This one took me a while to finish, but I'm glad I did. Now I can focus on more angst! Yay!
Edward's entire frame went rigid with panic, his hand clenching tightly to make his grip around the doorknob almost painful. The ridges of it cut into his palm, but his mind didn't even register the pain. All he could think about was the vicious crack of the gunshot resounding throughout the desolate corridor.
Gritting his teeth in some attempt to prepare himself, he smashed his shoulder against the door, causing it to splinter beneath the pressure, and stumbled into the office beyond.
It was bathed in darkness, with only the faintest slivers of moonlight coming from the two windows on the other side of the room. The desk was a mere silhouette, standing out eerily against the varying hues of gray, and lying atop it was a figure Edward recognized immediately.
His jet black hair covered the majority of his facial features, though his mouth, pulled into an agonized frown, was visible beneath it. His right hand hung limply from the desk, holding a pistol in his slackened grip.
Edward swallowed hard, dimly aware that his remaining hand was shaking. "R-Roy?"
Instantly, the taller alchemist jerked from his stupor, and drew his limbs into a sitting position, using both hands to steady himself. He raised his head, and narrowed his eyes in an attempt to decipher the identity of the figure standing in the doorway.
His shoulders sank in confusion, and he merely grunted, "What?"
It was then that Edward's eyes fell upon the empty bottle of Scotch that lay beside the Colonel, and then followed his gaze to the wall. Embedded in the plaster was a single bullet.
Sensing the question that never came, Roy gave a small, drunken giggle. "Thass why you should never drink Thcotch, Ed," he said, blissfully oblivious to how the smaller figure's eyes had darkened. "Makes you miss your 'ead, Ed," his lips curved into a smile. "'Ead, Ed. Get it?"
"Yeah," Edward replied sullenly, taking several steps forward. "Yeah, Roy. I get it," he slammed his fist down on the desk, receiving only a blink for his efforts. "You couldn't kill me. Hell, you can't even kill yourself. Is there anything you can do?"
It became apparent that the Colonel hadn't registered a word of what the smaller alchemist was saying to him, as he looked up, his expression suddenly thoughtful. "You called me Roy," he said. "You've...never called me Roy before."
He suddenly found himself staring blankly at the wall to his left, his neck cracking painfully at the sudden movement. He clawed through the fog in his mind, furrowing his brow for a moment, before he finally came to the realization that Edward had slapped him.
He turned back to the smaller figure, and was momentarily unnerved by the rage flickering through his amber pupils. He didn't bother to question what he had done to warrant such violence, and instead counted his blessings. At least Edward's automail arm seemed to be absent.
Edward took a step backwards, his expression not altering in the slightest, and raised his remaining arm. Clutched in his shaking hand was the pistol Roy was certain that he, himself, was holding, but a quick clench of both of his fists informed him that it was now in Edward's possession.
"So tell me, Roy," he said coldly, deliberating emphasizing his name. "You trap somebody underneath a few tonnes of rock, and then drag your ass back here to drink yourself to death," he tilted his head to one side. "Why? Regret?"
Solemnly, Roy averted his gaze. "Gonna kill me, Ed?"
"Answer the fucking question, Bastard." he spat, resting his index finger upon the trigger.
Despite obvious intoxication, Roy was stunned by the severity in his eyes, and the purest contempt in his tone. He didn't need complete control over his mind to know that Edward was enraged enough to do exactly what he threatened.
"Edward..." he croaked, hands shaking uncontrollably. "Ed...I'm at the end of the line, here. I never meant..."
He was cut off by a cruel bang, and he lurched forward, clutching at his kneecap with both hands as the metal exploded deep within his flesh and shattered the bone. The pain was nothing he hadn't encountered before: he'd suffered much worse on the battlefield, but the hatred in those stunning eyes seemed to pierce further than the bullet.
"It was an accident, was it? You accidentally burnt the alleyway to the ground? You accidentally tried to kill me?"
Roy flinched at the sarcasm that practically dripped from his voice, before inclining his head in what barely qualified as a nod. "I was drunk. I overreacted."
He was already expecting the second explosion, and when his other kneecap was punctured, he simply grit his teeth to prevent any words from escaping his lips. Apparently, "I overreacted." was not a suitable explanation in Edward's eyes. The blood steadily dripping from his wounds was a dead giveaway.
He pushed the ache to the back of his mind, and valiantly (stupidly, his mind muttered) continued. "I made a mistake, Ed," he said. "Another mistake," he gave a grim smile. "I had it in my mouth, that same pistol, after Ishbal, but I couldn't do it. So I started drinking. A little at first, to get some sleep, but then I couldn't stop. I never have been a very good drunk."
He looked up, meeting the blond's gaze, and didn't fail to notice the repulsion in his eyes retreating slightly. Not enough to put down the gun. his mind pointed out, but the pistol didn't even matter to him. He couldn't tear himself away from those mezmerizing eyes.
"If you want to kill me," he said, his voice soft. "I'm not gonna try and stop you. Hell, I'll see it as a blessing, 'cause I obviously can't do it, myself. Maybe I'll finally be able to rest without seeing the faces of all those people I killed."
Aware that there was nothing else he could say, Roy interlocked his bloody fingers upon his lap, and stared down at them, patiently awaiting Edward's response. He was expecting a few cruel words, or perhaps something he had spoken had been construed as a dig at the smaller alchemist's height, and he was about to endure one of his trademark incoherent rants.
There was a dull thunk, and a mumble of, "Earn this, Roy." before the door slammed loudly to signify that he was once again alone. He glanced up very slightly, and his insides gave an uncomfortable lurch as his gaze fell upon the pistol lying several feet away, glimmering faintly in the moonlight.
He sighed heavily, and allowed his head to fall against the desk, in a perfect mimic of the position he had affected earlier. The siren of the pistol called to him from it's place on the carpet, but he simply closed his eyes in an attempt to block it's cries. He couldn't take his life, not now that Edward had spared him.
He groaned quietly to himself. Never before had survival seemed so difficult.