That one announcement was all that it took for everything to immediately devolve into absolute chaos.
Nobody paid attention to Ed anymore, which he was grateful for, because so far today his luck had been pretty sour when the focus of the room had been on him, but everything else was such a mess it was nerve-wracking enough as it was. Soldiers running in and out of the room, brushing aside him like he was a piece of trash, and Roy was not much better, the bastard trying to speak up once or twice but simply being talked right over, and no attention being paid to either of them whatsoever.
Ed wouldn't have even minded that part of it so much, if the full, horrible reality of this situation wasn't already becoming readily apparent:
The rebels were here.
This literal fucking military base was under attack, by a literal fucking squad of angry terrorists- and if everything he'd heard today was to be believed, Justin was among them.
He wanted to go home.
More accurately, if he didn't get to get out of here soon, he was probably going to faint from a goddamn heart attack, and he was going to like it, because he'd rather be unconscious than fighting a losing battle against the panic in his chest and the thundering, crashing realization that it wasn't over. It wasn't over. That- that man could find them again. They were here and he was out there and he was coming, he knew they were here, he knew they'd broken the rules and been bad and he was going to find them again and leave him back in that little padded room and he'd never get out again and-
"Calm down, Fullmetal," the bastard ordered quietly, guiding him back to his side with one strong, still gloved hand. One on his shoulder, and another one drifting possessively to his back, curling twitchily like a shuddering bowstring pulled taut and about to snap. "We'll be fine," he promised again.
Ed knew, however, that Roy was not in a position to make that promise.
He wanted out of here. He wanted to take Roy and Al and run. He wanted to be back in his room at Roy's aunt's bar, or hundreds of miles away in Risembool, yeah, that was good, hundreds of miles out of here, but that- that wouldn't even be enough, would it? Hundreds of miles wouldn't stop him. Thousands of miles wouldn't stop him. He'd found them here after all, hadn't he? He knew he'd broken the rules and he was going to kill Roy just like he'd promised and then Ed would wake up back in that straitjacket in that cell and he would never, ever, ever get out...
"Fullmetal, stop," and then Roy's face was in his, bleached pale but black eyes hard and the hand on his shoulder even tighter. "Listen to me. He won't find us. He won't get to us. And he'll never, ever, touch you again. Okay?"
"You d-don't- you can't promise- can't stop-"
"Fullmetal," he ordered, now for the third time, and instead of on his back one hand moved his face, cold but strong and there- and the other one, held reassuringly in between them, with the glove, and its array, facing Ed.
"Fullmetal. I can promise- and I am: nobody is going to be able to so much as touch you that you don't want to. Do you understand? I've got this. I've- I've got you. Okay? You understand, Fullmetal?" He flexed his hand a little, curling it as if a warning, as if he was just about to snap, and then, still looking him right in the eye, he gave him a reassuring smile.
Ed's heart continued to hammer sickeningly away, so fast and hard he almost wanted to throw up. His pulse kept pounding in his ears and his mind kept racing with what if and his arm was already starting to tingle and burn with the memory of what it'd been like, and oh god he wanted nothing more than to hide and never face any of this again.
But slowly, stiffly, all but paralyzed with the terror of it, he nodded.
Roy hadn't let him down yet.
At that moment, Roy's Hawkeye marched straight to them, the smaller pistol so usually on hand with her suddenly traded out for a longer rifle with an extra ammo belt or three. She marched straight for them, or rather, straight for Roy, and stood there before them with folded arms, her sharp eyes inspecting them up and down in an analytical sweep, every detail acknowledged, every factor taken in.
Roy tried for a weak, uncertain sort of a smile. She frowned severely right back.
"You still stay here, sir. Edward, you still also stay here, with him. Do you understand?" She stared them both up and down again, glare so piercing it was dangerous, and advanced yet another step forward. "I am being ordered to lead a sniper battalion on the roof, while Lieutenant Colonel Hughes will shortly take command of a line of defense on the ground floor- the safest place for you to remain is in this room. You will not open the door. You will not burn up your sanity in a cockamamie scheme to assist in the fight. You will not, for any other reason that I have yet to cover, leave this spot until it is all clear, is that understood?"
Roy gulped. Slowly, almost jerkily, he nodded.
Once again, Ed was with him. As unhappy and skittish as he was to be forced to sit out on the action- fuck, that certainly beat throwing himself into the thick of it without an arm or a leg.
And it certainly beat throwing himself into the thick of it where he could get separated from Roy or Al.
The lieutenant glanced them both up and down again, sharp eyes clearly analyzing for any signs of deceit.
Then, with an unerring air of calmness, she knelt down to his eye level, brought her hand back to her pistol, and pressed it firmly right into his chest. "For protection," she told him steadily, her warm fingers spreading warmly over his heart in a startling contrast to the gun, cold as ice, and her eyes, hot as simmering coals. "The colonel has his gloves, so you need something, too. I know I can trust you to use this responsibly, Edward. You- you might not know or remember it, but I do, so let that be enough, for now: promise me that if you have to, you'll use it."
Ed stared back at her, nerves clashing with wonderment, this time, and leaving him at a loss for words. He looked down at the cold gun, still pressed reassuringly into his new and scratchy uniform, entirely foreign and strange and he'd never held one before, at least he- he didn't think s0- but it was there, being offered freely, and by the look in the lieutenant's eyes, he knew he was trusted to handle it.
And he couldn't lie, either.
If Roy had his gloves, then he damn well wanted to something to defend himself with, too.
He wasn't fucking useless.
Slowly, with one firm nod, he wrapped his hand around the gun and accepted it. It didn't feel any more comfortable or recognizable once he had his hand on it, heavy and hard as he slowly folded his fingers around it... but it was simple enough, right? Just- just aim and shoot.
If Roy could figure out his gloves, surely he could manage that much.
"Promise, Lieutenant," he swore quietly, settling the cold gun back down by his side. "I've got this."
Hawkeye remained knelt down before him, watching him with worried eyes as if searching him for any sign that he might not be ready for this. Her gaze swept over him once, twice, careful and analyzing, until something finally shifted in her, and her stern features softened into the smallest of smiles. "Good boy," she said warmly, patting him firmly on the shoulder- and something strange and... and familiar settled over him.
It was the same words that he remembered from the nurses. All the time, every day, a smile and saccharine sweet words that waved his words aside and saw him as nothing more than a stupid, foolish child to be ignored. It was the same words in his ears, it was the same hand on his shoulder- the exact same- but then, it wasn't. Those nurses had patted him on the head and told him good boy like he was a dog or a two year old to be patronized, but Hawkeye-
She looked at him like he was an equal. She looked at him like she trusted him.
He may not have remembered her, but, he realized, as a steady warmth grew around his heart and collected around the still coursing panic, she remembered him.
With one steady, confident nod, Hawkeye patted his shoulder again, warm and steady, and then she pushed herself straight up to turn towards Roy instead. "And you. You'll do the same, sir, do you understand me? You'll remain here and protect yourselves at any cost, but you will remain here, is that clear, Colonel?"
"Y- yes, ma'am?"
Her eyes narrowed again, a deadly sort of examination for truthfulness, and though whatever she found in him finally satisfied her, she clearly remained suspicious. "Then I'll see you again shortly, sir," she said, promptly saluting, rifle back to her side. "And if that is any sooner than before the end of this fight and we have returned here to collect you, it will not be a fond meeting."
And then, without even waiting to be dismissed, she snapped her hand down to her side, turned her back, and marched right out of the darkened office at a brisk, disciplined military jog, on the heels of so many other soldiers, and Ed was left alone with Roy, Hughes, his brother, and the gun.
He was not, of course, left alone and unbothered for long.
Because Hughes was next, right away taking the lieutenant's place before them and giving them both a steady, sharp sort of grin. "You, my friend," he said, "are also taking this," and with a flash of steel a push dagger was pressed into Roy's grip, their hands grasped together even as his grin faded into a steady, tense line. "I know this seems hectic, but everything'll be fine, all right? You'll be safe up here. You'll see- no one's getting in here and before you know it, we'll be out of here, and you'll be fine... both of you will. Okay?" He glanced down reassuringly at Ed, giving him the same sort of calming smile Hawkeye had tried for, then re-focused back on Roy, this time with a gentle sort of slap to his cheek. "Now- Roy?"
The bastard scowled a little, looking somewhat like a petulant child, and even to Ed, it looked just a little bit like his face started to flush red. "What, Maes?"
"You recall how I told you I was going to kill you for hitting Gracia as soon as you were better, right?"
"...y-yeah?"
The lieutenant colonel grinned sharply again. "Well, that's still true. However- if I so much as find you one step outside of his room, you are not going to live long enough to get murdered by me for that."
Then, his sharp grin softened into a warmer smile, and he reached out swiftly to tug his friend into a brief, one-armed hug. He knelt down to Ed's level, just like Hawkeye had, and did the same for him, one very brief, very gentle hug that ended with a soft pat on his side, and a conspiratorial sort of wink. "Look after him for me, okay? I'm sure you've realized, even as he's tried to hide it- but he can really use it, sometimes."
"Maes. Really. I do not-"
"Except, you really, really do. Both of you do." Hughes stood back, hands on his hips, gazing over them both as if to evaluate how truly ready they were- and then, smile already fading back into a tense line, hand already going to the radio clipped to his belt, he turned to follow Hawkeye's run out of the office.
Then, not even a second later, he poked his head right back into the office to point straight at Roy's face. "And both of you, stay away from the windows! You hear me? Away!"
And with that, he was gone, and Ed and Roy were both left blinking and all but agape behind.
Ed glanced blankly up at the bastard, and again some of the nervous tension fluttering through him was soothed by the amusedly shellshocked look on his face. It took several moments more, passed only by a few confused blinks, for the older alchemist finally managed to shake it off with an exasperated sigh, rubbing one gloved hand across his face while he moved to meet Ed's eyes. "How come everybody seems to expect me to run off all half cocked into a firefight? I'm no more eager to get involved in this than you are!"
Shaking his head, Ed limped himself a little more comfortably against the wall, leaning again into Roy's warmth and trying to steady the anxious trembling he could already feel growing in his hand. "Maybe because they know you're a bastard."
His pale face creased into another frown, gloved hand twitching as if in embarrassment, and Ed found himself just shaking his head and swallowing a snicker as he turned back to face his brother. "What do you think, Al, does Roy- ...Al...?"
Because his brother had not been listening to them bicker.
His brother, instead, was instead already fully wrapped up in redecorating the now deserted office.
And by redecorating, Ed meant busying himself with forcefully yanking the curtains out to cover ever inch of the wide windows, pulling bookcases and a heavy desk to scrape and screech over the polished floor, carving a steady array of scratches into it without any heed whatsoever. As Ed watched, his brother hauled one heavy piece of furniture after enough towards the door, each one setting up as a barricade or blockade of sorts-
To slow down the rebels if they made it up here.
That was why, Ed realized with a sobering, almost freezing wave of realization. That was why Al had torn part the office and put it back together again like a jigsaw puzzle, a haphazard interlocking blockade to create one last barrier against anyone who made their way up this high who they didn't want in.
Ed gulped, and drew a little nearer to Roy again.
When Al finally stood back to examine his handiwork, it was to a heavy, solid desk overturned on its side with a couch shoved up against it blocking the doors, such a mess Ed wasn't sure he could even climb over it and even if he could, it was obvious that door wasn't opening against that barricade. Then there was the heavy bookcases, their contents already half scattered all over the floor while the furniture itself was arranged closer to them, looming enough for them to hide it its shadows in one final, last ditch effort if someone got in here wanting to find them.
Somehow, all of the bravado that Hawkeye and Hughes' confidence had inspired began to flag under the dire, very obviously grim circumstances of what sort of nightmare they had just landed on. Another slow, subtle sort of boom rolled through the room, like a distant rumble of thunder, and once again, Ed's attention was was re-focused on the fact that the lights were still out.
Finally assured of all of his work, Al moved towards them again, making a small, uncertain sort of noise as he wrung his huge hands together. "I'm going to wait outside," he said at last, inching a step backwards, then forwards again, as if he couldn't decide whether to leave or to stay. "No one should even get all the way up here, they said the group didn't look big enough to even get inside, but- but just in case. You'll be safe if you stay here, and I'll guard the door from the outside just to make sure. No one'll be able to get in if I'm there."
He broke off for another worried pause, bright, soulfire eyes tracking over the both of them as if there was something more he wanted to say but couldn't figure out what it was. He wrung his hands together again, hesitant and fidgeting on the spot- and in him in that moment, just like he'd seen in Hawkeye's steady trust in him and Hughes' familiarity, he saw something that he recognized.
This time, however, he recognized it from himself.
He recognized the silent fear in his eyes that had possessed Ed so many times in that hospital, at the threat of being left alone.
Ed hesitated, something cold squirming in his stomach, and for the first time, felt something shift in him to recognize his brother as his brother. Not somebody he knew only because his instincts demanded it, but because he could look at him and see someone that he consciously knew- as sure as he knew himself.
He was still scared.
But he could be strong for his brother.
''We'll be okay, Al," he had promised, arranging the steadiest smile on his face that he could. "Like you said, no one'll be able to get in here as long as you're in their way. So I'll- I'll be okay. Promise."
Al shifted uncertainly again.
Then, his metal face shifted into a beautiful, beaming smile, and that, evidently, was all his brother had needed to hear to reassure him, because with that, he walked straight for the wall- avoiding the barricaded and locked doors to instead neatly clap his hands, then press them to the plaster.
As Ed watched, the wall parted cleanly away for an opening just big enough for his brother to walk through so neatly and perfectly there was barely any crumbing dust or refuse left behind. Then, upon vanishing into the hallway, there was another clap- and the hole in the wall closed just as immediately and neatly as it had opened.
He blinked again.
God damn this alchemy stuff was good.
And... and, with that...
They were alone.
He and Roy, alone in the now dark, ruined general's office, huddled up together hiding from the windows and pressing away from the door, with the distant booms and crashes and- gunfire, he finally realized, that was gunfire- all there was to echo in their ears.
...
Yeah, he really didn't like this at all.
And it didn't matter, because, as he'd promised Al, he really didn't have any other choice but to sit here and bear it.
"So..." he mumbled at last, the words dragging themselves out after an unbearable, thick silence. He settled the freezing cold gun gingerly down on the floor to rub his eyes, as if that might somehow clear the storm growing in his head. "So- is this it, then? Are we just... do they just want us to wait up here until it's over?"
Roy folded his arms, appearing just as distinctly uncomfortable with the idea as Ed suddenly found himself, then shuddered violently, as if he was trying to hold back a shiver but didn't do a very good job of it. "I'm sure that we'll be fine," he said pragmatically, but clearly with an effort; his dark eyes weren't even looking at Ed this time, sweeping around the newly shadowed corners of the office as if something terrible or dangerous might leap out from them at any moment. "I'm sure we... I mean, of course we're safe. We're all the way up here on what, the tenth floor? And think of it this way, we've got a whole army standing in between us and them. Come on, what's safer than that?"
"I dunno," Ed muttered back darkly, glaring to the floor. "But this is the same army that somehow missed this whole web of crazy terrorists sneaking into the city that was supposed to be on lockdown, and somehow let them sneak all the way over here apparently without being caught or seen even once."
Roy's smile, with a gutwrenching sort of chill, faltered.
And Ed would've felt bad, because he hadn't meant to make him feel worse than he already did or scare him, but right there in that moment, the slowly escalating terror already squirming in his stomach was not letting him calm down. Because his words were the truth. He trusted Al and he trusted Roy, but the fact of it was that whoever the hell these people were had already wormed their way through the military's defenses to make it this far- why was he supposed to believe they wouldn't make it just a little further?
Why the hell was he supposed to believe this was all one great big fat coincidence that this happened today, the very first time he and Roy had come out of hiding- and now Justin came for HQ? Right when they got there, now Justin decided to try and break his way in, and he was supposed to believe it was out of nowhere?
That he wasn't coming here looking for them?
Oh, god, he was looking for them. He was on his way here right now, maybe already in the fucking building itself, and- and he was looking for them. He knew they'd escaped and wanted them back. He'd told Ed if he disobeyed him or fought back that he'd kill Roy; he'd promised it and minced no words as he described how he'd systematically dismember him, one finger, one limb at a time. He'd told him Roy would die and- and he was going to wake up in that room again- wasn't he? Wasn't he? He was going to wake up back in that straitjacket in that padded cell and this time he was never getting out-
"Fullmetal? Fullmetal, are you- hey, calm down... it'll be all right..."
It was too late, he couldn't- he was never going to see Al or Roy again- Justin was going to take those memories away, too, wasn't he? He'd realize he'd messed up the first time, so he'd do whatever he'd done before all over again, but this time, he'd take everything. He'd wake up back there but this time he wouldn't remember Roy, he wouldn't even remember Al- he'd remember none of what he'd escaped to, none of what we still had and the people who cared about him and wanted him safe, he wasn't going to remember anything except that tiny white room and there was nothing, nothing, nothing he could do about it-
"H-hey, um... Fullmetal...?"
"No," he gasped, shrugging the bastard's hand off when it was abruptly so much more than his racing, tumbling mind could handle. "No, you- shut up!" His skin was suddenly hot and crawling, an itchy sweat broken out over the back of his neck as he pushed forward, eyes darting around the room in an escalating panic. He was locked in. The door was locked and Al was guarding it from the outside, and it didn't matter that he was supposed to trust Al because the door was locked and- and they weren't supposed to do that! They weren't supposed to lock him in places! He didn't care that it was necessary; the door was shut and he couldn't get out!
He couldn't get out- he couldn't get out- he couldn't he couldn't hecouldn't
"Listen to me, Fullmetal," Roy hissed, one gloved hand clasping on his shoulder to swing him around, forcing them eye to eye and not allowing him to look anywhere but at him. "You're fine. They're not going to-"
"I want out! I- I- l-let me out of here! I c-can't- I can't be in here! Let me out, let me OUT!"
Roy stared at him for several moments more, dark eyes conflicted and desperate as he still clutched onto his shoulder with his one good hand, the weight of the knife from Hughes digging through his shirt and his fingers curled so tight he could feel them pressing into his back. He wanted to cry or scream or both, he wanted out, he had to get out of here right right RIGHT NOW, he could already feel the walls crushing in around him again...
Then, Roy's pale, shocked face crumpled, and next thing he knew, he'd been tugged tighter into a one-armed hug, one gloved hand burying into his hair to push his face into the bastard's shoulder, the other grabbing his shirt to pull him as close as he could possibly get.
"I'm sorry," he only vaguely heard, choked out by his ear as the gloved hand pushed his braid aside, rubbing gently on his back. "I'm sorry..." but the words were drowned out under the steadily growing roar in his head- and the steadily increasing distant crack of gunfire.
And Roy was still talking to him, the words and arms surrounding him closer than the walls, and for several frantic heartbeats Ed found himself too overwhelmed to even listen. But Roy was closer and stronger than the weight of the memories trying to crush him, shushing him quietly in his ear over and over, warmer and more present and solid than the fluttering fear and encroaching terror, and, second by second, he fumbled his way back down to earth.
"It's okay, Fullmetal," was eased gently into his ear, over and over again. "You're not there anymore. It's okay."
But it wasn't okay.
It-
It just wasn't.
After several moments, he finally managed one weak shake of his head, head and gaze still buried into the bastard's blue shoulder. "I w-want out now," was all he was able to stammer, was all that he meant, all that he knew. He couldn't wait until this was all over, he couldn't wait until Al came back in here to collect him when it was finally safe, he couldn't just sit here for literal hours huddled into the corner staring at that locked door-
He didn't care how unsafe it was. It didn't matter to him how steady and sure and there Roy was as he tried to calm him down.
He wanted out now.
Roy was quiet for several more seconds.
Then, he pushed back to hold Ed at arm's length, hand again on his shoulder, dark eyes looking directly to his own and pale face still shadowed, troubled- but now, sure. Roy was quiet at first, watching him with worried eyes and clutching him close, something deeply concerned flickering across his face...
Until he grinned.
"You want to get out of here, Fullmetal?"
Ed swallowed hard, struggling and not succeeding very well at smothering the panicky lump in his throat. "Y- yeah?"
"You're sure?" Roy pressed, squeezing his shoulder again. "You know that it's not too safe out there right now. We'd probably end up in danger and have to protect ourselves- Alphonse won't be able to help us. We'd only be able to rely on ourselves. Even knowing that, you still want to get out of here?"
"I..." He hesitated again, panic still fluttering in his chest, but the anxiety crawling at every inch of him screamed the answer before he could even think of it. "Yes." Yes, he wanted out of this fucking room, he didn't care how dangerous it was out there he just wanted out of this tiny space with a locked door staring him in the face that had him trapped and unable to get out. Yes, yes, yes, he didn't care, he just wanted out. "I- y-yes, I- so...?"
The colonel grinned viciously again.
"Just making sure," he assured, pulling on Ed's shoulder to turn him around and situate him carefully and safely against his chest, left arm holding him there securely while he flexed his gloved hand several times, curling his fingers. He took in a deep, steadying breath, Ed felt it by his ear and in the way he moved behind him, leveling his hand and clearly trying to still the faint trembling.
Then, he snapped.
There was a low, rumbling sort of creaking far closer and more ominous than the steady booming of a firefight from so many floors beneath them. Roy's fingers twitched and, beside him, the colonel let out a shudder of a gasp.
And, as Ed watched, one misshapen, jagged hole ate cleanly through the wood of the office floor, and carved out a chunk of flooring twice Ed's size to crash down to the office below them.
Ed gaped.
Next to him, after a somewhat stunned moment of silence, the bastard finally let out another groaning sort of hiss, vigorously shaking his hand about before just desperately clutching it to his chest, the look on his face a cross between irritation and pain. "God damn it, I have got to stop doing that," he muttered to himself, shivering with an expression that was very familiar to Ed by now, that told him he had just burned his own fingers, but then the shadow of pain was gone as he turned to look back down towards him with a slight, mischievous smirk. "I'm pretty tired of being babied, too, Fullmetal. I'm grateful for the protection, but I'm- tired of needing it, you know?" His smirk broadened as he tugged his uniform straight, then held up his gloved hand between them, clenching his fist to pull the array tight and taut. "If I'm supposedly this high-ranking officer, I should be able to stand up for myself. And, to be perfectly honest: I think I'd like to be the one to find Justin and put an end to this, once and for all."
Roy paused for another moment, his eyes searching, gloved hand still tensed, but when Ed found himself incapable of anything at all greater than simply staring, the bastard smirked a little more, reaching out to pat his shoulder instead. "We can still stay up here, if you don't want to do this. I won't go if you don't want to. So... it's up to you, Fullmetal. ...Are you in?"
Ed stared blankly at the bastard again. The hole in the floor. Back to the bastard.
Then, he grinned right back.
"You got it," he promised, and clutched the gun from Lieutenant Hawkeye back to his chest.
He was afraid, yes.
But he was more afraid of being trapped up here like a sitting duck than he was of actually making a stand, and fighting for himself.
Roy was right.
He was tired of having to wait around for others to save him.
Once again, like Ed had so many weeks ago, once again like that bloody night that they'd both escaped from that damn hospital, Roy shifted around, crouching in an obvious silent invitation for Ed to climb on. This time, the bastard's back wasn't burned. This time, Ed wasn't so faint with blood loss he was apt to fall right off. This time, they were both calm enough to do this, and this time, Ed pushed himself forward with a hard grin, wrapping one arm tightly around his shoulders and allowing the colonel to then hoist him up by his leg.
Just like he had weeks before, when they'd run for their lives, in one last desperate attempt to find their families.
Well, they had their families, now.
And they weren't running away any more.
Roy had never felt this panicked, terrified, and exhilarated in all of his life.
Yes, yes, he didn't remember damn well most of it.
Well.
Didn't matter.
He was pretty sure he would've remembered feeling higher on fumes than this.
His heart skipped and pounded away, hammering hard so long and fast until he was all but lightheaded, hands cold and clammy in his gloves and fingers shaking so much he could barely hold onto Maes' knife. Ed felt barely any better, clutching so tightly around his torso he swore his fingernails were going to start drawing blood even through his uniform any minute now, gun barely grasped in trembling fingers in a way that was certainly not going to be of any use- but he was here with him, and Roy wouldn't have had it any other way.
Even though his plan wasn't really a good one.
Both he and Ed were in uniform, which he could only assume was their best protection, out here; no one on their side would shoot even if they weren't recognized. Even if they were completely and totally lost, which they were, even if they were wondering about without a coherent plan, rhyme, or reason in the middle of a firefight... which... they were. Their uniforms kept them safe, and somehow, there was a perverse sense of pleasure in that idea that he couldn't help but smirk at.
Justin and that damn hospital had tried to take all of this away from him. But he'd remembered this. He'd remembered blue.
And now he had a whole army of it standing on his side, willing to watch Roy's back due to nothing more than the precious blue that he still remembered.
Now he had a whole army on his side, as it was now his turn to hunt Justin down like the goddamned dog that he was.
Of course, there was just one problem with that plan:
Roy had no idea where the bastard was.
They'd landed on the floor beneath Hakuro's office, a floor that was entirely deserted- something Roy could only take as a good sign. That meant the rebels had not fought their way this far up yet. But without any soldiers here on his side, there was also nobody here to ask what was going on, and in that new, deserted silence, that just left him with two choices: up or down.
Up took them straight back to Alphonse, and, if he remembered correctly, Hawkeye. Down took them to Maes, most likely everybody else- and, most likely, the rebels and terrorists.
After what Roy remembered of the silent warning in Riza's glare, in her order to stay in that room, and the idea of what Alphonse might do to him if he realized he'd coaxed his brother out of said room, he was willing to take his chances with the terrorists.
So, Ed clutching tightly onto his back like a desperate koala, and Roy with little more balance than a pogostick on a skateboard, he headed for the stairs, and went down.
"We need to get down to the first floor," he panted, fighting for balance as his heavy feet pounded down step after step, adrenaline pushing his feet forward even though he still had no idea where to. "Or at least close to it. Everyone should be down there."
"Of course they are," Ed grumbled. "As far away from us as possible."
"Would you prefer they have all formed a wall on the tenth floor to meet the terrorists there instead?" Sighing, Roy rounded around to yet another landing, panting even heavier now only to reel to a stop, blinking down the spartan, clean stairs to point just a floor below. There, finally, another barricade was set up- this one armed and staffed with another set of soldiers that even if Roy didn't know them, he knew their uniform, and that was close enough. "Look, Fullmetal, there-"
He jogged down the stairs at an even faster pace, one hand clutching onto Ed's to try and steady him while the other remained tensed and ready to snap. "Hey!" he called, raising his voice over the muffled chaos around them. "Hey, um- do you know-"
The two soldiers, previously occupied with packing in their barricade even tighter and checking their weapons, both started to face him, then, one after the other, saluted him. "Colonel Mustang!" the first one exclaimed, his eyes brightening- then dimming, trailing over the child clinging to him with his face just peering out stubbornly over his shoulder. "U-uh... Colonel Mustang..."
Roy set his jaw defiantly, squeezing Ed's hand a little as he felt the alchemist stiffen, preparing to snap back at the man's confused and somewhat disturbed look alone. Good. So they knew him, even if he didn't know them. Good. He could use this. "Where is everyone else?" he demanded, faking a confidence through a grim smile and squared shoulders that he hadn't felt in months. "I'm looking for- ...I need to help. Where is everyone?"
Somehow, he figured blurting out that he was looking for Justin wasn't going to get him very far.
But this line of questioning, of course, did not get him very far, either.
"We're- we're pinned down, sir-" The soldier's eyes flickered confusedly to Ed and back again, this time fixating quite firmly back on Roy after a snarl from the young alchemist, varying degrees of uncertainty and stress darkening his gaze. "We're holding them back two floors down but we can't get any closer, they're making it up the stairs and open fire whenever we try to come down. Can you give us some cover? We need to get back with the rest!"
Roy glanced uneasily at Ed, then down at his gloved hand, eying the neat array embroidered into the back. They were asking him- just assuming that he could pull it off... and that had to be why. He was the Flame Alchemist and he was known for what he could pull off with his gloves. General Hakuro himself had said it; all they needed out of him was someone who could aim and control his alchemy.
He'd dodged the question then, muttering a shameful and embarrassed no. He'd answered no when he'd known Maes and Riza had expected it from him and he'd known he was supposed to, with Hakuro sitting right there implying if he answered yes, he'd be taken away from Ed and his family and sent off somewhere to use his alchemy for them.
There was no Hakuro here.
There was just two soldiers that needed his help, and Ed on his back, reliant on him to get him through this. Reliant on him to protect them both. Just two soldiers, Ed, and his gloves.
He took a deep breath, and closed his eyes.
He could do this.
"Hang on tight," he murmured to Ed, squeezing at his hand again. "Hide your head or- or something." Then, squaring his shoulders, he tugged his glove down tighter and swiveled around to face the fight.
Now that he was closer he could just glimpse them further down the stairs, three or four men working to form a sort of barricade of their own, simultaneously on the lookout for any attack from above while trying to make their own strides below. Not so far away that he couldn't aim that far, not close enough for him to get a good enough look to feel comfortable. He could pull this off, though, he knew he could, he just had to-
Then there was the sharp crack of a gunshot, echoing like a scream in the cage of the stairwell, Roy's heart skyrocketed into panic, and his burned raw fingertips scraped against each other in one sudden, startled jolt of a snap.
This time, the noises echoing in the stairwell actually were high-pitched, bloodcurdling shouts of panic and screeches of agony, so sudden Ed clutched him and Roy's hands flinched as if to cover his ears. There was a devastating plume of smoke and the hot, burning scent of fire, the agonized screams ringing in his ears like a nail hammered through his skull, his heart stuttering to a stunned stop in his chest-
But as frozen as he and Ed were, the rest of the world kept on turning.
"Thanks, Colonel Mustang!" the soldiers said to him, an in unison chorus of harsh gratitude and grinning in the face of the screaming as, one by one, they patted him on the shoulder and shot straight past him. They marched off down the stairs even as he jerked a hand out to stop them, panic and indecision fluttering in his heart because for all the bravado he had in spades, he lacked the confidence. He didn't know if he'd gotten them, he didn't know if he'd even been close, wait, he wanted to say, WAIT, but the soldiers so plainly trusted him more than he trusted himself and were gone before he could stop them.
And yet, even with his own horrified lack of trust in himself, he was frozen to watch the soldiers run on- and run on, they did. Straight down the stairs, with no gunshots or shouts of alarm or cries of pain to follow, straight on back down the stairs and right past where he'd aimed his alchemy.
Ed again stiffened around him, the hand clutching to his shoulder grabbing even tighter. "What- what did you do?" the kid breathed, and for several moments, Roy had no answer for him.
His hand stung badly again. Fingertips scorched raw, his palm sore and aching with yet another burn that he knew he hadn't been able to stop.
"Well," he forced out finally, voice a lot stronger than he truly felt, "let's find out." Swallowing hard, he re-steadied himself, squaring his shoulders again to mute the shiver forcing itself down his spine. Nothing for it, he determined, but to march forward himself.
The first body, sprawled down motionless on the lower landing, had his head turned to the side with a blossoming trail of blood whispering down from his hairline. They were too far away for Roy to tell if he was breathing or not, but the explosion had very clearly knocked him in the head, and very clearly knocked him right out.
He didn't know if he was breathing, but he definitely knew he did not want to find out.
And the others...
Roy swallowed hard, and again forced himself, one foot after the other, to move on down the stairs.
This time, to grind to a very abrupt halt but three steps down.
There was another body, this one two landings below them. This one sprawled and motionless, too, but far more akimbo and unnatural than the first, clearly damaged from his fall down the stairs and this time, damaged too badly to be getting back up again.
The third body, just barely in his line of sight and he knew it was out of Ed's, was just a glimpse of a desperately kicking leg, and a boot that was on fire.
Roy's stomach lurched, and before he even knew what he was doing, his feet had moved again, this time to drag him straight down to the nearest landing and head straight into the hallway, as far away from the fire as fast as he could get it. He didn't want to see more, and he did not want Ed to see more. He didn't Ed to ask him about it. He didn't want to admit to what he was capable of.
He didn't want to remember what he was capable of, even as he knew that that rebel was not the first person he'd set on fire while still alive.
"Hey, um... bastard?" Ed ventured by his ear, pushing up on his shoulder a little to get some more leverage. "Shouldn't we be going downstairs more? To where most everyone else is?"
He was right. Even through the incomprehensible haze now descending over his head, Roy looked out and while this floor was not the deserted ghost town of the ones above it, it was not what they were looking for. The heart of the battle still went on below them.
But also below them was rebels he'd knocked out, maybe even killed, at just a snap of his fingers. Also below them was the body he'd willfully tossed down the stairs and left behind, broken and bleeding, and- and the one he'd set on fire.
Every last inch of him pulled away from that with a visceral, almost unbearable sort of disgust. He'd spent so long hunting for who he was, pawing through a haze of distant and murky memories to try and grasp something solid, anything more substantial than hot, burning smoke, but there was nothing to run from or to anymore. That was who he was. Those three bodies he'd snapped down a staircase and left broken, bleeding, and burning were who he was, for better or for worse.
And he didn't want to see that, just as much as he didn't want Ed to see it, either.
"...no," he heard himself cough out after several moments, voice gravelly and rough as his feet dragged himself forwards once again, this time straight through the soldiers running up and down the hall, checking weapons, dragging crates, barking orders. "I- Hughes'll be down there, and if he finds us he'll stop us. We'll need to look elsewhere."
Ed tensed again, this time pulling a little at his hair to try and make him stop. "Yeah, but what's he really gonna do? It's not like he can off and escort us back up ten floors now, can he?"
No, no, he couldn't, but that didn't matter, because Roy wasn't going down that staircase now and even if there was a whole army of Hugheses waiting at every other exit. "It's fine," he mumbled, trudging straight on through the crowd, it's fine, just let everything be fine...
"Hey, bastard, what's your problem?" Ed tugged on his hair again, this time hard enough to actually reel him to a stop. "You were the one who wanted to make a go at this ourselves, but now you're chickening out?! Come on, we're fine! What do you think he's gonna do, just kidnap us in the middle of all this shit?"
Roy bristled, jerking his head forward in an aggravated attempt to tug those irritating fingers right off. "I'm not- quit it, Fullmetal!- I'm not scared of Justin. I'm- I'm only saying-"
"I'm just calling it like I see it, and right now, you're the one who suddenly doesn't want to go looking for him the only place he might actually be! Come on, bastard, I'm not backing down!"
"Neither am I! I-"
"TAKE COVER! TAKE COVER! EVERYONE TAKE COVER!"
"-just meant... huh?"
Roy blinked dazedly, staring away from Ed back to the chaos up and down the hallway, the chaos that had just yanked its way one notch further. The network of blue uniforms darting past him suddenly turned into a mass of coordinated panic, soldiers abruptly dissipating, covering their heads and ducking to the floor and making a grab for anything solid they could find. The order was screamed out again, ringing in his ears, but Roy had no idea what they could possibly be talking about or what he was meant to do, and when he blinked back at Ed, it was plain the younger alchemist was just as lost as him.
For several seconds there was a desolate, very confused silence that settled over the chaos, reigning all around them.
Then, with an earth-shattering crack, an earsplitting boom, and a gut-wrenching drop in his stomach, the floor beneath them was splintered in the first explosion that wasn't from Roy's fingertips- and they fell.
When everything finally ground to a dusty, painful, screeching halt, the screams still ringing right in Ed's ears, it was for him to find him head reeling, and nearly all his body half crushed under a slab of concrete.
Even with the horrified panic of the fall having careened to a screeching halt, the aches of being tugged so tightly into Roy's arms, the pains of colliding into the rough edge of torn concrete, and the shellshock of the dusty explosion in the first place kept him paralyzed. He just lay there, collapsed sloppily over the broken curve of some miserable piece of rubble and the warm weight of Roy's arm, gasping into the thick silence, and mind utterly shattered with the shock.
He blinked shudderingly into the sudden, new dark. He jerked with the sudden pain of it, sore all over and shaken, the only anchor he had Roy's arm against him. He jerked again, gasping and overwhelmed, the sudden fall and new darkness turning his mind to mush, but managed to at least be aware of Roy next to him, and at least drag himself around to see if he was okay.
"Bastard?" he coughed, or, at least, made an attempt; a guttural, struggling sort of failure that sounded more like a hacking gasp than anything else. He coughed again, swallowing, and made a second stab at it. "H-hey, bastard, what's- what's going on? What happened?" He squinted hard, head ringing desperately and the shadows blotting out with spots of color bleaching through his eyes, Roy nothing more than a dark mass slightly lighter than the rest of the darkness surrounding him.
Roy grunted a little. Just a small, exhausted sort of groan, nonverbal and barely coherent, enough to prove he was alive, not enough to prove anything beyond that. "Bastard," he prodded again, shaking his head to try and clear the soft, spinning slush out of it as he pushed, now trying to get himself upright. He felt okay, at least, he could move his arm and his leg, he could breathe without too much pain- he was probably bruised and cut all over but nothing serious, at least... god, his head was spinning...
There was some more shuffling, some faint sorts of creaks and crumbling of rubble, but they felt distant and vague and not important at all next to the warm, shuddering body next to him. "Bastard? Roy?" he called again, glaring around the shadows. In the collapse they had to have been completely trapped, he figured, that was the only explanation- their only light sources being beyond the rubble and leaving him and Roy in complete darkness.
He would've panicked then and there about being shut in, potentially with no way out, if he hadn't been about to panic about the fact that Roy wasn't answering him.
"Roy?" he called desperately, shaking him. "Roy? ...Bastard?!"
There was another low, sleepy sort of groan. This one seemed to at least try to approximate some sort of reply, but whatever words there were were lost underneath the sigh, and he did not try to say it again.
Shit. Shit this was bad. This was really, really bad. He sucked in a stuttering gasp, mind again threatening to all but throw itself right off the tracks, his heart pounding and his hand trembling even as he rested it on what he hoped was Roy's back. Great. He'd never needed a human match more than right this second, and now his resident flamethrower of a friend was out cold...
Ed heaved in another trembling breath, shaking his head hard when he felt that panic in his chest start to rise. Nope. Nope. Wasn't okay. That couldn't happen this time. This time he didn't have Roy to take up the slack if he off and lost his mind, because now it was all on him and Roy wasn't moving, why wasn't he moving- why was it so fucking dark-
"D-damn it, bastard," he stammered, "if you could just give me a light right now-"
But Roy wasn't awake enough to answer him. By the rare groans and uneven breathing, he might not have been awake at all.
Ed took a deep gasp of his own, struggling to keep his head on and think through the encroaching panic.
Then, his gaze still only for the gently breathing, slumped figure before him, he got to work.
It was hard, in the almost complete darkness, but he ran his hand over the colonel, searching until he'd landed on his back. Definitely breathing. Good. That assured, he shifted again, shoving himself up along with the faint sounds of rubble shifting and creaking elsewhere in wherever the hell they'd ended up, carefully running his hand up until he'd found his right shoulder, then feeling his way down until he'd found Roy's hand.
Or, more accurately, his gloved hand.
Ed grinned again.
"Gimme," he muttered, wrapping his fingers around Roy's bigger ones to work against the cloth. Definitely had to be careful here. If he dropped the glove, in this darkness it'd be hell to get it back. "Gimme, bastard... come on..."
Roy groaned quietly again, shifting just a little, turning underneath him with a great, heavy sigh. But he still did not seem to be conscious, so Ed just kept on, focusing on nabbing the glove for himself. It probably wouldn't fit too well, but that didn't matter; all he needed was the flint in the fingertips. He muttered to Roy as he worked, trying to prod him awake as he, as gently as he could, worked the fabric off his limp hand and using the colonel to stave off the panic he still could feel gnawing at the edges of his mind.
He could get through this. Roy had gotten him through so much more before this- and now Roy was the one who needed him.
He could do this.
Glove now in hand, Ed settled back down next to him, still gingerly shaking the limp shoulder next to him as he tried to think. Okay. Okay. Now he had fire. Now he just had to find something to set on fire. Well he was surrounded by all this damn rubble, half of it still cutting into him and pressing into his now many bruises, but that was probably mostly concrete...
At last, still scowling to himself, Ed pushed himself up to his knees to unhook the uniform skirt Havoc had given him this morning. Damn thing had been tripping him up all day, and now it was finally about to get some use. The thing was mostly thick cloth, so it'd probably burn pretty quickly, but there was a lot of it, and the leather belt and metal buckle would surely slow it down. Besides, he didn't need light for all that long- just long enough for him to figure out how to wake Roy up.
Satisfied, Ed wrapped the bundle around the nearest hunk of rubble he could grab, making sure to settle it carefully away from the limp colonel- and from Ed's own foot. Then he set his fingers to it and, just like he had watched Roy do so many times himself, he snapped.
There was no impressive, fancy explosion. There was no neatly controlled shockwave of blast of fire and heat or the crackle of alchemy that he'd watched Roy fight to control, even up to the point of him snapping in that stairwell just minutes before.
There was, however, the heat of a spark between his thumb and fingertip, and then, the immediate satisfaction of the cloth catching fire.
Ed sighed in relief, grinning into the new flickering shadows as he lowered his newly gloved hand to his lap. He knew he wasn't useless. Maybe he was still a massive liability, because he still didn't have a new arm or a leg like Al promised him he usually did, but he at least pull this off. "And all while the bastard slept, too," he muttered to himself, grinning again- but this time, finally able to look back to Roy and see what was wrong.
The light was faint, dancing shadows that flickered along the lengths of the crumbling concrete rubble around them, forcing him to squint and lean just to try and get a better look. It was hard to tell, but it was definitely Roythat was slumped messily beside him, the colonel curled against rough edges with his head pillowed against a jagged shard of rock. His hair hid his face, dusty and ruffled, from what he could see he... he seemed okay...
"Hey, Roy?" he called nervously, shaking at his shoulder again. "Come on, bastard, wake up- wake up..." Anxiously, he moved his hand from his limp arm to his face instead, gently turning it up towards the dim lighting to try and catch a glimpse of his expression.
His stomach clenched in deep, nauseating worry.
His face was worryingly pale against the firelight, shadows dancing along his cheeks as he flinched under the new exposure to light. His eyes were closed tightly and the corners of his mouth tight, grimaces crossing across his face and mutters out his mouth in a way that again confirmed he was alive, but certainly not awake and kicking.
What was most concerning was the trail of black blood, glistening in the fire light, already trickling down from his hairline.
"Damn it, Roy, you can not take another knock to the fucking head- neither of us can take that, you- come on, bastard, wake up! Wake up!"
Roy groaned something, muttering under his breath as Ed shook him, rousing at least a little but not enough. Ed swore under his breath, shifting back to glance over the rest of him, searching for any other injury- damn it, damn it this wasn't good. His left arm was pinned underneath a hunk of concrete that Ed already knew just looking at it he wasn't strong enough to haul off of him, and even if the bastard had been awake he probably wouldn't have the leverage to do it himself.
"Wake up! Bastard, I swear..."
Roy grunted again, head rolling against the rough stones as another pained grimace crossed across his face, mouth twitching. "Wh... what...?" he grumbled, a half-cough, half muffled sort of growl- but it was the best fucking thing Ed had ever heard.
"G-good- good morning, bastard," he gasped, sagging with relief back against his own miserably uncomfortable pile of rubble. "Sleep well?" He dragged a badly trembling hand through his hair as Roy started to squint, obviously in pain but more conscious than before and that was about all Ed could ask for. "Fucking taking a nap in the middle of all of this- what were you thinking?"
Roy grumbled something again, the words incoherent this time as he squinted his eyes open, glaring into the flickering shadows. Slowly, he tensed, starting to try and push himself up with his free hand only to fall still again with a shudder, pain clenching in his jaw again. "What's going-"
He stopped.
His eyes widened.
Nerves clenched anxiously around Ed's heart, his stomach twisting. "What is it? What's wrong?" He leaned forward again, carefully nudging their light closer as he looked the colonel over, searching frantically for some sign of injury that he had missed, something that was hurting him that he hadn't seen- but aside from the blood on his head, he seemed fine, and he wasn't looking at Ed, anyway, he was staring right past him, pale face frozen and eyes huge with a distant, horrified sort of shock-
Like there was nothing wrong with him.
Like...
There was something behind him.
Ed froze.
His stomach dropped.
"R... Roy?" Nervously, shakily, Ed pushed at the colonel's shoulder again, skin on the back of his neck crawling and itching with a sudden cold sweat. He was being paranoid, right? There wasn't anybody behind them. They'd just gotten themselves trapped in a cocoon of rubble; there wasn't any monster in the dark who'd slipped in to stare at them. That was unreal, that was just crazy. Even if Roy was busy still just staring over his shoulder, not saying anything, paralyzed and face frozen in a rictus of horror, even if he- fuck it, bastard, please stop looking like that, please stop looking like that- "H-hey, Roy, w-what's-"
Then, without another the word, the colonel shot forward, his one free arm grabbing at Ed to push him behind him, shielding him as best as he surely knew how, and planting himself right between Ed- and the man in there with them.
An ice cold wave washed over him in instant, unbearable, agonizing terror.
Dusty, bleeding, and crumpled, just like Roy. Plainly obvious that he'd been caught up in the same explosion that had dragged and trapped them both down here, injured from the chaos but upright, steady, and ready to go. There was a gun in his hand that had very clearly been there for a while, lazy and loose but pointed right to them, and waiting across the collapsed, destroyed room and in the fragile, flickering shadows that was all there was to light up his face he seemed gaunt, glaring, dangerous. Inhuman.
Without the doctor's coat, Ed nearly didn't recognize him. With the cajoling, unassuming smile morphed into something dangerously unhinged and passive eyes darkened into a predatory, glaring snarl of a hunter with its prey in the corner, with the blood splattering his face and the furious light burning into his gaze, he almost, almost, did not know who he was.
But he did.
"Well, well, well," the man said again, dangerous smirk broadening into a deadly, hungry, and unabashed smile. "It's been a while, hasn't it? Edward. Roy."
It was Justin.