OH MY FLYING FLIP DUDES! This chapter is a little late because YOU WOULD NOT BELIEVE HOW MUCH TROUBLE DOCS MANAGER HAS BEEN GIVING ME! IF IT HAD A FACE I WOULD PUNCH IT!
Anyway, I'll tell you how it is messing with me at the end. I'll imagine you want to read the thing. (Prepare for the longest footnote thingy of your life.)
For now~!
Reference winner with Pewdiepie (sorry, I got the line wrong anyway. I forgot what it was, so I hoped you'd be able to guess from the name. You did.):
NorthernMage! YAYGOLDSTAR!
This time the reference is (an easy one, from a good friend of mine):
"Just keep swimming..."
Onwards and upwards, my friends!
Sometimes, when people say they are okay, all they want is for someone to hold them close and say, "I know you're not."
Of Letters and Lands in the Mind
THE PREVIOUS MORNING, A HOTEL IN RANRI.
Flame and Fullmetal,
Word has been received that your safety has been breached. You are no longer in a secure environment.
You are in danger. Someone is out to kill you.
Come down to the hotel which shares the name of the metal brothers' mother tomorrow as soon as possible. You are being extracted.
The situation will be explained upon your arrival.
Hawk's eye and Little Brother.
Hawkeye read the note over one more time before she slipped it inside the sleeve material of her recently purchased haori, feeling it wedge at the top of the shoulder. It had been Alphonse's idea to hide it there.
She picked up the needle and thread once more and began to sew the slit shut again, working deftly and efficiently. After she'd finished that, she hung the jacket over the back of the chair.
She'd managed to gather some information from the shops and castle staff around the city. Word on the street was that all of the representatives would be heading out to a bar that night, and she had formulated a plan to fit the situation.
She knew that Edward wouldn't be able to come with Roy and so he'd likely be left back at the castle. That would mean she'd have to arrange a meeting with the both of them the next day. In order to do that, she'd have to leave some kind of message…and after seeing the haori in a shop, she'd devised the perfect way to do so.
The Colonel was known in many pubs of Amestris for his heavy drinking habits, but she got the feeling that he would be avoiding alcohol this time - he wasn't stupid.
At some point, he would inevitably step outside to escape the temptation, providing Hawkeye with the perfect opportunity to hand over the jacket and vanish.
Even with the smallest of changes, the plan could be ruined immediately. But Hawkeye had faith in her ability to improvise.
"I still don't see why we can't just tell them what's happening in the note," said Alphonse from the other side of the hotel room they had rented. It was small, had a tiny bathroom and only one bedroom, but it would do for what the pair needed.
They had arrived that morning, having spent a day travelling to reach Kambei. This left them tomorrow and the next day to evacuate Roy and Edward before Aerugo attacked.
Hawkeye wound up the thread again and tucked away the needle. She sent a glance in Alphonse's direction. The boy had been forced to stay behind in the apartment room today instead of going out with the Lieutenant due to his conspicuous appearance, and he looked to be getting quite edgy.
"There are two reasons," the woman began. "The first being that this note could get compromised. If it's discovered that Amestris knew about the attack and didn't warn the others, just tried to save our own people, we'd be in trouble. If Aerugo found out we knew, Ed and the Colonel would be dead in an instant. The second reason is this…"
Hawkeye looked Alphonse straight in his glowing red eyes, unflinching. "Your brother would never agree to abandon this place without a fight. He would at least try to save the other representatives, but obviously that would result in an earlier attack from Aerugo that would get all our countries thrown into war, whereas this could be avoided if we just get those two out."
Alphonse shook his helmeted head. "I'm still not even sure I understand it all."
Hawkeye was sympathetic. Foreign affairs were a complicated matter, and she didn't expect for someone as young as Alphonse to ever understand, no matter how she explained it.
"Put it this way," she started to explain. "Our mission is to withdraw Colonel Mustang and your brother before Aerugo attacks Kambei. This way, we keep them safe and Amestris won't get involved in war, should it start. We won't get involved because we have no reason to. If the Emperor falls to Aerugo, Kambei is going to retaliate and before you know it, the two are at war. The other allies, should their leaders be killed, will likely join forces to combat Aerugo."
She stood up and made her way over to her suitcase, retrieving a small handgun and sitting down to inspect it carefully. "We're trying to avoid war. There's always the chance that we'll have to fight on the side of our allies anyway, but this is all hypothetical. Kambei has an entire army here already. Ideally, there will be a scuffle here, Aerugo will be defeated, they'll be thrown out of our treaty and things will continue, all the while we are safe back in Amestris."
"I see." Alphonse watched her keep up the maintenance of her weapon.
"And if we were to tell those two what's going on…" She shrugged, taking the gun to pieces. "The Colonel could probably be convinced that retreat is the best course of action for our good and Amestris' good, but your brother is another story. He's too good a person sometimes, and you know even better than I do that he'll never go peacefully. He'll at least try to take the representatives somewhere safe, and then join the combat himself. But this could potentially put all our lives in danger and involve Amestris in a needless dispute. It would also mean that we would all get in a lot of trouble when we get back home."
She snapped the gun back together. "If we managed to escape alive."
Alphonse twitched his shoulder slightly. "Mm…"
"And you understand as well, don't you?" the woman asked, looking towards the younger Elric brother. "We have to leave this so it all plays out. We cannot get involved."
Alphonse nodded. "Y-yes! I understand it all. But still, I can't help feeling sort of bad about it…"
Hawkeye stood up, moving across the room to the boy in that professional demeanour of hers. She eyed him with a cold, indifferent expression.
Alphonse gulped.
The Lieutenant then smiled softly, sadly, touching a hand to his metal shoulder. "I know. I'd be worried if you didn't. But unfortunately, that's how things work sometimes."
"U-um, right," Alphonse stammered, apparently taken aback by the sudden affection shown by a woman who was normally so strict and apathetic.
"Surprised?" she said as she moved her hand off the armour-bound alchemist's shoulder. "Didn't think I was capable of understanding?"
"No. Not at all." Alphonse shook his head. "I just didn't think you trusted me enough to show me that you do."
Hawkeye blinked, a little bit startled, and Alphonse looked at her with an air of complete sincerity.
After all this time, she thought to herself. Trust?
CURRENT TIME, KIN PALACE.
After Roy and Edward had swept the ashes into a pile and thrown them into a dustbin, the pair had unanimously decided it was time for bed.
They also unanimously decided to sleep in the actual beds (loosely speaking) instead of couches.
"Awesome…" Edward mumbled. "I'm pretty tired."
Roy just yawned.
"I guess that was an agreement," the boy said, smirking. "Considering the fact that you've been yawning your head off all evening."
Roy nodded, adding an unintelligible mumble that Edward didn't even bother attempting to decipher.
The bedroom had cleared quite a lot since the last time they'd slept there. That hadn't been since… Edward cut his thought short, not wanting to remind himself of what Roy could have done.
Most of the books had been returned to the library, so only a solitary pile still remained standing beside Edward's suitcase next to the wall at the top of his bed.
The Fullmetal Alchemist felt a flash of irritation as he noticed that he had never managed to find the book Hawkeye had mentioned before he and Roy had left for Kambei. He was beginning to think it was just a clever ploy by the cunning woman to convince him to go.
Roy followed him in slowly, trudging over to place Hawkeye's haori next to his own case in the corner of the room a few feet from his bed. He yawned again as he did so.
He then proceeded to trip over his own feet and face-plant onto the bed with a muffled thud.
"Are you okay, Roy?" Edward asked, quickly trotting over and prodding him in the shoulder. He sighed as the man rolled onto his side and murmured slightly - fast asleep.
The teen then curled into his own bed, pulling the hair-tie off his wrist and tossing it at his suitcase. He turned onto his side and closed his eyes, but opened them again seconds later and blew out a sigh.
He rolled over onto his other side and tried to get to sleep. His eyes opened again and he ground his teeth grumpily, starting to get irritated at himself.
He was freaking tired.
He wanted to sleep.
He tossed and turned for about half an hour before he sat up and started rubbing his eyes in sleepy frustration. When he'd finished with that, he dropped his hands back in his lap in defeated.
He couldn't sleep.
But he was so freaking tired.
Lucky Roy, he thought moodily as he thumped down on his back and squeezed his eyelids closed, gritting his teeth. A couple of minutes later, he rolled onto his stomach and buried his face in the pillow.
He quickly discovered he couldn't breathe in this position and shifted to his side.
He supposed he must have fallen asleep at some point, because he eventually woke up and couldn't get to sleep again. He sighed.
This was going to be a long night.
Edward stood. He'd given up.
He'd been trying to sleep for hours now, but it was hopeless. According to the watch in his suitcase that now rested in his hand, he'd never managed to sleep for more that half an hour before he woke up again, and whatever shut-eye he'd snatched had been haunted by half-remembered snippets of human transmutation.
He slipped the door open quietly, casting a glance at Roy. The man was asleep, but Edward could tell he was dreaming from the way he twitched and murmured. Whether it was good or bad, he couldn't tell, but he'd likely place his bets on the latter.
He tiptoed into the hallway and wandered down to the living room. He considered ordering some water or a snack, but he seriously doubted the staff would still be awake at - he glanced at his watch - two-thirty in the morning, and he didn't want to bother them.
He recalled his brother saying at some point that warm milk was good when you were having trouble getting to sleep, but then he remembered he didn't have milk either.
Then he remembered he hated milk.
"Damn, I really need some sleep," he mumbled. "Next thing you know, I'll be admitting that I'm shor—"
He paused, blinked, slapped himself in the face and closed his eyes grumpily. "I am not short. Never call me short, you hear me? And even if I was, that wouldn't make me any less deadly. Not that I am, because I am definitely not. Short, I mean. Because I could make you dead. Call me short and so help me, I will rip off your freaking head with my bare hands and shove it up your goddamned—Hyaa-a-aawn."
He blinked again and frowned, slightly miffed about having his rant cut short.
He trudged over to the window and looked out. The streets were dark now, no lamps or rooms needing to be lit at this ungodly hour. The sky was dotted with stars, but they were few and far between compared to the beauty of the night sky in Resembool.
Edward sighed. Resembool. How long's it been?
He flicked open his watch, having broken the seal to try and find out the time a few hours ago. Two words and a date stared back at him alongside the clock face, and he saw a flash of gold as the polished interior caught a brief reflection of his eye.
He looked at the thing emptily. Is it true? he thought to himself. Did I really just run away from it all? Is it true that I don't go back because I'm scared of the old place? It couldn't be…
He glanced out the window again with a conflicted expression. …Could it?
Oh, how he wished it could just be simple. He wished he just knew these things, and that life would stop being so damned confusing and tell him what the hell he was required to do.
He wished he knew what needed to be done, what the world wanted with him. Why did it keep torturing him? Why wouldn't anyone just tell him?
He wished he knew what he needed to do to get that ideal future he wanted for himself and his brother. He wanted to know if it actually even existed. Sometimes he just wanted to have a normal life, and do normal things like a normal person.
But he couldn't live like a normal person.
He was different.
He could never be like normal people.
He couldn't even see a future for himself. All he saw was struggling on and on, the same way he had for the past four years. It wasn't fair. Why him? Of all the people, why was it always him that had to deal with this stuff?
It just wasn't fair…
He brought his hands up in front of his eyes and stared at them listlessly before he thumped his head down into them, crushing his knuckles - both metal and flesh - into the window pane. It shuddered with the impact, but remained intact.
He fought to contain the rising tide of frustration and pain surging in his chest, making soft, hurt noises as he did.
Why did he have to deal with all this? It's not fair.
Why was he different? It's not fair.
Why was it always him? It's not fair.
It's just not fair, dammit…!
He tangled his fingers in his black fringe, tugging at his hair and pressing his forehead into the glass. "Why…? Why, damn you…?"
He growled in frustration and let go of his hair, flicking his arms out to his sides and striding a few steps away from the window. A sweat had broken out on his forehead. "It just… It doesn't…"
He balled his hands into fists and rolled his wrists before folding his arms and gritting his teeth against another flood of anger and grief. "Why?!"
He flung himself at the wall next to the window and thumped his left arm against it. This sent a jolt of pain from his wrist to his elbow, but he couldn't care less.
"It's not fair, dammit! It's not fair!" he choked out. He felt his hair brush against the surface of the wall. Angrily, he smacked his head against it.
Put it any way you want; he had no luck, karma was out to get him, it was 'equivalent exchange'… It didn't change the fact that it wasn't fair. There was no damn exchange! Life never ran that way! It just took and took and took until you had nothing left to give and you never got anything in return!
He banged his fist on the wall a few more times, each weaker than the last until eventually his arm slipped back to his side.
"Why me? Why do I have to suffer all this?" he asked, finally allowing for a moment to pity himself. "It isn't fair how it is. You keep taking from me. I did something wrong. I know. Haven't I paid enough for it yet…?!" His voice cracked.
It wasn't fair that he should have to deal with these problems. Why did he have to be the one that was different? Why did he have to be the one with no future? And why was Alphonse the one stuck with him?
And that did it. He turned his back to the wall, groaning, and leant against it. He slid down until he was sitting on the floor, his head buried in his knees. How had he gotten to the point where he was allowed to feel so sorry for himself when Alphonse was the one who really had it tough?
He was terrible. He couldn't do a thing right. It all made sense why he had to suffer like this. Because he was the crap big brother who'd managed to get his little sibling's body stolen. He deserved it. The person who life wasn't fair on was Alphonse, the one who'd lost so much for something that had been Edward's idea in the first place. It wasn't fair to him.
And yet the elder brother couldn't stop these overwhelming feelings.
"It's not fair…" he whispered, hearing tears in his voice as it cracked and wavered. "It's not fair. It's not fair. It's not fair."
He sat there on the floor hugging his knees and leaving his head buried in them. A droplet hit the ground, and Edward didn't even care if it was a tear or just sweat.
He was so different. And different meant alone.
INSERT LINE BREAK!
He is back in the trap of fire.
The land of darkness inside his mind, where fire rules all and he is a mere vessel for it's power. This is a land where he has no voice, he is just a necessary tool that the flames need to survive. In this land, he is lost; he no longer controls the fire because the fire controls him.
This land is not a land. This land is a part of him, the small, shadowy box in the back of his head, the rage he must never access and the power he must never touch.
When he ends up here, he knows it is because the chains have weakened, he knows it is because he was close to losing himself, he knows it is because that box nearly opened and he'd nearly succumbed to the terrible power of Flame Alchemy.
He hates it here, he hates with a kind of taunted fear.
With fear, because he knows it is a part of him, a part of him that it feels so good to succumb to. To let his rage consume him and to just burn what makes him angry. He has let himself fall prey to it before, and he hopes never to experience that much sheer joy at destruction ever again.
And yet it feels so satisfying, and so fun. Just to let himself fall back and hand his body over to the fire, to feel his full power coursing and boiling growing and seeping into every inch of him. He feels so good, so alive.
And yet it feels so bad. When he finally comes to his senses and sees what he has done, what his hands have caused, the destruction he'd had so much fun causing, he would be horrified. How did he ever find such things fulfilling?
And when his dreams remind him that this box of darkness exists within him, he wakes up petrified and clinging to his sanity like it might slip away at a moment's notice and leave him a killing machine possessed by fire.
Like so many before him.
It is terrifying, thinking that he might lose himself. It is a fate worse than death. To be alive, but dead on the inside. A man with a broken mind.
The concept scares him tremendously. He wants to live, he wants to live, he wants to be alive, and he wants himself there to do it. Losing his mind is a fear that haunts him at night, and by day he tries to convince himself it is impossible.
He can't live like a normal person.
He is powerful.
He could never be like normal people.
Power was lonely, so lonely, and what was fire but raw, uncontainable power?
He was so powerful, and powerful meant alone.
He is scared he might be taken over by fire and lose his mind, and that everything he holds dear will be destroyed, and he'll be the one to do it.
And the fire knows this. It burns within his chest, hot and strong, and he wishes to tear it out. But he cannot, for his hands are restricted by bonds of smoke. He wishes to cry out, but he is choking on ash.
So all the heat scorches him and presses at his body. It wants to take over him and use his body to burn everything. It wants him locked away in the box, forced to watch the carnage and destruction and killing, but powerless to stop it.
And water, water, it feels so good on his skin, like drops of mercy in the relentless pain and heat. He wishes for more and more, because he is weak and he wants to escape the pain. He can't take it anymore and he wants it to stop hurting.
So he cries, tears of terror-stricken despair, and it soothes the burning on his cheeks. The pain lessens, and he lets out a choking sob.
His heart cries too, out of fear and loneliness and grief and guilt, and it dampens the fire in his chest. The burning fades.
He continues to cry, and the fire inside starts to hiss and crackle and dies out, leaving him empty. The fire around him weakens drastically and he falls to the ground, no longer supported by those deadly tendrils.
He falls and falls and…
THUMP!
Roy's heart thudded in his chest and he snapped awake with a gasp. He couldn't breathe! His lungs were full of ash, he was choking, he was going to die, he was going to die, he was going to…! He shook his head. No. It was just a dream.
Chest heaving, he pulled himself up and inspected his body.
Inspected his mind.
Everything seemed normal. Everything was working the way it was meant to. He could move, he could breathe, he could see. He could hear, smell, touch… Most importantly, he could think. Granted, he couldn't think clearly, but it was a start.
He sighed in relief. He wasn't mad. He hadn't lost his mind. He hadn't gone insane and burned everything.
But he was scared out of his wits.
Shaking numbly, he turned around and looked about the room. It was dark. …Very dark.
It was dark and he was scared.
He could see the shape of his suitcase beside the wall, the shape of Edward's suitcase, the shape of Edward's bed…but not Edward.
It was dark and he was scared and alone.
He shivered in silence, his terror known only to himself and no-one else. It was very dark, but he could see his hands. He rubbed his face with them. They were shaking. Hard. And it was cold in here.
It was dark and cold and he was scared and alone.
It was then that Edward walked in. He slid open the door and stepped inside, looking exhausted and messy and sleepy and ragged. He spied Roy in the darkness.
"Oh. You're awake," he said dully. "It's three in the morning, you should probab—"
He broke off when he saw how hard the man was shaking. He hurried over, now wide awake. "Hey, what's wrong?!"
Roy focused his gaze on his lap, folded his trembling arms and whispered, "Cold here. Really." His voice shook. It was a lie; the room was only slightly under an average temperature, definitely not enough to make someone shiver like this.
"Yeah. It is," Edward agreed nonetheless, glancing around to see if he could spot anything useful. He knew Roy was trying to be strong. He didn't want to ruin that.
The man stiffened as Edward disappeared briefly, and his teeth started chattering. But he was back seconds later, and he threw something over his superior's shoulders.
"There," he said firmly. "That oughtta do it."
Roy went rigid and tightened his grip on the fabric of what he had originally assumed was a blanket. A comforting scent of fruit-scented perfume and a slight undertone of gunpowder hit him and he relaxed.
Hawkeye's haori.
"Better now?" Edward asked, cocking his head.
Roy nodded once. He knew that Edward was well aware that he wasn't shivering from the cold. He also knew that Edward was well aware of the effect Hawkeye's scent would have on him. "Yeah. That's much better."
The two were silent, and Edward settled himself on the end of Roy's mattress.
"What were you doing up?" Roy asked eventually, having recovered enough to string together actual words now.
"I couldn't sleep," the boy confessed. "I got up and went to stretch my legs."
"Couldn't sleep, huh…" Roy echoed. He sighed. "I've had that too. The cruelness of it all. We can't ever sleep, and when we do, we're tortured by nightmares."
"It's really…" Edward's breath hitched. "…not fair, is it?"
"No," Roy concurred, letting a frown slip onto his features. "It's not. Ed, is something wrong?"
The boy shook his head. He looked away. "I'm fine. You should be more worried about yourself."
Roy cocked his head. His expression changed back to that of 'indifferent commanding officer'; distant and calculating. He started to speak, but when he did, it was solid and uncaring. "When a person lies…they're stiff, trying to take up as little space as possible. They might touch their face or neck, but not the chest. They'll likely avoid eye contact and they get defensive. They don't want to look at whoever they lie to. Some even subconsciously place an object between themselves and the accuser, if it comes to an inquisition. These are the kinds of things I have to know for work, Ed, and I know them quite well."
Roy continued as his subordinate looked at him in puzzlement and wondered where he was going with this.
"Do you know that the average man tells six lies a day to people they know? Each woman tells three. Thirty-one percent of people admit they lie in their resumes and sixty percent of people lie two to three times in a ten minute conversation. They lie the most over the phone. Thirteen percent of people say they lie to their doctors. And ninety-eight percent of teens lie to their parents."
Edward frowned. "Why are you telling me this?"
"Because I can," Roy said simply. "And do you know, out of all the lies people tell, which is the most common falsehood?"
The boy shook his head slowly, somehow getting the sense that he was being scolded.
"'I'm fine. There's nothing wrong'." The Colonel shifted to cross his legs. "What you think is a harmless little half-truth means more to me than what you think. When you say you're fine and I can tell you are lying, then I know there's something wrong. So what is it?"
Edward looked at him as if he wanted to say something. He shook his head roughly then looked back at him. "I swear, I-I just—"
"Tell me," Roy demanded softly. "I want to help you, but I can't if I don't know what's wrong!"
The boy let out a quiet whimper. "It's nothing…"
"Edward…" Roy reached forward and brushed his hand against the younger alchemist's shoulder.
"D-don't touch me…!" he exclaimed as he moved to the end of the bed and turned his head away. His voice cracked. "Please…"
"I won't," said Roy. "And I'm not going to give you all that 'I just wanna help you' crap either. Because I might not even be able to. But I can't know that unless you tell me what's bugging you. So when you're ready, I'll be here."
Edward didn't respond, so the room was silent for a brief while.
"There isn't much equivalent exchange in our relationship, is there?" Roy murmured to him. "I let you in. I let you care for me. I let you know what you wanted to at the first question you asked. But you won't open up to me. I don't think that's fair."
"That's just it!" Edward burst out. "It's not fair! It's never fair! The whole damn world just isn't fair!"
He cut himself off before he said something stupid.
"Edward," Roy said again, softly. "I let you in so you could help me. Please, allow me to return the favour. And that can be one equivalent exchange that benefits the both of us."
Edward remained at the end of the bed, breathing heavily and staring angrily at nothing. It didn't seem like he'd ever give in.
But Roy was prepared to wait.
And as it turned out, he didn't have to wait long.
"I just think…" Edward told him quietly. "…that it's really unfair how me and Al get treated. And I think…I just need to be able to…get upset about that sometimes."
Roy listened in silence. He blinked tiredly, but forced himself to stay awake. He might be exhausted - they both were, it was three in the morning for goodness' sake - but he had to remain conscious, for Edward.
"If you have to know," Edward continued. "It's just a little hard for me to accept all this crap sometimes. When I want to cry, when I want to pity myself and I want to just be depressed about this, I keep remembering how Alphonse is holding out. He's…so strong…and why should I be able to cry when he can't? That's not right. And then sometimes, it's hard to keep it up…and keep hiding my emotions away."
He stared at the floor uncaringly, eyes empty. "Because no matter how hard I try, they're still there. All my feelings are still intact. And I still feel pain about it all. And occasionally…I can't… I can't hold it in anymore. And then I feel like a jerk. Because… Alphonse. Just…Alphonse"
Roy closed his heavy eyelids, but opened them again a few seconds later. "Thank you. Thank you very much. I can help you now."
Edward sneered slightly, but it lacked any real malice. "I don't want help."
"You've let me help you before," Roy pointed out. "You can do it again. There's only us here, and I won't think any less of you. Because you're strong too. I know you are. When I first saw you, you were so young, so, so, young. But you'd already seen something so terrible, you and your brother both. Any other child would have been distraught, sobbing, broken. But you were still so stubborn. I could see it in your eyes. I was harsh with you both when I chewed you out, but you didn't break down. You fought so hard to hold out. And you still do. Every day, you prove yourself again and again and again. But you don't have to be strong forever. You yourself said it, remember?"
"That's no excuse," the boy mumbled. "I've been doing it far too often lately."
"Stress does that to a person," Roy said gently. "And to have done as well as you have through it all is something to be proud of. But you can feel this way too, you know. It's human nature. It's healthy for you to get upset sometimes. You can't stay bottled up forever. You're just human. It's what we do."
"Maybe I should become inhuman."
Roy's eyes widened. Then they narrowed. "Are you an idiot? Ed, don't. Never. That is not what you need to be. That is never what you need to be. Not an emotionless monster. Human. I have seen inhuman before." I have been inhuman before. "To become something heartless and without feelings; do you think that's best for your brother?"
Edward's pokerfaced expression finally broke. He looked crushed, like he was trying to fight back tears. In a weak voice, he said, "I don't know. I don't know what's best for him anymore."
"You being yourself," the Colonel told him firmly. "You are what gives him that unbreakable strength you described in him. And the opposite also applies. You support each other. What's best for Alphonse is what you've been doing all along; being his big brother. Being there for him. Yes, you need to show him you are strong. But strength cannot be without weakness. And that is human. He is human. You are human. You have a right to feel this way."
Edward cast Roy a look, one that was impossible to read. It lasted a few seconds, and Roy held it the whole time. It was somewhat judgemental, but also curious.
And a little nervous.
"Don't," the boy began in a quiet tone, "think I'm going to do this on a regular basis."
And then Edward was on the man, grasping him in a tight hug.
Roy blinked. This had not happened before. Normally it was Edward who would accept an embrace from him, not the other way around. Something had changed, obviously.
"Thank you," mumbled Edward into Roy's chest. "Thank you so much. I don't know…why hearing you say that kind of thing makes me feel so much better…but it does."
Roy looked at him in surprise. "Helping you here is the least I can do… You've done a lot for me too, you know."
Edward turned his head a little so that he could be heard clearer. "I haven't hugged anyone myself since… A long time. I forgot…how warm it is."
Roy laughed a little. "Same here; I forgot how it feels to be hugged by someone who means it."
"You can't tell anyone, though," Edward warned.
"Do you honestly think I would?" the man asked. "That would be just as embarrassing for me as it would for you."
"Remember that I hate you. You're a narcissistic jerkwad and you suck at life."
"And you're an impetuous buffoon with the attention span of Hughes."
Edward pulled away and Roy sat back, letting Hawkeye's haori fall down to his wrists. They sat quietly for a moment.
"Tyrell compared us to a real father and son, you know," Edward murmured. "And I think, I just sort of felt a little bit like that could almost maybe be a small part true. A bit. What do you make of it?"
Roy considered it. He looked at his hands in his lap, feeling his cheeks grow heated. "Well, if truth be told…I think I've felt like that for quite a while."
Edward went a little red too. "I don't know how we're gonna face them tomorrow."
"The same way we always do," Roy responded, straightening and making his expression firm. "At each other's throats!"
BWAAAAAAAAH. Another chapter where I stretch Roy's and Ed's affection a little. (I hate doing that sometimes. It's so fun but I feel like I'm doing something illegal...)
Alright, bros, here's the deal: I tried to update about three days ago, but every time I copied and pasted this document off Google Docs, it took out all the italics! Le gasp! I tried several ways to keep them in, but failed each time. I then put in /slashes/ everywhere I wanted italics, but then the upload bubble wouldn't actually let me put in any! D:
And this morning I had a fabulous idea; I pasted this over the top of an already existing document I no longer needed and the italics stayed! WHOO! But then I had to go through it and take all the /slashes/ out... How unnecessarily troublesome! (So if you see a random /slash/, you'll know why.)
So if any of you have this problem, Zakuro just solved it for you! Hooray!
Anyway, I realised something. Why is the ship name 'RoyEd' or 'Parental!RoyEd'? Why aren't I writing Parental!Mustard? Isn't that name awesome?! I thought of this the other day! You see, Mustang plus Edward equals Mustard! Get it?! Awesome ship name right there. We all missed a wonderful opportunity. From now on, I think I'll write Parental!Mustard.
REVIEW RESPONSES:
A Small Voice: As you can see, Al was hiding in their hotel room.
MadManWithATimeTravellingBox: A haori is a traditional Japanese jacket. Ever seen Bleach? It's those white and black jackets all the Captains wear.
Blazingfyres: Thanks for the tip about the censor *s! I'll keep that in mind. I tend to pick on grammar a little too, but I'm always to shy to say anything...
-_-
Do a Barrel Roll: I don't know if Tyrell is secretly a Pokémon, but that would be cool. I think he'd be... Like, something stuck between a Croagunk and a Meditite.
So that's all I have to say today! Thanks for all your brilliant reviews, I'm always over the moon when I read them. (I get 'em when I wake up in the morning; yay time zones!) Leave me your thoughts, they make me so happy! Each and every one! Thanks everyone for all the nice words and tips!
ZAKURO AWAAAAAY! *nyoooooooom*