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scriveynerTitle: Fatal Accident
Fandom: Fullmetal Alchemist
AU: Sceptre of Flamel
Characters/Pairing: Roy/Ed
Rating: T
Length: 807
Summary: "It's not as bad as it looks."
Edward held up both hands - okay, one hand - and said, “don’t panic, it’s not as bad as it looks.”
Roy looked up from his papers, seated behind the desk in his study - a mammoth old oak monstrosity that looked like it belonged in the Fuhrer’s office, not stashed away in an officer’s house. He had passed a quick glance over Edward, looked back down at his papers, and then dropped them and jerked his head back up so quickly Edward would swear he saw the eyepatch move. He had never seen Roy’s eye get quite so wide, and as the normally unruffled colonel gaped, Edward held up a finger and said, “no, don’t freak out, I promise it’s not THAT bad-”
It was at that very moment a bout of wooziness hit and Edward leaned into the door’s frame. It was his automail arm that was clenched tight over his gut, blood seeping through the joints and collecting in the grooves of the false limb, and when he braced his flesh hand there he left behind dark red hand-prints.
Roy was out of his chair and around his desk so fast he forgot he had a limp, the cane clattering over onto the floor. “Ed!” he bellowed, all thoughts of rank and file propriety left somewhere outside the front door, along with about a pound and a half of Edward’s flesh.
It did not hurt as much as he had expected; there had been the initial flare of indescribable pain - but even that was not so bad, it almost did not compare the automail surgery. Then shock must have set in, because the pain receded to a dull roar, and to the point it was almost non-existent. It was sheer force of will, and an automail arm, keeping him together.
Roy hesitated to touch him, getting within a hands-span and his single eye open wide in fear. Edward was still a bit woozy, but he grinned for Roy, through a mouth full of crimson. “You should have seen it b'fore,” he muttered. “Entrails tryin’ t'be extrails, s'not pretty-”
“Ed, Ed what have you done-” Roy’s voice pleading, and Edward felt bad for the levity. “I’ll call an ambulance-”
“Don’t waste the phone call,” Edward leaned back against the door’s frame. “Too many questions.” He exhaled, and then slowly took a deep breath. “I’ll be fine, it’ll heal, it’s just gonna be a bit of a mess until it does-” He looked up at Roy and could not help the self-deprecating grin. “Couldn’t go back t'base, an’ Al would lose his mind. You’re the only one who knows.”
It had been a sudden realization, as Edward had staggered the back streets. Roy was the only one who knew about his new curse, because Roy was the only one who had seen it - who had seen the thing that lived inside his head and took his life over without a whispered word of warning - he was the only one who would believe for a second that Edward had not lost his mind.
Finally, Roy put both his hands on Edward’s shoulders. “Did,” and he licked his lips. “Did Sariel do this?”
Edward shook his head, fingers tightening on the door’s frame. “Cause this? No.” No, that had been a chimera in the sewer that Edward had not expected - he had been following a lead and then it had reared out of the water, an unnaturally long mouth full of viciously sharp teeth - and while the thing lay in two pieces, it took more than enough of Edward with it. “But if he wasn’t there, I would be dead.”
Roy did not look like he quite believed Edward, and Edward did not blame him. He would not have believed it himself, if his skin wasn’t already knitting whole, the wound half the size it had been an hour ago. He should be bled out, he never would have made it out of the sewer, never mind manage to schlep himself back to Roy’s.
Roy stared at him, face creased with worry, as Edward winced. “Ed, what can I do?” he asked.
Edward gripped the door’s frame tight as he felt pain lance from his gut to his skull. “I don’t know.”
Fandom: Fullmetal Alchemist
AU: Sceptre of Flamel
Characters/Pairing: Roy/Ed
Rating: T
Length: 807
Summary: "It's not as bad as it looks."
Edward held up both hands - okay, one hand - and said, “don’t panic, it’s not as bad as it looks.”
Roy looked up from his papers, seated behind the desk in his study - a mammoth old oak monstrosity that looked like it belonged in the Fuhrer’s office, not stashed away in an officer’s house. He had passed a quick glance over Edward, looked back down at his papers, and then dropped them and jerked his head back up so quickly Edward would swear he saw the eyepatch move. He had never seen Roy’s eye get quite so wide, and as the normally unruffled colonel gaped, Edward held up a finger and said, “no, don’t freak out, I promise it’s not THAT bad-”
It was at that very moment a bout of wooziness hit and Edward leaned into the door’s frame. It was his automail arm that was clenched tight over his gut, blood seeping through the joints and collecting in the grooves of the false limb, and when he braced his flesh hand there he left behind dark red hand-prints.
Roy was out of his chair and around his desk so fast he forgot he had a limp, the cane clattering over onto the floor. “Ed!” he bellowed, all thoughts of rank and file propriety left somewhere outside the front door, along with about a pound and a half of Edward’s flesh.
It did not hurt as much as he had expected; there had been the initial flare of indescribable pain - but even that was not so bad, it almost did not compare the automail surgery. Then shock must have set in, because the pain receded to a dull roar, and to the point it was almost non-existent. It was sheer force of will, and an automail arm, keeping him together.
Roy hesitated to touch him, getting within a hands-span and his single eye open wide in fear. Edward was still a bit woozy, but he grinned for Roy, through a mouth full of crimson. “You should have seen it b'fore,” he muttered. “Entrails tryin’ t'be extrails, s'not pretty-”
“Ed, Ed what have you done-” Roy’s voice pleading, and Edward felt bad for the levity. “I’ll call an ambulance-”
“Don’t waste the phone call,” Edward leaned back against the door’s frame. “Too many questions.” He exhaled, and then slowly took a deep breath. “I’ll be fine, it’ll heal, it’s just gonna be a bit of a mess until it does-” He looked up at Roy and could not help the self-deprecating grin. “Couldn’t go back t'base, an’ Al would lose his mind. You’re the only one who knows.”
It had been a sudden realization, as Edward had staggered the back streets. Roy was the only one who knew about his new curse, because Roy was the only one who had seen it - who had seen the thing that lived inside his head and took his life over without a whispered word of warning - he was the only one who would believe for a second that Edward had not lost his mind.
Finally, Roy put both his hands on Edward’s shoulders. “Did,” and he licked his lips. “Did Sariel do this?”
Edward shook his head, fingers tightening on the door’s frame. “Cause this? No.” No, that had been a chimera in the sewer that Edward had not expected - he had been following a lead and then it had reared out of the water, an unnaturally long mouth full of viciously sharp teeth - and while the thing lay in two pieces, it took more than enough of Edward with it. “But if he wasn’t there, I would be dead.”
Roy did not look like he quite believed Edward, and Edward did not blame him. He would not have believed it himself, if his skin wasn’t already knitting whole, the wound half the size it had been an hour ago. He should be bled out, he never would have made it out of the sewer, never mind manage to schlep himself back to Roy’s.
Roy stared at him, face creased with worry, as Edward winced. “Ed, what can I do?” he asked.
Edward gripped the door’s frame tight as he felt pain lance from his gut to his skull. “I don’t know.”
