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“Right,” Havoc said, and lowered the gun with a smirk. “Bullseye.” He’d placed three neat holes in the target, right in the center. Immaculate shots, Roy thought, standing with his arms crossed just off to the side, especially considering that the pouring rain made visibility difficult. Hawkeye was the sharpshooter on the team, but there was no doubt that Roy could count on Havoc’s aim as well. Fullmetal shivered and buried his hands deep into the pockets of his red coat, his shoulders pulled up against the cold. Roy was glad that they were at least protected from the rain by a roof that spanned the shooting booths. Havoc bent his knees slightly, bringing the gun down so that Fullmetal could see him put the safety back on. “And then you do this. And why do you do that?”
Fullmetal rolled his eyes before he said, “For safety.”
Havoc’s brows raised. “Why?”
“So it can’t fire accidentally,” Fullmetal snapped. “I’m not a baby. I got it the first time.”
“You walked out of practice the first time, so I’m making sure,” Havoc said with a smirk, “because gun safety is your safety. And the safety of those around you.”
Fullmetal huffed a breath. “Great. Can I go now?”
He turned on his heel to do just that without waiting for an answer, but Roy caught the hood of his coat and ignored the indignant squawk Fullmetal let out as he was pulled back to stand beside Havoc. Roy let go of him and raised an eyebrow when Fullmetal whirled around to shoot him a glare. It would have been an impressive one, too, if Fullmetal were taller and… well, older than twelve.
He looked like an ill-tempered kitten.
Roy folded his hands behind his back. “Listen to Havoc.”
“This is stupid. Why do I have to learn this?”
“We’ve been through this,” Roy replied, his patience thinning. “It’s regulation. You will learn to shoot a gun.”
Havoc cleared his throat. “Colonel, I think the Chief and I can handle this on our own.”
“He walked out on you last time,” Roy replied. “I have to hand in the confirmation that he was trained this afternoon. I’m not taking any chances.”
Fullmetal sneered. “You’re just trying to get out of doing next year’s budget. Breda said so.”
Havoc chuckled until Roy sent him a warning glare. He turned back to Fullmetal, trying not to let his annoyance bleed into his voice. “Well, Breda shouldn’t gossip. Now get to it.”
Havoc held out the gun.
Fullmetal took a step back, his hands curling at his side. “I don’t need it, though.”
Roy’s patience cracked. “Pardon?”
“It kills people.”
Roy stepped forward, and he gave Fullmetal credit for not backing up instinctively. “It’s standard for State Alchemists to know how to use a gun.”
“I don’t want a gun.”
“You’re not getting one issued,” Roy said. “You just need to know how to use one.”
“I won’t have to. I have alchemy.”
Roy felt frustration climb up his throat. “What’s rule number one for State Alchemists?”
Clenching his fists, Fullmetal narrowed his eyes. “You can’t make me quote it every time you disagree with me.”
“Yes, I can,” Roy snapped, “because I’m in charge. The military is in charge. And State Alchemists obey.”
Fullmetal’s head tilted. “I heard you the first hundred times. How is not learning how to use a gun being not loyal to the military? I’ll us my alchemy instead to fight.”
Roy’s hands balled into fists. “I don’t want to discuss regulations with you, Fullmetal.”
“Great,” he replied, “we’re on the same page then.”
He tried to circle around Roy to leave but Roy grabbed the gun from Havoc’s hand blocked Fullmetal’s way. “Take the gun.”
Fullmetal glared at him. “No.”
Havoc shifted and when Roy glanced at him, he saw him suppress a grin. The last thing he needed was his men finding this kind of situation amusing. “Fullmetal-”
“I don’t want to kill people!”
The words caused Roy to pause, taken aback. “I’d never …” He trailed off. Roy stared at Fullmetal – at this 12-year-old kid – and for the first time, he realized that Fullmetal knew exactly what his affiliation to the military could mean for him. Despite his casual disregard of regulations, despite his pouting over paperwork, despite his distracted stares out the window while the Führer gave one of his speeches, Fullmetal knew exactly that he was trapped and that he could be required to kill one day.
Not learning how to do it was self-defense.
Roy felt guilt flood him. Because he’d been the one to bring Fullmetal here. To East City, to the military and to this shooting range.
Knowing full well what being a human weapon meant.
He’d understood, of course, that it could happen one day, that Fullmetal would be called out onto the battlefield. He’d just ignored it, considered it unlikely enough to take the chance. To reap the praise that bringing in an alchemical prodigy got him, to help Fullmetal and his brother search for a way to restore their bodies, to gain another ally in his fight to the top.
Roy swallowed and looked at Havoc, tilting his head to the side.
Havoc nodded and stepped away.
Roy pulled the chair closer that rested against the wall and settled into it. Sitting down, he was able to make direct eye contact with Fullmetal, who stood there with his arms crossed and a rebellious glower on his face. He took a deep breath. “Forget the regulations.”
Fullmetal’s eyes widened in surprise.
“But,” Roy continued before he could interrupt him, “I still need you to learn this. Not to kill. I will never ask you to kill. But to defend yourself.”
“I’ve got alchemy.”
“What if you don’t?” Roy asked, holding out the gun. “What if they take your arm or it malfunctions?”
The mulish expression on Fullmetal’s face told Roy he wasn’t getting anywhere. “How am I supposed to use it if my arm is gone or malfunctions? I need two hands to aim.”
Roy frowned at him.
Fullmetal shrugged. “Just continuing your hypothesis.”
Roy was sure that he heard Havoc bite down on a laugh. “You can shoot one-handed,” he said. “But that’s an advanced class. Today, I just want you to learn how to use it in general.”
Fullmetal still didn’t reach for the gun.
“This isn’t just about you, Fullmetal, this is about the team as well. You won’t get a gun issued, but if you should ever be in a situation in which someone on the team relies on you to be able to use theirs, I want you to know how to do so. To protect yourself and to protect them. I promise you that it’s the last resort. We will always do our best to keep you safe, but if we can’t …”
There was a conflicted expression on Fullmetal’s face and Roy gave him a moment to consider. He knew it was probably a little unfair to use the team against him. Fullmetal liked them and he was the kind of person who wouldn’t leave a friend in need. Roy didn’t know him well but he could tell that much.
Finally, Fullmetal snatched he gun out of his hand, pointing it at the target with one hand. “Like this?”
Roy rolled his eyes and got up to step behind him, bringing Fullmetal’s other hand up to curl around the handle as well, nudging and positioning until Fullmetal’s stance was correct. Fullmetal’s hands were just big enough to get a good grip and reach the trigger.
It made Roy’s stomach flip.
“There’s going to be a recoil,” he said calmly, “so brace yourself. Breathe out before you pull the trigger. Don’t worry if you don’t hit the target at your first-”
The sound of the gun going off interrupted him. The bullet hit the target on the outer ring.
“Good,” Roy said. “Very good, actually. Now try to hit the center.”
“I was aiming for the outer ring,” Fullmetal answered, clicking the safety on and shoving the gun at Roy. “I’m not taking fatal shots.”
He met Roy’s eyes, a challenge. Roy nodded at him.
Fullmetal turned and walked away.
END
January 2023