Fullmetal Alchemist characters, settings, and ideas belong not to me but to Arakawa Hiromu.
Miniature Adults
By Taliya
Part I: Edward Elric
Early Spring of 1911
Roy Mustang groaned as he stretched, the popping in his back barely audible over the steady drum of the early spring rains on the windowpanes. He had been sitting at his desk for nearly the entirety of the afternoon, and had made a decent amount of headway in the paperwork on his desk. Deciding that he deserved a quick break, he stood and swept out of his office, passing his half-working, half-joshing officers and Riza Hawkeye's sharp eyes. They were officially off in thirty minutes anyway. He idly wondered where his youngest subordinate was before dismissing it from his mind. Most likely he was en route to East City from his latest mission, no death and plenty of destruction in his wake. If the colonel were to guess based on the military grapevine, the barely thirteen-year-old menace and his younger brother would arrive in the city the day after tomorrow, having allotted them time to follow a lead in their quest to regain their proper bodies.
Hands in his pockets, he allowed his mind to wander as he took the stairs to the roof. It was the one place on the grounds that he escaped to when he needed to think or relax. His boots thumped quietly against the tile as he approached the last landing. If it happened to be raining when he took his break, there was a small overhang above the doorway that would provide him enough cover to remain dry. Roy knew that other personnel used the roof as their temporary sanctuary as well, but he suspected that with the downpour he would have no company this rainy evening. Springs in East City were cold with the temperatures generally not warming up until close to mid-year, and even then it was for only a few months.
When he had broached the idea of joining the ranks of State Alchemists to a practically catatonic and crippled eleven-year-old Edward Elric and his armor-suited younger brother Alphonse, he had no idea that just one year later said older brother would appear at his metaphorical doorstep, breezing through the State Alchemy Examination with a score that even he admitted would have taken him years of study to match, let alone top. He had been extremely proud, both with himself and the boy. Proud that he now had an exceptionally talented, record-setting Alchemist under his command—which could only boost his chances of a promotion having been the officer who "discovered" him. Proud of his newly minted Fullmetal Alchemist subordinate for his resilience, determination, brilliance, and dedication to his goals and his younger brother—despite the setbacks of the excruciating addition of two automail limbs.
The half-year with the Fullmetal Alchemist under his command had softened him towards the pair of boys, though outwardly he would not, could not show. The elder Elric would instantly consider it a personal affront, that Roy did not take him seriously, and the younger Elric… well, he was not quite sure where he stood with the towering suit of armor that housed one of the kindest souls he had had the pleasure to meet. The boys were so terribly protective of one another that it was adorable, in its own way. They had suffered through so much from such young ages, that they had forced themselves to become as fiercely independent as they were. Roy could think of few events that were more gruesome and traumatizing than what that pair experienced.
He paused before the heavy door that separated him from the elements, leaning his forehead on the cold metal. God, he was tired. Life with the Elrics was… interesting, to say the least. Every mission he gave to the youngest State Alchemist returned completed with a lengthy list of damages and usually an extortionate automail repair bill the Amestrian government was required to recompense. And as the Fullmetal Alchemist's commanding officer, it meant just that much more paperwork for him. While Roy knew that Edward and Alphonse were fully capable of taking care of themselves, it did not mean he did not worry about them. Indeed, he worried over the safety of each of his men (and woman) under his lead. Each of his veteran officers recognized his dedication to their health and safety, and in return gave him their unswerving loyalty. The newest additions to his team, both official and unofficial, required a little more supervision and guidance than he was used to, but it was a task he willingly dealt with if it meant his charges were provided for in the best ways he could manage. There was also the additional apprehension of someone discovering the circumstances that lead to the brothers' current state of affairs, which by law was an instant death sentence.
Pushing open the door, he froze as his eyes landed upon the unmistakable crimson, black, and gold color combination that characterized the Fullmetal Alchemist. His subordinate sat with his back against the parapet that ran along the perimeter of the roof, legs tucked to his chest, arms crossed over the knees, and face buried in his arms—the picture of weary defeat. The image seared itself into his mind, feeling instinctively that the muted background colors were too grey, too drab, for the young spitfire that had blown into his life like a tornado. He was completely drenched, having sat out here for who knew how long. With the ambient temperature more than chilly, the young Alchemist had to be freezing sitting there long enough to become thoroughly soaked, and the automail limbs could not possibly help to retain body heat. Best to get the kid back inside and warm and dried off. He speedily decided questions as to why he was already in East City could wait.
Stepping into the rain, Roy bit back a curse as he made his way across the roof, the water driving icy needles into his skin. "Hagaren," he called over the rain. He was sure the boy had heard him, but the boy had yet to twitch a muscle in response. The faintest twinge of worry stirred in his breast. "Hagaren," he repeated with more force, coming to a stop at the youth's feet. The blond lifted his head slightly, eyes barely peering over his arms for a moment before hiding his face once more. Now seriously worried, Roy squatted next to his subordinate and tentatively laid a hand on the red-clad flesh shoulder. He was startled when he felt undeniable tremors that wracked the boy's frame. It was clear he was cold, but was he upset as well?
"Hagare—" Roy stopped, coming up completely blank as to what his subordinate's actual name was. It had been so long since he had called the boy by his actual name that the colonel no longer remembered offhand what it was. He knew Alphonse's—how could he not, with his subordinate shouting the younger brother's name so often? The realization was frankly, embarrassing. To cover up his discomfiture, he bluntly asked, "Are you all right?" He received no response and an increase in the shudders that shook the small frame beneath his hand. At this point Roy was seriously concerned. His name was on the tip of his tongue, and yet he could not for the life of him remember. Letting go of the small shoulder, he twisted and sat down next to the young Alchemist, both to provide any sort of support and solidarity for his charge he could provide, as well as relieve the cramping in his legs from squatting. He swept his waterlogged hair out of his eyes, resting his arms on his bent legs as he began to shiver.
They sat in silence, the rain their only other companion as they shuddered from the cold and damp. "Y-y-you sh-should g-go ins-s-side." The voice was unlike anything he was used to. It was so heavy, so full of remorse and anguish and despondency, when ordinarily it was brash and fiery and passionate, and there was the unmistakable stutter he believed was only partly due to the chill surroundings.
Roy shook his head, feeling like a half-drowned cat. He was more than cold, soaked to the bone, and worried for the youth. "Only if you go too," he barely managed to reply without stutters of his own. The hiss of rain wrapped itself around them once more, choking any and all attempts at conversation. At length the colonel noticed that the youth's shaking had become so pronounced that even in the rapidly dimming evening light he could still see the way his entire body trembled. Reaching his right arm out, he grasped the boy's opposite shoulder—the metal shoulder that was shockingly icy even through the scarlet coat and his glove—and pulled him flush against his side, both to transfer any sort of body heat he possessed as well as to provide the comfort of physical human touch. The blond started violently and was already mid swing before he registered Roy's calm, quiet voice and stopped, automail hand clunking loudly against the concrete flooring of the roof as it dropped to his side and rattled from the violence of his shivering.
"Ed, what's wrong?" The boy's name rolled off his tongue as though he had never forgotten. His concern was unmistakable in his tone, and it startled Roy to hear the sheer amount of pleading desperation laced in his voice. It was obvious Edward heard it too, for he released a more pronounced shudder and a shaky sigh, remaining quiet. "Please, Ed, please tell me." Roy could count on one hand the number of times he had begged for anything, and this added one more finger to the count. But his concern regarding the boy's abject despair overrode any thoughts of keeping his pride intact. Abandoning the ragged shreds of his dignity he pulled Edward into a hug, right arm securely around his shoulders and the other pressing the blond head into the crook of his neck. The soaked strands of hair stuck to his cheek and itched, but Roy was beyond caring. All he knew was that his charge was hurting, and he was frustrated that he had no idea of the cause or how to fix it. "Talk to me, Ed. Please."
The boy curled fingers both flesh and automated into the lapels of his coat with surprising strength borne from desperation, and Roy held him all the more closely for it. With his new proximity to the young Alchemist he picked up on the soft hiccupping sobs masked earlier by the rain that made his heart wrench. He rocked the both of them gently, allowing the boy to cry on his shoulder. When it became clear that Edward was not going to speak, he tried to separate them so that he could stand up, but Edward only gripped his clothing tighter. After a few seconds of gentle but futile attempts to pry his attire free, Roy silently hauled them both to their feet and led the blond to the shelter of the stairwell. They descended in silence, Roy never once releasing the boy's shoulder as they dripped, squeaked, and squelched their way to the dormitories. When Edward realized where his superior was directing him, he stopped, eyes wide as he wrenched himself free from the surprised colonel's grasp.
"Ed—" Roy was wary as he slowly reach a hand out, internally devastated by the fact that he was treating Amestris's most famous Alchemist like a wounded animal. While Edward physically was well, he was most certainly not mentally and emotionally.
"I can't—I can't face him!" Edward whispered fiercely as he backed away, and Roy paused in his careful advancement, allowing him to finish his thought. "I can't face Al just yet…"
Frowning, the colonel considered his charge. Edward was clearly upset and staunchly against going to his rooms to dry off. He himself needed to do the same, lest they both come down with illnesses. "All right, Ed. We won't go to your quarters," he coaxed. "Will my office do for now?" After receiving tentative confirmation from the soaked boy Roy redirected them to his office, where the only one left was his steadfast First Lieutenant. Riza stood and saluted, sending him a distinctly quizzical look at both his and Edward's sopping, bedraggled appearances. "We're fine, Chuui," he said, acknowledging her so that she could drop her right hand from the salute. "Please get the car to drive us to my home, then you are free to go for the evening." She nodded silently, communicating her worry with her eyes as she picked up her trench coat and left the office. After confirming with the younger Elric that no, Edward was not in danger, no, he had not done anything stupid, and yes, he would not be returning for the evening because of a long overdue discussion, the colonel and his subordinate left Central Command. The boy did not complain or object once during the entire phone conversation, seemingly tuned out from the rest of the world.
The ride was quiet save for the steady pounding of the rain on the car's roof. Roy quickly ushered Edward to his doorstep, tossing a grateful nod over his shoulder at the worried Riza. He dug the key to his townhome from a pocket and unlocked the door, allowing it to swing open and steering the young Alchemist inside. "Shoes off, Edward," he directed gently as he toed off his own boots. "Let's get you warm and dry first. Then we'll eat, and after that you and I are going to sit down and have a discussion." The boy blinked hazily at him, his eyes swollen and red-rimmed. Roy steered Edward to the spare bathroom upstairs, pulling out extra towels before stopping by his own bathroom to quickly strip his soaked coat off. He snagged a set of sweats he wore to lounge at home, a pair of socks, and the smallest pair of boxers he owned and set them on the spare bathroom's countertop. "Shower and warm yourself up, Edward, then meet me in the kitchen, all right?"
He then left the boy to his own devices and quickly headed for his own shower. He hung his clothes over the bathtub to drip dry before stepping under the hot spray, hissing at the drastic temperature difference. Eventually he felt he had completely regained sensitivity in all of his extremities after scrubbing himself down and simply soaking in the heat. Now clothed and dry he headed to the kitchen to start dinner, stopping by the living room to light a fire in the fireplace and set the drenched pairs of boots nearby to dry. He began the preparation for a simple meal of dill potatoes, steamed green beans, and pan-fried butterflied pork loin. He poured glasses of water for the two of them, glancing away from the stove when he heard Edward shuffle into the kitchen, damp hair hanging in limp strands about his face. The sweats threatened to swallow him and a jab at the boy's lack of height was at the tip of Roy's tongue, but a look at the still deadened eyes killed any desire to crack jokes. "Would you mind watching the food for a little, Ed? I need to hang your clothing dry. Where is it?" he asked.
"Bunched up in the sink," he murmured in reply as he scooted to the stove and easily took over the pan-frying duties. The pants were too long on him, and with no way to tie the hems Edward was forced to slide his feet across the floor lest he trip on them. At least the socks he had provided would keep his flesh foot protected against the cold kitchen tile.
"Just don't burn my house down," he warned in a lighthearted manner as he hurried to the spare bathroom. Lifting the sopping bundle of clothing from the sink, he shook them out in his bathtub and hung them alongside his own dripping uniform. Task done, he returned to the kitchen to find that Edward had already set the table with cutlery, plates, and dishes in place. The boy himself stood along the bar, uneasily shifting his weight from foot to foot and looking anywhere but at his commanding officer. "Thank you, Ed," Roy said, trying to put his subordinate at ease. "Please sit." They both seated themselves and began to eat, the silence awkward. Edward still appeared miles away, and Roy had no idea how to deal with Edward in this particular state of mind, so the uneasy quiet persisted.
Once they finished, Edward silently helped Roy clear the table. Roy made two mugs of tea, handing one to the younger Alchemist and sending him over to the living room to lounge by the fire as he washed and dried the dishes. He joined Edward in the living room, noticing how Edward had set his mug on the coffee table and had huddled into a corner of the settee, face once again hidden in his arms. "Ed?" he cautiously prodded, setting his mug down as well and sitting next to the boy. He slid a hand onto Edward's back, knowing that as the boy's superior, he was crossing a personal boundary, had already done so on the rooftop. But he had not brought Edward into his home in the capacity of Colonel Mustang but as Roy, a human being sympathizing with the suffering of his fellow man. "Ed," he said, rubbing his hand along the boy's shoulders. "You can trust me. Tell me what's wrong so I can help."
"I don't want or need your help," he muttered without lifting his head, a spark of his fiery personality resurfacing.
"You don't have a choice," Roy retorted with a gentle scoff, secretly relieved to see a bit of that particularly familiar facet of the Fullmetal Alchemist's personality reemerge, "You're here in my home and I can tell you are upset about something regarding Alphonse." Seeing how he was not getting through to his charge, he added quietly, "I won't use anything you say here against you, considering the source of your upset regards Alphonse. I never would, not with something that is clearly this important to you." Edward barely lifted his face, his aurulent eyes wary as they focused on Roy's serious countenance. "I promise," he insisted, "I'm not here as your commanding officer. I'm here simply to lend you whatever support you require."
"Why are you doing this?" he asked slowly, his voice thick with doubt. The unspoken message was clear: You'll leave, just like every other adult we thought we could trust.
Roy felt something in his chest tighten at the stark cynicism embedded in someone so young. The officers he commanded understood and reciprocated his unwavering loyalty; it was time to prove to his newest and youngest subordinate that earning his allegiance meant he would move heaven and earth to help them, that his promises held weight, meant more than empty platitudes spoken to appease people. "Because you are still a child. Please listen Ed," he entreated, cutting off the angry retort that had bubbled reflexively to Edward's lips, his voice beseeching the boy to truly listen. Edward seemed to sense the gravity of Roy's demeanor and settled, a suspicious frown still on his face. "I do not mean to insult you at all—it's the truth, Ed. I recognize you are fully capable and independent, and I respect and admire that. But I am not merely referring to your age in this instance. I'm referring to the fact that you haven't had any sort of steady guidance and support for several years now." He paused, unsure of what next to speak of. It was extremely difficult to be candid, when he spent all of his waking moments crafting his words and finessing them to his advantage.
Go for broke, he decided with a mental shrug. No gilded words or he won't ever trust you. It's Equivalent Exchange, after all. "My parents died when I was very young," he started haltingly, and the apparent non sequitur seemed to throw Edward off kilter. Aware of the intense but puzzled eyes on him that he refused to acknowledge, Roy stared at the edge of the coffee table, lacing his fingers as he rested his elbows on his knees. "I was adopted by my aunt, who raised me in a—to put it politely, a bar." There was no use sugarcoating the details; he was certain Edward had heard worse since his induction into the military. Regardless, Roy felt that if he tried his utmost best not to add to the boy's already astonishingly expansive inventory of profanity, then it was a job well done on his part. He harbored a sneaking suspicion that the chief source of Edward's knowledge of expletives could be traced to his Second Lieutenants Breda and Havoc; he would be having a talk with them later this week.
"I have no recollection of who they were, what they were like. I've only seen pictures of them, but I don't know their habits, their likes and dislikes, their hobbies. I don't know who they were as people. Despite the fact that I know you detest your father, you are luckier than me in that regard, Ed—at least you have some memory of him." Roy's gaze shifted to his intertwined fingers, naked without their usual white gloves. "My aunt raised me as best she could, but it's difficult to be the child of a single mother. You would know firsthand, doing whatever you could to step up and be the man of the family despite your age and lack of knowledge and ability. My aunt was there for me for as long as I can remember, and she's been my pillar of support. You and Alphonse lost yours when you were eight and he was seven, and have been somewhat adrift ever since, I think."
"Not really," Edward objected with slight belligerence, unfurling a bit from his defensive position, "Pinako-obaa-chan raised us since then."
Roy smiled sadly, still not looking at the boy. "And she has done an amazing job with the two of you. But she has your friend Winry to look after as well, in addition to maintaining a business. And now with you and Alphonse so far away from Resembool, who is your support?" He finally raised his eyes to meet Edward's, silently daring him to reveal a name, any name.
It was incredible the way Edward's face changed when his emotions were barely guarded. Roy was pleased to have visible evidence that his words had penetrated and were being carefully digested with that razor-sharp intellect of his. The boy's countenance was a mixture of distrust, hope, fear, and anger, punctuated by furrowed brows, misty eyes, and a clenched jaw. It once again brought into harsh clarity the reality that this State Alchemist, his little hellion of a subordinate, was only thirteen years old.
And I did this, he thought with a sudden surge of self-loathing, I brought a twelve-year-old child into the military. It abruptly became a trial to stare into the eyes of the physical evidence of what his pride and ambition had wrought, and Roy was forced to look away, deeply ashamed. I am a complete and utter idiot for not thinking about his mental and emotional growth, bringing him into such an environment. I've ruined whatever chance he had at being a normal kid.
Dropping his head, he pressed the heels of his hands into his eye sockets as he wished the ground would open up and swallow him whole. Or perhaps he should utilize the flames in the fireplace and set himself afire—a fitting end for the renowned Flame Alchemist. It was another addition to the endless list of sins he had accumulated, another burden he had added to his shoulders in his bid to reach the position of Führer. He felt that this new one in particular, was especially substantial. His crimes in Ishval had been constrained to ending life, but this newest weight had caused the ruination of a child—perhaps children, plural. His latest mistake would assuredly last the duration of Edward's lifetime, and possibly Alphonse's as well.
The guilt he bore had bile rising in his throat, but he forced it back down. Because he was concentrating so heavily on containing his roiling stomach, he nearly missed Edward's whispered confession. "You."
Roy blinked, twisting his head to stare incredulously at the bowed head of gold and hardly believing his ears. He responded with an eloquent, "Wha—?"
Edward stared at his knees, bound in place by his arms. With the profile of his face backlit by the fire, his hair glowed like a fiery halo and gave him an angelic, otherworldly appearance. "What we did was unforgivable, and yet…" The boy's voice was so soft that Roy nearly had to lean closer to hear the words that haltingly spilled forth from his lips. "You showed up, just after we'd both lost any hope of finding redemption, and gave us the option of another possibility to move forwards besides resigning ourselves to death." Now that he had started to speak, it was as if the dam had broken and he could no longer stem the tide that had built up behind the wall. "You gave us back our hope, our chance at potentially having a normal life again. And once I obtained the title of State Alchemist, you've done nothing but help us wherever you could with leads for the Philosopher's Stone unofficially squeezed into missions. That you would go so far to do that for us, when you even now barely know us, I—" His eyes slid shut, and a single bead of moisture slid down his cheek. "What you've done for us in half a year is more than I can say about Hohenheim."
Roy was floored by Edward's confession. Never in his wildest dreams had the idea ever occurred to him that there was a possibility that he, Roy Mustang, had somehow managed to become a quasi-father figure to—if not Alphonse, then Edward. The concept was utterly mind boggling to him. He had never viewed himself as a parent type; that sort of personality profile was definitely more aligned with Hughes. That he had even somehow manage to usurp Von Hohenheim—Hohenheim!—as a surrogate father to his own flesh and blood was nothing short of a miracle.
"Today is Alphonse's birthday—his twelfth birthday. It marks another year that I've failed to regain his body. I'd promised him over and over that I'd get it back for him, and I've nothing to show for it." Edward leaned his forehead back onto his knees, tightening his arms and tucking his legs tighter against his chest. "Another setback. The lead in Estrelais was a fake. It had sounded so promising. Should have known it was too good to be true. I've let Al down again. I've done it so many times already. Maybe that's all I'm good for."
He curled himself tighter, and Roy had never seen the boy look more drained, defeated. And so undeniably young. That same helpless frustration welled up in his chest, along with a startlingly ferocious desire to protect. Something much stronger than mere sympathy stirred in his heart. Repeating his actions on the rooftop, Roy leaned over and pulled Edward into his side, tucking the blond head beneath his chin, hand curled around the steel shoulder.
"I tried, I really did," he continued, burying his face into Roy's chest, fingers blindly reaching out to once again grasp his shirt. Roy wrapped his other arm around the boy and maneuvered him so that Edward sat across his lap and held him close. "It's my fault that we tried to resurrect 'kaa-san, despite Al's protests. It's my fault that Al lost his body, that he is stuck inside that suit of armor and unable to feel, smell, taste, sleep. I'm such a failure. I wasn't even a good enough son to keep Hohenheim from leaving."
Roy felt dampness soak the front of his shirt as Edward began to quietly sob, his small frame quaking with the effort to suppress the strength of his emotions. He tightened his arms around his subordinate, wordlessly attempting to give as much comfort and support he could physically provide. "You are not a failure, Edward Elric," he whispered fiercely, eyes staring over the crown of gold and into the flames of the fire. "You're proof to me that the impossible can be overcome."
Edward chuckled, a bitter, cynical sound that Roy thought was far more suited to someone more like himself: far older with ingrained suspicion for most of his fellow people and nightmarish experiences of Hell. He disengaged himself from Roy, leaning back and holding his right hand up between them. The metal fingers curled into a fist with the clicks of the mechanical parts inside reacting according to his whims. His eyes were swollen and red, and the fresh tracks from his tears gleamed in the firelight. "My automail is proof of my failures. Plural. One for my idiocy in attempting to bring back 'kaa-san, the other for forcing Al to go through the transmutation with me in spite of his objections." He dropped his hand and leaned forwards, resting his forehead on the center of Roy's collarbones, and the colonel could do little more than hug the boy against his chest.
"Perhaps to you, those are proof of your failures," Roy murmured, jaw resting against the head of spun gold. "But I see something different. I see an indomitable will and the determination to persevere and protect. I see the ability to conquer fear and uncertainty, the ability to succeed against the odds. But do you know what I truly see when I see your automail, Ed?" Roy leaned back, seeking Edward's eyes. When he contacted them, he smiled tentatively. "I see a bond of love and devotion so strong that it transcends death, regardless of the fact that it was taboo. And I can honestly say that I wish I could have felt even an ounce of that bond for someone in my life."
Edward blinked. "You don't feel that way for your aunt?" he asked with a sniffle.
Roy chuckled with a hint of bitterness. "From the very beginning we used each other. She knew how wily and ambitious I was, and I knew she was a dealer in information. Knowledge is power; she had it and I wanted it. There was always an element of give and take, debts owed and accounted for. It was never so straightforward." Roy huffed ruefully. "Maybe that's part of the reason you hate me so much."
"I don't hate you," Edward muttered.
Roy raised a skeptical eyebrow. "Could have fooled me," he remarked offhandedly.
Edward snorted. "You're a bastard. You're an arrogant, supercilious old prick with a god complex who annoys the piss out of me, but I don't hate you."
"And you're a stubborn, snotty little brat who thinks he knows more than everyone else and drives me out of my mind," was Roy's bland rejoinder. When Edward slumped inwards on himself, the colonel added softly, "But despite all of this boy's flaws, I've never been more proud of him."
Edward's head shot up to catch Roy's faint grin, and he echoed it with a shy one of his own. "Bastard," he mumbled as he swiped a sleeve across his eyes.
"Brat," Roy responded, gently but firmly shoving the boy off his legs and back into the corner of the couch he originally inhabited with a thump.
The youth righted himself, indignation written clear across his face. "What the hell?" he snapped, sweat pants and sleeves engulfing his hands and feet. His head now poked out of a mass of wrinkled grey cotton.
Roy smirked at the sight, grabbing the two now cold tea mugs as he stood and headed for the kitchen. "You weighed enough my legs were going to sleep, despite how small you are," he remarked. The expected explosion regarding Edward's lack of stature never came. Instead, right as Roy stepped into the kitchen's threshold, he glanced back over his shoulder. Edward glared at him murderously, but there was something else in that baleful glower, a tiny hint that warmed him inexplicably. He continued to the sink and dumped the tea out. "The spare bedroom is on the left side of the hallway opposite the spare bathroom. Everything you need should already be in there." He finished washing and drying the two mugs, returning to find Edward still sitting at the couch watching the fire. He doused the flames, plunging the living room into darkness.
"This way," he directed, and heard Edward's shuffling footsteps behind him as they climbed the staircase. Moonlight dimly illuminated the corridor, and Roy opened the spare bedroom door for his charge. "I'll wake you in time for a ride to Central Command tomorrow morning."
Edward replied with a curt, "Thanks," as he sidled past his superior officer, not bothering with the light switch.
"Ed." The change in tone from haughty and self-assured to something gentler and more sincere gave the boy pause, and he glanced over his shoulder. His eyes shone like two dim candles in the darkness. "I always have a spare bedroom," Roy said, his expression masked by the backlight of the moon. "And you and Alphonse are always welcome to it. Any time you need it. Sleep well."
Seeing his subordinate's shocked expression, Roy decided he was not going to get a reply and eased the door closed before retiring for the night. He performed his evening ablutions, snatching a glove to dry off the still somewhat-damp clothing hanging over his bathtub. A puff of steam erupted from the clothes, and satisfied, he stripped the glove onto his nightstand and slid into bed, setting his alarm. It's been a long day, he thought as he burrowed into the downy haven of his bed. But I would not trade today for anything. A sleepy smile tugged at his lips. He inadvertently called me his father. The warmth in his chest was balmier than his cocoon of the softest down duvet money could buy as he drifted off into blissful slumber, the only visible sign of him a few tufts of black hair sticking out of the comforter, hiding the contented smile that remained on his lips long after he had fallen asleep.
Hagaren – Roy's abbreviation of Edward's full title, "Hagane no Renkinjutsushi" – Fullmetal Achemist
Chuui – First Lieutenant
Obaa-chan – Grandmother
'kaa-san – Abbreviation of "okaa-san" – mother
Author's Note: … so maybe Roy was a little out of character. I am, however, of the opinion that if someone Roy genuinely cared about were truly upset, then he would set aside his masks and do whatever he could to help. The jab at Roy forgetting Edward's name was a bit of trivia I read about somewhere but don't remember where. And why would Edward not be upset at each passing of Alphonse's birthday, when each passing year represents another year he failed? I'm not happy with how I ended it, but I couldn't think of a better way to do it. I hope you enjoyed it.
Completed: 01.01.2014