Sooooo eheheh... I'm back? ACK I've figured out what happens when you have too many fandoms- you start about sixty oneshots for each and never finish anything. But the holidays (which were way too busy to be holidays) are over and school's actually becoming manageable so I'm hopefully going to get a balanced writing schedule going again - I have other fics I'm working on (which I'm updating soon I swear) so this one will probably still be rather slow on updating but the point is that it will actually be updating! Yay! (I'm so sorry I'll get things up faster I promise).

Also, this one took an angsty turn, and has a tiny bit of headcannoning thrown in there. And it actually has something to do with the title.

One and the Same

Given the overall circumstances, you really would have thought someone would have installed a better fire prevention system in Eastern Command. Sprinklers, maybe? Build a closer fire station? Or at least have less flammable items in the buildings.

At least it's not his fault this time, Roy thinks, somewhat in shock as he watches the left half of Eastern Command turn into a raging inferno.

"Damn," Breda whistles from besides him, staring as their offices burn.

"This sucks," Fury says faintly. Roy suppresses a snort. They're probably somewhat happy about this – Falman's "Sorry, sir, we couldn't save those reports we were filing" was far too smug.

"It's certainly going to cause a stir for Health and Safety," Riza mutters from beside him as the fire trucks fly past, sirens screaming.

Roy groans, already picturing the stacks of paperwork he's going to need done for this. He watches the firemen surveying the flames, yelling at the few individuals still fleeing the building to get back. He doesn't envy them this job.

"We're going to need a new office, at any rate," he sighs. "Of course the fire couldn't start on the right half, no, it just had to take our side-"

"COLONEL!"

Roy starts at the desperate cry. Alphonse is rushing towards him, armor clanking and distressed. Too distressed.

"It's Ed," he gasps. "Ed's still - Ed's still in there!"

Roy's heart stops.

Ed.

It restarts.

He reaches into his pockets, feeling his gloves, and meets Riza's gaze. Her eyes widen, and he can see the insistent don't begin to form on her lips.

He shoots her a brief look of apology.

And then he's moving, before anyone has the chance to react, boots pounding on the asphalt as he runs towards the building. The fireman closest to him yells, and he can hear Riza's panicked yell from behind him, hands reaching at his back - and then he's enveloped by smoke, thick and acrid and hot.

"Fullmetal!" he screams, coughing into his arm as he stumbles into the first floor, the hall almost entirely hidden by the thick smoke.

"Ed!"

He's nowhere to be seen, damn it, where is that brat, where is he, where is Ed where would he go - third floor, the third floor, his office, his desk and Ed's notes – and he's running towards the stairwell in seconds, stripping off his military coat as the temperature grows hotter. He halts briefly midway up the stairs, the stairwell cast in a red glow.

He can see the flames up ahead of him, daunting and deadly.

But he is deadly, too, he knows fire – he can get Ed and get out of this. He's sure of it, he thinks to himself, tugging on his ignition gloves. If the fire were any less violent, he would try to calm it, force it down, but it's reached a point too far for him to even hope to control now.

So in and out with extreme speed it is.

Hungry, hungry, the flames scream at him as he throws himself up the stairs, bearing heavily left to avoid falling debris. He reaches the top and turns sharply, mounting the second flight of stairs to the third level. He reaches the top and staggers back, throwing a defensive arm over his face at the blast of heat.

The floor is almost entirely consumed by fire. Ed is nowhere to be seen. Roy swears.

He's not dead. He can't be. The fire won't have killed him yet, he's too smart for that – Roy can still get him out. He may not be able to give him back his brother's body, or protect him from the world he's thrown him into, but he can still save the boy he's dragged into the military from a fiery death.

But the flames themselves are not death, he thinks, as he sprints down the hall, watching the wood of a desk snapping and sparking to flame. That's the tricky thing about fire – it sees the life in things, hungers to bring that life to light. It longs to bring bright, bursting color to the cold, motionless wood.

The beauty fades, of course, when you realize the flame is only consuming to sustain its own life.

If he is like the flame, as they say, he wonders what this says about him.

His thoughts dissolve in a burst of panic as half the ceiling comes down on him, chunks of flaming plaster and stone striking him and leaving what are sure to be impressive bruises. Roy chokes on the smoke, eyes stinging as he fights against the hopelessness threatening to overwhelm him.

He's so close, the office is right down the hall – or what used to be the hall, the walls are nothing but sheets of flame, now, the fire snapping and cracking, laughing at him as he struggles forward, and he remembers-

Snap.

-the fireplace in the evening, his mother's mother voice and the flash of alchemy-

Snap.

-the house on fire, his parents on fire, home in ashes-

Snap.

-long days in dusty studies, delight on Riza's face as the colors play across it-

Snap.

-delight turned to horror, hundreds of burnt corpses dead by his hand-

Snap.

-burning, burning, always burning and taking from him-

Snap – Snap.

He meets the fire with his own, pushing forward. He is like the flame, he can take as well.

And he is taking Ed.

He bursts into his office, coughing and gasping as he scans the room desperately, looking for a flash of gold on red – there.

"Fullmetal! Ed!"

Ed is slumped against the window, unmoving. Roy is at his side in an instant, fingers flying to the boy's neck as he takes in the bloody gash on his head, likely from the collapsing ceiling.

"C'mon, c'mon, Ed, please-"

There's a pulse beneath Roy's fingers, faint but clearly there, and Roy nearly breaks down in relief. He pulls Ed up, throwing him over his shoulders and staggering at the weight. He regains his footing quickly and moves forward, back into the hall.

A hall that has become a complete inferno in his absence. Roy feels his heart drop.

He spins desperately, eyes flicking wildly as he looks for an opening, anything, any space devoid of flames - nothing. There's nothing but roaring fire, ahead and behind.

Ed is a dead weight in his arms, his eyes are stinging and blurring, and if he stands still any longer the metaphorical burning in his lungs will be decidedly less metaphorical. They need to get out now, but there's no way, no opening, unless-

He tightens a fist, the ignition cloth firm beneath his hand. He knows fire. He is like the flame – burning with ambition and destroying, they are one and the same.

He takes a breath, gripping Ed closer.

And then he disregards everything Riza's ever told him not to do and runs.

To anyone else, running head first into a fire is probably rather terrifying. To Roy, it's morbidly invigorating. It's hot, painfully so, and breathing is almost completely out of the question, but it's also bright, brilliant shades of orange and gold swirling around him, licking at his skin as the flames roar in his ears. He clutches Ed close as he sprints, reaching out with all of his being to the burning elements that are at its core, and he coaxes, wills it back, away from Ed and away from him. It's an alchemy he knows better than his own skin, the understanding he has with the flames. They will not take his life, not today – someday, perhaps, but not now - and he feels them sliding past, kissing his skin with their heat but letting him out of their grasp.

Down the stairs, down more stairs, dodge the falling debris, move with the flames instead of against them - Ed is growing heavier and his chest is exploding in pain, but through his blurred vision he can see the gap of light through the door, ten feet away, five feet away, two more steps-

Roy bursts out of the building seconds before the first floor collapses, stumbling gracelessly to the ground as he and Ed roll uncontrollably away from the fire.

He lies here, staring sightlessly at the sky, and he can faintly hear panicked yelling through the pathetically awful wheezing sound someone's making.

It takes him a minute to realize it's him.

"Sir!"

The sky is blue, blue and flameless, and it's a very beautiful sight, actually-

"Colonel!"

Blue and cool, cold like ice, and snow, and other cold things he really, really wants right now-

"Roy!"

It's Riza's use of his name that finally pulls him out of his stupor, and he blinks in confusion at her worried face.

"Oh," he says, attempting a grin. "Hi. Sorry."

Riza looks as if she's about to smack him, but whatever she's planning on doing to his face is interrupted as he dissolves into harsh coughing.

"Fullmetal?" he manages to croak out between gasps as Riza eases him up.

"Safe," she says, a hint of a smile on her face. She nods to her left, and Roy turns to see Alphonse worriedly yelling at the now-conscious blond as a medic tries to restrain him.

Roy smirks. His insides are practically melting in relief.

He expresses this relief in the best way possible.

"Get yourself a little cooked, shrimp?"

The glare Ed sends him is almost as heated as the flames they just got out of. Almost.

"You absolute – bastard," Ed gasps out between coughs as the medic frantically yells at him to stop talking. "I oughtta – throw you back in there."

"Aw, and after I – damn smoke – dove into such peril to save you?"Roy shoots back as another medic approaches him. "So ungrateful."

Ed spits out an angry response somewhere between fighting the medic shoving him on a stretcher, but the expression on his face is clear.

Thanks.

Roy nods at him.

Of course.

He'd rush into that building again in a heartbeat, he thinks, to save Ed – not that he'd ever say so. Riza squeezes his hand briefly as she stands, leaving him with the medic as she mutters something about the press. Roy leans back as the medic examines him, praying he won't end up at the hospital (it's probably a vain hope).

Behind him, the building is still burning, but the flames are lessening as the firemen do their job. He stares at them, thinking back to flame-filled halls.

All flames, regardless of how powerful, go out eventually. The hungrier they get, the faster the burn out.

It's something to remember, he thinks.

He closes his eyes, conscious of the gloves still on his hands. It's a nice feeling, getting to use them for something other than killing. To use them to save life instead of take it.

Someday, he thinks, glancing back at the dying flames. Someday.