Chapter 5: Consolation
He doesn't know what to make out of it. He's got enough blackmail on me to last until his grandchildren are dead, so I don't care. I can do what I want to. I wanted to kiss him. So I did.
Trouble is… I'm still a four- fifteen-year-old kid who supposedly tries to seduce a superior. On the other hand… such liason is so improbable, that nobody would suspect it, even if something did happen. Which it didn't.
I'm going to drink this and go to sleep on the couch, perhaps with Ai-chan for company.
A
He's good at pretending, Mustang is. But I'm good, too. He doesn't acknowledge what happened on my birthday and neither do I. I don't need the people in the office to know that I've been to Mustang's house.
Al wasn't questioning me about it, but he tried to find out from the Colonel. To no avail, unsurprisingly. Things are back to normal. And I am back to duty.
I got off easily this time, a few scorched contacts so that my fingers don't move properly. I'm always writing the report with left hand anyway. It's a pain, especially when sitting on the train and making a dash each time there is a jolt. Means about each letter. I so hate reports. I hate Mustang.
"Brother, I want to visit Winry and Auntie Pinako-"
I look up. I don't want to go to Risenbool more often than is absolutely necessary, but I wouldn't stop Al from going. I'm not worried about him; he can take a care of himself.
"Al… how about you went to visit and take Winry to Central when you come back, so she can look at my hand?"
"You don't want to go, brother?" Al asks, concerned. I can't exactly tell him.
"I don't have so much vacation left, Al. As long as you tell hi to Auntie Pinako, I'll be alright. And Colonel Bastard can be happy, too." Which is a lie. I don't have a clue about whether Mustang wants me on a short leash to keep an eye on me, or whether he'd rather have me out of sight. I don't know if he doesn't regret that he ever helped me become a National Alchemist.
A
"Edo-kun! Where's Alphonse-kun?"
The routine – halt, conjure a smirk or a frown (I'm feeling bad right now, so it is a smirk), turn around.
"He's gone to visit Winry."
"Oh… you're going to see the Colonel?"
I wave the papers in my left hand.
"Got to submit the latest report."
Riza released me, having spotted something unbecoming – probably the smoke Jean was trying to hide from her. I count as I walk across the room – they are all there. And the door to the office is open. That means Mustang is alone and fighting paperwork. He'll be grateful for distraction… hopefully.
"Hey, Colonel Bastard!"
"Hey, brat."
Nobody pays any attention. The better for me. I shut the door, clap awkwardly – when you have one immobile and one full fist, it's a harder task than you'd think – and 'lock'.
"Evening, Colonel. Enjoying paperwork?"
The answer is a growl, which means that he's got a headache that not even coffee can kill. I thrust the report on the 'in' pile and round the mountain of paper to get into his line of sight. At least he won't have stupid remarks about not seeing me over it.
"What do you want, Hagane?"
Weren't we through these before? I can sooner have the sky at my feet than what I want. Beside that, I would also appreciate the Philosopher's Stone, and Al having his body. That's about it.
"Goodbye, Colonel."
I would have rescued him, but not if he's being a prat to me. I'm also tired. I'm cold. I'm stinking and sticky and wearing dirty clothes. I don't care for superiors trying to bite my head off.
"Stay where you are. How much?"
I halt, but don't bother to turn around. Twenty seconds isn't worth the effort.
"Fifteen thousand, I suppose. Could be more."
"How many?" he asks and I hear him shuffling.
"Three."
"Only?" He sounds surprised. It might be my record. But then, this was the first real routine mission I got to do. A handful of smugglers and a contraband. Catch them, bring the chest. Easy.
Except that no one told me what does it feel like when a seven feet tall man aimes a harpune at me from a few steps. But I can do with that. I just didn't like the way the tip glinted. It's all. Sort of like some people are afraid of shots. I'm afraid of harpunes. And what?
"Am I dismissed?" I say, keeping the hopefullness from my voice.
"No. I have an errand for you to run."
I'm torn between sighing, crying and ripping his throat out, but I turn around calmly, accept the paper he's handing to me, and leave, melting the bars with another pseudo-clap.
A
The bastard gave me his shopping list. I held myself during all the time I was in the shop, but walking up the first lane I broke into a hysterical laughter. Yeah, I know I'm not sane. Never troubled me before. I just have to make sure the people around me won't know.
They don't. I've taken the shortest route to Mustang's house, one that leads through a maze of narrow unlit alleys. I had to punch one bloke who came at me with a knife to get him out of my way, but I got to my destination fast and unnoticed by any military personnel.
I have to give him one thing; he's subtle. Or at least he can be subtle when he wants to. Giving me his shopping list… And with some things to buy that might have or might not have been a message for me. I decided I wanted them to be one. That's the reason why I had the audacity to walk straight up and open the door for myself with just a little Alchemy – I am not subtle, and I am proud of it.
The lock clicked, and Ai-chan meowed from the kitchen. I went there to see her at first… and to unload the bag on the table. The damn cat licked the tips of my fingers when I tried to pet her. I guess that means that she likes me.
"Hello, pretty. Where's the jerk?"
A rumble in the piping told me approximately where, and I sighed, closed my eyes, and sat down on the chair. I'm too tired to try and fix anything to eat for myself; besides, I have eaten recently. Not that I ever refuse food, but right now… I do.
"You don't know what this is about either, do you?" I ask of the cat. Strange, pets are rather easy to talk to. Maybe one day, when this madness will have ended, I will have my own cozy quiet calm house and my own cat I could talk to. And Al's children will come on weekends to see Uncle Edo… urgh. That's so… ear-splitting.
"Hagane."
I look up and see but a silhouette. The house is dark and I haven't bothered to light up – obviously, Mustang hasn't either. He should have. I should do it now. I don't want to. So I don't.
"Hungry?"
"No."
He doesn't believe me, but he doesn't argue. I watch as he fixes a loaf of bread with marmelade for himself – I never took him for a marmelade man. Every time I come here I learn something new.
"You bought everything?"
I nod. I don't know if he could see me, but he doesn't ask again, so he probably did.
"Take the bottle from the cupboard and wait for me upstairs. I'll be there shortly."
I don't know what's gotten in me that I obey him. I just… I guess I want the wine. It's been long since my birthday. I'd like to repeat that. Probably.
I've been sitting on the sofa for a good five minutes before the stairs creaked. I didn't look in that direction, I was just staring at the bottle until he took it from my sight and opened it. Just like that. He makes things seem so easy.
"Do you know the answer yet?"
What kind of question is that? I need to be much more drunk to be able to comprehend the language he's trying to speak. And I'll never be fluent at it, but, damn it, I'm going to try.
"Give me a glass. A big one."
He laughs quietly and I fight not to revel in the sound. It's too nice, too soothing. I don't feel strong enough to fight, not after I've just spent a week fighting almost constantly.
"You don't have a harpune hidden anywhere, do you?"
He smirks, but the smirk fades as he realises I was being serious. He drops on his knee in front of me, standing the bottle on the table, and forces me to look down at him.
"Are you hurt, Edward?"
I shake my head, but he doesn't believe me.
"You should have told me; if I knew I wouldn't have made you run across the City-"
"Shut up, Roy. I'm not hurt."
He doesn't acknowledge the address. I understand a bit of his language even relatively sober: 'I don't mind'.
His eyes move from my body to my face and my lips curve upwards. Yes, he sees. I'm hurt inside, precisely the same way I had been hurt when I faced Barry the Chopper. But this time it was entirely my fault, and this time it was an opponent I should have been able to beat on my own.
"We are just humans…" I repeat to Roy what I said to Al back then. He, unlike Al, understands the limitations. Al wasn't precisely a human back there. His limitations are different. Roy is…
I smile inwardly. I know now what I was missing weeks ago. It's easy. It's right there – I just have to reach out. So I do.
The tips of my fingers are touching Roy's face. It's coarse, unshaven since the morning. He blinks as the realisation hits him. He hasn't expected this. He doesn't know me as well as he thinks he does. He saw the hurt, perhaps, through all my layers of disguise, and he wanted to console me.
It's… one of the nicest things anyone ever did for me.
He has all the choices now. It's up to him. Kick me out, tell me to stop and let me sleep over on the couch…
I lean forwards and kiss him. It's a question and a persuasion at the same time. He does nothing. He doesn't move at all, but he can't exactly allow me, can he? I'm his subordinate. Moreover a child. I might quite well be the bane of his existence.
"Roy…" I breath hardly audibly, "Do you regret helping me become a National Alchemist?"
He's staring in my eyes and then, all of sudden, he jerks me forwards. It hurts a bit, and he's hard to smash into, but I'm not fragile. He's holding me in his arms like no one ever has before. I don't want to be smelling him, but can't help it unless I want to suffocate. He smells of himself.
"Sometimes. When you are being far too expensive."
Funny. I haven't been drinking and still I've just heard: 'No, I don't. Never'. It must be my imagination. It has to.
I just realised that I'm in a really bad position – in a position of no control. I don't like it. I'm spreading my legs to gain two steady points touching the floor, but inadvertantly that causes me to straddle Roy. He tenses and the grip on me weakens; I manage to straighten, but I'm not tall enough to be looking in his eyes. Pity. I wonder if he's in pain now. Strangely, I don't want him to be.
"Aren't you going to tell me another horror-story?" he asks. I stop in the middle of motion.
"Do you… want me to? I could. As many horror-stories as you want. They're all here," I say, pointing at my head and looking up at him. He sighes, and that's the closest thing to weakness I've ever seen with the Flame Alchemist.
"I'm sorry, Edward. I'm sorry I didn't catch the earlier train. That I wasn't there an hour sooner. That I didn't stop you. That you had-"
"Stop. I-" I sigh, too. "Is that why you've been helping me? Us? Because you felt guilty?"
He doesn't answer and I hear: 'yes, at first it was that; and then so many other things'. And now the original motivation doesn't matter and it's all forgotten, all apart from the guilt that is eating on us day by day, every time we look at Alphonse and realise that the armour is in fact empty.
"What-"
"Stop. Neither of us… nevermind. Say what you want to, Roy Mustang. I am an old and tired person, one more tale won't bring me significantly further."
He laughes and I resign. Feels good just sitting on his lap and being embraced.
