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“Alright, military pig,” the guard says, “you’re free to go.” Ed’s heart races as he fiddles with and finally unlocks the lock holding the cell shut.
“What?” he asks confusedly. He’s relieved, of course, but doesn’t totally understand what’s happening. 24 hours ago, they’d been ready to execute him, and now he’s being set free?
“Seems someone paid your bail. You lucked out.”
“Who?”
Had Al managed to scrounge up the money somehow? It doesn’t make sense that he’d have been able to gather that much, especially not here. It’s not as though anyone would be sympathetic enough to donate anything at all, even if he explained the situation.
He follows the guard past the other cells filled with grown men who make threats and taunts that he tries to block out. When he opens the door leading back to the office window, he’s shocked to see Colonel Mustang standing there waiting impatiently.
“Colonel?” he asks incredulously. “What are you doing here?”
“Your brother called me.” His icy tone implies that he’s in a lot of trouble, but he can’t think about that now. All that matters is that he’s not going to die in a jail cell. He watches as Mustang takes in his bruised jaw and black eye with practiced indifference. He follows him to the car without a word, where Al is standing outside.
“Brother!” he greets, unable to resist scooping him up into a very painful hug. “Did they hurt you? Are you okay?”
“Easy, easy,” he says. He’s still bruised from the “lesson” that the officer had tried to beat into him. “I’m fine. Stop worrying.”
“I’m sorry. I’m just so glad you’re okay.” That’s playing it fast and loose with the word “okay,” but he doesn’t argue. Even if he wanted to, he doesn’t have the energy.
“Let’s just get out of here.” He expects to relax as soon as they pass the town’s entry sign and is a little confused when his jaw and fists remain clenched.
“You really got yourself into trouble this time,” Mustang says. Ed can’t even think straight to remember the series of events that had led to this. It had happened so fast. Trying to write this report is going to be a nightmare. “Care to explain to me what stunt exactly you pulled that landed you in jail?”
“Nothing,” he snaps. “Or I don’t—I don’t know.”
“You don’t know.” Mustang’s tone is condescending, mocking, but he doesn’t care about that now.
“It’s true,” Al defends. “One minute we were in the library archives, and the next, we were attacked by the police.”
“They said you resisted arrest.”
“Of course I did! He was—” beating the shit out of me, he wants to say, but that’s embarrassing to admit. “We didn’t know what was happening.”
Roy rolls his eyes. “In case you can’t tell, I’m not happy with you.”
“I know.”
“There’s going to be punitive action taken for this. You’re a reflection of me, and you really screwed up this time. Why is it always you who’s getting into trouble? Why was I not surprised to get that phone call?”
“I—can we stop talking about it?” he asks in a small voice. It’s earnest and fearful enough that it gives Mustang pause. Thinking about it makes Ed’s heart race and his chest tight. “I’ll write it down in my report. I just—don’t want to talk about it right now.” He doesn’t expect anything short of more scolding, but that’s not what happens. Instead, he sighs.
“Fine. We’ll discuss it another time.” After a beat in which he studies Ed’s shaking hands and pale face, he speaks in a gentler tone. “Alphonse told me you’ve been held for a few days. Did they feed you?”
“Did they… what?”
“Food, Fullmetal. Did they give you any?”
“Um, a little. A few bread rolls, but I didn’t eat them. They were hard, and I wasn’t hungry, anyway.”
“What about water?”
“None.”
With that, Roy’s expression softens. “Pull in and park up here,” he says to the driver, who complies without complaint.
“Why are we stopping?” he demands in a voice that trembles frustratingly. All he wants to do is get back home. Maybe they’ve left that horrible little town, but they’re not in the clear yet. Not until they arrive back at HQ, in Ed’s eyes.
“You need to eat and drink something.” Well, as much as he hates to admit that Mustang is right, his growling stomach gives him away. “Come on. It looks like there’s a diner over there. Let’s get you something to eat.”
“Aren’t I in trouble?” he asks. Mustang frowns .
“Sure, but that doesn’t mean you deserve to starve.”
Once they’re seated at a booth, he can’t bring himself to look at the menu. He’s too suspicious. Mustang is never nice, especially when Ed’s in trouble for something.
“Order whatever you’d like. It’s on me.”
“Seriously?” he asks. “Why are you doing this?”
“Don’t sound so suspicious. We’re here because you’re clearly hungry.” And that’s it. Someone is taking care of his needs just because he has them, plain and simple and rare as can be. When the waitress approaches their table, Roy orders a black coffee, while Ed asks for a bowl of stew. Something warm and comforting might help ease his mind a little. He sips the water in front of him.
“How badly are you hurt?” Mustang asks. Despite his initial instinct to lie to spare his brother’s worry, Al was there when it happened. He’d watched the officer hit and kick him and if he’s not honest, Al will fret even more.
“Just some bruises. I don’t think anything is broken. I’m just sore.”
“They shouldn’t have treated you with such force. It doesn’t matter what minor infraction you’d committed. Violence against you was inappropriate. So was starving you and withholding water. I’m going to have to send someone to sort that out.”
“Don’t,” Ed warns. “They’re not—if you send someone, they’ll just end up getting hurt. Or worse.”
“Then I’ll send a group.” Ed just stares in disbelief. “They shouldn’t get away with this, Fullmetal. You know that as well as I do.” Ed glares. Mustang exclusively pisses him off, so what’s with this sudden kindness?
“Why are you acting like you care?”
“Because you were punished severely and unjustly. That’s not acceptable.”
The stew arrives and it takes all his willpower not to eat it so fast that it doesn’t stay down. He’s ravenous. Mustang watches as he eats, which makes him feel a little self-conscious.
“We should get going,” he says when Ed finishes the last bite of his second bowl of stew. He could probably eat another, but the appeal of leaving is too strong. Mustang pays the bill while Ed and Al head out to the car, which is still waiting outside. Ed sits in the back seat and presses his cheek to the window and shuts his eyes. He’s barely slept at all in the three days he was held captive, and he’s exhausted.
Mustang opens the door and sits as the driver pulls away from the diner and back onto the road.
“Are you feeling okay?” Al asks, so he puts on his best smile.
“A little tired. Nothing to worry about.” That’s not even a lie. It’s taking all his will power not to fall asleep just sitting here.
“You should get some rest.” While he expects Mustang to argue, he doesn’t.
“Your brother is right,” Mustang agrees. “You look like you could use some sleep.”
“You’re not gonna lecture me?”
“There will be plenty of time for that later. Right now, you need to recover. I’m giving you a few days of leave, effective immediately. You’re no longer on duty.”
Ed doesn’t thank him. He doesn’t praise him for his kindness. All he does is shut his eyes, leaning against Al for support. Mustang won’t say a word about it, not to anyone.