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c: edward elric

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Who: Edward and Alphonse Elric
When: Friday April 20th
Where: 1649 Albright Lane
What: Some talks need to be had
Warnings: Possible strong language, talk of death and general Mayfield horror

After that bombshell had been dropped on him by Major General Armstrong, Al had been avoiding Ed. It wasn't as though he even noticed he was doing it at first, just a subconscious change in his routine to make sure he walked to school and home at a different time than his brother. He didn't blame Ed for what he had done, he knew it wasn't his fault, but he didn't know how to face him.

How could he keep it a secret that he knew? But how could he bring it up and hurt Ed? There was no good way around this and every time he thought on it, it almost made him cry. He was angry at the town... no, furious would be a more accurate descriptor. It had taken one of the Elric's most prized morals and trampled all over it, laughed in the face of their resolve and hurt a dear friend in the process.

It had been late into the night when he realised it couldn't go on like this. Maybe it would be hard to talk to Ed about it, but until he did then he would be dwelling instead of moving forwards as they always vowed to do. So he had got up early, just about six am, and jogged through the pre-dawn to 1649 Albright Lane, hoping to catch Ed before their-- before the drone wearing their mother's face woke up.

Knock knock, Brother.

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For a moment Ed is very, very quiet. All he can hear is the sound of his own staggered breathing, the blood pounding in his ears.

Would Al ever be able to look at him the same way if Ed told him what happened? It wasn't Ed's fault. It wasn't something he ever wanted to do. It made him sick just thinking about it. But he still hurt Hawkeye. He still.... he still killed someone.

"It happened a little less than a year ago. It's been a long time and..."

He shakes his head, looking away. "Look, I don't want to add anything else to the hell you've already been through here."

Al thought that his heart was about to drown out the sound of Ed's words, it was beating so hard when his brother finally started to talk. He can't deny that he is terrified of hearing this, sick to his stomach at even the idea, let alone the details. But he wouldn't flinch from it, he'd pry it out of Ed one way or another... because however scared he was of this, he'd face fears a thousand times greater for his big brother.

But then he stopped barely a few words in... Al could see the guilt and unsure distress rolling off Ed in palpable waves. It was painful to see, he wanted to ease it away and bring back his brother's infectious huge grin. But he had started this topic of his own volition, he had known it would be distressing for both of them, and he wasn't going to back down just because the going got tough. Neither was he about to shout at Ed, that wasn't how he usually did things and it would only end in him getting shouted back at anyway. Instead he shifted to sit next to Ed properly, close enough that their knees were touching.

"When I had my armour body, I couldn't do anything to express how I was feeling. I couldn't smile, or frown, or cry... and that was the worse one. Even when it hurt so bad after trying to bring Mom back, or when you were so hurt, I couldn't cry. But I could listen to you cry, and when you had a nightmare or the sadness got too much, I could sit with you and help. You were always protecting me, even when you were so badly hurt that you couldn't get out of bed, and I couldn't do anything for you but be there. So... even if I couldn't cry when it hurt, because you let me share your tears and help that way, it eased the pain in me too."

Turning his head to look Ed dead in the face, his eyes blazing with determination and his jaw set stubbornly, he swallowed back the tears threatening to fall fiercely.

"And maybe I can cry for myself now, but I don't ever want to stop listening to you cry when you need to either. I know it hurts, and I can't imagine what the pain must have felt, but you can tell me and maybe it will help ease it a little bit. And when you've finished crying, we can move forwards together, okay?"

Ed ducks his head down, staring pointedly at his shoes. He's hesitant to speak, afraid. Al's words rip at him. He knows it wasn't intentional, knows he honestly doesn't mean any harm by them, but hearing that... hearing him say how hard it was to not be able to cry still hurts. Ed never complained about the nightmares he had. Never whined when he got hurt (when he got seriously hurt anyway. Whining when Winry threw a wrench at him was an entirely different story), never said a word about how much pain he was in when he was walking around with two broken ribs. He never complained because... because he had no right to. Not when his brother couldn't cry, couldn't smile or frown, couldn't sleep or dream, couldn't feel pain. Ed still had a body. He could still feel. Al couldn't.

It didn't mean that he never cried in front of him, that he never showed that he was in pain because that would be impossible. But being hurt and looking like complete and utter shit is very different from complaining about it on top of it all.

His voice strains and shakes when he finally speaks. "I need to know what General Armstrong told you, Al. Please."

Al hated that about Ed, it was one of the only things that he truly disliked about his big brother. To feel such guilt over putting him in the armour was... wrong, it was wrong on every level that something could be wrong. He shouldn't feel guilty for it, he should be proud of what he had done. He had sacrificed a huge part of himself to save Al's life - even bound to the armour, even unable to do so much that he had once taken for granted, even unsure if the body would reject his soul... he was still alive. That Ed couldn't see that always tore right through Al, and made him want to shake his brother until he saw what an idiot he'd been.

Exhaling shakily, he nodded and wrapped his arms around himself, trying to remember exactly what had been said. He knows it wasn't much, he wasn't able to stand listening to the dispassionate delivery of the news from the Briggs commander.

"She said you had been droned and Lust deliberately guided you to Lieutenant Hawkeye so that you'd hurt her. And she said that you did..."

"That's... that's not entirely true."

His shoulders sank, his eyes still fixed on the floor. He couldn't look up, couldn't meet Al's eyes. Ed had been trying to put this behind him, to pretend that it didn't hurt, to pretend that the thought of it didn't make him feel sick. But it did. It did hurt. It did make him feel sick. It made him furious, made his breath catch in his chest, made every muscle in his body tense.

"It was a few weeks after I got here. The milkman was running the town and he instated this law that every house was required to drink the milk delivered to them. It didn't matter who drank it, as long as someone did, but the effect it had on that person was... it was horrible. Some people were poisoned, some suffered from hallucinations. A few people found themselves swallowing razor blades so there wasn't really a whole lot of incentive to actually drink the stuff."

Ed took a deep breath, taking a moment to calm his nerves as best he could, to keep the shake out of his voice. "But if no one drank it, the entire house would end up droned. It wasn't... it wasn't a normal droning though. It made you hunt down anyone who 'disobeyed the law' and... and kill them."

His throat felt tight and he swallowed hard to get rid of the lump that was starting to settle in the back of his throat. "Lust and I were both droned. She didn't lead me to anyone, we went... we went together. I didn't... I never laid a hand on Lieutenant Hawkeye, but Lust... she did and I -- ."

Hurt, fear, anger and disgust laced his words. His voice strained painfully and he cut himself short in an attempt to hold back his tears. It worked for the most part, but he couldn't keep his voice from cracking.

"-- Al, I... I just stood there. I stood there with an axe in my hand and watched. Just. Watched. With this big fucking smile on my face like watching her die was the best thing in the world. I let her die, Al. I did nothing to stop it. Nothing. And if Lust hadn't gotten to her first I... it would've been me. I would've killed her."

No...

It was almost too hard to listen to, and Al found himself with his hands balled so tightly into fists that his nails were digging uncomfortably into his palms. Anger was clear to see, written all over his face along with disgust and a deep abiding sadness. The loss of any life was a terrible thing - no matter if the person had been good or bad in life - but like this was almost worse, it was senseless.

The pain radiating from his brother was almost palpable. It was visceral and real, pulsing in every word and permeating the air so it felt thick and harder to breathe. Al's chest and eyes were burning, tears making his cheeks suspiciously damp by the time Ed had finished speaking. There were no words that could make that better, nothing could take away the memory of being forced to assist in someone else's murder. It was the worst thing that could be done to either Elric brother - neither wanted to kill, it was paramount in their world view. They would never compromise that for their own gain, let alone for fun.

It took a lot of effort to force his hands to uncurl from the fists they were in, but eventually Al was reaching out shaking fingers towards Ed. Curling in his shirt, tight and unyielding, Al pulled his big brother into a crushing hug. Maybe there weren't words that could make it better, but Al could still be here for him. He could be a rock while he cried and his arms could reassure Ed that he was still loved no matter what had happened.

"...Brother."

He wraps his arms around his little brother, burying his face against his shoulder. Ed didn't cry after it happened. It was all so surreal. He remembered it so clearly, every single detail, and the pain he had felt was very, very real, but he still felt... detached from it all. It still hurt, it never really stopped hurting if he was going to be honest with himself, but even after it happened he never cried. Not once. He distanced himself from it because he was afraid to face it.

But right now? Right now he had no choice. Al was sitting here, his face wet with tears as he held him tightly in his arms and... and it hurt. Hearing the sound of Al's voice -- small and shaking, each syllable straining -- made it hit home all at once.

His throat feels like it's going to close and he finds it nearly impossible to breathe properly. Each breath is staggered and painful, hitching in his chest. Ed's fingers curl desperately into the fabric of Al's shirt as he chocked back a sob. "I'm sorry, Al. I'm so sorry."

Hearing Ed cry was one of the hardest things that Al ever had to hear, and every time it got harder. He hated knowing that something had cut so deep as to leave a wound that had festered for years... even though that was hardly an uncommon occurrence where Ed was concerned. That was just the type of boy he was - caring to a fault. He let people think he was a little asshole, but really there was nobody Al knew that cared as deeply and wholly as his brother did.

It was just one of the reasons he loved and idolised him as much as he did.

But even as much as he hated to hear it, even as painful as it was, he knew it was for the best. Ed needed to cry, he needed to let out his pain or else it would grow inside him until it exploded in a messy and destructive way. At least this way Al could be there for him, to hold him as tight as he could and shoulder the burden along with him.

"...it's not your fault, Brother. You would never--"

"It doesn't matter. I still... I still let her die! Lust slit her throat and I stood there and watched it. Then -- "

His chest tightened as he took in a sharp breath, gasping for air after a fresh round of sobs. He squeezes his eyes shut, his voice starting to shake as his arms tightened around his brother.

"Then I -- " He stops short, his entire body trembling at the mere thought of what he was about to say. When he finally speaks his voice is brutally raw, almost broken. Contempt and heavy guilt cling to every word. "I killed someone, Al."

He had thought nothing would hit him harder, but Ed's final whispered words seared through him like a burning blade. He felt his breath rush out of his lungs, the reply instinctive and so quiet as to be near inaudible.

"Brother, no..."

He knows it wasn't Ed's fault, but that didn't stop the blood being on his hands or the memories of the act. His fingers tighten in his big brother's clothes so tight, so ridiculously tight, burying his nose in Ed's hair.

Ed seemed to almost sink into himself and at that moment he felt (and most likely looked) smaller than he'd ever been. Stumbling over broken apologies was the most he could do. He couldn't move, could barely breathe. The only thing keeping him in one piece right now was Al.

No matter the reason, the blood was on his hands, he was responsible for taking someone's life. And like a coward he tried to run from it.

Edited 2012-05-17 01:48 (UTC)

It hurt to hear Ed crying like this, so hurt and upset and scared, but maybe it was for the best. If he could get it all out now, then it wouldn't be poisoning him inside any more. And it's obvious that's what it has been doing all this time. Al can't imagine the pain of holding that inside for so long, the guilt of actually having done it in the first place.

His arms tighten around his brother, fingers curled in Ed's clothing and refusing to let go no matter what. He's right here, brother, let it out.

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