The Binary Alchemist (binaryalchemist) wrote in fma_yaoi,
The Binary Alchemist
binaryalchemist
fma_yaoi

Fic: HALF LIVES, Chapter 6: "Christmas" Presents

Fic: Half Lives, Chapter 6: “Christmas” Presents

Author: binaryalchemist 

Rating: R for yaoi sex and references to domestic violence.

Pairing: Roy/Ed, references to past Roy/Hughes. There is a het relationship refered to—but it has gone badly. Very badly.

Genre: Hurt/Comfort, Yaoi romance.

WARNING: This is yaoi. If you aren’t comfortable, don’t read. Wank will be ignored.

Spoilers: Years have passed since the Father’s Fall (chapter 108)  Things in Resembool have not gone well and Ed has the scars to prove it, seeking healing and refuge in his work at Central Command…but Roy Mustang has never been one to calmly stand by and see his friends hurt…

 

CHAPTER SUMMARY: For the first time Alphonse catches his brother lying to him…but Madame Chistmas brings out the truth…and as a reward, some…educational literature…that has Ed VERY intrigued. Ed makes plans to end his marriage but hopes to keep the peace for the sake of his children, sending Colonel Hawkeye to Resembool for a talk with his soon to be ex-wife.

Chapter 5: http://community.livejournal.com/fma_yaoi/1954820.html

Chapter 4: http://community.livejournal.com/fma_yaoi/1954759.html#cutid1

Chapter 3: http://community.livejournal.com/fma_yaoi/1953583.html#cutid1

Chapter 2: http://community.livejournal.com/fma_yaoi/1953116.html#cutid1

Chapter 1: http://community.livejournal.com/fma_yaoi/1952285.html#cutid1

 

As always, for rueme  for her amazing artwork

UPDATE: "HALF LIVES" HAS OFFICIALLY GOTTEN OVER TWO THOUSAND HITS ON FANFICTION.NET!!! Thanks to every single one of you that read this story and commented--I really appreciate it so much!!

 

HALF LIVES Chapter 6: “Christmas” Presents

By The Binary Alchemist 2010

 

 

            The voice on the other end of the phone was maybe a little too calm. “Brother? I heard you had an accident and hurt your head. I want to come see you. Is…is that all right?”

            It was late in the evening. An exhausted Fuhrer Mustang had come in, taken care of Ed’s needs, showered and stretched out on the fold out chair, falling asleep almost immediately…although one hand rested on Ed’s mattress as it had from the day he was admitted.. Ed eyed the gently snoring form with suspicion. “How’d you find out?”

            “I got summoned to court,” Al answered truthfully. “Ling’s got informants in Central—the Fuhrer has them here, too. Anyway, Ling heard you’d had an accident somewhere in your travels and soon as I heard I wanted to see if you were all right. I called the Fuhrer’s office but they said he wasn’t in.”

            “Aw…just a bump on the head,” Ed chuckled lamely. “You know me—no biggie. Mustang got all pissy and sent me to bed in the hospital for a few days…mostly so he could drive me insane, sadistic bastard. “

            There was a pause. “How did it happen?”

            “I was running to catch the last train to Central. Slipped on some ice and smacked my head on one of those concrete benches. Got a few stitches, that’s all. “

            ‘Granny stitched you up?”

            “Nahhh---put some ice on it on the train. Got to Mustang’s office and he had a shit-fit. Said it was an insurance risk so he threw me in the hospital. They stitched it up—lost a bit of hair but I look okay, my bangs cover it mostly. I’m all over his ass to get me out of here. He’s got me working with a chess master for that trip to Aerugo. Probably hang out here until we head down there.”

            Another pause. “How’s Winry?”

            Ed didn’t skip a beat. “She’s fine, the kids are fine—and Granny never changes. So, how’s His Celestial Mooch Artist doing? How much money does he owe you?”

 

            Al hung up after Ed had reassured him no less than a dozen times that there was no need to come to Central—or Resembool.  And the subtle hints that Winry should be called were met with a quick, “oh-don’t-bug-her-she’s-up-to-her-ass-in-refits”.

            “Well?? I was right, wasn’t I??” Ling grinned hugely. “Lying through his teeth—and to his own brother, too. Shame, shame, shame!”

            Al shook his head. “All right,” he sighed heavily. “I really don’t want to do this.” Stomach churning, he dialed International Long Distance again.

            “They aren’t in right now. You wanna leave a message?”

            “Yes….it’s Alphonse.  Alphonse Elric—“

            The voice on the other end laughed warmly! “AL! Good to hear from you—they’re gonna be so sorry they missed your call…”

            “S’okay. Tell them….I’ll call back later. Let her know it’s about Ed.”

            “Boy, I better move anything breakable, then. She’s gonna tear this place apart if he’s in trouble again…”

            “Yeah. Just…tell her I’ll call back. ‘Bye.”

            “Hardest part of the journey is the first step,” Ling intoned philosophically. “And finding a really good pizza joint. Speaking of which…you lost the bet”

            What bet??”

            You said, ‘I bet he’ll tell me the truth.’ I said, ‘I bet he won’t’. Ed lied to you, Alphonse, and while I regret that deeply—you now owe me dinner. I want double anchovies and hot peppers…you can pay when they deliver in about…” he consulted the clock above him, “twenty minutes or so…”

 

            “Looks like you’ll live.” Madame Christmas hauled up a chair and sank down into it with a weary groan. “Think life was easier when I just ran a whore house. Runnin’ a supper club’s a pain in the rear—those kitchen inspectors are the biggest bunch of asswipes…” She pulled out her cigarette holder and flicked it in Ed’s direction. “So…you think about what we talked about couple of days ago?”

            He could barely meet her eyes. “Yes Ma’am”.

            The ornate holder waggled sharply. “Don’t Ma’am me, boy—I’m a whore. An ex whore who now serves the best steaks in town, but a whore nonetheless. Call me Aunt Chris. Never can have too much family.”

            Ed nodded. “Okay,” he answered softly. And yeah….I’ve decided what I’m gonna do.”

            She folded her plump arms. “Let’s hear it, son.”

            He drew in a deep breath. It didn’t relieve the ache in his chest. “I get out in a week—then three weeks supervised light duty. Then Knox lets me go. I’m…I’m going to write to Winry. Tell her that in four weeks I’m coming to Resembool and we are gonna sit down and make decisions about the kids. In the mean time,” he looked her squarely in the eyes, “ Colonel Hawkeye has agreed to go there and get my stuff. She and Havoc and Breda will get it packed up and shipped to Central. I figure if they go there’s gonna be less chance of wrenches getting thrown. Hawkeye can talk sense into damn near anybody—and Winry trusts her. Hawkeye will also make sure my kids are all right. Roy says I can store my stuff in the palace until I decide about a place of my own.  I want to make sure Maes and Nina know they have a home with me—I’m not just some worthless son of a bitch who doesn’t even have a roof over his head. Been there, done that.”

            “You’re not going back. You sure about this, boy?”

            He smiled a little. “I’m sure. But I don’t want to have some big war between us. I want the kids to know that whatever house they’re in—mine or hers—that they are wanted and loved and their parents want to do what’s best for them. Always.”

            A chubby hand, covered with rings and gems, squeezed his own. “Proud of you, Ed-Boy. Damned proud. And you’re a better daddy than you know. Those kids’ll be fine.  Now,” she dug into her massive pocketbook, “I got you a little reward for remembering where your balls are.” The parcel was flat—felt like a largish flat book with a smaller book laid on top of it. “A little…educational literature. You may find it pretty useful. And I’m sure you don’t go in for light novels…but this one’s a little different…”

 

            After Madame Christmas left, Ed tore the parcel open as she had instructed…and it was a good thing the safety rail was up on his bed or he would have fallen straight to the floor.

            For You, For Him, And For Us: A handbook for men—and the men who love them.

             If there had been a blood pressure cuff on his arm it would have blown off his arm. Damn.

            Damn.

            He flipped through a few gorgeously illustrated pictures. He’d slam the cover shut, shove it hastily under his pillow…then nervously pull it out again and flip the pages again.

            Educational to say the very least.

            Positions. Lovingly illustrated. Answers to questions he didn’t dare ask even himself. How does…when do you….if I do this, he will feel that….

            Frank talk about taste. Texture. Scent….skin…

            Taking care of one’s own body. Taking care of your lover’s body.

            Preparation. Lubrication. Sensation. With lots of illustration and detailed explanation.

            Which…understandably, led to….ejaculation. And a nervous request for more towels and a fresh box of tissues for his room.

            Inside the cover, a scribbled dedication: “To Roy from Aunt Chris. Be yourself—and be kind to your lovers.. No regrets---Chris Mustang, 18—“

 

            The novel was entitled  The Stonewall Garden. A military man and a young National Athlete growing to love and trust one another over the years and take the risks to find a life together. It was blunt. It was finny. It was brutally honest. It was real.

            And it was just what he needed to hear. That love is love. And when love comes in one’s own gender…it is no better or worse…but should be accepted as the precious gift it is—a gift that can save ones’ life.

 

            He found his eyes stinging as he read The Stonewall Garden. It spoke of love in terms he understood but had not felt before. Maybe if he’d known what love was supposed to feel like, he’d have realized before the wedding that his love for her was family love—not the love to build a life on, to form a family on. It was no less valid—but it was not what his heart needed.

            He cared. But now he understood the gravity of his mistake, and what needed to be done to make peace so that their children never suffered.

            And yes…maybe in time Winry could heal and find happiness with someone new. While Ed….

            While Ed fell asleep in the late afternoon without morphine or other drugs. A sweet, natural sleep-the kind that heals the most. Under the pillow, his hand rested on For Us.

            He and Roy would have a great deal to say to one another before they turned in for the night…and he wanted to be very well rested….

 

            Resembool! All out for Resembool!”

            “Havoc….HAVOC!”

            Jean snorted. “I’m up, I’m up…jeeze….”

            “Breda? You ready?”

            Heymans nodded. “Got the list here. But y’know,” he pointed out, “Al would have been the better guy to go through his brother’s stuff.”

            Hawkeye shook her head. “He’s not convinced Al won’t cave in. It’s better this way.”

            After the men headed for the baggage depot, she excused herself. In the ladies;  lavatory she opened her brief case.

            A copy of the Amestrian laws regarding domestic violence. The arrest warrant Edward had refused to sign. A pair of handcuffs.

            Doctor Knox had given Ed a good scare and it had brought him to his senses. “Now,” she sighed quietly, “it’s my turn…”

 

…..TO BE CONTINUED

           

           

           

 

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