It wasn't enough just to know what chemical components went into a human body, not if the structural knowledge was completely lacking.
Years later when they shipped him off on a belated honeymoon, Roy went without audible protest.
There was a terrible vulnerability to Roy when his cover slipped, and it made Ed uncomfortable.
Roy wondered how far Alphonse would go to prove his point.
"You'll be up against the wall before you know it, Mustang, right where you belong, eating the bullets of a firing squad for breakfast."
Nurses in white smocks bustle about a tiny nurses's station, and he is intercepted by one of the younger ones, a new girl he doesn't recognize.
"I won't be an example!" He could still hear her voice wailing in his ear. "I'll choose how I die."
It is a photograph that brings them together, and that's as it should be.
"I know how things work, sir," the boy continued, laying the watch across his lap.
"She loved him," Ed said. Crack, snap. Another flower joined the pile.
He's a pessimist with an ego seven miles long; he's a scientist, too, doesn't approve of Al's books.
She feels like an intruder, eyes watching her from empty rooms, and every stair is a memory she dares not to disturb.
Winly was touched, really, that even after two years without seeing one another, Ed still wrote her letters.
But we the people of Ishvar endure, by the grace and mercy of Ishvarra we endure, and so long as we live we will remember.
"Elric, you're excused from labor today. I hear you've got mechanical problems."
But he glanced behind himself for Winly, and it was a terrible, bittersweet thing.
This new life was staggering - more so, the feel of Alphonse's shoulder, warm and flesh beneath his cheek as the train lurched out of the station.
His first thought was that there was something fundamentally and frighteningly wrong with him.
"You're late," Ed tells him flatly. "You should have been here one minute and forty four seconds ago."
Roy was far from at ease and he could not sleep, and so, instead, he watched Edward, feeling anxiety and guilt sink claws into his belly and tear into his mind.
"If I do not, I might begin to love you, whom I should hate."
But he kept going back. She knew, and confronted him at one time.
She clung to him so tightly that his skin was white under her fingertips.
He wanted Hughes to know how many lines he had crossed in his lifetime.
God, he's gorgeous, even cut up. Especially cut up.
"Aww, is the rough and tough Elric crying for his dead brother?" sneered a voice in his ringing ears.
It was so, so much easier just to go hungry than to try their hands at something she'd done so well.
Before this war, he'd never wiped human blood off his automail.
Could I burn like that - would the lick of flames on my skin wipe me clean?
You're the only person on earth who will ever be able to read this message.
The color red was a distraction. The color red was him. Him--Mustang's own constant distraction, the waving red banner amidst the dull color that painted his everyday life.
There would always be this silence in the air, stifling, thick, foggy and almost opaque, and I would watch from the mouth of the hallway, hands in front of me, our kitten, Unsere, threading through my legs.
It was not fair to the boy to get tripped up by what he looked like, especially not when he had avoided it for so many years already.
I didn't know on the phone. I didn't know on the train.
The Fuhrer always used that word. Ripe. Like fruit to be devoured .
Al loved the way his brother's face turned inward, his golden eyes unfocusing and a little smile coming to his face...
I really don't like this body, he thought sadly; if he'd had a face to pout with, he would have.
To her, the Philosopher's Stone is blood and fire: his fire, her blood.
This is far more effective, Roy thinks grimly, than any threat of physical violence against his own self.
It does not occur to him until later — years later — that this might be considered a case of sexual abuse.
"I have to spend a year at Northern Command, and you can't come with me."
All the alchemical skill in the world didn't matter, he was learning, when it came to something like this.
They kissed only once. She tasted like ashes and brine.
Hope — he could almost reach out and touch that hope, hours away, maybe, just a few ticks of the clock and an array or two later and it could be real.
Sick, both of them, sick and inhuman, the sigils of the devil's research pressed against each other's skin.
An alchemical reaction of the most ancient kind: sitting down to eat as though filling the stomach could replace the gap in one's heart.
Al thought, grimly, that he was getting rather good at this.
The blond shook his head lightly, probably in amusement, "I'm really sorry but he's normally not like this to strangers but your resemblance? is very striking, Roy."