In learning what Ed would and would not speak about, Roy also learned to read between the lines. Ed hated Hohenheim for not being around. He blamed the man for not preventing some unnamed accident. Alphonse, on the other hand, had clearly been close by, had likely had some part in the transmutation that had cost Ed his body – and perhaps Alphonse's own limbs? Roy was certain Alphonse Elric was tied into whatever the cause was, and Ed had admitted that he couldn't understand where his brother was or why he wasn't with Ed, though he'd been quick to change the subject.

Not for the first time, Roy wished Alphonse hadn't been so resistant. Ed would have opened up if his brother had been there, would have shared all the things that he refused to voice for Roy.

Or maybe, Roy thought, the idea going belly-up, maybe Ed would have said even less.

Roy knew he was close to the truth, and the deeper he dug, the more desperate he found himself for the answer. Perhaps it was because of how on edge he was, how badly the knowledge, or rather the possibility, that he was under constant observation was affecting him, but whatever the reason, Roy had fallen into a manic mood, lying awake for hours, unable to rest his mind from unraveling a tale that wasn't his own. He traded nightmares of bloodshed and war for the constant jabbering of a lonely boy, torn from the life he'd loved.

In a strange sense, Roy had become Ed's keeper, the only one suitable to hold the truth of the boy's story. He would not fail where Pinako had, where Ed's own brother had.

That morning, he woke before Ed decided to rouse him and went straight down the stairs, pausing in front of the wall shelf. He didn't know what to expect, how Ed would react, but Roy refused to back down.

"I'd like to come in," he said, running a hand along the wall. "Please."

Ed still had yet to speak to him that morning, For a moment, Roy wondered if he'd asked too soon, but then the wall shuddered, light crackling in an arch as the wall shelf was seemingly sucked into the wood around it, the space opening into a doorway.

"Okay," Ed said. "Whatever."

The hidden room looked quite like it had the first time Roy had come in. Everything was covered in a thick layer of dust, clouds of it stirred into the air with each step he took. The circle was on the ground, just as it had been the last time. Roy stared at it for a few breathless seconds before turning to the bookshelf along the far wall, stepping closer to casually inspect it.

They looked untouched. Roy nearly rolled his eyes at the thought. Of course they were. Who would have been around to read them?

"Sleep well?" Ed asked, and launched into his typical stream-of-consciousness speech.

Roy let the boy chatter on for a beat before he interrupted, saying, "Why did you do it?"

Ed broke off, derailing immediately into, "Do what?"

"Human transmutation," Roy said, "why did you do it? It's the ultimate taboo." A pause, then he added, taking a chance, "Your brother wouldn't tell me, either."

Even the dust in the room seemed to freeze. Ed went quiet. The doorway remained opened, however, and no brutal alchemical fists seemed forthcoming, so Roy held his ground.

"We," Ed began, then abruptly stopped, as though he couldn't quite gather his thoughts. "It's that we didn't know," he said. "We weren't thinking like that, like it would end up this way. The cost," Ed trailed off.

Releasing a breath he hadn't even realized he'd been holding, Roy asked, "What do you mean?"

"Mom," Ed said, "we just wanted her back. It never seemed wrong. But," the ceiling beams shuddered with some strange parody of emotion, "we weren't gods. When people die, they're just – dead, they're dead and that's that."

Roy felt those words with every fiber of his being. "They are," he agreed quietly.

"We," Ed laughed, a short, harsh sound, "didn't have what it took. To make her again."

That unsettling feeling returned to Roy. "You mentioned a cost…"

"Look at me," Ed said. "You saw Al – but look at me."

"I can't see you," Roy said. "Your body was taken?"

"You don't get it yet?" Ed's voice had taken on a flat quality. "My body for Mom, and for Al. He – you know, it would have taken Al, too, the rebound."

Confused, Roy turned from the bookshelf, looking again at the circle. "He was fine," he said. "Just—" The arm and the leg. "He lost his limbs?"

"No," Ed said. "That was me."

That made even less sense. "I saw him," Roy insisted. "His arm and leg—"

"No," Ed said again, "that was me. He lost – Al lost everything."

"I don't understand." Roy's mind grasped for logic.

"It was, y'know, I'm his brother," Ed said. "And it was my idea. So I traded."

"Traded," Roy echoed, the words tasting sour in his mouth. "You mean to say…"

"It was the only way to get Al back," Ed said. "So I'm here, and he's…" Ed stopped. "And he left."

Roy felt a spark of anger at the younger boy. If Ed had traded places with him, had given Alphonse his life back, how could the boy have just left?

But one thing still bothered him, still plagued his mind. "If that's the case," Roy began, "then how am I speaking to you? If your body is gone…"

"Not gone," Ed said. "Traded. Look at me, Mustang."

"I told you," Roy said. "I can't,"

"You are."

Roy sucked in a breath. Recalling his earlier thoughts, those days when he'd been certain it was the house itself that wanted Roy gone, he said, slowly, the words trembling off his tongue, "The house."

"The circle," Ed said in lieu of an answer, "is what keeps me here."

Roy's eyes were drawn to the seal on the ground, and finally, the pieces fell into place.

It was strange. Roy had found the answer he'd been searching for, but the only thing it gave him was the knowledge that nothing could simply end there. Knowing meant taking it a step further.

Knowing meant having the responsibility to free Ed.

Enlightening, that's what it was. Roy had let the thought settle in his mind, had gone about the day the same as he had ever since stepping into the house, into that odd air bubble within reality.

Ed was stuck. Roy was stuck. The world was hell and here they were, brought together. Sitting on the floor in the hidden room, Roy had found a solution, the very thing he'd been searching for when he'd purchased the house.

Freedom. Together, he and Ed could be rid of the mess they'd found themselves in.

If he asked the boy, if he made the offer, would Ed accept? If Roy offered the boy a way out of a life without movement, without even something as small as the ability to hold a book, would Ed be willing to take the chance?

He wondered, then, if the boy even considered himself alive.

As he lay in bed that night, Ed thoughtfully quiet for once, Roy imagined the funeral pyre he could make, falling asleep to thoughts of fire.

Morning came to the alarm of Ed's voice, that now all too familiar pestering, "Wake up! I was thinking, you know, okay, you're a state alchemist, right, I think that's shitty, actually, but you must be sort of good, get your ass DOWN HERE, okay…"

Roy tossed off the covers and left his gloves sitting next to his bed.

He'd speak with Ed about it tomorrow, Roy decided. They had plenty of time.

It occurred to him, the next day, that if Ed was the house, Roy was literally walking around inside of the boy's body.

Suddenly, 'unsettling' wasn't a strong enough word.

"Can you feel anything?" Roy asked, taking a moment before beginning to sort through the rest of his trunk. The books had been put onto the shelves, but he'd found all sorts of things in the process. Postcards (the hardest to look at), photos, old editions of newspapers from across Amestris, his original State Alchemist certification – there was an entire lifetime in that trunk.

"No," Ed said. "I just know stuff, like when you're, I dunno, walking around. I know it, but I don't – I can't say how."

Roy folded up the first of the papers, stacking them to the side. "But you can see." And speak and hear.

"Yeah," Ed said. "But I don't know how. I don't know how the seal works, not entirely." He paused. "It just happened. I don't think Al knew what he was doing when he did it."

"I've never even heard of binding a soul," Roy admitted.

"It's not something people should be learning," Ed said, wistful. "It would've been better. The other way."

The other way meaning death. Roy swallowed, feeling the weight of his decision. He could speak to Ed now. He could bring it up with the boy and give him the choice.

"Al couldn't have known," Ed continued. "If he'd known, he would've come back." There was something desperate in his voice. Ed was trying to convince himself of it.

"I'm sure he didn't," Roy said woodenly, and continued in his task.

Another day wouldn't hurt. There was no need to rush.

Strange, how no amount of waiting could force tomorrow to come. Roy went through the motions of days over and over, of waking and sleeping and talking and eating and simply living in the moment, and every time he thought to himself, today could be the day, something would change.

His focus shifted too easily, Roy decided. That was all.

It took him three days before he ever went back into the hidden room, a place where Ed seemed ready to welcome him now at any time. When he finally sat down on the floor, back cracking, and reached out to the blood seal, Roy realized he'd left his gloves sitting by his bed.

How silly of him. He'd have to try again tomorrow.

But his reticence, sudden and unwelcome as it was, was cruel. Roy was torn. Every time he spoke to Ed, every time he heard the boy go on and on and ask question after pointless, endless question, Roy felt the guilt grow, gnawing at his insides, nearing unbearable.

Ed, he remembered, was not simply a house. Ed was a boy, one trapped in a situation beyond his control.

Sitting opposite the blood seal, unable and unwilling to move, Roy wondered how long his selfishness would keep them both static.

Their little air bubble against reality wouldn't hold forever. Roy hadn't expected it to. But when several sharp raps sounded against the front door, followed by the impatient voice of an old woman, Roy was forced to admit the fact that he wasn't yet ready to face the world.

"Mustang," Pinako called through the door, slamming her fist against the wood twice more. "I know you're in there. Answer the door!"

Roy, having been three steps away from walking into the kitchen, into plain view, stepped back, taking refuge in the hallway. Ed was silent.

"Mustang," Pinako tried again, her voice losing its surety. "I need to speak with you."

Roy stared at a small dark spot on the wall, lips pursed.

There were no more knocks. Roy heard Pinako sigh, heard her stamp a foot on the front porch. Then, quiet.

Roy didn't move for several minutes, and to his surprise, Ed didn't speak either. When he finally dared to go to the door, to look out the peephole, there was no one in sight, the old woman gone. Sagging against the door, Roy let out a relieved breath.

Ed broke the quiet first. "Granny," he said, nearly whispered it. His voice was wrought with pain, more muted than Roy had ever heard him. "She – it's been so long," Ed continued longingly.

Roy said nothing.

"I think she's forgotten me," Ed said, and had Ed the ability to cry, Roy was sure he would have been doing just that. "Al and Winry and – they're all gone. For real." Ed went quiet again for a beat, then finished, "They're all gone, and I'm here." The forever need not be said.

Responsibility, Roy's mind chided him. He ought to say something. Ed had gone so quiet, and it was just unlike the boy. Roy wasn't sure he could handle it, not when Ed's constant noise had become so much a part of his day.

"I'm sure," he said, "that they haven't." He immediately regretted the words. "I could – go and get her." He didn't want to, not really. But if it was what Ed wanted… "If you want, I could—"

"What difference would it make?" Ed asked. "If they know I'm here – if they'd known since the beginning – you know what that would do?"

"What?" Roy asked. He wasn't sure this was a conversation he wanted to have.

"It would keep them here," Ed said, anger briefly flaring up in his voice, though at what, Roy wasn't entirely certain. "They'd – they'd feel like they had to, I know they would. And they'd all just – I can't be the thing that keeps them tied down. Not Al or Granny or Winry. I couldn't do that to them."

"But," Roy hesitated before finishing, "why wouldn't you want them here with you?"

"Because I don't want anyone wasting their life trying to fix somethin' that can't be fixed," Ed said, the words quiet and intense.

"What makes you think it wouldn't be worth it to them?" Roy asked.

"What makes you think it would be worth it to me?" Ed replied.

To that, Roy could offer no response.

Ed's mood had remained somber for the rest of the day following Pinako's visit, and Roy had been able to think of nothing else. When Roy read aloud, something he'd taken to doing for Ed to pass the time, the boy didn't show the same enthusiasm, didn't argue points or demand explanations of the newer theories. Ed's sorrow chased him into sleep, worry forcing its way into his dreams, of him an old man, still living in Resembool, clinging to the promise of tomorrow, always reaching for what would never come. When Roy's eyes snapped open, the sun already up and not a peep from Ed, Roy knew with absolute certainty that selfishness was no longer an option.

Today, he thought as he pulled on his gloves, would be the day.

As he walked down the steps, Roy tried to summon that earlier determination. He imagined himself in the flames, his perfect absolution, the last act of alchemy that would set them both free.

He nearly tripped off the stairs, he was shaking so badly.

Roy could feel sweat gathering under his arms, on his hairline. He was terrified. This feeling left that earlier fear, when Ed was still a mystery, paling in comparison. As he raised a trembling, gloved hand and knocked on the wall leading to the hidden room, it suddenly occurred to Roy, the thought popping into his mind with crystal clarity, I don't want to die.

It had been so long since he'd honestly thought that.

Ed opened the doorway for him without words, still sullen and quiet from his epiphany the day before. Roy couldn't stop himself from shaking, even as he dropped onto the ground, crossing his legs. Eyes glued to the circle, Roy's mouth went dry, cottony.

He didn't want to die.

Ed still didn't speak. Roy licked his lips, tried to moisten his tongue, and said, cautiously, "Good morning."

"Morning," Ed replied before going quiet again.

Questions bubbled up in Roy's mind, demanding answers. He closed his eyes against the noise in his head, trying to focus, wondering, not for the first time, how long he would let this selfishness go on.

He would not die here today – but perhaps, it was time he gave Ed the respite the boy so clearly yearned for.

"Ed," Roy said, trying not to show his reluctance, how uneasy he was, "what do you want?"

The question could have meant anything. Roy could have been referring to conversation, to some sort of way of occupying their time, but the true answer was in Ed's perception.

"Want?" Ed echoed the word as though the meaning was foreign to him. "I don't know," he said. "I haven't known what it feels like to want in so long. I guess that what I want is to," he broke off, and the room around Roy seemed to waver. Then, much softer, "Most days, I just want out of here."

The words were clear enough. Roy pulled off a glove and touched the edge of the circle, amazed at the way his hand shook. "Do you want me to help you?"

He almost couldn't ask. Despite the fact that he'd been planning on it for so long, it still hurt in a way that he didn't understand. The atmosphere had shifted, was changing like the tide, and what could have been just another day became a continuation of the mess they'd found themselves in. If Ed said no, the cycle would just move on, and Roy wasn't sure he'd get the guts to make the offer again. But if Ed said yes –

A soft humming sound, decisive. "Okay," Ed said, just like that, a simple answer to an impossibly complicated question.

Roy lifted his hand, licking his thumb like a mother would to clean her child's cheek, and pressed it to the edge of the circle. A single slide and the blood crumbled, smearing as easily as if it had been painted on only minutes before.

It was easy to do. Roy told himself that the way his vision blurred was just a factor of how intense his focus was. That his face was suddenly damp had nothing to do with it.

Roy expected something grand, like the equivalent of an explosion, but the day he erased what little was left of Edward Elric from the world, there was no dramatic reaction. It didn't even rain.

Ed didn't seem frightened at all, though it was difficult to tell. His voice gave nothing away in the brief moment before he faded, simply a, "Bye, old man," like he was stepping out of the house and would return moments later.

Roy worked until there was nothing but a faint imprint of the seal. And then he stood, dusting off his knees, and walked numbly into the kitchen. He sat at the table, as calmly as he'd done every day before that, and folded his arms, resting his head on them.

He couldn't understand why it hurt. It was right, exactly what he should have done all along, but now that he'd done it, now that he was absolutely certain he was alone, Roy's heart felt like someone had gotten it in their fist.

Humans, Roy thought, are completely selfish. That stupid boy was gone, passed to whatever version of paradise existed on the other side of life, and all Roy could think was that he already missed him.

In the unnatural quiet of an empty house, Roy sat and wondered how the world could possibly still be moving.

His bag was packed. Roy didn't bother bringing much, just a few articles of clothing, the necessities. It would be a long trip. He hoped it was worth it.

As he closed his suitcase, as prepared as he would ever be, the phone rang. The noise was jarring, the house having been silent for several days on end, and Roy started violently. It took him a moment to realize just what the sound was, and even then, he was hesitant about answering.

But he did. "Hello?"

"Mustang!" Pinako sounded both exasperated and relieved. "I'm surprised you picked up."

"I've been busy," Roy said. "What do you need?"

A pause. Then, "Al is here," she said. "Got here last night. He said he wants to speak to you."

Unbidden, Roy found his eyes drifting to the direction of the once hidden room. "Is that so."

"Come over."

"I'm on my way out the door," Roy said. "I'm going out of town."

"Are you," Pinako said. "Al can drive you to the station, then."

Roy closed his eyes. "Send him. I'm leaving now."

"He'll be there in five," Pinako said, and the line clicked.

Reluctantly, Roy hung up the phone and grabbed his suitcase. When he left the house, he locked the door and walked slowly down the hill. He didn't have to wait by the roadside for very long. Within minutes, he could hear the sound of a car chugging along, the body of it appearing into view.

Roy, suitcase in hand, stood at the side of the road and watched Alphonse drive, stepping back as the car slowed for him.

"Mr. Mustang," Alphonse said stiffly.

"Roy, please," he said. "It's – good to see you again."

Alphonse's lips twitched. "You wanted me here," he said as Roy climbed into the car. "And now you're leaving?"

"I don't need you here anymore," Roy said simply.

Alphonse started the car down the road, glancing sideways at his passenger. "You don't?"

"No."

"What about the house?" Alphonse asked. "You – I came all this way." There was something despairing in his tone. Roy found himself wishing he could sympathize with thisbrother, but he couldn't quite connect with him. All he knew about Alphonse Elric were stories, and stories rarely made much sense in reference to the subject.

"The house," Roy said after a beat, "is just a house."

"Then why did you bother me?" Alphonse asked. "Why drag me out here?"

"You refused, if you'll remember," Roy returned. "Why you're here now has very little to do with me."

He wanted to tell Alphonse exactly what had happened. He wanted to let the boy in on just what he'd left behind, but Roy, as they pulled up to the station, knew what that could do to a person.

The guilt alone could kill Alphonse.

"I appreciate the ride," he said instead, and stepped out of the car. Alphonse leaned over, handing him his suitcase.

"That's it?" Alphonse asked. "There's nothing more?"

Roy wasn't sure what answer Alphonse really wanted. But something told him that Alphonse was better off ignorant. "There never was," Roy said, and closed the door.

As he walked away, he could feel Alphonse's eyes following him. The decision was made, though. Roy could grieve for Ed alone, but Alphonse Elric had grieved for his brother for years. To know the truth…

"Express to Central, boarding now!" A loud whistle followed the announcement. Roy pulled his ticket from his pocket, holding his suitcase close to him as he pushed through the crowd, and handed it to the conductor.

It would do him no good to dwell on things that would never come to pass. He did, after all, have a very long ride ahead of him.

.

.

.

.

End.