OUR LIVES, CHAPTER 7: SPACE TO BREATHE

By The Binary Alchemist, 2012

Fortune-telling was rubbish as far as Roy was concerned—however when Havoc pulled the car up to the back entrance of Rose Hill the hair on the back of his neck stood at attention. Was that stubborn twig of hair that sprouted above Ed's forehead some sort of antenna, specifically tuned to broadcast ill omens? His lover had been in a reasonably mellow mood this morning, following a night that involved quite a lot of mattress-bending athletics that left both of them with stiff necks and slightly bruised lips—and mutual smiles.

Years of practice had taught him to slam on the mental brakes before stepping into a potentially stressful situation. He diverted his mind to thoughts of the honeymoon to be planned, preferably fifty kilometers away from the press and his personal handlers. A rustic cabin somewhere sounded good to him. In his mind he caught hold of a pleasant image of sitting on the front steps of a cabin at dusk, dinner sizzling on a spit and Ed beside him, smelling of wood smoke and hair wet from skinny dipping with Roy in a creek and his own comforting musk-metal scent. He held that image tightly, took a slow breath and then stepped inside to greet the pandemonium.

"EDWARD!" Sheska was waving her arms wildly, glasses at half-mast on the end of her nose. "Please! You're vulturing me!"

"I gotta know what it says!"

"She's trying to read it, idiot!" Ruby shouted. "Back off—she can't even breath with you swarming over her like a blowfly—"

"She's taking too long—"

"—and it's going to take her forever if you don't shut up, back off, and leave her the hell alone—"

"Edward." The voice was low, soft and authoritative. "In my office. It's important."

Edward's eyes were blazing. "Not as much as this book!"

"What book?"

"This!" Ed snatched at the brown paper bound galley proof volume, trying to yank it away from Sheska, who hugged it close to her meager bosom. "This! This piece of crap that's going to ruin your life!"

"Edward….stop." The dark eyes held him. "I must talk with you. Now. Please." He nodded towards his office. "I'll be right there." They locked eyes for several uncomfortable moments but there was no challenge in Roy's gaze. Uneasy, Ed dropped his eyes and sighed. "Okay," he finally sighed. "I'll….whatever…"

As soon as he was gone, Roy laid his hand on Sheska's shoulder. "I'm sorry about that. Is this the biography everybody is getting so perturbed about?" She nodded, looking miserable, making apologetic noises about not having read and memorized the book yet—she'd had it less than half an hour. Roy laid his finger to his lips and shushed her gently. Down on one knee, they were on eye level. "Sheska…." His voice was very soft, very kind. She hadn't noticed before how lovely his eyes were—so dark and liquid and thickly lashed…and his low voice was like velvet against her spine. "I'm so sorry about all this. Edward is concerned—and maybe there's nothing in that rubbish to be concerned about. I'm a public figure. I've been shot at with bullets—and hit a time or two. Words aren't likely to do me much harm, but Edward gets so protective about his friends and family.." The hand on her shoulder seemed to grow warmer by the moment. "Sheska…nobody I know has a talent like yours. Eidetic memory is so rare. Nobody knows better than me what you've done for this country—especially when General Hughes needed you the most. Now," he turned his smile upon Ruby, "I want Chef Ramsay to make you an amazing meal and set you up in the conservatory—an indoor picnic, if you like. Relax and enjoy yourselves, and when you're rested and ready….would you mind reading this…trash…so we know what this….person…knows…and then hopefully we can forget this? I'll manage Edward and keep him out of your hair. Will you help me, please?"

Ruby, immune to the patented Mustang Charm® , wisely refrained from making vomiting noises, Sheska, caught in her superior's spell, swallowed hard and nodded. "Wonderful….and Sheska?"

"S-sir?"

"I hope you and your mother like the Lake Region. It's warm, and you mustn't forget your swimsuit when I send the two of you on holiday over Solstice. Ruby? Please ring for Sebastian. Give your picnic order to him and Ramsay will have you set up properly. Oh, and have him send up a couple of beers and a tray of sandwiches to my office." He nodded and disappeared through the office doors.

"Manipulative bastard," Ruby groused.

"With amaziiiiiiing eyes," Sheska qualified, looking slightly bedazzled.

###

He was a good boy. A good boy, the best in the world. She knew it in her heart, and for the last twenty years she gave thanks for his sweet soul and gentle spirit from the moment a sorrowful Edward Elric brought her the oh-so-tiny and helpless infant, curled up on the folds of Edward's tattered red coat.

Grumman let her keep him. Let her? In lucid moments she balked at that thought a little. After all, admittedly, he wasn't her flesh—or King's, for that matter. His making was something she didn't dwell upon. When King chose her and brought this child to her as a family orphan she had loved him from the very first. "What an unusual name!" she exclaimed, smiling down at the beautiful little boy. "Is it a family name, dear?"

"I don't believe so," King had told her. "Let's look it up in a baby book, shall we?"

It took them awhile but eventually King had an answer for her. "Selim means 'peace', according some of the ancient texts about Xerxes. Imagine—a name so very ancient. I wonder where they discovered it. Well," he patted her arm fondly, "he's certainly brought peace and happiness to us, my dear, wherever the name came from."

The truth, when it was finally revealed to her, was almost impossible to bear. Her husband was dead—had given an order to kill everyone except Mustang alone. Her King had possibly given an order to terminate her life…and yet she loved him, loved him as she had loved no other person save only the beautiful son he had brought to her. Had she really known the man who wooed her so ardently and won her heart all those years ago? Had he truly known what kind of creature he had brought into their home or had King been as innocent as she had been?

In the end, she didn't know and it didn't truly matter. This boy was the most precious joy of her life, even if his mind had not developed as his body had. He would be her little boy forever and ever and nobody would ever separate them…

…unless the Fuhrer chose to destroy him.

That was the pact she had agreed to with Grumman. She could love Selim, shelter him, raise him as her own—even give him the legal name 'Selim Bradley'. Whether or not she could keep him forever would be dependent on whether or not Selim became Pride again. Should those memories stir, the Fuhrer had no choice but to take her precious son away and…and…

"I won't think about that," she told herself. "He's a very, very good boy."

She had her good days and days when she would forget to turn the gas burner off the stove. Selim diligently followed behind, turning off the water taps, the stove burners, finding where she left her glasses or her daily medications. He heated her canned soups and could make a sandwich for her without cutting himself when she wasn't quite up to cooking their meals or keeping house for them.

But she was growing older and forgetful and in her lucid moments she was heartsick to think who would care for her wonderful little boy when she could no longer take care of herself. It saddened her to think that she could not make that determination herself. It would be made by the kindly, elegant man who was coming to see them at teatime tomorrow—the man who ruled Amestris in King's stead: Roy Mustang.

###

Before Ed could speak, Roy lifted his hand. "Fire minutes. Give me five minutes to say what I need to say and then you can yell as much as you want."

Ed was about to blurt out an argument. Wisely, he bit it back and nodded. "Go ahead."

Roy's hands rested heavily on his shoulders. "Right now…right now…I need to keep calm. The odds are that there is nothing in that book that hasn't either come out or been speculated before by someone else. I know who this author is. I know what she did to Grumman's career. I know what she tried to do to the Armstrongs. We won't know until Sheska is done. She's the right person to help us and I'm going to make sure she's rewarded AND well paid for this. She needs time and quiet to do what she does best—and even though I know you're worried, we both need to leave her in peace until she's read it and made notes. I told her to have dinner and to take her time and do this accurately.

"Now…if you think I don't have a clue what the implications could be over this piece of trash, you're wrong. I do. Depending on who her sources are there could be material in that book that could hurt others—I'm not concerned about what she says about me personally. If she hurts others or risks national security, I'm going to get angry. You've seen me when I'm really angry. You know that's not a good thing. If anything-any details—about the Promised Day or Father or Bradley's involvement is in there…I am going to have to keep my temper in check. I. Do. Not. Want. To. Lose. My. Temper. Not again." His words were spoken with great care and articulation, and the implications behind those words were so strong that even Edward couldn't miss them. "I do not want Colonel Hawkeye to have to fulfill her obligation to hold me accountable for my actions. You are aware of the threats she made to herself if she were called to shoot me as directed. We are not playing that scene a second time. And so," his arms slid around Edward's shoulders and drew him close, "I am asking you to help me to stay calm. Right now, this is what I need." Roy maneuvered his lover into a very tight embrace, his chin resting on the younger man's shoulder, his lips against Edward's ear. "As much as I love to fuck…and you know I love to fuck…that's not what I need right now. Just…be here. I need space to breathe before we find out what we're dealing with. You okay with that?"

"…..yeah…" Edward studied his lover for several moments then led him over to the sofa. "C'mere." He fitted himself into his favorite corner and pulled Roy down beside him. "Turn around." He helped Roy out of his jacket and began digging his fingers into tight muscles. "Damn…that's harder than your dick. Take a breath." Lifting his knee he positioned it between Roy's shoulder blades and pulled his lover slowly back. There was a series of loud popping noises. "Teacher used to do this to Sig all the time—showed me how to do it. Better?"

"Yeah. Thanks." The fingers kneaded and prodded and then the hands stroked until Roy sighed heavily and leaned back against Edward's chest, the younger man's arms wrapped around him, his head resting against Ed's cheek.

A while later Sebastian brought in an enormous sandwich constructed of a whole loaf of crusty bread, paved with cold cuts and cheeses and vegetables. It was accompanied by a big basket of crisp fried potatoes and a bucket of ice filled with long necked beers. "Notice he left the onions off," Roy smirked.

"And why is there a crock of butter next to the mustard?" Ed wanted to know.

"Because he's put up with us for fifteen years and knows us too damn well."

Ed looked thoughtful. "You don't think Sebastian would-"

"-talk to Winchell? Absolutely not. And if he suspected anyone else in the house had, he'd have come to me…or handled it himself. He does keep a coil of garroting wire in his pocket, you know." Ed shuddered. It was sometimes hard to reconcile the stately major domo who ran the house with quiet efficiency with his deadly skills as a Black Ops security agent. Any intruder that managed to breach the security at Rose Hill would be better off being shot by a guard than to fall into Sebastian's gloved hands. "And if we start getting paranoid and looking for moles we'll drive each other and everyone around us out of their minds."

They demolished the gargantuan sandwich and had curled up with a couple of good books, eventually dozing off. During that time Maes came in, whistling off key, filthy and smiling from his workshop. Spying Sheska at her desk, the younger Elric gave her a playful wolf whistle. "So this is where they're hiding all the beautiful women! I need to come home early more often!"

His cheery smile evaporated when he saw the look on her face. "Hey…what's wrong?" he asked gently, perching on the corner of her desk. "Is Dad being an asshole again or something?"

Sheska shook her head sadly and held up the book. Maes drew back comically and made one of those gestures that old Drachman babushkas made to ward off evil. "The only thing Kelley Winchell's books are good for," he stated firmly, "is for driving rats out of the pantry—they are the ultimate repellant. Nina won't touch her books without rubber gloves. I don't blame her." He peered at the title and made a face. "So…going after Uncle Roy—probably Dad and Uncle Maes too. If Uncle Alphonse hadn't raised me to be a gentleman I could make a few observations on her morals-assuming she has any."

"She hasn't," Sheska told him. "Maes, this is so bad…so bad…"

Edward's son reached for the book, holding it between his fingers as if it had been dipped in raw sewage. "Who publishes this crap?" He examined the book's spine much as he might have examined a smear of dog shit on his boot. 'Dickon and Howe and Sons' Hmmm….seem to remember them. Ol' Dick'em And How, Son, we call 'em. They publish lots of cheap paperback man-on-man wankables one finds in the lavatories in the boy's dorms." He winked again at the horrifed expression on Sheska's face. "Not that I would know anything at all about wanking, mind you." He flipped through a few pages. "Well, no naked pictures. That's a relief. Uncle Roy would probably worry that the keyhole camera used to take naughty snaps of him and Dad might add five pounds to his boyish figure. Of course, that depends where those five pounds are added, I suppose…"

"Maes, be serious! This is terrible-the things she's got in there about the President—"

Maes lifted his hand to quell her outburst. "Okay, okay. So it's shit between dustcovers and it's probably got stuff that shouldn't see the light of day. Am I right? Have you talked to Dad and Uncle Roy yet?"

"Not yet."

"Okay. Suppose you give me the skinny first. Warts and all. "

"—but—"

Golden eyes flashed with the same gleeful malice she'd seen long ago in his father's own eyes. "Nobody messes with my family. I don't get mad…I get even."

###

Five little words.

Amazing that a man could be enslaved, his mind turned to goo, his loins to iron and his will to putty with five little words.

Alphonse was, if anything, a bigger babe magnet than Mustang, possibly even more than King Claudio of Aerugo. The lace on women's panties had been known to ignite whenever Al tossed them his sincere, boyish grin.

He smiled at Gladys. Listened to her. Made useful suggestions. Bought her a lovely dinner and even knew what wine she liked—wine, not hard liquor. At dinner she found him charming and smiled and nodded and listened to him. She would be good, she promised, and make this gala a success.

Then Alphonse went to the men's room and Gladys Turlough enslaved Jean Havoc with five little words:

"Can I have a cigarette?"

With trembling hands, he put two between his lips, grateful that he didn't accidentally shove them both up his nose. Lighting them both, he passed one to her. She took a deep drag and then blew out a stream of smoke from pursed lips he'd fantasized around his cock earlier.

"I like Alphonse," she confided. "I do. I really do…but…" She leaned in close. "I just love a man in uniform." Her fingers slid under the table and brushed his thigh. "Especially a big strong country boy who knows how to treat a lady."

A few hours later, after he'd volunteered to walk her home, she proved that she knew how to treat a man.

Baby pink lipstick on his boxers was only the start. She did things to him that were probably illegal in some countries. Things that defied the laws of man and gods and physics. She licked places he didn't think he could pay a woman to lick and when she showed him pictures of herself romping naked with another woman, doing astonishing things to one another with an empty champagne bottle, she told him, "that was fun…but you're more my size, Country Boy."

It was a quarter past three when he slipped in the front door, closing it gently behind him. He reeked of sex and wine and sweat and if Riza gave him a kiss she'd know exactly where his mouth had been half the night. Thankfully she didn't wake up.

He loved her. He really, really loved Riza, but—

She would only let go of her reserve so far…so far and no further. And besides,' he told himself, he was never sure if she was making love to him or pretending he was someone else, someone she flat out wasn't going to have.

So…maybe he couldn't justify it…but damn it was good to be wanted, craved, coaxed and teased. And she shaved it…and showed it off to him, demonstrating exactly where she wanted his tongue. If he'd even suggested Riza do such a thing she'd have shoved the barrel of her service revolver up his ass and emptied the clip.

Or would she….?

###

Nina was tired when she came in. Her brother was foraging in the kitchen for snacks when she greeted him on her way in search of a cup of chamomile and spearmint tea to help her rest. "How's Sheska doing with the book?"

"She's done—and done in. I told Sebastian to set her up in the guest room. She's earned a good night's sleep."

Nina tilted her head and studied her brother's expression. "Not good, I take it?"

"Dad's gonna crap live kittens—and Uncle Roy-well, he's gonna tell us it doesn't matter until he finds out some of the stuff in there. And y'know, the really bad part is she's got it all wrong."

"Well of course she got it wrong, you numbskull! That…that…twat…is doing a hatchet job on our stepdad. I'm not sure I can read it without sedation, myself."

"Nobody picks on your 'Wroy'" her brother teased gently. "And nobody messes with Dad—or Uncle Al…or Aunt Riza—or even Grandpa Hohenheim."

"You have a plan, I take it?"

He tugged on his ponytail. "I'm open to suggestions."

"You want to sleep on it, or should I make some coffee and grab my notebook?"

It was nearly 4am when Maes noticed the light in the office. There was faint snoring from the other side of the door.

Tiptoing in, he saw his father and stepfather, snoring softly in each other's arms on the sofa. Neither one had taken off his reading glasses and the books were still in their hands.

He carefully folded up both pairs of spectacles and placed them beside the bookmarked texts. He smiled fondly at the pair. I'm a lucky feller he told himself. Cared for by these two. About damn time I pay some of that back….

###

"I come about the janitor job?"

The young man—a student, it looked like, wore a neat cap over his long chestnut hair and there was a slight greenish tint to his wire-rimmed glasses. He was pointing at the sign in the window of Dickon and Howe and Sons Publishing that read NOW HIRING CLEANING STAFF—NIGHT SHIFT WANTED. "Eh….need something to make ends meet between classes, son?"

"Aye, sir," the boy nodded, tugging his cap and smiling. He had a pleasant face and a backwoods provincial Southern accent. "Used t'mop up my Grandad's butcher shop. Powerful lot of cleaning, that was. An' I'm strong. Payin' my own way through school. Workin' afternoons sweeping and moppin' the classrooms at the Hohenheim." He flashed a winning grin. "Give me a chance, eh?"

The manager looked him up and down. Good broad shoulders, and honest calluses on his hands. His clothes were plain but neat and clean and the eyes behind those tinted lenses were wide and sincere. "Fair enough, son. What's your name?"

"Call me Curtis. Urey Curtis. Named for both my granddads."

"Right, then, Curtis. Be back at nine, sharp. Tea break at midnight. Lock up at two."

"Will do, sir—and I give you my word," he laid his hand over his breast pocket where his supply of alchemical chalk was stashed, "I'll do you such a good job cleanin' up you won't know the place when I'm done!" He was touching his cap and backing out the door when he accidentally collided with a slender, bookish-looking girl whose brown hair was pinned up in a knot on her head.

"This where they's hiring?

"Yeh, might do. Only they just took me on!" he snapped his braces proudly.

"Right, but you don't seem the type to put a high polish on things, son." She offered her hand to the manager. "I'm Chris," she told him bluntly. "Chris Renback. I'm a Rush Valley girl and used to polish up the automail in my stepdad's shop. You want that lobby to shine like sun on steel, I'm your girl—and I work nights if you need me." A piece of chalk dropped out of her skirt pockets. "I work part time in the café on campus—I was chalking out the menu board before I got here. Well?" Her dark eyebrows arched sharply. "You going to take me on or not?"

Her penetrating green stare unnerved the manager. "Yes…yes, Miss Renback. You and Curtis here can start tonight at nine."

Maes and Nina Elric shook hands. "I suppose so—as long as this brute stays out of my way when I've got mopping to do."

"Awww, not to worry, Miss Christmas. I'm sure after 'while we'll get on like brother and sister!"

….TO BE CONTINUED…