A retelling of a specific in-series incident.
Sometimes, he prays that the hand will come down and Ed will tell him gently they are done, they are going to quit, end the nightmare before it worsens.
His desire for everything and everyone meant subversively that anything the alchemist blew to high hell was his: possession by association.
I didn't know on the phone. I didn't know on the train.
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.
Are you listening to me, Lieutenant Hawkeye?
Fear kept Al's metal arms at his sides, shaking slightly with each of Edward's pained moans.
For in equivalent trade, everything has value and therefore everything can be taken away.
Winry could not imagine going so far for someone whose name you couldn't even say. She couldn't imagine going so far without allowing yourself to say his name.
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 really don't like this body, he thought sadly; if he'd had a face to pout with, he would have.
You'd have to be inhuman not to quake in fear when she stares you down.
"For only one arm..." Ed rasped out, gritting his teeth against the pain.
"I am not obsessed with Edward Elric!"
It's not the same at all when the patient choking back cries of pain and thrashing against the straps is her friend and playmate and brother.
They would bow, they would drop into a fighting stand and extend their swords, there would be the shout of en garde. And then she would take him down.
Only some things, he knew, could be repaired. Not every broken sword could be re-forged.
After all, one didn't have a high ranking officer fall into one's lap every day, and Greed was not one to squander someone with that much potential.
And after all, no amount of rain can wash the blood away.
Gentle and wise and intelligent and kind... and so unlike anyone she'd ever known in Xing...
It was such a beautiful way to die.
Winry muttered something Scieszka couldn't quite catch, brow furrowed as she leaned in to adjust something on the switchboard.
"Did God," Scar asked softly, "mean for us to die?"