(no subject)
Title: Penance
Fandom: Fullmetal Alchemist
Rating: PG 13
A/N: This is a fic I originally wrote back in 2005. Once upon a time there was a part three, but frankly it sucked ass and I'm not sorry it's disappeared. I combined the two chapters into one, and here you go.
Ed closed the bathroom door behind him. He was shaking with the effort of keeping it together. Too many damn people . . . way too many. Admittedly, this was a party, and these things tended to attract crowds.
He supposed it was a good one too. He hadn’t really ever been into these things though. All the noise made him nervous. Only Al knew how much it drained him to deal with ordinary things like this.
He slid down to the floor, eyes closed and back to the noise outside. Al had seen him retreat. He could practically feel his brother staring at him through the door. He hated to make Al worry, but he needed a break from all the noise, just to think.
The thing he hated most about all those laughing, happy people was his brother. Al should be one of them. Not trapped in that metal body. Sometimes, Ed wanted to grab them and scream. Tell them all to just stop smiling and laughing and being happy. It wasn’t fair for the world to keep moving. Not when Al couldn’t.
Damnit, he hadn’t meant to cry. He felt like a big baby. He pushed himself to his feet and leaned heavily against the sink, staring blankly at himself in the mirror. At his face. Something Al couldn’t do.
He was staring at the sink now, at the items scattered around it. Mustang should really learn to clean up after himself. Aftershave, deodorant, moisturizer (What the hell? Was Mustang really a girl or something?), a razor . . .
Someone outside crowed with laughter, and others joined in. It was like a knife being twisted in his heart. Ed didn’t even think. He just grabbed and the next thing he knew digging Mustang’s razor into his flesh arm.
A low whimper escaped his throat, and he quickly choked back any further noises. He dug the razor in deeper, his breath hitching in his throat. It felt like something inside of him was winding tighter with every big of pressure he applied. It hurt. A lot. But not nearly as much as it hurt to think about Al.
“I’m sorry Al,” he whispered, and pushed the razor down. That horrible knot in his chest snapped, and he couldn’t hold back the sob of relief. The razor fell from his hand, clattering into the sink. He watched in a daze as blood seeped from the slash, staining his arm red.
Did he really just do that? And had it really helped? He hadn’t even noticed how the pain was building up until thing. It was a relief. He could breathe again.
He jumped when there was a crash out in the living room, followed immediately by a loud curse and a lot of laughter. He actually snorted in amusement. What was he worried about? The door was locked. It wasn’t like half the office was going to bust in and see him with his arm cut to hell and blood dripping into the sink.
Ed clapped his hands softly, placing his fingers on the blood smeared sink. Best to clean that up, and quickly. He ran water over his arm, rinsing away the drying blood. The cut was still bleeding, but it would clot up soon.
He pulled his sleeve back down, covering up the evidence of what he had just done. He glanced in the mirror, and then leaned over to splash water on his face. There, that was better. No way now to tell he’d been crying.
“Hey boss,” Havoc clapped him on the back as he passed him on the way to the living room. “Good timing, I didn’t want to have to beat the door down on you.”
Ed actually laughed, and stuck his hands into the pockets of his jacket as he rejoined the party. He flashed a grin at Al and grabbed a soda. His arm hurt like a bitch. But he could look at all those smiles and not want to punch someone. That was an equivalent trade he could deal with.
“Lieutenant?”
“Yes, Alphonse?”
Riza looked up from the paperwork on her desk, smiling kindly. The younger Elric was seated on one of the chairs in the outer office. Fullmetal was in the Colonel’s office, giving his latest report. As usual, the brother was left to his own devices while he waited.
“What’s on your mind, Alphonse?” she asked, laying her pen aside. The miserable air around him told her something was wrong. This deserved her full attention.
“What would you do it . . . you knew something but were scared to tell anyone? Even if you knew you should?”
Hawkeye considered the suit of armor for a long moment. “If someone is doing something you know is wrong,” she said carefully, “is always best to tell someone who can stop them.” She looked closer. “Is something going on that you need to tell me about?”
“I . . .” Al faltered, and then fell silent. Riza blinked, not sure what to do. She wasn’t any good with children. Especially ones as odd as the Elrics.
“Alphonse,” she began, starting to stand, but the door to Mustang’s office slammed open. Fullmetal stomped out, sending the staff scrambling to get out of his way.
“I’m going to the library Al,” Edward growled, barely slowing as he stalked out the doorway. The young alchemist’s curses floated back down the hallway.
“Lieutenant, could you bring me a coffee?” Mustang called out the door, sounding amused as usual.
“Yes Colonel,” Hawkeye looked back at Alphonse, but he was already heading out the door.
“Have a good day, Lieutenant, everyone,” he said, polite as always, then disappeared out the door.
She watched the door for a moment, then sighed and went to get Mustang his coffee.
Al walked back to the dormitory, alone with his thoughts. He had come so close to spilling his secret with Hawkeye. Only Ed bursting through the room had stopped him. Maybe that was for the best. What if Ed was right? Would they take his brother away if they knew?
He’d found out almost two months ago. He had laid his gauntleted hand on Ed’s arm, and his brother had winced. When he’d asked, Ed had tried to shrug it off. Sore muscles, strained, but Ed was a bad liar. He’d made him show him.
Angry scars and welts, from elbow to wrist. Died blood caked the newest of them. Alphonse had been horrified. He had immediately made Ed sit down and let him clean the newer cuts as best as he could.
They were mostly superficial. The majority of them wouldn’t leave scars. But that Ed would do such a thing . . .
“IT makes it stop hurting Al,” Ed had said softly. “For a little while. I just can’t handle it all sometimes. It makes the pain go away.”
Al had told him he was telling the Colonel. Ed had flown into a desperate rage, cursing and begging his brother at the same time.
“They’ll take me away Al,” he’d whimpered when he’d calmed down enough to be coherent. “They’ll take me away if they knew. You can’t tell. Please.”
So Al kept his mouth shut. He tried to pretend he didn’t hear Ed in bed sometimes, crying softly and whispering he was sorry. He ignored the blood stains on the sleeves of Ed’s shirts on laundry day. He didn’t tell anyone about the small razor Ed had started keeping in his pocket.
At first it hadn’t been that much. Once, maybe twice a week. But no he heard Ed’s whimpers every night. This morning there had been blood on the sheets. Al was getting more and more scared.
He didn’t know what to do.
Ed sat in his special corner of the library, trying to concentrate on the book in front of him. It was all but useless. He felt like a million people were screaming somewhere, and he couldn’t just barely hear them. His head throbbed from the noise. It made him want to scream too.
The all too familiar knot was back again. It hurt to breathe. He had let it out this morning, before he went to see Mustang. And it was back already. Too quick . . . it didn’t work for as long as it used to.
He swallowed hard, trying to dislodge the lump in his throat. His eyes burned with the effort of keeping the tears back. He thrust his automail hand into his pocket, fingering the razor blade he kept in there. It was sharp, as usual.
Glancing around to make sure no one was looking, he pulled the razor out. He pushed his sleeve up, baring his arm. The cuts from this morning were still bleeding slightly. Ed paid them no mind, leaning forward further so his arm was hidden from view under the table.
He had been doing this for four months now. He wasn’t as clumsy as he had been at first. Now, he knew exactly how much pressure to apply, how far to pull down, when to twist it . . .
He caught his breath in a hiss as his first cut went over a fresh one. That didn’t stop him though. He dragged the blade in deeper and raked it back up his arm, pushing down harder. The way the skin gave way was almost fascinating. Flesh was so fragile. Just a little prick and it broke.
Ed bowed his head over the book so it looked as if he were intent on what he was reading, but it was really to hide his tears. He sniffed and drew a shuddering breathe as he retraced the first cut, digging in harder this time.
I’m so sorry Al, he thought. I never meant to do this to you.
He moved the blade closer to his elbow and jammed it in hard.
Mom, I’m sorry, he whispered silently as he forced it downwards roughly. So sorry for it all.
Blood was starting to drip onto the floor under the table. Some part of his mind that wasn’t numbed by guilt and pain screamed at him to stop. But the knot was still there. It was getting bigger.
Practically gasping for air, Ed looked at his arm dimly. It was a wreck. The cuts were deeper than the other ones.
He didn’t consciously make the decision to turn his arm over. He could see the veins through the skin. It all barely registered in his mind. He took the razor and just slashed downward as hard as he could. For Al. For mom. For everyone he had loved but fucked up.
The pain was like a bucket of ice water to the face. His automail hand convulsed, and the razor fell to the ground. The sound it made as it hit the floor seemed to echo loudly in his ears.
Ed tried to stand, but didn’t quite make it. He fell heavily against the table, knocking the stack of books to the floor. He fell with them.
“Major Elric?” The librarian was rushing over, he could hear her footsteps. “Oh MY GOD!” He had a burning urge to tell the woman there was no such thing, but his throat seemed to have closed up. “HELP! CALL AN AMBULANCE!”
He didn’t notice when she knelt by his head. His entire world was narrow to his arm. Blood was pumping steadily from the slashed arteries. It had hurt so badly for a moment. Now it was like all the pain, all the guilt, was flowing out of him, pooling onto the floor of the library.
More people were crowding around him. Someone was wrapping a shirt around his arm, trying to stop the blood. He wanted to protest, tell them to stop making such a big deal out of it, but his voice still wasn’t working.
“Bleeding to death,” he heard from somewhere above him. Silly person, he thought vaguely as it started to get dim. It was just a little cut. What was wrong with the lights in here? “Suicide.”
I’m not trying to kill myself. Thinking was becoming a challenge. I just wanted it to stop hurting is all.
He was so tired. He could barely keep his eyes open. Through the dark haze, he saw a face lean in close to his.
“Mom?” he whispered, fighting to keep his eyes open. “I’m . . . sorr . . . “
The phone rang.
Mustang answered.
The receiver hit the floor.
It hurt so much. He just wanted them to let him sleep. Why wouldn’t they leave him alone and let him take a nap? His mom was there. Everything was okay. It was just a few little cuts.
“Edward, open your eyes.”
He complied, growling when a light was flashed into them. What the hell was this guy’s problem? He tried to bat the light away, but his right arm wouldn’t move. Someone was holding it down.
“. . . Arteries severed . . bleeding out . . .”
Why didn’t they understand he was fine? And why the hell were they trying to hold him down?
“Let go,” he said through gritted teeth, trying to pull his arm away.
“Edward, please stay still!” More weight leaned on his arm. “You’re hurt badly!”
His arm was throbbing, and the pressure on it was making it hurt even worse. He stopped struggling abruptly, trying to get his bleary eyes to focus. Someone . . . the first voice . . . was fiddling around with his arm. It reminded him of Winry adjusting his automail. Why were they making such a big deal about this? The bleeding would stop in a little while like always.
“. . . called headquarters,” he heard vaguely. “Colonel Mustang . . .”
Ed convulsed, terror coursing through him. “NO!” he shouted, throwing the doctor away from him with a strength he didn’t know he had right then. Something ripped in his arm, and he pain shot all the way to the base of his skull. He didn’t care. Mustang couldn’t know. They’d take him away.
“Calm down Edward!” There were hands on him, pushing him back down. They were trying to put restraints on him.
“LET ME GO!” he screamed, swinging blindly with his automail arm. He felt it connect to something, heard a crack and a pained shout. But he didn’t stop. He had to get out of here, away from these people, before the Colonel came. Get to Al, get away from Central.
There was a sharp jab in his left shoulder, then a burning that spread quickly. He sank back onto the bed, groaning. Things were going fuzzy rapidly. He was barely aware of the straps being fastened on his legs and arm, but it didn’t really bother him now. He was so sleepy again.
“Mom?” he whispered, wondering if she was still waiting for him.
Stricken faces surrounded him on every side. Hawkeye’s eyes were puffy from her attempts to hold back tears. Gracia stared blindly at her hands, twisting a handkerchief into a ball in her lap. Major Armstrong was at the window, watching the activity in the ambulance bay. Alphonse just huddled in the corner, trying to make himself as small as possible.
Roy tapped his fingers on his leg, trying to control the nausea in his stomach. The second he had answered the phone, had heard that doctor’s voice, his heart had dropped down to somewhere below his lungs. It was still sitting there.
He’d rushed to the hospital immediately, leaving it to Hawkeye to collect the few others that he thought should be here. Gracia and Armstrong were mostly there for Alphonse, when he decided he wanted to talk. Roy didn’t blame him for staying quiet. He didn’t really want to talk right now either.
Over and over, he replayed the events of that morning. A snarky comment about Fullmetal’s height, a few jibs about damaged buildings . . . nothing out of the ordinary for them. The kid had stomped out as usual, heading for the comfort of the library to calm down.
So what had happened between then and now?
Had he caused it?
Roy was lost in his misery when the doctor came into the room, didn’t even notice the man until he cleared his throat right behind him. Everyone jumped to their feet, not wanting to be the one to break the silence.
“He’ll make it,” the doctor said quietly, motioning for them to all sit back down. He lowered himself down into the seat across from Roy and glanced at Al. The man was too much of a professional to ask any questions, but Roy knew what was going through his head. “The damage was bad, but we got him here quick enough that we could stop the blood loss. He’s a lucky kid.”
He’s only 15, Mustang thought. Still just a kid.
“Can . . . I see him?” Alphonse asked, his voice small and uncertain.
The doctor nodded, standing back up. “Only for a few minutes,” he said, “and keep in mind he’s heavily sedated.”
“I’ll go with you,” Roy said, glancing at Riza. She nodded, understanding.
“We’ll stay out here for now,” she responded, reaching over and touching Gracia’s hand softly. Hughes’s widow smiled faintly.
It wasn’t a long walk to Ed’s recovery room. Alphonse rushed in immediately, going to the bedside and kneeling down. Roy watched, almost choking as he fought to keep his emotions in check, as Al carefully brushed blonde hair back from a pale face.
“Why is his arm gone?” he asked the doctor softly, standing in the doorway. He didn’t want to interrupt Al.
“He went crazy in the ER,” the doctor said, watching his patient warily. “He broke a nurse’s jaw before we managed to get a sedative into him.”
“We’ll take care of it,” was all he said in response. Meaning the military would pay for the nurse’s hospital bills. They took care of their own. He stepped into the room as Ed opened his eyes.
“Wh’rm?” he murmured, staring without recognition at Al.
“I’m here brother,” Al said softly, touching the unbandaged part of Edward’s hand softly. “You’re in the hospital.”
Ed turned his head towards Al, closing his eyes again. “Sl’py.”
“Go back to sleep, I’ll be here,” he whispered, stroking his brother’s hair softly.
Roy took a deep breath. “How long until he can leave?”
The doctor frowned, arms folded across his chest. “This is very serious, Colonel. This boy tried to kill himself. He needs to be kept under observation and receive treatment for this. Next time he might not be so lucky.”
Alphonse jumped liked someone had kicked him. “NO!” he shouted. Ed groaned on the bed, and Al lowered his voice. “You aren’t taking him away from me,” he said fiercely.
The doctor opened his mouth to protest, but Roy cut him off. “Major Elric is under my command,” he said. “And if you look at his records you’ll see that I’m his legal guardian.”
That caught Al’s attention. He jerked his head around and stared at Mustang in shock.
“As his legal guardian, I realize I am going against medical advice, but I’ll be checking him out of the hospital as soon as you say he’s in no danger of bleeding to death.” There was a dangerous glint in Mustang’s eyes, daring the doctor to say one more thing.
“As soon as the sedative wears off we’ll double check the stitches,” the doctor finally said, realizing he didn’t want to fight this battle. “I would strongly suggest that the child receives some sort of counseling for this.”
“He will,” Mustang said, and walked towards Alphonse. “Al, you and Ed are going to be moving out the dorms and in with me. Okay?”
Al just nodded, not sure what to say. Legal guardian? When had that happened? Neither he nor Edward had known anything about this.
“Thank you, Doctor Grey,” Mustang said, nodding his head as he would have to one of his subordinates to dismiss him. “We’ll let you know if we need anything.”
Doctor Grey retreated out the door, muttering to himself about the damn military, thinking it knew best on all subjects. “Start the discharge paperwork for Edward Elric,” he told the nurse at the station down the hallway. “And send all of Nurse Juen’s charges directly to Colonel Mustang.”
Al stared at his brother’s face, counting each breathe. He looked so pale and small in the hospital bed. “Is he really going to be alright Colonel?” he asked quietly.
Roy just patted the armor’s arm awkwardly, wishing he had an answer for that.
* * * *
“Welcome home Edward.”
Ed glowered at Mustang, and then shifted his gaze around the apartment. Home? Not likely. The place smelled faintly of stale cigarettes and beer. It kind of made his stomach twist. He swallowed hard, trying not to remember that he had first done . . . that . . . here.
“BROTHER!” Alphonse hurtled in from the next room, nearly knocking Mustang over in his rush to get to Edward. “How are you feeling? Was the ride here okay? I’ve got your things in our room already. We can move things around later if you want. Do you want something to eat? I started dinner while Mustang went to pick you up!”
Genius or not, not even Ed could keep up with that much at one time. He blinked at Al, then smiled faintly. “Sure Al,” he responded, laying his automail hand on his brother’s arm. His flesh arm was in a sling close to his chest, to keep him from over stretching the stitches.
Al ushered Ed towards the kitchen, babbling about making him a sandwich to hold him over until dinner was ready. Mustang watched them go, then sighed and leaned against the wall. He rubbed the bridge of his nose, wondering if he should go ahead and start drinking now or wait until after dinner.
It had been hell getting Edward out of the hospital. The original doctor was apparently not too cowed by the Colonel to not send a psychiatrist in to check on Ed. At the mere suggestion that perhaps Edward would like to stay a few more days and talk with him more often, Fullmetal had nearly jumped out the window trying to escape the room. Mustang assured the man that the military would see to it that Edward received the necessary counseling at home, and managed to coax the boy back into bed.
Edward hadn’t been too happy about reconnecting his automail either. Though he’d never seen it before today, Roy knew that it involved a fair amount of pain. His heart ached as he watched Ed writhe in pain on the bed, teeth clenched to keep back any noise that might hint at how much it really hurt. It didn’t seem fair. He’d been through enough in the past two days without that additional pain.
“I still think this is a bad idea,” the doctor had grumbled under his breath. “He could use that thing to cause himself more damage you realize.”
“So you suggest we leave it off and leave him completely helpless to do anything? That he depend on others entirely while his other arm heals?”
That had shut the man up finally.
They hadn’t spoken on the car ride back to Mustang’s house. Ed had stared sulkily out the window. He hadn’t brought up what had landed him in that hospital once since the drugs had worn off enough for him to speak coherently. And Mustang wasn’t quite ready for that confrontation yet. Give it a few days, he thought. Let him get adjusted.
Hawkeye was angry at him, not surprisingly. When he’d informed her the Elrics would be moving into his apartment with him, she had nearly blown a hole through him right then.
“Are you INSANE?” she had raged, not caring that half the hospital was staring at them. “You can’t possibly expect this to work!”
“It’s either that or Fullmetal’s going to have to stay HERE,” Roy had countered, arms across his chest. He stared at the floor, praying he wasn’t insane, that he wasn’t making a huge mistake.
“I know you feel some sort of responsibility to these boys, Roy.” She had calmed down a bit now, speaking softer now. “But you know as well as I do you have no idea how to care for teenagers.”
He had shaken his head. “I knew it might come for this when I took legal guardianship of them when Ed passed the exam,” he said. “They need someone to be there for them right now.”
“The only reason you did that was to keep Alphonse from being shipped off to an orphanage Roy. You never planned for anything like this.”
No, he hadn’t. He couldn’t lie about that. But this was what adults did. They lived with their decisions. When he had signed that piece of paper two and a half years ago he’d never imagined it would come to this. He’d never wanted to have this responsibility on him, but it was now.
He’d jumped when a hand had fallen on his shoulder lightly. He looked up, surprised to see Riza standing close to him.
“You can’t be their father, Roy.”
Of course he couldn’t. For one, Roy was here. No one had any idea where Hohenheim Elric was. Roy wondered if the man would even care that one son was a soul trapped in armor, and the other had just very nearly committed suicide.
In the kitchen, Ed laughed at something Al had said. It sounded strained, Roy thought as he hung his coat up and went to join them.
-
“This is very good, Alphonse,” Roy said. Honestly, he had been a little apprehensive about letting the boy cook. Who would have thought a suit of armor could make spaghetti?
Al laughed a little, obviously embarrassed by the praise. “Thank you. I used to help my mo..” He broke off quickly. “I’m going to go clean the kitchen.”
Edward didn’t raise his head when his brother left, seemingly intent on the plate in front of him. He hadn’t said more than four words since Roy had joined them. The two of them ate in silence for a long moment, both concentrating fully on their own thoughts.
“Thank you for letting us stay here,” Ed said quietly after a while. “We’ll try to stay out of you way, and as soon as my arm is better we’ll get back to the dorms.”
Roy set his fork down with a sigh. “You’re going to be staying here longer than that Edward.” He looked across the table at the boy, who was opening his mouth to object. “I had to pull quite a few strings to get you out of that hospital. One of the stipulations is you have to stay with the adult legally responsible for you.”
Ed snapped his mouth shut, then shoved more food in. It was either that or say something unbearable rude. When he’d calmed down enough, he simply asked, “Why?”
There was silence for a few moments longer while Roy tried to work it out for himself. Why indeed? Why had any of this happened?
“Edward, I hadn’t told you about it before because it didn’t seem important.” He sipped his drink, thinking he was going to have to go buy more vodka tomorrow. “But you’re still a minor. As is your brother. The military could take responsibility for you when you passed the State Alchemy Exam, but your brother would have been put in foster care. The only way to prevent that was for someone to become his legal guardian. And taking guardianship of one brother brings along the other.”
“But . . . what about our father?” Ed had his teeth clenched, hating to even mention that word aloud.
Another drink, more this time. Yes, definitely a new bottle tomorrow. “Your father disappeared, Edward. As far as the military is concerned, he’s no longer alive.”
More silence.
“Why didn’t you tell me before?” Edward finally asked, his voice very small.
Roy ran his finger around the rim of the glass in front of him, staring into it as if it might hold all the answers. “I didn’t want you to worry yourself with it.” He looked up, swallowing a lump in his throat as he saw a single tear slide down Edward’s cheek.
“Thanks,” Ed murmured, then went back to eating.
“The military is sending over a psychiatrist first thing in the morning.” While he hated to bring it up, it was better to tell him beforehand and let him get the tantrum out of his system before the psychiatrist got here.
Sure enough, Edward threw his fork down and jumped to his feet. “I don’t need a damn psychiatrist!” he yelled, slamming his automail fist into the table. Wood cracked, and Roy wondered if he ought to invest in metal furniture. “I’m fine. It was an accident, okay?”
“You nearly died from that ‘accident’, Edward,” Roy reminded him calmly. “And those scars say this has been going on for some time. Obviously you’re not fine.”
Ed kicked the chair behind him, sending it skittering across the floor. It fell over with a loud thunk. “It was an ACCIDENT!” he shouted, tears welling up in his eyes. “I’m not going to talk to some damn quack who thinks he knows more about me than I do!”
“We can either do this here or you can go back to the hospital, Ed,” Roy said, an edge in his voice. “Either way, you’re going to see a doctor about this.”
Ed shot him a look of pure hatred, then stormed out of the room, nearly knocking Al over in the process. Al tried to stop Ed as he went by, but the older brother just shrugged the younger one off and ran up the stairs.
Roy downed the rest of his glass as he heard the bedroom door slam shut.
Ed fell across the bed furthest away from the door, hissing when he landed on his arm. He rolled onto his side, rubbing at his eyes carefully. “I’m not crying,” he said aloud, as if someone was watching. “Just mad.”
“Brother?” Al said from the other side of the door. “Are you okay?”
Okay. He was getting incredibly sick of people asking if he was ‘okay’. “Yah, I’m just going to go to sleep Al.”
He heard Al sigh and had to clench his jaw to keep from just yelling. “Okay, sleep well . . .”
I just want to be alone. He pulled off his clothes, hampered only slightly by being one armed. With all the times his automail had been damaged in the past few years he’d gotten used to doing things like that. It felt odd for it to be reversed though. As he slid under the covers he heard Al’s soft voice and Roy’s answering murmur. Were they talking about him?
He closed his eyes and tried to fall asleep.
---
“Why won’t you admit you need help, Edward?”
“Why won’t you shut the fuck up?”
“If you won’t admit that you were doing something wrong, Edward, we can’t make any progress here.”
“Shove it up your ass.”
Roy sneaked a peek in the study where the military psychiatrist was talking to Edward. Doctor Young was a good man. He had spoken to him once, after Ishbar. The man honestly cared for the patients he had. It spoke volumes about his character that Young hadn’t snapped and knocked the shit out of Fullmetal.
For the past half hour, Young had coaxed, cajoled, and basically pleaded Edward to talk about what he had done, why he had done it, what was going through his head right now.
Edward wasn’t having any of it.
He knew he shouldn’t, but Roy was glad that Fullmetal’s ire was directed at someone else for the moment.
“Edward, you know that I’m the only one keeping you out of that hospital right now.”
He didn’t have anything to say in response to that. Ed was curled up on the couch across from the doctor, legs tucked up under his chin and his automail arm wrapped around them. He hadn’t so much as looked at the doctor since he’d walked into the room.
Young sighed, running his fingers through his graying hair. “Why don’t you tell me about your automail?” he asked, changing tactics.
Ed raised one shoulder in a shrug. “I did something I shouldn’t have, and this is the price I paid,” he said coldly. “It’s not like it’s a big deal.”
“Did it hurt much?”
He made a rather unflattering noise. “Fuck yah it hurt. They have to attach each nerve to the port. It hurts like hell whenever I have to put it back on. Like when those morons at the hospital took it off.”
Roy shook his head, amazed, as Edward told Young in graphic detail about the surgery to put the automail ports in. He doubted he’d ever be able to get Ed to open up to him like that.
Roy shrugged into his coat at the door, glancing back towards Al. The younger Elric was engrossed in a book from his library. “I’ll be at Headquarters if you need me,” he said awkwardly. “Ask Ed to call me after Doctor Young leaves.”
Al didn’t even raise his head, just mmed an affirmative. Roy smirked and let himself out quietly.
About an hour after he arrived at his office, the phone rang. He didn’t realize he had been waiting for it until he jumped and nearly snatched the receiver halfway through the first ring.
Everything is fine, he told himself. But he couldn’t forget the last time he had answered that phone. “Colonel Mustang.”
“Uhm, hey Colonel,” Ed’s voice came over the phone. “Al told me you needed to speak with me.”
Roy laughed slightly. “I just wanted to make sure Doctor Young hadn’t throttled you,” he said, skimming his eyes over an expense report. “Did everything go okay?”
There was a long pause on the other end. “Yah, sure,” Ed replied, his voice tight. “When are you going to be leaving the office? Al wants to know when to start dinner.”
Roy glanced at the teetering pile of paperwork, then craned his neck to look out the doorway. Hawkeye was at her desk, the gun at her side painfully obvious. “Uhm, possibly 5:30.”
“See you then.” The phone clicked, and Roy sighed. He went back to his paperwork.
Ed was quiet while they ate supper. Roy watched him out of the corner of his eye. The boy was mostly just pushing his vegetables around the plate with his fork.
“So when am I cleared to get back to work?” Fullmetal asked abruptly.
Roy glanced up over the edge of his glass. “That depends entirely on your progress with Doctor Young, Ed.”
Ed scowled at him, but didn’t say anything. He returned his attention to the vegetables in front of him. A carrot was slowly being smashed into a paste.
“So you never really said how things went with Doctor Young,” Roy said after a moment.
The fork screeched across the plate, setting his teeth on edge. “It was fine.”
Roy stared at his glass. It was almost empty. “What did you talk about with him?”
Ed shoved himself to his feet, his face pale. “I’m going upstairs,” he said through clenched teeth.
Damnit, Roy thought. “Ed, calm down and finish your dinner,” he said. “There’s no need to..”
“Just shut up,” Ed screamed. “Just SHUT THE FUCK UP.” He stood there, his automail fist clenched at his side. “We’ve been here for TWO FUCKING DAYS. That doesn’t give you any right to pry into my life!”
Roy blinked, setting his glass down. “Edward, I’m just worried about you.”
“DON’T!” Ed glared at him. “I don’t need your damn concern! I’ve made it this far without any help!”
“And look where you are now,” Roy said, trying very hard not to raise his voice.
Ed blanched, taking a step back. “It’s none of your damn business,” he hissed. “You’re my commanding officer, not my fucking father, so stop pretending like you are.”
“I have a responsibility to you!” Roy counted, his voice cracking. “I’m not going to stand here and watch you destroy yourself!” He waved a hand at Alphonse who was huddled miserably in his chair. “If you’re incapable of thinking about yourself, why don’t you think about your brother?”
Edward grabbed his plate and heaved it at Mustang. “Don’t you throw shit in my face you bastard!” he raged.
The plate smashed against the wall to the left of Roy. Alphonse winced and let out a whimper. “Brother, please stop,” Al whispered. “He just wants to help. He cares.”
Ed’s anger faltered, and he stared at his brother. “Al...” he said, his fist unclenching. “I’m sorry…”
Roy stepped around the table. “He’s right Edward,” he said softly. “I only want to help you.” He laid his hand gently on the young alchemist’s shoulder.
“Don’t touch me!” Ed jerked away violently, his anger returning immediately. “I don’t need your fucking help!”
“You could have fooled me,” Roy responded dryly, an automatic flippant response that he regretted immediately. Ed’s automail fist connected squarely with his gut.
“I HATE YOU you smart ass fucking BASTARD!” Ed screamed as Roy doubled up. “You know nothing about me. NOTHING!” He turned and fled the room.
“Brother!” Alphonse called, jumping to his feet and rushing after Ed.
Automail hurts, Roy thought as he fell into the chair beside him. That didn’t go the way he’d planned. He was contemplating whether another drink would numb the pain in his stomach when he heard a startled yelp. There was a loud thump, then Al shrieked.
He was in the living room in an instant, running to where Alphonse was kneeling next to Edward at the foot of the stairs.
“He fell! He fell!” Alphonse babbled, hovering over his brother.
“Ed,” Roy said, dropping down to his knees, “you still there?”
“Mgh,” was the response he got, and Edward opened his eyes slowly. “That hurt…”
“Well, if you took the steps like a normal human and not three at a time these things wouldn’t happen,” Roy said, feeling Edward’s head carefully. “Doesn’t feel like your skull if cracked. That hard head of yours came in handy.”
Ed growled, trying to move away. “Stop poking, head hurts,” he muttered, raising his right arm to push his hair away from his eyes. “Lot hurts.”
“Can you move everything?” Roy tried to get a good luck at Edward’s eyes. The boy probably had a concussion from that fall.
“Don’t think anything’s broken,” Ed groaned. “Just need some aspirin…” He levered himself up with his automail arm.
“No wait,” Roy began, too late. A moment later Ed was laying on his back again, looking very embarrassed, and Roy was staring blankly at the mess on his boots.
“Back to the hospital,” he said firmly, overriding Edward’s mumbled protests. “Don’t argue, Ed. You’ve got a concussion.” He looked at Alphonse, who was staring in mute horror. “Go call headquarters and have a car sent around Alphonse.”
“Yes sir!” It was disconcerting for a suit of armor to squeak like that.
“Colonel?” Ed mumbled. “I feel really sleepy.”
“You can sleep later, Ed,” Roy said, kicking his boots off. That was going to be fun to clean up later. “You can’t sleep with a concussion.”
Ed grunted, then sighed and stared the ceiling. “I feel really stupid right now.”
“It’s alright.”
Roy carried Edward to the car when it pulled up. He hadn’t even allowed him to try to stand this time, just scooped him up and headed out the door.
Ed didn’t argue, nor did he struggle thankfully. Roy hadn’t expected him to be so heavy, even with the automail.
Havoc flashed a worried glance back at Edward and Roy before he pulled away from the house. “Colonel, you realize you’re not wearing shoes, right?”
“I’m aware of that,” Roy replied, helping Ed arrange himself with his head pillowed on a coat. Ed groaned, curling himself into a ball of misery on the seat.
“You doing okay back there boss?” Havoc asked, his voice a little anxious.
“I’ll try not to puke in the car, Havoc,” Ed said weakly.
Roy leaned over and frowned. Definitely a concussion. The kid’s eyes were unfocused. And he looked a little green. “Pull over,” he said urgently, waving his hand at Havoc.
“Sorry,” Ed said a moment later in a very small voice.
Three hours later, Havoc unlocked the door. Roy stepped inside, cradling Ed’s sleeping form in his arms. “Thank you again Jean,” he said quietly, trying not to disturb his burden. Ed’s head was cushioned against his shoulder, automail arm thrown limply around his neck.
“Not a problem Colonel,” Havoc replied, popping off a salute. “Tell Ed I said to watch those stairs in the future, they’re a killer.”
Roy smirked as he nudged the door shut behind him. Alphonse was sitting at the bottom of the steps, waiting for them.
“I cleaned up while you were gone,” he said softly when he saw his brother was sleeping. “Is he okay?”
“He’ll be fine, Alphonse,” Roy said with a reassuring smile. He started up the stairs slowly. “They gave him a shot for the nausea and it knocked him right out is all.”
Al followed him to the bedroom and watched as Roy carefully laid Edward down and pulled the sheets over him. “He didn’t mean what he said, sir,” Al said quietly.
“I know Alphonse” He made sure the sheets were tucked in snuggly, then sat back and rubbed his forehead.
“I’ll go get a glass of water for him for if he wakes up.” Al disappeared out the door, and Roy heard the soft blanks of the boy trying to walk quietly.
“Colonel?”
He turned back to the bed, seeing Ed’s eyes opened slightly. “Just sleep Ed,” he said, patting the boy’s shoulder. “That’s the best thing for you right now.”
“You stayed with me, right?” Ed mumbled, eyes closing again.
“Of course.”
“Thank you,” Ed said simply, dozing off again. “Sorry I called you a bastard.”
A small smile stole across Roy’s face as he watched Edward fall back to sleep. That was a start at least.
Fandom: Fullmetal Alchemist
Rating: PG 13
A/N: This is a fic I originally wrote back in 2005. Once upon a time there was a part three, but frankly it sucked ass and I'm not sorry it's disappeared. I combined the two chapters into one, and here you go.
Ed closed the bathroom door behind him. He was shaking with the effort of keeping it together. Too many damn people . . . way too many. Admittedly, this was a party, and these things tended to attract crowds.
He supposed it was a good one too. He hadn’t really ever been into these things though. All the noise made him nervous. Only Al knew how much it drained him to deal with ordinary things like this.
He slid down to the floor, eyes closed and back to the noise outside. Al had seen him retreat. He could practically feel his brother staring at him through the door. He hated to make Al worry, but he needed a break from all the noise, just to think.
The thing he hated most about all those laughing, happy people was his brother. Al should be one of them. Not trapped in that metal body. Sometimes, Ed wanted to grab them and scream. Tell them all to just stop smiling and laughing and being happy. It wasn’t fair for the world to keep moving. Not when Al couldn’t.
Damnit, he hadn’t meant to cry. He felt like a big baby. He pushed himself to his feet and leaned heavily against the sink, staring blankly at himself in the mirror. At his face. Something Al couldn’t do.
He was staring at the sink now, at the items scattered around it. Mustang should really learn to clean up after himself. Aftershave, deodorant, moisturizer (What the hell? Was Mustang really a girl or something?), a razor . . .
Someone outside crowed with laughter, and others joined in. It was like a knife being twisted in his heart. Ed didn’t even think. He just grabbed and the next thing he knew digging Mustang’s razor into his flesh arm.
A low whimper escaped his throat, and he quickly choked back any further noises. He dug the razor in deeper, his breath hitching in his throat. It felt like something inside of him was winding tighter with every big of pressure he applied. It hurt. A lot. But not nearly as much as it hurt to think about Al.
“I’m sorry Al,” he whispered, and pushed the razor down. That horrible knot in his chest snapped, and he couldn’t hold back the sob of relief. The razor fell from his hand, clattering into the sink. He watched in a daze as blood seeped from the slash, staining his arm red.
Did he really just do that? And had it really helped? He hadn’t even noticed how the pain was building up until thing. It was a relief. He could breathe again.
He jumped when there was a crash out in the living room, followed immediately by a loud curse and a lot of laughter. He actually snorted in amusement. What was he worried about? The door was locked. It wasn’t like half the office was going to bust in and see him with his arm cut to hell and blood dripping into the sink.
Ed clapped his hands softly, placing his fingers on the blood smeared sink. Best to clean that up, and quickly. He ran water over his arm, rinsing away the drying blood. The cut was still bleeding, but it would clot up soon.
He pulled his sleeve back down, covering up the evidence of what he had just done. He glanced in the mirror, and then leaned over to splash water on his face. There, that was better. No way now to tell he’d been crying.
“Hey boss,” Havoc clapped him on the back as he passed him on the way to the living room. “Good timing, I didn’t want to have to beat the door down on you.”
Ed actually laughed, and stuck his hands into the pockets of his jacket as he rejoined the party. He flashed a grin at Al and grabbed a soda. His arm hurt like a bitch. But he could look at all those smiles and not want to punch someone. That was an equivalent trade he could deal with.
“Lieutenant?”
“Yes, Alphonse?”
Riza looked up from the paperwork on her desk, smiling kindly. The younger Elric was seated on one of the chairs in the outer office. Fullmetal was in the Colonel’s office, giving his latest report. As usual, the brother was left to his own devices while he waited.
“What’s on your mind, Alphonse?” she asked, laying her pen aside. The miserable air around him told her something was wrong. This deserved her full attention.
“What would you do it . . . you knew something but were scared to tell anyone? Even if you knew you should?”
Hawkeye considered the suit of armor for a long moment. “If someone is doing something you know is wrong,” she said carefully, “is always best to tell someone who can stop them.” She looked closer. “Is something going on that you need to tell me about?”
“I . . .” Al faltered, and then fell silent. Riza blinked, not sure what to do. She wasn’t any good with children. Especially ones as odd as the Elrics.
“Alphonse,” she began, starting to stand, but the door to Mustang’s office slammed open. Fullmetal stomped out, sending the staff scrambling to get out of his way.
“I’m going to the library Al,” Edward growled, barely slowing as he stalked out the doorway. The young alchemist’s curses floated back down the hallway.
“Lieutenant, could you bring me a coffee?” Mustang called out the door, sounding amused as usual.
“Yes Colonel,” Hawkeye looked back at Alphonse, but he was already heading out the door.
“Have a good day, Lieutenant, everyone,” he said, polite as always, then disappeared out the door.
She watched the door for a moment, then sighed and went to get Mustang his coffee.
Al walked back to the dormitory, alone with his thoughts. He had come so close to spilling his secret with Hawkeye. Only Ed bursting through the room had stopped him. Maybe that was for the best. What if Ed was right? Would they take his brother away if they knew?
He’d found out almost two months ago. He had laid his gauntleted hand on Ed’s arm, and his brother had winced. When he’d asked, Ed had tried to shrug it off. Sore muscles, strained, but Ed was a bad liar. He’d made him show him.
Angry scars and welts, from elbow to wrist. Died blood caked the newest of them. Alphonse had been horrified. He had immediately made Ed sit down and let him clean the newer cuts as best as he could.
They were mostly superficial. The majority of them wouldn’t leave scars. But that Ed would do such a thing . . .
“IT makes it stop hurting Al,” Ed had said softly. “For a little while. I just can’t handle it all sometimes. It makes the pain go away.”
Al had told him he was telling the Colonel. Ed had flown into a desperate rage, cursing and begging his brother at the same time.
“They’ll take me away Al,” he’d whimpered when he’d calmed down enough to be coherent. “They’ll take me away if they knew. You can’t tell. Please.”
So Al kept his mouth shut. He tried to pretend he didn’t hear Ed in bed sometimes, crying softly and whispering he was sorry. He ignored the blood stains on the sleeves of Ed’s shirts on laundry day. He didn’t tell anyone about the small razor Ed had started keeping in his pocket.
At first it hadn’t been that much. Once, maybe twice a week. But no he heard Ed’s whimpers every night. This morning there had been blood on the sheets. Al was getting more and more scared.
He didn’t know what to do.
Ed sat in his special corner of the library, trying to concentrate on the book in front of him. It was all but useless. He felt like a million people were screaming somewhere, and he couldn’t just barely hear them. His head throbbed from the noise. It made him want to scream too.
The all too familiar knot was back again. It hurt to breathe. He had let it out this morning, before he went to see Mustang. And it was back already. Too quick . . . it didn’t work for as long as it used to.
He swallowed hard, trying to dislodge the lump in his throat. His eyes burned with the effort of keeping the tears back. He thrust his automail hand into his pocket, fingering the razor blade he kept in there. It was sharp, as usual.
Glancing around to make sure no one was looking, he pulled the razor out. He pushed his sleeve up, baring his arm. The cuts from this morning were still bleeding slightly. Ed paid them no mind, leaning forward further so his arm was hidden from view under the table.
He had been doing this for four months now. He wasn’t as clumsy as he had been at first. Now, he knew exactly how much pressure to apply, how far to pull down, when to twist it . . .
He caught his breath in a hiss as his first cut went over a fresh one. That didn’t stop him though. He dragged the blade in deeper and raked it back up his arm, pushing down harder. The way the skin gave way was almost fascinating. Flesh was so fragile. Just a little prick and it broke.
Ed bowed his head over the book so it looked as if he were intent on what he was reading, but it was really to hide his tears. He sniffed and drew a shuddering breathe as he retraced the first cut, digging in harder this time.
I’m so sorry Al, he thought. I never meant to do this to you.
He moved the blade closer to his elbow and jammed it in hard.
Mom, I’m sorry, he whispered silently as he forced it downwards roughly. So sorry for it all.
Blood was starting to drip onto the floor under the table. Some part of his mind that wasn’t numbed by guilt and pain screamed at him to stop. But the knot was still there. It was getting bigger.
Practically gasping for air, Ed looked at his arm dimly. It was a wreck. The cuts were deeper than the other ones.
He didn’t consciously make the decision to turn his arm over. He could see the veins through the skin. It all barely registered in his mind. He took the razor and just slashed downward as hard as he could. For Al. For mom. For everyone he had loved but fucked up.
The pain was like a bucket of ice water to the face. His automail hand convulsed, and the razor fell to the ground. The sound it made as it hit the floor seemed to echo loudly in his ears.
Ed tried to stand, but didn’t quite make it. He fell heavily against the table, knocking the stack of books to the floor. He fell with them.
“Major Elric?” The librarian was rushing over, he could hear her footsteps. “Oh MY GOD!” He had a burning urge to tell the woman there was no such thing, but his throat seemed to have closed up. “HELP! CALL AN AMBULANCE!”
He didn’t notice when she knelt by his head. His entire world was narrow to his arm. Blood was pumping steadily from the slashed arteries. It had hurt so badly for a moment. Now it was like all the pain, all the guilt, was flowing out of him, pooling onto the floor of the library.
More people were crowding around him. Someone was wrapping a shirt around his arm, trying to stop the blood. He wanted to protest, tell them to stop making such a big deal out of it, but his voice still wasn’t working.
“Bleeding to death,” he heard from somewhere above him. Silly person, he thought vaguely as it started to get dim. It was just a little cut. What was wrong with the lights in here? “Suicide.”
I’m not trying to kill myself. Thinking was becoming a challenge. I just wanted it to stop hurting is all.
He was so tired. He could barely keep his eyes open. Through the dark haze, he saw a face lean in close to his.
“Mom?” he whispered, fighting to keep his eyes open. “I’m . . . sorr . . . “
The phone rang.
Mustang answered.
The receiver hit the floor.
It hurt so much. He just wanted them to let him sleep. Why wouldn’t they leave him alone and let him take a nap? His mom was there. Everything was okay. It was just a few little cuts.
“Edward, open your eyes.”
He complied, growling when a light was flashed into them. What the hell was this guy’s problem? He tried to bat the light away, but his right arm wouldn’t move. Someone was holding it down.
“. . . Arteries severed . . bleeding out . . .”
Why didn’t they understand he was fine? And why the hell were they trying to hold him down?
“Let go,” he said through gritted teeth, trying to pull his arm away.
“Edward, please stay still!” More weight leaned on his arm. “You’re hurt badly!”
His arm was throbbing, and the pressure on it was making it hurt even worse. He stopped struggling abruptly, trying to get his bleary eyes to focus. Someone . . . the first voice . . . was fiddling around with his arm. It reminded him of Winry adjusting his automail. Why were they making such a big deal about this? The bleeding would stop in a little while like always.
“. . . called headquarters,” he heard vaguely. “Colonel Mustang . . .”
Ed convulsed, terror coursing through him. “NO!” he shouted, throwing the doctor away from him with a strength he didn’t know he had right then. Something ripped in his arm, and he pain shot all the way to the base of his skull. He didn’t care. Mustang couldn’t know. They’d take him away.
“Calm down Edward!” There were hands on him, pushing him back down. They were trying to put restraints on him.
“LET ME GO!” he screamed, swinging blindly with his automail arm. He felt it connect to something, heard a crack and a pained shout. But he didn’t stop. He had to get out of here, away from these people, before the Colonel came. Get to Al, get away from Central.
There was a sharp jab in his left shoulder, then a burning that spread quickly. He sank back onto the bed, groaning. Things were going fuzzy rapidly. He was barely aware of the straps being fastened on his legs and arm, but it didn’t really bother him now. He was so sleepy again.
“Mom?” he whispered, wondering if she was still waiting for him.
Stricken faces surrounded him on every side. Hawkeye’s eyes were puffy from her attempts to hold back tears. Gracia stared blindly at her hands, twisting a handkerchief into a ball in her lap. Major Armstrong was at the window, watching the activity in the ambulance bay. Alphonse just huddled in the corner, trying to make himself as small as possible.
Roy tapped his fingers on his leg, trying to control the nausea in his stomach. The second he had answered the phone, had heard that doctor’s voice, his heart had dropped down to somewhere below his lungs. It was still sitting there.
He’d rushed to the hospital immediately, leaving it to Hawkeye to collect the few others that he thought should be here. Gracia and Armstrong were mostly there for Alphonse, when he decided he wanted to talk. Roy didn’t blame him for staying quiet. He didn’t really want to talk right now either.
Over and over, he replayed the events of that morning. A snarky comment about Fullmetal’s height, a few jibs about damaged buildings . . . nothing out of the ordinary for them. The kid had stomped out as usual, heading for the comfort of the library to calm down.
So what had happened between then and now?
Had he caused it?
Roy was lost in his misery when the doctor came into the room, didn’t even notice the man until he cleared his throat right behind him. Everyone jumped to their feet, not wanting to be the one to break the silence.
“He’ll make it,” the doctor said quietly, motioning for them to all sit back down. He lowered himself down into the seat across from Roy and glanced at Al. The man was too much of a professional to ask any questions, but Roy knew what was going through his head. “The damage was bad, but we got him here quick enough that we could stop the blood loss. He’s a lucky kid.”
He’s only 15, Mustang thought. Still just a kid.
“Can . . . I see him?” Alphonse asked, his voice small and uncertain.
The doctor nodded, standing back up. “Only for a few minutes,” he said, “and keep in mind he’s heavily sedated.”
“I’ll go with you,” Roy said, glancing at Riza. She nodded, understanding.
“We’ll stay out here for now,” she responded, reaching over and touching Gracia’s hand softly. Hughes’s widow smiled faintly.
It wasn’t a long walk to Ed’s recovery room. Alphonse rushed in immediately, going to the bedside and kneeling down. Roy watched, almost choking as he fought to keep his emotions in check, as Al carefully brushed blonde hair back from a pale face.
“Why is his arm gone?” he asked the doctor softly, standing in the doorway. He didn’t want to interrupt Al.
“He went crazy in the ER,” the doctor said, watching his patient warily. “He broke a nurse’s jaw before we managed to get a sedative into him.”
“We’ll take care of it,” was all he said in response. Meaning the military would pay for the nurse’s hospital bills. They took care of their own. He stepped into the room as Ed opened his eyes.
“Wh’rm?” he murmured, staring without recognition at Al.
“I’m here brother,” Al said softly, touching the unbandaged part of Edward’s hand softly. “You’re in the hospital.”
Ed turned his head towards Al, closing his eyes again. “Sl’py.”
“Go back to sleep, I’ll be here,” he whispered, stroking his brother’s hair softly.
Roy took a deep breath. “How long until he can leave?”
The doctor frowned, arms folded across his chest. “This is very serious, Colonel. This boy tried to kill himself. He needs to be kept under observation and receive treatment for this. Next time he might not be so lucky.”
Alphonse jumped liked someone had kicked him. “NO!” he shouted. Ed groaned on the bed, and Al lowered his voice. “You aren’t taking him away from me,” he said fiercely.
The doctor opened his mouth to protest, but Roy cut him off. “Major Elric is under my command,” he said. “And if you look at his records you’ll see that I’m his legal guardian.”
That caught Al’s attention. He jerked his head around and stared at Mustang in shock.
“As his legal guardian, I realize I am going against medical advice, but I’ll be checking him out of the hospital as soon as you say he’s in no danger of bleeding to death.” There was a dangerous glint in Mustang’s eyes, daring the doctor to say one more thing.
“As soon as the sedative wears off we’ll double check the stitches,” the doctor finally said, realizing he didn’t want to fight this battle. “I would strongly suggest that the child receives some sort of counseling for this.”
“He will,” Mustang said, and walked towards Alphonse. “Al, you and Ed are going to be moving out the dorms and in with me. Okay?”
Al just nodded, not sure what to say. Legal guardian? When had that happened? Neither he nor Edward had known anything about this.
“Thank you, Doctor Grey,” Mustang said, nodding his head as he would have to one of his subordinates to dismiss him. “We’ll let you know if we need anything.”
Doctor Grey retreated out the door, muttering to himself about the damn military, thinking it knew best on all subjects. “Start the discharge paperwork for Edward Elric,” he told the nurse at the station down the hallway. “And send all of Nurse Juen’s charges directly to Colonel Mustang.”
Al stared at his brother’s face, counting each breathe. He looked so pale and small in the hospital bed. “Is he really going to be alright Colonel?” he asked quietly.
Roy just patted the armor’s arm awkwardly, wishing he had an answer for that.
* * * *
“Welcome home Edward.”
Ed glowered at Mustang, and then shifted his gaze around the apartment. Home? Not likely. The place smelled faintly of stale cigarettes and beer. It kind of made his stomach twist. He swallowed hard, trying not to remember that he had first done . . . that . . . here.
“BROTHER!” Alphonse hurtled in from the next room, nearly knocking Mustang over in his rush to get to Edward. “How are you feeling? Was the ride here okay? I’ve got your things in our room already. We can move things around later if you want. Do you want something to eat? I started dinner while Mustang went to pick you up!”
Genius or not, not even Ed could keep up with that much at one time. He blinked at Al, then smiled faintly. “Sure Al,” he responded, laying his automail hand on his brother’s arm. His flesh arm was in a sling close to his chest, to keep him from over stretching the stitches.
Al ushered Ed towards the kitchen, babbling about making him a sandwich to hold him over until dinner was ready. Mustang watched them go, then sighed and leaned against the wall. He rubbed the bridge of his nose, wondering if he should go ahead and start drinking now or wait until after dinner.
It had been hell getting Edward out of the hospital. The original doctor was apparently not too cowed by the Colonel to not send a psychiatrist in to check on Ed. At the mere suggestion that perhaps Edward would like to stay a few more days and talk with him more often, Fullmetal had nearly jumped out the window trying to escape the room. Mustang assured the man that the military would see to it that Edward received the necessary counseling at home, and managed to coax the boy back into bed.
Edward hadn’t been too happy about reconnecting his automail either. Though he’d never seen it before today, Roy knew that it involved a fair amount of pain. His heart ached as he watched Ed writhe in pain on the bed, teeth clenched to keep back any noise that might hint at how much it really hurt. It didn’t seem fair. He’d been through enough in the past two days without that additional pain.
“I still think this is a bad idea,” the doctor had grumbled under his breath. “He could use that thing to cause himself more damage you realize.”
“So you suggest we leave it off and leave him completely helpless to do anything? That he depend on others entirely while his other arm heals?”
That had shut the man up finally.
They hadn’t spoken on the car ride back to Mustang’s house. Ed had stared sulkily out the window. He hadn’t brought up what had landed him in that hospital once since the drugs had worn off enough for him to speak coherently. And Mustang wasn’t quite ready for that confrontation yet. Give it a few days, he thought. Let him get adjusted.
Hawkeye was angry at him, not surprisingly. When he’d informed her the Elrics would be moving into his apartment with him, she had nearly blown a hole through him right then.
“Are you INSANE?” she had raged, not caring that half the hospital was staring at them. “You can’t possibly expect this to work!”
“It’s either that or Fullmetal’s going to have to stay HERE,” Roy had countered, arms across his chest. He stared at the floor, praying he wasn’t insane, that he wasn’t making a huge mistake.
“I know you feel some sort of responsibility to these boys, Roy.” She had calmed down a bit now, speaking softer now. “But you know as well as I do you have no idea how to care for teenagers.”
He had shaken his head. “I knew it might come for this when I took legal guardianship of them when Ed passed the exam,” he said. “They need someone to be there for them right now.”
“The only reason you did that was to keep Alphonse from being shipped off to an orphanage Roy. You never planned for anything like this.”
No, he hadn’t. He couldn’t lie about that. But this was what adults did. They lived with their decisions. When he had signed that piece of paper two and a half years ago he’d never imagined it would come to this. He’d never wanted to have this responsibility on him, but it was now.
He’d jumped when a hand had fallen on his shoulder lightly. He looked up, surprised to see Riza standing close to him.
“You can’t be their father, Roy.”
Of course he couldn’t. For one, Roy was here. No one had any idea where Hohenheim Elric was. Roy wondered if the man would even care that one son was a soul trapped in armor, and the other had just very nearly committed suicide.
In the kitchen, Ed laughed at something Al had said. It sounded strained, Roy thought as he hung his coat up and went to join them.
-
“This is very good, Alphonse,” Roy said. Honestly, he had been a little apprehensive about letting the boy cook. Who would have thought a suit of armor could make spaghetti?
Al laughed a little, obviously embarrassed by the praise. “Thank you. I used to help my mo..” He broke off quickly. “I’m going to go clean the kitchen.”
Edward didn’t raise his head when his brother left, seemingly intent on the plate in front of him. He hadn’t said more than four words since Roy had joined them. The two of them ate in silence for a long moment, both concentrating fully on their own thoughts.
“Thank you for letting us stay here,” Ed said quietly after a while. “We’ll try to stay out of you way, and as soon as my arm is better we’ll get back to the dorms.”
Roy set his fork down with a sigh. “You’re going to be staying here longer than that Edward.” He looked across the table at the boy, who was opening his mouth to object. “I had to pull quite a few strings to get you out of that hospital. One of the stipulations is you have to stay with the adult legally responsible for you.”
Ed snapped his mouth shut, then shoved more food in. It was either that or say something unbearable rude. When he’d calmed down enough, he simply asked, “Why?”
There was silence for a few moments longer while Roy tried to work it out for himself. Why indeed? Why had any of this happened?
“Edward, I hadn’t told you about it before because it didn’t seem important.” He sipped his drink, thinking he was going to have to go buy more vodka tomorrow. “But you’re still a minor. As is your brother. The military could take responsibility for you when you passed the State Alchemy Exam, but your brother would have been put in foster care. The only way to prevent that was for someone to become his legal guardian. And taking guardianship of one brother brings along the other.”
“But . . . what about our father?” Ed had his teeth clenched, hating to even mention that word aloud.
Another drink, more this time. Yes, definitely a new bottle tomorrow. “Your father disappeared, Edward. As far as the military is concerned, he’s no longer alive.”
More silence.
“Why didn’t you tell me before?” Edward finally asked, his voice very small.
Roy ran his finger around the rim of the glass in front of him, staring into it as if it might hold all the answers. “I didn’t want you to worry yourself with it.” He looked up, swallowing a lump in his throat as he saw a single tear slide down Edward’s cheek.
“Thanks,” Ed murmured, then went back to eating.
“The military is sending over a psychiatrist first thing in the morning.” While he hated to bring it up, it was better to tell him beforehand and let him get the tantrum out of his system before the psychiatrist got here.
Sure enough, Edward threw his fork down and jumped to his feet. “I don’t need a damn psychiatrist!” he yelled, slamming his automail fist into the table. Wood cracked, and Roy wondered if he ought to invest in metal furniture. “I’m fine. It was an accident, okay?”
“You nearly died from that ‘accident’, Edward,” Roy reminded him calmly. “And those scars say this has been going on for some time. Obviously you’re not fine.”
Ed kicked the chair behind him, sending it skittering across the floor. It fell over with a loud thunk. “It was an ACCIDENT!” he shouted, tears welling up in his eyes. “I’m not going to talk to some damn quack who thinks he knows more about me than I do!”
“We can either do this here or you can go back to the hospital, Ed,” Roy said, an edge in his voice. “Either way, you’re going to see a doctor about this.”
Ed shot him a look of pure hatred, then stormed out of the room, nearly knocking Al over in the process. Al tried to stop Ed as he went by, but the older brother just shrugged the younger one off and ran up the stairs.
Roy downed the rest of his glass as he heard the bedroom door slam shut.
Ed fell across the bed furthest away from the door, hissing when he landed on his arm. He rolled onto his side, rubbing at his eyes carefully. “I’m not crying,” he said aloud, as if someone was watching. “Just mad.”
“Brother?” Al said from the other side of the door. “Are you okay?”
Okay. He was getting incredibly sick of people asking if he was ‘okay’. “Yah, I’m just going to go to sleep Al.”
He heard Al sigh and had to clench his jaw to keep from just yelling. “Okay, sleep well . . .”
I just want to be alone. He pulled off his clothes, hampered only slightly by being one armed. With all the times his automail had been damaged in the past few years he’d gotten used to doing things like that. It felt odd for it to be reversed though. As he slid under the covers he heard Al’s soft voice and Roy’s answering murmur. Were they talking about him?
He closed his eyes and tried to fall asleep.
---
“Why won’t you admit you need help, Edward?”
“Why won’t you shut the fuck up?”
“If you won’t admit that you were doing something wrong, Edward, we can’t make any progress here.”
“Shove it up your ass.”
Roy sneaked a peek in the study where the military psychiatrist was talking to Edward. Doctor Young was a good man. He had spoken to him once, after Ishbar. The man honestly cared for the patients he had. It spoke volumes about his character that Young hadn’t snapped and knocked the shit out of Fullmetal.
For the past half hour, Young had coaxed, cajoled, and basically pleaded Edward to talk about what he had done, why he had done it, what was going through his head right now.
Edward wasn’t having any of it.
He knew he shouldn’t, but Roy was glad that Fullmetal’s ire was directed at someone else for the moment.
“Edward, you know that I’m the only one keeping you out of that hospital right now.”
He didn’t have anything to say in response to that. Ed was curled up on the couch across from the doctor, legs tucked up under his chin and his automail arm wrapped around them. He hadn’t so much as looked at the doctor since he’d walked into the room.
Young sighed, running his fingers through his graying hair. “Why don’t you tell me about your automail?” he asked, changing tactics.
Ed raised one shoulder in a shrug. “I did something I shouldn’t have, and this is the price I paid,” he said coldly. “It’s not like it’s a big deal.”
“Did it hurt much?”
He made a rather unflattering noise. “Fuck yah it hurt. They have to attach each nerve to the port. It hurts like hell whenever I have to put it back on. Like when those morons at the hospital took it off.”
Roy shook his head, amazed, as Edward told Young in graphic detail about the surgery to put the automail ports in. He doubted he’d ever be able to get Ed to open up to him like that.
Roy shrugged into his coat at the door, glancing back towards Al. The younger Elric was engrossed in a book from his library. “I’ll be at Headquarters if you need me,” he said awkwardly. “Ask Ed to call me after Doctor Young leaves.”
Al didn’t even raise his head, just mmed an affirmative. Roy smirked and let himself out quietly.
About an hour after he arrived at his office, the phone rang. He didn’t realize he had been waiting for it until he jumped and nearly snatched the receiver halfway through the first ring.
Everything is fine, he told himself. But he couldn’t forget the last time he had answered that phone. “Colonel Mustang.”
“Uhm, hey Colonel,” Ed’s voice came over the phone. “Al told me you needed to speak with me.”
Roy laughed slightly. “I just wanted to make sure Doctor Young hadn’t throttled you,” he said, skimming his eyes over an expense report. “Did everything go okay?”
There was a long pause on the other end. “Yah, sure,” Ed replied, his voice tight. “When are you going to be leaving the office? Al wants to know when to start dinner.”
Roy glanced at the teetering pile of paperwork, then craned his neck to look out the doorway. Hawkeye was at her desk, the gun at her side painfully obvious. “Uhm, possibly 5:30.”
“See you then.” The phone clicked, and Roy sighed. He went back to his paperwork.
Ed was quiet while they ate supper. Roy watched him out of the corner of his eye. The boy was mostly just pushing his vegetables around the plate with his fork.
“So when am I cleared to get back to work?” Fullmetal asked abruptly.
Roy glanced up over the edge of his glass. “That depends entirely on your progress with Doctor Young, Ed.”
Ed scowled at him, but didn’t say anything. He returned his attention to the vegetables in front of him. A carrot was slowly being smashed into a paste.
“So you never really said how things went with Doctor Young,” Roy said after a moment.
The fork screeched across the plate, setting his teeth on edge. “It was fine.”
Roy stared at his glass. It was almost empty. “What did you talk about with him?”
Ed shoved himself to his feet, his face pale. “I’m going upstairs,” he said through clenched teeth.
Damnit, Roy thought. “Ed, calm down and finish your dinner,” he said. “There’s no need to..”
“Just shut up,” Ed screamed. “Just SHUT THE FUCK UP.” He stood there, his automail fist clenched at his side. “We’ve been here for TWO FUCKING DAYS. That doesn’t give you any right to pry into my life!”
Roy blinked, setting his glass down. “Edward, I’m just worried about you.”
“DON’T!” Ed glared at him. “I don’t need your damn concern! I’ve made it this far without any help!”
“And look where you are now,” Roy said, trying very hard not to raise his voice.
Ed blanched, taking a step back. “It’s none of your damn business,” he hissed. “You’re my commanding officer, not my fucking father, so stop pretending like you are.”
“I have a responsibility to you!” Roy counted, his voice cracking. “I’m not going to stand here and watch you destroy yourself!” He waved a hand at Alphonse who was huddled miserably in his chair. “If you’re incapable of thinking about yourself, why don’t you think about your brother?”
Edward grabbed his plate and heaved it at Mustang. “Don’t you throw shit in my face you bastard!” he raged.
The plate smashed against the wall to the left of Roy. Alphonse winced and let out a whimper. “Brother, please stop,” Al whispered. “He just wants to help. He cares.”
Ed’s anger faltered, and he stared at his brother. “Al...” he said, his fist unclenching. “I’m sorry…”
Roy stepped around the table. “He’s right Edward,” he said softly. “I only want to help you.” He laid his hand gently on the young alchemist’s shoulder.
“Don’t touch me!” Ed jerked away violently, his anger returning immediately. “I don’t need your fucking help!”
“You could have fooled me,” Roy responded dryly, an automatic flippant response that he regretted immediately. Ed’s automail fist connected squarely with his gut.
“I HATE YOU you smart ass fucking BASTARD!” Ed screamed as Roy doubled up. “You know nothing about me. NOTHING!” He turned and fled the room.
“Brother!” Alphonse called, jumping to his feet and rushing after Ed.
Automail hurts, Roy thought as he fell into the chair beside him. That didn’t go the way he’d planned. He was contemplating whether another drink would numb the pain in his stomach when he heard a startled yelp. There was a loud thump, then Al shrieked.
He was in the living room in an instant, running to where Alphonse was kneeling next to Edward at the foot of the stairs.
“He fell! He fell!” Alphonse babbled, hovering over his brother.
“Ed,” Roy said, dropping down to his knees, “you still there?”
“Mgh,” was the response he got, and Edward opened his eyes slowly. “That hurt…”
“Well, if you took the steps like a normal human and not three at a time these things wouldn’t happen,” Roy said, feeling Edward’s head carefully. “Doesn’t feel like your skull if cracked. That hard head of yours came in handy.”
Ed growled, trying to move away. “Stop poking, head hurts,” he muttered, raising his right arm to push his hair away from his eyes. “Lot hurts.”
“Can you move everything?” Roy tried to get a good luck at Edward’s eyes. The boy probably had a concussion from that fall.
“Don’t think anything’s broken,” Ed groaned. “Just need some aspirin…” He levered himself up with his automail arm.
“No wait,” Roy began, too late. A moment later Ed was laying on his back again, looking very embarrassed, and Roy was staring blankly at the mess on his boots.
“Back to the hospital,” he said firmly, overriding Edward’s mumbled protests. “Don’t argue, Ed. You’ve got a concussion.” He looked at Alphonse, who was staring in mute horror. “Go call headquarters and have a car sent around Alphonse.”
“Yes sir!” It was disconcerting for a suit of armor to squeak like that.
“Colonel?” Ed mumbled. “I feel really sleepy.”
“You can sleep later, Ed,” Roy said, kicking his boots off. That was going to be fun to clean up later. “You can’t sleep with a concussion.”
Ed grunted, then sighed and stared the ceiling. “I feel really stupid right now.”
“It’s alright.”
Roy carried Edward to the car when it pulled up. He hadn’t even allowed him to try to stand this time, just scooped him up and headed out the door.
Ed didn’t argue, nor did he struggle thankfully. Roy hadn’t expected him to be so heavy, even with the automail.
Havoc flashed a worried glance back at Edward and Roy before he pulled away from the house. “Colonel, you realize you’re not wearing shoes, right?”
“I’m aware of that,” Roy replied, helping Ed arrange himself with his head pillowed on a coat. Ed groaned, curling himself into a ball of misery on the seat.
“You doing okay back there boss?” Havoc asked, his voice a little anxious.
“I’ll try not to puke in the car, Havoc,” Ed said weakly.
Roy leaned over and frowned. Definitely a concussion. The kid’s eyes were unfocused. And he looked a little green. “Pull over,” he said urgently, waving his hand at Havoc.
“Sorry,” Ed said a moment later in a very small voice.
Three hours later, Havoc unlocked the door. Roy stepped inside, cradling Ed’s sleeping form in his arms. “Thank you again Jean,” he said quietly, trying not to disturb his burden. Ed’s head was cushioned against his shoulder, automail arm thrown limply around his neck.
“Not a problem Colonel,” Havoc replied, popping off a salute. “Tell Ed I said to watch those stairs in the future, they’re a killer.”
Roy smirked as he nudged the door shut behind him. Alphonse was sitting at the bottom of the steps, waiting for them.
“I cleaned up while you were gone,” he said softly when he saw his brother was sleeping. “Is he okay?”
“He’ll be fine, Alphonse,” Roy said with a reassuring smile. He started up the stairs slowly. “They gave him a shot for the nausea and it knocked him right out is all.”
Al followed him to the bedroom and watched as Roy carefully laid Edward down and pulled the sheets over him. “He didn’t mean what he said, sir,” Al said quietly.
“I know Alphonse” He made sure the sheets were tucked in snuggly, then sat back and rubbed his forehead.
“I’ll go get a glass of water for him for if he wakes up.” Al disappeared out the door, and Roy heard the soft blanks of the boy trying to walk quietly.
“Colonel?”
He turned back to the bed, seeing Ed’s eyes opened slightly. “Just sleep Ed,” he said, patting the boy’s shoulder. “That’s the best thing for you right now.”
“You stayed with me, right?” Ed mumbled, eyes closing again.
“Of course.”
“Thank you,” Ed said simply, dozing off again. “Sorry I called you a bastard.”
A small smile stole across Roy’s face as he watched Edward fall back to sleep. That was a start at least.