Sometimes, he doesn’t manage to save Alphonse. Sometimes, Roy dies in his arms. Sometimes, he’s there when Hughes dies and he can only watch. Sometimes, he finds himself forced to kill his mother because they turned her into a demon.
Sometimes the nightmares are reality reborne; sometimes, they are just figments of could have beens, and thank god it didn’ts. Sometimes, Edward’s subconscious feels as guilty as his conscience does, and sometimes, he can’t escape.
His nights are tormented and often Edward thinks, it’s nothing less than what he deserves. Peaceful rest would unbalance his karma. In the end, he managed to restore Alphonse. That is more than a failure like him deserves.
His only relief comes with the hands that gently coax him into waking. In opening his eyes to the sight of Roy’s concerned face, the feel of Roy’s warm hands on his cheeks, the understanding that casts a shadow in Roy’s eyes.
Roy has nightmares, too. Those that are just as terrible, painful, and punishing as Edward’s own. He suspects it’s why they do so well together.
Roy doesn’t even have to ask if Edward’s suffered another nightmare; he knows. He just leans forward, presses their foreheads together, and strokes a thumb over Edward’s cheek.
“Someday,” he says, and pauses, as though carefully choosing his words. Always careful, always the diplomat, ever the politician. “Someday, we’ll be able to sleep through the night.”
Edward manages a dry chuckle, reaching up and sliding an arm around Roy’s body, careful not to snag his automail on anything sensitive. “That day is not today.”
“Perhaps not. But it will come,” Roy insists, and leans down, letting their lips meet in a gentle kiss.
Hard to believe that the road long-traveled could lead Edward here. Again, this is something he doesn’t deserve, but something he also refuses to surrender.
“Until then,” Edward says against Roy’s lips. “I have an idea about what can make tonight better.” His fingers trace Roy’s spine.
His lover shivers. “You read my mind.”