Cowardice

"Oh, no," Havoc moans around his cigarette pitifully. "Oh, man. General, this is your fault."

Roy snaps his newspaper open, eyebrows raised, and without looking at Havoc says, "First Lieutenant, how dare you blame me for your own lack of common sense."

Breda is snickering. Roy still isn't looking at Havoc, not outright, but he can see the sour expression on his face from the corner of his vision. He barely resist the urge to grin - or rather, smirk, as his team calls it. He can just imagine it; mouth pulled down, cigarette hanging limply from Havoc's mouth like a sentient indicator of his mood, scowl in place and aimed at Roy. It's glorious.

"Common sense?" Havoc says, voice disbelieving. "With all due respect, what does any of this have in common with common sense, Sir?"

"You should have known the General can get into anyone's pants when you made that bet. Now stop whining and pay up, you sore loser," Breda tells him, and holds out his hand, wiggling his fingers.

Roy's eyes flick to Hawkeye over the top of his papers to find her glaring at him. "What bet?" she says coldly, simultaneously with a different voice from the door, and Roy turns his head to the entrance -

- to meet Edward's eyes. Ed, who's looking at him with take out in his arms, eyes wide and a smile on his face. "What bet?" he repeats, and Roy's mind starts whirring; this can yet be saved, Ed doesn't need to find out that there ever has been a bet about him in the first place -

"Uh-oh," Breda says, and Havoc wolf-whistles, and Roy's eyes are frozen on Ed's; he opens his mouth, and can practically see Ed's mind go into overdrive, watches the smile leave his face, and clamps his mouth shut.

"What bet?" Ed says darkly, and Roy carefully, slowly folds his papers and lays them on the desk, looks to Hawkeye pleadingly only to be met with eyes as furious as Edward's are stunned.

"Gentlemen, Captain Hawkeye," he says, "would you be so kind and let me speak to Fullmetal alone, please?"

Hawkeye stands immediately, and Roy watches as Havoc and Breda scramble from their chairs and follow in her shadow like whipped dogs; she claps Ed on the shoulder as she passes him, and both Havoc and Breda slink around him like they're scared - as they should be, given the look Ed wears on his face now, glaring at Roy, eyes never once leaving his face.

Once they're gone, Ed steps into the room, slams the door shut behind him and drops the take out he so kindly agreed to buy for the team onto the nearest flat surface. "What fucking bet, Mustang?"

"Edward," Roy starts, desperately searches for the right thing to say. "There is no reason to be dramatic - "

"Shut up and spill," Ed snaps. "What the hell have you been betting over with those two assholes?"

Roy grits his teeth. "In essence," he says and decides that honesty is the best course of action here; Ed already knows anyway, he has always been way too smart for his own good, and if Roy can choose between ripping the band-aid right off and drawing it out, he'll choose the lesser evil. Still, there's no easy way to say, "Whether or not you would..." Roy clears his throat. "Let me into your bed."

Eyes stares at Roy hard, and if it weren't for the way the color drains from his face, Roy really wouldn't be able to read him at all. "Oh," he says after an uncomfortably long moment of utter silence.

(Roy is sure Havoc and Breda are straining to hear them in the outer office, the fact that Hawkeye is with them to stop them from pressing their ears to the door the only thing giving him a peace of mind.)

Ed turns to walk away.

"Edward," Roy says. When that doesn't elicit an answer, he tries again; he stands from his chair and says, just before Ed's hand reaches the doorknob, "Edward, wait a moment."

"Fuck you," Ed says and turns to Roy with expression so twisted it nearly floors Roy. "How dare you - you know what?" Ed's eyes are full of venom, lips twisted into a sneer, but it's a weak mask; Roy can see the way his hands tremble, the embarrassed blush the only color left in his face, and behind all the rage he tries to cling to, he looks... Hurt. "You know why I came back here instead of leaving the fucking military like I should have? Because I thought, oh, Mustang may be an asshole, but he's got a cause. Because I thought that under all this bullshit, you were a good person, but - you really are just a bastard, aren't you?"

"Ed - "

"Don't call me that," Ed snaps, voice growing louder before he startles, swallows, fights for control again. "How dare you do this to me, humiliate me like that?" he hisses and then pitches his voice lower in a mockery of Roy's own. "'First Lieutenant Havoc, wanna bet how long will it take before I get into Fullmetal's pants? Poor virginal, heart-broken Edward doesn't know any better,' and then you - what? Share the details with them? Laugh behind my back?"

"Edward, now you're being unfair. This isn't what happened at all."

"Fuck you," Ed says, and his voice shakes.

Roy feels like the biggest scum in Amestris right now.

Ed shakes his head, breathes deeply through clenched teeth, and Roy wonders if his hands shake from anger or grief. He watches Ed swallow, force himself to relax his taut body and look Roy straight in the eyes. "General Mustang," he says in an impassive voice, "I request the rest of day off."

Roy says, "Edward, please listen to me."

"No," Ed replies. "Just give me the day off, you bastard."

Roy wonders, for a moment, what would happen if he said no; would Ed resign on the spot, storm out, bash Roy's head in with a carefully aimed automail kick? "Granted," Roy says. "I expect to see you tomorrow at 0700 sharp. Unless you require more than half a day?"

Ed scowls at him, but the expression breaks halfway, turns into something sour and pained. "Thank you," he grits through his teeth and clicks his heels - something he has never done before, and the realization hits Roy like a slap in the face; he knows, in that moment, that the relationship he's been carefully crafting and cultivating with the man since he was a boy got entirely ruined by one mindless action.

He watches as Ed turns and strides out of the office, jerking his door open and not even bothering to slam it shut behind him, leaving Roy to face stunned Havoc, Breda, and Hawkeye's glare. Roy pries his eyes away from the front door Ed closed behind him with more control than he ever has before, and his gaze drifts across the room dazedly, only to land on - the take out Ed bought for them. It smells heavenly. Roy's stomach turns.

Somehow, he's not very hungry anymore.

 

"I can't believe you," Hawkeye says later that day.

"I can't believe myself, either." Roy drops his head into his hands, massages at his temples. He's exhausted from the scowl Hawkeye keeps aiming his way, just as deadly as her sidearms are; he's exhausted of the way Havoc tiptoes around him, he's tired of Breda glancing at him like he doesn't know if he should laugh or console him, he's tired of Fuery and Falman's worried looks. Most of all he's exhausted from the constant regret.

"This is exactly what I warned you against, you do realize that, Sir?"

Roy looks at her sordidly. "Perfectly," he says.

"I can't believe you'd be so cruel." Hawkeye sounds almost wondrous.

"Captain," Roy says in warning, voice pitched low. "I don't need you to explain this to me."

"With all due respect, I really think you do." Hawkeye says and Roy's suddenly reminded of the fact that the fable of coldness precedes the Captain, even though those who know her know she's anything but. The flatness of her tone stuns Roy now, and it's all he can do not to cover under the unimpressed stare she gives him. "Your treatment of your dates is sometimes borderline disrespectful, but you've always been as loyal and respectful to your subordinates as we are to you - except for Edward."

Roy squirms uncomfortably at her words, and considers defending himself for a moment - except that Hawkeye looks furious, eyebrows drawn like thunderclouds, the corners of her mouth pulled down.

She looks about as displeased with him as Roy's ever seen her. "Except for Edward, whom you show barely any respect at all. And to think you would take it this far - "

Roy clears his throat. "For what it's worth," he says, "I do realize that I've acted out of line."

"You need to talk to Edward, Sir," she says flatly. "And by talk, I mean apologize."

Roy grits his teeth. "I understand," he says.

 

Ed does come in the next morning, much to Roy's surprise. He glares at Havoc, he glares at Breda, but he refuses to meet Furey's eyes and acts like Captain Hawkeye isn't in the room at all, only ever walking past her with his eyes cast sideways, and - face red. Roy almost thinks it's adorable, except this isn't embarrassment Edward's displaying, it's shame and humiliation - something decidedly less endearing. Especially given that it's Roy who put Ed in this state in the first place.

Roy sighs. He stands up from his desk and walks over to the door. "Fullmetal," he says, and prepares himself for the full force of Ed's glare on him... But it never comes. Oh, Ed tries; he turns to Roy with scowl picture perfect on his face, but it slips away at the sight of Roy, along with all the color in Ed's cheeks. What's left is very pale, very fragile-looking young man and Roy very carefully, very casually leans against the doorframe.

The Captain was right; Roy's been cruel to Edward who's young and impressionable and probably one of the most emotionally honest, transparent people Roy knows, and Roy can hardly believe himself - how could he ever think this would be a good idea? "May I have a word with you, Fullmetal?"

Ed's jaw works for a few moments - Roy's eyes slide to where Ed's arms hang by his thighs, notices the clenched fists - and then he says, "Fine," with a hard, cold voice. His steps, though, are uncertain and slow as he walks past Roy.

Roy closes his eyes, takes a deep breath, and counts to ten before he closes the door to the inner office behind them, sealing himself in a room with an irritable Edward who looks halfway to running, halfway to strangling Roy.

"Ed," Roy says and walks past him, considers sitting in his chair but - he turns at the last moment, opting to sit on the corner of his table instead.

Edward stands in front of Roy, face pinched and arms crossed over his chest. His shoulders are hunched weirdly, and he seems to be all coiled in on himself - the perfect image of someone who doesn't know if they want to fill up the whole room with their presence, or disappear completely. "What do you want?" he says flatly, emotionlessly, and Roy, if nothing else, appreciates the effort Ed puts into appearing unaffected by this whole fiasco of a situation.

"I just want to - talk," Roy says, expertly avoids the word apologize. "About yesterday, and... Before."

"Before," Ed says sordidly. "Before, as in when you fucked me on a bet?"

"It sounds so bad when you say it like that," Roy says on a sigh, closing his eyes.

"I say it like it is," Ed says, with a shrug.

"Ed," Roy tries, and the look Ed gives him makes him backtrack, amend himself. "Edward." Ed looks no less murderous, and Roy can't help himself, rolls his eyes. "Fullmetal," Roy says in the end, "we've been through a lot together, and I would appreciate if we could talk now as..." Perhaps 'friends' is a wrong, strange word to use about Edward; it never felt like friends was what they were. "Peers."

Ed blinks, and actually looks shocked for a second, before the laugh rips out of him. He throws his arms out and laughs, covers his eyes with his hand. "Peers," he repeats with audible ire. "This is - Peers. Are you - I'm so stupid." His laughs dies out, leaves Ed with mouth crooked into a pained, miserable expression. "I'm so, so fucking stupid."

Roy is, frankly, disturbed by the display. "Excuse me?" he says, and even to his ears his voice sounds irritated and annoyed.

"No. No, we're not peers." Ed spits the word out like venom. "I never expected you to be my boyfriend, if that's what you're worried about, but I did think we were, you know, friends. I considered us friends, which shows just how stupid I really am."

Ah, so that's where Roy made a mistake. He closes his eyes. "Edward," he says, "in this career, superior officers can't form close personal relationships with their subordinates. You know that. I'm sorry that your expectations were - "

"Don't give me this shit," Ed snaps, cutting Roy off mid-sentence. "Don't give me this shit. As if you care about the rules, Mustang, as if you ever cared! Look me in the eye and tell me that Captain Hawkeye isn't your friend. Tell me Havoc isn't your friend."

Roy purses his lips. "That's different," he says flatly.

"Yeah," Ed says, "exactly. It's different. You're perfectly buddy-buddy with everyone in your team, except me, and I'm an idiot for not having noticed. I'm a fucking idiot for even considering myself to be a part of your team." And then his shoulders slump, his eyes slide closed. "I really am a fucking idiot," he adds quietly, almost too soft for Roy to hear.

"Ed," Roy says, because this is not what he wants, this is so far from what he wants; Roy can't quite force the words past his throat, damn his pride, but Edward is a part of Roy's team, and Roy desperately thinks to the past, rakes his brain for memories of when he treated Edward so badly as to make him feel so alienated.

"No," Ed says quietly, and looks Roy in the eye. "No, if that's what you want, we're gonna be strictly business. So unless you have work for me, I'm gonna walk out that door and not come back in until you do. Are we clear?"

"Edward - "

"Are we clear?"

And what is Roy supposed to do? "Yes," he croaks out through a mouth strangely numb with guilt. He clears his throat and stands up, walks over behind his desk to retrieve a manila folder and slide it over to Edward. "Actually, there is an assignment that could use your skills."

 

This particular assignment requires the combined skill of the entire office. Roy barely goes into the field anymore, unfortunately, but there's not enough long-distance combatants nowadays, with Lieutenant Colonel Armstrong transferred to Liore, and Edward being... Indisposed.

It's not a secret that Ed lost the ability to do alchemy, and once Edward made his decision to stay, Roy worked hard on the upper echelon to keep them from revoking Edward's certification. He feels the anger rise in him even now, years later, because - being able to transmute doesn't make you an alchemist, that's common knowledge, and yet people are less likely to accept it the other way around.

Edward has not lost any of his knowledge or his intelligence, and is still a better alchemist than Roy could ever hope to become, and it's only fair that he gets to keep his title, so painfully earned.

"Fullmetal," Roy calls him, and watches Ed jog over to him from where he's been standing with Fuery, scanning the location. Roy waits until Ed's standing by his side, before pointing to the blueprints in front of him. "We've gone over this before, but just in case - there are two entrances to the building. We'll split into two teams - I, First Lieutenant Havoc, and First Lieutenant Breda will go in through the main entrance, while you," he points to Edward, "and Captain Hawkeye will go in through the back." The rest of the team slowly trails towards them now, listening from a distance to their two high-ranking officers scheme. "Falman and Fuery will stay here and monitor the surroundings. They are not to engage in combat unless the circumstances call for it." He lifts his head from the papers to look at the two soldiers in question. "Do you understand? Unless the enemy comes to you, or unless I or Fullmetal exclusively order you otherwise, you are not to engage."

"Sir," Fuery and Falman say in unison.

Havoc elbows Breda in the side. "Look at him, acting all important," he says in mock whisper, eyeing Roy with a grin.

Roy looks down at the blueprint again. "Get rid of the cigarette, Lieutenant."

Havoc groans and mutters under his breath, "It's not even lit."

Roy turns his attention back to Edward. "Our main objective is to detain every enemy personnel you come across. Did you look over the blueprints?" he asks Ed.

Ed nods, but his face is drawn and grim, and his entire body is angled away from Roy as much as their current position allows, with both of them hunched over a piece of paper, shoulder to shoulder.

"You and the Captain will take the basement floor while I and the rest will take the first floor. If all goes smoothly, and it will go smoothly," Roy says, and looks to the side at Edward, but Ed is frowning at the map still, "we will meet up outside. The fewer the casualties the better, and casualties within the team are unacceptable. Understood?"

Ed's eyes flick up to Roy's now, and Roy almost physically startles at the force of Ed's glare. "Perfectly, Sir," he says, and pushes himself away from the table.

 

Every instinct Roy has is telling him to keep Hawkeye at his side. They work remarkably well together, and he knows he can trust her to guard his back. Except teaming up two long-range fighters - him and the Captain - and three short-range combatants - Ed, Havoc, and Breda - would be completely illogical.

Especially now that Ed's pissed to hell at all of them. Pairing any of the together now would just cause trouble.

Roy knows this, but it doesn't stop him from wanting completely illogical things.

Edward and Hawkeye are going to be good together, though. She can take care of herself, she's proven this time and time again, and Ed - well, Roy isn't worried about Edward at all. Even without his alchemy Ed can be lethal, and Captain Hawkeye is ruthless when it comes to the job, and Roy feels almost sorry for anyone who crosses their path.

The dilapidated house the terrorist group - if you could even call it that - is hiding in is, of course, in the middle of nowhere. A warehouse district in the outskirts of East City, virtually empty at this time of night. And this very part is basically abandoned, anyway, surrounded by worn down red tape and rusty barbed wire.

Roy's team is the only one present - they work better on their own than they do when they have to deal with and accommodate other people; Roy can plan better when he knows the strengths and weaknesses of every person involved in an operation, too, but they have Fuery on the radio, ready to send for reinforcement at any given time.

The windows on the ground floor are open, and Roy moves with extreme caution through the bushes and cover, Edward at his side just as careful. Roy motions to him with swift hand-movements in a code he made sure Edward knew as well as any alchemical symbolism, and Ed nods back, gives him a thumbs up.

A thumbs up.

Roy could strangle him.

With a nods towards the Captain, close on Edward's heel, the two of them split from the group and set off to the back of the house, and Roy watches them go with a foreboding sense of dread.

"Chief," Havoc whispers next to him, shaking Roy out of his stupor.

Roy glares at him and puts his finger to his lips in an universal hush gesture, and Havoc mimics back at him, running two pinched fingers from one corner of his mouth to the other. Roy grits his teeth, closes his eyes, counts to ten; it's not just his pride speaking when he says that he's the most capable general in the Amestrian army, it's a time-proven fact. He and his team are skilled, efficient, and deadly, and apparently, they communicate like five year olds.

 

"Sir," Havoc says quietly, lowering his gun, "the room is clear."

Roy frowns. This is odd; every last single room on the first floor is empty. The windows are opened wide, the lights are turned on, the rooms look lived in, but... there's no one there. It's odd, it's eerie, Roy doesn't like it -

The nearly absolute silence is pierced by a raised voice, coming from somewhere below, a few heavy thuds like harried footsteps, a gunshot, then another. Roy's breathing stops in that moment - that's bound to be Fullmetal and Captain Hawkeye, and of course, of course they'd get into trouble, did he expect otherwise?

Havoc and Breda raise their guns again immediately, eyes trained on the hallway in front of them.

"Sir," Havoc says.

"We're moving," Roy says and tugs his gloves more snugly around his hand. "Be careful."

They move down the stairs as quietly as they can in their hurry, Havoc leading the way in front of Roy and Breda closing their small formation, covering Roy's back.

Roy moves nearly on autopilot, abstractly thankful for the Lieutenants, because without them he'd be completely open to any and all attacks in this current state of terror. Hearing gunshots is always terrifying, but it's the complete silence that fell that truly scares Roy. He hopes that what he finds in one of those rooms is Edward and Hawkeye sitting on their suspects, smug and appropriately serious respectively, and not - an alternative. Any alternative.

Roy's shaking hands clench into fists at his sides.

The house is in a general state of utter desolation, walls greyish and cracked, the tiles filthy and chipped away so much that the original pattern is barely even there, but the lower floor looks undeniably worse than the upper one.

The enemy must have known they were coming. They must have set this up, prepared for this; Roy shouldn't have underestimated them, Roy should have known better because they caused so much trouble with such low numbers in the first place, Roy is a fool for not having planned for this -

Why didn't he just burn the building down in the first place?

None of the rooms have doors, and it's deadly quiet here. Roy motions to Havoc and Breda to check the first two, and he himself takes a deep breath and pokes his head into the third room, only to find it dusty, cluttered with broken furniture, and empty.

There's only one unchecked room left, and Roy walks towards it slowly, silently, carefully, and with great dread, Havoc and Breda behind him. Roy isn't much for praying, but he dedicates a second to a feverish, rapid thought. Please, he thinks, please, please, please...

He looks in.

His first instinct is to raise a gun and shoot, because the first thing he sees is a pair of eyes, cold and lethal, deadly in their focus, above a hand raised, which is always, always a red flag - but...

He doesn't, because he knows those eyes.

"Fullmetal," he says.

It takes Ed longer to snap out of his focus. He stands crouched defensively with his feet planted wide, his right hand raised and bent at the elbow, ready to toss a small knife, not unlike those Hughes used to use. He stares Roy down for several long seconds, and then - he blinks, recognition creeping into his expression slowly like a stain, and his whole body slumps, arm falling down and the knife cluttering to the ground. "Fuck," he gasps out, "what took you so long, you bastard?"

Roy opens his mouth to speak, but his eyes sweep the room first - five unconscious bodies across the floor around Edward, and judging by the pools of blood around them, at least two of them dead. Though that's probably work of the Captain rather than Ed, who is still adamant about his no-killing policy.

And speaking of which... "Fullmetal," Roy says again. "Where is Captain Hawkeye?" he asks.

Ed, breathing hard, takes a step to the side, slumping against a wall, and behind him - a body in a blue military uniform, a cascade of long, blonde hair escaped from its usual tidy clip, the normally fair color tinged pink in places with blood, and Roy's heart nearly leaps out of his throat.

He pushes past Fullmetal and falls to his knees next to Hawkeye, brushing the tangled strands of hair from her face, pressing his fingers into the soft spot at the base of her throat, a litany of, Please, please, please, the only thought on his mind. He's vaguely aware of Havoc and Breda kneeling down beside him, but it's irrelevant, everything is irrelevant in that moment until -

Her skin thrums against his fingers. Her chest rises and falls evenly.

Roy can breathe again. He barks out, "What happened?" his eyes never once leaving the Captain's unconscious body, scanning it quickly for any signs of further injury, but there's no blood except for the trickle that's sluggishly leaking out of a cut on her brow.

Ed's voice is breathy and strained when he replies. "Got ambushed," he says, "by these guys. Hawkeye shot two of them before they knocked her out. I took out the remaining three, but I didn't - "

He breathes heavily, and Roy supposes that it's understandable if he took out three men on his own. He flicks his wrist towards the unconscious bodies scattered around the room and Havoc and Breda get up immediately and get to work.

His team may be a bunch of idiots on any given day, but they are loyal to a fault and truly, extremely efficient when occasion calls for it.

Roy presses his fingers into the bend of Hawkeye's throat, pulls out his watch and counts.

"I didn't know if there were more," Ed continues. "I could hear footsteps but I didn't - I couldn't - "

Her pulse is normal, perhaps a bit slower than is the norm but - she's okay, she's going to be okay. There's a fair amount of blood crowning her head and seeping into her hair, but head wounds always bleed excessively, and her pulse is within the norm, she's breathing, she's going to be fine. "How did they 'take her out'?" he asks.

A beat of silence. "Brass knuckles," Ed replies.

Alright, so she got punched out, and while that makes Roy's blood boil, he imagines he can risk lifting her up without causing her further injury. "Havoc, Breda, finish up here, properly, and meet us outside. Fullmetal and I are going to get the Captain to safety and have Fuery call for a medic and reinforcements."

"Sir, yes Sir," comes Havoc's forcefully cheerful reply, and Roy knows that they're all as worried to see Hawkeye down like this as he is.

He gathers her up gently, careful not to jostle her head too much, and stands, walks past Edward and out of the room. Ed's footsteps follow him, echoing off the walls from behind. He seems to limp more than usual if the sounds of his footsteps are anything to go by. "Fullmetal," he says, but he keeps walking, concentrated on right foot, left foot, careful not to trip. The sooner they get out of here, the better. "Are you hurt?"

Ed grunts.

Well. Of course. Roy recalls seeing Ed hunch over slightly, his left arm pressed to his side awkwardly. His ribs are probably bruised. Roy doubts Ed would be walking around if it were anything more serious than that. "We'll have the medic check you over," Roy tells him anyway, because one can never be too careful.

They walk out into the night, and Roy concentrates hard on the uneven, damp terrain under his feet now. He'd much prefer not to fall while carrying a wounded comrade, but it's difficult in the dark. These new boots are useless on wet leaves, too; Roy is already planning his speech on the next meeting. He will chew out whoever designed these, along with whomever authorized their usage in the field.

The walk to where Fuery and Falman are feels more like a hike up a mountain with the Captain being a dead weight in his arms and Edward stumbling and breathing in heavy, pained gasps behind him, and Roy won't lie, he is beginning to get worried. If Ed's ribs are broken after all then there's a chance of internal bleeding. And even if they aren't, there could be a variety of other life threatening issues just waiting to let themselves be known; it's not like Ed doesn't have a history of underestimating his own physical well-being.

Roy is going to check him over himself once they get to Fuery and Falman.

Havoc catches up with them during their slow walk. "Two dead, General," he says quietly as he falls into step at Roy's side. "Breda stayed behind to guard the ones that are alive, but they're knocked out good. The boss did a good job." A moment of silence, and Roy can almost feel Havoc's skin tingle with anticipation. "How's the Captain doing?"

"Still out cold," Roy says quietly, and his breathing is almost as ragged as Ed's now, because Hawkeye is perhaps lean and small, but she's heavy with muscle. Not to mention that Roy doesn't even want to know how many guns there are on her person. "I guess they did a good job, too. Go check up on Fullmetal, Lieutenant."

Havoc slows down instantly, and Roy can vaguely hear him talk to Ed in a hushed voice behind him ("Hey, boss, you doin' okay?") and Ed's grunt in reply, but he's mostly concentrated on the last several dozens paces before they finally make it to the makeshift camp they set up.

There is no cot, no nothing; they were painfully unprepared for this possibility, and Roy lays the Captain down onto the ground carefully.

He supposes she's lied down in worse places.

Falman runs up to his side, Havoc joining him at his other. "Call a medic and reinforcements," Roy says.

"Warrant Officer Fuery is making the call as we speak, Sir," Falman replies deftly. "We saw you coming up, and we assumed that they would be needed."

And Roy - hah, Roy wouldn't be caught dead saying it out loud, but the truth is that he admires his team. In moments like this, where they work like a well-oiled machine, all their bits and pieces fitting in perfectly; and after all, he admires them even when they're difficult, or annoying. Which is more frequent anyway.

He would never admit to something so sappy, but basic praise he can do. "Excellent, Second Lieutenant Falman. You too, Havoc." He takes one last look at the Captain, makes sure her chest is still rising and falling. The wound on her brow, undoubtedly where she's been hit, is still slowly leaking blood, though only barely. "Keep pressure on the Captain's wound," he tells Falman, then turns to Havoc. "You go back to help First Lieutenant Breda. Be careful."

And he turns around to face Ed, which has been a bit of a challenge lately - granted, it's mostly Roy who's to blame for this. He owes Ed more than a thanks for protecting Hawkeye on the mission. He takes a breath and -

Sees Ed kneeling on the ground on one knee, chest and shoulders heaving with labored breaths and right arm wrapped around his middle, face scrunched up into an ugly, pained grimace, eyes staring into space.

There's a trickle of blood running down from the corners of his lips.

Havoc is the first to speak; a quiet, stunned, "Shit," - but Roy is the first to move; he runs towards Ed and falls to his knees beside him so hard he knows he will regret it later. He puts his hands on Ed's shoulder, around them, but Ed is coiled in on himself so hard he's vibrating with it under Roy's palms -

"Edward, hey, hey, let's get you down," Roy says, tries to pull Ed to the ground, get him horizontal and unraveled so he can see, but Ed won't budge, his breathing loud and more like wheezing from this close. "Ed," Roy says quietly, urgently, straight to Ed's ear. "It's me. It's alright. I've got you."

And that does the trick, because Ed lets out this short, pained gasp, and his head jerks sideways, nearly hitting Roy in the chin, and then - Ed is slumping like a doll in Roy's arms, down down down and backwards, feet scrambling on the muddy ground.

Havoc kneels down on the opposite side, gently taking Ed's hand and pulling it away from his abdomen. "Shit, boss," he says quietly.

Roy can see now, even in the low light, even without having to touch, that there's blood on the right side of Ed's uniform jacket. He can imagine the kind of wound he will find once he unpeels the blue cloth and black shirt Ed wears underneath, having once born similar injury.

Still, actually seeing the puncture in Ed's side, just below his ribs, is different; Roy is lucky he can't really see much, in a way. "Fuck," he says. "Havoc, keep his legs up."

Havoc scrambles immediately, lifting up Ed's legs that were up until now kicking uselessly on the ground. "Holy shit, the automail's heavy," Havoc says.

"Just keep his legs up!" Roy snaps and presses his fingers against the gaping hole in Ed's abdomen.

Ed doesn't quite scream, but it's a sound so desperate, so choked off and agonized, that Roy nearly lets go right then.

"I'm sorry," he whispers. "Edward, keep your eyes on me."

Ed struggles to obey, and Roy wants to joke, 'If I knew this is what would make you do what I say, I would have done it years ago!' but it sticks in his throat, and he keeps his mouth shut except for the continuous murmurs of Ed's name, as he watches Edward's eyes go in and out of focus in their search for him.

"Ed. Look at me."

Ed's eyes finally find him then, and he jerks against Roy and Havoc's combined hold. He doesn't look any less dazed, but his eyes are focused solely on Roy now. "General," he says, like he's surprised to see Roy. His right arm flies up to grip at Roy's wrist where he's pushing against Ed's injury.

Roy can feel Ed's blood flowing between his fingers. "Falman," he yells out. "I need your jacket. Quick!" Because he's afraid to let go for even a second now; who knows how much blood Ed has lost already during their short hike, and he can hardly afford to lose any more either way -

Havoc's thoughts must be going in the same direction, because he says, "I can't believe he walked all this way with this," in a disbelieving, strained voice.

Falman hands over his jacket, already folded into a fairly neat rectangle, and Roy presses it to Ed's side instead.

Ed gasps out at the change in pressure, twisting under Roy's hands, eyes squeezed shut.

"Eyes on me, Edward," Roy tells him.

And obediently, Ed's eyes slide open immediately, searching for Roy. His fingers squeeze Roy's wrist, but Ed's grip is scarily weak. "The Captain," he chokes out. "The Captain - is she - "

In hindsight, it's not that surprising Ed would walk all this way with a gaping hole in his stomach; after all, Roy has done the same deed, years ago, when he thought Hawkeye was in danger. And for fuck's sake, how could they forget that this is Edward, who performed extremely complicated alchemy at the age of eleven with his leg hacked off at the thigh?

Roy's been so goddamn stupid.

"Captain Hawkeye is fine, Edward," Falman tells Ed curtly.

"She went - " Gasp. "Down. I couldn't - " Gasp. "She wouldn't move - was bleeding - her head - "

Roy leans down as far as he can without letting the pressure up. He's the worst person for calming someone down; if he ever knew how to pitch his voice low and quiet and calm, it's a talent long since forgotten. What Roy is good at now is barking orders. "Ed, don't talk. She's fine, she's going to be okay. You protected her well."

And - huh. Maybe Roy isn't as bad at this as he thought, because Ed relaxes instantly at Roy's words, letting out a sigh that gradually turns into an agonized kind of keening. "Oh," he says. "Good. Good."

"Yes," Roy agrees with him, but - realizes the error of his ways, because now, after Ed's purpose has been confirmed as fulfilled, he relaxes perhaps way too much; his head lulls to the side, his eyes start to roll back into his head. The fingers around Roy's wrist slacken in their grip. "Edward," Roy says, and when he gets no reaction, he tries louder, "Ed!"

Nothing. Roy looks up to meet Havoc's panicky eyes.

"Falman," Roy barks at him. "Get here."

Falman does, sinking to his knees beside Roy and pressing his palms over Roy's hands, loosening up only to let Roy slip his hands from under them.

Roy scrambles halfway to his feet and moves to Ed's other side, where he kneels beside him and takes Ed's face between his hands. "Edward!" he yells at him, running his thumbs over Ed's cheek lightly, leaving dark smears of blood on Ed's cold, cold skin. "Ed, you have to stay conscious, do you hear me?"

There is the sound of sirens in the distance.

 

Roy sits and waits. Breda, Fuery, and Falman stayed behind at the scene to help with the clean up, but Havoc went with him, Edward, and Captain Hawkeye to the hospital.

The medics pried Ed from Roy's bloody hands and refused to let Roy ride with them in the ambulance. Roy seethed and in retrospect, thanks whomever for the fact that his gloves were soaked through and rendered useless, otherwise something would have burned.

It was Havoc who snapped Roy out of this. "Sir," he had said softly and laid his hand on Roy's shoulder, steered him quickly towards a car. "Let the doctors do their job. I'll drive you."

Roy thanks whomever for that, too, because his hands shook so badly he doubts he wouldn't have swerved them into a ditch.

So now, Roy sits and waits.

Havoc pulls him out of his morbid, frantic thinking by sticking a cup of coffee under his nose. "It's the best I could do," he tells Roy. "You wouldn't believe who I had to flirt with to even get it at this time of night."

Roy takes the steaming cup from Havoc's hands and holds it under his nose. He doesn't feel like he particularly needs coffee, but if nothing else it gives him something else to do than just wring his hands so hard his wrists hurt. "You shouldn't string along unsuspecting nurses, Havoc," he says dryly.

Havoc snorts. "You're one to talk, General. Is there anyone in this city you haven't strung along?"

And with that the silence falls, because Roy's mind immediately goes to Edward, who's fighting for his very life in surgery as they speak and who's been strung along by Roy so badly the chafing might never heal. Hawkeye's voice is the second thing that comes to mind, saying, 'I can't believe you'd be so cruel,' and, 'You need to talk to Edward, Sir. And by talk, I mean apologize.'

Apologize. Roy never meant to apologize; he had never once felt sorry for how he's acted. When Havoc and Breda brought that bet up to him, Roy never would have even considered going through with it if he hadn't already wanted to do it - unfortunately, Ed was in the wrong place at a wrong time and overheard a conversation that was never meant for his ears.

Had Roy not been an utter fool, he would have told Ed right away that the bet - it never mattered to Roy. The result of the bet had never mattered to him. All Breda and Havoc knew, they figured out themselves.

Roy sighs. Alas, he was too proud and too much of a coward to be honest with Ed, and if this is where it landed them, then Roy has no one to blame but himself. Pride is considered one of the mortal sins, after all, and rightfully so.

Roy is done being a coward. He's done being dishonest with Edward, he's done talking to Edward like he's still a child that he's most certainly not anymore. Most of all, he's done putting off apologizing - if only Ed lives, if only he just lives -

At least Hawkeye is going to be fine, the doctors said. Of course, head injuries are risky, but Hawkeye's could be classified as mild concussion at worst, thank god, and the doctors are optimistic.

"Don't worry, Chief," Havoc says, as if he's reading Roy's mind. "The Captain's gonna be just fine. The good doctors said so. And the boss..." He swallows and clears his throat, and his voice sounds decidedly less cheerful, the lighthearted tone replaced by steely determination. "The boss is tough."

Tough. Yes. "So tough it makes him stupid," Roy says quietly. Tough and stupid and stupidly self-sacrificing, with complete disregard for his own health and safety.

If Ed survives, Roy is going to waltz into his room and apologize. Explicitly, clearly, and loudly say, 'Edward, I'm sorry.'

Then he's going to yell at him.

"General Mustang?"

Roy lifts his eyes up to the nurse calling his name, and stands up quickly, handing the coffee cup back to Havoc who takes it without a word. "That's me. Is Lieutenant Colonel Elric - "

An apologetic smile, and for a second Roy's heart stops. "I'm sorry," the nurse says quickly, "but the Lieutenant Colonel is not yet out of surgery. The doctor will speak with you once we know any details on his condition."

Oh. Of course. They wouldn't have sent a nurse to speak with them if Ed - if it was about Ed. Of course. Roy knows this. But Ed's been in surgery for hours now, and without any news whatsoever Roy can't help but spin out worst-case scenarios in his head like a broken record.

Gods, he's so tired. "I see," he says after a moment of heavy silence.

"Captain Hawkeye is conscious and has requested to see you. If you would follow me..."

Yes. Yes, of course, yes, finally, something for Roy's mind to do other than fret horribly. "Of course. Lieutenant?"

"I'll wait right here, Chief." Havoc waves him off. "If anything happens, I'll let you know. Tell the Captain I said hello."

Roy nods, and then follows the nurse through the empty, grim hallways of the hospital. Roy looks straight ahead, concentrated on the sound of his footsteps and doing his best to ignore the poor souls sitting in the halls, waiting.

Rarely does anyone come into the hospital in the middle of the night because of anything but a tragedy.

 

The nurse shows him into a room where, pale and frowning, sits Hawkeye with a bandage around her head, her bangs sticking out from under it in a truly ridiculous way. She turns when the doors open and glares at Roy.

Roy feels disproportional relief. "Well, good morning, Captain," he says and, with a glance towards the window, realizes it's not much of a lie anymore.

"General," Hawkeye says. "My head hurts."

Roy walks over to her bed and pulls up a chair, sits down and really, truly looks at Hawkeye. She looks angry, face pinched in a way that never bodes well for Roy, but on second glance, it's probably just from the pain. Roy smiles. "You did hit it fairly hard."

"Ah," Hawkeye says. "The mission. How did the mission - " And then her eyes widen. "Edward," she says faintly, looking up at Roy. "We've been ambushed, and Edward... Is he alright? The rest of the team?"

Roy watches her for a long moment, making a conscious effort to even out his breathing against the tightness in his chest. She's concussed and confused, and Roy shouldn't be telling her this now. Don't worry about it, he wants to tell her. He wants to downright lie if it means not having to worry her, but -

She squints at him. "General."

"Ah," Roy says and closes his eyes. She's always been good at reading him. "Edward has been injured. He's in surgery now. Everyone else is unharmed. Havoc says hello."

The last of her color drains from Hawkeye's face. "Oh," she says and slumps against her pillow.

"It's not your fault," Roy says. "It's mine."

Hawkeye neither confirms nor denies this. All she says is, "You have not apologized to him," in a slightly accusing tone.

Roy huffs out a short, desperate laugh. "No," he says. "No, I haven't, and now I might - " He shouldn't bother her with this. She doesn't need more worries in this state, what she needs is peace and quiet and rest. Roy should keep his mouth shut. "Now I might not get the chance to talk to him. I'm an idiot."

Hawkeye is giving him this blank-eyed stare, like she's disappointed in him and pitying him at the same time. Roy really should have kept his mouth shut.

"You're supposed to reassure me that Edward will be all right now, Captain."

"I am supposed to do nothing of the sort, General. I'm lying in a hospital bed with no recollection whatsoever of what happened and no information on Edward's actual state of health. You're supposed to be reassuring me."

Roy covers his face with his hands, and repeats what Havoc told him not too long ago. "Ed is tough."

Hawkeye hums and closes her eyes, leaning further into her pillow. "Of course. Keep me updated on his status, Sir."

Roy smiles. "Was that an order, Captain?"

Hawkeye pretends to be asleep, but Roy can tell by the way her eyebrow twitches.

 

Roy leaves the Captain to pretend to sleep with the hope that eventually she might for real, and returns to Havoc who's waiting patiently in the hallway, currently stretching his muscles.

They're both tired, not to mention bloody. Roy got rid of his uniform jacket, and tried to wash Ed's blood off his hands, but it's still stuck under his fingernails and in the creases of his palms. Roy looks at his hands to make sure, but - yes. The blood is still there.

He slumps onto the small, plastic hospital chair. "Any news?" he asks.

"I said I would come get you if there were," Havoc replies, rocking back and forth on his toes. "How's the Captain?"

Roy frowns at him. "The Captain is fine enough to chew me out. How many coffees did you have, Havoc?"

Havoc grins. "Three since you've been gone," he says cheerily, and Roy sighs. "Yours is right there," he adds and points to the small table stuck in the long row of chairs.

Roy keeps frowning. "That's bound to be cold by now," he says.

Havoc shrugs.

"I'm not drinking stale coffee, Havoc. You can burn off some of that energy by getting me a fresh cup."

Havoc shrugs again. "I might as well go on a cigarette break while I'm at it," he says and basically bounces off, waving over his shoulder. "Wait right here, General."

As if Roy's going anywhere.

 

The news come, of course, while Havoc is gone on one of his many cigarette breaks, nearly two hours after Roy was allowed to see the Captain. The hospital is bustling with activity now, people slowly trailing in for their daily check-ups and treatments, nurses and doctors switching shifts, giving quiet good-byes to Roy or eyeing him with curiosity (and pity, because Roy is sure he looks horrible at this point, in his bloody, crumpled shirt and with shoulders slumped in exhaustion).

He doesn't know how much more of this he can take. If they don't come for him soon he might have to leave after all, get some sleep before going to the office to stress himself out there. Havoc's not looking much better now, either; not after Roy banned him from having any more coffee, so the cigarettes are the only things keeping the Lieutenant functioning and on his feet.

A door bangs somewhere, and a voice calls out, "Major General Mustang," and Roy shoots out of his chair like he's been stung, his back and knees complaining loudly. He comes face to face with a woman clad in a coat as white as her hair, drying her hands with a towel, and giving Roy the most disbelieving look he can imagine. She looks tired, too. "You're General Mustang? Lieutenant Colonel Elric's commanding officer?" she asks.

Roy clears his throat. "Yes. Is Lieutenant Colonel Elric - "

"He's alive," she says curtly, and Roy slumps even further, so relieved his head spins with it. "For now," the doctor adds. "As I'm sure you know, his injuries were rather serious, and combined with his medical history..." She drifts off. "Awfully young kid, this Lieutenant Colonel," she says. "As are you, for a General. Is this some new kind of trend in the army?"

Ah, Roy thinks. So she's not fond of the military. Not that he can really blame her; after all, it was him who carried a twenty-year-old bleeding and on the brink of death to her doorstep. "Not how I would put it," he says mildly. "We are perhaps a bit special."

She hums, but her face is pinched with disapproval. She pulls out a pair of glasses from her front pocket and starts reading off the folder she carries with her.

And just like that, all the relief Roy felt only seconds ago slowly trickles away until he is left with a frightening panic again.

Damaged liver, nicked intestines, extensive internal bleeding... The doctor shakes her head. "All that on top of massive blood loss, and don't even get me started on the list of his previous injuries. Some of it is rather confusing," she says, glancing at Roy like it's his fault. "His medical files list two automail prosthetics, but I'm sure I've only seen one. The scarring around the Lieutenant Colonel's shoulder is quite impressive, on the other hand. Did you say he is an alchemist?"

Roy grits his teeth. "I don't see how any of this is relevant."

"Of course you don't," the doctor says. "As a doctor I do wonder how he managed to grow a limb, though. Not to mention that the circumstances surrounding their loss in the first place are foggy at best as well - "

Roy feels the wrath coil in his stomach like a poisonous snake. He straightens his back and narrows his eyes. "I suggest, Doctor, that you refrain from making any more assumptions about my subordinate's history, unless it directly affects your job. Which is, may I remind you, to ensure that he lives. If I get the impression that you do not have his best interests in mind, we are going to have a problem. If he does not survive - " Gods forbid; the sentence tastes like venom in Roy's mouth. " - and I get the impression that you have wasted any of your valuable time picking apart unimportant details in my subordinate's history instead of providing him with necessary treatment, we are going to have a big problem." Roy takes one half-step forward, but it's enough to make the doctor flinch away. "Are we clear, Doctor?"

Someone touches Roy's shoulder in that moment, and Roy whirles back with a snarl, coming face to face with Havoc's panicked eyes. "Whoa, General. What gives?"

Roy breathes hard and stares Havoc down, but Havoc bravely looks back, eyes pleading and nervous, until the anger leaves Roy in a huff, leaving only exhaustion and fear in its wake. He lets out a heavy breath, unclenches his hands, and turns back to the doctor. "I apologize," he grits through his teeth.

The doctor looks at Roy with a strange mixture of fear, respect, and rage - a look Roy is sadly familiar with. She clears her throat. "I would appreciate it, General, if you refrained from threatening any more hospital staff, or we will indeed have a problem," she says, and Roy is properly chastised. But, apparently, so is the doctor, because she clears her throat again and shifts on her feet. "But you are right. I apologize as well. My patients' health is my most pressing concern, of course, but... I suppose this has been a long night for all of us."

Roy nods, and Havoc lets go of his shoulder, though he continues to stand by Roy's side. The doctor pushes the glasses further up her nose and glances at her files again. "As I said before, the Lieutenant Colonel's injuries were quite extensive. His only luck is that his kidney hasn't been damaged, since his second one is already pretty much dead, scarred meat, excuse the bluntness."

Roy says faintly, "What?"

"As it is," the doctor continues, "the patient's condition is serious, but stabilized. Of course, no one can know when a body is pushed to its limits, and the Lieutenant Colonel's body has been pushed a lot in the past. But I would suggest cautious optimism."

Cautious optimism. Alright. That's something Roy can work with.

"I assume his family has been contacted already?"

Roy nods. Winry Rockbell is, as Roy knows her, already on her way to Central by now, and the Xingese embassy is instructed to get ahold of Alphonse Elric even if they have to bother the Emperor to do it. Which is, sadly, about the entire extent of Edward's close circle.

Them, Roy, and Roy's team.

And then the doctor gives Roy a tired half-smile and says, "Would you like to see him?"

 

It might help him, the doctor has said before she led Roy into Ed's room. He's unconscious and won't wake up anytime soon, but many people believe that hearing voices of their loved ones, or at least familiar voices, helps unconscious or comatose patients wake up sooner. Roy doesn't bother to tell her that he is in no way Edward's loved one, and that the only reason Edward would ever wake up because of Roy would be to punch him in the face. Roy's not one for talking to unconscious people, anyway, despite how much Edward likes to claim that Roy likes to talk just to hear his own voice.

Ed is pale and drawn and - god forbid Roy ever said anything like this out loud - small in the hospital bed, diminished, hooked on enough machines to power a medium sized building. Roy sits down heavily at Ed's side and closes his eyes, leans his head back and listens. Ed's breathing is shallow and slow, but it's there, and compared to those pained, irregular gasps he kept making the last time Roy saw him, this is like angels' music in Roy's ears.

"You idiot," Roy says quietly, eyes still closed and head tipped back. Why didn't Ed say something?

For a moment, Roy expects - hopes for - Edward's eyes to flutter open slowly and turning to Roy with great disbelief before he croaks, 'Didn't they teach you bedside manners in Bastard school?' but nothing happens; Ed remains sleeping, chest rising and falling and rising and falling.

Roy has been given ten minutes with him before one of the nurses comes and kicks him out, and if he's going to spend them holding Ed's hand and listening to him just breathe... Well, who is around to see?

 

Ed wakes up two days later, only a day after Winry Rockbell arrives in East City and only several hours after Captain Hawkeye is finally released with the instructions to take it easy and rest for a few days more.

Which she doesn't, obviously, because by that time Roy's understaffed office is in pathetic, sad shambles; Hawkeye takes one look around and frowns from under the white bandage still plastered over her brow, and then flattens Roy with a look. The one Roy knows Havoc and Breda call The Look. The look where her entire face pinches with disapproval. "Have the hospital forms been processed, General?" she asks.

"Um," Roy says.

"Please," Hawkeye says with a tone that is in no way a request, "go through them now. The sooner they leave the office, the better."

And so Roy does, and spends the entire day signing tedious paperwork and cleaning up the mess their botched mission created, until his hand feels ready to break off at the wrist, only ever interrupted by periodic fits of crippling worry and fear for Edward.

The call that Edward is awake comes mid-morning the next day courtesy of Winry, who sighs into the phone with relief so obvious Roy feels it in the very marrow of his bones. "He's awake," Winry says into the phone softly. "Well, he's asleep now, but he woke up for a bit. First thing he asked about was Captain Hawkeye." A hint of amusement in her voice, and Roy closes his eyes. "She should probably visit him. I doubt he'll rest easy until he sees with his own two eyes that she's okay, the idiot."

She sounds so fond of Ed that Roy once again wonders, for a hundredth time, why they're not together. It would make sense, wouldn't it? "I'll pass the message along," he says.

"You should visit him, too, General."

Roy huffs. "I doubt he wants to see me anywhere outside of work, Miss Rockbell," he says, because despite all his promises to himself, he's is still a coward.

Winry just hums. "It would be really nice if you came to see him," she says thoughtfully, obviously bent on making Roy feel guilty. Well. Guiltier. "I have a duty to my patients, and I'll have to leave for Rush Valley again soon. It would be good to know he won't be alone here." And then, in a voice quieter, more tired, "I'm afraid he'll be here for a while."

And Roy may be an idiot, but he's not stupid enough to risk the wrath of two blonde women.

 

Still, it takes Roy days before he gets around to actually seeing Ed, and he only finds the time to visit after work - no, that's a lie. Roy knows he could have took the time off work to go to Ed, no one in the office would hold that against him; Roy himself has waved off practically the entire team at some point or another when they announced they were going to visit their injured colleague.

The reason why Roy delays visiting his most insubordinate subordinate is because he's scared to face him.

He walks through the hospital hallways, empty and quiet at this time of day, and in full uniform and with his back straight, no one dares to stop or question him.

Ed looks both better and worse than he did the last time Roy saw him. He props himself up a little on the bed when Roy comes into his room and he's pale and obviously in pain, but Roy has to fight laughter all the same because most of all, Ed looks pissed.

"Well, Fullmetal," Roy says and ignores Ed's venomous glare, "you really did a number on yourself."

"Fuck you," Ed says, eyes narrowed, voice weak and hollow. It's such a relief to hear it.

"My, my." Roy smiles and settles on the chair that's by Ed's bedside. "Someone's in a sour mood."

"I have a hole in my gut," Ed says and flops back onto the bed, staring at the ceiling with a frown. "And the stitches fucking itch, so yeah, I'm in a fucking sour mood."

Roy sighs. "I'm well aware of the extent of your injuries, Edward," he tells him. "You bled all over my uniform."

Ed scowls at him, fists clenched on top of the sheets. "Do you want a formal apology, you bastard?"

"No," Roy says calmly. It's easy to ignore the stifling panic he felt for the past few days when Ed's awake and breathing and talking. "Although I would like to know what possessed you to neglect to mention that you had, as you put it, a hole in your gut." And there it is, the familiar spark of anger.

Ed clenches his teeth. "Fuck you," he says weakly. "I did exactly what you told me to do. 'Casualties within the team are unacceptable.' That's what you said, so I did my fucking best to make sure no one on the team fucking died, you ungrateful - "

Roy stares at Ed with growing annoyance. "No one on the - you almost got yourself killed!" he snaps. "You did the exact opposite of what I asked you to!" And then a horrible thought crosses Roy's mind, and he snaps his mouth shut and stares at Ed, wide-eyed and stricken. "Edward, you are part of the team."

Ed frowns at Roy, eyeing him with suspicion, and then snorts and flops back onto the pillow closing his eyes. "Congratulations to me."

Ed is as white as the hospital sheets, dark circles under his eyes and hands clenched with rage, and Roy remembers those fingers scratching at his naked back one time and gripping his wrists, slippery with blood, not too long ago, and the anger leaves him as quickly as it has risen.

He closes his eyes, takes a deep breath, lets it out, and says, "I'm sorry." And finally, finally those words are out of Roy's system, and it didn't even hurt.

Silence. Roy opens his eyes slowly and looks down at Ed, who watches him with eyes wide and surprised and shiny. He blinks and says, "What for?"

"Well." Roy laughs softly. "First of all, for not visiting you sooner."

Ed scoffs. "I don't need your company, bastard."

Roy chooses to ignore that. "Secondly," he says, "for letting you get hurt so badly in the first place."

Ed - laughs. "Letting me - "

"I would also like to apologize," Roy cuts in with a glare, but it doesn't last, and instead Roy feels his own face melt into something soft and sad, "for not considering your feelings when I acted on that bet."

Ed sniffs. "Don't flatter yourself, Mustang," he says flatly, dismissively, but it sounds entirely too unconvincing.

"I would never." Roy tries to joke, but it obviously falls short; he sighs under the glare Ed aims his way. "The truth is," he says, "that I wanted to do it. I'm not entirely sure how the Lieutenants found out about it, but I - the bet just gave me a reason to go through with it. The only thing I would change about the situation is that you found out about it like that. That I didn't put a stop to it before it got way out of hand." Roy laughs, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Actually, there are a lot of things that I regret."

Ed looks utterly stunned; he stares at Roy, opening and closing his mouth, and the color is rising rapidly in his cheeks.

Roy is starting to feel the beginnings of a blush in his cheeks as well, and decides to be merciful and put them both out of their misery; before Edward can stutter out a response, or accuse Roy of - whatever strikes his fancy in that moment, for there are several things Roy is guilty of, he continues. "Most of all, however," Roy says, voice still soft and quiet, "I want to apologize for whatever I did to make you feel like you were less important to me than the other members of my staff."

It seems to work, and Ed snaps out of his stupor. "That's a shitty apology," he says dryly.

"Ed, I'm serious."

Ed's mouth snaps shut and his jaw clenches hard. He turns away from Roy, looks out of the window, and mutters, "Yeah, whatever."

Roy sighs. Of course. He knew it couldn't have been that easy.

"It's not like it matters anyway."

That surprises Roy. His eyebrows arch. "What do you mean, it doesn't matter? Ed, of course it matters."

"Look," Ed says quietly, still looking out the window. "I overreacted. You were right. I made this into a big deal when it really was not, and then I put the whole mission at risk because my feelings were hurt. Besides…" He glances at Roy. "It's not like I got stabbed on purpose because of my inferiority complex or something."

Roy's lips twitch. "I wouldn't put it past you. You've always had a certain talent for… Dramatics."

Ed laughs as if he tried not to, but the emotion gives way immediately to a groan of pain. "Fuck you," Ed says.

Roy hopes, prays, that Ed catches the meaning hidden behind the joke when he says the next words - that this isn't the end. It's only a beginning. "Not until you're better," he says, slowly and meaningfully, looking Ed straight in the eyes.

For someone who's lost about half of his body weight in blood just a few days ago, and was still hooked to a lot of machines to even stay alive, Ed sure did blush easily. "Wipe that goddamn smirk of your face, asshole," he hisses at Roy with a rough voice.

Roy, of course, only smirks harder. "I expect you to make a speedy recovery, Fullmetal," he says loftily.

Ed's eyes are wide and startlingly yellow in contrast with his burning face. "You - dick," he says. He sounds sort of strangled, and Roy can't help but grin, grin, grin, and be so glad to Ed is alive.

"I'll leave you to rest now. I'm sure the rest of the office will come eventually to bother you. Anyone who has to deal with Lieutenant Breda's bedside manners needs their strength." And he stands and with one last look at Ed, bright red and staring at Roy like he's not sure if he wants to kiss him or kill him, he turns towards the doorway.

"They're not worse than yours," Ed calls after him, and he sounds livelier already.

Roy smiles the entire way home.

 

There's a thin, pink scar on Captain Hawkeye's forehead. She walks up to Roy's desk and hands him his paperwork for the day. "Have you apologized to Edward, General?" she asks.

Roy hums. "I did, Captain."

"I hope you've learned your lesson," Hawkeye says. "I strongly advise that this doesn't happen again, Sir."

Roy leans back in his chair and gives Hawkeye a lazy grin. "On the contrary," he says. "Hopefully it will happen again. Often. Multiple times."

Hawkeye looks a little taken aback, but as she is prone to do, she recovers quickly. "Well," she says with eyebrows arched. "It is your funeral."

Roy smiles. Something tells him that it will be quite the opposite.