Price-
Rule Number Two: Remain emotionally detached from situations.
Wasn't that what he was taught? Was he not told to abide by that no matter what, and even in his personal life, not just his work? Then why couldn't he listen?
People were dead because of his choice, more were destined to die each day. Who was he to tread upon their peaceful lives for no real reason other than to make some cash?
He had asked that once, and received an answer that he hadn't wanted, but an answer nonetheless.
'That's life kid. You gotta spend life to make life. Some animal groups kill off the old to make way for the young, so tell me, how is this any different?'
I don't know, he had replied. And to his amazement, he still possessed no answer.
But the job he had to do this day haunted him all through his sleep and breakfast. "Remain detached, huh? Easier said than done…" Ed mumbled past his toast.
Detached was something he could do perfectly most times, yet now, to kill an innocent woman, seemed impossible. He had sworn to never kill a woman, and here was a greedy pig of a man telling him to do so. With nearly a thousand dollars riding on this though, he had to do it. They needed the money.
Edward nodded while drinking his juice determinedly. If he wouldn't do this for himself, then he had to do it for Al.
After all, his brother was taking an advanced mechanics course in a university, and that class required some big cash. Cash that Ed refused to let Al work himself for. He wanted him to put all of his thoughts on his studies and focus on school. Something that he never had the chance to do.
He would do this for Al.
Sighing in acceptance, Ed left his plate in the sink and went to check on his sick sibling.
The sight of Alphonse lying, nearly half asleep met him. He smiled at the tousled form and resumed his previous place of placing a cool cloth over the burning forehead, in hopes of breaking the fever. Al moaned and leaned into the cold paradise.
That was another problem.
The job he had been hired to do had to be completed that same day, regardless of any excuse he could pull up. It was either obey the orders, or lose the pay. And he really couldn't afford the latter.
So, after swallowing much of his pride, Edward leaned over and picked up the telephone, admitting that he needed someone's help.
"I must say that when you phoned me, this certainly wasn't what I had expected."
Ed glared while daring the other to comment further.
"Not that I don't mind watching your brother. Because I have nothing in my busy life to attend to."
Finally, he snapped, "Shut up you bastard! I happen to know that you only work the night shifts, so you don't need to be anywhere until seven."
Roy sighed disapprovingly, "Edward, work is not the only thing on my list of to do things. I do have a life believe it or not." He smirked condescendingly, "Unlike some unfortunate people."
"Bastard," Ed hissed as he put on his coat.
Mustang shifted his weight in the chair onto his left side. "You said you needed me to come because you had to work?"
Ed nodded.
"Exactly where do you work?"
He left before anything more could be said.
This was all he had to do.
He held the knife up.
Kill this woman when she was not looking and then flee the scene.
His hand trembled.
God, where was his nerve?
"Goodbye Ross, see you after your lunch break!" A voice called and he knew that this was his opportune chance.
But, hell, he knew her.
It may have not been as intimate of an acquaintance as Roy was. Still, this woman was like his surrogate mother when his own passed away and he followed Mustang to work. She would be there, watching out for him, making sure he stayed out of trouble, and consoling him when he needed it most.
How could he kill her?
It was either this woman's life or Al's future, and he was having the hardest time deciding.
Edward gripped the handle of the blade tightly, his nails making small indents in his leather gloves.
Shit, he nearly killed Roy last night, so what was the big deal now?
She was walking right past him, who was hiding in the bushes, and was headed, to her vehicle. No one else was around, he surveyed with a quick jolt of his head. There would be no crowd this time to witness what he was going to do.
Al, his brother or Maria Ross, his friend. He had to make the choice.
Al…
Ross…
Al…
He saw her cerulean eyes life up to the bright sky and he chose, forgetting his conscience entirely.
Al!
His insides screamed when the blade was jaggedly ripped from her chest and she staggered back. Edward straightened his back, tears dawning in his eyes as hers met his.
She seemed confused at first, not having seen him in so long, and not really realizing what had hit her. Only that a dull throbbing was casually growing just under her breastbone.
"E-Edward?" Her ragged voice gasping for air tore at his insides.
Giving her some piece of mind, he whispered a quiet, "Yes."
And when she opened her bloodied lips to ask him why, why he had done this and why had he betrayed her, her body fell silently to the stone ground.
Ed turned away, wiping the trails from his face and left, seeking his payment.
Rule Number Three: Always follow Number Two.
Roy Mustang wouldn't admit that he was worried, for himself and for Ed.
He had been thinking about it since the blonde had left a helpless boy in his care, trusting him completely without another word on the subject. And he truly felt that maybe something was still salvageable from what they had.
But, the fact that Edward had nearly ended his life haunted his thoughts. No, that wasn't it. The idea that Ed had nearly killed him was not his problem; it was that he had almost killed period. He'd said that he was the unlucky soul who had to end his life. Did that mean he really was a criminal or a murderer without his own free will?
Such foreboding thoughts were what caused Roy to ask the question to Al when he had awoken in a delirious state.
"Alphonse, where does you brother work?"
Sure, he felt a little bad at what he was doing. Sneaking around behind Ed's back and asking questions to his relative. Although, because Al was delirious, and not quite sure of where or what he was, Mustang had a feeling that the answer may be more towards the truth than a cover up lie to protect Ed.
"Mmm? Brother works late, you know…"
Roy gave Alphonse a sip of water as a payment (and possible bribe for a further explanation).
"Does he? Why is that?"
Al rolled to face him and cupped a hand over his mouth and whispered, like a small child would when trying to keep a secret they were sharing quiet. "Yeah, and sometimes he smells funny when he gets back. He falls asleep and I check on him and he smells like…" He paused dramatically, "…iron."
Face turning rather puce at the indication Roy urged him to continue.
Giggling softly, Al began to speak louder, "And sometimes, even his clothes are stained really dark, if you touch them your fingers turn red." He suddenly snuggled into the covers, "But Brother doesn't want me to know that. He says it isn't important."
"I'm sure it isn't," Roy lied, ignoring what he really wanted to say and instead conveying the underlying fears of the boy.
He set Mr. Sprinkles (whom had journeyed with him to the Elric residence) onto the bed and left, closing the door quietly.
So, was it true?
Mustang braced his back onto the hallway's wall and stared at a picture of Ed dressed as a vampire for Halloween, smiling carelessly, his fangs flashing in the camera's light.
Was Edward really trying to kill him in that alley?
When he heard the front door close loudly and footsteps tromp up the stairs he decided that he would ask the blonde mystery himself.
Whatever the cost.
Edward tried to think positive, after all, he made a great profit and the day was still young. But, the sweat and blood soaked face of a woman who had trusted him disturbed his attempts to be optimistic.
Besides, what if Roy found out what he had done: Killed a friend of his who he used to work with?
He shuddered at the thought.
From the looks of it, Mustang had already taken a large enough hit for him, and felt the results whether he wanted to or not. Ed refused to let him do it again.
There was, however, one thing that bothered him.
Was it not rather curious that, not necessarily he, but someone would be paid off to kill two people who were involved with the police? (Or had been in Mustang's case.)
And why did he feel like he had seen that 'Park Bendley' somewhere before?
As he met Mustang's perturbed gaze at the top of the staircase, Ed let his ponderings float away to be stored in his brain for the time being.
Saluting Roy sarcastically he walked past him and peeked at a passed out Al, nodded an affirmative in his brother's good care, and was about to say a polite thanks to Roy. However, Ed was forced to pause and take in the look on the face staring down at him.
"What's the matter Mustang? Have some problems babysitting?" He asked teasingly. And when no amused reply came, he feared the worst.
Roy stood in front of him and clamped his hands onto Edward's shoulders tightly. The blonde had escaped his questions twice, he was determined that it would not happen a third.
"There's something important I have to talk to you about."
Ed quivered at the hoarse tone and grinned, dismissing the seriousness of the situation, "I get it. You want some sort of payment for this I suppose?" Before he could answer Ed shrugged of the clamped on hands and pulled Mustang down the stairs. "I'll take you out for dinner as payment. It's only… five, so you've got a couple hours to kill, right?"
They stopped at the front door and Ed looked back at Roy, praying and pleading that he would forget whatever it was he wanted to say.
Roy noticed the hopeful look, but made no comment and instead replied, "Dinner sounds nice."
Really, he had known Edward for quite a while now. And he knew that it was not always easy to get an answer out of the blonde. You couldn't directly demand a response. No, you had to coax it out of him, and relying on his impulsive nature, Ed would spout out something he hadn't meant to say, giving you your answer.
That was exactly what he planned to do, however long it took, he would get an answer eventually.
While Ed dragged Roy out of the house, a persistent thought floated back into his mind, the voice ringing harshly.
'Remain emotionally detached from situations.'
As he gazed happily (to his amazement) at his companion for a simple meal, he wondered lazily if what he was doing now was going against the rule.
Although, wasn't he told that if he were to go against the rules bad things would happen?
Roy smiled down at his obvious excitement.
Nah.
He disregarded the blood soaked knife residing in his pocket, coated with the life of another innocent person.
Bad things happened to him daily, so why should he let them also taint one of his few happy times?
Besides, the person who recited the rules to his daily was dead; he had made sure of that.
Then, why did he feel so uneasy?
AN: Thanks to you intriguing little reviewers, and because of you, I have updated faster than I'd intended.
Leave a review if you feel like it. (Or if you want an update .)