This really was turning out to be a day of surprises, thought Roy.
The idiot prince still couldn't be bothered to figure out the different notes and coins, probably because he'd never actually paid for anything in his life.
It took you long enough to make your call. I was beginning to think you'd forgotten how to work a phone.
It was a big world out there, full of more possibilities than either of them could dream of.
Because he had said one year; and dammit, he meant it.
The advantage to being so distinctive-looking was that sometimes Edward didn't have to look for people; they found him first.
Ed remembered that Al's first word was 'Mama', and his second one was 'Niichan'.
Ah. Fans. He preens slightly into his coat, sits up just a little taller on his haunches. Fans he knows how to deal with.
At night, curled shivering on the layers of musty damp leaves under the glimmering stars, Ed lay silently and thought of unspeakable unknowns...
Okay, his hair wasn't brushed, and it had been a while since he'd gotten a bath, but he didn't think it was anything to blush at.
And of course, he does not believe in God anyway, and scorns the idea of predestination.
Hadn't he survived a month on a deserted island when he was ten, equipped only with a little knife and one pair of shorts? He was tough. He was rugged. He could fall asleep anywhere. He could totally do this.
The staff look at each other, look at their automail bottle-opener, and prepare to duck.
Alphonse had thought that he must have the bravest brother in the world.
One day Edward was out kicking the crap out of those damn Homunculus with Al...
Ling was an expert at this shit, he really was: making Ed feel too bad to say no to him, throwing out weird, cheeseball compliments that made his cheeks fire and froze his brain before he could brush them off
And while he didn't know the Niisan that had been to hell and back again with a grin on his face, he knew his Niisan, and he knew that prison was not at all where he belonged.
But they were no longer young, and they no longer lived together, and Al wouldn't embarrass his brother in front of their hosts by trying to take care of him.
“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.”
The feel of hands on his shoulders woke him, one metal and one flesh, and it was the chill in human fingers that told him how cold the night had grown while he slept.
For now, he has mastered one world, two worlds; they have mastered him as well, and he is tired.
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.
They shared the same eyes, the same hair, and a level of intelligence ... and sometimes, Ed felt far too much like he was his father's son.
"You're late," Ed tells him flatly. "You should have been here one minute and forty four seconds ago."
There was one thing that Edward had missed above all others.
It was so terribly painful, really, the way he would smile when he was about to cry.
ROY: [calmly] If drinking means acting like an idiot the way you are, I'm going to pass.
It would be a shame if the future Fuhrer got himself killed over something as trivial as a chess game.
Alfons Heiderich, this universe's most cruel mistake, came round from the other side of the crumbling brick wall, and Ed found himself again wondering if the man existed solely for his personal torment.
Fullmetal smiled a long, slow smile, the sort that promised evil things were in the near future, and put his boots up on Roy's desk.
And after all, no amount of rain can wash the blood away.
Brother likes to pretend that he doesn't care what goes on in the military unless it directly affects him. Or, you know, directly offends him. One or the other.
Ed did not want to die without seeing Alphonse again.
When the lines didn't matter, when the lungs weren't working in labor of sweet industry worlds, then it was so easy to see where they might be all born of the same blood.
He didn't play anymore, not with reports to file, books to read, notes to scratch out.
If she cries, he may have to kill her. He can't stand that sound any longer.
Neither brother seems willing to speak, but their thoughts dip down into similar wells, dredging up the questions that most haunt them.
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.
Ed began to understand why some people talked to themselves.
"So, we're one gunshot from a civil war. If someone from Hakuro's faction fired that shot, for whatever reason ..."
rated:K-L-V | M+F S+S | Mangaverse | post-series | SP: ch 1-108 | DF: ch 105 | Alphonse Elric | Edward Elric | Roy Mustang | mystery | 354th FG HQ | UST | 2010 Best New Voices, Neophyte | Havoc/Rebecca
It was getting kind of depressing, though, by the time the color red alone would make him wonder about the child; the flash of a cardinal, a sprig of bright berries, the gaudiness of nighttime tavern lights, and the scarlet lipstick of bar women.
"I want to bring father back for her," Al had whispered the week before Christmas fell.
The only problem was that Ed didn't know what the heck "getting some" was or what he was being congratulated for.
"You. Boy by the window who's been doodling all the way through. What would be the result of this equation?"
Yes, something was amiss, and Roy Mustang was going to find out what.
It was kind of ironic, and kind of inconvenient, that Rush Valley, the capital city of automail, was also hot as hell for half the year.
It hurt, somehow, to know that there was no one now who could see past the mask if he didn't want them to.
It was a lousy day, depressing and the color of the sky on his way home reminded Ed of the color of the Gate and he just felt helpless and sorry and lonely and bad.
But he glanced behind himself for Winly, and it was a terrible, bittersweet thing.
Stay observant! Amestris needs you!