Thank you all so much for reviewing! Now, here we are- the escape, part two of two! I have a bad cold, so, to be honest, did not proofread one last time before I posted it... sorry ;-; I promise I'll be back on my game soon!
Once again, Ed found himself wishing for both his arms.
This time, not for any practical reason, like managing as a capable, functioning adult instead of a cripple, or just to be able to rub his face and scratch his nose while holding on to Roy to walk, or just for the simple fucking fact that he was a human being and meant to have two arms and not just one.
This time, he wanted it so he could properly cover his ears, and block out the screams.
He couldn't look any more. He'd watched Roy drop to his knees, hunching forwards to let out an unearthly howl the split second he'd crossed that line. He'd watched the man drag himself past it anyway, inching across the floor in a pitiful, agonized journey to huddle up in on himself and scream. He'd watched him curl up on himself, cry out in agony, and bleed.
He couldn't look anymore.
But he could still hear, and hear, he did. Turned violently away, arm wrapped as tight as it would go around himself and head buried in his knee, he still heard.
Heard every, single, wretched whine, strangled cry, and anguished shout of pain.
He sounded like he was dying.
"Please," Ed whispered. "...Please."
It was too soft to be heard underneath the screams, the muffled, weak croak against his knee, and he crumpled in on himself with a strangled sob.
"Please don't leave me here alone!"
"Ahh... h-hah- ahhh- AHHH- AHHHHHHHHH!"
Ed choked again.
Please...
Roy screamed until he ran out of breath; writhed and kicked until he ran out of strength. He fought until all he could do was just lie there, and try not to die- and Ed kept himself firmly turned away, eyes shut and wishing dearly he could even just cut his own ears off, because even that would be better than hearing this.
For a while, that was all there was.
Ragged, hitched breathing behind him, and Ed... praying.
Please.
Please. If there is any kind of god at all... benevolent, malevolent, some neutral asshole just watching as we spiral into destruction, I don't care- just please, god. If anyone can hear me, please.
Please don't let him die.
But in the end, there was no god. There was just him and Roy, and no one could help them but themselves. And in the end, the one to reach out to him wasn't a god...
Because that cold hand that finally landed on his side was shaking, human, and very much alive.
Ed froze.
"Hey," Roy rasped from behind him, and let out something that just might've been a laugh.
Breath caught painfully in his lungs, hardly daring to believe it, Ed spun around.
Roy lay there just across the barrier, still splayed uncomfortably on his side, and by the puddle of the blood growing underneath him, not doing well at all. But he was alive. Alive and smiling, smiling at him, a weak struggling like smirk as he dropped his hand tiredly back to the floor, sweat shining on his face and exhaustion shadowing his eyes and pain etched into every line of his face, but- but-
"I'm still alive," he coughed dryly, and smirked again.
For a moment, Ed was too stunned to do anything at all.
Then, joy blossomed in his chest like a warm flower, and it was all he could do to not just start crying here and now.
"Bastard!"
"Yep," he chuckled again, "still here." He winced, dragging his gaze away from him as he struggled to sit up; lean gingerly against the wall. Every single inch of motion made him grit his teeth or gasp, and by the blood smearing in his wake, Ed could only guess the tattoo on his back had been torn or burned straight off. The very idea of it made him gulp and he pulled an inch back away from the line, suddenly acutely aware of the ink besmirching his own skin.
As if noticing his reaction, Roy suddenly grew more stoic, the pain mostly washing away from his drained face as he inched up a little more against the wall, clearly forcing another smile. "So I guess it doesn't kill us." He shuddered through another wave of pain but somehow managed to keep his smile on the whole time. "Come on." He held out a trembling hand, gesturing for Ed to join him. "Come on, Fullmetal. Let's get out of here."
And once again, Ed just... froze.
...What?
Just- crawl over that line, and join him?
That simple, was it?
"No," he blurted out, before his head could catch up with his mouth.
Roy stopped, his smile slipping. "...What?"
Ed find himself balking, swallowing hard as terror swept through him from head to toe. "I just- I mean-" He inched away again, mouth abruptly dry as a bone. "We can- find another way, can't we? We can look around, there's got to be something else- or we- I don't have to go right now, really, bastard, we can try and figure out another way first- we just-"
"Fullmetal."
Suddenly, Roy was there again, pale hand touching his but the man still not moving back over the line with him. Ed stared at it instead of his face, heart pounding so hard he felt abruptly sick. "Fullmetal," he said again, pulling just enough to coax him forwards. "It'll be all right."
He swallowed again, but his throat was so dry and his nerves so frayed he wanted to throw up. "I... I know that. ...I'm just saying- I-..."
How was he supposed to just... do it?
When he'd seen what he'd done to Roy...
It made him a pathetic coward, he knew that.
But he did not want to do it.
"Don't worry," he heard, and he'd never understand how even then Roy somehow managed to sound steady and unafraid. "You'll make it. You can do this, Fullmetal." The assurance barely touched him underneath the roiling terror, and Roy tried again, slipping even closer to him over the blood. "Nothing's going to go wrong."
"...You don't know that." He shut his eyes, shuddering. Because Roy didn't know that. Roy had barely made it through at all- what if it was worse for him?! What if-
"I do, Fullmetal. Because if something tries to go wrong, I won't let it."
A startled, terrified sort of hysterical laugh ripped its way out of his throat- because it was impossibly ridiculous. What the hell was Roy going to do, if he was bleeding and yelling on the floor and something went wrong? Just sit there and not let it? "You're an arrogant idiot," he choked, shaking.
"And you have to trust me."
Terror rolled through him again- terror, alongside just a hint of the tingling agony that was soon to light up in his back.
"Fullmetal, please." Roy reached even further over the line, stretching his arm as far as it would go- for him. "You have to do this. I know it'll hurt and I'm sorry, but you have to. You have to! Please!" Strong, steady fingers curled warmly around his shoulder, edging him just a little closer, and for a moment the shadow of physical pain was erased, overtaken by distraught regret as Roy begged him to lower himself into hell. "Come on, Fullmetal. Come on, just a little bit more. You've survived until so long, you made it through this place on your own, you've done so much- you can't just give up now! You have to keep going- just a little more! Come on, you promised me you'd help me find my blue. You can't do that from over there, Fullmetal!"
His grip tightened and Ed gasped reflexively, desperately wishing to shrink back but too frozen to do it. Roy's impassioned pleas stuck like lead in his gut, the call back to the easily given promise that suddenly felt like a lifetime ago too much to take. When he'd made that promise it had been nothing... of course he would help Roy find his home; they'd find Al and blue together, he could no sooner leave Roy to look by himself than he could forget about Al- but that had been when the only standing between them and that future had been a doorway.
Not... this.
I can't... oh god, I can't...
"Fullmetal." Terrified desperation drove home, and his gaze was jerked right off the bloody floor to meet Roy's again. Roy, who look absolutely, utterly horrified with himself with what he was asking him to do- but was still doing it. He was still in pain, cold sweat trickling down his face and his fingers trembling with something far more base than fear, barely with the strength to remain upright but there he still was. Hand held out, fingers outstretched, and dark, strained eyes pleading with him to do this.
"Don't leave me here, bastard."
He hadn't meant to say it aloud. Hadn't even really thought it, but that terror was still there and he shut his eyes at the vocal realization of it, heart stabbed with anguished fear that nearly killed him.
Oh, god, don't leave me here alone.
Roy didn't even hesitate.
"Never."
And that was what did it.
Because it wasn't a lie. Roy would stay here with him for as long as this took- the man could get up and leave right now, never look back, and find his blue- but he'd stay here in this hellish prison, for him. He'd stay. And if Ed couldn't do it... if he just couldn't drag himself over that line... Roy would still stay. He'd come back here, join him, and they'd find another way.
He wouldn't leave him, no matter what.
Somehow, that was enough.
Ed looked into Roy's eyes, held out his hand, and allowed himself to be pulled towards freedom, Al, and Roy's arms.
The sounds coming out of his mouth were not screams.
Choked whimpers of agony, yes. Muffled, bursted cries born in fear and nourished in despair. Gasps of failing strength. Anguished whines. Heartwrenching, whispered wails.
But he didn't scream, because first and foremost, the kid was a stubborn brat, and just simply wouldn't let himself.
Roy thought he would've preferred if he had.
At least then, he wouldn't be faced with the heartbreaking sight of him trying so hard, even now, to stay strong, when he just had nothing left to stay strong for.
It was hard to move at all, but he'd somehow pulled himself over to where he'd collapsed, a slumped and writhing mass on the blood sticky floor. The kid wasn't aware of him at all; surely beyond reason at this point, but Roy hadn't been able to just sit there silently and watch him suffer- he had no idea how Ed had done it when their positions had been swapped. But it didn't matter how Ed had done it; all that mattered was that Roy didn't have to.
He'd weakly hauled the kid into his lap, and there he lay still now, curled up and trembling. His long hair hid his face, head pressed against his stomach just hard enough to tear at his newly ruined back but he didn't have the heart to pull away. A fist bunched in his pant leg and Ed clenched a wad of his shirt between his teeth, likely not even aware of it beyond that it gave him something to bite down on and desperately control the pain. Hand shaking, Roy swallowed the frantic sorrow welling in his throat as he risked reaching down to Ed's shirt, lifting it up just enough to for him to see.
His jaw clenched.
The tattoo was being burned off.
It was just what he'd feared... but in a way, even worse.
Because while their brands were technically the same size... Ed was much smaller than he was.
While Roy's injuries stretched over made a quarter, surely less than half of his back, Ed's were going to cover all of his.
Another terrified shout of pain sent pure misery down his spine like knives, and Roy shut his eyes and let the kid's shirt back down.
"Shh," he whispered, helpless, useless. He rubbed his tense, shaking arm gently, painstakingly careful not to stray too near his shoulder; the tattoo reached up even that high. "It's okay, Fullmetal. Just a little longer."
He gasped and shook, blood weeping from the newly sizzling skin, and said nothing.
There was nothing Roy could do except let himself be held on to. So he just sat there, held him steady, and hoped that it would be enough. He kept on rubbing his arm, trying to ease away the tension until the inevitable spasms racked through him again, cries torn from his lips and body jerking miserably in his lap. "It's okay," he whispered again, stroking his hair helplessly. "It's okay... you're okay."
It might've been awkward, it might've once felt wrong, but this was all he had. He had to give something; couldn't stand to just sit here and watch, but he felt so ineffectual and worthless, just holding him like this and whispering words that meant nothing, but...
It was all he had.
It was another strangled sort of cry against his stomach, a horrendous, wailing thing, and Roy's heart clenched, anguish stabbing him through the gut. He so gingerly moved Ed even closer, letting him clutch on to his shirt and bury his head against his stomach, hot blood trailing down to stain his pants and searing into his soul. He felt like some kind of monster, dragging him forwards to face this, and bowed his head, squeezing his eyes shut.
"Please," he whispered, palm resting soothingly- he hoped- on the back of his head. "Please just hang on."
He held Ed steady, steady as he could. With every spasm he kept him still, with every shout he shushed him. He sat there and held Ed close and waited... and with every miserable gasp of pain, his own breaths hitched, and his heart constricted in agonized sorrow.
It took minutes. Long, horrible minutes, and he felt each individual second, how long they took to tick by and how many times Ed cried out in the otherwise strangling quiet. He counted each hard fought breath and felt each scream, torn out against his abdomen. It took so long he almost died himself, scarcely breathing and unable to even move, save for the hand gently mussing his hair...
But finally, the worst of the agony passed.
He didn't realize it at first. Ed remained collapsed over his legs, and if any move was made to withdraw from pillowing his head against his stomach, it was too weak to see. But at some point, Roy realized his breaths were exhausted rather than strained and miserable, and the previous muffled cries had faded into slow, intermittent whimpers.
"Fullmetal?" he whispered, fingers slowing in his hair.
Ed didn't react for several moments, horribly still and only moving for each careful, measured breath. At last, Roy felt him breathe out harshly against him, fingers clutching just a hint tighter against his pants. "I'm tired," came the exhausted, agonized mumble.
Roy went still, his heart falling.
The burns were massive. Again, most technically, his wounds were the same size as Ed's- but he was much bigger than Ed. It felt worse to Ed than him... and Ed had also lost more blood than him.
A lot more.
"...I know," he whispered, and shut his eyes. It was just a second too late, to stop something warm and wet from trailing down his cheek.
Ed didn't move or speak again. Roy took a moment and just let himself be inundated in grief, crushed down with the devastation and exhaustion that this wasn't the end yet, that they still had to keep fighting, because god he just wanted it to be over. If it hadn't been for Ed, he wasn't sure if he'd be able to even make himself get up at all.
But Ed was there, and he needed him.
"Fullmetal," he said again, and when his voice shuddered and tried to crack he just took a breath and forced it steady. He gripped his hand, holding it as tightly as he could. "I'm going to help you onto my back. All you have to do is hold on. Can you do that? Do you think you can do that?"
Ed tensed, trying to curl up until the tiny motion made him gasp with the pain. "Bastard..." he tried, half-lidded eyes struggling open.
"We're getting out of here, Fullmetal- right now. I promise."
He moaned again, heavy head falling slack against his leg. "Can't... c-can't walk..."
"I know." Forgoing getting an answer for his question, Roy very gingerly began to shift, trying to keep Ed as still as possible as he maneuvered around so the kid was lying on the floor at his back. "I'll walk for you, but you have to get on my back. Just wrap your arm around me and hold on, okay? Don't worry about the rest."
Ed somehow roused a little, lifting his head up of the bloody floor to stare at him with wide, horrified eyes. "N-no..." he rasped, reaching out a trembling hand. "It'll... it'll hurt you..."
"...Yeah. It will." Because what was the point in lying, when Ed would know what the truth was? "So, when we're out of here, and you've found Al, I'll be sure to show you my scars and say, 'here. This one's cause of you'. But first, we have to get out of here. And this is the only way for that, Fullmetal."
He hesitated for a few moments longer, still curled up and miserable on the ground, but Roy had held his voice steady and painless and, the fact that he was above all else, right, was finally enough to convince him. Very slowly, each move punctuated with sharp gasps or cries of pain, Ed managed to work himself up to sit. His hand was hesitant at first as it found his shoulder, shaking and barely touching, but as he wrapped his arm around his neck his grip slowly tightened... though it was only too plain to see how the kid was still leaning back away from him.
Precariously touching any part of his burned back.
Well, Ed was just going to have to get over it, he thought firmly as he grabbed the kid's arm, holding him there tightly, took a deep breath, and stood up.
Oh, hell.
For a moment, his own pain eclipsed everything else. His vision went white and his knees nearly buckled, gut rising up and leaving him in a struggle just to keep his stomach contents where they belonged. Ed had been forced to cling to him, hold on tight or just drop off and hit the ground so he'd clutched on- and fucking hell, a kid latched on like glue to the deep burns spread over his back had to have been some of the worst pain he'd ever experienced in his life.
Ed whimpered quietly by his ear, fingers digging so deeply into his shoulder his fingernails scratched, and Roy shut his eyes, took another deep breath, and forced himself steady.
"...You okay?" he managed in a whisper, when he'd finally regained his voice.
Ed mumbled something incoherently, still clinging to him desperately. His one leg lifted, wrapping around his stomach for another grip to keep himself holding on, and Roy winced, wishing there was any other way. But then Ed managed to raise his head up off his shoulder, just a bit, and rasp, "H-how come... you can stand... and I can't?"
His heart shuddered again, and the blood soaking into his clothes, some his, most of it Ed's, suddenly felt very, very cold.
"Because you're shorter," he rasped, with a smile he didn't feel and a squeeze to his hand that he did, and turned and walked straight out of the prison.
They may not have known anything beyond the little psychiatric ward they'd been imprisoned in for so long, but even in his current state it was easy enough for Roy to stumble through the hallway and make it, finally, down to the stairs. He paused, both for breath and for the chance to try and figure out his location, and started to read the list that spelled out all the floors in the building.
0: Morgue
1: Admissions
2: Cardiology
3: Psychiatric...
He scowled, still breathing hard. So this actually was a hospital, then. And according to this, on the third floor... damn.
So their escape was only halfway begun.
Roy took another ragged breath, struggling to keep his head clear, then just shook himself and headed for the stairs. His body cried out to just go to the god damn elevator, but his instincts screamed even louder that it wasn't safe. They had to avoid as many people as possible. If anyone saw them... if that doctor saw them...
The scratched array on the palm of his hand tingled, and in that moment, Roy swore that if anyone tried to stand between him, Ed, and freedom, he would use that monster again, and kill them.
Roy would never understand how he made it down the stairs without toppling. He didn't remember much of the journey later, surely a good thing; by the time he reached the first floor he was a panting, sweaty mess, knees quaking and barely able to remain on his feet. But freedom beckoned and called, a beautiful blue freedom where Al was, so he sagged against the wall only for as long as he had to, fighting desperately to steady out his breathing again... and the moment it was, he powered through the door.
He froze.
People. People everywhere.
In reality, it was a big room and only sparsely populated, surely a function of the late hour, but after months of tiny cramped spaces and every single person's existence aside from Ed's dedicated to keep him trapped and hurt, he just- he panicked. He stumbled a step back, driven to run or at least press himself back against the wall and hide, but he could do neither. There were so many people milling about, all dressed as doctors or nurses- and it was so loud-
And there, across the room, was the front door.
Roy's breath caught in his chest.
There it was. Just... right there. Unguarded. Not even locked. Just right there. Just a room away...
Through the glass, for the first time he could ever remember seeing it, was the night sky.
His heart abruptly swelled, and he felt so light on his feet he could've flown.
Panic was beaten back by pure, unadulterated desire.
"Fullmetal," he whispered, unable to help himself. His voice rose in childish excitement and he squeezed his hand again, nearly trembling in amazement. "Fullmetal, look!"
When the high-pitched intake of breath rasped by his ear, the kid reflexively gripping him so tight he might've screamed if he hadn't been so joyful, he knew he'd seen it, too.
Roy gripped his hand again, yanking himself to stand upright no matter the pain and facing freedom with everything that he had. The space before him might as well have been a minefield but he'd march straight through, face it like the soldier he felt like and charge to bring this boy on his back home. To bring himself home. "We're getting out of here," he promised, whether to himself or Ed, he didn't know, and began to move.
His stride was straight and confident, heavy deadweight on his screaming back or no. His heart hammered eagerly in his chest, nearly strangling him in its desperation. So close, so close... he veered right, taking them away from a gaggle of nurses that sent his pulse skyrocketing again, then back onto his original path. It was so close. He could almost taste the fresh air, the freedom. Right there- he could almost reach it-
A nurse stepped right in front of his path.
It was sheer instinct to veer away. To press his thumb even closer to the circle. To hold Ed tighter.
But when he tried to step towards their freedom again, the nurse followed him.
No.
NO.
His thumb inched even closer to his circle, and he sucked in a breath, preparing to activate it.
I will kill you before you touch us.
But she didn't move to touch them, instead just frowning at them both with a wary, guarded sort of frown, one that radiated suspicion and left Roy's insides twisting off into knots. No. Was she really such a fool as to test him? He'd killed those guards in his room in an instant. Tied down to a bed, drugged and beaten, only the freedom to press his thumb to his palm- and he'd slaughtered them all without breaking a sweat. He'd kill her. If she so much as looked at Ed the wrong way, he'd-
"Sir, why are you carrying a patient? And you need to change, immediately." One manicured nail pointed at him up and down, judgmental reproach contorting her stern features. "You know it's not protocol to walk around covered in blood... What did you even do to get in such a mess, anyway?"
For a moment, murmured underneath the black fury and terror coursing through him like ice, Roy was stunned. Well. Excuse him for daring to bleed from his injuries. He supposed he should've just stitched them close himself, then? And never mind that; this was what she chose to comment on? Clandestine jailbreak, the both of them probably bleeding to death- and oh, the most crucial thing to comment on here was protocol?
Then, he realized.
His clothes.
He was dressed as a nurse.
She doesn't realize...
He might've laughed with giddy relief, had he not still been so terrified and strained and such a precious weight hadn't been on his back. She thought he was a nurse. She thought the blood was someone else's. She thought he was carrying Ed- dressed as a patient- back to his room... not right out the front door.
She had no idea who they were.
His thumb remained precariously close to the circle, and he still remained prepared to strike the very moment it was deemed necessary.
But I can talk my way out of this. I have to try, at least.
The sight of those three guards, dead before they'd even realized, flickered through his mind again, and he swallowed.
I have to try.
"I'm sorry," he intoned, very stiffly, and felt Ed tense against him. Desperately, he tried to convey his intentions with just another squeeze of his hand. Please stay quiet. Please just stay still and trust me. I promise, I won't let them get to you again. "I was going to change after I delivered this patient back to his room. He's... not especially a fan of wheelchairs."
Well, it was true.
However, the woman appeared decidedly unimpressed by that answer, because she frowned at him again, glower darkening. "It doesn't matter whether he's a fan or not; we can't go around giving piggyback rides to patients. This isn't a playground." Her eyes narrowed again, radiating suspicion and reproach still, and this time, the finger point was behind him, to a nearby wheelchair. "Go put him down."
Ed tensed again.
"...Bastard," he whimpered against his neck, too quiet for the nurse to hear- just loud enough to send an anguished dagger of rage piercing straight down into his heart.
He sounded terrified.
I swear, Fullmetal.
I will never let anyone touch you again.
"I said," he hissed through clenched teeth, "he doesn't like wheelchairs."
The nurse stared at him incredulously, as if stunned by his audacity. Roy refused to move; refused to so much as give an inch to her glare. All he could see in his head was the look on Ed's face, the first time he'd realized how much it meant to the kid to be able to stand up and walk around under his own power.
He wasn't about to take that away from him now.
Not when they were so. damn. close.
When he still did not even move, the nurse glowered again, turning as if to go fetch the damn thing herself. "He can not like him as much as he wants. He's using one. And as for you-"
Roy stopped her with a hand to the wrist so tight she flinched.
"I am going to give you two options here. You have ten seconds to decide which you prefer." He would've balked at removing the cautious hand Ed's leg was hooked around, but the kid was clinging to him so tightly it hardly mattered- and banking on instinct alone, he raised his pale hand, palm up, and turned it so she could see the blood scratched array.
The color drained from her face.
And Roy, the fact that his power could inspire such terror chilling him to his core, forged onwards- the only thing that he knew being Ed's arm around him, and his head resting against his shoulder, shaking and terrified.
"Option one: you allow us to leave, with no further upset. I will take my friend, and you will never see me again. A caveat: this is the option we would both prefer. I have no interest in harming you- but take me at my word when I say that I will if I have to." He flexed his hand again, feeling the scratches tingle, alchemy already eager in his blood again.
"Option two," he murmured quietly, and inched his thumb closer to the array.
She gulped and took a tiny step back.
He didn't want to hurt her. He could see her terrified eyes flick to Ed, knew that to her eyes, he was a monster trying to kidnap an injured child right out of his hospital bed- but little did she know he wasn't the monster, here. And there was no time, not anymore. He could not take even the slightest risk of failing. If they were caught now- if they were found out now-
He remembered being bound to a hospital bed, given barely even the freedom to flex his fingers. Day in, day out, chained hand and foot like an animal, dragged to be forced into work like a slave and punished like a disobedient beast. He remembered that dead, soulless look in Ed's eyes... that lost stare with no hope.
He'd kill himself before he let anyone take him back there.
He'd kill her if she even tried to take Ed back there.
"Decide," he hissed, and tensed his hand.
Her dark, terrified eyes found Ed again...
And this time, he saw in her what her decision was going to be before she ever even moved.
Please.
Please, please, please, you're my alchemy whether I remember you or not, I learned you once, I mastered you, so please listen to me and don't kill her. Please just move her out of our way.
Please!
His thumb touched the circle.
This time, Roy didn't trust the alchemy to work for him. This time he chased the energy, following it through the lines he'd carved in his flesh and chasing it as it turned from an electrical crackle of blue light in his skin to a tunnel of oxygen in the air. He chased it there, following it at lightning speed as it snaked through the air and he glared at her throat, staring hard as he ordered his alchemy go there. Stop her. Stop her but don't kill her. Stop her, stop her, stop her stop her stop-
The woman collapsed.
Choking, gasping, scrabbling for air, hands scratching at her throat and chest...
but alive.
She was still alive.
Roy took off running.
He heard shouts after him but the words faded into a blur, nothing existing except for Ed clinging to him and his own pounding heart. His back screamed for respite and how he stayed on his feet, he'd never know- but he just ran, sprinting away as fast as his legs would carry him. Sprinting for home.
Their first breath of fresh air that they could ever remember was not the victorious, rejoicing moment it should've been. The moment they hit the open air Roy kept on running, turning down the sidewalk to pound over the pavement, anywhere that was away from here. There were still people behind him, shouting for him to stop, and as long as they were still being chased he'd run. He'd run to hell if that was what it took; they weren't ever getting their hands on Ed again.
Roy swerved and ducked into the nearest alley he could find, throwing himself out of the yellow glow of street lamps to bury himself against the wall. The ground was laden with trash and refuse but he didn't care; he just sunk deeper into it. With the utmost care, he shifted around to pull Ed off his back, holding the kid to his chest as he pressed his own bloody back against the wall. "Shh," he whispered, though he hadn't said a word. "Wait a moment. Shh... it'll be okay, Fullmetal. I promise."
Ed clung to him even tighter, fist shaking in his shirt, but he obeyed, and did not speak.
Roy swallowed, heart clenching, and prepared to use his alchemy again.
But no one came for them.
No one ever came.
Still he waited, frozen in the dark and the cold, heart pounding in terror as he waited for the inevitable discovery. For the doctor to come around the corner, smiling, and say, Find you. For the guards they'd left alive to come and restrain them both, drag them back kicking and screaming to slowly die as little more than animals. To be found with this struggling, agonized child rasping against his chest, helpless to do anything but hold him and touch that circle and pray it worked...
He waited, and no one ever came.
At last, still sweating and shaking, Ed held tightly against him, heart pounding but finally beginning to ease, he realized it:
They were free.
The idea was a curious thing, something so magnanimous it had been dreamed and idolized for so long, idealized and glorified... but now here it was, right at his feet. Here they were. Sitting together and alone in a trash covered, rancid alley, rats skittering about at his feet and blood soaking through his front and his back. It was dark and cold, overcast, the moon that he'd never seen but believed to be true shadowed by drifting clouds, the air not a refreshing breeze but instead a cold blast that made him shiver and hunch every too often time it came. Ed was trembling, in cold or pain or blood loss or... whatever it was, it wasn't good. He was shaking, too, and couldn't seem to stop. He was exhausted and in pain and losing blood fast. It was the middle of the night, they had no idea where they were, they had no money, and looking the way they were, anyone who saw them would drag them straight back to the hospital.
He was also so happy and overwhelmed his heart was about to burst.
"Fullmetal," he called gently, touching him on the shoulder again. His voice was shaking; nearly vibrating with joy. "Look. We did it. ...We're safe."
Even as far gone as he was, Ed heard him. He jerked a little in his lap, bloodshot eyes widening as he looked around the dirty alley. His fist, previously clenching so tight in his shirt it had nearly worn a hole in it, slackened, falling limp with the sheer shock of it.
"It's... horrid."
Roy barked out a harsh, broken sort of laugh. "I know."
"It's..." Slowly, Ed let his head back down again, now turning back over so his eyes gazed up to the sky. His tender back now rested, surely painfully, against his knee, but if Ed felt it, he didn't even whimper. "...It's beautiful."
"I know." His voice cracked, and he, too, tilted his head back up to look at the sky. And it was. It was beautiful.
So beautiful.
His hand fell, landing gently on ed's shoulder. He rubbed it carefully, trying to impart some sense of comfort, safety. "We should go," he murmured, though with no move made to rise.
Ed didn't move, either. "I'm tired," he said again, gazing blearily up at the clouds. It was an eerie reminder of those same words before, just inches away from their prison as they'd been, but this time Roy agreed with him. The boneless, dragging sort of exhaustion that tugged him down like a leaden blanket... the way the stones around him suddenly looked so succulently soft, better than any pillow to rest upon...
He'd lost blood, too, after all.
Lots of it.
"Can I sleep?" Ed asked meekly, and god that request, so tired and innocent... "Please?" He turned closer to him, side of his head pressing into his stomach and hand landing on his leg. "I'm tired. I'm... I'm so tired, bastard."
It broke his heart to shake his head, even as his mind begged him to agree. "We can't sleep yet. We sleep here, we'll die. We've got to move."
"...But I... I can't anymore..."
Roy shook his head again, tears of born of exhaustion and his own pain and most of all denying this miserable, drained kid even this much. "We've got to. Al's out there somewhere, Fullmetal, remember? Remember Al?" He rubbed his shoulder again, desperately trying to wake both himself and the kid up. "He's probably looking for you. We've got to go find him. We can sleep then, we just- we have to go find him. Please, Fullmetal. I'll carry you again," god knew how he would when he felt so gone, so empty, but he would, "but we've got to go. We have to. Come on, please. Please, do this. This one last thing. It's the last thing, I promise."
He was babbling and knew it. Couldn't stop, either. The words spilled pathetically out of his mouth and he held Ed again, heart aching, pleading with the poor kid to just get up and manage just a little more.
Because if they went to sleep here, Roy knew, there'd be no waking up.
At last Ed looked at him again, but he could see so clearly by the glazed sort of stare he wasn't present, not really. "How we supposed to find him?" he mumbled, defeated and broken. "We... we don't know where... I wanna sleep, bastard." He shut his eyes again, jaw clenching. "I... Al..."
Stricken, Roy leaned back against the wall, battling his own sorrow. Ed was right. They had nowhere to go. Even if Al was here... wherever here was... they'd never find him.
But they had to do something...
Then, Roy remembered.
Very slowly, like a force other than his own will was guiding his hand, he reached down to his pocket, and withdrew the stolen pocket knife.
He looked at it.
Then, he smiled.
"Fullmetal." Pocket knife held in one sweat slick hand, he shook his shoulder again with the other. Probably too roughly, for his injured back. "Fullmetal, I know where to go."
Exhausted eyes slitted open to blink at him, hazy and miserable. "...Wuzzat?"
"I know where to go." Emboldened again, somehow, amazingly, he grasped Ed again. The kid surely didn't have the strength to hold on now, so he just lifted him up into his arms. Everything felt numb and tingly, even so his back still cried out desperately in retaliation, but he marched forward, unquestioningly following the instinct that drove him out of the alley, then said, turn right.
The knife weighed reassuringly in his hand, and, though he had no idea how, he knew.
He knew where home was.
"I know where home is," he whispered and allowed, looked at the knife again, and let it guide him home.
Home, as it turned out, was an apartment building. He stared at it from outside, at the white walls and the well groomed grass, the pretty trim. Shook his head. There was no spark of familarity that he'd hoped for... nothing that screamed out me! Me! Pick me! This is home!... no burst of recognition...
Another glance at the cold knife, and he nodded, satisfied.
He may not remember anything else, but it was here. It had to be.
The door was locked, but that was okay. He shifted Ed carefully, ramming his elbow into the glass without pause and not even feeling the rain of glass shards around him; he saw the blood drip from his arm and without it, wouldn't have even known he was injured. He reached inside and fumbled his way in.
The knife, warm and lovely in his hand, told him upstairs.
Upstairs. Of course he'd have the bloody stupid sense to pick an apartment upstairs. He sighed, trudging up and away. Ed rolled a little in his arms, breathing shallowly, and for a split second, Roy wondered just how comfortable the stairs would be, if he just sank down here and now and slept.
The knife told him forwards. He went forwards. The knife told him right. He went right. Then the knife told him to stop, and he did. He looked up.
He was here.
Once again, he felt nothing.
But he knew it... he knew... that this was it. Somehow he knew. This was home.
So, heart in his throat, Roy shifted his hand forwards, and tried to open the door.
It was locked.
...
It was still locked, when he half-heartedly tried again several seconds later, stunned and almost disbelieving that this was the case.
It wouldn't open.
After several shocked, impossible moments, Roy's legs gave out on him.
He fell against the door, held up only by the smooth wooden surface. Ed was gripped so tightly against his chest there was no danger of him falling as he raised his other hand to palm the door, almost scratching like a cat begging to be let in. "I really..." Emotion welled in his throat and he crumpled against the door, chest tight. Crestfallen, he let his hand slip; it was only by some measure of a miracle that his legs didn't follow it and send them both to the floor. "I really thought... this was it..."
This had to be it. Because if it wasn't... there was nowhere else. There was nowhere else for them to go. If it wasn't here...
He couldn't do this anymore.
Even with Ed in his arms, even knowing they had to keep moving above all else- he just couldn't. He was tired and alone and in pain, and so cold, and he simply didn't have the strength. He was alone in a vast world of infinite paths all shrouded in darkness and he couldn't find the right one. There was at once everywhere and nowhere to go, because if this wasn't Al, if this wasn't his blue...
They had nowhere. Nothing.
Ed's head leaned against his chest, fingers tugging weakly at his collar. "I'm really tired, bastard," he said again, and this time it was just a hazy whisper, half-lidded eyes gazing blindly through him. "I'm... can we stop, now? Please?"
His heart trapped itself uncomfortably in his throat.
"...Yeah, Fullmetal." He brought his hand one last time against the door, hitting it out of defeat rather than frustration. "We can stop."
There was nothing for them.
He was simply too tired, and had just nothing left to give anymore. He'd spent it all up and now there was nothing.
They were going to die here.
Roy looked down at the shattered boy in his arms, heart torn neatly in two, and found himself thankful that he'd at least been able to get Ed away from there, to die as a free man instead of a prisoner.
"I'm sorry I couldn't do more," he whispered, holding him even tighter against his chest, hands scrabbling for purchase over his blood soaked back, but it didn't matter.
Ed was asleep, and wouldn't be waking again.
"I'm so sorry it wasn't enough." He pressed his forehead to Ed's, something warm, wet, and agonizing streaking down his face until he choked over a sob. "I'm so sorry, Fullmetal."
He slipped until he was curled against the wall, left his arms around Ed, and waited for the end.
It was some time later, he'd never know how much, that the door opened.
It was a man. Looking just roused from sleep, one hand rubbing at his eyes, mouth open mid-yawn. It was a man. Roy didn't know him. He almost felt like his heart wanted to throb and dance at the sight, almost felt something, but he did not know him and he lay still instead, supported only by the wall at his back.
The man, meanwhile, just stood there and gaped at the sight of him.
"...Did I do it?" Roy asked quietly, but he didn't even dare to hope. Not this time. "Is this... is this home?"
The man remained frozen and silent.
He held Ed a little closer to him, heart aching again.
"...Please?" he asked, and it might've been him begging.
Please. Please tell him he hadn't failed.
Suddenly, the man was there, kneeling in front of him. Hands reached out and Roy only knew to pull away, arms wrapped protectively around Ed. He sagged in relief when the man didn't yank them apart, but still held him close, heart quaking in terror at how close he was and how easily he could take Ed. "Wait," he gasped, or maybe he just thought it; he barely had the breath to speak, "wait, please-"
"Holy hell. I- oh my god-" The man froze, still reaching for him, something akin to horror on his face, then twisted around, back to the apartment. "Gracia!" he screamed. "Gracia, call an ambulance! NOW!"
Roy froze.
Ambulance...?
Hospital.
"No," he croaked on a breath, and held Ed even tighter.
The man wasn't safe.
The man was one of them.
"No," he whispered again, this time in horrified denial.
The man turned back to him again, reaching forwards until Roy flinched away. He looked panicked and terrified, voice shuddering with strain. "Don't worry, we're getting you some help, okay? You'll be fine, just-"
"No." He would've scrabbled away on the floor if he'd had the strength, just gripped Ed close when he did not. "No, don't- please..." He couldn't. Oh, god, he couldn't. They couldn't go back there. If they were sent back there... he couldn't do this anymore...
"No," he cried again, but it was a broken plea before a demand. "Please don't do this to us. Please. I'll give anything... please... please don't take him..."
The man stared at him worriedly, green eyes swamped with fear and concern, and his hand was shaking as he was reached for yet again. "Hey, it's okay," he tried to caution, quieter now, gentler now. "You're safe now..."
Safe. Safe. He couldn't do this- couldn't take that away, not after he'd fought for so hard and so long to make it here- they couldn't be sent back there. This couldn't be happening. Oh god, no. "Please!" he begged, squeezing Ed to his chest again, but he knew he was powerless to stop him. He was drained and exhausted and hurt and dying, could hardly move save for the agony to breathe... he couldn't stop him. He couldn't do anything except sit here and let it happen.
Something deep in him broke.
"Please." He turned away, cradling Ed between himself and the wall, protecting him the only way he had left. "Please just leave him. Please don't do this to him. You can take me back." He didn't even know what he was saying, could barely hear the words, lurching and broken, over the horrified devastation welling inside him; just talked and cried and begged, gasping for Ed to be left alone. "You can take me back. I swear I won't fight you, I'll do whatever you want, I'll never run again just don't do this to him! Don't hurt him! He doesn't deserve this... please don't hurt him, just let him go, please... he's just a kid..." just... he's just mine, he is MY kid and you can't hurt him, you can't take him from me, you can't do this, "please..."
He'd done this. He'd ruined him. He should've listened to Ed, but no; instead he'd dragged him out of that filthy alley, he'd forced him all through the city, he'd yanked him straight back into danger and now didn't have the strength to get him out again. He'd done this.
As horrible as the possibility of dying under the moonlight had been before, suddenly, it was all Roy wanted.
"R... Roy..."
"Please..."
But he didn't have the strength to go on any longer.
"Please," he choked, fading. The floor was suddenly up close, and he sank against it, curled around Ed, and prayed to die.
I'm sorry, Fullmetal...
The last thing he felt were hands prying Ed away from his own.