Category: General Fluff, Hurt and Comfort

Characters: Edward Elric, Roy Mustang

Requested By: Anonymous User

Edward turned his head as moonlight streamed in through the hotel room window, spilling over the wooden floor and matching furniture like the snows of winter spurred by the wind, bathing everything in its soft white brilliance. His metal arm shone brightly as the light caught its polished edges, then flowed across Winry's sunshiney blonde hair that was currently thrown across his shoulder and over his back from where her face was nestled into his neck. Edward would never tell her out loud, but he thought it looked kind of beautiful, turning silver from the intensity of the moon's glow. Then the tears that were still fresh on her flushed cheeks blazed into light, too, and painfully reminded Edward of why she was curled up on his lap in the first place. They were never too close like that, with her being so brutish, but for the first time Edward had really seen her as a fragile girl; with her being reduced to miserable tears in the wake of Lt. Colonel's- well, Brigadier General, now- death, Edward had put awkwardness and petty comments aside to embrace the crying girl, and they had ended up like this. Winry had cried herself to sleep, slumped against his right side with her arms still loosely wrapped around his neck. He tried to keep his movements minimal, not wishing to awaken her since she had just fallen into slumber, but dammit, his leg was falling asleep.

Decided after a few more minutes that it was high time he went to sleep himself, he very slowly and carefully pulled Winry's arms from his neck to gently rest them at her sides; he then gripped her softly by the shoulders, pausing to grope across the couch and retrieve a throw pillow, to lay her down on the couch. He froze as she murmured something incomprehensible and shifted. When she did not awaken, he released the breath he had been holding and pulled himself up over the back of the couch, allowing her legs to fall freely against the fabric. However, in his attempt to be quiet and considerate he chose a pretty stupid means of retracting himself, because he lost his balance and flopped over the back of the couch, landing in a crumpled heap on the hard floor. He swallowed the scream that threatened to spill from his mouth to instead release a high-pitched whine, sitting up slowly and rubbing the already sizeable lump on his head. He then fearfully peered over the back of the couch to see Winry still completely asleep, having not even tossed or turned at his disgraceful fall. It's a good thing that she's a hard sleeper, he thought with a small sigh as he stood up. He walked to the bedroom to pull the comforter off the bed and drag it across the room to drape it over the sleeping girl, making sure that she was covered well before his shoulders sagged in exhaustion from the whole ordeal. Comforting girls is too much work, he thought as he wryly rubbed the back of his neck and smiled down at her.

"'Night, Winry," he murmured before hastily retreating from the room lest all his efforts go to waste. When he shut the door quietly behind him and arrived in the safety of the hallway, he let out a loud sigh and flopped against the wooden door. He glanced down the hall at the door to his own room, where Alphonse was probably huddled on the floor moping too. Edward's mouth twitched; though he could probably use the presence of his brother, he wasn't in the mood to have a pity-party. I wanna be alone, he thought and slipped his hands into his coat pockets as he turned on his heel and marched down the hallway. His feet carried him down to the lobby and out of the hotel into the night; the air had cooled with the withdrawal of the sun, but not enough for Edward to shiver or draw his coat tighter around himself. He glanced up at the night sky, hoping to see the stars, but was disappointed to find that the grey clouds eclipsed most of them. Even the light of the moon had disappeared, absorbed by the thick layer of clouds and casting a dismal shadow upon the world. "How poetic," he mumbled as he dropped his gaze down to the equally dull concrete. He scuffed at it with the toe of his boot, not quite sure where he wanted to go now that he was outside. With nothing else to do, he just began walking, because his feet would carry him somewhere at least.

Edward's gaze remained downcast as he wandered the empty, quiet streets of Central. He hadn't wanted to mope, but in such a depressing atmosphere, it was a little hard not to. After all, Hughes had more or less died because of his and Alphonse's meddling in the mysterious Homunculus affair. He gritted his teeth angrily and balled up his fists in his pockets. It wasn't fair. Why did a great man like him have to die for their sake? And why didn't Edward appreciate him more? He had always brushed him off as a ninny who talked too much about his wife and daughter, but he was a good man who always lent Edward and Alphonse a helping hand. He always came to see Edward in the hospital, and he had opened his home up to Winry. Edward never thanked him for all that; he had only stubbornly snapped and acted like a tough guy. He began to quiver as he grew angrier and angrier at himself, until he felt something went roll down his cheeks. He lifted his hand and the fingertips of his glove came away dampened by tears. With an angry sniff, he wiped furiously at his eyes in an effort to get them to stop. Tears never did any good. Edward hated crying, because it was always just a pitiful reminder of how weak he really was. With an angry shout, he took off running down the street; he could concentrate more energy into that, and he wouldn't have to think or cry anymore.

When the fog finally lifted on his mind and he actually paid attention to where he was going, Edward found that he had arrived at a metal gate. Beyond it lie rows and rows of pristine white headstones. In some sickening twist of irony, he had run to the military cemetery. He gripped the iron handle of the gate, making it tremble slightly from the quiver of his hand; he ought to go in, because he had subconsciously come here, but he was afraid, afraid to confront the reality of what his actions had caused. You coward. Go in there and say something, he told himself angrily, and that burst of wrath made him wrench open the metal gate and go stomping inside. As he strolled through the rows, reading the hundreds of names, his momentary courage rapidly waned until he was just about ready to whirl on his heel and flee; however, just then he caught a flash of color in the muted landscape of the night, and wandered over to a recently tended headstone. Inscribed into the stone was the name of the man whom he was grieving, the man whom he had let down.

Overcome by emotion, Edward fell to his knees in front of the stone. The words came tumbling out of his mouth before he could even think of them.

"Mr. Hughes, I'm so sorry. I never meant for this to happen. I should have been more careful, I should've-" He cut himself off as those frustrating tears went spilling from his eyes again, and he nearly bit his tongue as he snapped his mouth shut and began scrubbing at his face again. Stop crying, stop crying, you useless-

"FullMetal?"

Edward whipped around with a gasp at the sudden address, especially because it was someone he didn't expect; Roy Mustang was standing a few feet away, still dressed in his uniform. He had obviously just come from the office. Sniffing and turning his face away so that he could not see the flush that had appeared in his cheeks from his stupid crying spell, he stood up and gave him a respectful dip of his head.

"Hello, Colonel," he muttered. Edward's anger at himself was rapidly beginning to become displaced; the colonel had lied to him about Hughes' death. He knew he was going to find out eventually, so why would he not tell him? That anger rapidly became flush with misery. Hughes was the colonel's best friend, despite how they acted toward one another; how would he react when he found out that his death was all Edward's fault? He would be furious, for sure, he would never forgive Edward for that, and that hate was no less than he deserved, no less. Trapped in the maelstrom of those back-and-forth emotions, his fists balled up at his sides and his head hung low so he could not see his horrified expression and quivering lip, Edward just stood rigid in front of the headstone, frozen at the spot. It was just too much to take, all at once; he had let his wall of fortitude crumble and though he was frantically trying to reassemble it and resume his optimistic, unbothered self, he just couldn't. He tried to speak, to not make the colonel suspicious, but the words formed an uncomfortable lump in his throat- and God damn it, the tears had started again. He watched in frustration as they splashed down onto the toes of his shoes, which then blurred at the onset of more of the salty water flooding his eyes. He hated himself so much right now, and worse, the colonel probably though he was such a pathetic mess-

"Edward, you don't have to hold it in," the colonel sighed, and Edward stiffened as the man placed a hand on top of his bowed head. The colonel never called him by his first name, ever. Edward was shell-shocked as he even went as far as to gently ruffle his hair, and he looked up in shock, too bewildered to care about the tears on his cheeks. He was even more confused when he saw the colonel wearing an actual expression, a sad smile with a warmness in his eyes that Edward had never seen before. It was more of an expression that Lieutenant Hawkeye would wear, and for a second he wondered if he was hallucinating and it was her but he was just seeing the colonel. "I'm sorry. I should have told you the truth." No, that was the colonel's voice, and more, he was apologizing? Edward's roiling emotions couldn't find a hold in the sheer amount of amazement and confusion he was feeling, and he just stared dumbly up at him. The colonel exhaled deeply and retracted his hand, sliding them both in his pockets as he glanced down at the gravestone. "Hughes would kick my ass for lying to you and treating you like a kid."

Edward dropped his gaze back to his feet guiltily. He was trying to protect me from it. Edward didn't really like being treated like a kid, but he could appreciate the colonel's concern, especially for something like this. A confession danced on the edge of his tongue, but he drew it back. First, he was scared of how the colonel would react, but even more so he was scared of involving him in the matter of the Homunculi. One person had already ended up dead. He didn't want to add more to the body count because he had a loose tongue. Feeling trapped, Edward sunk into himself. I don't know what to do… The colonel must have mistaken it for more depression, because he did something Edward never expected.

Edward gasped as he wrapped an arm around his head and with one smooth movement pulled him into what was very obviously a light hug. His nose bumped against the colonel's chest, and as he reeled in the confusing embrace, he heard him sigh again. "It's okay to cry, y'know. It doesn't make you any less of a man." At the gentle reassurance coming from someone he never expected, Edward felt his bottom lip wobble as the tears pounded on the door he had locked, demanding to be released; this time, he opened the door willingly, and he buried his face into the blue fabric of the military uniform, smudging it with the tears that were now spilling freely. With a shaky hand he reached up to the colonel's back to grip his jacket tightly, and though he tried to keep his sniffles quiet they came out a lot louder than he meant. Still, the colonel didn't ridicule him for it.

"It's my fault," Edward whispered quietly. He hadn't meant to say anything, but he felt like he owed it to the colonel, no matter what became of it. Edward's head shifted as the colonel inhaled deeply, and Edward's fingers curled tighter into the fabric as he feared an oncoming confrontation.

"Hughes wouldn't blame you for his death, so neither will I, FullMetal. He died doing what he believed in, and I won't ask about your involvement in it, because I'm already aware that you can't tell me anyway," the colonel answered mutely, and Edward glanced up at him in shock. Did he talk to Major Armstrong? He wasn't looking up at him, but up at the sky now. Edward followed his dark eyes to find that the clouds were breaking apart, allowing the light of the moon and stars to gradually peek through. "You just keep moving forward. Let me take care of the rest," he added and looked down at him with a smirk. Edward gave one last sniffle before using his other hand to dry his eyes, for the last time, he told himself, before nodding firmly. It was still a little weird having such a moment with an abrasive, stoic man like the colonel, but Edward did feel comforted. He snickered and pushed his head lightly as he unwrapped his arm from it, and Edward recoiled with a grumpy shout, fixing his mussed-up hair.

"You're such an ass, Colonel."

"Watch it. I'm still your superior, even though I'm off the clock," he warned him, but he still had that small smile on his face. As Edward teased his golden locks into submission, he smiled shyly back at him.

"Thanks… I feel a lot better." The colonel dipped his head at him, but remained standing there; figuring that he wanted to pay his respects to his fallen friend, Edward stepped aside and moved to start the walk back to the hotel. As he walked past him, the colonel suddenly caught his arm, causing him to look back at the man who was staring rigidly at the gravestone, silhouetted by the brightening light of the moon.

"FullMetal… Do me a favor and check in every once in a while. Hawkeye won't admit it, but she gets concerned about you." Edward's mouth curled into a wry smile, knowing that it was really just that the colonel didn't want to admit he got concerned, but he nodded in affirmation.

"Can do. See you later, Colonel." The man released his grip and his arm dropped to his side, and Edward left him there to pass words unspoken on to the dead man. As the gate flopped shut with a resounding clang!, Edward glanced up at the now-clear sky. Poetic. I feel like I'm in some kind of cheesy drama, he thought with a disdained snort, finding great irony in the way the sky was mirroring his mood and situation. Still, with the light pouring down and the clear view of the stars, he felt a little better.

Can you hear me, Mr. Hughes? I promise, I'm gonna keep moving forward, and I'll find out what these Homunculi are up to. I won't let your death be a waste. After the silent vow, he began the walk back to the hotel, trotting down the sidewalk. He couldn't move forward on no sleep, after all.