They were good boys, and smart, and she trusted them to stay mostly out of trouble. Mostly.
Even Hawkeye could be caught off guard, and the men moving in too late, even five seconds too long, too far away.
He's seen quite enough of the military hospital in Central, and much as he likes the nurses, he was still glad when he thought they were through with it.
Like the touch of Izumi-mommy's hand in mine, like her voice in my ears.
Alphonse worried, but was rapidly won over by his brother's promises.
She'd barely managed not to wail But it's Yoletide! and prove herself both spoiled brat and country bumpkin.
And there was a certain look they shared, the one they both used when they thought Ed was being unreasonably stubborn.
Are you listening to me, Lieutenant Hawkeye?
"Well... Brother does that, every so often. He really should think before he tries to attack people."
Ed liked him this way -- so why did it make him so furious to have to deal with Al caring one way or another about him?
"I'm not your brother," he told the sleeping figure; it rang hollow.
Brother wasn't the only one hiding his fears; I was so afraid everything I knew was a lie -- that our brotherhood was a lie.
A man can do terrible things in the name of his uniform--his leader, his service, his country. Then he spends the rest of his life going crazy or chasing penance.
"...That is an order, Fullmetal, and I will have you court-martialed if you refuse."
Besides, no one ever said that tumultuous times had to begin with a fanfare.
Occasionally, after a bad sand storm, a bone would work its way up to the surface; bare and bleached, like the sticks he used to pretend were swords.
It was only after the sheer sensation had abated — only when he felt on solid enough ground to focus on the subtleties of life once more — that the habit began to catch his attention.
For instance, Havoc knew that Hawkeye was not fond of gunmanship.
"Well, I guess she can't keep him away from every bitch in heat around this place."
He remembered finding himself asking why the Fullmetal Alchemist would be the one to patch his own clothes.
Here was the corner where she retreated, reloading her gun as she prepared for another kill.
For in equivalent trade, everything has value and therefore everything can be taken away.
Winly was touched, really, that even after two years without seeing one another, Ed still wrote her letters.
"Bill for repair of said hotel after occupants of said room 'incited riot'?"
This is the smell of ozone from a lightning strike. This is fear.
Al should've never told his mother the box was a present for Winry.
What things Envy learns of his master's nature, of his future and his past alike, are those things which he has divined on his own, and nothing more.
Thank you for your resumes, gentlemen.
“Brother, don’t be ungrateful! Ling is trying very hard to teach you proper use of the Xingian language!”
...Edward saw red - but he took a couple of deep breaths before answering. He knew a real kicker now, thanks to Hawkeye.
These days, he loves the movies.
According to Hughes, Major Mustang was close to promotion and as his subordinate, it was her prerogative to try and help him to reach the next rung of the ladder.
“Um, you must’ve learned that from Colonel Bastard. You’d better not be flashing that at the nurses. Or at me, ever, ever again.”
Al's slightly hollow voice positively echoed with embarrassment but he bravely soldiered on...
"You. Boy by the window who's been doodling all the way through. What would be the result of this equation?"
Words entrance her: the workaday prose of school texts as much as the skylark flights of lyric or the measured music of story.
I didn't know on the phone. I didn't know on the train.
And of course, he does not believe in God anyway, and scorns the idea of predestination.
"We offer you not a world in which your brother died, but one in which he never lived."
Roy was silent when Maes came back several minutes later. If he heard the sounds of retching from the bathroom, he didn't say.
"I must savor every moment of every love letter I recieve to do the sender justice," Mustang said, before proceeding to open the letter.
"We'll have you patched up in no time." Edward announced, slicing the leather into short, precise strips. It was irrational, but somehow Alphonse hated those words.
He grabbed the nearest inmate by the front of his shirt and hauled him up. "Where is he!?" he roared.
“The General,” I answer. “He resigned his rank and got a transfer. They sent him up North. He’s alone there. I couldn’t talk him out of it.”
You're the only person on earth who will ever be able to read this message.
And if he did forget mom's face, what would be next? Her voice? Her smile? The color of her eyes?
Breathing. Fuck, he did it every day of his life, why was it so hard all of a sudden?