Archive of Our Own

To save his own life, he would have to kill. It goes against everything he stands for; he feels cold hypocrisy tightening around his throat, threatening to cut off his airway. He doesn’t want these people dead, though they certainly seem eager to see him lying lifeless in a pool of his own blood. The thought makes him gag.

But he doesn’t have time to stand around and try to think of a way out of this while keeping everyone involved alive. If he doesn’t act, they will, and he will pay the price for his hesitance. His back is pressed against the grimy wall that renders the alley a dead-end, dirt grinding into the once-brilliant red fabric of his jacket as he presses further back, as if trying to clip through the wall and escape unscathed.

Life is never that easy.

“If you tell us what we want to know, kid, you’ll get out of here alive,” the leader, a burly man with a coarse beard and shaggy brown hair, snarls as he stalks closer. Edward bites his tongue, wanting nothing more than to shout obscenities at the group of men, but he values his life more than petty insults and unpleasantries.

“I already told you: I don’t know what you’re talking about,” the teen spits, glaring at the man with fire in his golden eyes. They’ve been rambling about some sort of government mission that Edward has never heard of before since they spotted and pursued him roughly an hour ago. He was tired; if the mission did exist, he was not of a high enough rank to be in the know about it. Why couldn’t these bastards get that through their thick skulls?!

“Bullshit!” That’s all the warning Edward is given before the man lunges at him, brandishing a knife that, had Edward been a millisecond slower in dodging, would have sliced his throat. He blindly kicks out with his automail leg, inwardly cheering as it makes contact with the leader’s shin. The man crumples, but there is no time to celebrate.

The rest of the lackeys rush forward, each holding a weapon of his own, all intending to take the life of the Fullmetal Alchemist. There’s too many to fight individually; he hates to admit it, but he’s outmatched here.

He sees the leader getting to his feet in his peripheral, and curses quietly to himself. There’s no way he’s going to get out of this one without staining his hands red, he realizes.

He doesn’t want to kill, he’d rather do anything else than take the life of another human being. Death already plagues him, and yet, as fate would have it, if he wants to survive this, he will have to be the one causing deaths today.

“Dammit,” he whispers, narrowly avoiding a brass knuckle to the face. He claps and slams his hands onto the ground, creating a wave that pushes the gang back enough to give him time to transmute his metal arm into its signature blade.  

“Look, just leave me alone, okay?! I’ve never heard of that mission in my whole entire life! I have no clue what you’re talking about!” Edward tries to reason. He knows it’s useless. This anti-military group, once they truly realize he has no information that is of use to them, will make quick work of disposing of him and moving on to find someone who does possess the information they’re after.

Edward Elric can’t afford to die today, but he does not wish to play their games any longer, either.

“I don’t appreciate you wasting our time, little alchemist.” Edward feels a sharp pain in his left arm and screams, grasping at it with his right. He sees blood leaking through his metal fingers and prays to a God he doesn’t believe in that they didn’t hit an artery.

“Kill him.”

The first two men charge at him, short swords raised and ready to hack away at him until he is in pieces on the asphalt. Edward drops and slides between the legs of the man directly in front of him, using his own blade to slash at the backs of the men’s knees.

Never before did he think he would be relieved to hear a grown man screaming in agony. His satisfaction quickly turns into disgust with himself for even thinking such a thing, but he has no time to think about that.

There’s more men rushing him. He’s completely surrounded. Another gunshot rings through the air, and Edward screams once again as he feels the bullet enter his thigh.

He’ll die here if he doesn’t do something, and quickly. He has to disarm the men at the least. But there are so many; by the time he manages to disarm one of them, a bullet could very well find a home in his skull.

“Looks like this is the end of the road for you, little alchemist. I-”

In a burst of anger and adrenaline, Edward slugs the man on his left with his automail arm, and knocks the unconscious man’s head against another man’s to knock him out as well. He ducks just as a gunshot fires, and the man behind him falls to the ground, clutching his chest as he begins to choke on his own blood.

“You little shit!” The man with the gun yells. Edward sees red.

“Stop calling me little, fucker!” He roars, slashing at the hand holding the weapon with his blade, hearing more than feeling the bones in the man’s wrist crunch with the force.

All that stands between him and freedom now is the leader of this small organization. The man looms over Edward, fixing him with an icy glare. Slowly, without taking his eyes off the teen, he reaches in his pocket to grab his own gun.

The man takes his aim, and Edward tries the same trick as last time, only to get caught. The man grabs his wrist and shoves Edward to the ground. His head cracks against the hard surface, and his vision goes black as a searing headache presents itself, stealing all his attention for a brief moment.

I won’t give up now, I can’t die here! I can’t!

Edward opens his eyes and glares with blurry vision at the man standing above him.

The man smiles, a feral look taking over his features, as he leans down over Edward, snarling all sorts of threats that the battered teen cannot comprehend.

The only thing the blond understands in this moment is danger, so he swings his metal leg upwards and kicks the man in the jaw, sending him reeling backwards. Before he can get up, Edward scrambles for the gun the man dropped and sits on the man’s chest, flesh knee digging into his dominant arm so he can’t use it. He stretches his automail leg over the other arm--it feels too stiff to bend right after that kick, he must have knocked something out of place--and prays that the weight of the metal alone will be enough to pin it down.

Edward points the gun at the man’s head. The cool metal makes an indent in his forehead.

“B-bastard,” Edward says. He doesn’t realize he’s crying until he hears the shake in his voice. “You fucking asshole. I won’t let you kill anyone just because you didn’t get your way. I won’t let myself die for your stupid plans.”

“Child, are you not prepared to kill me right now? You have a gun pointed at my head. You’re going to do the same thing you just told me you would not let me do.” The man’s eyes are bright, wild mirth dancing in them. “You’re going to become the very thing you despise!”

“No!” Edward shouts. “No, I’m not! I’m-I-This is-”

“No different. You’re about to become a killer, little alchemist.”

“Shut up!” Edward’s voice cracks as he cries out. “Shut up!”

“What will you do next? What will you do when you become a killer, Edward Elric?”

“I’m not! I won’t be a killer, I won’t, shut up! This is your fault, this is all your fault! ”

“If you pull that trigger, it will be your own choice. No one’s fault but your own.”

“Stop it! Stop fucking talking, shut your goddamn mouth!” Edward screams. The safety of the gun clicks off, and the man grins widely, seemingly begging the blond to shoot.

Before Edward has the courage to pull the trigger, the man pulls another gun from his pocket, and presses it against the blond’s temple. When had he wriggled his arm out from under Edward’s leg? The blond isn’t sure. He feels his blood freeze.

“ Fullmetal! ” A deep voice calls to him at the same time another gunshot rips through the air. Edward squeezes his eyes shut, paralyzed with fear that he will never open them again. Something warm and wet splatters on his face. This is it; he hesitated, and now he’s dead. All because he could not kill one man, a man who was hellbent on seeing him dead.

“Fullmetal?” The voice calls again. It’s familiar, he’s heard that voice tease him many times, but he’s never heard it so full of concern. Is he on his way to heaven or hell or wherever dead souls go when they leave this earth? He doesn't know, but he tries calling out to the voice anyway, clinging to a small hope that there is something beyond darkness after the end of a life.

“Colonel..?” Edward tries to open his eyes, but the warm liquid is preventing it. “Colonel-!”

“Go to him,” another voice says. It sounds like Lieutenant Hawkeye. “The rest of us can take care of this.”

“Colonel,” Edward tries again, not able to keep the fear out of his voice.

“Hey, Ed, I’m right here.” A hand rests on his flesh shoulder, the other reaching to wipe the liquid away from his eyes. “You can open your eyes now, Ed.” Open his eyes…? Then, he truly is alive, he realizes as he takes in the warmth of the Colonel's hands and the clarity of his voice.

Slowly, he does. The sight makes him scream, shoving and kicking to get away.

His assailant was dead, a bullet hole in his head and his blood splattered everywhere. On his clothes, on Edward's clothes, even on the Colonel's hands. He recalls a warm liquid preventing him from opening his eyes mere seconds before, stomach lurching as he comes to the conclusion that it is this man's blood that is splattered on his face.

“Ed! Ed-- look at me, okay? Look at me.” Roy moves into his line of sight, holding Edward’s face in his hands to keep him focused on Roy and Roy alone. He gently pulls Edward off the dead man, trying to get him as far from the corpse as possible.

“No, no! Get away from me!” Edward screams, his grip on the gun tightening. He has no idea where it’s pointed, but he accidentally pulls the trigger. An anguished wail cuts through the air, the sound ringing in his ears but he does not realize that it’s coming from him.

“Edward!” Roy says, panicked. “Ed, give me the gun. Please, you’ll hurt yourself.”

“I killed him!” Edward cries, his tears mixing with the man’s blood as they stream down his cheeks. “I killed a man, Colonel, I broke the one promise I made to myself, I- how will I face Al? I can’t, I don’t deserve to look at him! I-”

“Ed, no-”

“I killed him.”

Roy can’t take the gun away from the distraught teen before he raises it to his head.

“Edward Elric! I order you to put down that gun and listen to me!” Roy commands. The boy looks at him, his eyes dull and broken and horrified, silently begging for an end to this misery.

Roy realizes with a start that his own eyes looked the same way in Ishval. He’d prayed he’d never have to see Edward look at him with those eyes--the eyes of a killer.

Before he has time to think any further on it, Roy pulls the boy into a hug, one hand on the back of his head to guide it into the crook of his neck. He feels the stickiness of blood and tears soaking into his clothing and skin, but he ignores it.

Edward weeps, arm falling and dropping the gun as Roy holds him tighter. He cries like a small child. Roy’s heart shatters.

“Shh, Ed, you’re okay. It’s okay. You’re safe, you’re okay. I promise,” Roy soothes, babbling nonsense in hopes that his voice will calm the crying child in his arms. It’s easy to forget, what with Edward being in the military and going on dangerous missions often, but in this instance Roy sees him as the child he truly is. He's so young, yet already so wounded by the world. This isn't fair.

“I killed him, he’s-he’s dead and I killed him,” Edward repeats, a miserable mantra. Roy pulls back to hold Edward at arm’s length, and gives him a stern look. He’s scared out of his mind, and for what reason?

“Edward, you didn’t shoot that gun. It wasn’t your bullet that killed him-- Lieutenant Hawkeye shot him, so that he would not shoot you first. You didn’t kill anyone, Ed. You’re not a killer. Whatever happened here, it isn’t your fault. You were only protecting yourself. And you didn’t kill anyone in the process.”

“B-but, he’s. He’s dead!” Edward cries, a wave of fresh tears flowing from his glassy, red-rimmed eyes.

“That isn’t your fault. If the Lieutenant hadn’t killed him, he would have killed you. And we simply could not allow him to kill a member of our squad.”

Edward is silent for a moment, before burying his face in Roy’s jacket once more, crawling back into his superior officer’s embrace.

“Sir. We’ve apprehended all the criminals. Should we send for an ambulance for Edward?” Riza asks. Concern flickers in her eyes as she awaits a response. Roy nods.

“Very well. We will take the criminals to the station. Will you be alright?”

Roy nods once more, and his team parts ways with the two alchemists.

“Ed? An ambulance is coming to take you to the hospital, okay?”

“D-don’t leave me. Please,” Edward begs quietly. Roy’s heart breaks further; Edward never wanted to be around him, and here he is begging Roy not to abandon him.

“Of course. I’ll stay right by your side,” Roy agrees.

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

It isn’t much longer until the ambulance arrives, and, true to his word, Roy rides in the back next to Edward. He accompanies him up until they take the boy into surgery to remove the bullets and clean up his wounds.

When he’s out of surgery, Roy is the first in the boy’s room, sitting right by his bedside until he wakes.

Edward is disoriented when he comes to, confusion clouding his eyes as he scans the room. “What happened?”

“You got in a pretty bad fight, and we had to take you to the hospital,” Roy explains with a shrug. Best not to overwhelm the boy so soon after he’s just woken up.

“Why are you here?” Edward asks, skeptical.

“You asked me not to leave.” The simple explanation is all it takes for Edward to remember everything that had occured in that blasted alleyway.

“So… I didn’t kill him?” Edward asks hesitantly, wanting to be positively sure.

“You did not.”

The two alchemists are quiet for quite some time, the only sounds being the birds chirping outside the window and the drip of Edward’s IV.

Finally, the blond speaks up. “I’m sorry,” he whispers. The words sound foreign to Roy, coming from Edward.

“There’s nothing to apologize for,” Roy assures the boy.

“I ruined your jacket and had a whole meltdown in front of you. I-- I almost shot myself in front of you!” Edward says defensively. “I need to apologize for that!”

“You’re not the only one to have moments of weakness, Fullmetal.” At the use of his title, Edward looks up at the colonel. “I’m just glad I was there and able to help you through it; I fear what would have happened had I not been there. And as for my jacket, well, I can always get a new one issued.”

Edward doesn’t look convinced, but he doesn’t argue further, either, for which Roy is grateful.

“I did shoot that gun, though.” Roy winces at the words.

“...you did.”

“Did I hurt anyone?!” Edward asks, frantic.

“You shot yourself in the leg, but luckily, it was your automail leg, so it didn’t do any damage that can’t be fixed.”

“God, Winry’s gonna kill me,” Edward sighs. Roy hums, choosing not to comment.

“You know, Fullmetal…”

“What?”

“All of us are glad you’re okay. And I’m sorry, for not getting there earlier. For not sending someone with you on that latest mission. It was negligence on my part as your commanding officer, and it will not happen again.”

“I don’t need a babysitter, Colonel Idiot,” Edward rolls his eyes.

“I never said that. But a little protection for a while wouldn’t hurt, right?” Roy makes eye contact with the kid, silently asking him let me do this for you. I almost lost you; don’t make me have to go through that again.

Edward looks away, mumbling an ‘okay,’ and Roy knows his silent message has been received.

“Brother!” Alphonse shouts as he barges into the room. “You’re awake!”

“Al! Were you here the whole time?” Edward asks, attention drawn away from Roy and onto his brother.

“Mr. Havoc called me and told me you were in the hospital, and I rushed over as fast as I could. Oh, brother, I’m so glad you’re okay!”

“Me too, Al. Me too.”

Roy watches the brothers, a faint trace of a fond smile on his lips. He stands from his chair, alerting the two boys to his presence once more.

“I’ll be on my way, then. Get better soon, Fullmetal.” Roy raises his hand in a wave as he strides towards the door.

Just as he reaches for the handle, Edward’s voice grinds his movements to a halt. “Colonel?”

Roy looks over his shoulder at his subordinate. “Yes?”

“...thank you,” Edward says quietly, bangs hanging over his face to hide his embarrassment.

Roy resists the urge to walk back over to Edward’s bedside and ruffle the kid’s tangled, golden mop of hair. Instead, he allows a small, genuine smile to grace his features as he looks back at Edward. “No problem, kid.” With that, he turns the doorknob and exits the hospital room, trusting Alphonse to keep his brother safe.