A/N: I hate to say it, but ch 11 and I have reached a stalemate. Neither of us will admit defeat, and yet neither of us can win. Therefore, what's left to be presented is the fallout of this epic battle. Ok, dramatics aside, the whole point of this chapter is to essentially get us where we need to go for the chapters to come. That being said, it's not like it's strictly a filler. It has important stuff in there too. I tried to make sure of that because I hate "fillers" (what I call literary bridges that serve no purpose but to cover the gaps between more important events and carry the characters from point A to point B in an orderly fashion). I tend to skip over that sort of thing when reading if there's nothing interesting in it to make it worth my time. Hence, I make sure to pepper any filler nonsense with interesting bits and humor so that people hardly notice the gaps. And that's why ch 11 took so bloody long, cuz I hate fillers and wanted to keep things interesting. An "interesting filler" is sort of a paradox (not quite the right word, but such is life) like teaching somebody to be an honest thief. The two concepts simply do not like living in the same space at the same time - aka paradox. You can imagine how creating one tends to be problematic. And so I give you the problematic paradox that is ch 11! WOOHA! (yes, I really did just say "wooha", fight me)
Same disclaimer applies, I don't own FMA or any of the characters therein. Would be nice *sigh* but still not mine anymore than they were in the last chapter.
Chapter 11
What's Been Broken
Roy was just sitting down at an outdoor table at the student union to eat a pre-packaged sandwich he'd probably be better off without when he was hailed from across the quad. It was Jean Havoc, waving like an idiot and trying to get his attention. Roy waved tiredly back so the man would know he could stop flailing before he made himself look more ridiculous than he already did. Riza was walking beside Jean, but she somehow managed to keep her dignity despite her companion's lack thereof.
The pair sat down at the table and Roy asked them, "What's up? You two wouldn't be hanging out together if there wasn't a reason?"
"Sorry to interrupt lunch, chief, but I was kinda hoping you'd know where Boss was hiding out." Jean ran a hand over his reddish blond hair and gave Roy a rueful sort of half-smile his blue eyes offering an apology. Jean looked like everything a stereotypical guy with a sports scholarship ought to look like – well-muscled, confident, carefree, and not too bright. He was truly "living the college life", complete with trying to pick up women, joining a fraternity, going to parties, and avoiding homework. The only thing he applied anything like a work ethic to was football. He attended every practice without fail, and when he wasn't practicing he worked out or went running.
"I am on a similar errand," added Riza, not even letting the fact that she was sitting on what amounted to a cafeteria bench mar the perfect posture with which she sat. Seeing Riza in a pose that was anything less than poised was so rare as to be classified as a mythical phenomenon, so even if somebody claimed to have spotted it, nobody would believe it. Her blonde hair, a shade of gold slightly darker than Ed's, was always swept back neatly and curled into a bun with a single large barrette to hold it in place. Her expression was schooled into an impassive mask that made most people believe her to be cold at best – downright scary at worst – but Roy knew from experience that just because she didn't show her emotions, didn't mean she was without them. It just meant she was more cautious than most. Her smiles may be small, but they were always genuinely warm. It was also possible to occasionally see flashes of what she was feeling by watching for the hints of it in her deep brown eyes. "Apparently, you and Hughes are the only two who have reliable contact information for Edward. So the responsibility of putting us in touch with him falls to you."
"But why do you need to reach him?" asked Roy, already pulling his cell phone out of his pocket.
"Well, I was just trying to reach him because we'd promised to work out together today," said Jean with a shrug. "He was saying yesterday that he's going nuts spending all his time cleaning up. I know he works out sometimes, so I told him we should meet up and spend some time in the gym. But we were supposed to meet an hour ago, and he's still a no-show."
"I only wanted to go over the information that he had given Hughes," explained Riza simply. "Also, Edward had requested another book from me. It took some time to find, so I wasn't able to bring it to him until today."
"I was about to go to the lab to look for Ed when I saw Riza coming out of the lab, and she said he wasn't there and that you were at the student union, so here we are," finished Jean and Riza nodded curtly.
"But you hate going to the lab," said Roy, searching through his contacts on his phone.
"No sh-" Jean cut off the curse with a nervous look at Riza. "No kidding. I don't want nerd cooties. But did you see Ed's eyebags? Dude! He looks like he ain't slept in a month. And he was looking seriously strung out when I saw him earlier. If that kid doesn't get a break soon, he's seriously gonna explode – and I don't mean like 'aaargh' explode, I mean like 'boom' explode. I know the whole science nerd thing is high pressure and all, but damn."
"It's true, Edward has been looking a little tense lately, but I'm sure he'll be fine," said Riza serenely. "He's tougher than he may seem. From what I gather, he seems to me to be the type of man who only becomes more determined when outside pressures are at their strongest."
Roy tuned the pair out at that moment because Ed had answered his phone, and he did not sound like himself. "Hey, love, where are you right now?"
"Walking," answered Ed, sounding almost half-asleep somehow, like he wasn't even aware he was talking.
"Walking where?" Roy asked him.
"I don't know," answered Ed after too long of a pause. "I guess heading back to your house. Nowhere else to go, really."
"Good, I'll be there in a few minutes then," said Roy, trying to sound like it was just a casual decision and not like he was skating halfway down the hill toward panic.
"Why? Isn't it still early?" asked Ed absently.
"There's not much to do right now, and I was getting bored," lied Roy, ignoring Riza's hard-eyed glare. She seemed to have a sixth sense for when he was skiving off of work – and for when something was wrong. Which of the two she was sensing now was anybody's guess, since technically both were true. "I thought now might be a good time for some real coffee."
"Oh, okay," said Ed as if he hadn't really heard and didn't really care. "See ya." Ed hung up and Roy was out of his seat and halfway to his car before his friends could even ask what was wrong.
"Something's up with Ed, I just know it," Roy told them as he fumbled with his car keys.
"Then we'll come with you," decided Riza without hesitation. She really was pretty fond of those Elric boys.
"Hell yeah, if anything's wrong with the Boss, I'm so there," agreed Jean, already jumping into Roy's backseat even as Riza climbed into the passenger seat. Roy didn't feel like wasting time arguing with them. Instead, he started the car and tore out of the parking lot. It didn't take them long to get to the house – Roy only lived a couple miles from the university – and Ed hadn't made it there yet when they arrived. Roy spent the first few minutes pacing, always keeping one eye on the door. When that got boring, Roy fixed himself a cup of coffee, but Riza took it away from him.
"You've clearly had too much caffeine already," she said, forcing him to sit on the couch by benefit of her glare – a glare which had been known to leave lesser men bleeding.
Edward finally walked in, and Roy jumped up, about to rush over to him only to stop short. "Ed, what happened to your face?"
"Oh, um, nothing much," said Ed a bit self-consciously, putting a hand over the blooming bruise on the side of his jaw. "I should probably . . . put something on it." He headed off into the kitchen, and Roy had to force himself to close his mouth once he realized it was hanging open. What could have possibly happened to make Ed's eyes look so . . . hollow? It was like all of the life had been drained out of him. The only thing he could think of that might affect him so deeply would be if something happened to Al, but he would be in a lot worse state than just looking lost if that had been the case. And that's exactly how he looked . . . lost. It was like he had somehow lost his mooring and was drifting without direction.
Roy and his two guests crowded into the kitchen and found Ed sitting on the countertop, holding a package of frozen strawberries against his jaw. Riza reached Ed's side before Roy did, and she made him move the strawberries out of the way so she could see the damage. "What happened Edward?" she asked, sounding downright gentle. It was enough to make both Roy and Jean blink at her in confusion.
"It's nothing," said Ed, looking anywhere but at her face.
"Edward," she said in the sharp tone of a Catholic school teacher – the sort of tone that carried echoes of rulers cracking across knuckles. "Who hit you?" Ed mumbled something in reply, looking down at the package of strawberries he was still holding. "Louder, if you please."
"It was Alphonse," snapped Ed at last. "Look, like I said, it's not a big deal. Brothers fight, that's just . . . how it is." He tried to sound flippant, but that hesitation toward the end made it clear that this wasn't the usual tiff between brothers. And the look on Riza's face made it clear she wasn't going to settle for the non-answer. "It's just . . . Al wants me to do something I really don't want to do . . . and we're both being stubborn and stupid about it. And Al just sort of . . . snapped. It's really my fault . . . because I went over there pissed in the first place . . . That kid is supposed to be at school right now, not hanging out with . . . So, yeah, Al will calm down after a while . . . and I already apologized to him . . . so, yeah . . ."
No wonder he looked so lost. Ed lived and breathed for his brother. If Al was angry enough at him to hit him, Ed had to be mentally beating himself to a bloody pulp. To be honest, it wouldn't even matter if Ed had really been the one in the wrong or not. He would still blame himself for the blow up, because to him Al could do no wrong. Al was all but a saint in Ed's eyes, and no one was allowed to hurt that precious saint, not even Ed. And for all of Ed's honesty about pretty much everything, he could be amazingly opaque when it came to showing his own weakness. He didn't just do it so he could appear strong, he did it so that others wouldn't worry. So, at that moment, for every single ounce of misery they saw on his face, it was likely there were ten more that they didn't see and never would.
"Oh, um, sorry about today, Havoc," said Ed absently. "I know I said we'd meet up. Can we do it another day?"
"Sure, Boss, not a problem," said Jean in a kind tone. "You know, I've got some ointment that's good for bruises. It's in my bag, back at school. I could get it and bring it back and maybe pick up some Chinese food on the way. How's that sound?"
"Sure," said Ed with a soft, tired sigh. "Sounds good." He jumped down off the counter and wove his way between the people in the kitchen. "I need a shower. I've got grass in my hair still." Once he was gone they all sagged – even Riza – all three of them a little relieved and at the same time disheartened.
"Roy, go ahead and take Jean back to the university to pick up his things and his vehicle. Besides, you have work to be getting back to," said Riza, pitching her voice low. "I'll stay here with Edward, so I don't want to hear any excuses from you. You may return home at your usual time."
"But, I should-"
"No argument," said Riza, that Catholic school whip crack voice making him twitch in place. Really, there was just no arguing with her when she was like that. Those who had tried had not fared well, and Roy was very much a fan of faring well. To his surprise, she said in a much softer tone, "Don't worry. Edward will be fine. After a little time and distance from the argument, I'm sure he'll bounce back. Go say your goodbyes."
Roy went upstairs and knocked on the bathroom door. "Are you naked? If so, can I peek?" asked Roy, keeping his tone lighthearted. There was a click as the lock on the bathroom door disengaged, and Roy took it as an invitation and walked in, closing the door behind him. "Hey there sexy," he said, wrapping his arms around the barely dressed blond and reveling in the red that lit Ed's cheeks. Ed still wasn't anywhere close to all right, but it was a good sign that he was responding to Roy's teasing. Roy would take any good sign he could get at the moment. "I have to head back to the lab, but Riza's going to stick around. She said something about peeking at your spy profiles and bringing a book you wanted to borrow. Also, I'm taking Jean back to get his stuff, so he'll be back in a few minutes to hang out too. If you need anything at all, just give me a call. I'll only be a few minutes away."
"I'll be fine," said Ed, but if Roy thought for a second that he meant it he wouldn't be worrying so much. "No slacking off on my account, remember? You should get back to work." He leaned up and kissed Roy in that soft sweet way that felt like coming home, and Roy wished fervently he dared stay. "I'll see you tonight."
"Yeah, I'll try to be home on time, love," promised Roy, stealing another kiss before leaving the younger man to his shower. Walking out that door when every single one of his instincts were screaming at him to stay had to be the hardest thing he'd ever done. Seeing his pitiful state, Riza almost relented and let him stay. But then she firmed her resolve and reinforced his banishment, and all he could do was head out with Jean in tow.
Contrary to what Roy had told Ed, there was actually quite a bit to be done at the lab. However, after the first couple hours, his team sent him home because he was too distracted to do his work at all well. He was a little annoyed about them ordering him out of his own lab, but at the same time, he couldn't help but love his friends for worrying about him. They'd known he was distracted because there was something wrong, and had told him to go home out of kindness. So he promised them he'd return bright and early the next day, and grabbed his stuff to head home.
He had just gotten in the car when his cell phone rang, and he was a little startled by the identity of his caller. "Hey Al, what's going on?" greeted Roy cautiously. "Is everything all right?"
"No, not really," answered Al, sounding miserable. "Have you seen my brother? Either he's in the lab or he forgot to charge his phone again because I haven't been able to reach him."
"He's at the house," Roy told him, wondering if maybe he should ask about the fight. No, he shouldn't. It really wasn't his place. "Riza and Jean are keeping him company. I didn't feel like he should be left alone right now." All right, so Roy didn't want to interfere, that didn't mean he couldn't put a little pressure on the younger brother to fix what he'd broken. Didn't Al know how important he was to Ed? Didn't he know how badly his anger had hurt Ed? If he didn't know it already, he should be made aware soonest. Al was the light of Ed's world, and you can't take something like that away and not expect there to be consequences. "It's been a couple days since we've seen you back at the house. You must have been busy."
"No, not really," Al said again, and this time his voice was somewhere between exasperated and apologetic. "I've been with our dad. Has Ed told you yet who hit him? I know you've seen his jaw. Well, it was me. He was being such a prick, and I lost my temper. He just wouldn't listen at all, and he wasn't even trying to understand. But it's really important that he at least listen to what dad has to say. He came back to keep us safe. I just wanted Ed to understand that."
"Look, I know I'm an outsider, and I'm not going to pretend to know even half of what's going on, but I'm going to throw in my humble opinion anyway," said Roy frankly. "You and I both know that Ed doesn't trust easily. He's open and earnest and honest even when he's trying not to be, but for all the people he's drawn in with his looks and his kindness, he still only has maybe a handful of people he calls his friend, because it takes enormous effort to give them his trust. Have you ever wondered why? Sure, he's probably been hurt plenty over the years. No heart that big is ever going to survive living in this world without getting wounded a few times along the way, but those wounds aren't why he can't trust. It's because once upon a time, when he was still young enough to be impressionable, he watched somebody he loved and trusted walk out the door. He was old enough to remember watching your father walk away. Then, all down the years, every time he needed a parent to shoulder the burdens a child should never have to carry, all the times he wished not to have to handle everything alone, the one person who could have taken that weight away from him was nowhere to be found. He was hurt pretty deeply, but he buried it over the years so that he could keep moving forward. Now, the source of that pain has come back to dig up all that old hurt, and can you really blame your brother for not wanting any part of it. Just because a wound has healed doesn't mean the scar won't still ache, and once you reopen a wound that was once healed, it takes longer to heal the second time. So, no, your brother won't talk to your father. But if what he has to say is really that important, maybe he should tell you, and then you, who Ed loves and trusts above all others, could convey the message to him. If Ed still refuses to listen, I'll help you make him listen to you. But I won't help you make him talk to his father. I won't help you hurt him."
There was a long pause, and Roy started to wonder if Al had hung up somewhere in the middle of that little tirade, but then he heard Al sigh. "All right, I'll discuss it with dad. Please tell Ed to turn on his phone or charge it or . . . whatever. I'll call later."
Al hung up, and Roy leaned forward until his forehead hit the steering wheel. Al was such a sweet kid usually, so Roy felt like he'd just run over a fluffy bunny then backed up to do it again. But it was a necessary evil. Al was so caught up in how happy he was to finally meet his father, and he couldn't understand why his brother wasn't just as happy. He wanted to sweep away all the lonely years and just be a family again. He wanted his family to be whole. Roy could understand how he felt. He'd trade anything to have a chance to meet his long-dead parents, but that wasn't the same thing at all. Hohenheim hadn't died. He'd left. He'd broken their family all on his own, and had made no effort to fix it. So, no, their family would not be whole again anytime soon. Once something is broken, even if it's repaired, it can never be the same again. It can never be truly whole again. Broken things will always carry within them the memory of being broken. That's why it was easier for them to stay broken than to pretend to be whole.
With a long and weary sigh, Roy sat back and started the car. It was past time for him to head home to do some damage control. Ed would not thank him for the little speech Roy had given Al, but to be brutally honest, he hadn't done it for himself anyway. He'd said all that because Ed never would, but somebody needed to. Somebody needed to remind Al of what was important. Al and Ed were a set, not to be sold separately. It had been just the two of them against the world for more than half of their lives. Whoever else wove themselves in and out of their lives – estranged father included – that had always and would always be the one constant. The brothers would always come first for each other, and all others were secondary. Roy hadn't even been around them that long and even he knew that much. Al knew it too, but he had forgotten it because he was caught in the dazzling illusion of something he thought he wanted even more.
When Roy got home, he found Ed and Jean sitting on the floor in the middle of the parlor, surrounded by stacks of records and listening to Harry Chapin's Cats in the Cradle on the record player. "What in the world are you two doing?" asked Roy, stepping carefully so he didn't plant a foot on vinyl record instead of vinyl flooring.
"We're organizing," replied Ed distractedly. "First by genre then alphabetically after that. It's so we can find what we want to listen to more easily."
"We had some trouble finding the right records," Jean told him, giving a Roy look that all but shouted "save me".
Riza was sitting on the couch with Ed's open laptop on her lap and her own open laptop on the sofa beside her. Without looking up, she explained to Roy, "Since he was having so much trouble finding a suitable record, I suggested that he might be better served by organizing the collection. There was a little trouble initially, but things are running more smoothly now that we have system in place." She finally looked up, and thanks to their long friendship, she was able to communicate her intent to him without saying a word. Her message was clear: She'd given Ed this task to keep him distracted and focused, and so far it was working as intended. "What are you doing home so early? Was I not clear that you shouldn't be pushing your work off onto others?"
"They told me to go," Roy told her with a shrug, feeling a bit like a scolded twelve-year-old. She was really entirely too good at that. He made his way through the forest of records to Ed's side and kissed the top of his head. Ed looked up at him, and Roy rejoiced to see at least a tiny spark of Ed's old self burning in those amber orbs. It was a weak spark, granted, but it was enough for now. "Would you like some help, love?"
"If you want," said Ed with a shrug. "I made you a plate. It's in the fridge."
"Thank you, love, I'll go eat then come back and help," Roy told him, and since Ed was still looking up at him, Roy stole a brief taste of warm lips before heading into the kitchen. He pulled his plate out of the fridge and turned to put it in the microwave only to almost drop the plate, his heart just about leaping out of his chest upon discovering Riza standing behind him. How did she always do that? He'd accused Maes of being a ninja before, but they all knew that when it came to the ninja arts Riza was the real master.
"Roy, are you fully aware of what's going on?" asked Riza quietly, and Roy just looked at her, blinking slowly while his brain caught up with the question.
"How do you mean?" he asked in turn.
She let out a tiny frustrated sigh. "I mean the situation with the people that have been chasing the Elric brothers. I read the notebook where the boys had written their notes while translating their father's rather cryptic code. Do you even know what it is this company did with their father's research – what they apparently intended it to do all along?" Roy quirked an eyebrow at her in silent inquiry. "They used his discovery to wipe out an entire town, Roy. The place was obliterated and afterwards they simply covered it up. Hundreds of people died, and this company swept it under the rug. Are you really ready to put yourself in the crosshairs of a company that has the power to do that? Do you really want to go head-to-head with people who are willing to do that?"
As Riza's words hit home, Roy found that he really needed to sit down. "A whole town?" he asked, because, really, what else can you say to that? "It's no wonder Hohenheim doesn't want anybody to get their hands on his research. Is there really no way we can bring them to justice for that if for nothing else?"
"To be honest, I'm not sure," admitted Riza, and Roy felt the ground pulled out from under him all over again. There has never been a time in Roy's memory that Riza has been "not sure" about anything. "If we were digging into this alone, I would say 'no', there is no chance of making this right. However, with the Elrics help . . . maybe. If we're careful, we might be able to make these bastards pay for their crimes. Have you read through the Elrics' notes or those profiles that they've created? Those boys are much more resourceful than law enforcement agencies have been thus far. So, with their resourcefulness and analytical abilities, it might be possible to do the impossible."
"I see," said Roy, more to himself than to her.
"On a more personal note, I am concerned for Edward," she interjected neatly. "He seems to be a bit . . . I don't think 'stressed' is quite the right word for it. Are you certain you're up to the task of helping him through this? I have to be frank with you, I know how you usually handle relationships – on those rare occasions when one of your dalliances stray into deeper waters. Usually, when it gets too deep, you immediately sound the retreat. I don't want to see you do that to somebody like Edward."
Roy wanted to be horrified that she would think that about him, or at least offended, but he couldn't. He knew she was speaking the truth, just like she always did. Riza had been his voice of reason since they were children, and he would always count on her to keep him grounded firmly in reality. But, this time, there was one thing he was completely, totally certain that she had wrong. "To tell you the truth, Riza, I think I was in too deep from the minute I met him. I couldn't back out now if I tried," Roy told her, looking her in the eye so she could see that he meant what he said. The admission left a strange ache in his chest, a breathless feeling akin to fear – or maybe exhilaration – but it wasn't altogether unpleasant. He would live with that ache forever if it meant he could keep waking up to the spread of shimmering gold on the pillow beside him, keep delighting in the privilege of laying hands on the pale gold masterpiece of Ed's body, keep drowning in the sea of passionate emotions hidden in the molten honey depths of those bottomless, too-knowing eyes. When it came to love, Roy was a fool at the best of times, but even a fool would know better than to ever turn aside someone as unimpeachably magnificent as Edward. "I'm not going anywhere. I would never dream of it. Actually, I almost kinda hope that after this is all over, I can talk them into living here in this house more permanently."
"Are you serious?" asked Riza, and it was her turn to look shell-shocked
"I have plenty of space, and I like having him and his brother here," said Roy with a shrug that made the statement seem far more careless than the implications it dragged with it. Roy usually hated having people invade his home. Out of all of the people he'd dated, all the casual affairs that earned him his reputation, never once had he allowed anybody else to even stay overnight in his house. Occasionally, he would have friends come over, but only Riza and Maes – who were as close to him as family – had ever been allowed to stay overnight. Riza knew that, so it made sense that she would be confused. "Over the last several days, and in spite of all the craziness, I've been happier than I can remember ever being. It's weird, I know, but . . . I just can't help myself. And I don't think I'd want to."
Riza took in a long breath as if to sigh, but then her lips curved in a warm smile that was wider than any smile he'd ever seen on her face to date. "I'm glad," she said at last. "It's about time you found happiness. I wish you both all the best."
"Thanks, Riza," said Roy, grinning at her like the idiot he was. "That really means a lot."
Riza finally left Roy to reheat and scarf down his leftover take-out in peace, and when he was done he rejoined the trio in the parlor. He had to scoot over some of the stacks of records to make space to sit, but the small smile Ed gave him in greeting made up for the inconvenience factor. Ed explained his sorting system to him, saying that first they had to put the records in stacks by general alphanumerical groupings – A through D in one stack, E through H in another and so on. After that, they could alphabetize each stack then sort the already alphabetized records by genre. It would be more efficient than sorting by genre first then having to alphabetize each genre separately – it was clearly Riza's suggestion, since efficiency was the only temple at which she bowed.
It was a large collection, so the process took another hour-and-a-half to get through in its entirety. Once the last record had been placed on the makeshift shelves they'd created – let it never be said Ed wasn't good at improvising – Havoc stretched hugely and said, "I don't know about you, but I need to move around a bit to work the kinks out. Hey, Boss, weren't you supposed to show me some of those legendary moves of yours today? How about we go out back, and you show me how to do that stance or whatever that you were talking about?"
"Unbreakable stance," corrected Ed disinterestedly. "Since you helped me with this, I suppose I could. I'll go change clothes." Ed got up and stretched with his usual casual grace and made his way upstairs. Roy got up and stretched too, a little embarrassed that, unlike the two athletes, his joints creaked just a bit. He sat down in one of the room's two chairs with a sigh that spoke volumes for his gratitude that such a thing as a chair even existed (bless you chair, for not being the floor).
"Let me ask you a weird question," said Roy, turning to look at Jean. "Why do you call Ed 'Boss'? I mean, is it a reflex? Is it teasing? Or do you think he's just that scary?"
"All three?" replied Jean, earning himself an impatiently perplexed frown. "A while back, a bunch of the guys on the football team started having trouble with their grades. Not me, of course, since I had Breda helping me out. But it was enough of us that it became a real problem. So the coach bribed the Boss into helping out. I guess the guys gave Ed some problems at first because of," he moved his hand to indicate height, "and you know," he waved his hand to indicate his face, "so the Boss had to set them straight the hard way. Thanks to that, anytime somebody on the team hears the name Ed Elric, they look over their shoulder and make sure he's not there. Even the ones who weren't there have heard the blow-by-blow. One of the cheerleaders commented that they were acting like they were a bunch of mobsters scared of the big boss. So, the football team has been calling him Boss ever since."
"And somehow, my complete lack of surprise is more surprising than your story," said Roy, smirking dryly.
Ed returned, wearing his close-fitting black sweats and a black ribbed tank-top that was so tight it was all but bonded to him on a molecular level. "Woah, dude! Is that the automail?" asked Jean with his usual stunning lack of tact. "The guys mentioned it and all, and they said it was pretty badass, but this is my first time seeing it. I've seen automail before, but it's always clunky. But yours is almost the exact same size and shape as your arm."
"That's mostly Winry's design. I just helped her decrease the size of the internal mechanisms so she could reduce the size of the casing without risking problems with heat exchange and conductivity . . ." Ed stopped at the complete incomprehension on Jean's face. "I made the insides smaller so that she could make the outside smaller," he enunciated and Jean made an "oh". Ed just shook his head and walked past them towards the backyard. He had his hands in the pockets of his sweats which naturally pulled them even tighter across his ass. This meant that as he walked by, three heads cocked to the side as one to appreciate his retreat. Roy was suitably shocked that Riza and Jean were staring, but considering the content of the show they were watching, he couldn't say he blamed them. "No staring at my ass. Don't think I can't feel your fucking eyes," growled Ed. Two of the three straightened and had manners enough to blush and look contrite. "That means you too Mustang. TPO."
"Say what?" asked Roy.
"Time, place, and opportunity," replied Ed, turning to glare at him.
"Well, it was at this time and in this place that I had the perfect opportunity," said Roy, unrepentant. "Besides, if you don't want anyone looking, you should take your hands out of your pockets. You're showcasing, love."
"I seriously feel that if you have not died by the age of forty of something whose first symptom is testicular necrosis, there is no justice in this world," said Ed wistfully before finally heading out the back door.
"Damn, harsh!" chortled Jean as he followed Ed out the back door.
Riza and Roy exchanged a look, Riza's lips twitching in the barest hint of suppressed laughter, then the of them followed after the pair. The pair of spectators sat on the porch swing under the shade of the overhead trellis and watched as Ed tried to explain concepts like center of gravity and weight distribution. He demonstrated by letting Jean try to tackle him – try being the operative term. No matter what Jean tried he simply couldn't budge Ed. He even tried lifting him, but Ed stayed rooted to ground. It shouldn't have been physically possible, but there it was.
"You weigh, what, two-ten? I weigh maybe a buck seventy with the automail, and yet you can't move me even with momentum on your side," began Ed in a very teacher-like tone. Because of Ed's age, it was easy to forget that he was, in fact, a university professor. This was Roy's first time seeing Ed in full teacher mode. He was patient – which was actually pretty shocking, given Ed's general lack patience at any other time – but he was also firm, demanding, persistent, and very unflappable. He brooked no nonsense and refused to take "I don't know" as an answer, but he was also willing to explain carefully and took notice of when the student clearly didn't get it. It made Roy want to try sitting in on one of Ed's classes.
The lesson went on until nearly sunset, and Jean had no choice but to leave to go to football practice. He thanked Ed profusely and promised to tell the other guys "hey" for him, then took off. Ed let out a heavy sigh and reached up to pull the rubber band from his hair, shaking his braid loose and working the knots out with his fingers. Roy started to say something but then stopped, unable to remember what he was going to say as he stared in awe at the vision before him.
The sun was sinking below the horizon and casting a ruddy glow over Ed, who stood there a moment with his eyes closed as he let the autumn wind cool the sweat on his skin. His automail fist was clenched at his side, the metal arm gleaming in the colors of the sunset, red and orange and vivid pink. With the dusk-painted sky as his backdrop and the waning sun setting the gold of his hair and skin ablaze, he wasn't just beautiful, he was radiant. The moment didn't last long, but it was well worth pausing to watch, putting all other thoughts on hold to simply drink in the sight.
"Yeah, I can definitively say I will never get tired of having him around," Roy whispered to Riza, the note in his voice the sort reserved only for prayers. Clearing his throat, Roy said for Ed's benefit, "Maybe you ought to take another shower, love. I think there's grass in your automail and a little bit of mud in your hair."
"Shit," muttered Ed then he let out a sigh. "I'll get dinner started after my shower. Are you sticking around to eat, Hawkeye?"
"What do you plan to make?" she asked him, eyes narrowed in suspicion.
"Don't worry, Ed's pretty handy in the kitchen," Roy reassured her.
"Then I would be delighted," said Riza, giving Ed her warmest smile. "Thank you for inviting me."
"Sure," said Ed, and this time he was giving Riza his "you may actually be an alien" look. After a moment of staring at her with his head cocked to the side, he finally shrugged then went inside to shower.
"Alphonse called me earlier," Roy told Riza since Ed was well and truly out of earshot. "He wants Ed to at least listen to their father, but Ed wants nothing to do with the man. I can't blame him, and won't force him. But I can't help but wonder exactly what it is Hohenheim has to say. Does it pertain to this case? Or is it just that he wants to explain his reasons for leaving?"
"It would certainly be easier if Ed would simply sit down and listen to him," said Riza, pondering the issue. "But you and I know a little something about what it means to cut ties with those whose presence is harmful to mental and physical well-being." They did indeed know, since they'd done exactly that with Riza's father. He had been a brilliant scientist once, and a mentor and father figure for Roy in his own way, but he had also been slipping toward insanity for years. Finally, Riza and Roy had both decided to have him committed, and eventually cut ties with him altogether for everyone's peace of mind. The man was paranoid, and in his fear, had treated his daughter cruelly. Much of Roy and Riza's closeness was born from the difficulties they'd suffered together as they'd broken off their connection to Berthold Hawkeye. It was no wonder Riza related so well to Ed who also shared a stormy and overall unfortunate relationship with his father. "Maybe if we can at least find out what the subject of his father's message is, we might be able to decide whether to advise Ed to keep his distance or attempt to listen. Are you able to contact Alphonse? He might be biased on the topic, but he would also be the best person to give us the perspective we need in order to proceed."
"I did tell Al that he'll need to be the one to convey his father's message to Ed, but you may be right about getting some perspective," said Roy, pulling out his phone as he thought about the problem. Rather than call Al, he decided to text him the question then waited impatiently for the reply. When his phone sang out the ringtone Ed had given him to use for Al – the same one Ed used, because Roy could appreciate the pun too. "Hey, what's up?" said Roy in greeting.
"I can ask him, but I'd like to know why you want me to, if you please," said Al, his tone polite but crackling like a command.
"I was talking to Riza about the problem, and she suggested maybe if we knew a little bit more about what's going on we might be able to help Ed make the right decision," Roy told him bluntly. "We want what's best for him. If keeping him away from your father is better for him then we'll back his decision. If it's better for him to sit down and talk to him then we'll help convince him. What it comes down to is that if this conversation has nothing to do with getting you guys out of your current troubles then no dice. Anything else will just be to satisfy your father's selfish need for absolution and will have nothing to do with helping Ed, and may in fact only hurt him even worse than he's been hurt already. Like I said before, I won't help you hurt Ed. That's all there is to it."
"I get it," said Al with a heavy sigh. "Let me see what I can do."
"Thank you, Al," said Roy, and he meant it. It couldn't be easy for Al either. All he wanted to get to know the man he had spent almost his whole life wondering about. It's true that Ed had done his best to fulfill the roles of mother, father, and big brother, but there was only so much he could do. Al wanted to fill the gaping hole left in his life by the absence of any parents. Roy could sympathize. That didn't mean that Ed felt the same as Al, and it was important to respect that difference. Maybe if Hohenheim had returned even just a couple years ago, things may have been different. But the long stretch of lonely years had only fed the bitterness toward Hohenheim until it choked all other emotions Ed might have felt for the man he would barely call "father" and would never call "dad".
Returning his phone to his pocket, Roy told Riza Al's answer, and she simply nodded her acceptance. The two of them went back into the parlor and waited for Ed to come down. Al's return call didn't come until Ed was already in the middle of cooking dinner. Al said only that he was on his way to the house, and Roy didn't know whether he should happy about that or not. He did, however, know that he needed to let Ed know.
"Love, I just got off the phone with Al. He says he's on his way back," said Roy, and the reaction was not what he expected. Ed abruptly tensed, the spoon he'd been holding clattering to the floor to splash sauce all around where it landed.
"Shit, sorry," muttered Ed, bending down to pick up the spoon then carrying it to the sink to wash. "He probably won't stay though. He's just coming to talk me isn't he? Because I haven't been answering my phone?"
"Pretty much," said Roy, feeling like he should apologize for instigating the return. "Why haven't you been answering the phone? I thought maybe that was only incidental, but you intentionally turned off your phone, didn't you?"
"Yeah," said Ed, returning his attention to pot on the stove.
"But why?" demanded Roy. "Especially now when you have dangerous people after you, not being able to contact you scares the hell out of those of us who need to know you're all right."
"Sorry, I just figured it'd be fine since I was here, and you know the people I was with. I'd already attended my morning classes and got a sub to take my afternoon classes since I wasn't sure how long it would take me find Al. So, the only person who would be trying to call me right now would be Al, and . . . I wasn't ready to . . . to talk to him yet," explained Ed quietly. "I needed to get my head straight first. Still not quite there yet, but I'll make do I guess."
"Don't worry about it so much, love," said Roy, wrapping his arms around Ed's slender waist from behind and pulling him closer. Roy kissed the nape of Ed's neck and nuzzled the tense line of his jaw, pleased when Ed relaxed into his embrace. "It'll be fine. You two love each other, and you'll get through this just like you've gotten through everything else. You're too stubborn to do otherwise."
"I hope your right," whispered Ed. "I really do."
