Fullmetal Alchemist Fan Fiction ❯ Descent ❯ Doubts ( Chapter 40 )

 

 

Descent

 

Chapter Forty

 

Doubts

 

 

Ed stuffed his hands into his coat pockets and glanced around warily as he moved through the pub. He was getting odd looks from some of the people at the tables, and suddenly he wished he was wearing his uniform. While the black pants, white button-up shirt, and long black coat made him look more mature than his old style, he still had a youthful face, and, despite the fact that he'd grown recently—and was still growing—he still looked too short to be two days away from eighteen.

 

He really hated the damn uniform sometimes, but it did give him more credibility, and less people looked at him as if he were a kid. He'd almost worn it today, just for that reason, but he'd wanted to just be himself right now— just wanted to be someone in the crowd.

 

The uniform marked him, made him different, but it wasn't just that. With his youth and his size, the rank he displayed on his shoulders almost seemed fake, and at that point just about everyone knew who he was, because there was only one person like him in the military.

 

Not that many people hadn't known him on sight before. His leather pants and long red coat had almost become something of a trademark for him. Ed was sure he could probably get someone to make him another coat since he was now too big for his other one, but the only reason he'd been able to go so long without wearing the military uniform was because they didn't make one his size. He wouldn't be able to get away with it now...

 

He sighed and shook his head at himself. There was no point thinking about that now. If he wanted to be respected in the military, then he'd have to wear the uniform.

 

Ed scowled slightly.

 

And if he didn't want to have his adulthood questioned, he should have worn the damn thing here, he thought—his mind going back to the original gripe about the uniform. It was a fucking bar. Of course people were going to stare at him and think he was too young to be here... what the hell had he been thinking?

 

Ed shrugged his shoulders, trying to relieve some tension, and gave challenging glares to those who were looking at him. He knew he didn't need to feel defensive, but he did. He was an adult. He had every right to be here.

 

When he got to the counter, Ed sat on one of the stools and looked dully at all the bottles. Why was he even here? He wasn't much of a drinker, so what was the point of this? Besides, Roy had a wide assortment of different liquors; if he wanted to drink, why waste his money here?

 

“You're looking a little down,” a pleasant female voice said, and Ed looked up to see a woman looking at him from behind the counter. He knew she was probably only trying to be friendly, and that that was her job, but he really didn't feel like talking.

 

He shrugged and said, “Are you the bartender?” The last time he'd been to this place with Roy, there had been a man behind the counter.

 

“That's right,” she said, then gave him a considering stare.

 

Ed rolled his eyes. “I'm legal in case you're wondering,” he growled irritably, thinking he definitely should have worn the uniform.

 

“Didn't even cross my mind,” she said with a smile, and he nearly rolled his eyes again at the obvious lie. “So what can I get for you?”

 

“Amaretto Sour,” he replied instantly. It was the only alcoholic drink he'd had that he liked. Maybe that was why he was here instead of delving through the kitchen at home. He had no idea how to make one...

 

She smiled at him again, and nodded before wandering off to make the drink. Pulling out a cigarette, Ed lit it and took a drag as he watched her make the drink. It looked easy enough, and Ed made a mental note to try it at home. When she brought it back, Ed dug in his pocket and pulled out a bill that was twice the amount of the drink and gave it to her, muttering for her to keep the rest.

 

With a sigh, Ed licked a little of the sugar from the rim and took a small drink. He'd spent the evening yesterday with Gracia and Elysia. In a way, it had been so heartbreaking to watch them, and he could almost envision Hughes there with them, yet he wasn't there...

 

Hughes dying had been hard on him, and he'd been hurt and outraged that it had happened. He'd always felt so sad for Elysia because he knew the pain of having a loved parent die, yet this was the first time he'd been able to see the situation from Gracia's point of view; and for some reason, it hurt that much more...

 

Ed took a slow drag from the cigarette and let the smoke out slowly through his nose. He'd stayed there last night. Gracia had offered him the couch, and he'd taken it without a second thought. The idea of returning to the empty apartment held no joy for him, and he was glad to avoid it at least for a small while.

 

He'd spent the morning with them too, and would have stayed longer, but didn't want to overstay his welcome. He'd gone home and taken enough time to shower and change before grabbing the chess set and heading to the hospital.

 

He'd spent most of the day playing chess and talking with Fuery. They talked about the game, and what Fuery could expect when he returned to work. It was one of the first things out of Fuery's mouth when Ed had walked into the room.

 

`They're going to release me in a couple of days!' he'd exclaimed, and Ed had responded enthusiastically at first, but when he saw the fear and dread in the man's eyes, Ed realized that maybe this wasn't such a good thing for Fuery.

 

And, sure enough, as they'd talked, Ed had found out just how scared the man was. It was heartbreaking in a way, and Ed didn't have the heart to leave the hospital until he was kicked out by the nurses. Of course, if he'd been truthful to himself, he would have admitted that it was partially because he didn't want to go home...

 

Ed took a drink and stared dully down at the glass. He'd only been home long enough to put the game away, then he'd gone out again. He'd gone to the train station and sat on one of the benches, thinking of Al and wondering what would happen if he simply boarded a train and went back. Forget this mess with the military and just go live the quiet life in Rizembool... He'd been sorely tempted, but he hadn't contacted Al in months and truthfully he was afraid to face what had happened the night he'd left...

 

At that, Ed had tried to think of something else, and realized that he'd unconsciously picked a bench near where he'd first met up with Roy in Central all those years ago. He saw that scene over and over in his mind. A young and angry him, shouting that he was going to take the exam; and an overly smug Lieutenant Colonel Mustang walking away from him...

 

It hurt... thinking of Roy... almost as much, if not more, than thinking of Al... And when he hadn't been able to take the memories anymore, Ed had wandered around for a while more, until he found himself at the pub he and Roy had been at the night they'd gotten into that huge fight.

 

Ed took another drink and sighed.

 

And, that's where he was now. I'm just stalling... he thought, looking down at his almost empty glass and lighting up a new cigarette. Sooner or later, he'd have to go back to the apartment and he'd have to deal with the fact that Roy wasn't there... Roy was gone, and Ed was alone with his stupidity and confusion.

 

Emptying his glass, Ed motioned for the woman and asked for another. Stalling... stalling... stalling...

 

Ed took an angry drag off the cigarette. He should have stayed in touch. He shouldn't have left so quickly. He should have worked things out with Roy before he left. He shouldn't have been so defensive and proud... So many things that he should or shouldn't have done, but none of them mattered now.

 

And if Roy was alive? If Roy came back safe and sound, then what? Ed slipped the woman more money when she brought him the drink, then took a sip. Havoc said that Roy had said that he loved him, but what if Roy had simply been delusional? What if he hadn't meant it? He couldn't have been in his right mind to have said it where others could hear, even if it was true... but Havoc had said that Roy had thought Hawkeye was him...

 

Ed licked absentmindedly at the sugar and took another drink. He was starting to get a bit of a buzz, nothing big, but he was aware that the alcohol was affecting him a bit. Nothing to worry about though, he thought as he took another drink. Maybe, if he was lucky, he'd drink enough that he'd just pass out when he got home and not have to worry about being alone...

 

What am I thinking? Ed wondered, appalled at himself. Alcohol wasn't going to solve his problems; if anything, it was only helping him avoid everything... But then, that was sort of what he was going for right now...

 

I'm such a coward... Ed thought, taking a deep drink. He was afraid of going back and being alone... afraid that Roy was really dead... but he was also afraid of Roy being alive and having to face him again. Roy been so angry when he'd left, and that was still hanging over Ed's head, and this whole love thing...

 

What was love? What if he didn't love Roy? What if he only really liked him? And what if he did love Roy, what then? It wasn't as if they could be like normal people and get married and have kids... They'd always have to hide it. They'd never be able to have a normal life...

 

Ed took another deep drink. Why couldn't anything he did be normal? What the fuck was wrong with him? I'm a coward, that's what's wrong with me... he thought darkly. If he wasn't a coward, then why couldn't he figure out how he felt about Roy? Why was he afraid to go back to the apartment? And why couldn't he make himself call Al... He swallowed hard at the thought of his brother, then downed the rest of the drink before motioning to the woman again.

 

“Do you have anything stronger than this?” he asked, then added, “Something that doesn't taste like shit?” When she frowned, he quickly said, “I'm not saying this tasted like shit, this was really good, eh...” He tried to think quickly, but his brain seemed a little fuzzy and it was taking him longer than usual to come up with exactly what he wanted to say. He just didn't want to be served anything like what Roy usually drank... “Can you give me something stronger that tastes just as good as this?” he finally settled on.

 

She seemed to consider him for a moment, then asked, “How are you getting home tonight?”

 

He blinked. “What?” What kind of a question was that? When she continued to look at him, he said, “Walking. Why?”

 

“Well, you've already had two drinks, and I think if I gave you anything stronger you might need a cab to get home,” she said, and he could see the concern in her eyes.

 

He sighed. He should probably just leave now. After all, he was already quite buzzed... “Okay, fine, then I'll take a cab home,” Ed finally muttered. He was already regretting his decision, but what did it matter anyway? It wasn't as if he had to go in to work tomorrow...

 

Ed pulled out another cigarette, and eyed the pack irritably. It was almost empty... he'd just bought the damn thing! How could it be almost empty again?! He shook his head as he lit up and wondered if maybe he'd dropped some...

 

A few minutes later a tall and relatively thin glass filled with some sort of red liquid was placed in front of him. He sniffed at it, and, after taking a sip, asked, “What is it? It tastes kind of like...” He took another sip. It was sweet and didn't taste like alcohol at all. “Fruit punch...” he finished.

 

She chuckled and handed him a piece of paper. “It's called `Red Death'(1).” She motioned to the paper. “Why don't you write down your address, and I'll call a cab for you.”

 

Ed took another sip and said, a little confused, “But... I'm not ready to leave yet...”

 

“Give it about fifteen minutes.” She shook her head. “Or less. You've already been drinking so...” She trailed off, then said, “I just want to be sure you get home safely.”

 

He nodded, a little touched by her concern, then did as she asked. After she wandered off, Ed took another drink and wondered idly why Roy never drank anything that tasted this good...

 

;-;-;-;-;-;-;

 

Al slammed the book shut in frustration, and looked around the room. It was empty, but then, so was the rest of the house. Pinako had gone off on a short two day trip to pick up some parts from one of her suppliers; Russell had gone off somewhere… he'd simply said he needed to go deal with a few things and left; and Winry...

 

He opened the book and tried to read again, but wasn't able to concentrate on the words.

 

Winry had been there earlier, working on a piece of automail, then later he'd found a note that said she was going out. Just like that! She hadn't even told him where she was going! What if she got hurt? What if she ran into Archer or Kimblee?

 

Again, Al slammed the book closed, and this time he got out of his chair and walked toward the window. It was getting dark, and there was a curfew enforced by the military... Where was she? His mind filled with a variety of dreadful things that could have happened to her and he forcefully tried to push them out of his mind, but just couldn't.

 

For the first few hours after he'd found the note, he'd tried to keep himself occupied. After all, she wouldn't be gone long, right? But after a while, he'd been unable to keep his nervousness down, and finally called around. He'd found out that she'd visited a nearby friend, but she'd been gone when he called, and the friend hadn't known where she was going...

 

Running his fingers through his hair, Al plopped himself down on Pinako's rocking chair and tapped his foot impatiently. He wanted to go find her, but she might come home while he was gone... Unable to stay sitting, Al stood and began pacing. This was so frustrating! What if she was hurt? What if she needed him?! What if—

 

The sound of footsteps on the porch caught his attention before the door opened and Winry walked through the door. She was carrying a couple of sacks, and she used her hip to close the door behind her.

 

“Winry!” Al exclaimed walking toward her, with arms stretched wide. He felt an immense amount of relief at seeing her alive and well, and wanted to take her in his arms and never let her go, but his frustration didn't allow him to do that. Russell had been telling him how Winry had been saying that there was no danger and that she could do anything she wanted and nothing would happen to her. He needed to make her see that it was that kind of thinking that got people hurt... even killed...

 

His heart ached at that thought. He'd never be able to go on if he lost her... Didn't she know that? Didn't she know that she was everything to him, that he needed her more than anything else in the world?

 

She'd started walking toward the kitchen, but stopped and looked at him in surprise. “Al? What's wrong?” she asked worriedly, her lips pulled into a small frown.

 

For a moment, all he could do was stare at her, then he said, “What's wrong? What's wrong?! Are you joking?! I've been worried sick about you!”

 

“I went to visit Julia, then went to the market...” She paused, then said in a quiet and hurt voice, “I left you a note...”

 

“You should have told me where you were going!” Al insisted, taking one of the bags from her and heading toward the kitchen. For a moment there was nothing, then he heard her footsteps following him. He set his bag on the counter, and a moment later she placed hers beside it.

 

“You're not my mother, Al,” she said, an angry tinge in her voice.

 

“I'm not trying to be your mother. I'm just worried about you!” he returned, feeling frustrated at how stubborn she was acting. Couldn't she see that he only had her best interests in mind?

 

Winry made an exasperated sound, pulled a container of eggs from the bag, and headed for the fridge. “I'm fine! I came back before it got completely dark, right?”

 

“Yeah, you did,” Al said, roughly pulling some of the bag's contents out and stuffing them carelessly into a cupboard. “But still, you shouldn't go out by yourself! I want to be there to protect you!” Al tried to explain.

 

“I don't need protection,” Winry returned flatly, then shut the door to the fridge. “If anyone needs protection, it's you.” She pointed at him when she said `you', then folded her arms angrily.

 

“Me?” Al said incredulously, folding the paper sack and putting it aside.

 

“Yes, you,” she said, unfolding her arms and placing her hands on her hips. “Those jerks from the military have it out for you, but you don't even see it.”

 

Al shook his head in agitation and tapped a finger against his chest. “I can protect myself, Winry. I've been doing it for years. You're moving this away from the real point.”

 

Winry lifted a hand and flipped her hair back in obvious irritation. “And what exactly is the real point, Al?”

 

“The fact that you didn't tell me you were leaving!” he exclaimed.

 

“I wrote you a note!” she returned, her voice rising.

 

“Yes, but you didn't say where you were going,” he pointed out, not for the first time.

 

She stared at him in disbelief, then said, quietly, “I thought you trusted me...”

 

“I do trust you. That's not the—”

 

“Then why are you so upset?” she asked, looking hurt and angry.

 

“Because! You didn't tell me where you were going!” Al said in frustration. Was this such a hard concept to grasp?

 

Her face darkened and she said angrily, “You want me to tell you where I'm going?”

 

“YES!” Al exclaimed, glad that it seemed to finally be sinking into her head.

 

“Okay, fine. I'll tell you where I'm going.” She turned and headed out of the kitchen. “I'm going outside for a walk!”

 

“Winry!” Al yelled, following her to the door. “You can't go out there! It's not safe!” What if a patrol passed by? What if the house was being watched? They both knew that Archer was targeting them...

 

“What? I can't walk around my own house?” she challenged. “There's like, no one around here.” She opened the door and walked outside; and he quickly followed her and shut the door.

 

“It's almost full dark,” he pointed out as he followed her down the steps.

 

Stopping, she rounded on him and said, “Will you stop following me? I want to be alone, okay? You know, I'm my own person, Alphonse. I lived my life just fine before you came to live with us! I'm capable of taking care of myself! Or maybe you forgot that while you and Ed just decided to go roaming around the countryside, not even caring about the fact that someone just might be worried about you!”

 

He swallowed and opened his mouth, but she road over him, tears filling her voice.

 

“Did you ever call me to let me know where you were? Did you even think that maybe I might have lost sleep worrying about you guys? Even when you came to visit, you wouldn't tell me anything that was going on! How can you be such a hypocrite?!”

 

Tears trickled from her eyes, and he suddenly felt ashamed. She was right... but... What about what Russell had said...?

 

“We did it to protect you...” he said lamely.

 

“And you're the only one who can do things to protect the ones they love?” she demanded with a sob. “I told you, Archer and Kimblee... they're out to get you! If you go out with me all the time, then they might have more chances to get at you!”

 

“Winry...” Al breathed, suddenly feeling like a complete jerk. He reached out to her, but she pulled away.

 

“I just want to be alone right now...” she sobbed, and headed toward the shed.

 

His shoulders fell as he watched her go. After she disappeared into the shed, Al stepped back, sat heavily on the first step that led up to the veranda surrounding the house, and hung his head between his knees. Everything that she'd said swirled and danced in his mind, and he tried to work it all out. He didn't want to fight... he hated fighting with the ones he loved... A tear escaped his eye and he wiped it away quickly. He wasn't going to let this get to him... He just needed to think about this, that's all...

 

The faint sound of the phone ringing in the house met his ears, but he stayed where he was. He didn't feel like talking to anyone right now... Whoever it was could call back...

 

;-;-;-;-;-;-;

 

Ed collapsed on the couch. He was sooooo glad he'd taken a taxi home... He didn't feel like he was really drunk, but maybe he was... His whole body was so relaxed... It wasn't like that one time when he'd had those shots with Roy. Almost, but not as... what? Intense? Something like that... At that time, he'd barely known which way was up and which way was down. Well, whatever... He couldn't think of it right now anyway... Maybe before he'd been reeeeaaaally drunk, and now he was only drunk.

 

At that thought, Ed began to laugh in little small snorts. `Only drunk'... I'm so fucking wasted... Ed thought in amusement, then let his head roll to one side so that he could stare at the dimly lit room. This wasn't where he wanted to sleep, although he was pretty tired and a loopy combination of comfortable and lazy... He did want to sleep... just not here...

 

Flopping off the couch, Ed staggered to his feet and headed into the hallway, but instead of moving toward the bedroom, he made a detour to the bathroom. When he got to the toilet, Ed took a moment to decide if he was just going to whip it out or if he should just get undressed... Not that it mattered... not like there was any reason to get completely undressed just to take a piss...

 

Undoing his pants, Ed let them fall down to his ankles, then, when he felt the urge to throw up from the room moving, he turned and plopped down on the toilet seat, then pushed his penis down to point into the toilet bowl. He just didn't feel like doing it standing up... Besides, he felt much steadier sitting down than standing up right now, and he didn't feel as much like he was going to puke...

 

Ed kicked off his boots before standing up, and as he entered the hallway, he finally stumbled out of his boxers and pants. When he got to the bedroom doorway, Ed leaned against the frame and pulled off his shirt as well. Throwing it on the floor, he headed to the bed and fell forward onto the mattress with enough force to make himself bounce a couple times.

 

Now that, Ed though with a stupid grin at feeling the air on his skin, and thought, Feels really good... He wiggled a little, feeling the sheets against his naked body, then crawled up more on the bed and laid on his back with his arms and legs spread wide.

 

Staring up at the ceiling, Ed gripped the sheets tightly with his hands. How many times had he lain next to Roy staring up at that ceiling? How many times had he lain here looking up at the ceiling while Roy had been touching him and licking him and sucking on him...

 

Ed reached down and fondled his flaccid penis while thinking of Roy touching him, but after a few minutes, he sighed and moved his hand away. He just wasn't feeling it right now... It just wasn't coming... And really, he didn't care right now. He didn't want to give himself another hand job; he wanted to be with Roy...

 

He moaned and put his flesh arm over his eyes. I'm not thinking about you, Roy, Ed thought. I'm not thinking about you because I'm drunk. That was the whole point of it... why am I still thinking of you...? Ed turned on his side and tried to think of something else besides Roy, and when his eyes landed on the telephone, he was able to do just that.

 

Al... Ed thought, then groaned. That was almost as bad as thinking about Roy! But now that he had his brother in mind, Ed couldn't seem to let him go. Why hadn't he called Al yet? Why was he being so prideful and stubborn? Hadn't he learned yet that such things only caused trouble?

 

Reaching out, Ed flopped his hand over onto the phone before picking it up and balancing it precariously on his ear. Letting go of the receiver, Ed reached over and clumsily dialed the number to the Rockbell residence, then brought his hand back to hold onto the receiver.

 

His hand shook, and his heart beat quickly. What am I doing? Ed asked himself nervously as he listened to it ring. I'm drunk and I'm calling my brother... Ed thought vaguely, answering his own question. He wished he could say that it was courage and remorse that were driving him to make the call, but really it was mostly the feeling of utter loneliness. Even if Al yelled at him, it would be better than laying here alone, right?

 

Again and again the phone rang, yet there was no answer, and the nervousness he'd been feeling turned into a sick feeling of disappointment. He'd finally gotten the courage to call—despite the fact that it had come from a bottle—and no one was answering...

 

Gently setting the receiver back in its cradle, Ed stared dully at it in bitter loneliness before closing his eyes and letting himself fall into an intoxicated sleep.

 

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1- Red Death is made with 1/2 ounce of Vodka, Southern Comfort, Amaretto, Sloe Gin, Triple Sec and 3 ounces of orange juice. Served with ice and in a Collins glass.

 

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Bleh, I really wanted to get this out sooner, but my work and school schedule have been unkind to my desire to write. Anyway, I hope it was worth the wait.

 

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