"Ugh, that sounds just like brother!" Al complained against Winry's laughter, filling the silence of the quaint hotel room.
"He really doesn't think sometimes, does he?" Winry chuckled, wiping tears from her eyes. Perhaps it was inconsiderate, but they had been sharing old childhood stories all night, and somehow they always escalated right back to Ed's questionable choices on their adventures.
It was Ed's own fault he wasn't around, after all. Al had demanded he just stay inside for one night, but as usual, Ed insisted he go out to study; no doubt researching the stone again.
With every time he saw the dark circles under his brother's eyes, Al felt increasingly guilty. Sure, he and Winry loved to tell funny stories about him and joke around, but they were both concerned about his well-being. Ed hid far too much, thinking he was selfish to involve others in his problems.
Al knew better. Ed dug himself into holes more often than not, falling into depressive spirals when he got hit with a dead end. He never spoke about it, no more than few words when they sat alone during the dreadful hours of the night. Ed would apologize again and again for something Al knew he was just as responsible for, and it made his soul ache every time.
Ed had injured himself again in the Fifth Lab, reckless behavior overpowering his logic. If there was a way for Al to burden that pain, at least take some of it away, he would. Ed suffered far too much just to help him, and after years of trying, Al felt more and more hopeless.
Al pushed aside his feelings. Now was no time to dwell on his darker thoughts, not while Winry was here. He hardly got to see her anymore, so every minute they spent together was precious.
"That reminds me of one mission where-" Al's train of thought was halted right away when he felt it. He wasn't quite sure what he was feeling, but out of nowhere, he had felt a tug.
It horrified him.
"Al, what's wrong?" Winry had picked up on his silence, but Al was far too preoccupied with the sensation running through his entire being.
For the first time in years, Al could feel.
This wasn't the sensation he had imagined, though. It was as far from a pleasant feeling as he could fathom. This tug was like a punch to the stomach, perhaps more akin to a knife. It was as if a part of him, his soul, had been snapped away from whatever was holding it in place, leaving him empty and lost.
He was still in the armor, of course, but all of a sudden it felt more hollow than it ever had.
"Al, come on. What is it?"
He couldn't find the strength to answer her. Something was terribly wrong; Al could sense it from every direction.
A piece of him, something crucial, had been forcefully ripped away, and all of Al's thoughts were suddenly drawn to Ed.
"I-I have to go find brother," he stumbled out, standing so quickly the couch creaked and shifted to the side.
Winry's eyebrows creased together in worry as she let him pass, her hands wringing together as she watched him go. "Be careful, Al!" he heard her say from behind him.
Al ran faster than he ever had, praying that his brother was okay.
The body still had some warmth to it, Roy noticed. Almost like it was still alive.
He couldn't think, he couldn't feel. He could only see what was ahead of him, and god, there was so much blood.
Too much blood.
He was too late. He was too late and this entire thing was his fault.
Edward Elric had been pronounced dead two minutes before he arrived.
He remembered it happening in slow motion, running toward the phone booth only to be met with the red and blue lights of an ambulance and the yellow crime tape.
Riza hadn't said a word since he arrived, choosing instead to bite her lip and silently blink away her tears. She was far from stoic, though; her eyes held an anger that he had only seen once before. They burned with a cruel mixture of fury and grief, glazed over by a sadness often worn by parents who had lost a child.
Roy still hadn't gotten over the shock. His chest painfully constricted as he stared down at his youngest subordinate, lifeless and unmoving. He had seen his share of corpses, yet this one left such vile horror within him that he was surprised he hadn't vomited on the spot.
He vaguely recalled screaming at the paramedics to revive him, to do something other than stand around like they were discussing the weather. Did they not understand what had happened? Did they not know that one of the strongest, bravest people in all of Amestris was now lying dead on the sidewalk?
It wasn't right, none of it was. The fact that his eyes were still open, perhaps, or the bloody handprint streaked down the glass window. The phone swung back and forth like a metronome, again and again in a steady rhythm. Roy watched it as it moved from side to side, muffled voices ringing in his ears.
Was it wrong that he wanted to approach him, shake him, something just to see if he would respond? Fullmetal would call him a bastard and insist that he was fine; he'd try to leave the hospital early and drive the staff crazy, or maybe even request time off in Resembool. He had to, because that's what happened every time.
Roy tore his eyes away from the body when he couldn't stand to look any longer. In the distance he could see the paramedics lifting Maes onto a stretcher, and god, not him too. Not Maes too…
They had put an oxygen mask on him, so surely he was okay, he had to be.
He turned his head when he heard a heart-wrenching scream, haunting enough to dwell in his nightmares for weeks after. Alphonse had arrived, he didn't know how, or when, but suddenly he was there and he was crying out for his dead brother.
Roy had hoped for years that he would never hear a sound so terrible coming from someone so young, so innocent. He watched as Riza held him back, gripping his wrists with enough strength to send an ordinary man to the ground.
Roy tried to keep his legs from buckling, listening to Al's yells from behind him as he stared into Ed's hollow eyes. Perhaps if he stared long enough, the light would return to them with the same spark it had four years ago.
"He's gone, Alphonse," Riza muttered, voice not strong enough to produce more sound.
Al was silent, trembling under Riza's grip.
"No… no he's not… I can save him! I can-"
"Al, please. Don't." Her voice must've been enough for him to stop, as a soft cry was all Roy heard from him. He could've sworn he had heard his own heart shatter in the process, too.
He hadn't known Al had been able to cry until now, in that body, and the revelation left him reeling.
Whoever had caused this, whoever was responsible for ripping the life away from a boy who hardly had one to hang onto; they would pay. Roy would kill the monster who did this with his bare hands if he had to; he would hunt them down and he swore he'd make them feel every bit of agony he felt standing on that sidewalk.
Roy would kill, and he would get the revenge Edward deserved.
When Maes was finally conscious enough to stay awake for more than a few seconds, he couldn't remember what he had been doing. In fact, he was dully surprised when he realized he was in a hospital.
His stomach hurt, a sharp pang that indicated he was injured. Badly injured, at that.
He covered his eyes with his arm and settled into the cool feeling of skin against skin, giving his brain a moment to process how he had gotten here at all. Hadn't he been at the library? Maes remembered being upset about missing Elicia's bedtime routine again, and almost let himself smile at the image of her cute little face- no. He had to focus.
The library. He was upset about something… something about the military. Right. The transmutation circle. Ed had been there too, he remembered, and… god. Ed.
What had happened to Ed? Hadn't he been the one responsible for him? The homunculus woman had been there, which meant Ed had been in trouble too.
The realization hit him with more force than the blow that landed him in the hospital. He hadn't made it in time.
Right as the worry and panic began to gnaw away at him, Roy entered the room looking worse than he had in years.
"Oh. You're awake."
Maes looked him over once, then twice. His hair was disheveled, eyes hidden under a shadow and rimmed with puffy blackness. He hadn't looked this terrible since the Ishvalan War, and that was saying something. Beyond the guilty and haunted look he often wore back then, now he looked… defeated.
"What's going on, Roy? Where's Ed?" he asked cautiously, regretting it almost immediately. The look Roy gave the tiled floor was enough of a sign.
Maes wanted to deny it. He wanted to come up with excuses and reasons and explanations of why this couldn't be real.
But he just couldn't. Roy's eyes said it enough.
"Roy…"
"He's dead, Maes. Since last night." Roy's voice was devoid of any emotion, monotonous to the point that Maes wondered if he was still human.
He froze and stared at the cracked plaster on the wall. He stared so he wouldn't have to look at Roy, so he wouldn't have to feel the crippling weight of those words consume him.
Maes wondered if this was how it would feel if Elicia died. The emptiness overpowered the guilt, yet the two both managed to accumulate into the most painful sensation he'd felt in years. He had failed, and because of that, an innocent boy was dead. Killed, because of him. It was completely his fault and he knew it, nothing would be able to convince him otherwise.
Roy seemed to think the same about himself. Maes let the silence speak for them, their grief like a heavy fog wafting throughout the room.
They stayed like that for several minutes, Maes wiping the sudden tears that began to fall. How had he let this happen? God… what did Ed ever do to deserve this?
He couldn't stand the silence anymore and said the first thing that came to his mind. "How's Al?"
Roy sighed and rubbed his face with his hands. "I don't know. He hasn't said a word since the crime scene. I haven't even seen him."
Maes cursed under his breath. This would hurt Al more than anyone else, and he couldn't even fathom how the boy would manage without the one thing that gave him life. His only family left, his only hope towards having a body again, it was gone in a matter of minutes.
"What did I do to them, Maes? How could I… how could I have been heartless enough to put them in the military? What the fuck is wrong with me?!" Roy's words startled Maes out of his thoughts, and he looked over to see that he was clutching his hair with his hands.
"They would've done it regardless Roy, you know that-"
"That doesn't matter!" Roy shouted back. "I was the one who gave them an outlet, I was the one who didn't watch over them enough! Just because you were with him that doesn't mean you're the one responsible, Maes. They're under my care, and I was too damn selfish to take care of those boys when they needed it! I left them alone to fend for themselves, and look what happened! Fullmetal is dead because of me!"
Maes couldn't think of a response. He couldn't, because he knew that no matter what he said, Roy would be adamant about his role in the Elric brothers' lives. In the same way Maes wouldn't let go of his guilt, of his failed responsibility, Roy would blame himself until the day he died, just like with Ishval.
They had all contributed to Ed's death; it was the bitter truth.
"I think it's best if I go." Roy lifted himself out of the bedside chair and was out the door before Maes could even consider stopping him.
The empty space in his room did nothing to ease his discomfort. He was alone with his thoughts; all the ways he could have saved Ed racing through his head.
Maes closed his eyes and prayed he could go back to sleep.
It was after the seventh shot of whiskey that Roy forgot why was even drinking it in the first place. He had ended up on the floor of his office… somehow… and he let himself giggle at the fact that his coat had flipped itself upside down.
God… he must've looked terrible. He laughed again and rested his head against the wall with a thump, causing more pain than he had expected.
He wiped at the tear streaks on his face that had gotten there somehow, and poured himself another shot.
That is, until he became aware of the knocking at his door. He wasn't quite sure how long the knocking had been going on for, but it was becoming annoying enough that he felt the need to shut it up one way or another.
Roy stood with a grunt, trying to find meaning in the swirling mess in front of him. He took a tentative step forward and swayed to the side, catching himself on the nearest wall. Using his hand to follow along, he stumbled forward until he reached the source of the sound.
Roy opened the door with one hand and rubbed at his eyes with another, not prepared in the slightest for the person who stood on the other side.
"Al… Alphonse?" he slurred, unable to hide the fact that he was extremely intoxicated at the moment.
"Oh… I think I came at a bad time, I'll just come back later…" Al's voice was quieter than Roy could remember it being, and he wondered why he sounded so dismal. Maybe he wanted a drink too?
"Nah, you can stay for a bit!" Roy staggered backwards to make room for Al to get through. Had he always been that big?
Al looked down and fumbled with something in his hands. "No, I really don't think I should, Colonel. Sorry for bothering you." Al began to turn away, hesitating as he looked back at the object in his hands. "I'll just give this to you now. It's from brother."
Brother? Right… Al had a brother…
"I found it when I was going through our room, he'd made a will in advance and everything… I never would have guessed," Al's voice got quieter and Roy strained to hear it, still confused about what he was going on about.
"I think he wrote letters for us in case anything happened to him, b-but I don't think I can read it any time soon," Al muttered, holding the letter out to Roy.
He reached for the envelope and flipped it over, straining his eyes to read the text on the front.
Colonel Bastard
God… he needed another drink.
Al shuffled quietly and Roy remembered he was still standing outside. "Take care of yourself, Colonel. I'll see you at the funeral."
And with that, Roy was alone. Again.
He tossed the letter on his desk for later, missing horribly but not caring enough to go back and pick it up. There was no way he'd be able to read it now, let alone comprehend it.
Roy collapsed back onto the ground, sliding the carpet out from beneath him. The half empty whiskey bottle rolled somewhere near his foot, and he reached towards it like it was a lifeline. He could not think about this again. He had to forget, at least for now, he had to.
The pain of his mistakes were slowly catching up with him; even while drunk he couldn't seem to escape them.
Roy would deal with it come morning, along with a wicked hangover. For now, he'd lay on the office floor, drowning in his sorrows and dreading the funeral to come. He poured himself another shot and tilted his head back, swallowing with a shudder as he waited for the alcohol to dim his senses even more.
A/N: Let me know if any of you have questions! When it comes to the plot, just assume the homunculi think Ed will be too much of a hassle in the long run and they can easily make another sacrifice. Nobody is getting framed because they're already distracted and torn apart enough as it is.
Thank you to everyone who reviewed and favorited/followed! :D