an underground movement and has gained so many believers in a relatively short period of time. Now, it is a very powerful faction in the country.
"Because of that, the previous Tsars of Aerugo were afraid to try and oppose this new religion, thus allowing it to grow in power. Soon, there were nobles who converted to this new religion as well as other high-ranking officials, so that it was impossible for the Tsar to oppose it without stirring up unrest.
"Herein lies the problem: apparently, this new religion is the black to the white of the traditional Gnosticism. Gnosticism is a religion that seeks gnosis or knowledge, as it believes that knowledge is the key to achieving a state of purity and perfection. The new religion, however, believes that knowledge is evil, and it is practiced by those who call themselves the Hylics. In the Gnostic teachings, the Hylics are those bound to matter and reject gnosis, thus being viewed as the principle of evil. It is not surprising that Gnostics are very opposed to the Hylic ideas.
"In Aerugo, Gnosticism is very fundamentalist, and unsurprisingly, the Hylics were met with much controversy. The Gnostics see the Hylics as having distorted their religion, turning many of their people away from the path to salvation. The leader of the Hylics is a young woman who calls herself Sophia and claims to be one of the deities in Gnosticism made flesh. This is an even worse blasphemy in the eyes of the traditional Gnostics, as Sophia was said to be the one who introduced spirituality into the human world, making it possible for Man to seek gnosis. The Sophia of the Hylics, however, claims that gnosis is actually a tool to keep humanity from ever redeeming itself, and that true spirituality can only be achieved in obliterating knowledge.
"The Tsar did not dare to openly condemn either, and was merely mediating between the two religious factions to prevent civil war, until he and his family were mysteriously assassinated, so that no successors remain, whether Gnostic or Hylic.
"As a result, the two religious factions began accusing the other of trying to snatch power by murdering the royal family. The influence of these religions is so great, that there is a general consensus amongst the people that the country be ruled by either of the religious leaders.
"The ruling of the country currently hangs in the balance, and a slight provocation on either side could lead to civil war. A temporary ruling cabinet has been set up, but it has little support, and thus has requested aid from Amestris in settling the country's governance. Our job now is to ensure that a leading body is selected justly and peacefully."
That was merely the tip of the iceberg, but Riza didn't want to overload any of the men, or give any of them an excuse to nap. It was sufficient information for them to operate on anyway.
As it was, the Fullmetal was already etching delicate lines onto his papers, ornate arrays in narrow pen marks, while Havoc seemed to be concentrating on trying to push his lower jaw forward enough so that his unlit cigarette would tap his nose. Roy, who had heard it all before, appeared to be caught up in his own thoughts. Hawkeye kicked him smartly under the table.
Startled out of his reverie, Mustang took only a second to regain his composure, and even managed to muffle slightly his yelp of pain and surprise.
Rising, he unrolled a large map, smoothing it out onto the long table before his men.
"We will be in the capital city of Aerugo, Circe," he said, tapping his finger on the red-marked area in the central area of the land depicted in the map. "Havoc, Breda and Fury, each of you has a detailed map of the city with your designated areas highlighted in red. These areas are those with the largest concentrations of practitioners of either religion, and are thus the ones most likely to be targeted should anything happen. Part of your duties are to monitor these areas with your given patrols to ensure order. You are all to report back to First Lieutenant Farman.
"The negotiations are being initiated so as to form a treaty between the two factions, the top priority being to ensure that peace and order will be upheld. The second is to encourage both sides to agree on forming a parliament instead of having one religious sect dominate the country, which would surely lead to civil strife. Here, I am to act as Presiding Secretary to ensure smooth proceedings, and Captain Hawkeye and Fullmetal are to assist me in this, with Hawkeye on the Gnostic and Elric on the Hylic side. The rest of you will be in charge of security at this event.
"Are there any questions?"
It was a mild surprise to all when Edward spoke up.
"Yes, sir," he said, uncrossing his legs and leaning forward, his face now perfectly serious. "Is it alright for Amestris to be meddling in Aerugo's business? I mean, people can be real touchy when it comes to religion and politics. It's none of our business. We may benefit from peace in Aerugo, but if anything goes wrong, we could be dragged into war."
The world is full of surprises, thought Hawkeye. I thought I'd never see the day when the Fullmetal would actually think before rushing into anything.
She was almost touched with amusement, when the spark in his eyes stopped her.
Lior. He's remembering Lior.
There it was, the pain and anguish of guilt, mirrored in his eyes, the blame that he had taken upon himself for causing the civil war that tore Lior apart, and created the opportunity for the creation of the Philosopher's Stone. The twinge in her chest was almost a physical sensation.
Roy, on the other hand, appeared unmoved.
"Fullmetal, do not question the decision of the Parliament. It is not within my power to repeal or to contest what they have decided," he said coldly, only the slight twitch of his brow betraying his irritation as he sat back down and carefully folded his hands on the table.
The Fullmetal Alchemists' eyes were a dark, burnished bronze reflecting molten fire as he raised them to Roy's face.
"Is that so? Well then, it seems that despite the change in the leadership here, there has been no true change in the rule."
Roy leaned back in his chair, stony-faced as a Gothic gargoyle blowing frost over the conference table. "I understand your concern, Fullmetal, but we have to be led, one way or another. Would you prefer the Parliament, or a tyrant?"
"Why should we have to listen to a bunch of doddery old fools who only know how to quibble over their afternoon coffee! Aren't they aware of what could happen!" Riza watched, shocked, as Edward leapt to his feet, almost knocking his chair over as he shouted. His coffee mug tipped over, spreading an ominous dark stain over the smooth wood. Fury had finally jerked awake, and Havoc's cigarette lay on the table below his open mouth.
"Edward Elric!" Hawkeye snapped, reproach honing her gaze into a fierce, keen blade. Few could survive her glare even when tuned to a much lower frequency, but Ed simply ignored her.
"You are overreacting. We have veered way off course here, Fullmetal. It is not on our agenda to conduct a political debate. I suggest we return to the matter at hand," Roy returned calmly.
Edward's hands were clenched on the table, and at Roy's response they began to shake.
"I thought someone had resolved not to follow unreasonable orders, isn't that right, Colonel?" The youth spat out each word like bile, ringing with undisguised sarcasm and contempt. "Even if it doesn't involve you personally killing anybody without cause, you do realize that many more could possibly die because of your actions, don't you? Or do you simply take what you see before your eyes, and think that you can simply shift the blame because you didn't make the decision? What-"
"Shut up," Roy whispered, his eyes closed against the words. "Just shut up."
At that, Ed fell silent again, lowering his gaze uncertainly, though it still brimmed with anger; he had found the General's old wound, and had run a sword through its lingering scar. The only sound now was the crackle of tree branches in the autumn breeze.
Riza quickly cut into the heavy silence, since Roy was not deigning to move.
"Calm yourself, Fullmetal. Your behavior was totally insubordinate, and is not be repeated." Her voice was razor-edged, but within the acrid atmosphere it came through tinny and weak.
Edward clenched his teeth, and looked away, gold hair curtaining gold eyes. Roy did not react, and the only sign that he was still alive was the slow, labored rise and fall of his chest. Nervously, Havoc cleared his throat, but the awkwardness had the room oppressed into utter silence.
"We depart from Central at twenty hundred hours sharp this evening by train," Roy abruptly continued, as if nothing had happened, "which will bring us to the border between Amestris and Aerugo. From there, we shall be making the journey by coach, to arrive in Circe in about sixty-two hours after departure from Central."
Edward remained standing for a second longer, then slowly lowered himself back onto his chair. Riza watched him not without some measure of compassion, and barely stopped a flinch as he softly murmured "Rose," under his breath, a name that she knew to be his prayer to the dark gods of fate.
-
God damn it. God damn it all.
Edward strode grimly down the paved road, fists shoved deep into his pockets, as if they were the hot coals of his anger that could be smothered by the black leather of his pants.
Can't Mustang see? Or does he just not care anymore? Bastard. Bastard and idiot. Isn't it his concern, to see that there are no more meaningless wars? Ishvar, and then Lior. Not to mention the countless ones before that. Has he worked hard, given his blood and sweat and youth, just to let all of it slip away, go to waste? He can't have!
Fury crushed his face into sullen mask, and other people scuttled to the other side of the road when they saw him coming. Ed knew he must have looked ready to kill somebody. Maybe having a pair of ignition gloves like the General would be a good idea; a simple snap, and he could send something rolling down the street, all aflame.
It was about four o'clock in the afternoon; Mustang's contingent had been released early to pack in preparation for the journey ahead, but Ed had few possessions to tie him down. Besides, how could he even concentrate on packing in the face of something like this?
"Mustang, you fat-faced fucker, what the hell is wrong with you!" Ed muttered, gnashing his teeth and ripping apart the fan-shaped leaves of a restaurant's decorative potted palm.
"Hey you! Quit screwing with my plant!"
"Uh oh," Edward murmured, looking up from the shredded green remains in his white gloves to the enraged restaurant owner, and back again. Caught red-handed, undergone trial, found guilty. Awaiting penalty. Damn.
"That's a rare Drachman palm, you little brat! You've just killed it, thanks to your itchy fingers!"
Little brat?
Ed's temper flared up again.
"Who did you just call a childish little bean boy who's in danger of getting trod on because he's too damn short to be seen properly!" he yelled, or rather, would have yelled had he not been interrupted halfway by the peculiar projectile that was traveling towards him at an unbelievable speed.
Punishment was not pending any longer.
With a shriek, the Fullmetal Alchemist dodged the plate that came flying straight at his face, and raced around the corner, closely followed by various items of flatware. Boots clumping heavily on the ground, he followed the twists and turn of the alley, until he stepped into something slick and skidded, almost falling. He caught himself by slapping his hands against the brick wall to support himself, and almost slipped again. Frowning, he glanced about, expecting to see a leaking pipe or anything that might explain the slippery floor.
The cause of the ground's slickness was immediately apparent, and Ed stood frozen in utter shock and horror.
Then he was stumbling around the corner, the late breakfast that lay in his stomach clamoring to be let out, and falling to his knees on the dusty ground, scrunching up his hands and pressing them to his eyes as he shuddered violently.
Oh fuck. Oh fuck. Oh fuck. Oh fuck.
He allowed the shivering to subside gradually, arms clutched around his sides in a vise-like grip that would leave red marks on his pale skin. The pain did not even register until his body had stilled. Somebody in the alleyway was gasping like a fish out of water, but no one else was around, so it could only have been himself. Yet Ed was not aware that he was doing anything, not for that eternity of several minutes.
I did not just see that. I did not just see that. I can't have!
Trembling, he hesitantly crept around the corner again, to re-confirm that imagination had not manifested itself strongly enough to leave that vivid image etched deeply into his brain, to check that he had not gone fully mad and started hallucinating.
It was still there.
It was a dead body, but unlike any dead body he had ever seen before.
The man lay sprawled spread-eagled on the floor, arms and legs extended in a sickening parody of a five-point star, a deep incision running from the very tip of his chin down his bare chest, ending at his naked crotch, a ghastly wound that gleamed like the wet lips of an open mouth. The flaps of skin had been peeled back and laid flat against the man's sides, black crosses of thread marking out where they had been stitched down to hold the lips of the wound open. White teeth rose out of the red hollows of the mouth-wound, the jagged, sawn-off edges of the body's ribs, opening up the man's chest to the world. And the organs had been placed neatly around the body, none fully separated from the carcass itself, the stomach still affixed to the esophagus running up into the throat, the rectum evidently still in place but the rest of the large intestine coiled against the concrete ground, the spongy lungs just barely drooping over the edge of the horrifying hole.
Rigor mortis had stiffened the body into an agonized position, the shoulders thrust back, the fingers curled upwards like claws, head tilted back and twisted grotesquely to one side, with blackened lips peeled back to reveal the gleam of teeth, knees slightly bent up above the ground but the heels planted straight down, as if the victim had been writhing in excruciating pain while he had been tied down firmly at the wrists and ankles.
The top of the man's head, scalp of blood-matted red hair over a shallow bowl of skull, lay beside the head, revealing the emptiness behind the eyeballs which had sunk in without gray matter to support them. And lying in the hollow cavity of the man's chest, resting against the raw red meat, was a silver State Alchemist watch, its pristine condition utterly at odds with the blood and gore that surrounded it.
Oh fuck oh fuck oh fuck oh fuck oh God someone help me I don't want to see this I don't-
There was a metallic smell in the air, like the meat market in the late afternoon, when the sun had raised enough heat to cause the waiting meat to fester, and flies buzzed around merrily, landing on the corpse's lips and exposed flesh, gleefully laying their little white eggs. Edward's stomach started to heave once more, and this time he could not ignore it. He turned and retched. Somehow, his feet found themselves moving his body through the alley, out to the open world again.
-just let me get out of here, get away from that…
The end of the alley seemed so far away, and he wondered vaguely why it was swaying so precariously, why the ground seemed so low, why his footsteps had become so soft and echoing all of a sudden, why his breathing was the only clear sound to him in the perceivable universe. It seemed an eternity before he tumbled onto the street, smack into the Brigadier General Bastard himself.
Mustang looked down at him, irritation creasing his smooth brow.
"Fullmetal," he began, but Edward's hands suddenly shot out, clamping down painfully on the General's upper arms. He had to tell the General, he was trying to tell the General, but something was wrong, his mouth was suddenly spouting words as though it had a life of its own without a brain to process them, and God, it was so bloody difficult to think.
"Oh fuck, he's dead- they're all over the fucking- his brains- shit oh shit- don't let me see- blood and- and- Christ, it's awful-" Ed babbled incoherently, voice ricocheting off the course he had tried to set it on.
"Fullmetal," the General took hold of the boy's shoulders and shook him, "try to make some sense! What's wr-"
Edward cut in, his voice rising to a hysterical crescendo.
"His watch is in his fucking chest! His ribs are bloody hell gone and his watch is in his fucking chest!"
Oh dear God, Roy thought. It can't be…
He knew he should go and take a look, he should inform headquarters, he should do his job, but Edward had dissolved into violent sobs, his eyes wild and unfocused as the symptoms of his shock and disgust began to slice away the smothering blanket of numbness, fighting their way to the surface. The Fullmetal's hands, one flesh, the other cold steel, were digging painfully into Roy's shoulders, gouging holes in his skin, the youth was slick with cold sweat, and his face was as pale as his gloves, tinged with a sickly green hue.
"Fullmetal," Roy spoke firmly, "Fullmetal, that hurts. Stop it. Calm yourself at once.
"Fullmetal…"
The youth was not responding to his second name. Instead, his eyes bounced crazily off Roy, to the sky, to the buildings around them, and back to Roy again, but they held no inkling that any of these images had truly registered, even as he swayed where he stood.
"He is grown now, sir, but he still carries his past like a sore scar. Remember that." Riza had caught up with him after that morning's meeting to tell him that, which he already knew. Her putting it into words, however, now gave him something to hold on to, in a moment like this. "He needs the assurance that he is a person."
"Full- Edward. Edward," Roy found his voice softening as he switched to the boy's first name in the hope that it was something that he could find comfort in, something he could identify out of the chaos that was now his mind.
"I…I…I…goddamnit," Ed whispered, his eyes now focusing on Roy, although they were still not back to their normal sharpness, the pupils dilating and contracting like the beat of an excited heart. Roy nearly jerked back when he saw the pain, horror and confusion in the Fullmetal's eyes, though he could not quite say why. Except that he recognized it.
Gently, and to his own astonishment, he leaned over and hugged the Elric to his chest. It was not something he had planned to do, nor anything he could have ever imagined himself doing. But for a moment, he had given in to the compassion that flowed through his veins, and this was how it had chosen to move his body. Had the Fullmetal been fully lucid, Roy could have expected to be met with a stiff, unyielding body, and possibly a swift kick to the knees. But in this state, the brash young man flowed easily into his grasp, and the tension that stretched his muscles taut slowly dissipated, despite the periodic sobs that jerked at his spine.
Then, Edward hugged him back, fiercely and desperately. Roy was thunder-struck. Never before had the Fullmetal ever allowed himself to admit to anybody his vulnerabilities, had rarely ever allowed himself to be caught in any such moment of weakness, when the agony of his burdens were fully shown in his need for comfort and support.
But back then, he had to be strong, because of his brother. Pity would have broken him. He needed to walk that lonely, painful path.
Quietly, Roy ran his fingers tenderly through the Fullmetal's long blond hair, enjoying the poignancy of that single, rare moment of transient beauty, before it evaporated with the evening's dew.
-
Edward couldn't remember exactly when he became fully aware of the circle of warmth that enfolded him; it came gradually, in little drips and nudges, slowly rousing him to the shocking and utterly embarrassing fact that he, the Fullmetal Alchemist, was being held and comforted like a child, and by the bloody Brigadier General Mustang, no less. Initially, he had stirred gently, enjoying the warmth and comfort of an embrace, then promptly landed back on earth and leapt out of Mustang's arms as though it were a pit of writhing vipers.
What conversation that had passed between the two men since then was strictly businesslike, and in stilted tones on Ed's side. Infuriatingly, the General had been utterly nonchalant about the whole thing, even pretending that it had never happened. Ed didn't pause to consider the source of his irritation; if he did, he knew he would find that it came about partly because he was now indebted to the Flame Alchemist for keeping his vulnerability a secret and therefore for protecting his reputation before the others. It was this kindness that cut into Ed's pride.
I am not a child to be coddled any longer! Ed silently told Mustang through smoldering glares, despite knowing that the gesture had been something more akin to friendly sensitivity than childish patronizing. It seemed that no matter how many years had passed, Ed himself was unwilling to move beyond that erratic, student-teacher sort of relationship that he had had with the General for so long. For some reason, Mustang knew exactly how to push his buttons, even without trying.
"You did not tell me that they were murdered like that," Edward had spoken quietly and dangerously, a whisper of dagger blade in the air, as he glowered at Mustang. The military personnel, at least, were far out of earshot, swarming around the carcass of the dead Alchemist.
The General had cocked a dark brow at him. "Would it have lessened your disgust and horror?"
"No," he returned slowly, deliberately, "but at least I would have known to show those men last night absolutely no mercy."
The glitter in Ed's eyes was like the sparkle of sun on a deadly poniard, guaranteed to slide through flesh with ease. Yet, the imperturbable Mustang had turned dispassionately away from his gaze. "It would not have changed anything, Fullmetal. Now go home, and pack."
Just like that, once again, Ed had been dismissed. Brushed aside, The echoes of past days in the military under Roy came flying back to him. Run along now, little Fullmetal. Let the big, strong adults handle this. Fury flooded Ed's vision.
"What, are you going to brush me off like a little kid again? I'm bloody eighteen years' old, I'm not a baby! I may be short, but that don't count for nothing, you understand!" he had snarled at the back of Roy's head as the older man began walking away. Mustang did not answer. Ed had felt like screaming at the man, or punching him (both sounded good), but the hard set of Roy's shoulders told him clearly that he would get nothing from the General. A single display of grand defiance was already enough for that day, anyhow.
As he had stood where he was, a strange sense of defeat had risen up into his throat, and his trembling shoulders had drooped away from the sky of their own accord.
Am I not an adult now?
Do you not see me as an adult now?
Now, he and Mustang sat in the private train compartment that they shared, both being of the highest ranks compared to the rest, with only silence between them. Mustang's back was held ramrod straight by the carriage window, arms crossed, Ed sprawled on the seat across from him, hands tucked up under his head and legs crossed over the arm, pretending to nap, but anyone looking in on them would have seen the tension in both bodies.
Ed had been listening intently for any sound that would indicate a movement from Mustang, but thus far, the General had been absolutely still, although Mustang clearly wasn't sleeping. He was certain, too, that the General was waiting for a movement from Ed as well, the flicker of an eyelid, an adjustment of the body's horizontal orientation, an admittance that the sleep was just a charade, and so the Fullmetal refused to move at all, even when his neck started to ache, or when the cloth crumpled up under him began to make him itch slightly. It was almost as if they were playing a game; whoever moved first would lose.
The silence from Mustang was deep, and Ed recognized it as the same sort of heavy silence that Al had about him when he was thinking deeply. Something to do with the murders, he was certain. And the General was not saying anything about it to Ed.
Fine, asshole. Who gives a damn about your opinions anyway? Not me at any rate. They ain't worth shit.
Ed pouted inwardly, and shut off his thoughts to resume his dark sulking.
That Fullmetal's sulking again, Roy noted, watching the nearly imperceptible changes in Ed's face. And of course, he's ignoring me, and the rest of the world, again.
His lips curved softly up into an amused smile as nostalgic memories came to mind. He saw the Fullmetal, his grouchy face rounder and younger, going red as he looked away from Roy. The boy would just never change.
Then a dark cloud floated over his thoughts. Did I honestly treat him like a child? But I know what he's like, and it was for the best that he did not know. It would have fired his sense of justice, distracted him from the assignment at hand.
But still…… am I being unfair?
Roy did not really want to know the answer.
Still, he picked at it restlessly as he stared at Ed's face, illuminated by the harsh electrical lights, turning it over and over until he was not sure which way was up. It was disturbing, the fact that he was, at the same time, somehow avoiding the answer while he was searching for it.
The train carriage rattled as it turned on a bend, sending a thick strand of gold drifting onto Ed's nose. As Mustang watched, Ed's nose began to twitch in response, slightly at first, and then increasingly violently, as Edward tried, unsuccessfully, to ignore it. Roy fought the overwhelming impulse to laugh as the Fullmetal's face began to scrunch up, only to be forced to relax, and then scrunch up again. Finally, the tension was released in a single, explosive sneeze that Roy could have sworn rocked the whole carriage almost off the rails.
After recovering from the sonic boom, Roy looked up to see Ed sitting bolt upright, rubbing a brilliantly scarlet nose and looking utterly disconcerted. He looked so comical, Roy couldn't help it; he began to chuckle, hand placed over his face as if it could somehow stop the laughter from leaking out, which it, unfortunately, could not. He was vaguely aware of the Fullmetal's furious, embarrassed glare blaring at him from across the compartment, but it barely registered through the haze of his mirth.
It was a while before Roy could maintain a straight face, and during that time, the brilliant flush had spread across the whole of Ed's face, making him look like a fiery, setting sun with a bad temper.
"My apologies, Fullmetal. I did not expect such, ah, entertainment on this long train ride," Roy said with his typical brand of wry amusement, smirking at the youth, "I must say that the power of your lungs is remarkable, especially for someone of your stature."
Ed growled unintelligibly, bronzy eyes slitting dangerously. However, the effect was somewhat spoilt by the red creeping slowly into his ears.
Roy turned away and made to examine his fingernails with a nonchalant air. "We need you to stay sharp now, Fullmetal. Please resist the urge to degenerate any further, it took humans quite a while to reach this stage of evolution. Although judging by your height…"
The Fullmetal angrily flicked his braid back, crossed his arms sulkily, and flopped back on the cushioning. Whatever he had expected, Roy had not expected Ed to resist his usual top-blowing and take this rather less spicy approach to handling provocations. Then again, Ed had already shown that when he wanted to, he could control his temper. Now, anyway. It used to be so easy to elicit a most amusing display of temper from the notorious alchemist. Roy opened his mouth, then shut it again. What would he say to the bo- the young man?
A gentle sigh slipped from between his lips, and he turned to stare out the window into the pitch darkness of the night, interrupted periodically by the curves of his face that were illuminated by the light. Silhouettes of the features of the landscape, shadows layered with even darker shadows, slid away to be replaced with new shapes.
Then Roy heard the whisper of cloth on leather, and saw, in the window pane, the splash of colour that was Edward sit up.
The Fullmetal's voice was low and quiet when he spoke.
"Sir. Today- why?- I mean- I don't…I don't know why you did what you did- but- for everything…" his voice trailed off. It was like there was something clogging up his throat; he could not force it out. Roy waited.
"Forget it," Ed finally said, sliding down so that his hips rested against the edge of the seat, legs splayed out in front of him.
Roy smiled quietly.
"Oh, you're welcome."