Nearly half a year since the day It All Hit the Fan, I found myself on an exceptionally uncomfortable yet unbelievably sleep-inducing train car en route to one Risembool, of eastern Amestris.
I'd forgotten how maddening travelling cross-country by train could be. Having a personal chauffeur tended to make one spoiled, I concluded; unfortunately, Riza (who would undoubtedly shoot me in the foot and make me sleep on the couch for a week if I ever referred to her as such) remained back in Central to 'hold down the fort while you're gone, sir'. (I.e. to prevent another streakage incident, which happened last time we were both out of town and my idiotic staff decided to take Havoc out to get smashed after his latest rejection. I always knew Fuery couldn't hold his liquor, but Falman, too? I was counting on him to be the responsible one! I bet he regrets that photographic memory now…) She did, however, send Black Hayate along as my bodyguard.
The pup had earned me quite a few dirty looks from my fellow passengers, but the train officials had allowed it, to make up for being out of first-class tickets. Hey, it's what you get for booking so last minute; I acknowledged that. The officials had fallen all over themselves when I arrived at the station, but I wouldn't dream of kicking the people who had had the foresight to get tickets before me out of the prime car, and—for a bit of nostalgia's sake as well—I forced my way onto the regular cars where I had first ridden as a young cadet. (I did, however, reconsider the notion when I was greeted with the sight of those horrid wooden benches people deigned to call 'seats' on this monster.)
At least I was able to pass most of the journey through unconsciousness, for as soon as we cleared the city limits I was out like a light, only waking up hours later to a painfully empty stomach and the announcement that we would be arriving in Risembool in fifteen minutes. (Which then became nearly an hour, with a flock of sheep seemingly containing every ram and ewe in Risembool deciding that now would be a great time to graze on the only track leading in and out of this too-tiny to be on a map town. The only reason they had a station was for the purpose of transporting these smelly muttons to the slaughterhouse, I recalled vengefully.)
When we finally did arrive, I was hot and hungry and a load of pissed off. A whole bunch of documents concerning Lab Five and all the other experiments the upper echelon-slash-homunculi had been performing had just been recovered, and I had wanted someone to help me sort through the whole mess. When I had oh-so-generously invited Ed to review them with me, the brat refused to come up to Central and insisted that 'if you need my help so damn much, you can come up here and get it'. For not the first time I seriously contemplated what it would take to send flames through the telephone network, before Riza gently (read, forcibly) pried the receiver out of my grip and informed Ed that yes, I would be delighted to come to Risembool, as soon as possible of course, so that I would be able to return to my duties in Central.
Traitor.
So now I was here, in the scorching summer heat, trying to remember where exactly the boy lived. It wasn't as if there were many options, but the roads were winding and it was hard to keep your bearings with all these hills; not to mention that the last time I had been here was about five years ago. And Riza had led the way. They seemed to be going through a drought of some kind now—the ground was dry and cracked and I kicked up dust with every step. I shoved my gloves deeper into my pockets—any loose spark could have disastrous consequences here.
Finally I quashed my pride, and inquired to the nearest field worker where the Elric home was. I got a few strange looks, but clear enough directions. Shuffling along the indicated path, Black Hayate panted along resolutely beside me. I didn't pay much attention to where we were headed until I rounded the bend and came face to face with an enormous pile of charred ruins. What the…? How could I have gotten so totally lost once again?
The familiar scent of burnt wood filled my senses and for a moment, just a brief instant of eternity, I was there and this home belonged to a family, one that I'd been ordered to exterminate, and burnt wood became burnt flesh and someone was screaming, screaming with a child's voice, with Ed's voice—
No. No, this was not Ishval, this was no desert. Clearly I had taken a wrong turn at the last hill, stumbled upon a decrepit old barn. This clearly wasn't the Elrics' home.
Unless—my heart skipped a beat. The weather—just a spark could've ignited the whole place in seconds…but I had spoken to him just yesterday! Black Hayate nosed the ruin, looking up at me with a doggy shrug. Quickly I knelt down and felt the remainder of the ashes: far too cool.
Oh. Right. My emotions closed off and logic belatedly kicked in—I wasn't mistaken; this was the Elrics' home, but a tragedy of a different sort had occurred here.
Of course, I should've been asking about the automail shop instead. Luckily it didn't look like I would have to go much farther; true memory was slowly returning and I saw the telltale smoke rising over the next blasted hill. I wondered if Ed's mechanic made as good a pie as Gracia's…(Ed hadn't given anyone beside him and his brother a chance to try some at Al's catastrophe of a party last spring.)
Still, I waited for my pulse to slow before I turned to set off.
Just as I rose, however, a sudden rustle from behind sent my heartrate into overdrive once again. I whirled around, posed to snap, only to find the man toppled by Black Hayate, eagerly licking every inch of him.
Some bodyguard…
As the scrabble of claws on metal echoed, I came to my senses once again (I know, going soft here) and unclenched my fingers, raising them to pinch my brow instead. Memory flooded me, the scene eerily reminiscent of a much shorter boy and a much larger dog. I considered calling off the pup, but shortly dismissed the thought. Call it keeping with tradition. (Or karma. That worked too.)
"Whatcha doing down here, Mustang?" Ed called as he struggled to his feet. Black Hayate whined. "Nothing left in this pile of junk." A touch of bitterness colored his voice.
"Not on purpose, Edward," I growled. A pause. "What happened to this place?"
(Hey. Never said subtlety was my thing.)
"Burned it," Ed muttered. "As a warning—we couldn't come back until we had reached our goals—and as a reminder of my mistake." As he spoke, the hot sun glinted off the sliver of metal visible where Black Hayate had torn his pant leg.
In the choking dry air, his guilt was contagious.
Stifling a sigh, I cleared my throat. When had I become such a shrink? These ruins must've shaken me more than I'd thought. Try as I might, I couldn't stifle memories and feelings that I had long thought buried. (But now, this wasn't about me. This was about Ed, a boy-no, but not a man, never a soldier—a fellow human being, then, who needed to forgive himself already, for God's sake; even though neither of us believed in God.)
Besides, it had been a few months—maybe I could try that being nice thing again.
"Edward…this may not be my place, but...listen. I know you're still guilty. You've felt that way for a long time."
Way to state the obvious, Roy. Where was I going with this?
"However, you've had all the reminders you need and then some. We all make mistakes, and yours and mine, they're bigger than most."
The ghosts all around us wailed in the silence.
"But this equivalent exchange—it's over. You've paid your price." Several times over and then some.
My words hung there, daring him to refute them. Dammit, how could I make him see?
Finally: "I know. I know. It's just…" he released a halting breath.
But it was okay, because I understood. Some sins you couldn't just absolve away.
"And you?" Ed shot back unsteadily, "Have you paid your price?"
Never.
"I'm working on it," I lied.
It will never be enough.
We stood there in amicable enough silence, watching the elongating shadows of the rubble as the sun set behind us. Black Hayate turned three times and fell asleep on my feet.
Then my stomach began to growl, and emotional confessions be damned, I wanted pie.
"Edward?"
His mouth twisted. "Don't call me that," he huffed.
God. What did he want me to do, go all 'Edward Elric!'-Armstrong on him? I swear, I was going to revert back to 'pipsqueak'. Nudging Black Hayate awake, I began to stomp down the god-forsaken hill.
"…Sounds like Hohenheim," he whispered up to the sky, and I half-thought he might've meant for me to hear.
A/N: I realize this one has a bit different tone than the others; it just kind of evolved that way. (It also took on a life of its own to become my longest yet!) If you want to make it meaningful, I think it represents Ed and Mustang's maturing relationship, where they can talk to each other on more of a deeper level.
(Not that this is a RoyEd-there's actually some pretty obvious Royai coming up, but there really isn't any specific relationship category for our two main characters. If I had to describe it I would say it's more paternal, or definitely a developing friendship.)
So did you like it, hate it, was it 'ehhh'? Drop a line and let me know your thoughts. School starts tomorrow, and it would be so incredibly amazing if I could wake up to some reviews from some awesome people!