For Summary, Pairings, Rating, Warnings, Disclaimer, and Notes, see Chapter One.
Chapter Two: Deconstruction
Two bodies slumped heavily to the bed, hot wet and panting, steel limbs tangling with flesh as both men attempted to catch their breath.
Mitchell nuzzled the side of his subordinate's throat, nibbling lightly when Edward's head tilted back just so with a quiet, weary groan. He knew the blonde would soon come back to himself, and would leave in a reluctant rush with that heartbreaking smile trying to mask the guilt he felt, so the General always cherished these moments; when Edward was still lost in the haze of blissful thoughtlessness and allowed the older man to just hold him. He was highly protective of Ed, and as much as he knew how hard these little trysts wore on the blonde's conscience, he couldn't help but give in each and every time, hoping that maybe this time would be different; maybe this time he wouldn't wallow in a guilt he had no right feeling afterwards. Maybe this time he'd stay.
But no, that was selfish. How could he hope to keep Ed when he'd never really belonged to him in the first place? Oh, it wasn't as if he thought one of the other men in the young man's life had any more hold over him; in fact, if Mitchell let himself just that small amount of selfishness, he himself probably had the most sway over his lover. Though he held no illusions as to why; they'd been together the longest, and he felt he probably understood Edward the best. There was also the matter of him being the younger man's commanding officer, but he'd learned long ago that that wasn't going to give him any sort of edge over Ed's fate or choices. He really had less of a chance of holding any power over the blonde as his commanding officer than as his lover. But he supposed, in the end, it was a moot point, because when he thought about it, Mitchell didn't really want to hold any power over the blonde.
Certainly he wanted to keep the younger man, but part of the reason for his attraction to Edward in the first place was the fact that no one held any power over him. Well, that wasn't quite true, he supposed. There was someone, outside of the blonde's circle of lover's, that held a great deal of power over the alchemist. All of them knew it, the Lieutenant, the Major General; even the young man's civilian lover's seemed to realize it, though Edward spent less time with them. One youth, in particular; Russell Tringham from one of those washed up mining towns out East. The General had met the younger blonde once or twice and was little less than shocked with the insight he seemed to have into Edward's mind. But then, Russell had known the alchemist from back when he'd been under Mustang's command and had learned quite a bit back then about Edward's personal circumstances.
One of these days, Mitchell thought, he was going to have to have a talk with Russell and Mustang.
The feel of movement beneath him broke the General out of his musings and, with a small grunt and some effort, the older man rolled off to the side, allowing the young blonde beneath him to get up. He watched in clear appreciation as Edward forced himself to sit up and get out of the bed, stretching to reawaken his muscles. He didn't even glance at Mitchell as he padded to the bathroom.
The sound of running water sounded muffled from behind the closed door and the General pulled a few tissues from the box on his nightstand to quickly clean himself up, pulling the sheets up to his waist once he'd tossed the tissues into the trash bin and promised himself a nice long bath once Ed was gone. The blonde in question didn't reappear for another few minutes, taking noticeably longer than the time really warranted to quickly wash up. But, as usual, Mitchell didn't ask, simply offered the young man an understanding smile when those guilt-ridden eyes met his for such a brief moment that it was undoubtedly an accident.
As soon as the blonde was all put together again, the General stood, scooping up a pair of sweat pants from the overstuffed chair near his bed and slipped into them before taking Ed lightly by the shoulders and keeping him standing in that spot before he ran off. "I want you to be careful on this mission, Edward," he murmured.
Ed's gaze was settled resolutely on the General's chest and he gave just a faint nod, his voice barely above a whisper when he replied, "I'll be careful…"
"You're to come back alive, and that's an order." The semi-teasing tone was enough to quirk up a corner of the blonde's lips in a weak smirk; Mitchell was pleased.
"Alive," Ed repeated with a nod.
"And in one piece."
"Now you're pushing your luck," the blonde retorted, again in that weak barely-there whisper.
Really, the older man was just pleased that he'd been able to get that much out of him, and he took a step back, regretfully relinquishing his hold on the young man and watched him walk out the door.
Once Edward was out of Mitchell's house, he leaned against the door, closed his eyes, and took a deep shaky breath. The night was a bit chilly and damp with recently fallen rain and the young man could only be thankful that the General didn't live too far from the dorms but, as he felt the first faint pricklings of nausea beginning to set in, the blonde hurried his step a bit.
The pages of the text were worn enough that they didn't even crinkle as Ed turned them, and he seemed almost more intent on not tearing the fragile paper than the actual contents of the book. He didn't need to pay attention to the contents, though; he practically knew the entire book by heart. Had memorized it years ago as a child. A soft sigh puffed from the young man's mouth and he closed the book with a crackle of the aging glue and a thunk and he traced the elaborate array on the front cover with his metal fingers and then the letters in the title, "Alchemy." It had been the one thing he'd bothered saving from the fire that night when he and Al had burned their house down. It had been a hell of a job forcing himself back into that room, but there were still things in the book that he hadn't understood yet; concepts that he hadn't quite been able to grasp; besides that it was the oldest book in his father's small collection and it just seemed wrong to destroy it, despite that it had been the beginnings of his problems.
Hell, if you looked at it that way, it was probably only right that it didn't burn; that he carried it with him, almost like a physical burden, the manifestation of the indefinable mental one he would always carry with him.
Edward scowled out the window and mentally cursed at his faint reflection. He'd started thinking again.
Perhaps, if the blonde's assumptions were correct about this new mission, he should consider moving to Drachma. At least then he'd be too busy quieting down riots or fighting back against some corrupt non-descript Military entity to think. He'd have some sort of goal to keep his mind focused on to keep it from torturing him with memories and what-ifs and emotions. The blonde squelched another sigh before one of his more overly friendly fellow passengers overheard and decided to try and make him feel better, and he turned until he was practically sitting on his side watching the landscape roll by.
It was a little more interesting than back south because as they traveled further north they got closer to the Briggs Mountains and that made the landscape start to bulge up in places, making hills instead of just flat plains so far as the eye could see. Nevertheless, even just watching the seemingly random jut of the hills seemed to have some sort of pattern and, as the blonde watched he felt his eyelids growing heavy. He wasn't all that surprised really, as he really hadn't slept that well the night before (he never did after one of his "dates"), but he still valiantly fought off his drowsiness. Sleeping in public was not something he particularly enjoyed doing, even as a kid, though then it had mostly been because of the utter vulnerability of it. Now, however, it was more that his sleep was very rarely undisturbed and, if it wasn't filled with disturbing images of his mistakes from his childhood and early teen years, then it was the possibly even more disturbing images involving his little brother and Roy Mustang. Both instances left him moaning, he knew from experience, though the latter usually also came with the added bonus of an aching hard-on and, if he was especially lucky, his hand down his pants. So it was natural that Ed was quite a bit reluctant to fall asleep in public.
However, no matter how valiantly he fought, it seemed physical weariness was winning out on good reason and Ed was barely even aware of it when his eyes finally slid shut.
"Sir! Please wake up!"
He couldn't understand where the voices were coming from, but he suddenly found it difficult to move, more so than it had been before, and Ed thrashed even harder, earning him a few more shouts from those disembodied voices. It wasn't until one of those voices screamed in what could only be pain that his eyes finally opened and he slowly crawled out of the haze of the nightmare.
There was a crowd around his seat; other passengers either holding his arms down or just ogling like he was some damn freak. Well, he couldn't really deny that, but it was all mental, so it wasn't as if they should readily know that just from…
"Fuck…"
Golden eyes widened in pure horror as he saw the conductor, his face pale and sweating as he curled over his wrist. His wrist, which was currently being crushed by Ed's hand. His automail hand. He didn't have to be able to feel to realize just how strong his grip was, and when he finally managed to pull his hand away, the conductor's wrist was already red and swelling. Some of the more cool-headed passengers rushed over to the first aid kit hanging next to the door of the car and sat the injured man down in the seat across from Ed, beginning to splint his wrist and wrap it up, hoping to keep it stable and save it from further injury until he could get to a hospital.
Edward felt as if he were choking. His throat was closing up and was restricting the air-flow as he watched the others tend to the conductor. But at the same time his gorge was rising rapidly. He needed to get out of there, away from the eyes of the other passengers that were looking at him, and he wondered if he'd said anything, done anything to give away what he'd been dreaming about, because they all had that look in their eyes, like they could see all of his dirtiest secrets written out plainly on his face.
Luckily, the young man was only two cars from the caboose, and he flung himself through the doors, practically falling over the railing as he ran through the final door and outside. He made it just in time and he doubled over, clinging to the thin metal that separated him from just falling onto the tracks below as he choked and coughed up what little he'd eaten since that morning, the combination of the acid burning his throat and the force of the dream and what he'd woken up to making tears sting his eyes.
The dream. The dream. Damnit, how fucked up did someone have to be for their mind to come up with something like that for mid-nap entertainment? It hadn't been one of those nightmares that had plagued him since the age of ten; and it hadn't been one of the more recent ones, tormenting him with his own sinful sexual desires; but rather it had been a sick and wholly disturbing mating of both.
Edward dry-heaved a few more times before his stomach realized that it was empty and he sunk to his knees, unable to pry to his hands from the railing. Eyes closed, the blonde pressed his forehead to one of the vertical metal bars connecting the railing to the train and just let the tears silently drip down his cheeks, knowing it was useless to try and stop them anyway. The thought came, not for the first time, that maybe he should go visit a psychologist; the Military had their own personal ones that he wouldn't even have to pay. But, just as every other time the idea had come up, it was quickly pushed aside. Honestly, he wasn't sure what he was more scared of: Finding out that he was, in fact, insane, or that he was perfectly healthy. Insanity meant not only being stripped of his title and his job, but, most likely, he'd either be put on some sort of medication that turned him into a walking vegetable or he'd be institutionalized; and that was not something he wanted to deal with for the rest of his life. However, sanity meant that there were other people besides him that had these thoughts, these sick dreams, and the young man was fairly sure he preferred being the only one that had to deal with this. Besides that the thought of actually telling someone about these dreams was frightening enough anyway.
"Forget your ticket?" a vaguely mocking voice asked from behind him. The blonde hadn't even heard the door open, but that didn't matter, because he recognized that voice. Recognized it far too well, and his eyes flew open to stare at the train tracks as they sped away from him. Other than that, though, he didn't move, didn't even acknowledge that he'd heard the older man. This couldn't be real. This couldn't be happening. Not now! Not so soon after that dream! Not here!
He was supposed to be safe here! Or at least safe from the man behind him. That had been the point! So what the hell was going on!
His hands tightened around the railing, the metal creaking quietly against the metal of his right hand. Maybe if he just ignored him then Roy would go away…
"We heard the commotion."
No such luck.
"By the time we got back to your car you were already heading for the exit." There was a faint shuffling of feet and Ed heard the door shut, and the next Roy spoke, he was a bit closer. "For a second I thought you were going to jump from the train; I suppose I should have known better."
"'We'?" the younger man spoke up finally, his voice horse and cracking, "So…"
"Alphonse is sitting with the young man with the broken wrist." The blonde winced. "He's studied a bit about Xing's medical alchemy, so he should be able to set it until he can get to a hospital and get it fixed properly." Of course Ed easily read the missing end to that statement: 'You would know this if you'd bothered to spend any time with your little brother at all since you returned.'
The silence grew between them, not quite uncomfortable but more like something living and altogether unstable; as if one of them saying the wrong thing could make them both explode.
"What are you doing here?" Ed demanded quietly, finally breaking the silence. When no answer came and nothing quite blew up, he asked again, louder and finally stood and whipped around to look at his former commanding officer. "What the hell are you doing here!"
Roy looked blatantly taken aback, visible eye widened and lips parted in a silent exclamation of surprise. But the older man was really only reacting to the blonde's appearance, so dramatically changed since, what had it been, only four days ago? And yet Edward's face was pale, his eyebrows furrowed deeply and he seemed to be shaking; now that he was able to get a good look at the young man for the first time in nearly a year, he noticed also that there seemed to be a few premature strands of grey twining through his hair. And even though the fire burning in his eyes, fueled by guilt, disgust, and just plain frustrated uncertainty was nothing new, it seemed magnified ten-fold at this moment, though he wasn't entirely sure if that was to be wholly blamed on the puffy redness of them; obviously he'd just been crying, a fact that just served to surprise the older man more. There was a raw quality about him, and Roy had the feeling that it had something to do with whatever had lead the young man to break the poor conductor's wrist.
The older man's expression was schooled back into something more befitting the former Flame Alchemist in a second and the look he gave Edward wasn't quite a scowl, but it was bordering it. "Alphonse's birthday is coming up in a few days--"
"We've already had this conversation, Mustang!" Ed snapped, "If you're throwing him a party shouldn't you both be back in Central with all of your buddies?"
Again there was that distinctly bitter tone, and Roy filed the information away in his mind to ponder later. "The party has been cancelled."
There was a momentary flash of surprise before Ed realized where this conversation was going, but he still remained cautious, not wanting to jump to conclusions just yet. "Why?"
"Because Alphonse wished to spend it with you, Edward." No reaction. "We've spoken at length for the past month or so about what he wanted to do to celebrate. He spent two years not knowing what had happened to the last of his family and as much as he seemed to content to spend the day with a few close friends, it was clear that, now that he could have you there, he wanted it."
The enormous rise of guilt in those fierce golden eyes was nearly a physical change, but neither man said anything for some time. Edward had already caused his little brother so much pain in their admittedly short lives when all he'd wanted was to make things better for him. But now, as selfish as he knew he was being, he knew he couldn't stand being in either Roy's or Alphonse's presence, let alone for such a long period of time. There was nothing for him to focus on anymore to turn his thoughts away from his own desires; and besides, it would be better for both of the other men in the long run, if Ed wasn't constantly fighting the urge to ruin the only thing that had brought a smile to his brother's face since their mother had been alive.
Then there was a warm hand on his cheek and Edward didn't know when he'd gotten so close, but Roy was only a few inches away and he could see his lips moving, probably forming his name but the expression on his face that exuded pure concern, as if he actually really cared about the blonde, seemed to be somehow drowning out the sound of the older man's voice. And Ed was trapped. Completely unable to move away from the man, even though he knew he should, because this wasn't something he was allowed to want because it was something his brother already had and Ed had no right, no right to interfere with that. Besides that it was also his brother and that just wasn't right and how could he burden Alphonse with that?
Roy was awestruck by the look of sheer longing and pain in those stunning golden eyes, completely speechless as he brushed his thumb along the line of the younger man's cheek. But in the next instant, that utter vulnerability was replaced once again by that guilt that had nearly swallowed the young alchemist whole as a boy, but seemed to be doing a better job of it that past year. And then Edward was gone, and Roy was left to lean his hands on the small metal railing, staring at the tracks as they sped away from him. There seemed to be nothing he could do for Edward, to chase that haunted look from his eyes; but only because he wouldn't stand to be in the older man's presence for any amount of time. And that hurt, more even than thinking the young man had died three years ago.
Edward barely had the presence of mind to be thankful that the crowd formerly gathered around his seat with the conductor had left, especially when he remembered that Alphonse was supposed to have been helping the injured man. Nevertheless, he still got a few curious and vaguely offended looks from some of the other passengers, and the blonde wasted no time in dragging his suitcase down from the overhead shelf and moving to one of the more crowded cars in front of him. He steeled himself and asked someone sitting alone in an aisle seat if he could take the one by the window and felt at once relieved and nervous when she smiled and shifted back so he could get through. As long as she didn't try and strike up a conversation, he supposed it was a cheap price to pay so that he could have a better chance at hiding if Mustang came looking for him again. He idly wondered how they'd even known that he was going to be on this train anyway, but chalked it up to the fact that Mustang probably still had those same omniscient powers; though just exactly what else he knew was enough to make Ed nauseous again. Luckily, he'd already emptied his stomach along the railroad track, so there was nothing to worry about concerning that.
The last two-and-a-half hours of the train ride went by torturously slow, but without any further disturbances. The only contact Ed had with anyone was a minute-long one-sided conversation with one of the other conductors. He gave the man his name, authorization number, and the number to General Mitchell's office, explaining that he should pass on the information to the man with the broken wrist once he got to the hospital and they'd take the amount of the bill out of his own pay. It was the least he could do, after all. Other than that, even the woman sitting next to him just gave him a curious look but otherwise didn't bother him, which he was eternally grateful for; he wasn't certain he was quite in the right mindset to deal with nosy strangers.
Ed was out of his seat before the train even fully pulled into the station, practically bouncing in front of the doors until they opened and he darted out of them with no mind as to where exactly he was going. All Edward knew was that he had to get as far away from the train as possible and the passengers inside. If Roy and Alphonse had really come to spend the younger blonde's birthday with him, then he knew he couldn't give them any idea as to how to find him. He had a pretty good head start as, if he still knew his little brother, the two lovers would be staying behind to make sure the conductor made it to the hospital alright.
The blonde didn't stop running until he'd made it out of the train station and down onto the main road, pushing through the crowd of people waiting for their rides and flagging down a taxi cab.
"Where to, Boss?"
"The furthest possible inn from here that's still within city-limits."
A nod was all he got before they were veering off into traffic and Ed had another half-hour wait before he was through traveling. He took the time to get a good look at this latest location.
It wasn't quite the thriving city that Central was, but it wasn't really the small rural town that Rizenbul was either. Once upon a time, Grenzeberg had been an affluent trading town, being situated just near the most hospitable path through the Briggs Mountains to connect Amestris with Drachma. Because the trade route was so dangerous, however, the goods brought in from the northern country had been in short supply and, therefore, in great demand. No one ever knew what really happened that all contact between the two countries stopped, but each side claimed the other was responsible.
There had been a rather large caravan of both Drachmans and Amestrians traveling back to Grenzeberg with their latest haul; maybe about thirty or so men. The man who'd commissioned their trip back in Amestris never heard from them, but supposedly neither had his Drachman counterpart. Both sides claimed foul play: Drachma saying the Amestrians had killed their men and stolen the goods; and Amestris saying the Drachmans resented them using the imported goods and getting a larger profit for them and, likewise had killed their men. Of course since the two countries had never quite been on very friendly terms to begin with, no one stopped to think that, perhaps the party had simply gotten lost and died in the mountains. Ed had to wonder what would happen if they sent an expedition out into the mountains and they came back with the remains of the party. He supposed it didn't matter, however; it had happened so long ago, there wasn't a soul living that remembered that time, and probably hadn't been for the past few decades. Besides, while there had been talk of war at the time, the mountains were a danger that neither country was willing to risk, even for war.
Grenzeberg, however, hadn't suffered greatly from the loss of that particular trade route. Once the route had closed down for good, they'd focused on their appeal as a holiday getaway. Nestled comfortably in the shadow of the Briggs Mountains with a view perfect for any postcard from any one spot in the town, it quickly became a popular vacation spot for honeymooners and skiing-enthusiasts. The fact that it was also home to the second best university in the country probably didn't hurt either (second only to the one in Central).
The highly-originally-named Briggs University and its extensive library was something that Edward would have been interested to see; however with this particular mission it would probably be impossible. Besides that he'd probably be spending any free time that he did happen to get, trying to keep away from Alphonse and his lover.
That thought just made the blonde scowl furiously, and he saw the cab driver shrink away from him as he paid the man and left the car, but he couldn't really bring himself to care. Why had this had to happen now of all times? Just when he had finally started to try and get over them? Better yet, why had it had to happen at all? He couldn't claim that he'd been happy separating himself from the both of them, but Edward had been far more content when they hadn't been chasing after him; trying to make him believe that they cared. No, that wasn't really fair; Edward knew very well that they cared. The problem was in the fact that they didn't care about him in the way he wanted them to; the fact that the more rational part of his mind knew he shouldn't want them to because they already cared about each other that way and he had no right to want to interfere with that. Especially because one of them was his brother.
"Here you go, Mr. Tringham," the concierge smiled, despite the rather cold look she was getting, and handed the young man the key to his room.
Ed just nodded and accepted the key, stuffing his wallet back into his pocket as he headed towards the main stairs. The false name had been necessary -- all he was supposed to be doing was reconnaissance, after all, just information gathering -- as the name Edward Elric was rather well-known throughout the country and he couldn't chance the objects of his investigation finding out he was Military. The choice of name, however, had become a bit of a habit; an equal trade for Russell Tringham using the State Alchemist's name for all those months.
Once he was safe in what was to be his room for the next week at least, Ed leaned heavily against the closed door and sighed, loudly, the sound more weary than the walk up the three flights of stairs warranted. He wasn't sure he was going to be able to do this. He knew he wasn't going to be able to do this. It had been bad enough living in the same town, working in the same building, however large. Fuhrer Hakuro had denied his request for a transfer to anywhere else, wanting the powerful young alchemist, hero in the eyes of the public, close by. It had been hard, especially at first when Alphonse and Roy would try to track him down and corner him for a conversation, some sort of explanation. But after a time, they'd stopped; realizing that he couldn't see them. Or maybe they just thought he didn't want to see them. Either way, it was really all fine by him, because it meant that he could let his guard down a little. He supposed it was Alphonse's birthday that had more than likely sparked again this sudden interest in seeing him, but that didn't make it any less difficult. And now, with his brother and former commanding officer actively searching for him, he was positive that he wouldn't make it out of this town with his sanity intact.
Ignoring the beautiful view of the mountains from the window at the back of his room, Edward collapsed onto the freshly-made bed and didn't move for the rest of the evening.
Over the course of the next few days, Ed spent the good majority of his time listening to the gossip in town, getting familiar with the townsfolk, and making connections. He dressed to make himself as unassuming as possible, even stopped braiding his hair for the time-being, keeping it back in a simple ponytail instead. The young man was also thankful that he'd broug his heavy long coat as, being this far north and the seasons changing from the warmer, it was growing awfully cold, especially at night when he could almost see his breath as he left the diner he'd regularly eaten dinner at and headed over to the bar rumored to be frequented by alleged Drachman refugees.
The rumors had, he was almost positive of it, turned out to be true. They may have been able to hide themselves physically, but it was something they couldn't change that had ultimately given them away. While the Drachman language was somewhat similar to that of Amestris having, roughly, the same roots, they were, ultimately, two separate languages. And while the alleged refugees wouldn't be so reckless as to try and sneak into a country without learning it's language well enough that they could hold on conversations, there was a subtle difference between their accents. The Amestrian accent tended to be sharp and clipped in relation to the heavy rolling Drachman accent, so it wasn't very difficult to pick the aliens out of a crowd, especially when their tongues were loosened with alcohol.
"Tringham!" A tall, bulky man called out as soon as the blonde stepped through the door. He didn't even have to bother pushing through the crowded bar as the people in his way quickly made a point to get out of it.
"Hey, Rost," Ed greeted, forcing a cheerful smile and trying not to flinch away as a muscular arm wrapped around his waist.
"I had almost given up hope. Thought that you might stand me up."
The younger man allowed himself to be steered towards the bar, telling himself that it was essential to the mission that he keep up this appearance. As far as Grigori Rost was concerned, the blonde sharing drinks with him at the bar was a young student, Russell Tringham, looking into attending Briggs University. He had planned on coming up here from his home in the West with a few of his friends, but they'd all backed out at the last second. Still, Russell was very dedicated to his studies and so he'd taken the trip by himself. When he heard this, Rost took it upon himself to keep the young man company while he was in town.
For his part, Grigori Rost was supposed to be native to another northern town, a bit to the east of Grenzeberg. He claimed to have been a miner, but Ed was well-trained in these sorts of things and, under his careful attention to detail, Rost just reeked of military service; short cropped haircut, toned muscles reminiscent of basic training, a voice that demanded attention and respect even when he wasn't barking orders, and stick-straight posture that any commanding officer would be proud of. His accent was significantly better than some of the other Drachmans hiding out in town, but he still couldn't quite hide the fact that he was rather unfamiliar with the Amestrian speech patterns. It was enough, Ed decided, and, the second he'd seen that Rost might be interested, he'd latched onto the man, putting on his best Innocent Student face and shyly flirting with him every chance he got.
It worked; very well. Too well, if you asked Ed, but he wasn't about to let a little thing like his own discomfort stop him from completing a mission. He never had. All he needed to do was get some information, and most likely that wouldn't require going very much further than maybe a date or two. If he was lucky, he wouldn't even have to go any further than that; which was good, because the idea of kissing the man was just about enough to make his stomach turn.
And that was why he barely controlled a wince when Rost turned to him after about a half hour and leaned in close to the young man, suggesting practically in his ear to be heard above the noise of the bar, "Let's get out of here."
The shiver that ran down the blonde's spine was easily mistakable as caused by anticipation, and Ed turned to the older man, flashed him a sheepish smile and nodded. That arm was around his waist again, and it took quite a bit of will power not to pull away. He didn't like where this was going, not one bit; he'd known he was playing with fire when he first started flirting with the man but he hadn't anticipated that he'd become this interested this fast. Perhaps he'd just been underestimating his own acting skills, but it was really past time to worry about that. Instead, Ed put his mind to the task of keeping the situation from getting out of hand and still finding out the information he needed.
As they continued further into town (and subsequently further away from the blonde's inn), Rost continued flirting with the young man at his side, and Ed continued giggling and ducking his head as any shy innocent student being seduced by an attractive older man might. Well, he assumed the man was attractive to someone anyway, but despite the thick mahogany hair and cool blue eyes; despite the confident smile and seductive demeanor, Ed just couldn't bring himself to find anything to be attracted to. Besides, he was just part of the mission, and despite his numerous lovers, the young man never got involved with a target.
It took him by surprise when Ed found himself quite suddenly pressed to the wall of a building, Rost's hand pressed to the wall beside his head and the other making its way slowly down his side. The mere proximity of the older man's face made it quite clear what it was he wanted and the fact that he was using his own body to pin Ed to the wall made it quite clear that they weren't going anywhere until he got it. The blonde tried to keep the sick and nervous expression off his face and he wished to every god he'd never believed in that he'd been paying more attention to the conversation. Luckily, it seemed that Rost wasn't the type to just take what he wanted without permission and he eased up on the blonde, lifting his hand to brush the backs of his fingers down the side of the young man's face and his own expression turning to one of slight concern.
Golden eyes darted to the side when the blonde heard the sound of footsteps approaching and he saw, as his expression turned to blatant fear, that Roy and Alphonse had finally managed to track him down.
Shit…!
The next moment, Ed had reached up, grabbing Rost's collar and tugging him down until their lips met. He didn't need them, he was fine without them, he could take care of himself and go on with his life and forget them completely. That was what he was trying to get across by the display, but how could he possibly hope to prove it to either man when he couldn't even convince himself of it?
"Brother…?"
Alphonse's voice was like a stab right through his older brother's chest; the concern and hurt in the younger Elric's tone making him nearly choke. But it wasn't until Roy's voice traveled over to them that the kiss was broken, and not by the blonde.
"Come, Alphonse; obviously Edward wishes to be left alone tonight."
If it hadn't been for the fact that he'd obviously recognized these people, Rost probably wouldn't have made the connection. However, they were the only four people out on the street so late, and his name most certainly wasn't Edward.
"Russell," he asked, his calm tone completely put off by the suddenly suspicious glint in his eyes, "Who are those people?"
Ed forced himself not to look in the lovers' direction again, but the fact that the sound of footsteps hadn't faded though he couldn't hear them anymore told him that both men were still there. "I don't know," he answered, knowing very well Rost was unlikely to believe that.
And he was absolutely right. Rost was backing away from him, glaring at him and darting equally venomous glances at the two men staring at them. "Why did they call you 'Edward,' Russell? Just who are you?" The look in his eyes was reminiscent of an injured animal being backed into a corner by a possible predator, and Ed couldn't stop himself from turning to glare at the other two men as well. From the looks on their faces he could tell that they hadn't meant to blow his cover, but that didn't make him any less furious.
"Just calm down, Grigori," the blonde sighed, straightening himself and taking a couple of hesitant steps towards the man. "I'm just looking for some information."
Probably not the best thing to say.
Rost bristled, drawing himself up to his full height in an attempt to intimidate the younger and smaller man. However, Ed had gone up against more intimidating men than the Drachman, and he wasn't about to be scared away.
"What information? I do not know anything, so there is no reason for you to look to me for it."
"That's not true," the blonde countered, "And you know it as well as I do."
"Who are you!" Rost shouted, the agitated look in his eyes speaking volumes of just how right the younger man was. "What do you want with me!"
The blonde turned briefly to regard his brother and former Colonel, pleased to see that Roy had stepped a bit forward, trying to block his lover from the Drachman, dark gaze focused on the larger man while Alphonse stared at his older brother with frightened and apologetic bronzed eyes.
"My name is Edward Elric," he answered finally, turning back to Rost, any and all traces of the shy university student gone leaving only, "The FullMetal Alchemist. We've been getting reports back in Central about supposed refugees from Drachma sneaking into the country. It wouldn't be a problem except some of them are getting rowdy, and we don't really appreciate our citizens getting terrorized by people who technically don't even belong here."
The sound of vague surprise off to his right told the young man that the problem had been kept such a secret that not even Mustang had known. Though, in his defense, his network of spies had significantly dwindled since he gave up his rank. But that wasn't what concerned the blonde at the moment; the more pressing matter was the twitch of a large hand towards Rost's back.
Ed's only warning was the larger man shouting something in Drachman; after that everything seemed to blur together. There was another shout, somewhere off to his side, and footsteps. But one of them was awfully loud and Ed remembered lifting his right hand as if to shield him from something, but his attention was pulled to his brother as he saw him running over. He looked scared, and Ed remembered feeling scared, especially when Alphonse stopped right in front of the elder brother, his eyes wide and quite suddenly unfocused. There was another shout and more footsteps, more sounds that Ed couldn't really place, all of his attention focused solely on the quivering form of his little brother in his arms. They were on the ground now, Alphonse clutching his own shoulder, his face pale and sweating and his eyes screwed shut in pain. And all Ed could do was stare at him, holding him at arm's length and unsure of what was even going on.
"Alphonse?"
Both blondes looked up at the question, the darker's filled with pain but still managing a smile and the lighter's just staring in wide-eyed shock. Roy winced at the blank and utterly vulnerable look in the older brother's eyes and merely nodded when a small voice drifted passed the young man's lips, "He's hurt…"