Disclaimer: I don't own any of them. Not making any money from this. Love the idea of Ed and Roy. Please leave me a review if you like the story.
Chapter 32: But Not For Us
"Fear is a powerful motivator." Izzy stared morosely into the dying embers of the small fire they had built for warmth, her dark, ropey locks twisted up carelessly and pinned aside with a long quill that ended in a suspiciously sharp tip. Closer examination of the translucent hair ornament revealed that the end of the quill had been sealed with a bit of wax that prevented the pale pink liquid in the shaft of the quill from spilling out. On any other woman, merely decorative; on Izzy, most likely a weapon of some kind. "Humans are born with only two fears, did you know that? The fear of heights and the fear of loud noises. Everything else is learned. Even the fear of death." She shot the young blonde Gatekeeper a sidelong glare. "In exchange for our memories, our pasts, for who we were, Gatekeepers receive a blessing of sorts – we have all our fears unlearned for us. It is incumbent upon us not to relearn bad habits."
Auric nodded silently, his golden eyes glittering in the firelight. He had learnt very quickly that when Izzy fell into one of these pedantic moods, it was best to shut up and listen, or risk certain bodily harm. And Izzy had been a Gatekeeper for a long while – her insights were generally pithy, practical, and aimed at keeping you alive and useful to the Guild for as long as possible. Beside him Alp sprawled lazily on his stomach, toying with his amber beads as he watched the older female Gatekeeper lecture their new addition.
"One thing humans learn to fear very quickly is the unknown. The dark. Humans rely far more than they should on their sense of sight," and her sniff conveyed exactly what she thought of that. "A Gatekeeper should be able to operate even if blinded, though hearing and touch and smell – and feel. Same principle as teleportation or opening a Gate – it's all about balance. Always be aware of the energy currents around you. If you're careless, you're dead, and probably deserve to be," and without warning, she kicked over the glowing remains of the fire, plunging them into a shower of fiery sparks – and then darkness. A glint of starlight outlined the star of another sort that had suddenly appeared in her hand, and she flicked it with sure aim straight for Auric's head. Alp tensed as the eddying energy currents around him shifted, ready to snatch the weapon out of the air to protect Auric if necessary, but the novice Gatekeeper was already in motion. He trapped the projectile in the dense folds of his cloak with one arm, whirling gracefully in a deceptively unhurried motion even as the other arm whipped up underhand to let fly one of his own. Izzy moved her head fractionally to the side in the nick of time, and the throwing star flew by her ear and embedded itself in a hapless sapling. She stared through the shadowy dark at her newest protégé as her hair came uncoiled about her shoulders, the sharp edge of the weapon having sliced neatly through some of her locks, and he met her gaze imperturbably with his own aureate stare, rather like that of a cat on the hunt.
"Good," she said at last. "Now understand that there are many forms of fear, and that the psychological advantage you possess far outweighs any crude physical display of prowess. Fear is a weapon. Fear is a tool. Fear is leverage. Some say it is wrong to use it to manipulate another." Izzy smiled mirthlessly. "But we are Gatekeepers. The rules of others do not necessarily apply to us. And needs must where the devil drives."
Warrant Officer Hendricks slumped forward uncomfortably, wondering how long he had been in this cramped, airless room with the incredibly annoying Lieutenant Colonel Armstrong. He was almost afraid that the pink sparkles coming off the man might be seared permanently into his retinas if the interrogation went on for much longer, and spasms of pain racked his back as muscles protested at the cramped, unnatural position they were held in thanks to the manacles that bound his hands beneath the seat of the rickety chair. The State Alchemist sighed theatrically and leaned a little closer so that his small blue eyes, buried as they were in the pink folds of his face and adorned by the little yellow curl that hung perfectly centred between them, seemed to loom like large blue marbles floating before the prisoner's face.
"It wounds me to see you this way, it truly does. The honour code of the Armstrongs as transmitted down though the generations has always prescribed mercy upon thine enem…."
"Stuff it!" Hendricks spat, his pale eyes bloodshot and hunted. His teeth were bared like those of a cornered animal. "No more damned stories about your stuffed-shirt family! I don't give a rat's ass what your bloody code says. You're not getting anything else out of me, so why don't you just go work on some legendary Armstrong family technique for getting lost?"
Armstrong drew himself up to his full height, walrus moustache quivering vigorously, although it was hard to tell if it was with rage or hurt. He opened his mouth, but was interrupted by a soft tap at the door. Hendricks watched in vague uncaring surprise as the State Alchemist answered the summons, nodded at something the warrant officer couldn't quite hear, and then slipped out, shutting the door with a soft click that somehow had an air of finality about it. Probably gone for a drink or a piss, thought the man sourly, these soft types never could endure much hardship. He shifted about, rolling his head on his shoulders, wiggling his fingers, trying to get some blood into them, but it was hopeless and he soon sagged back into the curled up position he had been in for the past few hours. It had to be hours. Surely not days yet? You couldn't tell in this windowless room, lit as it was only by a bare yellow bulb dangling precariously from an exposed wire yanked partially from the ceiling. He wondered if the others really had talked. Wondered about whether General Hakuro was all right or if Mustang had already moved to neutralize the threat to his power. Wondered whether the General was even sparing a thought for the lowly warrant officer who had failed him so spectacularly, and a deep wave of shame washed over him.
Stop it. Stop it, you fool, that's what they want. They're leaving you in here to let you stew, let you hear the little voices of self-doubt in your mind. You've been trained better than this, and he shook his head sharply, wincing as strained shoulder muscles whimpered, yet welcoming the pain as a distraction from the nagging fear in his mind. He would show them. He would…wait, what was that sound? A strange buzz hovering on the fringes of audibility – it seemed to be coming from the light bulb in the ceiling, and he squinted up at it, puzzled. The glow from it seemed to be fading, and he could just make out the coiled filament inside the glass, now a burning dull orange. It sparked blindingly for a moment, then suddenly fizzled out with a snap and a tinkling of broken glass, leaving him in darkness, eyes wide. He could have sworn that in the instant before it had burned out, he had seen a dark, sinuous shape coiling about within and around the bulb. Almost like a snake, and he loathed the creatures, had ever since that one posting to Ishbal, where the reptiles were both plentiful and poisonous. A good friend of his had died, stepping on one of them by accident, and it was enough to make a man paranoid about putting on his boots in the morning in case one of the serpents had taken up residence in the dark warmth. It had become a bit of an obsession with him, snakes and other scaly things, enough for the military docs to have put a note in his file about it. Gods, he hated snakes!
Get a grip, he told himself firmly. Your eyes are tired, you're seeing things. Why would there be a snake in the light bulb? But that same fearful little voice whispered that it could have slithered down the wire from the ceiling, and a cold sweat prickled the back of his neck. Get a grip, damn it! But it was as though the dam of reason had finally cracked and an inexorable force was twisting at his bowels even as he struggled to regain a semblance of calm, tugging him off balance, making the hairs on his skin stand up.
A pleasantly low voice chuckled in the darkness. "Indeed, Warrant Officer Hendricks. Get a grip. Special Operations taught you better than that, didn't they?"
"Who's there?" he gasped, eyes straining to make out a shape in the darkness, but seeing nothing. Armstrong had left him alone in the room, and there was only one door, and he hadn't heard it open, and even if it had, he would have seen it, wouldn't he? Darkness was rarely absolute; what most people considered darkness was often a shifting palette of midnight blues and greys and purples, and if you were very, very good, you could just about see shapes in the darkness by the variation in tone. And he knew he was very, very good. So how the hell…and then an icy finger ran its quicksilver way down his spine as his mind suddenly realized something else. "How did you know what I was thinking?" And how the hell can he see me if I can't see him?
"Felt it," the voice drawled without elaboration, still laced with detached amusement. It seemed to be coming from the other end of the table, as though the speaker were seated in the chair Armstrong had vacated. But there had been no sound, no creak from the rickety chair to betray his presence.
He sneered reflexively. "Felt it? Who do you think you are, some kind of tinpot psychic or something? Is this some kind of new alchemic trick that Armstrong is trying? Because it won't work, you know," and he could hear the strained bravado in his own voice even as he fought off a sudden wave of nausea. Why did he feel so off-balance?
"Oh, never say never," the voice said reproachfully. "Ye of little faith. And no, Colonel Armstrong has nothing to do with this. Actually, he's waiting outside, quite nonplussed. Plausible deniability, you see," and the matter-of-factness with which the last was tossed off, as though the speaker fully expected Hendricks to understand the implications, made every nerve in the man's body quiver. He was basically being informed that the gloves had come off, and that this was no amateur interrogator he was facing.
"Who are you?"
"Who do you think I am?" and the voice was suddenly right by him, the speaker so close he could feel warm breath brush teasingly over the delicate shell of his ear. He started away, his heart pounding, his bound hands jerking up and yanking painfully on the chair, which wobbled dangerously, then settled down with a bone-jarring thump as an unseen hand caught and spun it around, taking Hendricks unwillingly with it. Chair and man came to rest tilted forward on two legs, leaving him nearly sliding off the seat, his face angled downwards, the manacles around his wrists the only thing keeping him from falling face down on the ground…because for some reason, his feet couldn't seem to reach the floor. He didn't know how the chair was staying balanced, but his arms felt like they were being torn out of their sockets as the weight of his body tugged remorselessly on them, the flimsy standard-issue chair creaking alarmingly with the strain.
"What the fuck?" Hadn't the chair been bolted to the floor just seconds ago? His legs kicked helplessly and found only empty air, and no matter how he strained, he couldn't seem to penetrate the darkness that engulfed him. Perhaps it was the blood rushing to his head as a consequence of his precarious position, but he was starting to see strange streaks and spots of colour before his eyes, and he couldn't quite suppress the shudder in his voice as he groped for something else to focus on. "Who the hell are you? What are you doing to me? So this is how your precious Flame Alchemist operates? Should have expected nothing less from that corrupt bastard! General Hakuro was right, he's going to destroy the country!"
Silence greeted him. His breathing was harsh in his ears, and sweat stung his eyes. "Say something, God damn you!"
When the voice finally answered him, it was coming from somewhere in front of him, and he lifted his head desperately and peered into the darkness beyond dark. "I haven't laid a hand on you yet, Warrant Officer. And your god has no place here. Three's a crowd, and we're just having a conversation." And then, as politely as if it were asking him how he was enjoying the weather, "Are you afraid of Alchemists?"
"You wish." It was a snarl born of deep dread, and he knew the other could hear it, because there was a good-natured laugh that did nothing to reassure him.
"And well you should be. We're the closest things to gods there are. What is it they always say? 'Let there be light?'…."
Humans are born with only two fears. The fear of heights and the fear of loud noises.
There was a sudden loud clap that echoed throughout the room and Hendricks jumped and moaned as a blinding blue light burst into existence, temporarily blinding him as he blinked painfully, tears streaming down his face. He forced his eyes towards the source of the crackling energy and felt his stomach turn as his interrogator was revealed. Cloaked and slight of build. Blonde and pony-tailed, long bangs framing feral golden eyes that glowed in the flickering light as though they were themselves a source of energy, white-gloved hands held up before him as if he were admiring the alchemic power he held so casually in his palms. A silver watch chain gleamed on his distinctively non-standard-issue belt. The warrant officer felt his mouth going dry. No uniform…no arrays that he could see….
"You're the Fullmetal Alchemist!"
The young man smiled winningly, the friendly expression strangely at odds with the eerie blue light cast on his face by the alchemic energy in his hands. "I know. Someone has to be. Don't look down now, Warrant Officer."
He did. And screamed as he realized that the chair was somehow balanced on two legs above a yawning blackness that seemed to have no bottom. A sudden howling gust of wind screamed up from the darkness beneath him and made his chair teeter perilously, seesawing forwards and backwards in a jerky oscillation, carrying with it the hissing, rasping sound of serpents somewhere down below crawling over each other, eager for some fresh prey. His mind went blank as his world narrowed to that gaping abyss and fear coiled itself around his bowels and squeezed.
Edward Elric grinned lazily, a wolfish smile that curled slowly about his lips. "Told you not to look." He knelt and slapped a hand to the ground, drawing a stool up from it with a nonchalance that suggested he did that six times before breakfast on a daily basis and could probably do it in his sleep if he needed to. "Now that we're both comfortably seated…let's have a little chat, just you and I."
Hendricks whimpered as the dark closed in again.
Needs must where the devil drives.
"You all right?" Alp asked gently as the two of them strode down the meandering path away from the ugly stone fortress. The duo had just…persuaded the local leader to cease and desist from his campaign of aggression against a neighbouring province – it was bad enough they were at war with outsiders, but civil unrest at the same time was not a viable option for winning a war, in the Guild's opinion, and they had a vested interest in being on the winning side, after all. Alp had allowed Auric to take the lead, figuring that the new Gatekeeper needed the experience, and the novice had acquitted himself impressively – the pompous, posturing minor warlord had been practically abasing himself in his eagerness to agree to the Guild's demands and get the Gatekeepers to leave. Auric was displaying a distinct lack of enthusiasm over the successful outcome, however, falling into a morose silence the moment they were outside the keep's walls, and Alp was worried about his new partner, who he was beginning to feel a certain amount of protective brotherly affection for.
"Yes. No. I don't know." Auric sighed in frustration. "It's just…it feels wrong, tinkering with people's willpower – I mean, it's one thing to threaten, but we're actually changing something inside them when we manipulate the elements in their nature." His eyes were dull and troubled. "Aren't we supposed to be working for the good of all?"
Alp frowned – he had suspected that this would be the hardest thing for Auric to accept. Every new Gatekeeper went through this. You either got over it or…well…Gatekeepers never were renowned for their long lives. Hesitation was what got you killed, most times. You started to second-guess yourself, then you lost control of the elements you were manipulating while opening a Gate, and then it was all over in a two-for-one deal since the Gatekeeper on the other end of the Gatestream almost always died as well. "The Guild works for the greater good, Auric, and for its own survival. The good of the many must outweigh the good of the few, or the one. That warlord was a 'one'. All the people who will live because you made him stop his pointless warmongering are a 'many'. It's practical. It's politics. We can't save everyone, you know."
"Yes, but how do we know we're right? What if we're just making things worse?" Auric folded his arms mutinously over his chest and glared up at his partner. "We're meddling with the natural order of things."
"We well might be, but at least we're doing it for the right reasons. Ends and means." Auric looked at his partner dubiously, and the taller Gatekeeper shrugged philosophically. "Auric, we're meddling every time we open a Gate, for crying out loud. Yes, it's true that we were acting as influencers back there when we tampered with his qi. And it's also true that influence is power, and that power is a burden. It brings responsibilities with it. So it's a good thing to be questioning your actions and motivations – it keeps you honest. But don't let it make you doubt yourself. A Gatekeeper doesn't have that luxury."
"No one asked us to take on the burden of fixing the world," Auric muttered.
"Doesn't change the facts," Alp pointed out in a conciliatory manner. "Fate is. We can but change how we deal with it; it is ultimately your choice to assume the burden of responsibility associated with that power. How would you feel if that little land-hungry warlord had sacked a couple more villages, knowing you could have done something to stop it?"
Golden eyes flicked away to the ground for a moment, then back to up meet clear grey ones. "Do you believe we did the right thing?" Auric asked softly.
Alp regarded his partner soberly. "I do." He clapped a hand on Auric's shoulder. "We made a choice. And perhaps to some ways of thinking, we crossed a line back there. But that is the burden we carry as Gatekeepers, that others might not have to do the same." He hesitated and added, not unkindly, "It is the ironic truth at the core of our existence, that we maintain the balance in this world - and are yet ourselves always set apart from it. The world is saved…but not for us. The sooner you accept that, the easier it will be."
Auric stared fixedly at the ground for a moment, then let out a long sigh. "I know."
"Auric," and the young man looked up inquiringly. His partner grinned encouragingly at him. "Remember this: as long as the Guild exists, you do not shoulder this burden alone."
And the golden-haired Gatekeeper finally smiled. "I know, Alp. I know."
The gentle tap at the door roused Hakuro immediately. He had only been waiting for it most of the night, after all, and he had to force his face into a suitably sleepy-eyed expression of irritation as he shuffled towards the door, yawning to give the impression of a man who had just been awakened from a deep sleep. Don't look expectant, he reminded himself, you don't know anything about the Flame Alchemist's untimely demise yet, remember? He opened the door fully expecting to see a couple of sombre-eyed officers as he schooled his features to annoyed surprise…and then struggled to keep a genuine expression of dismay from his face as he cast about for something intelligent to say.
"Um…I…what…Fullmetal Alchemist. What brings you to my door at this hour?" The younger man raised an elegant brow at the spluttering General. He even acts like the Flame, thought the grey-haired man in confusion, an impression only reinforced by the languid drawl that fell from the blonde alchemist's lips.
"Hello, General. Long time no see. May I come in? We have matters to discuss in private," and the tone of his voice made it clear that it wasn't a request. Hakuro bristled instinctively at being spoken to in this cavalier manner and drew himself up with all the authority of his rank, intending to dress down the presumptuous pup – State Alchemist or not, he was still outranked and should be more respectful of his superiors! – but found himself wavering as Ed fixed his gaze on his face. It was the strangest feeling, as though the wall of resistance he was attempting to muster was crumbling away under a warm wash of energy that seemed to emanate from the slight young man slouched casually on his doorstep, gloved hands in pockets. Ed smiled, but the expression did not reach his eyes. "We can do this the easy way or the hard way, General. For your family's sake, I'd choose the former. But you'd best decide quickly – my men are less than fifteen minutes away, and that option will be off the table once they get here."
"Come in," Hakuro said mechanically, opening the door, even the most token flicker of resistance drowned in the rising tide of numbness that was seeping into his mind. He didn't even have the energy to wonder why. "We can talk in my study." He turned to lead the way, and so could not see the odd mix of disgust, anger, pity – and guilt that crossed the face of the Fullmetal Alchemist as he followed close behind, treading so lightly his feet left no trace of his passing on the plush carpet.
Ten minutes later soldiers were pounding at the door, led by one Captain Jean Havoc.
Thirty seconds after that, they burst into the study just as a gunshot echoed through the house, followed shortly by hysterical wailing.
And back at Central HQ, Lieutenant Colonel Edward Elric received the tragic news that General Hakuro had shot himself in his study with every appearance of consternation and regret that such a distinguished officer should have stooped to treason against the Fuhrer-elect, but was much heartened by the fact that the General had, in the end, seen the error of his ways after receiving news that his accomplices had confessed, and had opted for an honourable death by his own sidearm, in full uniform, after hastily writing and signing a full confession absolving his family of any knowledge or participation in his scheme to assassinate the Fuhrer-elect and Flame Alchemist Roy Mustang. He instructed Major Riza Hawkeye to have the appropriate condolences and flowers sent to the Hakuro family with assurances that the General's pension would still be paid to his wife for the rest of her days. He commended Captain Havoc on the swiftness of his execution and dispatched a second platoon to assist in impounding the General's personal effects as evidence, as well as in rounding up the rest of the little cabal behind the heinous plot. He penned a very brief memo to Brigadier General Maes Hughes opining that the threat to the Fuhrer-elect had been successfully neutralized and recommended commendations for all involved. He thought about writing one to the Fuhrer-elect himself, and decided that the bastard could learn to wait for a report for once. Then he left the office and went and found a quiet bench in one of the outdoor gardens around HQ and watched the stars slowly vanish and the sun come up on a red dawn, and that was where Major Alphonse Elric found him an hour later when he came to bring news that their services were required immediately up north, golden eyes staring blankly, hands loosely clasped before him and his face pale and set in the cold light of morning.
"Brother?"
"Hey, Al."
"Are you all right? You didn't get hurt rescuing General Mustang, did you?"
"No, Al, I'm fine." And then with a bleak smile, "Can't say the same for Hakuro though."
"He chose his own path, brother. It's not like you made him do it," Al offered phlegmatically. His brother winced at that for some reason.
"Hey, Al?"
"Yes, brother?"
"Have you ever done something you…never mind." Al frowned, then sat down beside his brother and waited patiently. Ed shifted slightly. "Do you ever feel…I don't know…like you're utterly alone?"
"Brother. Look at me." Ed dragged his eyes away from the horizon and met his brother's serene gaze. The Earth Moving Alchemist grinned encouragingly. "I could never feel alone, because I have you. And you'll always have me too. Even if I can't understand everything you're going through, even if you can't – or won't - tell me about it right away…I'm always going to be here to listen."
And Ed finally smiled, and a little light came back into his eyes, though a sadness yet lingered about the lines of his mouth. "I know, Al. I know." And Al, ever the tactful one, said nothing else as he leaned a little into his brother's arm, letting him know he was there.
"I don't understand," Roy said softly, his voice pitched low and soothing, not wanting to disturb Ed any further than was necessary. The blonde alchemist's gaze was turned inwards, eyes cast blankly on the rumpled sheets as he slowly peeled back the layers of memory, and Roy was hesitant to break the spell. "What happens when you act as an influencer?"
Ed's eyes rose slowly from the bed, but they were still disturbingly empty as they drifted to a point on the wall just behind Roy's shoulder, and the Flame Alchemist had to fight down the urge to turn and check if there was something behind him. "Qi lines run throughout the fabric of every living thing. Stabilizing the five elements…it's how we teleport, it's how we open Gates…it's how we influence other people, if all else fails. Everyone's made up of a delicate balance of five elements…you tamper with that balance, you tamper with who someone is. You can feel your way into another's will and bend it to your own." Ed's chin came up, his face emerging into the moonlight streaming in the window as he met Roy's gaze, and Roy caught his breath, because in an instant it wasn't Ed sitting there but Auric, keen-eyed and knowing, searching Roy's face for understanding. "Your particular element, for instance. Fire. Drive, ambition, passion. But all it takes to tip the balance, to damp the flame, is a little water…" and Roy gasped as he felt an odd numbness begin to creep into his mind, clutching tendrils of fog that blurred sight and drew him insistently into a state of dulled awareness even as he fought to stay alert, "…or an absence of air…" and the fog was abruptly gone, replaced by an unreasoning panic as though he were slowly smothering, his mouth gone dry as the air seemed to rush out of his lungs. He struggled mightily against the feeling, and then with a sudden wrenching sensation, as though a hood were being ripped of his face, the feeling was gone, and someone was kneeling before him, one hand on his shoulder and another gripping Roy's chin almost painfully as he peered worriedly into Roy's face, tipping it brusquely this way and that. "Roy. Come on, bastard, snap out of it. Roy. Roy, are you all right? How do you feel?"
"Like an insane alchemist is trying to take my head off," Roy finally rasped out, throat dry. "What the hell did you do?"
The younger man dropped his hands and sat back on his haunches with a sigh of guilt and relief. "I'm sorry. I didn't know how else to show you what it means. You'd be a hard nut to crack for most though…I've rarely had to deal with anyone who resisted that much."
"You managed," Roy pointed out, taking a deep breath and willing the hammering beneath his ribs to stop. The power commanded by the young man before him would have terrified him were it not for the fact that he trusted its wielder implicitly.
A flash of fang. "I'm not most Gatekeepers."
"Is that what you did to Hakuro? And Hendricks? Did you…" and Roy couldn't finish the sentence.
"Fear is a powerful lever, Mustang. And as for Hakuro, I merely pointed out his options…and pointed him in the right direction. We're influencers…the person ultimately has to choose for himself. As you've demonstrated, it is possible to resist, and it is possible to break free of the influence." And with a fatalistic shrug, Auric slipped away like quicksilver, and it was Ed bending his head forward so that his loose hair fell about his face, hiding his expression as he drew his knees to his chest and wrapped his arms around them. "But yes, I did…stack the deck a little. It had to be done. And at least my way, his family will still be cared for. You know they would have been disgraced and left penniless if he had been court-martialed and executed, or killed while resisting arrest." Ed's mouth twisted wryly. "Not to mention…Maes's propaganda machine found the handwritten confession of guilt fine fodder, did it not?"
Roy shook his head, stunned. He had suffered his share of sleepless nights and guilty dreams over the many people and situations he had manipulated as he traversed the labyrinthine path that had led him here to this day on which he was to become Fuhrer. The Fullmetal Alchemist had been a part of many of those schemes, both willingly and unwillingly. But this new burden the young man bore was far greater than his own. "Ed…it's not…."
"Not my fault?" and Roy could not tell who it was gazing at him out of those glowing golden eyes, Auric, or Edward, or someone else entirely. "Don't. That only makes it worse. At least let me have this: that I chose this. My choice. My responsibility alone." His voice dropped to a register that made Roy's throat ache in sympathy. "The day I stop taking responsibility for it is the day I lose my conscience. And I'd rather die than become a power-crazed madman."
"Fine," Roy said sharply. "Your choice. Your responsibility. But you do not shoulder this burden alone." Ed started in surprise at the familiar words, and Roy pressed on urgently, needing Ed to understand, willing Ed not to shut him out. "Think about it. Why did you choose to do what you did?"
"It needed to be done," Ed said softly. "It was the only way to ensure your safety. No one will try to touch you now, not for a while at least, and certainly not while I'm with you." If you still want me with you now that you know this, his defensive posture screamed to Roy's trained eye, and the dark-haired man shook his head in disbelief.
"In other words, you did it for me." A reluctant nod. "And you don't think that makes it my responsibility as well? Ed…Hakuro was a sacrifice. Your choice was a sacrifice. I don't know that I deserve it, but I'm damned well going to do my best to ensure those sacrifices weren't in vain." He reached out cautiously, coaxing Ed into his arms, settling the young man against his chest and tucking the blonde head under his chin as he tried to caress away the quivering tension running through the taut lines of Ed's body. "I made you a promise that I would change this world. I intend to keep it. For all the innocent in it, and for those yet to come."
Ed's lips were pressed tightly together as he murmured, "The world is saved…but not for us."
"No," Roy agreed, holding him close. "But we have each other, and in that there is a separate peace." And Ed turned in his arms and kissed him, and he knew that Ed understood.
