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Roy was taking a hasty sip of black, tar-like coffee when he tripped up over a pair of small shoes. Fast reflexes saved his crisp dress shirt and dark tie from being sloshed with bitter liquid, but the same couldn’t be said for the back of his hand. The hot liquid burned, leaving him to gargle out a curse with a mouthful of coffee as he flailed around the kitchen table. He thumped the mug down onto the scarred wood and side-stepped a rucksack, the toe of his shoe getting caught on the strap as he regained his footing in what looked akin to an interpretive dance.
He shook the mild sting out of his hand and caught himself by the counter, quickly reaching the original reason for hurrying about the tiny apartment. The Colonel slapped the toaster to collect the bread that had been rendered to a slab of charcoal. He hissed, his fingers pinching the brittle and burned toast, and tossed it at the small, shambling form in his peripheral.
Edward looked more asleep than awake; the kid squawked the unexpected projectile yet caught it perfectly in his automail hand. "What the hell, bastard?! I – ’’
"Eat,’’ was the Colonel’s waspish command.
As was steadily becoming the norm over the past three weeks, the apartment reeked of burned toast and cheap coffee during this tediously repetitive song and dance. Roy liked to think this morning routine would’ve run a lot smoother if Hawkeye had been here. Riza would’ve made sure breakfast and packed lunches had been prepped, alarm clocks had been set, and would’ve kept a snarky, uncooperative preteen in line.
Being shoved into the fake role of single-father to Fullmetal for an undercover mission was bad enough, yet the close quarters of their tiny apartment and isolation from the team outside of feeding back information was wearing thin. Infiltrating a prestigious school in a tiny, secluded town filled with gossip-mongers and working as a history teacher was mind numbing and claustrophobic. It didn’t matter that Roy’s true attention was on the academy’s eerily tight-knit body of staff instead of the snot-nosed teenagers he was supposed to be teaching.
One thing was for certain: undercover intelligence operations were painful.
Oddly enough, it wasn’t the pressure of being caught out that made Roy’s migraines increase. Their fake identities and stories were solid and, as far as intelligence gathering could go, their accommodations were of a higher standard than some cases he’d been forced into. No, it was other things that went beyond the scope of their assignment. Finding out a wealthy boarding school was being used to launder drug money through had been a surprise, more so given the spate of illegal drug-related deaths in the surrounding area, but no. None of that was what set Roy’s teeth on edge and temper flare.
Gathering intel for an unforeseen stint to offer names for a wider pool of suspects was the least stressful part of this entire façade. It was this – the aching monotony of domesticity - that was crushing him. It might’ve been temporary but it felt like an entire lifetime and it highlighted a glaringly obvious failure:
Roy Mustang was not built for this mundane sort of normalcy that surrounded wrangling a child on a full-time basis.
That – dealing with Edward in this entire scenario – was the hardest part. It wasn’t gathering intel. Having the twelve-year-old underfoot 24/7 was a completely different ballgame. This wasn’t a few disruptive hours of having Fullmetal give him a headache around the office. It was constant and it was new yet painfully familial. Responsibility had shifted from being an overseer that offered protection and guidance to something more… hands-on.
It was mealtimes around a cramped kitchen table. It was shoving the kid to bed at a decent hour at night and yanking him back out of it in the morning. It was pep-talks in the car and the occasional moments he had to nudge the kid awake from nightmares that were alarmingly frequent. It was grocery shopping (that also was a front of transferring scarce intel to Falman) and overhearing the whispers from locals and his new coworkers about his ‘problem child’ of a son who he couldn’t control.
Failure left a sour taste on the Colonel’s tongue. He wasn’t made for parenting, even if was pseudo. It was a foreign territory that awakened an inferiority complex. And yet…yet...
"Shoes on, Ed, let’s go,’’ left Roy’s mouth without thought. He hated how natural it left him in such a short period. "If we don’t move it now, we’re going to be late for the third time this week.’’
The kid was too busy spitting out a mouthful of charcoal into the trash can, the barely eaten burned toast quickly joining the spat-out rejection.
Roy rolled his eyes and snatched up his keys from the counter on his way toward the apartment door. He wasted no time in yanking on some gray tweed monstrosity of a blazer he wore to fit into his role. Ed was grumbling and shuffling about, drinking water from the kitchen tap as Roy reached into the breast pocket of his suit jacket. The pair of chunky-framed glasses were what this Roy wore, and he made the mistake of looking up after putting them on.
The mirror above the spindly telephone table did a perfect job of reflecting back a stranger. Black hair slicked back, glasses perched on his nose, and a smattering of stubble on his face wasn’t a drastic change, yet most disguises were simple alterations. Edward didn’t think that way, though. The kid had wrinkled his nose at the glasses and thin facial hair. All in all, the minor change in style when coupled with the suit and tie that wasn’t his typical attire, he felt lacking.
He averted his eyes and grabbed the leather satchel that contained his lesson plans and assignments, his focus landing on the crumpled heap of dark green fabric on the floor. It hadn’t fallen off one of the hooks by the door. The small blazer with an embroidered school crest on the breast had been tossed there, like the rucksack at the dining table, without a care in the world.
Little things like this were more ammunition for gossip.
A crinkled blazer, a poor attitude: it all added up. Anything and everything that was different was twisted into something inferior that reflected back onto Roy being a poor parent. He hadn't experienced this level of self-consciousness since his early twenties, and it made his blood boil.
He told himself it was all part of their undercover façade. A single father and an incredibly intelligent son seeking a new start in a strict and well-to-do school. In reality, the part where Roy was struggling to keep Edward in line over basic things like hanging up his uniform or not being a nuisance in classes was not an act. He pulled a face at all, feeling the burn at the pitying or irked comments he had overheard over the past few weeks regarding him and his ‘son’.
Snatching up Ed's fallen blazer, Roy gave it a shake and eyed it for creases. It didn’t look too bad but the same couldn’t be said for who was going to wear it. Edward’s hair was frizzy, his eyes showing the sign of another sleepless night, and the tails of his shirt were poking out of the uniform sweater. The kid ambled over, shoes on and rucksack dragging across the floor.
Instinctively, Roy reached out to straighten out the boy's wonky collar and loose tie.
"Tuck your shirt in,’’ he growled under his breath. ‘‘Can you at least try and look the part?
Edward slapped away his hand. "Urgh. Gerroff, will you!?’’
"You look as if you’ve been hauled through a hedge backwards.’’
"I don’t. I look fine,’’ was the boy’s grumpy reply. He tugged at the knot of his necktie and scowled up at him. "Unlike you . It’s weird seeing you like that. With glasses and…’’ he made a vague motion towards his jaw "…scratchy stuff. ’’
"Stubble,’’ Roy muttered.
"Yeah, that. You look like you're gonna steal kids, not teach 'em. When are you gonna shave it off?’’
If Roy had been in a better mood, he might’ve found Fullmetal’s comments amusing. After all, it wasn’t the first time the kid had squinted at him with a strange mix of suspicion and displeasure at the spectacles and barely-there facial hair. He ignored that needling question and brushed a hand over the uniform blazer, feeling loose pens and pencils in the pockets, and something that crinkled. The slither of pinkish paper peeking out of an outer pocket was noticeable, and Roy’s jaw clenched.
"Besides,’’ Edward continued with a whine. "You should be grateful I’ve put up with this shit for this long, Mustang. Can’t we call it quits yet? It’s been three weeks!’’
"I did inform you this assignment could last a month or more.’’
"Urgh. All b’cos you wanted to be a kiss ass and get a promotion takin’ on this dumb case!’’
Roy felt his brow twitch at that. That hadn’t been the case at all. What had happened was that he’d been the only officer in all of the military who had a child as a subordinate. When Grumman handed Roy the file, he had stated that it had been recommended for Fullmetal to accompany another undercover agent… and Roy had drawn the short straw when it came to partaking in this farce.
"And we know it’s that old bat of a Headmistress running the show,’’ Ed huffily added. "What's her name again? Campbell? Well, it is her and the creepy head of the chemistry department, Professor. White. She’s launderin’ the money through the school and he’s cookin’ up the drugs that are killin’ people off. It’s simple!’’
"You know we require some form of solid evidence before we officially point fingers,’’ Roy murmured, mildly distracted. He was too busy fishing out the pink slip of crumpled paper. It was similar to the stack of notes he had on his own desk at the academy that he had yet to use. Edward, however, seemed to be collecting three of these a week much to his frustration.
"I heard White keeps a secret lab in the basement. Maybe I can go look and…’’ Ed’s voice trailed off. "Uh. Oh, yeah. I was meant to give that to you last night.’’
Roy didn’t have to look up to know his discovery had captured Ed’s attention. Uh-Oh, indeed, he thought bitterly. The pink slip was a disciplinary note and, a quick glimpse at Ed’s scrunched-up expression told him it wasn’t going to be something as minor as lateness to a class. No, it seemed that Edward didn’t do things by half. In regards to these little behavior reports, Inappropriate Language was ticked constantly alongside Disrespectful to Teacher(s) and Disruptive Behavior, yet this time all three were ticked alongside a new addition.
"Fighting?’’ Roy’s tone went up in pitch. It shouldn’t have surprised him. This was the same youngest State Alchemist who racked up bills in property damage from fights, but really. This was ridiculous. "You’ve been told from the start that you are required to do one thing during this mission,’’ Roy glowered at the boy. "Fit in. Blend in. Don’t stick out or make waves! You are there to be another faceless student and report any information back to me.’’
Edward’s face bloomed red as he bristled. "I have been!’’
"Evidently, you haven’t been!’’
"I – I have!’’
"Don't lie to me.''
"I... shut up!''
It was such a weak rebuttal. Childish. Roy ignored the way the boy’s voice crackled and shook his head. "This – ’’ Roy raised the pink slip in his hand " – is one of many examples of you not doing as you are told. Mrs. Anderson has written here that you were caught instigating and partaking in a fight!’’
"I didn’t start anythin’! It was – ’’
"Yes, yes. Jacob and his little gang of idiots,’’ Roy cut-in, already knowing that excuse. "Somehow they are always to blame for your inability to follow through with what is requested of you.’’
"But they… they’ve been – ’’
"What?’’ Roy pressed, unintentionally looming over the boy. "Don't lie. Tell me what have they been doing now, Edward?’’
The kid opened and closed his mouth, mimicking a fish out of water for a beat or two.
"Calling you names and goading you?’’ Roy presumed, dropping the note beside the telephone. At Ed’s red-faced look, he guessed he was on the right track. The kid looked too pissed off to get words out, and Roy took advantage of the rare moment of listening. "Welcome to the real world, pipsqueak,’’ he smarmily continued. "People will say and do things to illicit a reaction. We’ve had this talk numerous times about you controlling yourself. This assignment is the perfect way for you to practice reining yourself in – attending school and not coming home with behavioral reports is the bare minimum any normal kid can do.’’
"I’ve never been to – I – ’’
Turning on his heel, Roy tossed the blazer at the kid. "Enough, Edward. Let’s go.’’
Ed fumbled and shrugged on the item. "Wait’a second! Listen – ’’
"Enough, ’’ the older male sharply repeated.
"But…’’
"No,’’ Roy barked. He had one hand on the door handle and the other tightly gripping his satchel, three weeks’ worth of building frustration at his own inept nature at handling this kid bubbling to the surface. "It is clear you don’t care about the seriousness of this assignment given your failure to do as you are instructed. This isn’t a difficult task, Edward. All kids go to school and don’t do this. You only have to do that and – ’’
Roy silenced himself with an explosive exhale. He needed to calm down. It wasn’t wholly the kid’s fault that Roy was facing some strange surge of new emotions and thoughts.
"You’re exhausting .’’ The words poured past Roy’s tongue without permission. "It’s a small wonder your behavior doesn’t make people sick from dealing with you.’’
A soft, winded sound came from behind him.
Instinct had Roy peering over his shoulder at the noise. Edward looked as he’d squeezed the breath out of his lungs, and a trickle of regret entered Roy’s system. The words were of exasperation, not cruelty, yet seeing the kid’s raw look of hurt made Roy’s stomach twinge painfully. Those words had carried weight and hit a hidden soft spot that he hadn’t intended to target, leaving him to mentally curse and awkwardly reach out.
His hand barely skimmed Edward’s shoulder when it was harshly batted away. His dampened temper flared back to life at the sting of metal against his wrist. It only increased when a small body barged into his hip as Ed – expression shuttered and shoulders stiff – marched forward. The urge to bark a reprimand about hitting a superior officer was there, the words gliding to the tip of his tongue when he had to gulp them down.
Edward had angrily opened the apartment door, breaking their seal of privacy.
Masks and roles had to quickly be slipped on, leaving Roy to grit his teeth as the boy marched down the hall. He hastily locked up, slamming the door with more force than necessary, and followed suit. The old woman in the apartment opposite was undoubtedly peeking through the spyhole on her front door from the slight ruckus of a preteen stomping noisily. She already had the audacity in telling Roy that his ‘brat’ would soon toe the line if he used his belt.
While Roy oftentimes wanted to throttle the kid, the thought of inflicting harm of that caliber made his stomach flip with revulsion. Still, he was steadily reaching his wit’s end when it came to handling Edward in this setting. Regardless, by the time he caught up with the boy outside of the quaint apartment building, he felt less likely to explode. That said, the short car ride from their street to the green grounds of the academy was quiet and tense.
No words were exchanged as they passed the huge gates that led them past the oddly fortified high walls of the prestigious Kingswood Academy.
Roy parked their vehicle beside the sparse few cars on the sandy-colored gravel. A quick glance at his wristwatch showed that they weren’t late, yet. In two minutes they would be, but a singular minute was enough for him to patch up whatever rupture his words had accidentally created in hopes of a successful day. He cleared his throat and drummed his fingers against the steering wheel, dispelling the usual bout of nerves as he broke the heavy silence.
"Listen, kid. About before… I meant that – ’’
"Whatever,’’ Edward cut him off.
He barely parted his lips to address that nasty growl when the boy grabbed his rucksack and hopped out of the car. The door was slammed shut hard enough to make Roy wince and he was thankful this was a loaned vehicle and not his personal one. He was a man of very few joys and his expensive brandy and personal car were two of them. The Colonel counted his blessings and slid out the vehicle, collecting his satchel and taking a moment to watch Edward trudge across the grounds.
The closer Ed got to the students loitering by the main entry’s stone steps, clad in dark green blazers and respective black trousers or pleated skirts, the heavier Roy’s heart grew. Kingswood was an academy catering to thirteen to sixteen-year-olds, and Edward had been granted entry as an exception due to high test scores. Scores, Roy noted, that weren’t falsified documents like everything else. Edward was a genius in more things than alchemy. However, standing by his car, Roy hated how positively tiny Ed looked in comparison to those only a year older than him.
It hadn’t skipped his notice that this role hadn’t been an easy one for the kid. For all that Edward was a small gifted boy, he was lacking in socializing with boys or girls around his age. Fullmetal was a boy that had grown up too fast with very little interaction with fellow kids beyond the Rockbell girl and his brother, and it showed. A few teachers in the staff room had teasingly joked to him how his son needed a hobby…
"Do you make that boy study all the time, Roy? When introducing himself in my class he said he liked reading. I asked him what he had been reading – I expected poetry or some adventure novel – not the Treatise on The Great Art. What kind of child reads chemistry and physics for fun?’’
… and the student’s overheard remarks weren’t much better than the jibes from adults.
Children were less subtle than adults and their cutting remarks. Kids were cruel and liked to sniff out differences as a weakness. If Edward’s runtish height, younger age, and inability to relate to his peers via a radio show or popular adventure book hadn’t caused an issue then the automail sure did. While the automail leg had not been discovered, the automail arm certainly had; the glint of metal fingers peeking out of his uniform sleeve had garnered plenty of attention. The automail had been a source of gossip amongst the students and what had once been viewed as an intimidating weapon in the military had been rendered to an expensive and ugly prosthetic for a disabled child.
Shitty Dad.
The term came out of nowhere but summed up exactly how he felt. It wasn’t the first time he heard those two words echo in his mind, but they had never sounded so clear. Roy should’ve given the kid more slack (more reassurance, guidance and comfort) than frequent nagging and scolding. He grumbled under his breath and scrubbed a hand over his tired face, nearly knocking the glasses off his nose.
No matter how many times he told himself this parental role wasn’t real , it didn’t stop him from feeling like a useless, fumbling attempt of a piss-poor father.
" – fessor Musgrove? Yoohoo, Professor Musgrove?’’
The sing-songed voice was grating, and it took far too long for Roy clear his guilt-fogged and conflicted thoughts to realize he was being addressed. Roy Musgrove . He dragged his hand down his face, stubble catching on his palm and glasses askew, and blinked at the face of Janet Wilson, the school’s chatty redhead secretary.
"Good morning, Miss. Wilson,’’ Roy droned, unable to summon the energy for fake smiles.
She was holding a large archive box in her hands and had probably witnessed Ed’s moody display. With a smile, she propped the box on her hip and locked her own vehicle. "One of those mornings, is it?’’ Janet laughed. "I wouldn’t take it to heart, sir. I’m sure your boy will be speaking to you by second period.’’
Your boy. Roy hated how those words made warmth flutter inside of him.
"You best hurry along,’’ Janet cheerily continued. "The facility meeting is due to start shortly. You don’t want the Headmistress catching you late. She’s a stickler for that sort of thing.’’
"Ah, yes.’’ Roy paused to eye the box in her hand. "May I…?’’
"No, no. It’s okay,’’ Janet reassured, shifting the box to closer to her body. "It’s only paperwork and proposals for new subjects. Nothing heavy. You best go.’’
Roy found it odd how most mornings she came in with one or two archive boxes. Try as he might, he had yet to see what was in them. He didn’t think it was anything related to the academy. It niggled at him that something was amiss (the concept of her being one of the few part of the chain of transportation drugs nothing more than an inking) but he didn’t linger. He offered fake smile and and quickly departed in a light jog.
The day rolled on the same as the one before it.
He wouldn’t take his days sat behind his desk with Hawkeye’s ever-growing pile of paperwork for granted again. Being a teacher was more soul-sucking than being a Colonel.
His day was tedious with nothing to report. Homework was handed in, his students behaved, and the chicken served at lunch was dryer than Ishval. Overheard whispers from children as he went about his day, everything from mindless school gossip to an upper-year female being teased by her peers for her crush on ‘the new professor’ that, much to his discomfort and mild amusement, was him. Throughout it all, the only difference was that Edward ignored him in the corridors and lunch hall, giving him the cold shoulder treatment.
Roy hadn’t realized how much Ed had been gravitating towards him throughout their school days until now. Before now, the kid would’ve poked his head into Roy’s allocated classroom during his journey between classes or at lunch. At first, the frequent check-ins had concerned him that others would view it as suspicious behavior and their cover would be blown, but no. Apparently, a few members of staff had openly stated they found Edward’s clinginess adorable, albeit normal and understandable given their situation of a long-term windowed father and son.
The lines between a commander and a subordinate had never been clearly defined. Edward, given his age, had been an outlier. An exception of sorts. However, given their fake backstory and close quarters, Roy felt as if those faint lines had been obliterated into something far too paternal to be professional, blurry yet there –
The door handle to his empty classroom rattled upon being turned.
Roy perked up in his desk, the chair beneath him creaking, and felt his heart lift. The coffee he had been blankly staring down at had long grown cold, his brief respite before the lunch hour ended interrupted by a visitor. He anticipated a golden-haired boy, sullen and scowling, finally giving him the time of day, but it wasn’t. Instead, it was an plump man with more hair on his rosy, wrinkled face than his head that went by the name of Professor Bell.
"Musgrove, there you are,’’ Bell said, looking more flustered than irritable. "You’re going to want to get a move on and downstairs.’’
Something heavy pulled at Roy’s stomach. "What? Why – ’’
"Professor White is going to knock some sense into your lad before the Headmistress has a chance to expel him if you don’t get downstairs posthaste.’’
Well, that was enough to get Roy scraping back his chair with a poorly stifled curse. His legs had a mind of their own, moving at a fast pace out the room that the older man struggled to keep up with. He knew, deep down, something was going to go awry after this morning. Nothing was ever simple when Fullmetal was involved.
"Where?’’ Roy ground out.
"He’s locked himself in a bathroom by the chemistry labs.’’
The Colonel barreled forward, blood pressure rising and ears ringing. The labs were near the little ‘off-limits’ nook by the stairwell that led to the basement storage. It was an area that Roy had been informed held the spare furniture and the various supplies. Or, according to Ed, Professor White’s private laboratory that – honestly – was highly plausible.
Why couldn’t his kid behave?
Just once?
This assignment might’ve seemed like nothing but carried far more worth than handing over information to spare more lives and cut down a drug production and trafficking scheme. Completing this would also curry favor in Roy gaining his next promotion. The latter was goal he had been gunning for long before the kid entered the picture. It was starting to feel like his own plans were steadily being pushed aside since taking Ed on to assist him and his brother’s goal.
"What has he done now?’’ Roy hissed as he marched down a set of stairs. It was more a rhetorical question formed from bubbling anger, yet it was answered
"N-No idea,’’ Professor Bell panted, falling a further behind. "One of my students – you know, Benny Rashford, you have him every Monday – informed me about the hubbub in the corridor involving young Edward incurring White’s wrath. I’m not certain beyond what I’ve t-told you.’’
Roy grunted in acknowledgment and stomped off the last step and into the reception area of the academy. Janet and other admin assistants were not behind the huge desk they manned or loitered around, the door to the office they occupied wide open. When Roy’s fast-footed pace led him past the office situated behind the desk, it was empty and absent of activity. A quick glance down the corridor showed him exactly where all activity had shifted to, and it was past a few classrooms, near the end of the corridor.
The corridor itself was congested with students and staff alike. Children had spilled into the hall and the faculty were alternating between ushering them away and gawking alongside the students at the ruckus transpiring further down. His presence wasn’t immediately noticed as he wove past small bodies, gently wading past thirteen-year-olds and politely nudging gangly fifteen or sixteen year old’s aside. He caught a glimpse of one teacher – Mrs. Anderson – doing a double take at his arrival.
She appeared to say something to him yet it was lost in the din of excitable children spectating and staff failing to settle them down. The Colonel’s focus was past the tops of student’s heads and on the trio of adults at the source of the chaos. Professor White was hammering on the male bathroom door with one hand, his face puce and bulbous eyes bulging.
"Musgrove! Edward Musgrove, open this door now, boy!’’ White sounded apoplectic.
Janet’s bright red hair was easy to spot from where the secretary stood next to the hard-faced Headmistress. As for Headmistress Campbell, she was a dainty but fierce-looking woman and was nodding along to whatever Janet was saying. The Head’s entire body was trembling with what was clearly suppressed rage, her fist clutching an implement that Roy had addressed the first time he saw the well-used, thick leather strap sitting proudly atop her desk.
The sight of that frayed leather strap made something in Roy’s chest pop.
If she had so much as dared to use that on Ed…
Suddenly, eight feet between himself and the situation transpiring ahead was too far away.
"Move aside,’’ Roy ordered in a guttural tone, causing several children to flinch and go wide-eyed.
The dangerously commanding tone was foreign for Professor Roy Musgrove, but was it common for Colonel Roy Mustang. This was the standard tone of voice that kept soldiers in line; something that Roy’s undercover persona wasn’t capable of. Outside of the privacy of the apartment he shared with Ed, he had kept his rebukes as soft-spoken and bored. The two words that left his mouth carried impact, and the bodies that had been cluttering up the corridor swiftly parted.
He paid no attention to the startled squeaks and strode forward, the calloused tips of his finger and thumb rubbing together instinctively in spite of his hands being ungloved. Janet was the first to notice his arrival, her expression of poorly concealed surprise. Headmistress Campbell merely straightened up, tipping her chin upward as she attempted to regain some control over this entire situation.
"Teachers, class is meant to be in session. Return your students to their classrooms. Immediately!’’ Campbell demanded. Her eyes narrowed at Roy. "That applies to you, Professor Musgrove.’’
Of course, it did. She wanted to deal with whatever had transpired regarding Edward her way and then inform him. It was undoubtedly how she typically ran things, be it as the illustrious academy’s Headmistress or her role in illegal activities. Campbell was a woman who did as she wished and spun a web of lies or twisted truths to excuse her actions…
"Not when it involves my son,’’ Roy argued. He tried not to dwell on how easily that term rolled off his tongue. Three weeks ago, he had narrowly slipped up and said subordinate , but now referring to Edward as son was scarily second nature as passing by and as brushing the kid’s bangs out of his eyes.
Campbell glared and sniffed. "Be that as it may, we discussed upon your acceptance of the job role. You may be faculty but we shall treat Edward the same as any other student!’’
"Similar to how we discussed that, as a parent, I don’t approve of corporal punishment?’’ Roy interjected with a snap. "You assured me I would be informed before any type of physical disciplinary punishment was administered. If I find out you’ve –
Campbell sputtered indignantly. "Now, see here. The strap has been commonplace in putting many unruly children in line. Perhaps if you had a handle on your child and did some actual parenting, I would not need to step in where you have blatantly failed.’’
It stung more than it should.
Heat crept up the back of Roy’s neck and to the tips of his ears. Such scornful words had no right to offend or prick at him. He wasn’t Edward’s parent. Not really. However, like many times he felt judged and incompetent in this false role he was blindly staggering through, it was rankled him. He felt defensive and prickly, the proverbial hackles rising further from the insinuation of him being lesser.
The tumult of emotions all that created, plus the panic over why Edward had locked himself in a bathroom had him on edge.
"Edward hasn’t been disciplined,’’ Janet stepped in, appeasing and anxious. "He was caught destroying school property in a restricted area.’’
Roy shook his head. That wasn’t the point. He –
"Yet,’’ White added with a bark. "He hasn’t been disciplined yet! ’’
He snapped his attention towards Professor White. "I beg your pardon?’’
The man sneered at Roy as if his four words had said something depraved and colorful about his mother before eyeing the lingering students and staff. "What is it with this entire school’s inability to follow directions today? Did you not hear the Headmistress?’’ White bellowed. "Anderson, get your class under control and move– that goes for the rest of you! All of you: leave! ’’
With clear reluctance, the corridor cleared out. Roy didn’t feel like this was a good thing being left with a duo who were running this illegal operation and one who was possibly aware of everything. He felt oddly cornered, his fingers itching to slip on the ignition gloves in the pocket of his suit jacket. Luckily, White was more focused on continuing his frenzied actions in failing to get Edward out.
"Edward Musgrove, I won’t ask you again!’’ White kicked angrily at the door with his polished shoe. "Open now before I break it down!’’
There was a muffled but very audible reply from the other side. "F-Fuck off!’’
Hearing Edward’s voice helped keep Roy grounded. The kid sounded high-pitched and upset, but he was okay enough to be cursing. While White reached new levels of almost deranged fury, Roy grew more settled. White aggressively yanked on the handle, the set of janitorial keys rattling in a lock that didn’t work in opening the door.
"I swear. I won’t have a little snot like you ruin what we’ve – ’’ White growled.
"Walter, ’’ Campbell hissed.
Professor White caught on quickly and, with a vexed punch to the door reigned his temper in from saying what Roy presumed to be too much. The chemistry teacher tugged at his tie, loosening it, while the other scraped through his thinning hair. There was spittle clinging to the corner of his mouth as he blew out a breath a locked eyes with Roy.
"Sort it,’’ White demanded, pointing towards the bathroom door. "Get him out of there to face the consequences of his actions, Musgrove!’’
"I still don’t know exactly what he has done,’’ Roy drawled, edging towards the door.
"He went down to the basement to rummage through our science supplies,’’ Campbell informed with a huff. "Probably for malicious reasons, no doubt! In the process, Professor White and Miss Wilson caught him in the act of thieving!’’
"Ed didn’t react well to being caught and began breaking a few things,’’ Janet added.
All that made Roy pause, his mind whirling at the information. Janet sounded sincere and the story sounded so plausible for a ‘trouble marker’ of a kid to do, but it was wrong. Fullmetal was a little shit at the best of times yet every word that left their mouths pinged on his radar as a carefully spun lie. Every fiber of his being wanted to protest – and protect – but he was outnumbered and needed to not raise suspicion.
Roy needed to get him and Ed both out of here. He needed to inform Hawkeye and not raise the alarm in the process. To do all that, he needed to appease and agree.
"Listen,’’ he began softly – candidly – in a near whisper, "I know. I know Ed’s a handful.’’
"That’s one word for it,’’ White grunted.
Roy ignored the remark and kept up his apologetic mask. "If you could just – just step back a little. He’s never done well with confrontation. Allow me to try and get him out and we can discuss what he’s done, alright?’’
White continued to mutter bitterly under his breath, sending the two women loaded looks of thinly veiled panic. Roy didn’t wait and, aware of watchful eyes and listening ears, cleared his throat and knocked gently on the bathroom door.
"Edward, it’s Dad.’’ Roy hadn’t been aware his voice could sound so gentle.
The choked noise Edward produced was closer to a pained laugh.
‘‘Can you come out, please?’’ Roy continued. "We just want to talk.’’
There was a muffled series of grumbles from the other side of the door. Roy pressed his ear to the wood, unable to hear much more than the rush of water and squeak of shoes against tile. His heart continued to spasm painfully in his chest, his concern growing by the second until a sniffled noise reached his ears. It was so faint he almost missed it and it only made his worry triple at the prospect of Ed being upset enough to produce tears.
"Ed. C’mon, kid. I – ’’
"Y-You can come in. I ain’t comin’ out,’’ was the pitifully weak demand.
Roy was happy to accept that. It worked in their favor better that way. "That’s fine with me.’’
The same, however, couldn’t be said for the trio behind him. There was a burst of protests, all varying in style. White made a gargling noise of building anger. Headmistress Campbell barely managed to suck in a breath when her secretary interrupted. Janet was quick to simper and smile, offering that she should go in – "a woman’s touch, Roy. Let me help.’’ – which he quickly shut down.
"I only need a few minutes alone to bring him around,’’ Roy lied. Nothing could pull a stubborn Fullmetal into behaving. "He’s always been this way.’’
White was shaking his head. "W-Well, let it be known you’ve got a compulsive liar on your hands,’’ he said, not sounding overly convincing. "Take everything he tells you with a pinch of salt. He’s known for his lies… isn’t he?’’
No.
"Yes, I’ve seen the disciplinary notes,’’ Campbell agreed. "According to Anderson, he had the nerve to blame another student for yesterday’s fight.’’
Janet at least pretended to look pained when nodding. "It’s true. Sometimes, kids do things for attention. Don’t they, Roy?’’
Roy could tell when people were trying to spill poison into his ear. He swallowed thickly and forced himself to nod, hating every second of it. He was about to reply and assuage the paranoia and panic rolling off the trio of waves when the bathroom door was pulled open just enough for a small, metal hand to launch out and grab a fistful of his shirt. Edward might’ve been small, but the kid was strong, and the unexpected grab and pull had Roy stumbling and nearly smacking his nose against the door.
Edward either didn’t react fast enough or simply didn’t think. The kid hadn’t pulled the door wide enough to accommodate Roy’s broader form, leaving the Colonel to grunt at squeezing through the gap. He caught a glimpse of White stalking forward before he was bodily pulled into the male lavatory, and the door was slammed shut in White’s face. An echoing clap of mismatched hands was followed by a flash of alchemical light and the door was sealed up, leaving Roy alone with with –
"Ed?’’ Roy uttered in disbelief.
The kid didn’t look like the same one who had been scowling or dodging him most of the day. Edward looked, for no better of a word, shaken. His eyes were glassy and rimmed red, his golden hair in disarray, and his face was downright ashen. He was down to his uniform trousers and shirt that looked wet and torn in places, his tie abandoned on the tiled floor. Edward looked more like a wounded animal, and the overall state made something bitterly cold travel through Roy’s bloodstream.
"What…’’ Roy couldn’t get the words out, his throat clogged with numerous questions. What the hell is going on? What’s wrong? Why do you look as if someone has tried to… to…
He couldn’t finish that dark thought. It was hard to ignore it, though. With a quick sweep of his dark eyes, Roy noticed how the buttons on Ed’s shirt was missing, making him think someone had torn it open. Edward was hunched forward and panting as he staggered forward, one hand scrunching the sodden fabric of his shirt, keeping it covering his body, while the other shakily reached out to grip at the porcelain sink for support. It looked as if someone had attacked him in more ways than one.
Ways that would have Roy committing murder and arson without a single speck of guilt.
Edward panted like a wounded animal, breathing through an unseen pain that made Roy nauseous. The boy clawed his way along the row of sinks until he was near the one that had two taps blasting water. Then, in a move that made bile creep up his throat, he watched Ed let his shirt fall open to reveal a torso that was mottled. Bruises stood out starkly against the boy’s skin, varying in size and coloring, yet – much to Roy’s inner turmoil – only one or two were a dark purple. The majority of those bruises were yellow or greenish hues, hinting that they were old…
He felt as if he wasn’t seeing clearly. Like the glasses perched on his nose were smudged and showing him a warped view. Roy angrily pushed the spectacles up onto the top of his head and hated how the image in front of him didn’t change.
Reeling over the bruises was short-lived when Ed produced a choked, hiccupping noise, and pawed at his shirt. It didn’t miss Roy’s attention how the left side of that shirt looked as if it had began to disintegrate; holes burned through the cotton. Edward finally flicked his shirt further aside to expose his left side fully. The sight of weeping, bloodied blisters and chalkish-white smears that spread from the boy’s left hip and up his side, spreading over lower ribs was sickening.
"G-Gimme a minute ,’’ Edward stuttered. "I…It burns .’’
Burns. Roy knew what burns looked like. Thermal, especially. It was why he knew he wasn’t looking at a burn caused by flame. This was chemical and –
Edward as leaning forward, trying to desperately splash water onto the chemical burns on his side. Roy didn’t think twice about knocking small hands aside to assist. He gingerly pulled off Ed’s shirt the rest of the way, discovering more old bruises littering the small back, and clenched his jaw. The kid didn’t protest beyond a pained groan, shivering as Roy’s larger hands, more efficient in scooping or directing the water flow, to flush the chemical away more thoroughly.
"How, Edward?’’ Roy forced out. " How? ’’
"Y-ell at me later b’astard,’’ the boy hissed. "Will tha’ do?’’ he inclined his head towards an innocuous-looking black book tucked by the sink. "w-will it?’’
"Is it going to tell me why you’ve got bruises galore and a chemical burn the size of my damn forearm?’’ Roy kept his voice low, mindful of the trio lingering beyond the door. He barely did so. He wanted to shout and shake the kid for answers. "Is it?’’
Ed gave a sharp inhale. "I tol’ you about Jacob and his idiots.’’
It felt like someone had sucked all of oxygen out of the room at that answer. Roy suddenly looked back on their three weeks in a different light. Little moments – sullen evenings on the couch or angry words exchanged over dinner – came to the forefront of his mind. He had presumed to be dealing with a boy missing his sibling and sulky over being separated, nothing more. Roy’s own actions and past words to Edward’s attempts to tell him coming back to haunt him.
"You said not t’ make waves. My old alchemy teacher punches harder than ‘em. I could handle it – but the other day. The note ‘bout the fight. I only decked ‘im because he said…he said… I didn’t like what he said about my...’’
Mom , Roy inwardly supplied, absently splashing more water over the chemical burns. It was easy to fill in the blanks. Teenage boys weren’t known for imaginative insults. A tiny part of him wished they had altered that part of their cover story, yet sticking as close to the truth was always best when going undercover. It was common knowledge around the school that Edward Musgrove lost his limbs and his mother in a vehicle accident.
Still, eyeing those bruises that had been hidden from him, Roy cursed up a storm in his head. He should’ve noticed. He should’ve been more attentive. Guilt wasn’t an unfamiliar feeling for the Flame Alchemist, but this type of grief was new. It was cold and sticky, settling heavily over his heart and lungs like tar, tainting him.
"T-That’ll be enough though, r-right?’’ Ed croaked, insistent. "The journal: it’s proof. S’ names of people involved and l-locations of where drugs are bein’ dis-distributed. Campbell is stupid enough to keep everything writtin’ down. Uncoded. I found it in a desk in White’s private lab down in the basement…’’
Roy cursed at the impulsivity. "What happened to reporting back to me?’’
"Don’t you believe me? I can show you. His lab is behind a bookcase. I went in t-through an air vent –’’
"Of course, I believe you,’’ Roy harshly interrupted. The boy’s attention was ping-ponging all over the place and Roy’s heart was hammering. He angrily shook his head. "For crying out loud, Ed. What the hell possessed you in doing this? I told you to – ’’
"Thought you’d be happy.’’ Ed sounded genuinely disappointed, his glassy eyes growing brighter. Fuck. Roy would take acid burns and blisters over tears. "That’s all the e-evidence we need to hand over, ri-ight?’’
It was more than enough. Like he said, he believed Ed. If there was a lab in the basement and the book contained what he said it was, it was everything and more than what they needed to organize shutting this place down and rounding up those involved.
"We hand that over ‘n’ it done. Case c-closed an’ you don’t need to be ex-exhausted by me.’’
"I never said…’’ Roy pinched his mouth shut. He had said that. Clearly, those frustrated words had sunk in more than skin deep.
There was a series of thumps on the other side of the bathroom door and Janet’s voice reached them, "Everything okay in there?’’ she asked a bit too sweetly. "Roy?’’
"One moment!’’ Roy failed to keep his irritation from his voice.
The increase of poorly whispered conversation from those beyond the door made it clear they were growing restless. The words were difficult to pick out, yet it hardly mattered. Ed was squirming with an injury that would surely become a new scar.
"Edward’s hurt, I need to rinse his wound,’’ Roy added, trying to soften the blow.
More shuffling. More whispering. White’s gruff voice was clear as he replied, "Which is why I was so eager to get to him. The boy spilled some chemical over himself when he was caught thieving chemistry supplies.’’
"We’ll get to that soon, Professor,’’ Roy dourly replied.
Ed boggled and quietly hissed, "He caught me in his lab and began throwing jars at me.’’
Roy shushed him. "We can’t afford to alert them,’’ he quietly pointed out. "So, let's get out of here. You need the hospital and we need to not make them suspicious. Just – for once – follow my lead.’’
Oddly enough, Edward gave a wobbly nod.
Hoping that the ten or fifteen minutes of dousing the boy’s injury with water would keep the chemical from eating through more layers of flesh, Roy turned off the tap. He kept a close eye on Ed, noting the shock was slipping away as an adrenalin crash kicked in, and shucked off his own suit jacket. With minimal complaints and one pained hiss, Roy carefully guided mismatched arms through the sleeves; the item swamped the boy entirely and covered his battered and blistered torso up.
Ed knuckled as his watery eyes and glanced at the sealed door with obvious trepidation. Roy took a moment to skim through the journal filled with a ridiculous amount of intel. They had hit the jackpot. Only then did he slip the book into the inner breast pocket of the jacket Edward was dwarfed in.
"Your job is to keep that hidden,’’ Roy directed, absently adjusting the suit jacket. It was easy to see the outline of the bulky book, but he had a plan to obscure it. Firstly… "Unseal the door and don’t rise to anything they say, okay?’’
The kid chewed on his lower lip and made a strained noise of agreement. Ed looked ready to pass out but he gritted his teeth and unsealed the door, his small shoulders tense beneath the jacket. Roy felt as is enough time had been wasted and gingerly plucked the kid up, mindful of his injuries and ignoring the squeak.
"H-Hey!’’ Edward’s complaint was more plaintive than furious.
Under different circumstances, Roy might’ve laughed. Ed seemed more startled at the instinctive way his mismatched legs cinched around his waist, irked at some long-buried instinct all children had. Roy huffed, having grown used to this response since he picked up the back-twinging habit of carrying the kid to bed. He hoisted the small but surprisingly heavy form up an inch or so, purposefully keeping the book hidden, safely wedged between them and out of sight. The only way someone could see that was if they pried the boy from his chest.
"Oh, please,’’ Roy muttered. "Who do you think has been putting you to bed when you fall asleep on the couch?’’
An embarrassed warble left Ed’s throat as he crumpled forward, his face hidden against his superior’s shoulder
"You’re fine,’’ Roy tried to comfort. "Remember what I said.’’
He took the silence as acceptance and briefly reached up to knock the ridiculous glasses back down onto his nose. How Hughes or Fuery could wear these full-time was astonishing. Roy trudged forward and shouldered the door open, stepping out into a corridor and immediately getting pounced on by false concern and prying questions. He played the part in siding with the Headmistress, White, and Janet, lacing his voice with a blend of disappointment and shame over his son’s antics.
They gobbled it up with blatant relief, though they didn’t want him to leave.
Roy kept moving forward, one arm locked under scrawny thighs. He had one hand cupping the back of Edward’s head, partly to keep his vision free from flyaway golden strands but – mostly – to keep the kid’s head down. The last thing he needed was Ed popping up to add his two cenz in. Roy needed to get him to a hospital and hand the information over. Exactly in that order.
"We have a school nurse, take him there,’’ Campbell did a poor job of making her order sound like a kind suggestion.
Luckily, her secretary was good at smoothing things over. "Yes, yes,’’ Janet added. "Fiona is closer than the town clinic.’’
"It’s a fifteen-minute drive into town and this is a chemical burn,’’ Roy answered. "I’d rather be safe than sorry when it comes to his welfare.’’
"We still need to discuss his behavior…’’ White grumbled.
"And we will, first thing in the morning,’’ Roy lied. In the next few hours this place would be raided and these three morons (and anyone else they’d stupidly listed) would be arrested. "With all due respect, this can wait until then, right?’’
White looked unimpressed but nodded. Same with Campbell. Janet tried to offer them a ride. Roy politely declined and left the three of them standing by the academy’s entrance, his feet marching down a path to reach his vehicle. It wasn’t a short walk by any means and he could feel their eyes burning into the back of his head. Confident they were out of earshot in spite of being carefully watched, Roy rubbed the back of Ed’s head.
"Good job,’’ he praised.
The head beneath his palm shifted. "They’re w-watchin’.’’
"I know. I think we are in the clear.’’
Edward sniffed and then, barely audible over the crunch of gravel, confessed. "…It really hurts.’’
"I… I know.’’ Roy fumbled. Of course, it really hurt. A layer of skin had been stripped away. "Think you’ve earned yourself a new scar, short-stuff.’’
A congested snort that could’ve been a bitter laugh made Roy’s shoulder damp. For several steps, silence stretched between them during Roy’s hurried pace. He sighed and, with the vehicle a few extra feet away, said something he should’ve corrected immediately this morning:
"I’m sorry.’’
That got Edward’s head turning, unintentionally making Roy’s hand move. Red-rimmed eyes squinted suspiciously up at him. "I ain’t dying, am I?’’
Roy deserved that. Apologies were not really his thing. In fact, this might’ve been the first apology he had given the boy since entering his command. "Don’t be stupid, Edward,’’ he murmured. "I’m apologizing for this morning and… other things.’’
Other things like being a shit attempt of a fake guardian.
Ed made a soft, confused noise.
"I mean… for the record, kid,’’ Roy continued, feeling gruff and awkward. "It’s exhausting to care about someone. Caring makes people worry and worrying makes people sick. That’s what I meant. It doesn’t mean I’m going to stop caring even if you drive me up the wall.’’
"O-Oh.’’
Out of the corner of his eye, the Colonel could see understanding bloom on Edward’s face. It briefly smoothed away the pinched expression of agony, but not for long. The boy was in pain and tired, and all that lingered from that comment was a small splash of color to his pale face. Roy felt a relieved smile tug at his lips - his mission was accomplished in more ways than one.
